A sad cheer rose from the poor fellows’ throats, and solemnly the captain, raising his eyes to heaven, uttered a brief appeal to God for himself and his crew—an appeal fervently repeated by each man. Then one and all sought some spar or other to which to attach himself, and thus await death; for there was little chance that any there would survive to take home those last solemn farewells.
One by one I saw my companions borne overboard by the giant waves till I grew sick at the thought that my turn would be the next. But not yet—the brave captain went first. Then, suddenly, death seemed to seize me—the sea was all about me—its horrible rushing was in my ears, and I felt sinking—sinking to the very bottom of the ocean. I believe for the moment I lost consciousness; but when I came to, I was again on the surface of the waters, rising like a cork upon the waves.
So I floated here and there for, it appeared to me, hours—though it could not have been one—alone on the ocean—alone, for all I knew; for, as far as I could see, when on the top of some great billow, not a vestige of the fine ship, or her crew, was in sight.
Abruptly, almost as abruptly as it had risen, the hurricane began to abate. As it did so, I became aware of the sound, so well known to sailors, of breakers in the direction to which I was driving head first. In vain I strove to turn, to ascertain whether the breakers to which I was evidently hastening were created by rocks above or below the surface. If the former, with such a surf running, I must assuredly be dashed to pieces. But all I could see was a vast expanse of white boiling foam, into the midst of which the next wave flung me, to be tossed among a mass of sharp pointed rocks. Existence here would have been of short duration had not another billow, more kind than the first, raised me in its arms and thrown me over the reef into comparatively calm water. A few seconds after I fancied my feet touched land. I waited anxiously for the next wave. Yes—land it was, and oh, thank Heaven! the tide was running in.
Releasing one of my arms, I strove to aid my progress; but, as if wearied of its terrible play, the ocean at last cast me, rolling over and over, on to a sandy beach. Fearful that it might repent of its kindness, and drag me back again, I managed to free myself entirely from the spar. Then, faint and staggering—for, besides my exertions, the jagged rocks had inflicted many bruises on my person—I crawled far up the beach, till my hand, touching some plant that I knew by its fresh dryness had never been covered by the salt sea, assured me I was safe; then I sank down insensible, utterly ignorant, nor at the moment caring, upon what portion of the African coast I had been thrown.
Chapter Three.
Companions in Trouble—A Surprise.
It was, as far as I could calculate, some three hours after sunrise, before I returned to consciousness, to find myself weak and in some little pain from the bruises occasioned by the reefs, among which the sea had so unmercilessly tossed me.