by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER TEN.
CLIMBING A SMOOTH POLE.
My belief now was, that my life was in peril--nay, rather, that deathwas almost certain. My hopes of being rescued on that day were butslight from the first, but now they were slighter than ever. The tidewould be back long before night. In a few hours it would be at itsflood, and that would be the end. Should people go in search of mebefore night--which, for reasons already given, was not at all likely--they would be too late. The tide would not wait either for them or forme.
The mixed feeling of horror and despair that came over me, held me for along time as if paralysed. I could not give consideration to anything,nor did I notice for some time what was going on around me. I onlygazed upon the blank surface of the sea, at intervals turning from oneside to the other, and helplessly regarding the waves. There wasneither sail nor boat in sight; nothing to relieve the dreary monotony,but here and there the white wings of the gulls, flapping about at theirleisure. They no longer continued to annoy me with their screaming,though, now and then, an odd one would return and fly very near; as ifwondering what I was doing in such a place, and whether I did not meanto go away from it.
From this state of gloomy despair I was aroused by a gleam of hope. Myeyes had fallen upon the signal-staff, the sight of which had so latelycaused me a feeling of the opposite kind; and then the thought rushedinto my mind that by means of this I might save myself.
I need hardly say that my design was to climb to its top, and thereremain till the tide should go down again. One half the post, I knew,was above watermark, even at high tide; and on its top I should findsafety.
It was only a question of climbing up the staff; but that seemed easyenough. I was a good tree climber, and surely I could accomplish this.
The discovery of this place of refuge filled me with renewed hopes.Nothing could be easier than to get up; I might have a hard night of it,staying up there, but there could be no danger. The peril was past: Ishould yet live to laugh at it.
Buoyed up with this belief, I once more approached the staff, with theintention of climbing up. I did not intend going up to remain. Ithought it would be time enough when my footing failed me below; it wasonly to make sure that I should be able to climb the pole when the hourof necessity arrived.
I found it more difficult than I had anticipated, especially in gettingup the first six feet. This portion of the staff was coated over withsome slimy substance--the same that covered the rocks around--and thisrendered it as slippery as one of the greased poles that I had seen atmerry-makings in our village.
It cost me several attempts and failures before I could get above thewatermark; but the rest was more easy, and I soon reached the top of thestaff.
I stretched my hand upward to seize hold of the barrel, and draw myselfup upon it, congratulating myself that I had been able to accomplish myobject, when a change came suddenly over my feelings, and I was oncemore plunged into despair.
My arm was too short to reach the upper rim of the cask. I could onlytouch the swell, scarce half-way up. I could get no hold upon it,either to stay me where I was, or to pull myself up farther.
I could not remain where I was. In a few seconds my strength gave way,and I was forced to slide down to the base of the staff.
I tried again, with no better success; and then again, with a similarresult. It was to no purpose. Stretch my arms as I would, and wrigglemy limbs as I might, I could not get my body higher than the point wherethe staff was set, and could only extend my hand half-way up the roundedswell of the cask. Of course I could not keep there, as there wasnothing to rest my weight upon, and I was forced to glide back to theground.
It was with a feeling of renewed alarm, then, that I made thisdiscovery, but I did not as before yield myself up to despair. Perhapsmy wits were quickened by the peril that was fast approaching me. Atall events, I kept my senses about me, and set to considering what wasbest to be done.
If I had only been in possession of a knife, I might have cut notches inthe pole high up, and on these rested my feet; but I had no knife--nothing to make notches with--unless I had eaten them out with my teeth.Verily I was in a difficult dilemma.
All at once, however, a bright thought came to my relief. Why might Inot raise a resting-place from below? Why not make a platform bybuilding stones around the post, until they had reached above watermark,and then stand upon these? The very thing itself. A few stones, I hadnoticed already, were piled around the base, no doubt placed there tomake the staff more firm. It would only be to bring up more stones,build them into a _cairn_, and then get on the top of them!
Delighted with this new project of safety, I lost not a moment insetting about carrying it into effect. There were plenty of looseboulders lying over the reef, and I supposed that in a few minutes Icould heap up enough of them to serve the purpose; but I had not workedlong before I perceived that the job would occupy me longer than I hadanticipated. The stones were slippery, and this hindered me greatly incarrying them--some were too heavy for me, and others that I hadsupposed to be loose, I found to be half buried in sand, and held sofast that I could not draw them out.
Notwithstanding these impediments, I worked on with all the strength andenergy I could command. I knew that in time I could raise the cairn ashigh as required, but time had now become the all-engrossing subject ofmy thoughts.
The tide had long since turned; it was rising; slowly and continuouslyit was lipping nearer and nearer--slowly but with certainty was itcoming; and I perceived all this!
I had many a fall, as I scrambled to and fro; and my knees were bleedingfrom contact with the hard stones; but these were not matters to grieveabout, nor was it a time to give way to hardships, however painful toendure. A far greater hardship threatened--the loss of life itself--andI needed no urging to make me persevere with my work.
I had raised the pile up to the height of my head before the tide hadyet risen over the rocks, but I knew that this would not be high enough.Two feet more was wanted to bring the top of my cairn on a level withhigh-water mark; and to accomplish this I slaved away without thinkingof a moment's rest. The work as it went on became more difficult. Theloose stones that lay near had all been used, and I was obliged to gofar out on the reef to procure others. This led to a great many severefalls, in which both my hands and knees were badly bruised; besides, itprevented me from making rapid progress. There was another cause thatdelayed me. At the height of four feet the pile was on a level with thecrown of my head, and it was with difficulty I could place the stoneshigher up. Each one occupied me for minutes, and sometimes a heavyboulder which I had succeeded in getting up, would roll back again,endangering my limbs in its fall.
In fine, after labouring for a long time--two hours, or more--my workwas brought to a termination. Not that it was done--far from it.Unfortunately, it was not terminated, but _interrupted_. Whatinterrupted it I need hardly tell you, as you will guess that it was the_tide_. Yes, it was the tide, which, as soon as it had fairly begun tocover the stones, seemed to rush over them all at once. It did notrecoil, as I have often seen it do upon the beach. There it flows ingradually, wave after wave; but upon the reef--the surface of which wasnearly of equal height--the water, at the first rush, swept all over therocks, and was soon of a considerable depth.
I did not leave off my exertions until long after the rocks werecovered. I worked until I was knee deep in water, bending down to thesurface, almost diving under it, detaching great stones from their bed,and carrying them in my arms towards the pile. I toiled away, with thespray spitting in my face, and sometimes great sheets of it breakingover my body, until I feared it would drown me--toiled on till the watergrew so deep and the sea so strong, that I could not longer keep myfooting upon the rocks; and then, half-wading, half-swimming, I broughtmy last stone to the heap, and hoisted it up. Climbing after, I stoodupon the highest point of the battery I had erected, with my right armclosely hugging the shaft of the signal. In this
attitude, and withtrembling heart, I watched the inflow of the tide.