On the 20th of May, about sunset, the island of Tobago, off the Orinoco, came into view, bearing west by north, distant twenty-two miles.

The _Spray_ was drawing rapidly toward her home destination.

Later at night, while running free along the coast of Tobago, the wind still blowing fresh, I was startled by the sudden flash of breakers on the port bow and not far off.

I luffed instantly offshore, and then tacked, heading in for the island.
Finding myself, shortly after, close in with the land, I tacked again offshore, but without much altering the bearings of the danger.

Sail whichever way I would, it seemed clear that if the sloop weathered the rocks at all it would be a close shave, and I watched with anxiety, while beating against the current, always losing ground.