MORNING.
“See, the day begins to break,
And the light shoots like a streak
Of subtle fire. The wind blows cold,
While the morning doth unfold,”—_Fletcher_
At length—and what a length—the day began to dawn, and with it came
renewed hope that I might be rescued. As the welcome light crept
slowly in I kept straining my eyes, when I got a chance on top of
a sea, for some signs of my shipmates, but in no direction could I
see the slightest trace. Had they been picked up? Had they reached
the shore? or had they, unable to withstand the tossing and exposure
during the fearful night, all been drowned? The sight of even one of
them would have helped to revive my drooping spirits. Whilst it was
dark night I clung to the thought that although I could not see my
mates, still some of them might be near me. Now, however, I realised
that I was alone amidst the seething waters. Then I remembered
that when darkness closed in on the previous day the majority of
my companions were a good distance inshore of me, and it was just
possible that they had got safely to land. This reflection helped
me to make up my mind to struggle on while there was a bit of life
left in me. A number of albatrosses now began to hover around, and
two of them swooped down close to my head. I raised my arms as well
as I could and thereby succeeded in frightening them away. Seeing me
lying on the boards I dare say they thought I was dead! By the time
daylight came thoroughly in I was able to see the land stretching
along at no great distance off. I think it must have been about 5 a.
m. when I found myself right abreast of the Schanck with a strong
current sweeping round it and setting me towards the Heads. The tide,
wind and sea all bore directly on my raft and seemed to be taking me
rapidly nearer the shore.
Quite plainly I could see the Rotunda on St. Paul’s, and by all
appearance I was being driven in a little to the westward of it.
When lifted up by the seas, as I came nearer and nearer the shore,
I saw what looked like a little bay with a belt, or patch, of sandy
beach at the head of it. Whilst earnestly praying that I might be
fortunate enough to be drawn into the bay, my heart went down again
when I caught sight of the fearful breakers that were running across
its entrance. These breakers lay directly in front of me, and I could
see no way in, except by passing through them. Gathering my scattered
senses together as well as I could, I took a fresh hold of my boards,
and prepared for a last desperate effort. As I got close to the
broken waters I could hear their thundering roar, although they were
still to leeward of my raft. After some minutes’ anxious suspense, I
reached the dreaded breakers; then almost instantly my boards were
ruthlessly snatched away, in spite of my best efforts to retain them.
I felt myself being turned over and over like a rolling ball; at the
same time I experienced, more than at any previous period, an awful
sense of utter helplessness. The thick foam filled my mouth and
nostrils so much that I felt all the sensations of suffocation, and
believed my end had come. Just then another sea threw me clear of the
foam and dashed me, face and knees downwards, on to some rocks which
were sunk a little under water. Instinctively I threw out my arms,
and thus prevented my face from striking the jutting stones, while
the thickness of the life-belt kept the blows from my body. Dazed,
and almost senseless as I was, I could see that the sandy patch was
still a distance off, too far away for me to expect the incoming
breaker to carry me there. My strength being gone, I felt it utterly
useless to attempt to swim to the beach, and hence I came to the
conclusion that if the next wave did not take me in, it would dash me
against the rocks and knock out the little life I had left. Along,
it came roaring, but being too weak and stupid to make ready for it,
I was caught broadside on, lifted high above the rocks, and whirled
away helpless as a log, right up on the sandy shore, As I rolled
over and over on the sand the motion made my neck and head feel as
if they were going to burst in pieces. Suddenly the rolling ceased,
then I became aware that the back-wash of the wave was taking me
out again. In sheer desperation I clutched the sand, but my fingers,
being numbed and nerveless, had no power of grasping. Then I dug my
knuckles in as well as I could, but all to no purpose, out I kept
going, as helpless as when I came in!
[Illustration: two sailing ships]
[Illustration: Decoration]