It is impossible to explain the navigation amongst islands or their
life without the wind. It is the wind that transports the seeds and
the birds and favours fishing. It is also the wind that stirs up the
heart and invites adventure. We are still caressed by the memory of
those first seafarers that we find in the names of ships like “La
Hispaniola”. The swift wind that surrounds the most famous island
of all, “Treasure Island”.
Chapter XXIV The Cruise of the Coracle
YIt 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 Mizzen-mast 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 rocks 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 the 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
seawater 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 a while 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 bale, 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 worst 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.
The treasure island. Robert Louis Stevenson.
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