Sea stories, American; Seafaring life -- Fiction; Short stories, American
"By pantomime, I called his attention to the shift of wind. Again he
nodded—then ducked his head in Wilbur’s direction, shouting something
that I couldn’t quite follow. ’... Change our tactics ...’ was what I
understood him to say.
"What did he mean by that? My mind refused to function, save in
channels of fantastic conjecture. I’d gained the impression that he was
disappointed at the present turn of affairs. Had he depended on the
centre of the typhoon for his climax? Good God, had he wanted it to
catch us? As matters stood, it was only by the extreme grace of
providence that we remained alive. Now, it seems, something had
miscarried, we must change our tactics ... find some new horror to take
the place of the one that had passed us by.
"He beckoned me to come closer; grasping the cross-rail, I swung down
beside him.
"’I know our position’ he cried in my ear ’Have no alarm, my friend.
There are two large islands, and a third behind them, small like a
button. Watch closely the button, while I steer. When it touches the
high headland of the second larger island, give me the news instantly’
"He had hauled the junk a trifle to port as he spoke, and now with every
opportunity began edging toward the land. Perilous business, in that
tremendous seaway; but he executed the manoeuvre with infinite patience
and caution, with consummate skill. Wilbur had now seen the land, had
straightened his figure and leaned forward, watching it intently.
Distances were veiled and distorted in that murky atmosphere; we were
nearer to the headland than I had at first supposed. For perhaps twenty
minutes we ran on, a tense new excitement tugging at our hearts. Then,
as we raced before the gale, I felt the sea begin to grow calmer;
glancing to windward, I saw on the horizon a fringe of spouting reefs,
and realized that we’d entered the zone of their protection. The tall
headland, which now revealed itself as the point of the second island,
grew plainer with every moment; soon I made out the island like a
button, and saw it closing rapidly on the land behind.
"’_Now!_’ I shouted to Lee Fu, holding up both my arms, when the two
points of land had touched.
"He swung the sampan a couple of points to starboard, discovering close
beneath our bows the tip of another reef that stretched toward the land
diagonally across the path of the wind. In a moment we were abreast
this point of reef; a hundred yards away its spray lashed our decks, as
the low-lying black rocks caught the broken wash of the storm. Another
swing of the great tiller, and we had hauled up in the lee of the
reef—in quiet water at last, but with the gale still screaming overhead
like a defeated demon. We reached along this weather shore in a smother
of spray, until we came abruptly to the little island. This we passed
with a rush, and shot forward into a relatively smooth basin that lay
under the protection of the high headland on the larger island.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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