I PUT OUT INTO THE DARKNESS.
As soon as the daylight appeared, I put my head out of the
tilt-opening to take a look at the weather. But I very quickly drew it
in again; for within a yard of my face was the massive and unlovely
snout of a hippopotamus.
Recovering somewhat from the start he had given me I cautiously peered
out again. The huge brute was standing in the shallow water, gazing at
the canoe with a fat, stolid smile of conscious superiority that I
found highly offensive, and I wished he would go away. Such, however,
did not seem to be his intention; he had never seen a canoe like this
before, and apparently he was making the most of the experience, for
he stood motionless, with his absurd little eyes fixed on me,
breathing softly like a blacksmith’s bellows, with an exasperating air
of contentment.
If I hoisted my anchor, the canoe would drift right on to him, and a
sudden movement on his part would be enough to send me to the bottom.
It was excessively awkward, for I was anxious to start, and equally
anxious to get away from his immediate neighbourhood. I thought of
trying the effect of a sudden shout, but I could not tell how he would
take it, and he was so very large. Presently he yawned, offering for
my inspection a most remarkable collection of very yellow teeth, and I
hoped he was becoming bored; but when he closed his cavernous mouth,
he resumed his consideration of the canoe with unabated interest.
As he was apparently a fixture, I set about extricating myself from my
unpleasant position. Putting the helm hard over and lashing it, I
began to slowly haul in the cable until the canoe swung round across
the current, clear of the hippopotamus. Then I dropped the sinker and
pulled up the anchor, and immediately my bark began to move obliquely
down stream and out into the main current.
The hippopotamus gazed regretfully at the retreating canoe, and when
it had passed some distance, to my dismay, he walked into the deeper
water and began to swim slowly after it. It was not long before he
came abreast and passed, when he turned his head up-stream and floated
down with his eyes fixed on the canoe, from which he maintained a
distance of a few yards. Clearly his intentions were not hostile; but,
although prompted apparently by mere curiosity, his proceedings caused
me considerable uneasiness, and I continued to watch him so closely
that I had drifted into a new danger without observing it.
Half-way down the reach that I had just entered, a long canoe was
putting off from the bank, and the eight or nine men in her had
evidently noticed my canoe, for they were standing up, staring in my
direction and pointing, while they shouted to some people on the
shore. As I came nearer I could see quite a considerable crowd on the
bank, and it was manifest that my vessel and its strange companion
were the objects of keen curiosity, for the people on the bank as well
as those in the canoe gazed steadily at the approaching phenomenon.
The hippopotamus floated on, stern foremost, all unconscious of the
spectators, while I, crouching inside the tilt (although the rain had
ceased), was concealed from view; but, as the native canoe was being
poled up on the shallow side of the river, apparently with the object
of intercepting my vessel, I thought it time to make my appearance. I
therefore tied on my wig (the horns of which rendered it highly
inconvenient inside the tilt), and as the canoe pushed off to meet me,
I thrust my head out through the opening.
The first person who saw me was a man in the bow of the dug-out, and
he announced his discovery by upsetting three of his companions in a
frantic attempt to get to the other end of the craft, and finally
falling on top of them yelling like a maniac.
For a short time, the dug-out was a scene of wild confusion, every man
endeavouring to seize a pole or paddle; but she soon reached the bank
and was empty in a twinkling, and when I drifted past the
landing-place not a soul was in sight.
At the first outburst of noise, the hippopotamus had dived, and I now
saw him near the top of the reach going up stream at a speed that
filled me with envy.
The remainder of the day passed with little incident. When the rain
fell, I set up the tilt and lowered the drag, and when it was fine I
lowered the tilt and paddled. Once I had to unload the canoe to take
her down some rapids, but this caused only a trifling delay; and by
the time I let go my anchor for the night in the shelter of a
sandbank, I reckoned I had travelled over sixty miles since daybreak.
The next two days saw a repetition of the experiences I have recorded
above. One or two unloadings and restowings, one actual portage of a
couple of hundred yards, a little paddling, and a great deal of
drifting in the heavy rain, would be the principal items in my log. I
saw surprisingly few people, a fact that was probably accounted for by
the almost incessant rain--for the African is not more partial to
getting wet than other people; nor was I troubled any more by animals
until the latter half of the fifth day, when the crocodiles began to
be unpleasantly numerous and of portentous size. Even these reptiles
did not actually molest me, but they were very disagreeable objects to
look at, under the circumstances, as they lay on the bank with their
enormous jaws agape, while the little spur-winged plover ran round
them and peered into the yawning cavities in search of leeches.
I turned in that night with much less feeling of security than I had
hitherto experienced, for I felt that if one of these immense brutes
should take it into his ugly head to climb on to the canoe, he would
either capsize it or scratch a hole through the skin. But nothing
untoward happened in the night, and I woke in the morning in high
spirits and full of hope.
Indeed, the greater, and by far the most perilous, part of my voyage
was over, for the great width of the river, as well as the time I had
been on my journey, told me that the coast could not be far off; and
once on the coast, was I not in the protected territory of His
Britannic Majesty? In a land of incorruptible police and district
commissioners without spot or wrinkle?
Up to the present there had been no opportunity for using the sail,
for the river had been so shut in by the forest that the air was
nearly motionless; but now the great width of the stream allowed a
light breeze to steal up from the south. This was a head wind, it is
true, but with my leeboards down and the swift current running to
windward I could afford to sail very close, and if I gained little in
speed, it was more amusing to sail than to drift. So I stepped the
mast, bent the halyard on to the yard and hoisted the sail. Even in
that gentle breeze the grey, wrinkled sail gave quite an encouraging
pull on the sheet; and when I let down one leeboard and sailed the
canoe pretty full across the river, I was delighted to see the way in
which the floating rubbish slipped past her side.
Having made this trial of her speed, I put her as close to the wind as
she would go, and tacked to and fro across the river; and thus made
nearly as much headway as if I had been working with the paddle.
The weather was very pleasant on this morning--the sixth of my
solitary voyage; showery, but bright and sunny in the intervals, and
as I sat lazily grasping the tiller, I could not but note with
admiration the beauty of the scene. On either bank the rich, soft
foliage crowded down to the very water’s edge, an impenetrable mass of
living green, while the slender trunks and branches of the great
trees, snow-white in the sunlight, soaring away above the lesser
vegetation, spread abroad their leafy canopies. Fantastic lianas
drooped in strange festoons from tree to tree, orchids blossomed on
the boughs, ferns nestled in the undergrowth, and at the margin of the
river, its form faithfully repeated in the still water under the bank,
the oil-palm lifted its plumy head with indescribable loveliness and
grace.
It was wonderfully beautiful, this exuberant life and warm luxuriance
of the forest; but I was tired of it--tired of its silence and gloom,
its steamy, humid air, its vastness and its loneliness; and I longed
for the hum of human life, the bustle and clamour of men at work, and
the familiar voice of the sea.
Meditating thus, I tacked my little bark across and across, down the
wide reaches by wooded promontories and shady bays, for a couple of
hours. And then, as if in obedience to my unspoken wishes, there came
a change in the scene. The lofty forest began to recede from the
river, and at the water’s edge there appeared scattered clumps of
bushes of a colourless sagy green. At first they were few and wide
apart, but soon they drew together, creeping out into the shallows and
hiding the banks, while the forest retreated farther and farther,
until it vanished behind their summits.
Then all the beauty of the river was gone, and I looked upon a bare
expanse of yellow water, bounded on each side by a low wall of
sage-green foliage, monotonous and ugly, but yet to me most welcome.
It was the mangrove.
As I coasted inshore, peering into the gloom among the hideous,
skeleton roots of this amphibious forest, I passed, now and again, the
mouths of little creeks or channels that appeared to penetrate the
swamp. Presently I encountered an island of mangrove, separated from
the main swamp by a comparatively broad channel, and reflecting that
this creek must open again into the river lower down, I thought I
might take this opportunity to examine the interior of a mangrove
swamp. So I lowered the sail and mast, and putting the canoe into the
channel, allowed her to drift along on the current, which I now
noticed had grown quite sluggish, while I tied on my wig, in case I
should unexpectedly meet any of the natives.
Soon the channel grew much narrower, but as it was still open ahead, I
let the canoe drift on while I looked about me and marvelled at the
strangeness of the scene. The trees--if I may call them by that
name--appeared to be mere confused tangles of branches, without trunks
and standing upon high stilt-like roots that arched and twisted in the
most astonishing manner. Moreover, fresh roots appeared, springing
from the most unexpected places, some even from the very highest
branches, and these dropped down as straight as a plumb-line with
their round ends pointing at the water like attenuated fingers.
Before I had drifted very far, the foliage closed completely over the
creek, converting it into a dim and gloomy tunnel, and producing a
most extraordinary illusion; for the stillness inside the swamp was so
absolute that the surface of the water was invisible, the reflections
of the trees being quite continuous with the trees themselves, and the
one indistinguishable from the other. Overhead was a tangle of
branches and leaves, and a similar tangle appeared at an equal
distance underneath, while the strange, contorted roots merged above
and below into the branches. Thus, as I drifted along, I appeared to
be suspended in mid-air in the axis of a large tube of foliage, and
the weird, fantastic effect was not lessened when I looked overboard
and was confronted by a hideous, horned apparition peering up at me
from below.
Such animal life as there was, was in keeping with the ghostly
unreality of the scene. Big, piebald kingfishers sat motionless and
silent on the roots, with an inverted duplicate perching on the
inverted roots below; and purple-bodied crabs crawled along the
branches overhead, squinting horribly and seeming to grin with secret
amusement at their incongruous position.
I was so much engrossed by the strangeness and novelty of my
surroundings that I hardly noticed the passage of time; and I had been
drifting along near upon half an hour before I realised how great a
delay had been caused by my entering this creek. Then indeed I
suddenly became anxious, and even thought of turning back, but
reflecting that I should have to return against the current and might
possibly miss my way, I decided to push on. So I took my paddle and
struck out vigorously, covering the mirror-like surface with ripples
and shattering the reflections into a labyrinth of waving zigzags. The
canoe now slid through the tortuous tunnel at a good pace, and after
traversing a half-mile or so of devious windings, I came in sight of a
wide opening; and as my little craft shot through this out into the
light of day, I could have shouted for joy, for straight ahead was no
forest-clad bank or dingy mangrove, but an ocean-like expanse of grey
water, stretching away to the horizon and beyond.
At last I was out of the river and on the great Eyi lagoon; beyond
that grey horizon were the sand dunes of Appolonia; behind the sand
dunes was the Sea!
My exultation received a check at the outset, although not a serious
one, for I had barely emerged from the creek when I felt my paddle
strike the bottom, and a minute later the canoe ran aground. The
explanation was at once obvious: the still water of the mangrove swamp
had allowed a mud-flat to form, and the waves of the lagoon, striking
the edge of this, had enclosed it with a chain of sand-banks. No doubt
there was a passage out, but as the sand-banks were but a little way
ahead and I could see the small waves breaking on the farther side, it
would be simpler to pull the canoe over the banks and launch her into
the deep water beyond. So, taking a look round to see that no small
crocodiles were lurking in the shallows, I stepped overboard and took
hold of the painter. Relieved of my weight the canoe floated again,
and I was able to tow her forward thirty or forty yards, when she once
more took the ground. I hauled with all my strength on the painter,
but could not drag her more than a few feet, and it was clear that she
must be, at least, partly unloaded before I could pull her over the
banks; so without more ado I lifted out a couple of bunches of
manillas and ran forward with them to the nearest sand-bank, where I
laid them down.
As each instalment of the cargo was removed, the canoe floated higher
and could be drawn nearer to the sand-bank, and by the time she was
half empty I had pulled her near enough to get her on to the rollers.
To lay down the lines and set the rollers was but the work of a
minute, and I now found that on the very gentle slope I could haul her
along without further unloading.
The distance was quite short, and as the lines stood well on the hard
sand, I soon had her over the bank and launched her into the little
popple of waves on the other side. The heap of manillas--only half of
my treasure--looked very precious and shining as they lay on the sand
at my feet, and I realised their immense value now in a way I had
never done before. But this was no time for gloating over my riches;
more than half the day was gone, the broad lagoon lay before me, and I
had yet to find some secure haven for the night. So I picked up the
jingling bunches and stowed them in their places along the floor of
the canoe, and sitting on the deck washed the mud and sand from my
feet before getting into the well.
At this moment I experienced a terrible shock, for there came to my
ear a single, distinct splash; and looking in the direction whence the
sound seemed to come, I noticed a small creek penetrating the
mangrove. It was very dark inside, but, looking at it attentively, I
could just make out the blunt end of a native canoe a short distance
from the entrance.
Here, at the end of my journey, my customary caution had forsaken me.
I had spread out the heap of shining gold in the broad daylight in
such perfect confidence in there being no onlookers, that I had taken
not the slightest precaution. And there could hardly be any doubt that
my treasure had been seen, although the occupant of the canoe was
invisible to me. It was more than provoking, for it might mean
disaster, and as I stepped the mast and pushed off from the shore, I
cursed my folly in making so unpardonable a slip.
But when once the sail was up and the leeboard down I felt more
comfortable, for a fine fresh breeze blew in from the sea, and the
canoe thrashed through the water at a pace that gave me confidence in
her powers. In a few minutes the shore was well astern, and I began to
hug myself with the belief that the occupant of the native canoe was
only some harmless fisherman gathering oysters from the mangrove
roots. But, from time to time, my eyes wandered uneasily to the
opening of the creek, until presently I saw the canoe emerge and,
coasting rapidly down inside the sand-banks, pass through some opening
out into the lagoon.
There was one man in the canoe and, oyster-gatherer as he probably
was, his appearance suggested something less unsophisticated than a
common fisherman, for he wore a velvet smoking-cap and a jacket and
trousers of coloured cotton--habiliments that seemed to savour of the
native trader or “scholar man.”
As soon as he had gained the open lagoon, he headed his craft straight
into my wake, and the energy and purpose with which he plied his pole
left me in little doubt that he was following me; from which two
unpleasant corollaries might be deduced, viz. that he had seen the
gold, and that he cared not a fig for my horns and beard, having
detected the white man under the disguise.
Soon the water grew too deep for his pole and he had to take to the
paddle, much to my satisfaction--for the paddle is a comparatively
feeble appliance for driving a large heavy dug-out--and as a result,
he soon began to fall astern; but he worked with a will, and soon I
saw that I should have great difficulty in shaking him off.
The behaviour of my canoe gave me unbounded satisfaction. She bore her
sail well, and would have carried more with ease, even in this fresh
breeze; her speed was fully up to my expectations, and, with her
leeboard down, she made hardly any leeway. She was quite dry, too,
although the lagoon was very choppy, and the sharp, hollow waves
struck her with great force; but I was glad I had put a high coaming
round the well, for the water splashed freely across the deck.
It was greatly against me in the race with my unknown pursuer that I
knew next to nothing of the locality and that I had no settled
destination, for had I only had some refuge to make for, I could have
drawn ahead of him without difficulty. As it was, my goal was the
south shore of the lagoon, which I knew ran parallel to the sea shore,
but how wide was the strip of land separating the lagoon from the sea,
I could not tell. It might be a few hundred yards or it might be
several miles.
I had not been sailing very long before a few scattered cocoa-nut
palms appeared above the horizon ahead and soon the south shore was
well in sight, running apparently due east and west; and as the wind
blew from the south-west, I had to sail pretty close-hauled to head
due south, in which, however, I was assisted by the current from the
river, which ran sluggishly to the west.
As I approached the shore, I rapidly turned over the alternatives it
presented. I could go about and sail due west towards Assiní, where
there was a European Station--French, I believed. But Assiní was a
long way off--from twenty to thirty miles--and I should have to sail
all night in unknown waters to reach it, while my pursuer would
certainly follow with reinforcements. Then I could go straight on
shore and investigate; or lastly, I could sail eastward with the wind
and look for a suitable place to land.
I chose the last plan, as it gave me the advantage of a fair wind, and
when I had come within a few hundred yards of the shore I turned
sharply to the east and ran along at fine speed in the smooth water,
with my sheet well out.
The appearance of the shore was not encouraging. The longed-for boom
of the surf was indeed audible, but it sounded a long way off, as if a
wide stretch of land lay between me and the sea; and straight ahead,
at a distance of a few miles, a headland jutted out far into the
lagoon.
Just as I was beginning to despair of getting to the sea, I opened a
small bay, at the head of which a rather wide creek could be seen,
winding away in a southerly direction. Without a moment’s hesitation I
put down my helm and, heading up the bay, entered the creek. It
appeared to be a temporary or recent opening through the land,
probably caused by the overflow of the lagoon at the first burst of
the rains, for its banks were destitute of vegetation and covered with
shingle; and I was in momentary dread of coming to the end of it,
especially as I noticed that the water was quite still and stagnant.
Finding the creek too narrow to sail in, I lowered the sail and mast
and took to the pole, with which I drove the canoe rapidly through the
sinuous channel, my hopes rising as reach after reach was passed. But
the banks gradually closed in, and the water grew shallower until
presently an ominous grating sensation told me that the keel was on
the bottom, and the next moment the canoe stopped dead.
I was now among a range of old grass-covered sand dunes, and the
hollow throb of the surf seemed close at hand, so, leaping ashore, I
ran up one of the dunes and looked south. But a few hundred yards away
was a bare and open beach with the snowy surf and the blue ocean
beyond; a mile to the west a small cluster of huts marked a fishing
village, but not a creature was in sight.
Turning my gaze northward, I swept the wide expanse of lagoon. On all
that great stretch of water I could see but a single human
figure--that of my pursuer, poling furiously (for he was now in the
shallows), and just entering the bay.
I ran quickly along the dwindling creek to its termination among the
sand-hills. From the foot of the dunes a level space of loose, blown
sand extended for a couple of hundred yards, then the actual beach
sloped down pretty steeply right into the surf.
If it had not been for this fellow who was dogging me so suspiciously,
my task would have been simple enough--until I launched into the surf;
and for a moment the idea of ridding myself of this enemy by a thrust
of my spear crossed my mind. But instantly dismissing it, I set about
unloading the canoe with all speed. There was no time to make any
arrangements for carrying the gold; I could only take up a pair of
bunches in each hand and stagger off with them to the foot of the
sand-hills, drop them there and return for more. But this took up a
considerable time, besides being very fatiguing, and I had only made
five journeys when, as I returned, I saw the velvet-capped head of my
pursuer over the land, zigzagging along the next reach but one.
By this time my canoe was well afloat again, so catching the painter I
ran off, towing her after me, and got her nearly a hundred yards
before she went aground again. As she did so, the dug-out suddenly
appeared round the bed of the creek, and the man, pole in hand, jumped
ashore and ran up into the sand-hills, where he disappeared.
Whether he was hiding to spy on me, or was preparing to take me
unawares, it was evidently impossible to continue the unloading, and I
was inclined to take the offensive and pursue him; but time was
pressing, for the afternoon was well advanced, so I got out my lines
and holding two of them on the bottom with my feet, pushed a roller
under the canoe’s fore-foot. With some difficulty I dragged her
forward a little distance, and then slipped another roller under, and
so managed to haul her right on to the rails, and when she was fairly
on the rollers, I drew her along quite easily, a good deal of the
weight being still borne by the water. I had pulled her along some
distance when I noticed a large shell on the bottom, and thinking this
might cut her skin, I stooped quickly to pick it up. As I did so, a
big stone whizzed past, a few inches above my head. Had I been
standing upright I should have been knocked senseless.
This sort of thing would not do, at any rate, I thought, so snatching
my catapult, stone-bag and spear from the canoe, I ran to a sand-hill
opposite the one from which the missile had appeared to come, and
creeping up it, crouched behind a high tussock of reedy grass. For
nearly a minute my antagonist remained invisible. Then a head was
warily advanced from behind the shoulder of the hill and slowly
followed by the body.
I fitted a good sized stone into my catapult and waited. Finding that
I made no sign, he crept farther forward, and I saw that he held a
large stone in one hand and a reserve of similar ones in the other.
Suddenly I perceived that he was about to fling a stone at the canoe,
possibly to draw me from my concealment; which it did, for I instantly
let fly the pebble from my catapult, hitting him on the bone of the
elbow; and as he leaped to his feet with a howl of rage, I caught up
my spear and charged down the slope at him. Before he could recover
himself I was so near that further dodging was out of the question,
and he turned tail and ran for his life down the sand-hills and out on
to the sandy flat, while I followed at his heels shouting like a
Bedlamite. But I could not waste time in pursuit, so I stopped and
taking careful aim, sent another pebble after him, which struck him a
very audible rap on the back of his head, making him run even faster;
and I continued to take shots at him (lest he should irresolutely turn
back) until he took to the wet beach, and was evidently going off for
assistance.
Returning to the canoe, I continued the work of hauling her along, and
managed without much difficulty until I came to the end of the creek,
and laid my lines on the soft, blown sand, when I found it necessary
to lighten her further.
A little more than half the gold was now unshipped, and in this trim I
was able to haul the canoe, foot by foot, across the level sand flat;
but it was slow work, since the lines and rollers had to be
continually shifted forward, and it seemed a long time before the
shore was reached. At last, however, I had the satisfaction of giving
the final push that sent the canoe’s bow clear of the little cliff
where the blown sand was undermined by the wash of the surf, and was
able to set a pair of lines on the hard sand of the beach.
What little tide there is on the West Coast of Africa seemed to be
full, for when the canoe had rolled down a single length of the lines,
her forward half was on the wet sand, and washed by the edge of each
wave that rushed up the steep slope of the beach. Further than this I
could not lower her until she was loaded, as the breaking water would
have lifted her and thrown her broadside on to the shore.
All this time I kept a sharp look-out up and down the beach, but the
solitude was still unbroken save by the solitary figure of my
assailant, which had now dwindled to a mere speck in the distance, and
seemed to be close to the fishing hamlet.
Having removed all the rollers but the middle one (so that the canoe
should not run away down the beach), I made my first journey to the
sand-hills, bringing back with me four bunches of manillas, which I
stowed and tied in their places--for it would be madness to venture
into the surf with this ponderous cargo unsecured. Then I returned for
a fresh load, and as I crossed the flat, noted that my enemy had
disappeared into the village. The transport of this quantity of gold
over so great a distance was a rather formidable task, and could not
be got over quickly. Four bunches of manillas represented about eighty
pounds, and there were some thirty bunches on the sand-hills.
As I toiled over the soft, blown sand with my fourth load I observed
with some alarm, but little surprise, a number of black specks issuing
from the village. My friend was returning with reinforcements.
The village was but a mile distant, and I had yet four more loads to
carry. It looked as if I should have to leave some of my spoil behind,
and as I ran panting to the sand-hills and tottered back, sweating
under my burden, I watched with growing anxiety the increasing size of
the spots of darkness on the yellow beach.
By the time I had stowed the seventh instalment, the spots had clearly
resolved themselves into figures advancing at a rapid run, and I
debated for an instant whether I should not abandon the three bunches
that remained. Only for an instant, however. Greed and reluctance to
leave sixty pounds weight of good yellow gold to these thieving
rascals settled the question, and for the last time I raced across the
loose sand. Catching up the three bunches, I set out for the beach at
a kind of stumbling trot, and as I appeared from behind the
sand-hills, the approaching party saw me, and burst into a shout.
Then followed a mad race for the canoe.
The natives came on, kicking up clouds of sand in their furious haste,
shouting and brandishing long knives; while I, panting and sweating,
with my heart pounding like a steam-hammer, staggered forward jingling
like a team of sleigh-horses.
At last I reached the canoe, and, flinging in the manillas, threw down
the second pair of lines ahead, stood on them that they should not
wash away, and slipping a roller under the forefoot of the canoe,
dragged her on to it. Instantly she began to move forward with such
weight that I could hardly hold her back. But the waves were, for the
moment, small, and barely reached over my ankles; so I slipped another
roller under her stem, and eased her slightly forward.
A glance to seaward showed me a great comber just about to break. A
glance ashore revealed a dozen men, not a hundred yards distant,
racing wildly forward, shouting and flourishing knives and matchets. A
boom from the sea and a yell from the land came simultaneously to my
ears. The wave had broken, and its shattered fragments came driving
forward in a snowy, roaring avalanche, but so slowly, that the men
were almost upon me before I felt it boil up around my feet.
Then I let go, and the canoe rumbled down with gathering momentum, and
as her bow plunged into the foam, I leaped into the well and snatched
up the paddle. With such weight did she fly down the slope, that she
hardly checked when she met the on-rushing flood, but swam clear into
the seething brine, and moved steadily forward. The men were close
behind, and I could hear them splashing into the water as I wildly
plied my paddle.
The water paused in its movement for a few brief seconds, and I waited
to know my fate. Then, with a resounding roar, the great mass swept
back in the undertow, hurling the canoe forward with breathless
velocity. I had just time to pull the apron round me when there came a
crashing shock, a thump on my chest, and a blinding cataract of spray.
She had dived into the recoil wave, and for a moment I thought she had
gone under; but as the water streamed off my face, I saw that her
weight had carried her through the wave.
Breathless as I was, I plied my paddle vigorously to avoid being flung
back on to the beach, and steered cautiously towards the surf.
Another great comber had rolled in, and the pile of foaming water was
sweeping inshore, looking very high and threatening from my position.
I put the canoe straight on to it, and got up what speed I could,
expecting such a sousing as I had just had; but she was now on an even
keel, and her weight was mostly stowed amidships, so when the great
mass of water struck her she merely flung her bows up into the air,
and sent a fountain of spray on either side. I continued to paddle
cautiously forward towards the line of breaking waves until I was as
near as I dared to go; then I waited for the interval that comes
periodically in the surf, and only paddled enough to hold my ground,
whilst the broken water struck me blow after blow, and tended to sweep
me inshore.
At length, as a great wave curled over and burst with a dull
explosion, I looked over the wall of foam, and could see no following
crest.
Now was my time, while the brief lull lasted, and digging the paddle
deep into the water, I charged straight forward at the advancing wall
of foam. As I met it, the canoe nearly stood on end, and the spray
flew up in a cloud, but the ballast prevented me from being thrown
back, and as the bubbling water swept past, I paddled for my life. If
I failed to dodge the surf now I must inevitably be swamped.
As I drew near the main line of the surf, the brief lull came to an
end, and I saw a huge wave sweeping towards me, growing higher as it
approached, like a moving mountain. Onward it came, all in a tremble,
rearing its colossal bulk above me until I could see the sky through
its green crest. Then a spot of white appeared on its summit with a
hissing murmur; the edge began to turn over, and as the canoe soared
upward, the murmur swelled into a roar. In the midst of a blinding
cloud of spray I felt the canoe check and begin to turn, and with the
energy of despair I plied my paddle to keep her head to the sea.
For an instant my fate hung trembling in the balance, but a moment
later the full explosion of the bursting wave boomed from just astern,
and the canoe sank into the rear hollow.
But I was not yet safe, for my bark had been thrown back some
distance, and I dug my paddle viciously into the water as I struggled
to regain my place. Another immense wave came rolling in shorewards,
and as the canoe flew upward with a velocity that took away my breath,
the crest crumbled into foam, and blinded me with a shower of spray.
But it held the canoe only for a moment, and then I slid down the back
of the wave. A dozen more strokes of the paddle carried me out of
immediate peril, for the next wave, though it towered above me in a
most terrifying manner, only whisked me up into the sky, and dropped
me on its farther side, without so much as a sprinkle of spray. I was
safely through the surf, and when I had paddled for yet a few minutes
more, to get a proper offing (for this was a lee shore), I ventured to
look about me, and to see how my late pursuers were faring.
I could only see the beach at intervals, when I was lifted on the
shoreward face or summit of a wave, and when I looked at the place
whence I had put off, my pursuers were nowhere to be seen. It was only
when I turned my gaze westward, towards the village, that I made out a
constellation of black specks on the beach near to it. And then I saw
something else. Another group of moving specks surrounded some larger
object, with which they were moving towards the sea. The villagers
were launching a fishing canoe, and I could have little doubt of their
object.
The pursuit was not over yet.
As soon as I realised this, I lost no time in getting my mast stepped,
and the halyard bent on to the yard, and, having done this, I lowered
the port leeboard and the drop-rudder, and hoisted the sail.
The breeze that was blowing outside here was fresher than that on the
lagoon, and, although the high waves partly becalmed the sail at
times, the sheet pulled sturdily, and I could tell by the pressure of
the tiller that my craft was slipping through the sea at a good pace.
In spite of all her buffeting, she had taken in practically no water,
thanks to the apron, and now she was going perfectly dry, for the big
ocean waves on which she rose and fell were far easier than the quick,
choppy waters of the lagoon.
When she was fairly under sail, I turned the canoe’s head obliquely
out to sea, heading in a south-easterly direction, thus keeping the
wind a little free; and having put her on her course, again turned my
attention to my pursuers. From time to time I could catch a glimpse of
them, and noticed that they looked smaller each time. I saw them
launch their canoe from the beach, and watched its protracted
struggles as it dodged and waited for the dangerous surf. But at last,
after several trials and failures, it shot through, and fairly started
in pursuit.
Meanwhile the afternoon had merged into evening. The cloudy horizon
took on a coppery glow; and I had hardly seen the pursuing canoe head
into my wake before the brief twilight faded, and left the sea in
darkness.