THE LANDING.
“I long to lay this painful head,
And aching heart beneath the soil,
To slumber in that dreamless bed
From all my toil.
“Though long of winds and waves the sport,
Condemned in wretchedness to roam.
_Live_!—thou shalt reach a sheltering port,
A quiet home.”
_Montgomery._
Just as I had given myself up for lost, providentially I was washed
sideways against a jutting rock, and this enabled me to stem the
recoiling water until it passed away. Although powerless to do
anything I had sense enough left to know that unless I managed to
get further inshore the back-wash of the next wave would certainly
carry me off and finish me outright. I strove to get on my hands and
knees, and with great difficulty succeeded in doing so. I crawled
along, in what direction I knew not, for the sand in my eyes had
made me partially blind, and my neck, which seemed to have given way
altogether, rendered me incapable of holding my head up. Unable to
creep another yard, I tumbled over on to the sand, and, while lying
exhausted, the succeeding wave came up close enough to touch my
feet. I knew then that, instinctively I had been going in the right
direction and was safe, so far, from the sea. After resting for a
brief space, I again essayed the creeping, and painfully dragged
myself over the sand and rocks towards a small cave in front, and at
foot of the cliffs. The distance I had to go was only a few yards,
but in the condition I was it seemed a mile to me. I think it must
have been about 8 a. m. when I got inside the cave. My reason for
going there was a sort of confused idea that I might get shelter from
the cold wind which felt as if it were blowing right through my very
bones. I crouched in a corner on top of some seaweed, but obtained no
relief from the change, indeed, the cold seemed, if possible, worse
than ever, and sharp shooting pains now and then darted over my whole
body.
[Illustration: SORRENTO OCEAN BEACH (from a Photo).
The White Cross indicates where Ponting landed. Showing Jubilee Point
in the distance.]
I endeavored to collect my wandering thoughts concerning the position
I was now in. While on the water I had, at first, strong hope that
assistance would come, then latterly, when nearing the shore, hope
rose again that if I succeeded in getting to the beach I would soon
be right. Now that I was on land, I was helpless to do anything for
myself and there seemed no appearance of aid coming. Evidently the
loss of our vessel was still unknown, otherwise there would have
been somebody on the beach before this time looking for us. Where
were my shipmates? Were they all drowned, or were some of them lying
like myself on other parts of the shore? As these thoughts rushed
through my mind I began to feel that I must abandon all hope of being
rescued. Yet it seemed hard that I should be saved from the waves
only to perish through weakness and exposure on the rocky beach! One
minute I prayed for help and the next I almost longed for death to
come and end my troubles!
I had not been lying down for very long when I began to feel much
easier. The extreme cold had departed and the twitching pain in my
limbs had gradually abated; but, meanwhile, the thirsty craving came
back, and my head got still more dull and leadenlike. I took these
symptoms to mean that I was getting weaker, and slowly dying. The
struggle for life had been a protracted one, but it could not be kept
up much longer. I had striven hard to keep my spirits up and live,
but God had willed that I must go! My poor wife would soon know the
worst. The end of my troubles would be the beginning of hers. My life
being insured, she would not be left altogether penniless, but still
the news of my death would be a sad blow to her and our relations.
God help her, and them! A burning sensation seemed to shoot through
my head! A strange buzzing sound filled my ears, and then I lost all
consciousness!
How long I lay in the cave, or whether in a swoon or sleeping, I
cannot say, but when my senses returned I had a vivid impression that
I had just awoke out of a fearful dream. The state of my body, and
a glance at the rocks around, however, soon convinced me that the
incidents of the past day and night were reality indeed. I now not
only felt sore and numbed, but my whole body tingled with a peculiar
sensation similar to that which a person feels when his leg, or foot,
is said to be “asleep.” On looking outward, I fancied, in my half
blind condition, that the sun was shining brightly on the sand, and
I made up my mind, if possible, to get out to the heat. After a
number of ineffectual attempts, I managed to rise once more on hands
and knees, and got outside, although, when on the way, I reeled over,
like a drunken man, at least a dozen times. With my back on the sand,
I lay head up hill towards the cliffs, but was not there long till I
felt sorry I had left the cave, for the sun seemed to have no heat in
it, and the sand, drifting with the strong wind, flew all over me. I
knew I was too far gone to attempt to return to the cave, and thought
my time had come at last!
Concerning the incidents which took place some time after my coming
out of the cave on to the beach, the reader is already acquainted
with them from the narrations given by others in the former portions
of this book. Personally I have no clear recollection of these
matters. Excepting during intervals of consciousness, all is blank to
me up till Saturday morning, 30th December, when I found myself in
bed at Clark’s hotel, Sorrento, surrounded with the best of comfort
and attention. I distinctly remember hearing the voices of ladies
coming nearer and nearer on the beach, and of my being ungracious
enough to feel no joy at the sound. The thought uppermost in my mind
then was “It’s all over. Too late, too late!”
I also remember speaking to the ladies and subsequently to some
gentlemen. I saw too, as in a dream, a group of people and a dog,
and wondered what they were all doing. During the five days I
remained at Sorrento I received nothing but the greatest care and
attention from everybody. Then I was removed to my own home at South
Melbourne, where through starting to walk too soon, my legs and feet
got bad again and I was confined to bed for six weeks. I believe I
will ultimately get all right, but up to present time of writing, I
still feel, in nerves and muscles, the effects of the long exposure.
Frequently at night I wake up suddenly, suffering from severe cramps
and under the impression that I am on the raft at sea! This reminds
me of a remark I overheard the other day in Melbourne that “the
survivor of the _Alert_ stuck to his raft because he could not swim.”
No greater mistake could be made. I am a native of Tortworth, near
Bristol, England, and when at school there was taught to swim by the
clergyman of the parish. Afterwards I removed to Clevedon, in the
Bristol Channel, where I practised daily, during summertime, swimming
in the surf. Without reckoning myself an _expert_, I purpose in the
next chapter to make a few remarks on this important subject.
[Illustration: Decoration]
[Illustration: R. PONTING AND MR. A. STANTON’S DOG “VICTOR HUGO.”
From a Photo taken after the Wreck.]
[Illustration: Decoration]