The Cruise of the Mary Rose; Or, Here and There in the PacificKingston, William Henry Giles
Religion
The Cruise of the Mary Rose; Or, Here and There in the Pacific
Kingston, William Henry Giles
Conduct of life -- Fiction; Islands of the Pacific -- Fiction; Missions -- Islands of the Pacific -- Fiction; Sea stories
We had made good some five or six hundred yards, when I thought that we
might make faster progress on the higher ground, where the water would
not be so great an impediment to our progress. I knew also that we
should be able to steer our course more or less directly by feeling the
direction the water was flowing, so that we might always regain the sea
by following down the streams. Accordingly we attempted gradually to
gain the higher ground, but as we ascended, we felt the wind blowing
with greater force, and were again nearly carried off our legs by it. I
had to exert all the energies of my mind not to become totally
bewildered. Over rough rocks we climbed, and fallen trunks of trees,
and through the beds of streams, down which the fierce waters now rushed
foaming and roaring with fearful force, and across swamps and marshes,
till at last we reached a grove of tall trees. We could discover no way
round it, so I resolved to push through it by a path in which we found
ourselves. The trees were bending and writhing, and the loud crashes we
heard told us that every instant some were hurled to the ground. Now
one fell directly before me, and impeded my progress. I climbed over
it, my companion followed, and we continued our course, guided as before
by the way the rain beat on our heads and the waters flowed past our
feet. Again the thunder rolled loudly and the lightning flashed with
startling vividness, casting a horrid glare over the whole scene, now
darting amid the lofty boughs, and then snake-like running with loud
hisses along the ground. How utterly helpless and insignificant I felt
amid the war of the elements.
Still onward we must advance. How much farther I could not tell. My
companion's frequent shout cheered me. Perhaps trusting to the aid of
another made me more careless, for neglecting for an instant to keep my
stick feeling the ground before me, I stumbled forward, and found myself
floundering in a foaming stream. My cry prevented my companion from
falling likewise. Descending more cautiously he rushed into the flood
after me, and seizing me by the jacket just as I was being borne down,
assisted me to regain my feet, and helped me across, the water being
scarcely up to our middles. In another instant I should have been
carried helplessly down the stream beyond my depth. We struggled out, I
scarcely know how, and pushed on.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account