He had run aground on a large sharp flint embedded in a chalk floor, which had split the poplar wood of the canoe like an axe.
The voyage was over, for the least strain would cause the canoe to part in two, and if she were washed off the ground she would be water-logged.
In half a minute the mist passed, leaving him in the bright day, shipwrecked.
Felix now saw that the waters were white with suspended chalk, and sounding with the paddle, found that the depth was but a few inches.

He had driven at full speed on a reef.

There was no danger, for the distance to the shore was hardly two hundred yards, and judging by the appearance of the water, it was shallow all the way.

But his canoe, the product of so much labour, and in which he had voyaged so far, his canoe was destroyed.

He could not repair her; he doubted whether it could have been done successfully even at home with Oliver to help him.