An awful storm and its consequences--Narrow escape--A rock proves a sure
foundation--A fearful night and a bright morning--Deliverance from
danger.
It was evening before we left the island of the penguins. As we had made
up our minds to encamp for the night on a small island, whereon grew a
few cocoa-nut trees, which was about two miles off, we lay to our oars
with some energy. But a danger was in store for us which we had not
anticipated. The wind, which had carried us so quickly to Penguin
Island, freshened as evening drew on, to a stiff breeze, and, before we
had made half the distance to the small island, it became a regular gale.
Although it was not so directly against us as to prevent our rowing in
the course we wished to go, yet it checked us very much; and although the
force of the sea was somewhat broken by the island, the waves soon began
to rise, and to roll their broken crests against our small craft, so that
she began to take in water, and we had much ado to keep ourselves afloat.
At last the wind and sea together became so violent that we found it
impossible to make the island, so Jack suddenly put the head of the boat
round and ordered Peterkin and me to hoist a corner of the sail,
intending to run back to Penguin Island.
"We shall at least have the shelter of the bushes," he said, as the boat
flew before the wind, "and the penguins will keep us company."
As Jack spoke, the wind suddenly shifted, and blew so much against us
that we were forced to hoist more of the sail in order to beat up for the
island, being by this change thrown much to leeward of it. What made
matters worse was, that the gale came in squalls, so that we were more
than once nearly upset.
"Stand by, both of you," cried Jack, in a quick, earnest tone; "be ready
to dowse the sail. I very much fear we won't make the island after all."
Peterkin and I were so much in the habit of trusting everything to Jack
that we had fallen into the way of not considering things, especially
such things as were under Jack's care. We had, therefore, never doubted
for a moment that all was going well, so that it was with no little
anxiety that we heard him make the above remark. However, we had no time
for question or surmise, for, at the moment he spoke, a heavy squall was
bearing down upon us, and, as we were then flying with our lee gunwale
dipping occasionally under the waves, it was evident that we should have
to lower our sail altogether. In a few seconds the squall struck the
boat, but Peterkin and I had the sail down in a moment, so that it did
not upset us; but, when it was past, we were more than half full of
water. This I soon baled out, while Peterkin again hoisted a corner of
the sail; but the evil which Jack had feared came upon us. We found it
quite impossible to make Penguin Island. The gale carried us quickly
past it towards the open sea, and the terrible truth flashed upon us that
we should be swept out and left to perish miserably in a small boat in
the midst of the wide ocean.
This idea was forced very strongly upon us because we saw nothing in the
direction whither the wind was blowing us save the raging billows of the
sea; and, indeed, we trembled as we gazed around us, for we were now
beyond the shelter of the islands, and it seemed as though any of the
huge billows, which curled over in masses of foam, might swallow us up in
a moment. The water, also, began to wash in over our sides, and I had to
keep constantly baling, for Jack could not quit the helm nor Peterkin the
sail for an instant, without endangering our lives. In the midst of this
distress Jack uttered an exclamation of hope, and pointed towards a low
island or rock which lay directly ahead. It had been hitherto
unobserved, owing to the dark clouds that obscured the sky and the
blinding spray that seemed to fill the whole atmosphere.
As we neared this rock we observed that it was quite destitute of trees
and verdure, and so low that the sea broke completely over it. In fact
it was nothing more than the summit of one of the coral formations, which
rose only a few feet above the level of the water, and was, in stormy
weather, all but invisible. Over this island the waves were breaking in
the utmost fury, and our hearts sank within us as we saw that there was
not a spot where we could thrust our little boat without its being dashed
to pieces.
"Show a little bit more sail," cried Jack, as we swept past the weather
side of the rock with fearful speed.
"Ay, ay," answered Peterkin, hoisting about a foot more of our sail.
Little though the addition was it caused the boat to lie over and creak
so loudly, as we cleft the foaming waves, that I expected to be upset
every instant; and I blamed Jack in my heart for his rashness. But I did
him injustice, for, although during two seconds the water rushed in-board
in a torrent, he succeeded in steering us sharply round to the leeward
side of the rock, where the water was comparatively calm, and the force
of the breeze broken.
"Out your oars now, lads; that's well done. Give way!" We obeyed
instantly. The oars splashed into the waves together. One good hearty
pull, and we were floating in a comparatively calm creek that was so
narrow as to be barely able to admit our boat. Here we were in perfect
safety, and, as we leaped on shore and fastened our cable to the rocks, I
thanked God in my heart for our deliverance from so great danger. But,
although I have said we were now in safety, I suspect that few of my
readers would have envied our position. It is true we had no lack of
food, but we were drenched to the skin; the sea was foaming round us and
the spray flying over our heads, so that we were completely enveloped, as
it were, in water; the spot on which we had landed was not more than
twelve yards in diameter, and from this spot we could not move without
the risk of being swept away by the storm. At the upper end of the creek
was a small hollow or cave in the rock, which sheltered us from the fury
of the winds and waves; and as the rock extended in a sort of ledge over
our heads, it prevented the spray from falling upon us.
"Why," said Peterkin, beginning to feel cheery again, "it seems to me
that we have got into a mermaid's cave, for there is nothing but water
all round us; and as for earth or sky, they are things of the past."
Peterkin's idea was not inappropriate, for, what with the sea roaring in
white foam up to our very feet, and the spray flying in white sheets
continually over our heads, and the water dripping heavily from the ledge
above like a curtain in front of our cave, it did seem to us very much
more like being below than above water.
"Now, boys," cried Jack, "bestir yourselves, and let's make ourselves
comfortable. Toss out our provisions, Peterkin; and here, Ralph, lend a
hand to haul up the boat. Look sharp."
"Ay, ay, captain," we cried, as we hastened to obey, much cheered by the
hearty manner of our comrade.
Fortunately the cave, although not very deep, was quite dry, so that we
succeeded in making ourselves much more comfortable than could have been
expected. We landed our provisions, wrung the water out of our garments,
spread our sail below us for a carpet, and, after having eaten a hearty
meal, began to feel quite cheerful. But as night drew on, our spirits
sank again, for with the daylight all evidence of our security vanished
away. We could no longer see the firm rock on which we lay, while we
were stunned with the violence of the tempest that raged around us. The
night grew pitchy dark, as it advanced, so that we could not see our
hands when we held them up before our eyes, and were obliged to feel each
other occasionally to make sure that we were safe, for the storm at last
became so terrible that it was difficult to make our voices audible. A
slight variation of the wind, as we supposed, caused a few drops of spray
ever and anon to blow into our faces; and the eddy of the sea, in its mad
boiling, washed up into our little creek until it reached our feet and
threatened to tear away our boat. In order to prevent this latter
calamity, we hauled the boat farther up and held the cable in our hands.
Occasional flashes of lightning shone with a ghastly glare through the
watery curtains around us, and lent additional horror to the scene. Yet
we longed for those dismal flashes, for they were less appalling than the
thick blackness that succeeded them. Crashing peals of thunder seemed to
tear the skies in twain, and fell upon our ears through the wild yelling
of the hurricane as if it had been but a gentle summer breeze; while the
billows burst upon the weather side of the island until we fancied that
the solid rock was giving way, and, in our agony, we clung to the bare
ground, expecting every moment to be whirled away and whelmed in the
black howling sea! Oh! it was a night of terrible anxiety, and no one
can conceive the feelings of intense gratitude and relief with which we
at last saw the dawn of day break through the vapory mists around us.
For three days and three nights we remained on this rock, while the storm
continued to rage with unabated fury. On the morning of the fourth day
it suddenly ceased, and the wind fell altogether; but the waves still ran
so high that we did not dare to put off in our boat. During the greater
part of this period we scarcely slept above a few minutes at a time, but
on the third night we slept soundly and awoke early on the fourth morning
to find the sea very much down, and the sun shining brightly again in the
clear blue sky.
It was with light hearts that we launched forth once more in our little
boat and steered away for our island home, which, we were overjoyed to
find, was quite visible on the horizon, for we had feared that we had
been blown out of sight of it altogether. As it was a dead calm we had
to row during the greater part of the day; but towards the afternoon a
fair breeze sprang up, which enabled us to hoist our sail. We soon
passed Penguin Island, and the other island which we had failed to reach
on the day the storm commenced; but as we had still enough of provisions,
and were anxious to get home, we did not land, to the great
disappointment of Peterkin, who seemed to entertain quite an affection
for the penguins.
Although the breeze was pretty fresh for several hours, we did not reach
the outer reef of our island till night-fall, and before we had sailed
more than a hundred yards into the lagoon, the wind died away altogether,
so that we had to take to our oars again. It was late and the moon and
stars were shining brightly when we arrived opposite the bower and leaped
upon the strand. So glad were we to be safe back again on our beloved
island, that we scarcely took time to drag the boat a short way up the
beach, and then ran up to see that all was right at the bower. I must
confess, however, that my joy was mingled with a vague sort of fear lest
our home had been visited and destroyed during our absence; but on
reaching it we found everything just as it had been left, and the poor
black cat curled up, sound asleep, on the coral table in front of our
humble dwelling.