ON THE WAY TO PENGUIN ISLAND 



finally we gave up the attempt, with a burning desire 

 to see Capetown again. 



The next night we tried again, and got as far as 

 Robin Island, which is about twelve miles from 

 Capetown, and is used as a leper colony. After resting 

 for a while the skipper went on deck to determine 

 whether we should go forward or beat a retreat once 

 more. He decided on the former course, but when we 

 got to sea again the old tub promptly leapt up by the 

 stern as if she meant to turn a somersault, and threw 

 him over the engine into a corner, cutting his head open. 



I quickly got out of his coffin-like bunk, patched 

 him up and put him right, but by the time this was 

 done we had decided to go back to Capetown. The 

 storm had mastered the little boat, skipper and 

 helmsman and passenger notwithstanding. 



The skipper was not going to be beaten, however ; 

 he was a seaman, so for the third time we started — 

 on this occasion at one-thirty in the morning. This 

 was the worst night of all. I have sailed the seven seas, 

 but never saw notliing like it. Our little boat was 

 turned, twisted and tossed about Hke a cork. Wind, 

 thunder and lightning raged, and rain fell in torrents. 

 We had to close the hatchway, and then the fumes 

 of the paraffin engine very nearly choked us. The 

 elements were relentless, and back to the harbour we 

 were driven again, really very thankful to get there, 

 although we never knew that we were there until, 



i6 241 



