After London; Or, Wild England

by Richard Jefferies

  CHAPTER XIII

  SAILING AWAY

  But the next morning Felix arose straight from his sleep resolved tocarry out his plan. Without staying to think a moment, without furtherexamination of the various sides of the problem, he started up theinstant his eyes unclosed, fully determined upon his voyage. The breathof the bright June morn as he threw open the window-shutter filled himwith hope; his heart responded to its joyous influence. The excitementwhich had disturbed his mind had had time to subside. In the stillslumber of the night the strong undercurrent of his thought resumed itscourse, and he awoke with his will still firmly bent in one direction.

  When he had dressed, he took his bow and the chest bound with theleathern thongs, and went down. It was early, but the Baron had alreadyfinished breakfast and gone out to his gardens; the Baroness had not yetappeared. While he was making a hurried breakfast (for having now madeup his mind he was eager to put his resolve into execution), Oliver camein, and seeing the chest and the bow, understood that the hour hadarrived. He immediately said he should accompany him to Heron Bay, andassist him to start, and went out to order their horses. There werealways plenty of riding horses at Old House (as at every fortifiedmansion), and there was not the least difficulty in getting another forFelix in place of his old favourite.

  Oliver insisted upon taking the wooden chest, which was rather heavy,before him on the saddle, so that Felix had nothing to carry but hisfavourite bow. Oliver was surprised that Felix did not first go to thegardens and say good-bye to the Baron, or at least knock at theBaroness's door and bid her farewell. But he made no remark, knowingFelix's proud and occasionally hard temper. Without a word Felix leftthe old place.

  He rode forth from the North Barrier, and did not even so much as lookbehind him. Neither he nor Oliver thought of the events that mighthappen before they should again meet in the old familiar house! When thecircle is once broken up it is often years before it is reformed. Often,indeed, the members of it never meet again, at least, not in the samemanner, which, perhaps, they detested then, and ever afterwardsregretted. Without one word of farewell, without a glance, Felix rodeout into the forest.

  There was not much conversation on the trail to Heron Bay. The serfswere still there in charge of the canoe, and were glad enough to seetheir approach, and thus to be relieved from their lonely watch. Theylaunched the canoe with ease, the provisions were put on board, thechest lashed to the mast that it might not be lost, the favourite bowwas also fastened upright to the mast for safety, and simply shakinghands with Oliver, Felix pushed out into the creek. He paddled the canoeto the entrance and out into the Lake till he arrived where thesouth-west breeze, coming over the forest, touched and rippled thewater, which by the shore was perfectly calm.

  Then, hoisting the sail, he put out the larger paddle which answered asa rudder, took his seat, and, waving his hand to Oliver, began hisvoyage. The wind was but light, and almost too favourable, for he haddetermined to sail to the eastward; not for any specific reason, butbecause there the sun rose, and that was the quarter of light and hope.His canoe, with a long fore-and-aft sail, and so well adapted forworking into the wind, was not well rigged for drifting before a breeze,which was what he was now doing. He had merely to keep the canoe beforethe wind, steering so as to clear the bold headland of White Horse whichrose blue from the water's edge far in front of him. Though the wind waslight, the canoe being so taper and sharp at the prow, and the sail solarge in comparison, slipped from the shore faster than he at firstimagined.

  As he steered aslant from the little bay outwards into the great Lake,the ripples rolling before the wind gradually enlarged into wavelets,these again increased, and in half an hour, as the wind now played uponthem over a mile of surface, they seemed in his canoe, with its lowfreeboard, to be considerable waves. He had purposely refrained fromlooking back till now, lest they should think he regretted leaving, andin his heart desired to return. But now, feeling that he had reallystarted, he glanced behind. He could see no one.

  He had forgotten that the spot where they had launched the canoe was atthe end of an inlet, and as he sailed away the creek was shut off fromview by the shore of the Lake. Unable to get to the mouth of the baybecause of the underwood and the swampy soil, Oliver had remained gazingin the direction the canoe had taken for a minute or two, absorbed inthought (almost the longest period he had ever wasted in such anoccupation), and then with a whistle turned to go. The serfs,understanding that they were no longer required, gathered their thingstogether, and were shortly on their way home. Oliver, holding Felix'shorse by the bridle, had already ridden that way, but he presentlyhalted, and waited till the three men overtook him. He then gave thehorse into their charge, and turning to the right, along a forest pathwhich branched off there, went to Ponze. Felix could therefore see noone when he looked back, and they were indeed already on their way fromthe place.

  He now felt that he was alone. He had parted from the shore, and fromall the old associations; he was fast passing not only out upon thewater, but out into the unknown future. But his spirit no longervacillated; now that he was really in the beginning of his longcontemplated enterprise his natural strength of mind returned. Theweakness and irresolution, the hesitation, left him. He became full ofhis adventure, and thought of nothing else.

  The south-west breeze, blowing as a man breathes, with alternate riseand fall, now driving him along rapidly till the water bubbled under theprow, now sinking, came over his right shoulder and cooled his cheek,for it was now noon, and the June sun was unchecked by clouds. He couldno longer distinguish the shape of the trees on shore; all the boughswere blended together in one great wood, stretching as far as he couldsee. On his left there was a chain of islands, some covered with firs,and others only with brushwood, while others again were so low and flatthat the waves in stormy weather broke almost over them.

  As he drew near White Horse, five white terns, or sea-swallows, flewover; he did not welcome their appearance, as they usually precededrough gales. The headland, wooded to its ridge, now rose high againstthe sky; ash and nut-tree and hawthorn had concealed the ancient gravenfigure of the horse upon its side, but the tradition was not forgotten,and the site retained its name. He had been steering so as just to clearthe promontory, but he now remembered that when he had visited thesummit of the hill, he had observed that banks and shoals extended farout from the shore, and were nearly on a level with the surface of theLake. In a calm they were visible, but waves concealed them, and unlessthe helmsman recognised the swirl sufficiently early to change hiscourse, they were extremely dangerous.

  Felix bore more out from the land, and passing fully a mile to thenorth, left the shoals on his right. On his other hand there was a sandyand barren island barely a quarter of a mile distant, upon which hethought he saw the timbers of a wreck. It was quite probable, for theisland lay in the track of vessels coasting along the shore. BeyondWhite Horse, the land fell away in a series of indentations, curvinginwards to the south; an inhospitable coast, for the hills came down tothe strand, ending abruptly in low, but steep, chalk cliffs. Manyislands of large size stood out on the left, but Felix, not knowing theshape of the Lake beyond White Horse, thought it best to follow thetrend of the land. He thus found, after about three hours, that he hadgone far out of his course, for the gulf-like curve of the coast nowbegan to return to the northward, and looking in that direction he saw amerchant vessel under her one square sail of great size, standing acrossthe bay.

  She was about five miles distant, and was evidently steering so as tokeep just inside the line of the islands. Felix, with some difficulty,steered in a direction to interrupt her. The south-west wind being thenimmediately aft, his sail did not answer well; presently he lowered it,and paddled till he had turned the course so that the outrigger was nowon the eastern side. Then hoisting the sail again, he sat at what hadbefore been the prow, and steered a point or so nearer the wind. Thisimproved her sailing, but as the merchant ship had at least five milesstart, it would ta
ke some hours to overtake her. Nor on reflection washe at all anxious to come up with her, for mariners were dreaded fortheir lawless conduct, being, when on a voyage, beyond all jurisdiction.

  On the one hand, if they saw an opportunity, they did not hesitate toland and pillage a house, or even a hamlet. On the other, those whodwelt anywhere near the shore considered it good sport to light a fireand lure a vessel to her destruction, or if she was becalmed to sallyout in boats, attack, and perhaps destroy both ship and crew. Hence themany wrecks, and losses, and the risks of navigation, not so much fromnatural obstacles, since the innumerable islands, and the creeks andinlets of the mainland almost always offered shelter, no matter whichway the storm blew, but from the animosity of the coast people. If therewas an important harbour and a town where provisions could be obtained,or repairs effected, the right of entrance was jealously guarded, and noship, however pressed by the gale, was permitted to leave, if she hadanchored, without payment of a fine. So that vessels as much as possibleavoided the harbours and towns, and the mainland altogether, sailingalong beside the islands, which were, for the most part, uninhabited,and anchoring under their lee at night.

  Felix, remembering the character of the mariners, resolved to keep wellaway from them, but to watch their course as a guide to himself. Themainland now ran abruptly to the north, and the canoe, as he brought hermore into the wind, sprang forward at a rapid pace. The outriggerprevented her from making any leeway, or heeling over, and the largespread of sail forced her swiftly through the water. He had lost sightof the ship behind some islands, and as he approached these, began toask himself if he had not better haul down his sail there, as he mustnow be getting near her, when to his surprise, on coming close, he sawher great square sail in the middle, as it seemed, of the land. Theshore there was flat, the hills which had hitherto bounded it suddenlyceasing; it was overgrown with reeds and flags, and about two miles awaythe dark sail of the merchantman drifted over these, the hull beinghidden. He at once knew that he had reached the western mouth of thestraits which divide the southern and northern mainland. When he went tosee the channel on foot through the forest, he must have struck it amile or two more to the east, where it wound under the hills.

  In another half hour he arrived at the opening of the strait; it wasabout a mile wide, and either shore was quite flat, that on the rightfor a short distance, the range of downs approaching within two miles;that on the left, or north, was level as far as he could see. He had nowagain to lower his sail, to get the outrigger on his lee as he turned tothe right and steered due east into the channel. So long as the shorewas level, he had no difficulty, for the wind drew over it, but when thehills gradually came near and almost overhung the channel, they shut offmuch of the breeze, and his progress was slow. When it turned and rannarrowing every moment to the south, the wind failed him altogether.

  On the right shore, wooded hills rose from the water like a wall; on theleft, it was a perfect plain. He could see nothing of the merchantman,although he knew that she could not sail here, but must be workingthrough with her sweeps. Her heavy hull and bluff bow must make therowing a slow and laborious process; therefore she could not be farahead, but was concealed by the winding of the strait. He lowered thesail, as it was now useless, and began to paddle; in a very short timehe found the heat under the hills oppressive when thus working. He hadnow been afloat between six and seven hours, and must have come fullythirty miles, perhaps rather more than twenty in a straight line, and hefelt somewhat weary and cramped from sitting so long in the canoe.

  Though he paddled hard he did not seem to make much progress, and atlength he recognised that there was a distinct current, which opposedhis advance, flowing through the channel from east to west. If he ceasedpaddling, he found he drifted slowly back; the long aquatic weeds, too,which he passed, all extended their floating streamers westward. We didnot know of this current till Felix Aquila observed and recorded it.

  Tired and hungry (for, full of his voyage, he had taken no refreshmentssince he started), he resolved to land, rest a little while, and thenascend the hill, and see what he could of the channel. He soon reachedthe shore, the strait having narrowed to less than a mile in width, andran the canoe on the ground by a bush, to which, on getting out, heattached the painter. The relief of stretching his limbs was so greatthat it seemed to endow him with fresh strength, and without waiting toeat, he at once climbed the hill. From the top, the remainder of thestrait could be easily distinguished. But a short distance from where hestood, it bent again, and proceeded due east.