IT was broad day when I awoke and
found myself tossing at the
south-west end of Treasure Island.
The sun was up but was still hid
from me behind the great bulk of the
Spy-glass, which on this side
descended almost to the sea in
formidable cliffs. Haulbowline Head and Mizzen-mast
Hill were at my elbow, the hill bare
and dark, the head bound with cliffs
forty or fifty feet high and fringed
with great masses of fallen rock. I
was scarce a quarter of a mile to
seaward, and it was my first thought
to paddle in and land. That notion was soon given over.
Among the fallen rocks the breakers
spouted and bellowed; loud
reverberations, heavy sprays flying
and falling, succeeded one another
from second to second; and I saw
myself, if I ventured nearer, dashed
to death upon the rough shore or
spending my strength in vain to
scale the beetling crags. Nor was that all, for crawling
together on flat tables of rock or
letting themselves drop into the sea
with loud reports I beheld huge
slimy monsters—soft snails, as it
were, of incredible bigness—two or
three score of them together, making
the rocks to echo with their
barkings. I have understood since that they
were sea lions, and entirely
harmless. But the look of them,
added to the difficulty of the shore
and the high running of the surf,
was more than enough to disgust me
of that landing-place. I felt
willing rather to starve at sea than
to confront such perils. In the meantime I had a better
chance, as I supposed, before me.
North of Haulbowline Head, the land
runs in a long way, leaving at low
tide a long stretch of yellow sand.
To the north of that, again, there
comes another cape—Cape of the
Woods, as it was marked upon the
chart—buried in tall green pines,
which descended to the margin of the
sea. I remembered what Silver had said
about the current that sets
northward along the whole west coast
of Treasure Island, and seeing from
my position that I was already under
its influence, I preferred to leave
Haulbowline Head behind me and
reserve my strength for an attempt
to land upon the kindlier-looking
Cape of the Woods. There was a great, smooth swell upon
the sea. The wind blowing steady and
gentle from the south, there was no
contrariety between that and the
current, and the billows rose and
fell unbroken. Had it been otherwise, I must long
ago have perished; but as it was, it
is surprising how easily and
securely my little and light boat
could ride. Often, as I still lay at
the bottom and kept no more than an
eye above the gunwale, I would see a
big blue summit heaving close above
me; yet the coracle would but bounce
a little, dance as if on springs,
and subside on the other side into
the trough as lightly as a bird. I began after a little to grow very
bold and sat up to try my skill at
paddling. But even a small change in
the disposition of the weight will
produce violent changes in the
behaviour of a coracle. And I had
hardly moved before the boat, giving
up at once her gentle dancing
movement, ran straight down a slope
of water so steep that it made me
giddy, and struck her nose, with a
spout of spray, deep into the side
of the next wave. I was drenched and terrified, and
fell instantly back into my old
position, whereupon the coracle
seemed to find her head again and
led me as softly as before among the
billows. It was plain she was not to
be interfered with, and at that
rate, since I could in no way
influence her course, what hope had
I left of reaching land? I began to be horribly frightened,
but I kept my head, for all that.
First, moving with all care, I
gradually baled out the coracle with
my sea-cap; then, getting my eye
once more above the gunwale, I set
myself to study how it was she
managed to slip so quietly through
the rollers. I found each wave, instead of the
big, smooth glossy mountain it looks
from shore or from a vessel's deck,
was for all the world like any range
of hills on dry land, full of peaks
and smooth places and valleys. The
coracle, left to herself, turning
from side to side, threaded, so to
speak, her way through these lower
parts and avoided the steep slopes
and higher, toppling summits of the
wave. "Well, now," thought I to myself,
"it is plain I must lie where I am
and not disturb the balance; but it
is plain also that I can put the
paddle over the side and from time
to time, in smooth places, give her
a shove or two towards land." No
sooner thought upon than done. There
I lay on my elbows in the most
trying attitude, and every now and
again gave a weak stroke or two to
turn her head to shore. It was very tiring and slow work,
yet I did visibly gain ground; and
as we drew near the Cape of the
Woods, though I saw I must
infallibly miss that point, I had
still made some hundred yards of
easting. I was, indeed, close in. I
could see the cool green tree-tops
swaying together in the breeze, and
I felt sure I should make the next
promontory without fail. It was high time, for I now began to
be tortured with thirst. The glow of
the sun from above, its thousandfold
reflection from the waves, the
sea-water that fell and dried upon
me, caking my very lips with salt,
combined to make my throat burn and
my brain ache. The sight of the
trees so near at hand had almost
made me sick with longing, but the
current had soon carried me past the
point, and as the next reach of sea
opened out, I beheld a sight that
changed the nature of my thoughts.
Right in front of me, not half a
mile away, I beheld the HISPANIOLA
under sail. I made sure, of course,
that I should be taken; but I was so
distressed for want of water that I
scarce knew whether to be glad or
sorry at the thought, and long
before I had come to a conclusion,
surprise had taken entire possession
of my mind and I could do nothing
but stare and wonder. The HISPANIOLA was under her
main-sail and two jibs, and the
beautiful white canvas shone in the
sun like snow or silver. When I
first sighted her, all her sails
were drawing; she was lying a course
about north-west, and I presumed the
men on board were going round the
island on their way back to the
anchorage. Presently she began to
fetch more and more to the westward,
so that I thought they had sighted
me and were going about in chase. At
last, however, she fell right into
the wind's eye, was taken dead
aback, and stood there awhile
helpless, with her sails shivering.
"Clumsy fellows," said I; "they must
still be drunk as owls." And I
thought how Captain Smollett would
have set them skipping. Meanwhile the schooner gradually
fell off and filled again upon
another tack, sailed swiftly for a
minute or so, and brought up once
more dead in the wind's eye. Again
and again was this repeated. To and
fro, up and down, north, south,
east, and west, the HISPANIOLA
sailed by swoops and dashes, and at
each repetition ended as she had
begun, with idly flapping canvas. It
became plain to me that nobody was
steering. And if so, where were the
men? Either they were dead drunk or
had deserted her, I thought, and
perhaps if I could get on board I
might return the vessel to her
captain. The current was bearing coracle and
schooner southward at an equal rate.
As for the latter's sailing, it was
so wild and intermittent, and she
hung each time so long in irons,
that she certainly gained nothing,
if she did not even lose. If only I
dared to sit up and paddle, I made
sure that I could overhaul her. The
scheme had an air of adventure that
inspired me, and the thought of the
water breaker beside the fore
companion doubled my growing
courage. Up I got, was welcomed almost
instantly by another cloud of spray,
but this time stuck to my purpose
and set myself, with all my strength
and caution, to paddle after the
unsteered HISPANIOLA. Once I shipped
a sea so heavy that I had to stop
and bail, with my heart fluttering
like a bird, but gradually I got
into the way of the thing and guided
my coracle among the waves, with
only now and then a blow upon her
bows and a dash of foam in my face.
I was now gaining rapidly on the
schooner; I could see the brass
glisten on the tiller as it banged
about, and still no soul appeared
upon her decks. I could not choose
but suppose she was deserted. If
not, the men were lying drunk below,
where I might batten them down,
perhaps, and do what I chose with
the ship. For some time she had been doing the
worse thing possible for me—standing
still. She headed nearly due south,
yawing, of course, all the time.
Each time she fell off, her sails
partly filled, and these brought her
in a moment right to the wind again.
I have said this was the worst thing
possible for me, for helpless as she
looked in this situation, with the
canvas cracking like cannon and the
blocks trundling and banging on the
deck, she still continued to run
away from me, not only with the
speed of the current, but by the
whole amount of her leeway, which
was naturally great. But now, at last, I had my chance.
The breeze fell for some seconds,
very low, and the current gradually
turning her, the HISPANIOLA revolved
slowly round her centre and at last
presented me her stern, with the
cabin window still gaping open and
the lamp over the table still
burning on into the day. The
main-sail hung drooped like a
banner. She was stock-still but for
the current. For the last little while I had even
lost, but now redoubling my efforts,
I began once more to overhaul the
chase. I was not a hundred yards from her
when the wind came again in a clap;
she filled on the port tack and was
off again, stooping and skimming
like a swallow. My first impulse was one of despair,
but my second was towards joy. Round
she came, till she was broadside on
to me—round still till she had
covered a half and then two thirds
and then three quarters of the
distance that separated us. I could
see the waves boiling white under
her forefoot. Immensely tall she
looked to me from my low station in
the coracle. And then, of a sudden, I began to
comprehend. I had scarce time to
think—scarce time to act and save
myself. I was on the summit of one
swell when the schooner came
stooping over the next. The bowsprit
was over my head. I sprang to my
feet and leaped, stamping the
coracle under water. With one hand I
caught the jib-boom, while my foot
was lodged between the stay and the
brace; and as I still clung there
panting, a dull blow told me that
the schooner had charged down upon
and struck the coracle and that I
was left without retreat on the
HISPANIOLA. |
