West Wind Drift

by George Barr McCutcheon

Withdrawing her warm hand from his pocket she turned and walked swiftly away.

The throng on board the Doraine watched the party land; hats and handkerchiefs were waved as the adventurers turned for a last look behind, before they disappeared into the forest.

Hours passed,—long interminable hours for those who were not engaged in the active preparations for the landing of people and stores. Captain Trigger was making ready to transfer the passengers from the ship at the earliest possible moment. He was far from certain that the Doraine would maintain its rather precarious balance on the rocks. With safety not much more than a stone's throw away, he was determined to take no further risk.

At last a shout went up from some one on the forecastle deck. It was taken up by eager voices. Out upon the bald crest of the mountain straggled the first of the explorers to reach the goal. They were plainly visible. One after another the rest of the party appeared. The illusion was startling. It was as if they had actually emerged from the tree-tops. With straining eyes the observers below watched the group of figures outlined against the sky. They spoke in subdued tones. As time went on and the flag was not unfurled, they took hope; eyes brightened, the hushed tones increased to a cheerful, excited clatter, the tenseness that had held them rigid for so long gave way before the growing conviction that another flag already fluttered somewhere beyond the screening hills.

And then, when hope was highest, the Stars and Stripes went up!

Captain Trigger assembled the ship's company on the forward deck later in the day. The landing party returned about three o'clock. Acting on advance instructions, they made their report in private to the Captain, denying all information to the clamorous passengers. A brief conference of officers, to which a number of men from the first cabin were invited, was held immediately after Percival's return. A course of action was discussed and agreed upon, and then all on board were summoned to the open deck to hear the result of the expedition.

Percival reported the following facts and conclusions:

1. The island was approximately fifteen miles long and six or seven miles wide in the centre. The basin in which the Doraine rested was about midway between the extreme points, and about two miles inland from the northern shore. The southern slope of the range descended to a flat plain, or perhaps moor, some two miles across at its broadest point and ran in varying width from one end of the island to the other. It was green and almost entirely devoid of timber. The central eminence from which the observations were taken was the loftiest of a range of ten or twelve diminishing hills that formed what might actually be described as the backbone of the island. The eastern extremity tapered off to a long, level, low-lying promontory that ended in a point so sharp and wedge-like that it bore a singular resemblance to the forward deck and prow of a huge ironclad. The hills, as they approached the plateau, terminated altogether a couple of miles from the tip of land. The western half of the island (strictly speaking, it was a separate bit of land, cut off from its neighbour by the ribbon-like channel), was of a more rugged character, the hills, in fact, extending to the sea, forming, no doubt, steep and precipitous cliffs, rising directly from the water's edge.

(Since his return, Percival had painted on a large piece of canvas a fairly accurate outline map of the bisected island as it had appeared to him from the top of the mountain. This crude map was hung up in full view of the spectators, and served him well in an effort to make clear his deductions. His original sketch is reproduced later on in this chronicle.)

2. There was no visible sign of past or present human habitation. Absolutely nothing appeared to indicate that man had ever attempted to claim or occupy this virgin land.