THE BOATS OF THE 'GLEN CARRIG' Being an account of their Adventures in the Strange places of the Earth, after the foundering of the good ship _Glen Carrig_ through striking upon a hidden rock in the unknown seas to the Southward. As told by John Winterstraw, Gent., to his son James Winterstraw, in the year 1757, and by him committed very properly and legibly to manuscript. By William Hope Hodgson 1907 _Madre Mia_ People may say thou art no longer young And yet, to me, thy youth was yesterday, A yesterday that seems Still mingled with my dreams. Ah! how the years have o'er thee flung Their soft mantilla, grey. And e'en to them thou art not over old; How could'st thou be! Thy hair Hast scarcely lost its deep old glorious dark: Thy face is scarcely lined. No mark Destroys its calm serenity. Like gold Of evening light, when winds scarce stir, The soul-light of thy face is pure as prayer. I The Land of Lonesomeness Now we had been five days in the boats, and in all this time made no discovering of land. Then upon the morning of the sixth day came there a cry from the bo'sun, who had the command of the lifeboat, that there was something which might be land afar upon our larboard bow; but it was very low lying, and none could tell whether it was land or but a morning cloud. Yet, because there was the beginning of hope within our hearts, we pulled wearily towards it, and thus, in about an hour, discovered it to be indeed the coast of some flat country. Then, it might be a little after the hour of midday, we had come so close to it that we could distinguish with ease what manner of land lay beyond the shore, and thus we found it to be of an abominable flatness, desolate beyond all that I could have imagined. Here and there it appeared to be covered with clumps of queer vegetation; though whether they were small trees or great bushes, I had no means of telling; but this I know, that they were like unto nothing which ever I had set eyes upon before. So much as this I gathered as we pulled slowly along the coast, seeking an opening whereby we could pass inward to the land; but a weary time passed or ere we came upon that which we sought. Yet, in the end, we found it--a slimy-banked creek, which proved to be the estuary of a great river, though we spoke of it always as a creek. Into this we entered, and proceeded at no great pace upwards along its winding course; and as we made forward, we scanned the low banks upon each side, perchance there might be some spot where we could make to land; but we found none--the banks being composed of a vile mud which gave us no encouragement to venture rashly upon them.