Waiting for high Water.--A Trial.--A new Discovery.--Total
Failure.--Down again.--Overboard.--A Struggle for Life.
Tom's work was thus, at length, accomplished, and it remained now to
get the boat in readiness and wait. Slowly and carefully he raised the
bow by means of the lever, and one by one he withdrew the boards which
held it up. At last the boat lay on the beach, ready to receive the
uplifting arms of the returning tide whenever it should make its
appearance again. Tom saw with satisfaction that the boat was about
three yards down below high-water mark, on the spot to which he had
dragged it after the failure of his last experiment. This, of course,
would be so much in his favor, for it would thus be able to float
before the water should reach its height.
He had worked hard all the afternoon, and it was already dark. The
tide, which had been falling, had some time ago reached its lowest
point, and was now returning. Between him and the lowest point was a
great distance, for the tides here rise to a perpendicular height of
over forty feet; but Tom knew that the time required to traverse the
long space that here intervened between high and low-water mark was
precisely the same as if it had only to rise a few feet.
He was very hungry, but some things had yet to be done. He had to put
on board the boat the articles that he had taken ashore. His matches
were now quite dry, and he put them in his pocket with a deep sense of
their value to him in his present position. His clothes also were dry,
and these he put on. The sail, the coil of rope, and the box of
biscuit were put on board the boat. Tom had still to make his frugal
repast; but this was soon accomplished, and he felt again a sense of
exceeding thankfulness at the possession of the box of biscuit. At
length his evening meal was over, and by the time that he had finished
it, it had grown quite dark. He now went to the boat, and tied up the
sail around the mast. There was nothing to which he could fasten the
boat; but it was not necessary, as he was on the watch. The water
continued smooth, the wind was from the north, as before, and there was
no sign of fog. Overhead the sky was free from clouds, and the stars
twinkled pleasantly to his upturned eyes, as if to encourage him. There
was no moon, however, and though it was not very dark, yet it was
sufficiently so to veil the nearest shores in gloom, and finally to
withdraw them altogether from his view. Still it was not a matter of
necessity that he should see the opposite shores, for he knew that his
chief, and indeed his only reliance must be upon the tide; and this
would bear him in its upward course on the morrow. The night was only
needed to float the boat down as far as low-water mark. The process of
floating her would serve to test the security of the fastenings, and
show whether he could venture to make the attempt.
For hours Tom waited, sometimes seated in the boat, at other times
walking along the beach down to the water. He found it difficult to
keep himself awake, and therefore did not venture to sit down long.
Wearied with his long work through the day, the necessity of constant
exertion wearied him still more, until at length he could scarce draw
his legs after him. But all things have an end, and so it was with
Tom's dreary watch; for at length the waters came up, and touched the
boat, and surrounded it, until at last, to his great joy, Tom found
himself afloat. He seized his stick, and pushed the boat into deeper
water, a few yards off, with the intention of keeping her at about that
distance from the shore.
The one thought that was now in his mind referred exclusively to his
work in the boat. Was it firm? Would it hold? Did it leak? The boat
was floating, certainly. How long would if continue to do so? For a
few minutes he waited anxiously, as he floated there in deep water,
with his eyes fixed on the work in the bow, and his ears listening
intently to detect any sign of that warning, gurgling sound, which had
struck terror to his heart on his last embarkation. But no sign came
of any sound of that sort, and he heard nothing but the gentle dash of
the water against the sides of the boat. Thus about five minutes
passed. At the end of that time, he raised the sail, which he had laid
along the bottom of the boat, and examined underneath it. The first
touch of his fingers at the bottom lessened very largely the hope that
was in him, and at once chased away the feeling of exultation that was
rising. For there, in the bottom of the boat, he felt as much as an
inch of water. After the first shock, he tried to believe that it was
only the water that was in the boat before; and so, taking comfort in
this thought, he waited for further developments, but at the same time
took the dipper, so as to be ready to bale out the water, and have a
struggle for it in case the worst should happen.
Another minute assured him that this was not the water which had been
in the boat before. A new supply was entering, and in the space of
that short time of waiting it had risen to the height of another inch.
Tom felt a sudden pang of dismay, but his stout heart did not quail,
nor did his obstinate resolution falter. Since it was the sea water
that was coming in, he determined to have a fight with it for the
possession of the boat. So he set to work bravely, and began to bale.
He pulled up the sail, so as to have plenty of elbow-room, and worked
away, dipping out the water; but, as he dipped, he perceived that it
was gradually getting deeper. He dipped faster, but without any
visible improvement, indeed, his efforts seemed to have but very little
effect in retarding the entrance of the water. It grew deeper and
deeper. One inch of water soon deepened to two inches, and thence to
three. Soon after four inches were felt.
And now the water came in more rapidly. It seemed to Tom as though it
had been delayed at first, for a little time, in finding an entrance,
but that now, after the entrance was found, it came pouring in with
ever-accelerated speed. Tom struggled on, hoping against hope, and
keeping up his efforts long after they were proved to be useless. But
the water came in faster and faster, until at length Tom began to see
that he must seek his safety in another way. Flinging down his dipper,
then, with a cry of vexation, he started up, and, seizing his bit of
board, he looked around for the shore.
He had been caught by some side current, and had been carried along in
such a way that he was about a hundred yards from the island, and
seemed to be drifting up the bay. The dark, shadowy shores were much
farther away than he had suspected. While struggling to bale out the
boat, he had forgotten how necessary it was to keep near to the shore.
He now saw his mistake, and strove to paddle the boat back again. With
such a clumsy oar it is not likely that he could have achieved his
desire at all, had the flood tide been stronger; but now it was about
at its height, and would soon turn, if it was not turning already. The
current, therefore, was but a weak one, and Tom found himself able to
move slowly back; but his progress was very slow, and working at such a
disadvantage was excessively fatiguing. At last he saw that if he
trusted to paddling he could never reach the shore. In a moment
another idea suggested itself; there was no time to lose, and he at
once acted on it. Darting forward, he loosed the sail. The wind was
still blowing from the north; at once the sail was filled, and,
yielding to this new power, the boat began to move more rapidly. Tom
tied the sheet astern, and, seizing his paddle, tried to scull the
boat. For some minutes he kept up this work, and the boat moved
steadily forward, nearer and still nearer, until the land was at length
not more than thirty or forty yards off.
But by this time the danger had come nearer, and the boat was already
half full of water. Tom began to see that it could not float as far as
the shore. What was he to do? He waited a little longer. He looked
around. The boat was drawing nearer, yet soon it must go down. To
ease it, it would be necessary to relieve it of his own weight. He did
not lose his presence of mind for a moment, but determined at once to
jump overboard. In his perfect coolness he thought of one or two
things which were of importance to him, and performed them swiftly and
promptly. First he took the box of biscuit, and placed it on the heap
of boards and canvas in the bows, so that it might remain as long as
possible out of reach of the water. Then he took the card of matches
out of his waistcoat pocket, and put them in his hat, which he replaced
on his head. To secure thus from damage the two necessaries of food
and fire was but the work of a few seconds. To throw off his coat,
waistcoat, and trousers, and hang them over the top of the short mast,
was the work of a few seconds more. By the time this had been done,
the water was nearly up to the gunwales. In five seconds more the boat
would have gone down; but, so well had Tom's work been done, and so
promptly, that these five seconds were saved. Having done what he
wished, he let himself down into the water; and, holding on by the
stern of the boat, he allowed himself to float after it, kicking out at
the same time, so as to assist, rather than retard, its progress.
By this time the land was not more than twenty yards away. The boat
did not sink so rapidly now, but kept afloat much better; still the
water rose to a level with the gunwales, and Tom was too much rejoiced
to find that it kept afloat at all to find fault with this. The wind
still blew, and the sail was still up; so that the water-logged vessel
went on at a very respectable rate, until at length half the distance
which Tom had noticed on going overboard was traversed. The boat
seemed to float now, though full of water, and Tom saw that his
precious biscuit, at any rate, would not be very much harmed. Nearer
and nearer now he came until at last, letting himself down, his feet
touched bottom. A cry of delight escaped him; and now, bracing himself
firmly against the solid land below, he urged the boat on faster, until
at length her deep-sunk bows grated against the gravel of the beach.
He hurried up to the box of biscuit, and put this ashore in a safe
place; after which he secured the boat to a jagged rock on the bank.
He found now that he had come to a different part of the beach
altogether, for his boat was lying at the spot where the little brook
ran into the sea. Well was it for him, in that rash and hazardous
experiment, that he had floated off before the tide was high. It had
led to his drifting up the bay, instead of down, and by a weak current,
instead of a strong one. The wind had thus brought him back. Had it
been full tide, he would have drifted out from the shore, and then have
been carried down the bay by the falling water to swift and sure
destruction.
Tom now took off his wet shirt, and put on the dry clothes which he had
so prudently hung on the top of the mast. He perceived that he had not
a very pleasant lookout for the night, for the sail which he had
formerly used to envelop himself with was now completely saturated. It
was also too dark to go to the woods in search of ferns or mosses on
which to sleep. However, the night was a pleasant one, and the grass
around would not be so bad a resting-place as he had been forced to use
while drifting in the boat. He had now become accustomed to hardship
by bitter experience, and so he looked forward to the night without
care.
The day had been an eventful one, indeed, for him, and his last
adventure had been full of peril, from which he had been most
wonderfully rescued.
These thoughts were in his mind, and he did not fail to offer up
prayers of heartfelt gratitude to that good and merciful Being who had
thus far so wonderfully preserved him. With such feelings in his
heart, he sought out a sleeping-place, and after some search he found a
mossy knoll. Seating himself here, he reclined his back against it,
and in a few minutes the worn-out boy was buried in a deep sleep.
He slept until late on the following day, and on waking looked around
to see if there were any sails in view. None were visible. The tide
was about half way up, and the wide waters spread before him without
any vessel in sight. He then began his preparations for the day. He
hung his shirt upon a bush, and spread out the wet sail on the grass.
An examination of the biscuit showed him that they had scarcely been
injured at all, the water having penetrated only the lower part of the
box. He removed the lower layer of biscuit, and spread them out on a
rock in the sun to dry. After this he breakfasted, and wandered about
for a time. He then took a swim, and felt much refreshed. By the time
that his swim was over, he found that the hot sun had dried his shirt,
so that he could once more assume that very important article of
clothing.
The sun climbed high towards the zenith, and the tide came up higher,
as Tom sat there alone on his desert island, looking out upon the sea.
The boat from which he had hoped so much had proved false to those
hopes, and all the labors of the previous day had proved useless. His
attempt to escape had nearly resulted in his destruction. He had
learned from that experiment that no efforts of his could now effect
his rescue. He had done the very best he could, and it would not be
possible for him, with his present resources, to contrive anything
better than that which had so miserably failed. If he could only
procure some tar, he might then stop up the interstices; but as it was,
nothing of his construction would avail to keep back the treacherous
entrance of the water. It seemed now to him that his stay on the
island was destined to be prolonged to a much greater extent than he
had first thought of, and there did not seem any longer a hope of
saving himself by his own exertions.
Alone on a desert island!
It was a dreadful fact which now forced itself more and more upon Tom's
mind, until at length he could think of nothing else. Hitherto he had
fought off the idea whenever it presented itself, and so long as he had
been able to indulge in any hope of freeing himself by his own
exertions, he prevented himself from sinking into the gloom of utter
despair. But now he could no longer save himself from that gloom, and
the thought grew darker and drearier before him--the one fact of his
present situation.
Alone on a desert island!
A very interesting thing to read about, no doubt; and Tom, like all
boys, had revelled in the portrayals of such a situation which he had
encountered in his reading. No one had entered with more zest than he
into the pages of Robinson Crusoe, and no one had enjoyed more than he
the talks which boys love to have about their possible doings under
such circumstances. But now, to be here, and find himself in such a
place,--to be brought face to face with the hard, stern, dismal
fact,--was another thing altogether. What oppressed him most was not
the hardships of his position. These he could have withstood if there
had been nothing worse. The worst part of his present life was its
solitude. If Bart had been here with him, or Bruce, or Arthur, or
Phil, or Pat, how different it would have been! Even old Solomon would
have enabled him to pass the time contentedly. But to be alone,--all
alone,--without a soul to speak to,--that was terrible.
Tom soon found that the very way to deepen his misery was to sit still
and brood over it. He was not inclined to give way to trouble. It has
already been seen that he was a boy of obstinate courage, resolute
will, and invincible determination. He was capable of struggling to
the last against any adversity; and even if he had to lose, he knew how
to lose without sinking into complete despair. These moods of
depression, or even of despair, which now and then did come, were not
permanent. In time he shook them off, and looked about for some new
way of carrying on the struggle with evil fortune.
So now he shook off this fit of depression, and starting up he
determined not to sit idle any longer.
"I won't stand it," he muttered. "There's lots of things to be seen,
and to be done. And first of all I've got to explore this island.
Come, Tom, my boy; cheer up, old fellow. You've pretended to admire
Robinson Crusoe; act up to your profession. And first of all, my boy,
you've got to explore Juan Fernandez."
The sound of his own voice had the effect of encouraging and
inspiriting him, while the purpose which he thus assigned to himself
was sufficient to awaken his prostrated energies. There was something
in the plan which roused all his curiosity, and turned his thoughts and
feelings into a totally new direction. No sooner, then, had this
thought occurred to him, than he at once set out to put it into
execution.
First of all he took one parting look at the scene around him. The sun
had now passed its meridian, and it seemed to be one o'clock or after.
The tide was high. The boat, which had at first floated, was now
nearly full of water. Tom threw a melancholy glance at this fresh
proof of the utter futility of all his labor, and then examined the
fastenings, so that it might not drift away during his absence. Then
he searched among the drift-wood until he found a stout stick to assist
him in climbing, and to serve as a companion in his walk, after which
he started.
The sun was bright, but over the sky some clouds were gathering, and
the opposite shores seemed to have grown darker than they were a few
hours ago, having assumed a hue like olive green. The wind had also
died away, and the water was as smooth as glass.