Treasure Island

he Cruise of the Coracle

It was broad day when I awoke and found myself tossing at the south-west
end of Treasure Island. The sun was up but was still hid from me behind
the great bulk of the Spy-glass, which on this side descended almost to
the sea in formidable cliffs.

Haulbowline Head and Mizzenmast Hill were at my elbow, the hill bare
and dark, the head bound with cliffs forty or fifty feet high and
fringed with great masses of fallen rock. I was scarce a quarter of a
mile to seaward, and it was my first thought to paddle in and land.

That notion was soon given over. Among the fallen rocks the breakers
spouted and bellowed; loud reverberations, heavy sprays flying and
falling, succeeded one another from second to second; and I saw myself,
if I ventured nearer, dashed to death upon the rough shore or spending
my strength in vain to scale the beetling crags.

Nor was that all, for crawling together on flat tables of rock or
letting themselves drop into the sea with loud reports I beheld huge
slimy monsters--soft snails, as it were, of incredible bigness--two
or three score of them together, making the rocks to echo with their
barkings.

I have understood since that they were sea lions, and entirely harmless.
But the look of them, added to the difficulty of the shore and the
high running of the surf, was more than enough to disgust me of that
landing-place. I felt willing rather to starve at sea than to confront
such perils.

In the meantime I had a better chance, as I supposed, before me. North
of Haulbowline Head, the land runs in a long way, leaving at low tide
a long stretch of yellow sand. To the north of that, again, there comes
another cape--Cape of the Woods, as it was marked upon the chart--buried
in tall green pines, which descended to the margin of the sea.

I remembered what Silver had said about the current that sets northward
along the whole west coast of Treasure Island, and seeing from my
position that I was already under its influence, I preferred to leave
Haulbowline Head behind me and reserve my strength for an attempt to
land upon the kindlier-looking Cape of the Woods.

There was a great, smooth swell upon the sea. The wind blowing steady
and gentle from the south, there was no contrariety between that and the
current, and the billows rose and fell unbroken.

Had it been otherwise, I must long ago have perished; but as it was,
it is surprising how easily and securely my little and light boat could
ride. Often, as I still lay at the bottom and kept no more than an eye
above the gunwale, I would see a big blue summit heaving close above me;
yet the coracle would but bounce a little, dance as if on springs, and
subside on the other side into the trough as lightly as a bird.

I began after a little to grow very bold and sat up to try my skill at
paddling. But even a small change in the disposition of the weight will
produce violent changes in the behaviour of a coracle. And I had hardly
moved before the boat, giving up at once her gentle dancing movement,
ran straight down a slope of water so steep that it made me giddy, and
struck her nose, with a spout of spray, deep into the side of the next
wave.

I was drenched and terrified, and fell instantly back into my old
position, whereupon the coracle seemed to find her head again and led
me as softly as before among the billows. It was plain she was not to be
interfered with, and at that rate, since I could in no way influence her
course, what hope had I left of reaching land?

I began to be horribly frightened, but I kept my head, for all that.
First, moving with all care, I gradually baled out the coracle with my
sea-cap; then, getting my eye once more above the gunwale, I set myself
to study how it was she managed to slip so quietly through the rollers.

I found each wave, instead of the big, smooth glossy mountain it looks
from shore or from a vessel’s deck, was for all the world like any range
of hills on dry land, full of peaks and smooth places and valleys. The
coracle, left to herself, turning from side to side, threaded, so to
speak, her way through these lower parts and avoided the steep slopes
and higher, toppling summits of the wave.

“Well, now,” thought I to myself, “it is plain I must lie where I am and
not disturb the balance; but it is plain also that I can put the paddle
over the side and from time to time, in smooth places, give her a shove
or two towards land.” No sooner thought upon than done. There I lay on
my elbows in the most trying attitude, and every now and again gave a
weak stroke or two to turn her head to shore.

It was very tiring and slow work, yet I did visibly gain ground; and as
we drew near the Cape of the Woods, though I saw I must infallibly
miss that point, I had still made some hundred yards of easting. I was,
indeed, close in. I could see the cool green tree-tops swaying together
in the breeze, and I felt sure I should make the next promontory without
fail.

It was high time, for I now began to be tortured with thirst. The glow
of the sun from above, its thousandfold reflection from the waves, the
sea-water that fell and dried upon me, caking my very lips with salt,
combined to make my throat burn and my brain ache. The sight of the
trees so near at hand had almost made me sick with longing, but the
current had soon carried me past the point, and as the next reach of sea
opened out, I beheld a sight that changed the nature of my thoughts.

Right in front of me, not half a mile away, I beheld the HISPANIOLA
under sail. I made sure, of course, that I should be taken; but I was
so distressed for want of water that I scarce knew whether to be glad
or sorry at the thought, and long before I had come to a conclusion,
surprise had taken entire possession of my mind and I could do nothing
but stare and wonder.

The HISPANIOLA was under her main-sail and two jibs, and the beautiful
white canvas shone in the sun like snow or silver. When I first
sighted her, all her sails were drawing; she was lying a course about
north-west, and I presumed the men on board were going round the island
on their way back to the anchorage. Presently she began to fetch more
and more to the westward, so that I thought they had sighted me and were
going about in chase. At last, however, she fell right into the wind’s
eye, was taken dead aback, and stood there awhile helpless, with her
sails shivering.

“Clumsy fellows,” said I; “they must still be drunk as owls.” And I
thought how Captain Smollett would have set them skipping.

Meanwhile the schooner gradually fell off and filled again upon another
tack, sailed swiftly for a minute or so, and brought up once more dead
in the wind’s eye. Again and again was this repeated. To and fro, up and
down, north, south, east, and west, the HISPANIOLA sailed by swoops
and dashes, and at each repetition ended as she had begun, with idly
flapping canvas. It became plain to me that nobody was steering. And if
so, where were the men? Either they were dead drunk or had deserted her,
I thought, and perhaps if I could get on board I might return the vessel
to her captain.

The current was bearing coracle and schooner southward at an equal rate.
As for the latter’s sailing, it was so wild and intermittent, and she
hung each time so long in irons, that she certainly gained nothing, if
she did not even lose. If only I dared to sit up and paddle, I made
sure that I could overhaul her. The scheme had an air of adventure
that inspired me, and the thought of the water breaker beside the fore
companion doubled my growing courage.

Up I got, was welcomed almost instantly by another cloud of spray, but
this time stuck to my purpose and set myself, with all my strength and
caution, to paddle after the unsteered HISPANIOLA. Once I shipped a sea
so heavy that I had to stop and bail, with my heart fluttering like
a bird, but gradually I got into the way of the thing and guided my
coracle among the waves, with only now and then a blow upon her bows and
a dash of foam in my face.

I was now gaining rapidly on the schooner; I could see the brass glisten
on the tiller as it banged about, and still no soul appeared upon her
decks. I could not choose but suppose she was deserted. If not, the men
were lying drunk below, where I might batten them down, perhaps, and do
what I chose with the ship.

For some time she had been doing the worse thing possible for
me--standing still. She headed nearly due south, yawing, of course, all
the time. Each time she fell off, her sails partly filled, and these
brought her in a moment right to the wind again. I have said this was
the worst thing possible for me, for helpless as she looked in this
situation, with the canvas cracking like cannon and the blocks trundling
and banging on the deck, she still continued to run away from me, not
only with the speed of the current, but by the whole amount of her
leeway, which was naturally great.

But now, at last, I had my chance. The breeze fell for some seconds,
very low, and the current gradually turning her, the HISPANIOLA revolved
slowly round her centre and at last presented me her stern, with the
cabin window still gaping open and the lamp over the table still burning
on into the day. The main-sail hung drooped like a banner. She was
stock-still but for the current.

For the last little while I had even lost, but now redoubling my
efforts, I began once more to overhaul the chase.

I was not a hundred yards from her when the wind came again in a clap;
she filled on the port tack and was off again, stooping and skimming
like a swallow.

My first impulse was one of despair, but my second was towards joy.
Round she came, till she was broadside on to me--round still till she
had covered a half and then two thirds and then three quarters of the
distance that separated us. I could see the waves boiling white under
her forefoot. Immensely tall she looked to me from my low station in the
coracle.

And then, of a sudden, I began to comprehend. I had scarce time to
think--scarce time to act and save myself. I was on the summit of one
swell when the schooner came stooping over the next. The bowsprit was
over my head. I sprang to my feet and leaped, stamping the coracle under
water. With one hand I caught the jib-boom, while my foot was lodged
between the stay and the brace; and as I still clung there panting, a
dull blow told me that the schooner had charged down upon and struck the
coracle and that I was left without retreat on the HISPANIOLA.