Adventure stories -- Authorship; Marryat, Frederick, 1792-1848; Novelists, English -- 19th century -- Biography; Sea stories -- Authorship
“The boat was filling with water, and appeared to settle down
fast. The men baled with their hats in silence, when a large wave
culminated over the stern, filling us up to our thwarts. The next
moment we all received a shock so violent, that we were jerked from
our seats. Swinburne was thrown over my head. Every timber of the
boat separated at once, and she appeared to crumble from under us,
leaving us floating on the raging waters. We all struck out for
our lives, but with little hope of preserving them; but the next
wave washed us on the rocks, against which the boat had already
been hurled. That wave gave life to some, and death to others. Me,
in Heaven’s mercy, it preserved: I was thrown so high up, that I
merely scraped against the top of the rock, breaking two of my
ribs. Swinburne, and eight more, escaped with me, but not unhurt;
two had their legs broken, three had broken arms, and the others
were more or less contused. Swinburne miraculously received no
injury. We had been eighteen in the boat, of which ten escaped:
the others were hurled up at our feet; and the next morning we
found them dreadfully mangled. One or two had their heads literally
shattered to pieces against the rocks. I felt that I was saved,
and was grateful; but still the hurricane howled--still the waves
were washing over us. I crawled further up upon the beach, and
found Swinburne sitting down with his eyes directed seaward. He
knew me, took my hand, squeezed it, and then held it in his. For
some moments we remained in this position, when the waves, which
every moment increased in volume, washed up to us, and obliged
us to crawl further up. I then looked around me: the hurricane
continued in its fury, but the atmosphere was not so dark. I could
trace for some distance the line of the harbour, from the ridge of
foam upon the shore: and for the first time I thought of O’Brien
and the brig. I put my mouth close to Swinburne’s ear, and cried
out, ‘O’Brien!’ Swinburne shook his head, and looked up again at
the offing. I thought whether there was any chance of the brig’s
escape. She was certainly six, if not seven miles off, and the
hurricane was not direct on the shore. She might have a drift
of ten miles, perhaps; but what was that against such tremendous
power?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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