by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER NINE.
THE SIGNAL-STAFF.
I succeeded in reaching the reef, but not without a tough struggle. AsI breasted the water, I felt that there was a current against me--thetide; and this it was, as well as the breeze, that had been drifting theboat away. But I got back to the reef, and there was not a foot tospare. The stroke that brought me up to the edge of the rocks, wouldhave been my last, had no rocks been there; for it would have been thelast I could give, so much was I exhausted. Fortunately, my strengthhad proved equal to the effort; but that was now quite gone, and I layfor some minutes upon the edge of the reef, at the spot where I hadcrawled out, waiting to recover my breath.
I did not maintain this inactive attitude longer than was necessary.This was not a situation in which to trifle with time; and knowing this,I got to my feet again to see if anything could be done.
Strange enough, I cast my eyes in the direction whence I had just comefrom the boat. It was rather a mechanical glance, and I scarce know whyI should have looked in that particular direction. Perhaps I had somefaint hope that the sunken craft might rise to the surface; and Ibelieve some such fancy actually did present itself. I was notpermitted to indulge in it, for there was no boat to be seen, noranything like one. I saw the oars floating far out, but only the oars;and for all the service they could do me, they might as well have goneto the bottom, along with the boat.
I next turned my eyes toward the shore; but nothing was to be seen inthat direction, but the low-lying land upon which the village wassituated. I could not see any people on shore--in fact, I could hardlydistinguish the houses; for, as if to add to the gloom and peril thatsurrounded me, the sky had become overcast, and along with the clouds afresh breeze had sprung up.
This was raising the water into waves of considerable height, and theseinterfered with my view of the beach. Even in bright weather, thedistance itself would have hindered me from distinguishing human formson the shore; for from the reef to the nearest suburb of the village, itwas more than three statute miles.
Of course, it would have been of no avail to have cried out forassistance. Even on the calmest day I could not have been heard, andfully understanding this, I held my peace.
There was nothing in sight--neither ship, nor sloop, nor schooner, norbrig--not a boat upon the bay. It was Sunday, and vessels had kept inport. Fishing boats for the same reason were not abroad, and suchpleasure boats as belonged to our village had all gone in their usualdirection, down the bay, to a celebrated lighthouse there--most likelythe boat of Harry Blew among the rest.
There was no sail in sight, either to the north, the south, the east, orthe west. The bay appeared deserted, and I felt as much alone as if Ihad been shut up in my coffin.
I remembered instinctively the dread feeling of loneliness that cameover me. I remember that I sank down upon the rocks and wept.
To add to my agony of mind, the sea-birds, probably angry at me forhaving driven them away from their resting-place and feeding ground, nowreturned; and hovering over my head in a large flock, screamed in myears as if they intended to deafen me. At times one or another of themwould swoop almost within reach of my hands; and uttering their wildcries, shoot off again, to return next moment with like hideous screams.I began to be afraid that these wild birds might attack me, though Isuppose, in their demonstrations they were merely actuated by someinstinct of curiosity.
After considering every point that presented itself to my mind, I couldthink of no plan to pursue, other than to sit down (or stand up, if Iliked it better), and wait till some succour should arrive. There wasno other course left. Plainly, I could not get away from the islet ofmyself, and therefore I must needs stay till some one came to fetch me.
But when would that be? It would be the merest chance if any one onshore should turn their eyes in the direction of the reef; and even ifthey did, they would not recognise my presence there without the aid ofa glass. One or two of the watermen had telescopes--this I knew--andHarry Blew had one; but it was not every day that the men used theseinstruments, and ten chances to one against their pointing them to thereef. What would they be looking for in that direction? No boats evercame or went that way, and vessels passing down or up the bay alwaysgave the shoal a wide berth. My chances, therefore, of being seen fromthe shore, either with the naked eye or through a glass, were slenderenough. But still more slender were the hopes I indulged that some boator other craft might pass near enough for me to hail it. It was veryunlikely, indeed, that any one would be coming in that direction.
It was with very disconsolate feelings, then, that I sat down upon therock to await the result.
That I should have to remain there till I should be starved I did notanticipate. The prospect did not appear to me so bad as that, and yetsuch might have been the case, but for one circumstance, which I feltconfident would arise to prevent it. This was, that Harry Blew would_miss the dinghy and make search for me_.
He might not, indeed, miss her before nightfall, because he might notreturn with his boating party before that time. As soon as night came,however, he would be certain to get home; and then, finding the littleboat away from her moorings, he would naturally suspect that I had takenher, for I was the only boy in the village, or man either, who wasallowed this privilege. The boat being absent, then, and not evenreturning at night, Blew would most likely proceed to my uncle's house;and then the alarm at my unusual absence would lead to a search for me;which I supposed would soon guide them to my actual whereabouts.
Indeed, I was far less troubled about the danger I was in than about thedamage I had done. How could I ever face my friend Blew again? how makeup for the loss of his boat? This was a serious consideration. I hadno money of my own, and would my uncle pay it for me? I feared not; andyet some one must remunerate the young waterman for the considerableloss I had occasioned him. But who was to do it, or how was it to bedone? If my uncle would only allow me to work for Harry, thought I, Imight make it up to him in that way. I would be willing to work at somuch a week, till the boat was paid for; if he could only find somethingfor me to do.
I was actually making calculations as to how I should make good theloss, and regarding that as my chief trouble at the moment. It had notyet occurred to me _that my life was in danger_. True, I anticipated ahungry night of it, and a bitter cold one too. I should be wet throughand through, for I knew that when the tide returned, it would cover thestones of the reef, and I should have to stand all night in the water.
By the way, how deep would it be? Up to my knees?
I looked around to discover some means of judging how high the water waswont to rise. I knew that the rocks would be all covered, for I hadoften seen them so; but I had been all my life under the impression, andso were people who lived on the shore, that the water rose only a fewinches above the reef.
At first, I could observe nothing that would guide me as to the height,but at length my eye fell upon the signal-staff, and ran up and down itsshaft. There was a water-line sure enough, and there was even a circleof white paint round the post, no doubt intended to mark it; but judgemy surprise, my absolute terror, when I perceived that this line was atleast _six feet above the base of the staff_!
Half distracted, I ran up to the pole. I placed myself by its side andlooked up. Alas! my eye had measured but too correctly. The line wasfar above my head. I could hardly touch it with the tips of my fingers!
A thrill of horror ran through my veins, as I contemplated the result ofthis discovery. The danger was too clearly defined. Before rescuecould reach me, the tide would be in. I should be overwhelmed--sweptfrom the reef--drowned in the waste of waters!