Kabanata Kabanata 24 · XXIV. The Cruise of the Coracle

XXIV. The Cruise of the Coracle

It was broad day when I awoke and found myself tossing at the south-west

end of Treasure Island. The sun was up but was still hid from me behind

the great bulk of the Spy-glass, which on this side descended almost to

the sea in formidable cliffs.

Haulbowline Head and Mizzenmast Hill were at my elbow, the hill bare

and dark, the head bound with cliffs forty or fifty feet high and

fringed with great masses of fallen rock. I was scarce a quarter of a

mile to seaward, and it was my first thought to paddle in and land.

That notion was soon given over. Among the fallen rocks the breakers

spouted and bellowed; loud reverberations, heavy sprays flying and

falling, succeeded one another from second to second; and I saw myself,

if I ventured nearer, dashed to death upon the rough shore or spending

my strength in vain to scale the beetling crags.

Nor was that all, for crawling together on flat tables of rock or

letting themselves drop into the sea with loud reports I beheld huge

slimy monsters--soft snails, as it were, of incredible bigness--two

or three score of them together, making the rocks to echo with their

barkings.

I have understood since that they were sea lions, and entirely harmless.

But the look of them, added to the difficulty of the shore and the

high running of the surf, was more than enough to disgust me of that

landing-place. I felt willing rather to starve at sea than to confront

such perils.

In the meantime I had a better chance, as I supposed, before me. North

of Haulbowline Head, the land runs in a long way, leaving at low tide

a long stretch of yellow sand. To the north of that, again, there comes

another cape--Cape of the Woods, as it was marked upon the chart--buried

in tall green pines, which descended to the margin of the sea.

I remembered what Silver had said about the current that sets northward

along the whole west coast of Treasure Island, and seeing from my

position that I was already under its influence, I preferred to leave

Haulbowline Head behind me and reserve my strength for an attempt to

land upon the kindlier-looking Cape of the Woods.

There was a great, smooth swell upon the sea. The wind blowing steady

and gentle from the south, there was no contrariety between that and the

current, and the billows rose and fell unbroken.

Had it been otherwise, I must long ago have perished; but as it was,

it is surprising how easily and securely my little and light boat could

ride. Often, as I still lay at the bottom and kept no more than an eye

above the gunwale, I would see a big blue summit heaving close above me;

yet the coracle would but bounce a little, dance as if on springs, and

subside on the other side into the trough as lightly as a bird.

I began after a little to grow very bold and sat up to try my skill at

paddling. But even a small change in the disposition of the weight will

produce violent changes in the behaviour of a coracle. And I had hardly

moved before the boat, giving up at once her gentle dancing movement,

ran straight down a slope of water so steep that it made me giddy, and

struck her nose, with a spout of spray, deep into the side of the next

wave.

I was drenched and terrified, and fell instantly back into my old

position, whereupon the coracle seemed to find her head again and led

me as softly as before among the billows. It was plain she was not to be

interfered with, and at that rate, since I could in no way influence her

course, what hope had I left of reaching land?

I began to be horribly frightened, but I kept my head, for all that.

First, moving with all care, I gradually baled out the coracle with my

sea-cap; then, getting my eye once more above the gunwale, I set myself

to study how it was she managed to slip so quietly through the rollers.

I found each wave, instead of the big, smooth glossy mountain it looks

from shore or from a vessel’s deck, was for all the world like any range

of hills on dry land, full of peaks and smooth places and valleys. The

coracle, left to herself, turning from side to side, threaded, so to

speak, her way through these lower parts and avoided the steep slopes

and higher, toppling summits of the wave.

“Well, now,” thought I to myself, “it is plain I must lie where I am and

not disturb the balance; but it is plain also that I can put the paddle

over the side and from time to time, in smooth places, give her a shove

or two towards land.” No sooner thought upon than done. There I lay on

my elbows in the most trying attitude, and every now and again gave a

weak stroke or two to turn her head to shore.

It was very tiring and slow work, yet I did visibly gain ground; and as

we drew near the Cape of the Woods, though I saw I must infallibly

miss that point, I had still made some hundred yards of easting. I was,

indeed, close in. I could see the cool green tree-tops swaying together

in the breeze, and I felt sure I should make the next promontory without

fail.

It was high time, for I now began to be tortured with thirst. The glow

of the sun from above, its thousandfold reflection from the waves, the

sea-water that fell and dried upon me, caking my very lips with salt,

combined to make my throat burn and my brain ache. The sight of the

trees so near at hand had almost made me sick with longing, but the

current had soon carried me past the point, and as the next reach of sea

opened out, I beheld a sight that changed the nature of my thoughts.

Right in front of me, not half a mile away, I beheld the HISPANIOLA

under sail. I made sure, of course, that I should be taken; but I was

so distressed for want of water that I scarce knew whether to be glad

or sorry at the thought, and long before I had come to a conclusion,

surprise had taken entire possession of my mind and I could do nothing

but stare and wonder.

The HISPANIOLA was under her main-sail and two jibs, and the beautiful

white canvas shone in the sun like snow or silver. When I first

sighted her, all her sails were drawing; she was lying a course about

north-west, and I presumed the men on board were going round the island

on their way back to the anchorage. Presently she began to fetch more

and more to the westward, so that I thought they had sighted me and were

going about in chase. At last, however, she fell right into the wind’s

eye, was taken dead aback, and stood there awhile helpless, with her

sails shivering.

“Clumsy fellows,” said I; “they must still be drunk as owls.” And I

thought how Captain Smollett would have set them skipping.

Meanwhile the schooner gradually fell off and filled again upon another

tack, sailed swiftly for a minute or so, and brought up once more dead

in the wind’s eye. Again and again was this repeated. To and fro, up and

down, north, south, east, and west, the HISPANIOLA sailed by swoops

and dashes, and at each repetition ended as she had begun, with idly

flapping canvas. It became plain to me that nobody was steering. And if

so, where were the men? Either they were dead drunk or had deserted her,

I thought, and perhaps if I could get on board I might return the vessel

to her captain.

The current was bearing coracle and schooner southward at an equal rate.

As for the latter’s sailing, it was so wild and intermittent, and she

hung each time so long in irons, that she certainly gained nothing, if

she did not even lose. If only I dared to sit up and paddle, I made

sure that I could overhaul her. The scheme had an air of adventure

that inspired me, and the thought of the water breaker beside the fore

companion doubled my growing courage.

Up I got, was welcomed almost instantly by another cloud of spray, but

this time stuck to my purpose and set myself, with all my strength and

caution, to paddle after the unsteered HISPANIOLA. Once I shipped a sea

so heavy that I had to stop and bail, with my heart fluttering like

a bird, but gradually I got into the way of the thing and guided my

coracle among the waves, with only now and then a blow upon her bows and

a dash of foam in my face.

I was now gaining rapidly on the schooner; I could see the brass glisten

on the tiller as it banged about, and still no soul appeared upon her

decks. I could not choose but suppose she was deserted. If not, the men

were lying drunk below, where I might batten them down, perhaps, and do

what I chose with the ship.

For some time she had been doing the worse thing possible for

me--standing still. She headed nearly due south, yawing, of course, all

the time. Each time she fell off, her sails partly filled, and these

brought her in a moment right to the wind again. I have said this was

the worst thing possible for me, for helpless as she looked in this

situation, with the canvas cracking like cannon and the blocks trundling

and banging on the deck, she still continued to run away from me, not

only with the speed of the current, but by the whole amount of her

leeway, which was naturally great.

But now, at last, I had my chance. The breeze fell for some seconds,

very low, and the current gradually turning her, the HISPANIOLA revolved

slowly round her centre and at last presented me her stern, with the

cabin window still gaping open and the lamp over the table still burning

on into the day. The main-sail hung drooped like a banner. She was

stock-still but for the current.

For the last little while I had even lost, but now redoubling my

efforts, I began once more to overhaul the chase.

I was not a hundred yards from her when the wind came again in a clap;

she filled on the port tack and was off again, stooping and skimming

like a swallow.

My first impulse was one of despair, but my second was towards joy.

Round she came, till she was broadside on to me--round still till she

had covered a half and then two thirds and then three quarters of the

distance that separated us. I could see the waves boiling white under

her forefoot. Immensely tall she looked to me from my low station in the

coracle.

And then, of a sudden, I began to comprehend. I had scarce time to

think--scarce time to act and save myself. I was on the summit of one

swell when the schooner came stooping over the next. The bowsprit was

over my head. I sprang to my feet and leaped, stamping the coracle under

water. With one hand I caught the jib-boom, while my foot was lodged

between the stay and the brace; and as I still clung there panting, a

dull blow told me that the schooner had charged down upon and struck the

coracle and that I was left without retreat on the HISPANIOLA.