Adventure stories; Sea stories; Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction
Having got them both into one piece, I made a loop at the end, taking
care that the post should be _inside_ the loop. This done, I pushed the
loop up till it was above the shoulder of the staff--right "chuck" up to
the barrel--and then I drew it tight and close. It remained only to
pass the other end through my buttoned jacket, and knot it round the
cloth. This I managed after a little, and then lying back, tried it
with my whole weight. I even let go with my feet, and hung suspended
for a moment or two; and had any pilot just then have seen me through
his night-glass, he could have had but one belief--that suicide or some
terrible crime had been committed.
Over-wearied, half-drowned was I, and I will not say whether or not I
laughed at the odd attitude in which I had placed myself; but I could
have laughed, for from that moment I knew no further fear. I felt that
I was delivered from death, as certainly as if I had seen Harry Blew and
his boat rowing within ten yards of me. The storm might rage, rain
fall, and wind blow; spray might pitch over and around me; but I was
satisfied that I should be able to keep my position in spite of all.
True, it was far from being as comfortable as I might have wished it;
but now that the peril was past I began to consider how I could improve
it. My feet gave me the most trouble. Every now and then my legs
exhibited a tendency to get tired and let go their hold, and then I
dropped back to my _hanging_ attitude again.
This was unpleasant and somewhat dangerous, but I did not allow it to
vex me long. There was a cure for this, like everything else, and I
soon discovered it. I split up the legs of my pantaloons quite to the
knees--as good luck would have it they were corduroy like the jacket--
and then taking the two long pieces that hung down, I gave them a twist
or two, passed them round the post, and knotted them together on the
opposite side. This furnished a rest for the lower half of my body; and
thus, half sitting, half hanging, I passed the remainder of the night.
When I tell you that I saw the tide go out, and leave the rocks bare,
you will think I surely released myself from my perch, and got down upon
the reef. But I did nothing of the kind. I had no idea of trusting
myself on those rocks again if I could help it.
I was not comfortable where I was, but still I could endure it for a
while longer; and I feared to make any alteration in the premises lest I
might have to use them again. Moreover, I knew that where I was I
should very likely be seen from the shore as soon as the day broke, and
then relief would be sure to be sent to me.
And it was sent, or came without any sending. Scarcely was the red
Aurora above the water-line, when I perceived a boat making towards me
with all speed; and as soon as it drew near, I saw, what I had guessed
long before, that it was Harry Blew himself that was handling the oars.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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