Camp Fire Yarns of the Lost Legion

by G. Hamilton-Browne

The following morning at daylight I started for Picton in a boat, accompanied by one of the partners and four of the extra hands, all of whom were what is known as suffering a recovery, which means they were very ill from the effects of the previous night’s debauch. I had roused them up, got the boat out, and we started on as lovely a morning as I ever saw in my life. My crew, very ill and sulky, lay down in the bottom of the boat, a roomy craft of about twenty-three feet in length, and tried to sleep.

Well, we made our offing, the sun rose very hot and the wind died away. It was by this time slack water, and, as the men refused to pull an oar, we lay motionless. Suddenly I noticed the day darken and the mountains of Arapawa Island covered with a dense black cloud that was rolling rapidly down them, and knew in a moment we were in for a southerly buster.

The air grew rapidly colder, and I shouted to the men to get up and shorten sail; but they would not move. I saw what resembled a dense cloud of dust raised off a very dry road in summer-time coming at us. In a moment it was on us; it was a spray torn from the sea by the force of the squall, and it stung and blinded me. As the squall struck us broadside on, it simply sunk us, turning us over at the same time.

I stuck to the tiller until the boat turned turtle, when I was, of course, thrown out, and was swimming at her stern as the keel rose from the water. The boat had a very deep false keel, and I saw that everyone had got hold of it. Just as the squall was thinning the boat rolled over and righted herself, and in the lull I shouted to the men to leave go their hold on the gunwale and join me, so that we could try and swing the stern to the wind, when perhaps one man could get in and bail her out. But they would not listen. They all tried to scramble into her at once, and over she went again. This happened twice, and I could not get the men to obey me, or try to do anything to save themselves. They all seemed to be mad with fright; one even kicked savagely at me as I tried to get him to leave go his hold on the keel. I saw the only chance to save my own and their lives was to try to swim ashore, and get help and another boat from the station.

I had at least two miles to swim; and that in the teeth of a southerly buster, which I could see was now coming on in full force. I was dressed only in a thin flannel shirt and trousers; the latter I easily tore off, but I determined to keep on my canvas shoes, as I would have a long run round the beach to get to the house—that is to say, if I ever got on shore. This was very problematical, as not only had I the gale to contend against, but I knew the bay and sound swarmed with sharks; and the evening before I had sat on a rock and shot at the brutes as they were tearing to pieces the bodies of a lot of old and worthless sheep that had been killed and thrown into the sea.

Well, the sharks would have their chance at me now, and turn and turn about is only fair play. In tearing my trousers off I sank a bit, and on coming up I shouted to the men I would try to bring them help, and started. Just then down came the true gale. The wind rushing through the tops of the mountains struck the water as if forced through a funnel, and tore it into foam and spray, which not only blinded me, but simply drove me under the water, and I quickly saw I must dodge the fierce blasts by diving. I was a very powerful swimmer and had the lungs and wind of an ostrich, so that, whenever I saw a cloud of water dust coming at me, down I went and swam under water for all I was worth. Then, when I had to come up for air, if there was a lull in between the squalls, I would strike out with a good long side-stroke, and make all the way I could.

This sort of thing went on for a long time, and I thought of and used every dodge I had ever learned or heard of to save my strength and use it to the very best advantage. My long experience in scouting and despatch-riding had trained me to think quickly and to act decisively. I was as cool as a cucumber and as hopeful as a boy setting out to rob an orchard. The water was warm. I was in splendid fettle, and I had a wild feeling of elation, as I dodged the squalls, that was simply grand, although my eyes ached and smarted with the spray. If it had not been for the danger of my helpless mates I should have simply revelled in my struggle against the elements. As I rose for air, during a lull, I took a good look at the land, and was surprised at the very rapid progress I was making.

For a minute I could not understand it. I was certainly drawing more under the lee of the land, and the squalls were not so fierce as at the first start, but still I was quite a mile off, and they were bad enough; but all at once I understood what was befriending me; it was the tide.

It had been slack water when the accident had happened, and the tide had turned and was simply helping me all it knew; now I felt certain of getting ashore, bar accidents. Yet, bar accidents, I was all right; but there were other things also, as I quickly discovered, for when I determined it was no longer necessary for me to dodge the squalls, and had settled down to a long, steady side-stroke, I glanced to my right, and there, not thirty feet from me, was a long, triangular fin sticking out of the water, which I knew belonged to a shark of the largest size. Instinctively I turned to the left. There was another one; and as I raised myself in the water and looked astern of me, there was a third.

To say I was in a funk is not to tell the truth; funk does not fully describe my feelings. I knew what funk was; I had been in a funk before, plenty of times. I had been in many a tight and hot corner before. I had often looked at what might be certain death, but then I had weapons in my hand and the prospect of a good fight before I went under; but now I was helpless. There was to be no fight, there could be no fight. I had not even a knife, and had I possessed one I was outnumbered and outclassed.