Morley Ashton: A Story of the Sea. Volume 1 (of 3)Grant, James
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Morley Ashton: A Story of the Sea. Volume 1 (of 3)
Grant, James
Fiction; Sea stories; Yellowback books
But Heaven had ordained that the poor lad was not to perish. About
thirty-five, perhaps forty feet below the verge of the chine, there
extends a ledge or abutting piece of rock, about five feet broad, and
eight or ten feet long, so far as the eye may judge of it from the
seaward, as mortal hand has never measured it; and on this natural
shelf he fell heavily, and almost senseless by emotion and the shock.
A thick coarse moss, of a kind that has grown there for ages, mingled
with a species of guano deposited by the sea-birds, received him
softly, and broke the force of his fall, which, had the face of the
basalt been bare, must have produced the most fatal injuries.
For some time Morley thought all was over, and he lay still--half
stunned alike by the shock and by the suddenness of the whole event.
Then his heart filled with a gush of gratitude to Heaven that he was
saved, till reflection brought a thrill of horror that he was now
utterly lost.
He heard still the ceaseless roaring and bellowing of the breakers,
gurgling, sucking, and surging in the chine; he heard also the wild
screaming of the sea-birds above and below him, as the astonished
gulls and cormorants wheeled in circles, or alighted on the shelf of
rock beside him, and flapped their wings with a sharp and at times
booming sound.
The evening passed away, and night came on before Morley dared to
stir, to move, or look about him. In all its starry splendour, he
could see the Plough and the glorious stream of the Milky Way.
Then the moon, that whilom rose as we have said, red and round as a
crimson shield, at the far verge of the watery horizon, had gradually
reached almost to the zenith, when her disc, small and sharply
defined, shone like a ball of glowing silver amid the sparkling ether.
A broad flake of her glorious sheen poured aslant into the gaping
chine, increasing, perhaps, its weird and ghastly aspect; but this
broad stream of light enabled poor Morley to examine the place of his
fall, and he soon saw in all their details the horrors of his
hopeless situation.
Above, the rock ascended sheer as a wall to the height we have
stated--a wall up which it was hopeless to think of climbing.
Below, the cliff receded from the ledge on which he lay, so that in
reality the sea was foaming completely beneath him.
From the land-side his position could neither be seen nor even
discovered in any way whatever; and even if it were so, in what way
were the finders to succour him?
How many ships might pass before even a sailor's ready eye might
detect a human figure perched so far up, among the hungry cormorants
and shrieking sea-mews?
Without shelter, food, or water, how long could he survive on the
giddy shelf of that storm-beaten sea-cliff, where he dared not close
an eye lest he might roll into eternity below?
To ascend was impracticable; to descend was to die!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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