Norman, totally unable to make head against the wind, now resolved to
tack about for the south, dangerous as it would be to have the boat
before the wind, pursued by waves advancing at double its speed. Yes, to
tack, although this course would probably bring them all to the southern
shores of the lake, far away from their destination.
The Lieutenant and his brave companion were well aware of the danger
which threatened them. The frail boat could not long resist the blows
of the waves, it would either be crushed or capsized; the lives of those
within it were in the hands of God.
But neither yielded to despair; clinging to the sides of the boat, wet
to the skin, chilled to the bone by the cutting blast, they strove
to gaze through the thick mist and fog. All trace of the land had
disappeared, and so great was the obscurity that at a cable’s length
from the boat clouds and waves could not be distinguished from each
other. Now and then the two travellers looked inquiringly into old
Norman’s face, who, with teeth set and hands clutching the tiller;
tried to keep his boat as much as possible under wind.
But the violence of the squall became such that the boat could not long
maintain this course. The waves which struck its bow would soon have
inevitably crushed it; the front planks were already beginning to
separate, and when its whole weight was flung into the hollows of the
waves it seemed as if it could rise no more.
“We must tack, we must tack, whatever happens !” murmured the old
sailor.
And pushing the tiller and paying out sail, he turned the head of the
boat to the south. The sail, stretched to the utmost, brought the boat
round with giddy rapidity, and the immense waves, chased by the wind,
threatened to engulf the little bark. This was the great danger of
shifting with the wind right aft. The billows hurled themselves in rapid
succession upon the boat, which could not evade them. It filled rapidly,
and the water bad to be baled out without a moment’s pause, or it must
have foundered. As they got nearer and nearer to the middle of the lake
the waves became rougher. Nothing there broke the fury of the wind; no
clumps of trees, no hills, checked for a moment the headlong course of
the hurricane. Now and then momentary glimpses were obtained through the
fog of icebergs dancing like buoys upon the waves, and driven towards
the south of the lake.
It was half-past five. Neither Norman nor the Lieutenant had any idea of
where they were, or whither they were going. They had lost all control
over the boat, and were at the mercy of the winds and waves.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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