LANDED
Dave must have gone through a fearful experience during the next hour.
Its details he never knew. Familiar with the chances and accidents of
the seafaring situation from childhood, however, when he opened his eyes
again he could figure out how kind his natural element had been to him.
He lay on a sandy shore. When his senses first came back a positive
thrill permeated his frame.
A joyful cry arose to his lips. It was irrepressible. He was bruised,
battered, soaked through, but the realization that he had landed, that
he once more rested on firm hard soil, overcame every sensation of
discomfort and pain.
"Landed," murmured Dave, in great delight, and that was the only idea he
could take into his confused mind for the moment.
He opened his eyes. It was clear starlight. He lay on a sandy beach.
The waves lapped him to the knees. Beside him was the yawl, stove in at
one side. He was still attached to it by the wrist held firmly in the
rope loop.
The yawl had proved a loyal convoy. As the tempest swept it along, Dave
must have been held at least a part of the time out of the water. This
had saved his life. Perhaps, he thought, he might at times also have
lain across the upturned keel of the yawl.
At all events he was saved. There was not a bone in his body that did
not ache. His wrist was swollen greatly and the arm was numb to the
shoulder.
"I'm badly battered," reflected Dave. "I must get my arm loose some
way."
The youth groped in his pocket with his free hand. It was a laborious
task getting into the soaked garment. When he got his pocket knife out,
Dave had to open it with his teeth.
He managed to cut the rope that imprisoned him, and fell away from the
yawl with a feeling of great relief. Then he lay on the ground flat on
his back, and for some moments tried to think of nothing but absolute
rest and comfort.
Dave struggled to an upright position finally. He was amazed at his
weakness and helplessness. Twice his feet refused to hold him up, and
he fell down. His injured arm was perfectly numb and flabby at his
side.
"This won't do at all," he thought, arousing himself. "I'm awful
thirsty, too. Well, I may be able to crawl."
Dave attempted to go up the beach. About a hundred feet away, through
breaks in a belt of green trees, he could catch the sparkle of water
running over the rocks.
The moon had come up during all these various efforts to get into
action. Dave could see his way clearly. He made in the direction of
the water.
After slowly and painfully progressing for perhaps a hundred feet Dave
found that his blood had begun to circulate. He pulled himself to his
feet by means of some high bushes he had reached by this time.
Each moment his control increased over the numbed joints and muscles.
"This is better," said he, with satisfaction, as after some stumbling
steps, with the aid of a dead tree branch, he was able to limp upright
though slowly.
Dave reached the water, a mere rill gushing down the shore bluff over
some rocks. It was clear and sparkling, and he took a deep draught of
the life-giving element that invigorated him greatly.
"Hungry," thought Dave next. "Thanks to Stoodles--good!"
Right at his side Dave discovered a bush full of pods. When on the
Windjammers' Island with Stoodles, the latter had shown him this very
bush. Upon it grew pods full of kernels that tasted like cocoa. Dave
ate plentifully, though it was not a very satisfying meal.
"Now then," he spoke. "Oh, how could I have forgotten them!" he cried
with sudden self-reproachfulness.
It was quite natural in his forlorn, confused condition that Dave should
first of all have thought only of himself. Still, his deep anxiety,
poignantly aroused now as he thought of Daley and the others who had
been in the yawl with him, showed his heart to be in the right place.
He hurried down to the beach again, in his solicitude for his late
companions forgetting how crippled he was, and had several falls.
"It's no use," said Dave sadly, after over an hour's search along the
lonely shore. "They must have perished, Daley and the others."
The conviction saddened the youth for a long time. He sat down thinking
over things for nearly an hour.
"I don't know where I am," he said, rising to his feet, "and I must
trust to luck as to what is best next to do. This must be the
Windjammers' Island. I think I could tell if I could get to some high
point overlooking it or a part of it."
Dave looked doubtfully up beyond the shore cliffs where the higher hills
showed. It looked to be a pretty hard task to scale those heights in
his present battered-up condition.
"I'm going to try it, anyhow," decided Dave, and he did.
"I can't go any farther--at least not just now," said Dave, an hour
later.
He sank down on a moss-covered rock overlooking a kind of valley. Its
other side, however, was higher up than the point where he was.
"I think another hundred feet will bring me to where I can get a good
view," thought the young diver; "that is in daylight, and daylight will
soon be here."
The pods, which tasted like cocoa, had been filling to Dave, but not
exactly satisfying.
"It's like a fellow eating candy when he needs beefsteak," he mused. "I
shall have to hunt up something more substantial later on."
From his previous acquaintance with the island Dave knew that there were
many kinds of shellfish to be found, besides berries and other fruits,
for the searching. He was not one bit afraid that he would have to
starve.
"I must watch out for the natives, too," he continued. "I must devise
some kind of a weapon of defense."
Dave thought over these things, lying restfully on the rock. He had
about decided to resume his journey, calculating how long it would take
him to reach a certain point on which his eyes were fixed.
"Hello!" he exclaimed suddenly, sitting bolt-upright.
What had attracted Dave's attention was a light. It had appeared
suddenly on a ledge, almost at the top of the hill he was bent on
climbing.
It was no fixed light, but a broad swaying jet of fire. Whoever held it
was evidently swinging a lighted wisp of straw or something of that
sort.
"I wonder what that means," mused Dave. "I wonder who it can be.
Probably a native. But, native or otherwise, there is method in the way
that light is moving. Yes, it certainly is a signal."
Such Dave decided it surely to be after watching the light for some
minutes.
It described circular and other figures. It seemed directed at a point
somewhere down the valley.
"I would like to know what is going on up there," said Dave, rousing up.
"It would give me an inkling as to whom I have to deal with and where I
really am."
After a further rest of a few minutes the young diver resumed the ascent
of the hill.