At low tide the lagoon was almost completely isolated.
Indeed, he imagined that only a fierce gale blowing from the north-west would enable the waves to leap the reef, save where a strip of broken water, surging far into the small natural harbor, betrayed the position of the tiny entrance.
Yet at this very point a fine cocoanut palm reared its stately column high in air, and its long tremulous fronds were now swinging wildly before the gale.

From where he stood it appeared to be growing in the midst of the sea, for huge breakers completely hid the coral embankment.

This sentinel of the land had a weirdly impressive effect.
It was the only fixed object in the waste of foam-capped waves.

Not a vestige of the _Sirdar_ remained seaward, but the sand was littered with wreckage, and--mournful spectacle!--a considerable number of inanimate human forms lay huddled up amidst the relics of the steamer.
This discovery stirred him to action.

He turned to survey the land on which he was stranded with his helpless companion.