It was only a long swim that could be fatal.
The sea was running high and the storm increasing.

It was growing late, too--three or four in the afternoon.

Whether to venture toward the mainland or not, was a question of some moment.

But we were so distressed by thirst that we decide to try it, and so Higbie fell to work and I took the steering-oar.

When we had pulled a mile, laboriously, we were evidently in serious peril, for the storm had greatly augmented; the billows ran very high and were capped with foaming crests, the heavens were hung with black, and the wind blew with great fury.
We would have gone back, now, but we did not dare to turn the boat around, because as soon as she got in the trough of the sea she would upset, of course.