My most daring hopes were realized almost at once, for a big dolphin—the first we had seen for a long time— came gliding gently through the water and offered itself as a target. Although Jean was by no means in his old form, he pulled himself together and was able to spear it at the second attempt, but when he tried to haul in his catch he fumbled and was so slow about it that a small shark, about three feet long, snapped the fish up. Jean reloaded quickly and with unexpected energy sent the arrow deep into the shark’s side. It was a most thoughtless action, for Jean had only one arrow left, and there were nine chances in ten that the shark would break the slender line and disappear with the arrow. While the rest of us watched with our hearts in our mouths, Jean tugged and jerked furiously at the line. Both arrow and line held, and at last the shark lay kicking on the deck. I felt almost relieved when I saw that it was not our faithful companion of several months past. Shark’s flesh is no great delicacy, but we were no longer very particular about our food and cut up Jean’s catch with satisfaction. The pieces which we could not devour at once we carefully dried in the sun in the hope that we might thus be able to keep them for future needs.
The capture of the shark and the business of drying it gave us something to think about, but soon our spirits were as low as ever. A new oppressive factor was the great heat, which dried up all the pores in our bodies and compelled us to dilute our small water rations with greater and greater quantities of sea water.
Now more than ever it seemed that our only chance of saving our lives was to reach Samoa as quickly as possible. It was therefore with helpless fury that during the next few days we saw the wind slowly shift from east to southeast, which gave us an almost due westerly course, no matter how forcibly we put the helm over to starboard. I looked at the chart oftener and oftener, and with increasing anxiety. Our position was a miserable nine degrees south. The Samoan Islands lay spread in a wide arc between the thirteenth and sixteenth degrees of latitude. So if the south-easterly wind continued it was far from certain that we could steer down to them in time. The more unfavourable our course became, the stronger became Jean and Hans’s suspicions that I was not a competent navigator, and on top of all other worries I was now compelled to explain to them daily and hourly why our real positions did not agree with those which they themselves had reached by God knew what methods.
Exactly a week after the first general stock-taking I went through our supplies again and made the not altogether unexpected discovery that we had already finished more than a third of our rice and nearly half our water. Our prospects of reaching land or being rescued by a ship before we died of hunger or thirst suddenly seemed to be infinitesimally small, and I was overcome by mental and physical weariness. What was the use of prolonging our sufferings? Just at that moment, when I felt gloomier than ever, I heard Eric muttering something and I moved a little nearer his box. He had aged a great deal of late and his temperature was always high. He often talked at random during his long, trance-like periods of sleep. Evidently unaware that I heard him, he repeated several times in succession the same despairing prayer:
‘Good God, I don’t care how it ends, if only the end comes quickly.’
I was on the verge of tears and remained seated and half-dazed by Eric’s box. But in some strange manner my desire to live soon welled up again. Perhaps there was no more remarkable explanation for the change in me than the fact that, unlike Eric, I was young and healthy. I pulled myself together and forced myself to reflect coolly and soberly on the problems of our food supply. I had often wondered whether there was not some other way of preparing lentils than cooking them on the gas cooker. But only now did I at last realize that what was wanted was a practical test instead of more head-scratchings. To save my comrades unnecessary disappointment and myself unnecessary disputes I waited till my solitary night watch to make a little experiment. All I did was to put a handful of lentils to soak in a cup of sea water. When I tasted them in secret next morning, they were naturally pretty salty, but soft enough to chew. I was encouraged by this success, but was unwilling to tell my raft-mates anything about my experiment for fear that they would immediately demand that the lentils be shared out.
At last I dared to propose that we should reduce our water ration to two cups each daily. Juanito immediately announced that he would take no more watches if I tried to play him such a shabby trick. This made me fear another stormy scene. But when I saw that Jean and Hans were still too broken to make any serious protest I plucked up courage and told Juanito firmly that in that case I would take his watches as well as my own. He did not reply, and immediately afterwards, when it was his turn, he relieved Jean without objection.
That same night, while I was on watch, it began to rain. I shouted jubilantly to my comrades to come and help me spread a sail to catch it. I had expected that this wonderful news would restore their courage. But only Hans and Juanito at last sat up, and neither of them seemed particularly cheered at this much needed addition to our drinking water. I handed over the steering to Juanito and hastened to cover up our last usable wireless receiver, on which our lives now hung, as it was impossible to make any exact observations without the wireless time signals. At the same time, I took the trouble to bend over Jean to wake him. To my surprise he was already wide awake, but instead of getting up he declared wearily that to collect rain water would only prolong our sufferings unnecessarily, and that he at any rate preferred a speedy death. When I continued my efforts to persuade him he turned his back. We managed very well without his help, and in less than half an hour filled both our ten-gallon tanks and our last three-gallon demijohn, but my pleasure was considerably damped by the new problem created by Jean’s nervous breakdown.
But I soon forgot this problem for another and much more important one. The first welcome shower was quickly followed by a new and much less welcome downpour, which in turn proved to be only the prelude to a violent thunderstorm. A few hours later a regular gale was blowing, and our poor outrigger raft, flung by the waves this way and that like a withered autumn leaf, was creaking in her joints oftener and oftener and more and more ominously. With the raft lying so deep there was also a danger that Eric’s box, with the wireless and our navigation instruments, would be swept away. I hesitated for a very long time before trying to strengthen the lashings, but when one of the floats suddenly came loose I abandoned all timorous inhibitions and jumped in.
Not even at this critical moment did I get any help from my comrades: Jean and Hans looked on indifferently as usual, while Juanito, incredible as it may sound, was fast asleep. As time passed, and I became even colder and wetter, my dislike of this work on the lashings, which had to be done over and over again, gradually disappeared, and at last it was a sheer relief to crawl down into the warm sea and escape for a little while from the torturing wind.
The gale and pouring rain lasted for nearly forty-eight hours, and when at last the weather improved a little in the early morning hours of August 26th, we were all more dead than alive. I felt that a good hot meal would do wonders, and proposed that we should open some of the tins of preserves that constituted our iron rations. My comrades nodded approval with extraordinarily indifferent faces, but when we had gorged ourselves on a big dish of macaroni, garnished with the contents of our two last tins of sausage, and each of us had gulped down his large helping of preserved fruit, their spirits really rose a little. Even Eric, who ate only a few mouthfuls of condensed milk and honey, seemed to be slowly reviving. At any rate, he did not seem any worse than before the storm, which no doubt was mainly because we had carefully covered him up with windproof clothes and a protecting sheet of canvas. Early in the afternoon the sun peeped out again, and when the wind returned after a long interval of dead calm it was no longer south-easterly but north-easterly. Next day our position was as much as 30 miles farther south, and the wind was still just as favourable.
Two of the northern Cook Islands, Manihiki and Rakahanga, now lay right in our course, only about X2
o miles away. As soon as Jean and Hans discovered this, they brightened up and began to talk of our being saved in the near future with the same naive confidence of which they had already given proof twice before, when we were approaching Starbuck and Penrhyn. I shuddered to think how they would react if we missed these islands, too, which we probably would, experience having shown that the wind could not be relied upon. Eric was too tired and ill to be able to give me any advice this time, so I began a kind of dialogue with myself to find out if there really was any way to improve the steering so that we could make a landing on one of these islands even if the wind changed slightly. Having rejected half a dozen impracticable plans one by one, I had at last another, and in my opinion much better, idea, which I hastened to put before my raft-mates:
‘Look here, boys, how about building a Tahiti Nui IV?’
This brief introduction had the intended effect, for my three comrades moved nearer to me at once, and their astonished faces showed plainly that I had sueceeded in arousing their interest. I therefore continued my little address without delay, more or less as follows:
What we need now more than anything is greater mobility and range. We are in the same hole now as a fortnight ago, when Tahiti Nui II was nothing but a wreck which looked like drifting past Starbuck. That time we got out of the hole by building this outrigger raft. So why not do the same thing again and build a still smaller raft, so light that we could paddle her the last bit of the voyage towards the islands, if we see that we’re drifting past?’
We four can certainly stand the hardships, but how will Eric manage, who can’t even endure getting wet?’ Hans objected.
We can’t even take this raft to bits without all tumbling into the water,’ said Jean critically.
I had expected these objections and had my answer ready at once:
What I have in mind is a very primitive paddle raft made of two spars kept together by a few planks, which can serve as seats at the same time. As we’re lucky enough to have a couple of extra spars on board, there’s no need for us to take Tahiti Nui III to pieces. Of course we can’t send Eric ashore on a couple of spars, but that doesn’t matter, for three of us must stay here on board Tahiti Nui III while two of us—I don’t think Tahiti Nui IV will take more—paddle ashore to get help. If those who stay on board get in the sail at the moment when the shore party start, Tahiti Nui III will certainly drift past the island so slowly that the natives will be able to come out with a few big canoes and take them off. If the natives can’t come out, or haven’t big enough canoes, our shore party will save themselves by remaining on the island. As for those who drift on, their provisions will last longer with only two men on board, so they’ll gain something too.’
‘It sounds all right,’ said Juanito. ‘But what’ll happen if the island’s uninhabited?’
‘Then the shore party will have to choose quickly between staying on the island and trying to paddle after Tahiti Nui III.’
Although my plan of escape involved many risks, my comrades at once agreed to try it. It was especially pleasant to see Jean liven up and become himself again. After a long and amicable discussion we agreed that I should stay on board Tahiti Nui III, together with Eric, as I was the only one of us who understood navigation, and that the shore party should consist of Jean and Juanito. By a lucky chance we had taken with us the two paddles which Juanito had once made long ago, when he had wanted to go off alone on his three-cornered raft, and they proved to be of exactly the right length. After we had worked a few nails loose we had no difficulty in fastening the two extra spars together. The preparations had not taken more than an hour in all.
The north-easterly wind continued on August 28th and a good way into August 29th. But at midday on August 29th, immediately after we had learnt with satisfaction that we were thirty miles due east of Rakahanga, it began to shift to easterly again. According to Eric only Manihiki was inhabited. But with the wind we now had it was extremely uncertain whether we would be able to run down to this island, while our chances of making Rakahanga seemed very good. So we unhesitatingly set course for Rakahanga, although we were a tittle farther from it than from the more southerly island. I hung over the compass almost all night and began to make observations as soon as the sun rose on August 30th. These showed that we were still approaching the island, but so slowly that I soon began to fear that we should not get there before nightfall. At 4 p.m. according to my calculations, we had still ten miles to go. So there was no longer any hope of running the raft ashore there in daylight, which made our situation very awkward. We had to choose between three possibilities:
(0 We could try to cruise to and fro off Rakahanga till the sun rose.
(2) We could try to go on to Manihiki.
(3) We could steer straight for Rakahanga and try to land there in the dark.
During the afternoon we had seen to our alarm that we were in the middle of a strong southward current, and that the wind seemed to be veering again. So that if we chose alternatives (1) or (2) we ran a risk of being swept right through the gap between the islands, and this idea we found so intolerable that we resolved almost without discussion to go right in towards Rakahanga. We also decided unanimously to open our last tins of preserves at once and so strengthen ourselves for the hardships to come. As soon as we had filled our stomachs we emptied the water tanks and stowed our few personal belongings in them. Then we threw all heavy, bulky objects overboard.
While we were making these preparations I heard Eric, who had insisted on our helping him to sit up so that he should be able to keep a look out, muttering something about the navigation, as though dissatisfied. At last I became a little uneasy myself and did the calculation for my last observation over again. It was correct. We had really been ten miles east of Rakahanga at 4 p.m., so we ought to see the island soon.
The great moment came at exactly 5:15 p.m., and it was Eric who first saw the dark line of palms on the horizon, showing that I had navigated correctly. I contented myself with pressing Eric’s hand in silence, and Juanito also took the great discovery very calmly, while Jean and Hans yelled and laughed like madmen. It grew dark immediately after six, and we suddenly felt ourselves cruelly consigned to oblivion and annihilation. But this time Providence was unusually kind to us, for at about eight a round, full moon rose swiftly out of the sea and restored our sight. As far as I could judge, we were now one sea mile at most from the island, and below the dark line of the coconut palms a white line of foaming breakers could now be clearly seen. I passed the steering oar to Juanito and took up a position in the bows to get a closer sight of the breakers. I knew from my time as a seaman in copra schooners in French Polynesia that there are often gaps here and there in the reef which surrounds a coral island. If only I could find such a gap we should have a better chance of escaping alive from the dangerous adventure which a stranding on the weather side of a coral island must always be.
When we came so near that we could hear the loud roaring of the breakers, for want of a better drogue we pushed the two spars, which a few days before we had audaciously christened Tahiti Nui IV, into the water and tied them astern of the raft with a rope. This, as we intended, put a further slight brake on our speed, and also prevented the raft from turning round.
About the same time Eric, to my alarm, expressed a wish to sit on the top of his box. This seemed to me to be quite the most dangerous place on board, as the box was fastened to the crossbeams with only a few nails. And so, instead, he sat aft between Jean and Hans. With Juanito still at the steering oar and myself as look-out in the bows, we slowly approached the high breakers. To my disappointment I was unable to detect any gaps in the reef, but I consoled myself with the reflection that at any rate it seemed to be high tide. There was therefore a good chance that the raft would slide up on to the reef without being crushed, which is the usual consequence of running on to a reef at low water.
When we were only a few yards away I hastily sprang across to the stem. Eric was still si
tting between Jean and Hans and had put his arms round their necks for safety. The thundering of the surf was now so loud that we could no longer make ourselves heard, but Eric smiled at me with an expression of relief and triumph on his emaciated face which was more eloquent than many words. I glanced at my watch. It was a few minutes to nine. Immediately afterwards I felt the stern lifted up and the raft tipped over forward. After that I do not know just what happened, but I came up to the surface again with an aching head, and my poor lungs were at last able to inhale a little air.
The first of my comrades whom I saw was Juanito, who was standing up to his waist in the water on a coral block a little nearer the shore. Then the heads of Jean and Hans appeared, dangerously close to a drum which was bobbing about. Only Eric was missing. It occurred to me that he might have been caught under the upset raft. I dived down and groped along the logs, feeling hopeful and frightened at the same time; but as I came again to the surface I saw Eric’s skinny form close beside the raft. I was with him in a few seconds and caught him under the arms. It was terribly hard to keep his face above water because of the waves, but Jean quickly came to my help: we both got astride a row of floats and at last succeeded in hauling Eric up out of the water. It was only when we began to take off some of his heavy, waterlogged clothes that it occurred to me how foolish we had been not to undress him before we reached the breakers. Even a strong man and a swimmer would certainly have gone to the bottom at once if he wore so many clothes, and poor Eric was weak and ill and a non-swimmer into the bargain. Time after time the words ‘too late’ rang in my head.
From Raft to Raft Page 19