CHAPTER XVIII.
An awful storm and its consequences--Narrow escape--A rock proves a surefoundation--A fearful night and a bright morning--Deliverance fromdanger.
It was evening before we left the island of the penguins. As we had madeup our minds to encamp for the night on a small island, whereon grew afew cocoa-nut trees, which was about two miles off, we lay to our oarswith some energy. But a danger was in store for us which we had notanticipated. The wind, which had carried us so quickly to PenguinIsland, freshened as evening drew on, to a stiff breeze, and, before wehad 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 inthe course we wished to go, yet it checked us very much; and although theforce of the sea was somewhat broken by the island, the waves soon beganto rise, and to roll their broken crests against our small craft, so thatshe 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 itimpossible to make the island, so Jack suddenly put the head of the boatround 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 boatflew before the wind, "and the penguins will keep us company."
As Jack spoke, the wind suddenly shifted, and blew so much against usthat we were forced to hoist more of the sail in order to beat up for theisland, being by this change thrown much to leeward of it. What madematters worse was, that the gale came in squalls, so that we were morethan once nearly upset.
"Stand by, both of you," cried Jack, in a quick, earnest tone; "be readyto 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 Jackthat we had fallen into the way of not considering things, especiallysuch things as were under Jack's care. We had, therefore, never doubtedfor a moment that all was going well, so that it was with no littleanxiety that we heard him make the above remark. However, we had no timefor question or surmise, for, at the moment he spoke, a heavy squall wasbearing down upon us, and, as we were then flying with our lee gunwaledipping occasionally under the waves, it was evident that we should haveto lower our sail altogether. In a few seconds the squall struck theboat, but Peterkin and I had the sail down in a moment, so that it didnot upset us; but, when it was past, we were more than half full ofwater. This I soon baled out, while Peterkin again hoisted a corner ofthe sail; but the evil which Jack had feared came upon us. We found itquite impossible to make Penguin Island. The gale carried us quicklypast it towards the open sea, and the terrible truth flashed upon us thatwe should be swept out and left to perish miserably in a small boat inthe midst of the wide ocean.
This idea was forced very strongly upon us because we saw nothing in thedirection whither the wind was blowing us save the raging billows of thesea; and, indeed, we trembled as we gazed around us, for we were nowbeyond the shelter of the islands, and it seemed as though any of thehuge billows, which curled over in masses of foam, might swallow us up ina moment. The water, also, began to wash in over our sides, and I had tokeep constantly baling, for Jack could not quit the helm nor Peterkin thesail for an instant, without endangering our lives. In the midst of thisdistress Jack uttered an exclamation of hope, and pointed towards a lowisland or rock which lay directly ahead. It had been hithertounobserved, owing to the dark clouds that obscured the sky and theblinding spray that seemed to fill the whole atmosphere.
As we neared this rock we observed that it was quite destitute of treesand verdure, and so low that the sea broke completely over it. In factit was nothing more than the summit of one of the coral formations, whichrose only a few feet above the level of the water, and was, in stormyweather, all but invisible. Over this island the waves were breaking inthe utmost fury, and our hearts sank within us as we saw that there wasnot a spot where we could thrust our little boat without its being dashedto pieces.
"Show a little bit more sail," cried Jack, as we swept past the weatherside 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 creakso loudly, as we cleft the foaming waves, that I expected to be upsetevery instant; and I blamed Jack in my heart for his rashness. But I didhim injustice, for, although during two seconds the water rushed in-boardin a torrent, he succeeded in steering us sharply round to the leewardside of the rock, where the water was comparatively calm, and the forceof the breeze broken.
"Out your oars now, lads; that's well done. Give way!" We obeyedinstantly. The oars splashed into the waves together. One good heartypull, and we were floating in a comparatively calm creek that was sonarrow as to be barely able to admit our boat. Here we were in perfectsafety, and, as we leaped on shore and fastened our cable to the rocks, Ithanked 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 myreaders would have envied our position. It is true we had no lack offood, but we were drenched to the skin; the sea was foaming round us andthe spray flying over our heads, so that we were completely enveloped, asit were, in water; the spot on which we had landed was not more thantwelve yards in diameter, and from this spot we could not move withoutthe risk of being swept away by the storm. At the upper end of the creekwas a small hollow or cave in the rock, which sheltered us from the furyof the winds and waves; and as the rock extended in a sort of ledge overour heads, it prevented the spray from falling upon us.
"Why," said Peterkin, beginning to feel cheery again, "it seems to methat we have got into a mermaid's cave, for there is nothing but waterall 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 inwhite foam up to our very feet, and the spray flying in white sheetscontinually over our heads, and the water dripping heavily from the ledgeabove like a curtain in front of our cave, it did seem to us very muchmore like being below than above water.
"Now, boys," cried Jack, "bestir yourselves, and let's make ourselvescomfortable. Toss out our provisions, Peterkin; and here, Ralph, lend ahand to haul up the boat. Look sharp."
"Ay, ay, captain," we cried, as we hastened to obey, much cheered by thehearty manner of our comrade.
Fortunately the cave, although not very deep, was quite dry, so that wesucceeded in making ourselves much more comfortable than could have beenexpected. We landed our provisions, wrung the water out of our garments,spread our sail below us for a carpet, and, after having eaten a heartymeal, began to feel quite cheerful. But as night drew on, our spiritssank again, for with the daylight all evidence of our security vanishedaway. We could no longer see the firm rock on which we lay, while wewere stunned with the violence of the tempest that raged around us. Thenight grew pitchy dark, as it advanced, so that we could not see ourhands when we held them up before our eyes, and were obliged to feel eachother occasionally to make sure that we were safe, for the storm at lastbecame so terrible that it was difficult to make our voices audible. Aslight variation of the wind, as we supposed, caused a few drops of sprayever and anon to blow into our faces; and the eddy of the sea, in its madboiling, washed up into our little creek until it reached our feet andthreatened to tear away our boat. In order to prevent this lattercalamity, we hauled the boat farther up and held the cable in our hands.Occasional flashes of lightning shone with a ghastly glare through thewatery curtains around us, and lent additional horror to the scene. Yetwe longed for those dismal flashes, for they were less appalling than thethick blackness that succeeded them. Crashing peals of thunder seemed totear the skies in twain, and fell upon our ears through the wild yellingof the hurricane as if it had been but a gentle summer breeze; while thebillows burst upon the weather side of the island until we fancied thatthe solid rock was giving way, and, in our agony, we cl
ung to the bareground, expecting every moment to be whirled away and whelmed in theblack howling sea! Oh! it was a night of terrible anxiety, and no onecan conceive the feelings of intense gratitude and relief with which weat 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 stormcontinued to rage with unabated fury. On the morning of the fourth dayit suddenly ceased, and the wind fell altogether; but the waves still ranso high that we did not dare to put off in our boat. During the greaterpart of this period we scarcely slept above a few minutes at a time, buton the third night we slept soundly and awoke early on the fourth morningto find the sea very much down, and the sun shining brightly again in theclear blue sky.
It was with light hearts that we launched forth once more in our littleboat and steered away for our island home, which, we were overjoyed tofind, was quite visible on the horizon, for we had feared that we hadbeen blown out of sight of it altogether. As it was a dead calm we hadto row during the greater part of the day; but towards the afternoon afair breeze sprang up, which enabled us to hoist our sail. We soonpassed Penguin Island, and the other island which we had failed to reachon 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 greatdisappointment of Peterkin, who seemed to entertain quite an affectionfor the penguins.
Although the breeze was pretty fresh for several hours, we did not reachthe outer reef of our island till night-fall, and before we had sailedmore 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 andstars were shining brightly when we arrived opposite the bower and leapedupon the strand. So glad were we to be safe back again on our belovedisland, that we scarcely took time to drag the boat a short way up thebeach, and then ran up to see that all was right at the bower. I mustconfess, however, that my joy was mingled with a vague sort of fear lestour home had been visited and destroyed during our absence; but onreaching it we found everything just as it had been left, and the poorblack cat curled up, sound asleep, on the coral table in front of ourhumble dwelling.