CHAPTER FIVE.
RUNNING THE BREAKERS.
The Almighty Hand that had thus far helped the castaways on their course, with a favouring wind bringing them in sight of Borneo's isle, was not going to crush the sweet hopes thus raised by wrecking their boat upon its shores.
And yet for a time it seemed as if this were to be their fate.

As they drew near enough to the land to distinguish its configuration, they saw a white line like a snow-wreath running between it and them, for miles to right and left, far as the eye could reach.

They knew it to be a barrier of coral breakers, such as usually encircle the islands of the Indian seas--strong ramparts raised by tiny insect creatures, to guard these fair gardens of God against the assaults of an ocean that, although customarily calm, is at times aroused by the _typhoon_, until it rages around them with dark scowling waves, like battalions of demons.
On drawing near these reefs, Captain Redwood, with the eye of an experienced seaman, saw that while the wind kept up there was no chance for the pinnace to pass them; and to run head on to them would be simply to dash upon destruction.

Sail was at once taken in, by letting go the sheet, and dropping the tarpaulin back into the bottom of the boat.

The oar that had been set up as a mast was left standing, for there were five others lying idle in the pinnace; and with four of these, Saloo and Murtagh each taking a pair, the boat was manned, the captain himself keeping charge of the tiller.