Читать книгу The Boy Tar - Reid Mayne - Страница 10

My belief now was, that my life was in peril – nay, rather, that death was almost certain. My hopes of being rescued on that day were but slight from the first, but now they were slighter than ever. The tide would be back long before night. In a few hours it would be at its flood, and that would be the end. Should people go in search of me before 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 for me.

The mixed feeling of horror and despair that came over me, held me for a long 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 only gazed upon the blank surface of the sea, at intervals turning from one side to the other, and helplessly regarding the waves. There was neither sail nor boat in sight; nothing to relieve the dreary monotony, but here and there the white wings of the gulls, flapping about at their leisure. They no longer continued to annoy me with their screaming, though, now and then, an odd one would return and fly very near; as if wondering what I was doing in such a place, and whether I did not mean to go away from it.

From this state of gloomy despair I was aroused by a gleam of hope. My eyes had fallen upon the signal-staff, the sight of which had so lately caused me a feeling of the opposite kind; and then the thought rushed into 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 there remain 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 find safety.

It was only a question of climbing up the staff; but that seemed easy enough. 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: I should yet live to laugh at it.

Buoyed up with this belief, I once more approached the staff, with the intention of climbing up. I did not intend going up to remain. I thought it would be time enough when my footing failed me below; it was only to make sure that I should be able to climb the pole when the hour of necessity arrived.

I found it more difficult than I had anticipated, especially in getting up the first six feet. This portion of the staff was coated over with some slimy substance – the same that covered the rocks around – and this rendered it as slippery as one of the greased poles that I had seen at merry-makings in our village.

It cost me several attempts and failures before I could get above the watermark; but the rest was more easy, and I soon reached the top of the staff.

I stretched my hand upward to seize hold of the barrel, and draw myself up upon it, congratulating myself that I had been able to accomplish my object, when a change came suddenly over my feelings, and I was once more plunged into despair.

My arm was too short to reach the upper rim of the cask. I could only touch 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 similar result. It was to no purpose. Stretch my arms as I would, and wriggle my limbs as I might, I could not get my body higher than the point where the staff was set, and could only extend my hand half-way up the rounded swell of the cask. Of course I could not keep there, as there was nothing to rest my weight upon, and I was forced to glide back to the ground.

It was with a feeling of renewed alarm, then, that I made this discovery, but I did not as before yield myself up to despair. Perhaps my wits were quickened by the peril that was fast approaching me. At all events, I kept my senses about me, and set to considering what was best to be done.

If I had only been in possession of a knife, I might have cut notches in the 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 I not raise a resting-place from below? Why not make a platform by building stones around the post, until they had reached above watermark, and then stand upon these? The very thing itself. A few stones, I had noticed already, were piled around the base, no doubt placed there to make 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 in setting about carrying it into effect. There were plenty of loose boulders lying over the reef, and I supposed that in a few minutes I could heap up enough of them to serve the purpose; but I had not worked long before I perceived that the job would occupy me longer than I had anticipated. The stones were slippery, and this hindered me greatly in carrying them – some were too heavy for me, and others that I had supposed to be loose, I found to be half buried in sand, and held so fast that I could not draw them out.

Notwithstanding these impediments, I worked on with all the strength and energy I could command. I knew that in time I could raise the cairn as high as required, but time had now become the all-engrossing subject of my thoughts.

The tide had long since turned; it was rising; slowly and continuously it was lipping nearer and nearer – slowly but with certainty was it coming; and I perceived all this!

I had many a fall, as I scrambled to and fro; and my knees were bleeding from contact with the hard stones; but these were not matters to grieve about, nor was it a time to give way to hardships, however painful to endure. A far greater hardship threatened – the loss of life itself – and I 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 had yet 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 with high-water mark; and to accomplish this I slaved away without thinking of a moment’s rest. The work as it went on became more difficult. The loose stones that lay near had all been used, and I was obliged to go far out on the reef to procure others. This led to a great many severe falls, in which both my hands and knees were badly bruised; besides, it prevented me from making rapid progress. There was another cause that delayed me. At the height of four feet the pile was on a level with the crown of my head, and it was with difficulty I could place the stones higher up. Each one occupied me for minutes, and sometimes a heavy boulder 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 work was brought to a termination. Not that it was done – far from it. Unfortunately, it was not terminated, but interrupted. What interrupted 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 to cover the stones, seemed to rush over them all at once. It did not recoil, as I have often seen it do upon the beach. There it flows in gradually, wave after wave; but upon the reef – the surface of which was nearly of equal height – the water, at the first rush, swept all over the rocks, and was soon of a considerable depth.

I did not leave off my exertions until long after the rocks were covered. I worked until I was knee deep in water, bending down to the surface, almost diving under it, detaching great stones from their bed, and carrying them in my arms towards the pile. I toiled away, with the spray spitting in my face, and sometimes great sheets of it breaking over my body, until I feared it would drown me – toiled on till the water grew so deep and the sea so strong, that I could not longer keep my footing upon the rocks; and then, half-wading, half-swimming, I brought my last stone to the heap, and hoisted it up. Climbing after, I stood upon the highest point of the battery I had erected, with my right arm closely hugging the shaft of the signal. In this attitude, and with trembling heart, I watched the inflow of the tide.