ALONE ON THE LIFE RAFT.
Anything less buoyant than a modern life raft, consisting of two steel
cylinders stoutly braced and connected by a wooden platform, would have
been drawn under by the deadly clutch of that swirling vortex. No open
boat could have lived in it for a minute; and even the raft, spinning
round and round with dizzy velocity, was sucked downward until it was
actually below the level of the surrounding water. But, sturdily
resisting the down-dragging force, its wonderful buoyancy finally
triumphed, and as its rotary motion became less rapid, Cabot sat up and
gazed about him with the air of one who has been stunned.
He was dazed by the awfulness of the catastrophe that had so suddenly
overwhelmed the "Lavinia," and could form no idea of its nature. Had
there been a collision? If so, it must have been with the iceberg, for
nothing else had been in sight when he went below. Yet it was
incredible that such a thing could have happened in broad daylight.
The afternoon had been clear and bright; of that he was certain, though
his surroundings were now shrouded by an impenetrable veil of fog.
Through this he could see nothing, and from it came no sound save the
moan of winds sweeping across a limitless void of waters.
What had become of his recent companions? Had they gone down with the
ship, and was he sole survivor of the tragedy? At this thought the lad
sprang to his feet, and shouted, calling his friends by name, and
begging them not to leave him; but the only answer came in shape of
mocking echoes hurled sharply back from close at hand. Looking in that
direction, he dimly discerned a vast outline of darker substance than
the enveloping mist. From it came also a sound of falling waters, and
against it the sea was beating angrily. At the same time he was
conscious of a deadly chill in the air, and came to a sudden
comprehension that the iceberg, to which he attributed all his present
distress, was still close at hand.
Its mere presence brought a new terror; for he knew that unless the
attraction of its great bulk could be overcome, his little raft must
speedily be drawn to it and dashed helplessly against its icy cliffs.
This thought filled him with a momentary despair, for there seemed no
possibility of avoiding the impending fate. Then his eyes fell on a
pair of oars lashed, together with their metal rowlocks, to the sides
of his raft. In another minute he had shipped these and was pulling
with all his might away from that ill-omened neighbourhood.
The progress of his clumsy craft was painfully slow; but it did move,
and at the end the dreaded ice monster was beyond both sight and
hearing. The exercise of rowing had warmed Cabot as well as
temporarily diverted his mind from a contemplation of the terrible
scenes through which he had so recently passed. Now, however, as he
rested on his oars, a full sense of his wretched plight came back to
him, and he grew sick at heart as he realised how forlorn was his
situation. He wondered if he could survive the night that was rapidly
closing in on him, and, if he did, whether the morrow would find him
any better off. He had no idea of the direction in which wind and
current were drifting him, whether further out to sea or towards the
land. He was again shivering with cold, he was hungry and thirsty, and
so filled with terror at the black waters leaping towards him from all
sides that he finally flung himself face downward on the wet platform
to escape from seeing them.
When he next lifted his head he found himself in utter darkness,
through which he fancied he could still hear the sound of waters
dashing against frigid cliffs, and with an access of terror he once
more sprang to his oars. Now he rowed with the wind, keeping it as
directly astern as possible; nor did he pause in his efforts until
compelled by exhaustion. Then he again lay down, and this time dropped
into a fitful doze.
Waking a little later with chattering teeth, he resumed his oars for
the sake of warming exercise, and again rowed as long as he was able.
So, with alternating periods of weary work and unrefreshing rest, the
slow dragging hours of that interminable night were spent. Finally,
after he had given up all hope of ever again seeing a gleam of
sunshine, a faint gray began to permeate the fog that still held him in
its wet embrace, and Cabot knew that he had lived to see the beginnings
of another day.
To make sure that the almost imperceptible light really marked the
dawn, he shut his eyes and resolutely kept them closed until he had
counted five hundred. Then he opened them, and almost screamed with
the joy of being able to trace the outlines of his raft. Again and
again he did this until at length the black night shadows had been
fairly vanquished and only those of the fog remained.
With the assurance that day had fairly come, and that the dreaded
iceberg was at least not close at hand, Cabot again sought
forgetfulness of his misery in sleep. When he awoke some hours later,
aching in every bone, and painfully hungry, he was also filled with a
delicious sense of warmth; for the sun, already near its meridian, was
shining as brightly as though no such things as fog or darkness had
ever existed.
On standing up and looking about him, the young castaway was relieved
to note that the iceberg from which he had suffered so much was no
longer in sight. At the same time he was grievously disappointed that
he could discover no sail nor other token that any human being save
himself was abroad on all that lonely sea.
He experienced a momentary exhilaration when, on turning to the west,
he discovered a dark far-reaching line that he believed to be land; but
his spirits fell as he measured the distance separating him from it,
and realised how slight a chance he had of ever gaining the coast. To
be sure, the light breeze then blowing was in that direction, but it
might change at any moment; and even with it to aid his rowing he
doubted if his clumsy craft could make more than a mile an hour. Thus
darkness would again overtake him ere he had covered more than half the
required distance, though he should row steadily during the remainder
of the day. He knew that his growing weakness would demand intervals
of rest with ever-increasing frequency until utter exhaustion should
put an end to his efforts; and then what would become of him? Still
there was nothing else to be done; and, with a dogged determination to
die fighting, if die he must, the poor lad sat down and resumed his
hopeless task.
A life raft is not intended to be used as a rowboat, and is unprovided
with either seats or foot braces. Being thus compelled to sit on the
platform, Cabot could get so little purchase that half his effort was
wasted, and the progress made was barely noticeable. During his
frequent pauses for rest he stood up to gaze longingly at the goal that
still appeared as far away as ever, and grew more unattainable as the
day wore on. At length the sun was well down the western sky, across
which it appeared to race as never before. As Cabot watched it, and
vaguely wished for the power once given to Joshua, the bleakness of
despair suddenly enfolded him, and his eyes became blurred with tears.
He covered them with his hands to shut out the mocking sunlight, and
sat down because he was too weak to stand any longer. He had fought
his fight very nearly to a finish, and his strength was almost gone.
He had perhaps brought his craft five miles nearer to the land than it
was when he set out; but after all what had been the gain? Apparently
there was none, and he would not further torture his aching body with
useless effort.
In the meantime a small schooner, bringing with her a fair wind, was
running rapidly down the coast, not many miles from where our poor lad
so despairingly awaited the coming of night. That he had not seen her
while standing up, was owing to the fact that her sails, instead of
being white, were tanned a dull red, that blended perfectly with the
colour of the distant shore line. A bright-faced, resolute chap,
somewhat younger than Cabot, but of equally sturdy build, held the
tiller, and regarded with evident approval the behaviour of his
speeding craft.
"We'll make it, Dave," he cried, cheerily. "The old 'Sea Bee's' got
the wings of 'em this time."
"Mebbe so," growled the individual addressed, an elderly man who stood
in the companionway, with his head just above the hatch, peering
forward under the swelling sails. "Mebbe so," he repeated, "and mebbe
not. Steam's hard to beat on land or water, an' we be a far cry from
Pretty Harbour yet. So fur that ef they're started they'll overhaul us
before day, and beat us in by a good twelve hour. It's what I'm
looking fur."
"Oh, pshaw!" replied the young skipper. "What a gammy old croaker you
are. They won't start to-day, anyhow. But here, take her a minute,
while I go aloft for one more look before sundown to make sure."
As the man complied with this request, and waddling aft took the
tiller, his more active companion sprang into the main rigging and ran
rapidly to the masthead, from which point of vantage he gazed back for
a full minute over the course they had come.
"Not a sign," he shouted down at length. "But hello," he added to
himself, "what's that?" With a glance seaward his keen eye had
detected a distant floating object that was momentarily uplifted on the
back of a long swell, and flashed white in the rays of the setting sun.
"Luff her, David! Hard down with your hellum, and trim in all," he
shouted to the steersman. "There, steady, so."
"Wot's hup?" inquired the man a few minutes later, as the other
rejoined him on deck.
"Don't know for sure; but there's something floating off there that
looks like a bit of wreckage."
"An' you, with all your hurry, going to stop fur a closer look, and
lose time that'll mebbe prove the most wallyable of your life," growled
the man disgustedly. "Wal, I'll be jiggered!"
"So would I, if I didn't," replied the lad. "It was one of dad's rules
never to pass any kind of a wreck without at least one good look at it,
and so it's one of mine as well. There's what I'm after, now. See,
just off the starboard bow. It's a raft, and David, there's a man on
it, sure as you live. Look, he's standing up and waving at us. Now,
he's down again! Poor fellow! In with the jib, David! Spry now, and
stand by with a line. I'm going to round up, right alongside."