Assisted by the captain himself, the tarpaulin was bent on, and with a "sheet" attached to one corner rigged sail-fashion.

In an instant it caught the stiff breeze, and bellied out; when the pinnace feeling the impulse, began to move rapidly through the water, leaving in her wake a stream of sparkling phosphorescence that looked like liquid fire.
They had no compass, and therefore could not tell the exact direction in which they were being carried.

But a yellowish streak on the horizon, showing where the sun had set, was still lingering when the wind began to freshen, and as it was one of those steady, regular winds, that endure for hours without change, they could by this means guess at the direction--which was toward that part of the horizon where the yellowish spot had but lately faded out; in short, toward the west.
Westward from the place where the cyclone had struck the ship, lay the great island of Borneo.

They knew it to be the nearest land, and for this had they been directing the boat's course ever since their disaster.

The tarpaulin now promised to bring them nearer to it in one night, than their oars had done with days of hopeless exertion.
It was a long twelve-hour night; for under the "Line"-- and they were less than three degrees from it--the days and nights are equal.