Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 7Sylvester, Charles Herbert
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Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 7
Sylvester, Charles Herbert
Children's literature; Literature -- Collections
"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 toward 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 now I 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 mainsail 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 northwest;
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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