But the water was not due to rise before the next afternoon. Therefore it behoved me to muster my energy, clench my teeth, and try to get the better of the mud. I slipped off my stockings, turned up my trousers as high as I could, then I placed the thwarts and the oars close to each other on the seething and gurgling ooze, used the boat-hook as a leaping-pole by placing its point on a board, stood on the gunwale, and, gathering all my strength to a mighty effort, I vaulted into space—but lay, alas, the next moment 3 feet short of the wall, and sank deep over knee into the clammy slush, touching hard bottom, however, as I did so. Now I worked myself along the wall, placed my boat-hook as a climbing-pole against it, and found myself in a few seconds on top, after which I slid into the grass of the park, where a few hours previously I had been listening to the music. Unbroken silence reigned around me. Unutterable relief flooded me, for nobody, not even the sentry, had noticed anything.
With acute discomfort I contemplated my legs. They were covered with a thick, grey, malodorous mass, and there was no water in the vicinity to clean them. But it was impossible to put on boots or stockings whilst they were in that condition. With infinite trouble I succeeded in scraping off the dirt as far as possible, and waited for the rest to dry; then only was I able to resume a fairly decent appearance.
My first plan had miscarried, but in spite of this I felt I had had such luck with it that I was ready to undertake a second venture.
I now made my way to the little bridge, which was guarded by my sentry, and, impersonating a drunken sailor, I reeled about until I gently collided with the good fellow. He, however, seemed quite used to such happenings, for remarking pleasantly, “Hallo, old Jack! One whisky too much!” he patted me on the shoulder and let me pass.
A hundred yards farther on, and I had regained my normal demeanour. After a short search I found the place from which I had started the night before on my ill-starred swimming attempt.
It was about 2 a.m., and in a trice I had undressed and sprang, agile and unhampered—as God had made me—into the water. For the first time the sky was covered with clouds, and the outlines of rowing-boats, anchored at a distance of about 200 yards from the shore, appeared vague and shadowy. The water was quite unusually phosphorescent, and I have only observed it to that degree in the tropics. I swam, therefore, in a sea of gold and silver. At any other time I would have admired this play of Nature immensely, but now I only felt fear that my body would flash suspiciously white in this clear golden light. At the start, all went well. But as soon as I had passed the left bend of the river, where the shore afforded some protection, I was seized by the current, and had to fight for my life with the watery elements. As I was losing my strength I reached the first boat, made a final effort and hoisted myself noisily into it. Oh, persecution of a pitiless fate! The boat was empty—no scull, no boat-hook with which I could have put it in motion. After a short pause I again slipped into the water and drifted on to the next boat. And this, too, was empty! And the same happened with the three next. And when I reached the last one, after I had rested a little, I again dipped into the glittering but now unpleasantly cold water. Two hours after I had started on my adventure, I again reached the place where I had left my clothes.
As I was trembling like an aspen leaf with cold and exposure, I found it particularly hard to get into my sodden and sticky togs.
Half an hour later I was back in my sleeping-place amid the hay, beginning to feel serious doubts in the existence of my lucky star!