After arriving back to my first position I pointed the boat towards the sandy beach, and when the hanging shelves touched the bottom I carefully removed them and their weights to the top of the tanks, in the interior, and, with a short pole, pushed the boat still nearer the shore, till the tanks rested on the sand; and this I did with care and quickly, for I was a little afraid of a capsize when the hanging shelves were removed, which was only for a moment or two, however, before the boat was at rest on its own foundations, on the sand. I then forced down under the water from the interior quite a large block of wood under the tank that had the water pipe protruding, so that the latter should not be hurt by being driven into the sand when the whole boat was stranded at low water.
The tide being now at ebb, I knew that I had not long to wait before the whole boat would be high and dry upon the sand. But having gotten my piece of timber under the tank to protect the water pipe, I opened the atmospheric pipe and let the whole boat sink solidly to the bottom, in all its parts, as well as the forward part that was resting on the sand. I then cautiously opened the manhole, ready to close it immediately should it yet be below the surface; but, as I supposed, it was out of the water at least six inches, and, throwing it open, I once again emerged into the open air of day.
I released the goats and carried them on shore, and as the tide receded all the water left my tanks through the water pipe, which I then closed, and there was my boat as buoyant again as when it was first launched, with all the tanks full of air, and ready to be towed to an anchorage as soon as the next incoming tide should float it.
I lay down upon the sea-side and contemplated my work, and wondered if it would not make me a rich man if I could transport it to some civilized portion of the earth. Was it possible for me to make a boat of this kind on a large scale, with a team of goats, fifteen or twenty in number, and traverse the depths of the ocean till I arrived at some Christian land? One thing at least was in its favor: I need fear no storms or any dangers of the ocean from waves or wind, and one other great obstacle would be overcome. I could leave the helm at any time and go to sleep, feeling sure that my boat would not be driven about by waves and winds, but repose peacefully in eqilibrio till I again awoke, and forced it forward upon its passage.
There was matter for great thought in all this. But on the other hand, should my air fail me, or my tanks leak, or steering apparatus get out of order, I should either be stifled to death, drowned, or left beneath the ocean to wear out a miserable existence till death relieved me. The risk was too great. Besides I had no means but a compass of ascertaining where I was going, no glass lens to give me any light; but perhaps I might possibly make the latter. It was all well enough for me to venture out from my island where at the worst I could escape and swim ashore; and, if the truth must be spoken, I found myself too much in love with my island, and all its comforts, to hazard too much to escape from it. I cannot say that I did not long and long to escape, and that I did not mourn for companionship; but I must also confess that I had begun to love my island home also, in one sense, and I could see far enough ahead now into the future to acknowledge to myself that, should I escape, it would be only to return with companions to here end my days.
These were different feelings than what I had when first cast on the island, as will readily be perceived by perusal of this manuscript, if ever, by the mercy of God, it comes to anybody's hands to read. But what could I—an old sailor, but not an old man, who had banged around the world—ask for more than I could obtain on my island except companionship? Nothing.
Having secured the boat, and put the goats and spare traps into the canoe, I at the close of the day paddled myself back to the Hermitage, determined on the morrow to make an excursion out of Stillwater Cove into the ocean, and see what I could discover. To be doubly secure I made up my mind to tow the canoe with a long rope of rawhide on the surface of the water, astern of the submarine boat below it, so that if I did meet with disaster or shipwreck I could get into the former and make my way to the shore in safety,—in fact this arrangement would take away all danger from the enterprise, as I felt confident that I could always escape from the boat, and it would be well worth while to have the canoe at hand to jump into, if I had to do so.