SINKING IN DEEP WATERS.
Brandon, overwhelmed by the rush of waters, half suffocated, and
struggling in the rush of the waves, shrieked out a few despairing cries
for help, and sought to keep his head above water as best he could.
But his cries were borne off by the fierce winds, and the ship as it
careered madly before the blast was soon out of hearing.
He was a first-rate swimmer, but in a sea like this it needed all
his strength and all his skill to save himself from impending death.
Encumbered by his clothes it was still more difficult, yet so fierce
was the rush of wind and wave that he dared not stop for a moment in his
struggles in order to divest himself of his clothing.
At first, by a mere blind instinct, he tried to swim after the ship,
as though by any possibility he could ever reach her again, but the
hurricane was against him, and he was forced sideways far out of the
course which he was trying to take. At last the full possession of his
senses was restored, and following the ship no longer, he turned toward
the direction where that sand island lay which had been the cause of his
disaster. At first it was hidden from view by the swell of waves
that rose in front, but soon rising upon the crest of one of these he
perceived far away the dark form of the coffin-shaped rock. Here then
before him lay the island, and toward this both wind and wave impelled
him.
But the rock was far to the right, and it might be that the island did
not extend far enough to meet him as he neared it. It was about five
miles in length, but in his efforts he might not be able to reach even
the western extremity. Still there was nothing else to do but to try.
Resolutely, therefore, though half despairingly, he put forth his best
strength, and struggled manfully to win the shore.
That lone and barren sand-bank, after all, offered but a feeble chance
for life. Even if he did reach it, which was doubtful, what could he
do? Starvation instead of drowning would be his fate. More than once it
occurred to him that it would be better then and there to give up all
efforts and let himself go. But then there came the thought of those
dear ones who waited for him in England, the thought of the villain who
had thrown him from the ship, and the greater villain who had sent him
out on his murderous errand. He could not bear the idea that they should
triumph over him so easily and so quickly. His vengeance should not be
taken from him; it had been baffled, but it still nerved his arm.
A half hour’s struggle, which seemed like many hours, had brought him
much nearer to the island, but his strength was almost exhausted. His
clothes, caught in the rush of the waves, and clinging to him, confined
the free action of his limbs, and lent an additional weight. Another
half hour’s exertion might possibly bring him to the shore, but that
exertion hardly seemed possible. It was but with difficulty now that
he could strike out. Often the rush of the waves from behind would
overwhelm him, and it was only by convulsive efforts that he was able to
surmount the raging billows and regain his breath.
Efforts like these, however, were too exhaustive to be long continued.
Nature failed, and already a wild despair came over him. For a quarter
of an hour longer he had continued his exertions; and now the island was
so near that a quarter of an hour more might bring him to it. But
even that exertion of strength was now no longer possible. Faintly and
feebly, and with failing limbs and fiercely-throbbing heart, he toiled
on, until at last any further effort seemed impossible. Before him was
the mound which he had noticed from the ship. He was at the western
extremity of the island. He saw that he was being carried in such a
direction that even if he did struggle on he might be borne helplessly
past the island and out into the open sea. Already he could look past
the island, and see the wide expanse of white foaming waves which
threatened to engulf him. The sight weakened what little strength was
left, and made his efforts even feebler.
Despairingly he looked around, not knowing what he sought, but seeking
still for something, he knew not what. In that last look of despair his
eyes caught sight of something which at once gave him renewed hope.
It was not far away. Borne along by the waves it was but a few yards
distant, and a little behind him. It was the hen-coop which the Captain
of the _Java_ had thrown overboard so as to give Brandon a chance for
life. That last chance was now thrown in his way, for the hen-coop had
followed the same course with himself, and had been swept along not very
far from him.
Brandon was nerved to new efforts by the sight of this. He turned and
exerted the last remnants of his strength in order to reach this means
of safety. It was near enough to be accessible. A few vigorous strokes,
a few struggles with the waves, and his hands clutched the bars with the
grasp of a drowning man.
It was a large hen-coop, capable of keeping several men afloat. Brandon
clung to this and at last had rest. Every minute of respite from such
struggles as he had carried on restored his strength to a greater
degree. He could now keep his head high out of the water and avoid the
engulfing fury of the waves behind. Now at last he could take a better
survey of the prospect before him, and see more plainly whither he was
going.
The sand-bank lay before him; the mount at the western extremity was in
front of him, not very far away. The rock which lay at the eastern
end was now at a great distance, for he had been swept by the current
abreast of the island, and was even now in danger of being carried past
it. Still there was hope, for wind and wave were blowing directly toward
the island, and there was a chance of his being carried full upon its
shore. Yet the chance was a slender one, for the set of the tide carried
him beyond the line of the western extremity.
Every minute brought him nearer, and soon his fate would be decided.
Nearer and nearer he came, still clinging to the hen-coop, and making
no efforts whatever, but reserving and collecting together all his
strength, so as to put it forth at the final hour of need.
But as he came nearer the island appeared to move more and more out of
the line of his approach. Under these circumstances his only chance was
to float as near as possible, and then make a last effort to reach the
land.
Nearer and nearer he came. At last he was close by it, but the extreme
point of the island lay to the right more than twenty yards. This was
the crisis of his fate, for now if he floated on any longer he would be
carried farther away.
The shore was here low but steep, the waters appeared to be deep, and a
heavy surf dashed upon the island, and threw up its spray far over
the mound. He was so near that he could distinguish the pebbles on the
beach, and could see beyond the mound a long, flat surface with thin
grass growing.
Beyond this point was another a hundred yards away, but farther out of
his reach, and affording no hope whatever. Between the two points there
was an inlet into the island showing a little cove; but the surf just
here became wilder, and long rollers careered one past another over
the intervening space. It was a hopeless prospect. Yet it was his last
chance.
Brandon made up his mind. He let go the hen-coop, and summoning up all
his strength he struck out for the shore. But this time the wind and sea
were against him, bearing him past the point, and the waves dashed over
him more quickly and furiously than before. He was swept past the
point before he had made half a dozen strokes; he was borne on still
struggling; and now on his left lay the rollers which he had seen. In
spite of all his efforts he was farther away from the island than when
he had left the hen-coop. Yet all hope and all life depended on the
issue of this last effort. The fifteen or twenty minutes of rest and of
breathing-space which he had gained had been of immense advantage, and
he struggled with all the force which could be inspired by the nearness
of safety. Yet, after all, human efforts can not withstand the fury of
the elements, and here against this strong sea the strongest swimmer
could not hope to contend successfully.
“Never I ween was swimmer
In such an evil case.”
He swam toward the shore, but the wind striking him from one side, and
urging on the sea, drove him sideways. Some progress was made, but
the force of the waters was fearful, and for every foot that he moved
forward he was carried six feet to leeward. He himself saw this, and
calculating his chances he perceived with despair that he was already
beyond the first point, and that at the present rate there was no
possibility of gaining the farther point.
Already the waves leaped exultingly about him, dashing over him now
more wildly, since he was exposed more than before to their full sweep.
Already the rollers lay close beside him on his left. Then it seemed as
though he would be engulfed. Turning his head backward with a last
faint thought of trying to regain the hen-coop, so as to prolong life
somewhat, he saw it far away out of his reach. Then all hope left him.
He was now at the outermost line of rollers. At the moment that he
turned his head a huge wave raised him up and bore him forward. He
struggled still, even in that time of despair, and fought with his
enemies. They bore him onward, however, none the less helplessly, and
descending carried him with them.
But now at last, as he descended with that wave, hope came back, and all
his despair vanished.
For as the wave flung him downward his feet touched bottom, and he stood
for a moment erect, on solid, hard sand, in water that scarcely reached
above his knees. It was for a moment only that he stood, however, for
the sweep of the water bore him down, and he fell forward. Before he
could regain himself another wave came and hurled him farther forward.
By a violent effort he staggered to his feet. In an instant he
comprehended his position. At this western end the island descended
gently into the water, and the shoal which it formed extended for miles
away. It was this shoal that caused the long rollers that came over them
so vehemently, and in such marked contrast with the more abrupt waves of
the sea behind.
In an instant he had comprehended this, and had taken his course of
action.
Now he had foothold. Now the ground beneath lent its aid to his
endeavor; he was no longer altogether at the mercy of the water. He
bounded forward toward the shore in such a direction that he could
approach it without opposing himself entirely to the waves. The point
that stretched out was now within his reach. The waves rolled past it,
but by moving in an oblique direction he could gain it.
[Illustration: “HE STAGGERED UP A FEW PACES UPON THE SANDY DECLIVITY.”]
Again and again the high rollers came forward, hurling him up as they
caught him in their embrace, and then casting him down again. As he was
caught up from the bottom he sustained himself on the moving mass, and
supported himself on the crest of the wave, but as soon as his feet
touched bottom again he sprang forward toward the point which now
became every minute more accessible. Wave after wave came, each was more
furious, each more ravenous than the preceding, as though hounding one
another on to make sure of their prey. But now that the hope of life
was strong, and safety had grown almost assured, the deathlike weakness
which but shortly before had assailed him gave way to new-born strength
and unconquerable resolve.
At length he reached a place where the rollers were of less dimensions.
His progress became more rapid, until at length the water became
exceedingly shallow, being not more than a foot in depth. Here the first
point, where the mound was, protected it from the wind and sea. This was
the cove which he had noticed. The water was all white with foam, but
offered scarcely any resistance to him. He had but to wade onward to the
shore.
That shore was at last attained. He staggered up a few paces upon the
sandy declivity, and then fell down exhausted upon the ground.
He could not move. It was late; night came on, but he lay where he had
fallen, until at last he fell into a sound sleep.