VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
For now I stand as one upon a rock, Environed with a wilderness of sea, Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, Expecting ever when some envious surge Will in his brinish bowels swallow him. SHAKESPEARE.
The tide was on the ebb when Newton was left in this desolate situation.After some minutes passed in bitterness of spirit, his natural couragereturned; and although the chance of preservation was next to hopeless,Newton rose up, resolved that he would use his best efforts, and trustto Providence for their success. His first idea was to examine thebeach, and see if Jackson had left him any portion of the provisionswhich he had put into the boat; but there was nothing. He then walkedalong the beach, following the receding tide, with the hope ofcollecting any shell-fish which might be left upon the sands; but hereagain he was disappointed. It was evident, therefore, that to stay onthis islet was to starve; his only chance appeared to remain in hiscapability of reaching the islet next to it, which, as we have beforementioned, was covered with trees. There, at least, he might find somemeans of sustenance, and be able with the wood to make a raft, ifnothing better should turn up in his favour.
The tide swept down towards the islet, but it ran so strong that therewas no chance of his being carried past it; he therefore determined towait for an hour or two, until the strength of the current wasdiminished, and then make the attempt. This interval was passed instrengthening his mind against the horror of the almost positive deathwhich stared him in the face.
It was about an hour before low water that Newton walked into the sea,and commending himself to Providence, struck out for the islet, keepinghis course well to windward, to allow for the tide sweeping him down.To use a nautical phrase, he "held his own" extremely well, until hereached the centre of the channel, where the water ran with greatvelocity, and bore him down rapidly with the stream. Newton struggledhard; for he was aware that the strength of the current once passed, hislabour would be comparatively easy; and so it proved: as he neared theshore of the islet, he made good way; but he had been carried down sofar when in the centre of the stream, that it became a nice point, evento the calculation of hope, whether he would fetch the extreme point ofthe islet. Newton redoubled his exertions, when, within thirty yards ofthe shore an eddy assisted him, and he made sure of success; but whenwithin ten yards, a counter current again caught him, and swept himdown. He was now abreast of the very extreme point of the islet; a bushthat hung over the water was his only hope; with three or four desperatestrokes he exhausted his remaining strength, at the same time that heseized hold of a small bough, It was decayed--snapped asunder, andNewton was whirled away by the current into the broad ocean.
How constantly do we find people running into real danger to avoidimaginary evil! A mother will not permit her child to go to sea, lestit should be drowned, and a few days afterwards it is kicked to death bya horse. Had the child been permitted to go afloat, he might have livedand run through the usual term of existence. Wherever we are, orwherever we may go, there is death awaiting us in some shape or another,sooner or later; and there is as much danger in walking through thestreets of London as in ploughing the foaming ocean. Every tile overour heads contains a death within it, as certain if it were to fall uponus, as that occasioned by the angry surge, which swallows us up in itswrath. I believe, after all, that as many sailors in proportion, runout their allotted span as the rest of the world that are engaged inother apparently less dangerous professions; although it must beacknowledged that occasionally we do become food for fishes. "There isa tide in the affairs of men," says Shakespeare; but certainly, of allthe tides that ever interfered in a man's prospects, that which sweptaway Newton Forster appeared to be the least likely to "lead tofortune." Such however was the case. Had Newton gained the islet whichhe coveted, he would have perished miserably; whereas it will soonappear, that although his sufferings are not yet ended, his beingcarried away was the most fortunate circumstance which could haveoccurred, and proved the means of his ultimate preservation.
Newton had resigned himself to his fate. He ceased from furtherexertion, except such as was necessary to keep him above water a littlelonger. Throwing himself on his back, he appealed to Heaven for pardon,as he floated away with the stream. That Newton had as few errors andfollies to answer for as most people, is most certain; yet even the mostperfect soon run up a long account. During our lives our sins areforgotten, as is the time at which they were committed; but when deathis certain, or appears to be so, it is then that the memory becomes mosthorribly perfect, and each item of our monstrous bill requires but a fewseconds to be read, and to be acknowledged as too correct. This is thehorror of death; this it is which makes the body struggle to retain thesoul, already pluming herself and rustling her wings, impatient for herflight. This it is which constitutes the pang of separation, as theenfeebled body gradually relaxes its hold, and--all is over, at least onthis side of the grave.
Newton's strength was exhausted; his eyes were fixed on the clear bluesky, as if to bid it farewell; and, resigned to his fate, he was aboutto give over the last few painful efforts, which he was aware could onlyprolong, not save his life, when he received a blow on his shoulderunder the water. Imagining that it proceeded from the tail of a shark,or of some other of the ravenous monsters of the deep, which aboundamong these islands, and that the next moment his body would be severedin half, he uttered a faint cry at the accumulated horror of his death;but the next moment his legs were swung round by the current, and heperceived, to his astonishment, that he was aground upon one of thesand-banks which abounded on the reef, and over which the tide wasrunning with the velocity of a sluice. He floundered, then rose, andfound himself in about one foot of water. The ebb-tide was nearlyfinished, and this was one of the banks which never showed itself abovewater, except during the full and change of the moon. It was now aboutnine o'clock in the morning, and the sun shone with great power.Newton, faint from want of sustenance, hardly knew whether to considerthis temporary respite as an advantage. He knew that the tide wouldsoon flow again, and felt that his strength was too much spent to enablehim to swim back to the islet which he had missed when he had attemptedto reach it, and which was more than two miles from the bank upon whichhe then stood. What chance had he then but to be swept away by thereturn of the tide? He almost regretted that it had not been a sharkinstead of the sand-bank which had struck him; he would then have beenspared a few hours of protracted misery.
As Newton had foreseen, the ebb-tide was soon over; a short pause of"slack water" ensued, and there was an evident and rapid increase of thewater around him; the wind too freshened, and the surface of the oceanwas in strong ripples. As the water deepened, so did the waves increasein size: every moment added to his despair. He had now remained aboutfour hours on the bank! the water had risen to underneath his arms, thewaves nearly lifted him off his feet, and it was with difficulty that hecould retain his position. Hope deserted him, and his senses becameconfused. He thought that he saw green fields, and cities, andinhabitants. His reason was departing: he saw his father coming down tohim with the tide, and called to him for help, when the actual sight ofsomething recalled him from his temporary aberration. There was a darkobject upon the water, evidently approaching. His respiration wasalmost suspended as he watched its coming. At last he distinguishedthat it must either be a whale asleep, or a boat bottom up. Fortunatelyfor Newton, it proved to be the latter. At last it was brought down bythe tide to within a few yards of him, and appeared to be checked.Newton dashed out towards the boat, and in a minute was safely astrideupon it. As soon as he had recovered a little from his agitation, heperceived that it was the very boat belonging to the brig, in whichJackson had so treacherously deserted and left him on the island!
At three o'clock it was high water, and at five the water had againretreated, so that Newton could quit his station on the bottom of theboat, and walk round her. He then righted, and discovered that the masthad be
en carried away close to the step, but, with the sail, stillremained fast to the boat by the main sheet, which had jammed on thebelaying pin, so that it still was serviceable. Every thing else hadbeen lost out of the boat, except the grapnel, which had been bent, andwhich hanging down in the water, from the boat being capsized, hadbrought it up when it was floated on the sand-bank. Newton, who hadneither eaten nor drank since the night before, was again in despair,tormented as he was by insufferable thirst, when he observed that thelocker under the stern-sheets was closed. He hastened to pull it open,and found that the bottles of wine and cider, which he had depositedthere, were remaining. A bottle of the latter was soon poured down histhroat, and Newton felt as if restored to his former vigour.
At seven o'clock in the evening the boat was nearly high and dry.Newton baled her out, and fixing the grapnel firmly in the sand, laydown to sleep in the stern-sheets, covered over with the sail. Hissleep was so sound, that he did not wake until six o'clock the nextmorning, when the boat was again aground. He refreshed himself withsome wine, and meditated upon his prospect. Thanking Heaven for arenewed chance of escape, and lamenting over the fate of the unpreparedJackson, who had evidently been upset, from the main-sheet having beenjammed, Newton resolved to make for one of the English isles, which heknew to be about two hundred miles distant.
The oars had been lost, but the rudder of the boat was fortunately madefast by a pennant. In the afternoon he drew up his grapnel, and madesail in the direction, as well as he could judge from the position ofthe sun, to the English isles. As the night closed in, he watched thestars, and steered his course by them.
The next day came, and, although the boat sailed well, and went fastbefore a free wind, no land was in sight. Newton had again recourse tothe cider and the wine.
The second night he could hardly keep his eyes open; yet, wearied as hewas, he still continued his course, and never quitted his helm. The dayagain dawned, and Newton's strength was gone, from constant watching;still he bore up against it, until the sun had set.
No land was yet to be seen, and sleep overpowered him. He took a hitchof the main-sheet round his finger, that, should the breeze freshen hemight be roused, in case he should go to sleep; and having taken thisprecaution, in a few minutes the boat _was steering herself_!
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
Newton Forster; Or, The Merchant Service Page 18