They both went early to bed, and just as Philip was falling asleep the thought entered his mind that it needed only two or three days like that which had just passed for the two of them, compulsorily confined together as they were, to reach such a degree of hatred that one of them would murder the other. And Gloria, lying only a few feet away from him, was thinking exactly the same thing.
It was perhaps the naturally extreme antithesis for the equally unreasoning passion which they had shown for each other the previous night. But neither of them could be expected to recognise that; all they could do was to hope that something would occur to break the ghastly tension which it was beyond their powers to break for themselves.
Something did happen. They awakened the following morning to find that, after a journey of nearly five months, the raft had beached itself during the night on the shores of Africa.
10
The Horror that Lurked on the Foreshore
Gloria woke first, and her excited cry roused Philip. From the observations which he took every few days he knew that for some time they had been drifting almost parallel with the northwestern coast of Africa and between forty and fifty miles from it; but he had not checked their position since Christmas Eve, and it was now December the 27th. In the past three days a current must have carried them shorewards, and the fact that they had not seen any coastline on the horizon the previous evening was accounted for by its lowness.
For as far as they could see on either side the foreshore sloped gently upwards to a ridge of low sand-dunes which were unbroken by any signs of human habitation or even a group of palm trees. It was very far from being the kind of landfall of which they had dreamed so often, but after all these weeks afloat the fact of the raft having beached itself was a tremendous event.
It had grounded on a spit of sand and, now that the tide was rapidly running out, had begun to tilt a little. There were still a hundred yards of gently lapping wavelets between the raft and the beach, but the water was both clear and shallow. On a common impulse Gloria and Philip slipped over the side and splashed ashore.
Shouting and laughing they ran side by side along the beach, then up the nearest sand-dune to its crest. The prospect was not by any means alluring. It was just sand-dunes and yet more sand-dunes until the yellow distance melted into the pale blue of the early morning sky.
‘What a mighty lonely spot,’ said Gloria in a hushed voice, when she had regained her breath. ‘What part of Africa would we be in, Boy?’
‘This is Rio de Oro,’ replied Philip, ‘and it belongs to Spain. The Sahara Desert runs right up to the sea here. In fact, thousands of years ago, when the Atlantic was quite a bit higher than it is now, the whole of the Sahara was a great inland sea joined to the ocean, and this strip of coast was part of the sea bottom. That’s why it’s one of the most desolate spots in the world.’
‘How far does this empty bit go?’ asked Gloria.
‘Rio de Oro stretches for about eight hundred to a thousand miles, and to the south of it there’s another six hundred miles of the French West African coast which is much the same. The nearest fertile country is Morocco to the north and Senegal to the south.’
‘But doesn’t anyone live in these parts at all?’
‘Oh yes. There are a few small towns and villages dotted along the coast. It may mean a day or two’s walking but we’re bound to strike human habitations sooner or later.’
‘The Saints be praised for that!’ sighed Gloria with relief. ‘But, d’you know, I’m feeling slightly seasick?’
‘Yes. The ground seems to be going up and down, doesn’t it?’ Philip laughed. ‘It’s only because we’ve been afloat so long. We’ll soon get used to it again.’
They returned to the raft for breakfast and afterwards studied Philip’s atlas. Gloria was appalled to see that in the irregular triangle of yellow marked Rio de Oro only two places were shown: Kedda, about a third of the way down it and about thirty miles inland, and Villa Cisneros, a port considerably nearer to its southern border. Philip said he thought that they had landed somewhere to the south of Cape Bojador.
The observation that he took proved him to be correct and he worked out that they were about a hundred and twenty miles from Kedda. The sun was now scorching down on them and, as Philip pointed out, they would be mad to undertake a march of that distance in such terrific heat without very careful preparation.
They were too excited to sleep, but rested in the shade during the afternoon and carried a picnic supper ashore in the evening. During their weeks at sea they had seen many fine sunsets but few to equal the glory of the one they watched from the African shore that evening. Soon after the sun had gone down, however, they were startled by an uncanny rustling and clicking in a patch of large bleached conch shells near which they were sitting.
Philip flashed his torch on the patch, and they were alarmed to see among the white shells a score of black, spidery-looking bodies. It was a company of land-crabs which had evidently been attracted by the picnic meal.
At the sight of them Gloria screamed, but the crabs did not scuttle away either at the sound or at the flashing of the light. They remained there motionless, staring with a quiet menace. Then, after a moment, some of the nearest ones began to advance, making swift little rushes forward.
‘Quick!’ gasped Gloria. ‘Back to the raft, Boy! Back to the raft!’ And she fled down the shelving beach into the water.
Philip remained only long enough to grab up the picnic things before following her; and, as he ran, it filled him with considerable perturbation to think that the difficulties of their journey along the coast would be enormously increased if each night they had to protect their stores—and perhaps themselves—from similar companies of big crabs.
On the following day the preparations for the trek to Kedda, or any village in that direction, were begun, and the work entailed was considerable.
From some of the sails they fashioned a simple low tent, to shelter them from the blistering sun during the midday heat, and two large knapsacks in which to carry their supplies. Then they had to make a careful selection of foods combining nutritious value with lightness of weight, and to distil an extra quantity of fresh water. At last everything was ready, and early on the morning of January the 1st, 1940, they took a last look round the raft, every corner of which they had come to know so well, and went ashore.
The going was not easy as the additional weight of the heavy packs seemed to make their feet sink into the soft sand, and every now and again they had to cross a patch of broken conch shells, which meant that they had to pick their way in order to avoid stumbling or bruising their feet.
From ten o’clock until three in the afternoon they rested, blessing the forethought which had led them to provide them selves with a tent, then went on again till eight o’clock, when they called a halt for supper and the night.
With occasional intervals for rest they had been on the move the best part of eight hours, and, in spite of the modest pace forced upon them by the sand, Philip felt that they must have covered twenty miles at least. Yet all day they had come across no sign of human habitation. Mile after mile of the same flat, sandy coastline had opened up before them as they rounded the headland of each long shallow bay, and only on three occasions had the prospect been enlivened by groups of stunted palms clinging precariously to life among the sand-dunes.
Unaccustomed as they were to any exercise other than swimming, they found that the long trudge had played havoc with the muscles of their legs; but once they were able to unload their packs the very thought that they were not going any further that night temporarily dissipated their tiredness, and as the sun was going down they cheerfully set about the preparations for their evening meal. Yet they were only halfway through their supper when the thing that Philip had been fearing happened; he caught the sinister click and rustle that told him as plainly as if he could see them that some land-crabs were coming out of their holes.
Gloria caught the soun
d too and turned a white face towards him. ‘What’s that?’ she asked sharply, although she already knew.
‘It’s some more of those beastly crabs,’ he said, striving to keep out of his voice the uneasiness he was feeling. ‘They won’t do us any harm. It’s the food they’re after. I think we’d better move camp further inland.’
Collecting their things as quickly as they could they trudged up the slope to the top of the nearest sand-dune and, before bothering to re-erect the tent, sat down to finish their meal.
To their annoyance and alarm the respite proved to be a brief one. Within ten minutes of their settling down the clicking sound, which Philip thought must be made by the knocking together of the crabs’ long shell-encased legs, came again from the seaward slope of the dune.
As Gloria stood up Philip signed to her to stay where she was, and grabbing a thick piece of wood that they used for the main strut of the tent he advanced to the brow of the hill. For the past half-hour night had been coming down, and the rapidity with which it descends in the tropics had left just enough light for him to make out twenty or thirty of the creatures coming up the slope towards him.
The instant they saw him they halted with the precision of well-trained troops at a given word of command, but after a moment first one then another began to come forward again in little furtive rushes. Hoping to scare them off, Philip ran forward and slashed at the nearest of them with the thick stick he was carrying, but the brute dodged the blow with cat-like agility. Meantime the others had all halted once more, but as soon as he ceased his futile blows they came on again, passing out of range of his blows to either side of him.
‘Boy! Oh quickly! Help!’ came a cry from Gloria, and hurrying back to her he found that she was standing between the haversacks and that eight or ten of the crabs had formed a half-circle within four or five feet of her.
They were repulsive beasts, very much like great spiders, nearly a foot in height and considerably more across. Their bodies were small but their legs were long and very hairy, with sharp, dagger-pointed claws. As they crouched there, they remained quite still, except for their mouths which moved continually with a kind of slobbering twitching.
Rushing at them with his stick, Philip drove them from in front of Gloria, but only for them to form up in a series of furtive sidlings behind her, while another dozen or more came scrambling over the brow of the slope to fill the gap he had made. A few more minutes and they were completely encircled by a ring of thirty crabs at least, and others were still appearing out of the surrounding gloom.
‘We must go further inland,’ muttered Philip. ‘They won’t follow us there. They’re filthy-looking brutes but there’s nothing to be frightened of.’
Picking up his things he began to strike out at the crabs again, and they gave back as he moved forward; while Gloria, carrying the other haversack, followed close upon his heels. As they advanced the number of crabs in front of them decreased, but only to swell the ranks of those behind and on either side of them until there was no longer anything left to strike at, and they were walking across the sand-dunes accompanied by a sickle-moon-shaped phalanx of the crabs that stopped when they stopped and advanced when they advanced, keeping in perfect time with them.
‘What—what’ll we do?’ whispered Gloria in a scared voice, after they had covered the best part of a mile. ‘I’m scared, Boy, and I’m tired. I’m so tired I could drop.’
‘I know. I’m tired, too,’ Philip agreed. ‘But I feel certain the brutes won’t go more than a certain distance from shore. D’you think you can make another mile?’
‘Yeah, I’ll make it somehow,’ she muttered.
They trudged on for a further twenty minutes, then Gloria suddenly pulled up short. ‘It doesn’t seem to be working out,’ she said, casting a frightened glance over her shoulder. ‘There’s just as many of them following us as ever.’
Philip halted beside her. ‘If we could go on walking away from the coast long enough I know we’d shake them off, but the trouble is that I daren’t go too far inland in case when we wake up tomorrow we find that we’re lost in the desert.’
‘A lot I’d care if only I could sit down some place where these things couldn’t get at me.’
‘They won’t attack us—it’s the food they’re after.’
‘Well, they’ll get it when we’re so tired that we just have to quit walking; an’ maybe they’ll go for us too, then.’
That was just what Philip had been thinking. He knew nothing of the habits of the African land-crab, but he remembered hearing stories of shipwrecked sailors having been attacked in their sleep and eaten by land-crabs in some of the Pacific islands.
‘Perhaps we’d better give them the food, then,’ he said after a moment, ‘but we haven’t got anything like enough loose food to satisfy this lot—nearly everything we’ve got is in tins.’
‘You’ll have to keep them off with your stick while I’ll be diggin’ a hole in each of the tins with the opener. If they can smell the food they’ll worry the tins with those long spikey claws until they’ve got out every morsel.’
‘That’s the idea, and the longer it takes them to get the food out the better. You realise though that if we give these devils all our food we’ll never be able to reach Kedda without assistance? Neither of us is up to marching a hundred miles on nothing but water.’
‘Sure; but we could go on for another day and maybe we’d come upon a village.’
The crabs had now formed a thick, rustling, clicking circle round them, and it seemed to undulate with a peculiar life of its own as Philip lunged forward with his stick.
Without more ado they set down the packs and, while Gloria crouched at Philip’s feet, fear lending speed and strength to her fingers as she jabbed the opener into tin after tin, he moved round and round her, swiping at the more daring of the brutes as they pressed forward, and throwing out each of the tins as she handed them to him at the spot where the crush of crabs seemed densest.
As they worked he talked all the time, partly with the idea of trying to keep Gloria’s mind occupied and partly to sort out his own thoughts as to what was the best thing to do. His conclusion was that as soon as most of the crabs were occupied they should break out of the ring with any food they had left. But the problem was: which way to run? He decided, since they had no idea how far the crabs might follow them inland, that it would be best to get back to the beach. Land-crabs, he believed, did not go into the sea; so, if necessary, they could throw them off by wading out into the shallow water.
The starlight was now sufficiently bright for them to see the results of their appeasement measure. Each thing they had thrown out was instantly pounced upon by a number of the crabs, but apparently the brutes were endowed with sufficient intelligence to realise that there was more stuff in the knapsacks, and the bulk of them seemed content to wait until something was thrown near enough for them to be fairly sure of getting at it before it was submerged under the hard, hairy bodies of some of their companions. In consequence, Gloria had nearly used up her supplies before even half the crabs had been given something to occupy them.
As soon as Philip realised the situation he said: ‘Save what’s left and we’ll make a break for the beach. If they come after us we can throw the rest of the things out as we go, to delay them.’
‘Give me a minute now, to stab holes in the rest of the tins,’ said Gloria quickly. ‘Then, when I say the word, we’ll go.’
They managed the break-out as the crabs drew back immediately Philip began to thrash about with his big stick; but, as he had feared, all of them that were not busy eating came clicking and rustling on their heels.
For the first half-mile they ran, but within two minutes of dropping into a walk the crabs caught up with them, so they began to throw out the rest of their supplies. These were soon exhausted but provided them with a spell which enabled them to run on again. When next the crabs caught up with them Gloria started to throw all the other things out of her
knapsack, regardless of their future value.
‘Steady on!’ cried Philip, as he saw one of their precious water containers crash on the scaly form of one of the great spider like creatures. ‘If you do that there’ll be no going on tomorrow.’
‘Who cares!’ she sobbed. ‘They’ll eat us if we can’t get clear. I know they will!’
Philip had an uneasy feeling that she was not just giving way to panic, but was right. The crabs might not be bold enough to attack them so long as they were able to remain on their feet, and put up a fight, but would do so the moment they sat down or showed any signs of exhaustion. Throwing out the food had greatly reduced their numbers, and a few more remained behind to tear at each of the things that Gloria was now sacrificing, so he began to follow her example.
By the time they reached the beach all their water bottles, utensils, torches and other impedimenta, including the two haversacks and the tent, had gone; but they were at least now free of their encumbrances and not more than a dozen crabs were still grimly sticking to the chase. For the past ten minutes they had been alternating between a fast walk and a jog-trot. Now, by making a final effort, they left the remaining crabs well behind and, after running a last quarter of a mile southward along the shore, turned west to splash out through the shallow water until it was up to their knees.
For the best part of an hour they stood there supporting themselves first on one foot and then on the other; miserable, dejected and so tired that they could have cried. Yet they did not dare to wade ashore.
A million stars twinkled brightly in the velvet sky overhead, but their light was not enough to show the beach clearly at that distance, and many patches of shadow might be hiding groups of their repulsive and terrifying enemies. The only sound was the murmur of the great combers on a reef further out, on which the ceaseless Atlantic swell broke its force before lapping the foreshore. Every muscle of their bodies ached and their legs seemed about to fail under them. Their anger and despondency were further increased by the knowledge that they had had their journey for nothing. Having abandoned their water bottles they could not now go on the next day; instead, they were faced with a long and tiring trek back to the raft.
The Man who Missed the War Page 19