Meanwhile Roger noticed that the solitary watcher on the beach had now left the water, and was lying at full-length on the sand as though overcome by his exertions, weakened as perhaps he was by long exposure and privation.
The lad felt extremely anxious as to the fate of the ships, and frequently turned his head to snatch a glimpse of what was happening behind him. He was able to see, during his brief observations, that boats had been lowered from the stranded ship, and from her consorts, and were plying at their utmost speed between the wreck and the other vessels of the squadron. It was evident to Roger that the captain, observing the extraordinarily rapid approach of the gale, and foreseeing that, unless a miracle were to take place, the stranded ship must be lost, had not delayed a moment, but was transferring her crew to the other ships as fast as he possibly could. Roger fervently prayed that this operation of transfer might be completed ere the storm burst upon them; but he was very doubtful, for that fatal white line of foam was driving down upon the fleet with appalling rapidity.
But he could not relax his attention from the matter that he himself had in hand. He could not watch what was going on behind him and also steer the boat; so he set his teeth and gripped the tiller hard, looking straight ahead of him in search of the best and safest spot on which to beach his boat, for the sea was rising fast. He would have given much to have had his bosom friend and more than brother, Harry, in the boat with him at that moment. He could always rely on Harry’s coolness and sound clear-headed advice, and he would have felt much less anxious had his chum been with him then.
The man on shore was now seen to stagger to his feet and to support himself with a stick, alternately pointing out to sea and beckoning them on. But neither Roger nor the men with him now needed anyone to remind them of the peril in which they stood.
They were nearing the beach now, but meanwhile the sea had been rising with almost incredible rapidity. When they left the ship the sea had been calm, with not even a ripple lapping the beach. There had been the proverbial calm before the storm. But now, although the gale had not yet reached the boat, the waves were leaping up the beach in foam, and their back-wash gave forth a roar like that of distant thunder. Roger yearned to look behind him again, to ascertain how far away the white squall still was, but he dared not turn his head; all his nerve and skill and courage were now needed to enable him to beach the boat without capsizing her. One glance at the faces of the men pulling, who of course were sitting looking aft in the direction from which the storm was coming, was enough to convince him that it could not be by this time very far distant. They were now within a few fathoms of the beach, and Roger, for the first time, dared to hope that they would reach the shore without any mishap, when he observed his two seamen redouble their exertions, with a look of terror on their countenances, although they were
very nearly “gastados” as the Dons say, or used up, and the next moment, with a fearful shriek, the white squall burst in all its fury upon the unhappy trio. The boat seemed suddenly to take wings; she was propelled with fearful velocity towards the beach; the spindrift whistled about them and blinded them; the shriek and roar of the wind deafened them, and its fearful force stunned them. The seamen were blown bodily from the thwarts into the bottom of the boat; but Roger, clinging desperately to the gunwale with one hand, and fiercely gripping the tiller with the other, contrived to retain his seat, and strove to pierce the dense mist of scud-water with his eyes, that he might see to beach the boat safely. But he could perceive nothing, and the next moment a wave descended full upon his back, dashing him forward and out over the bows. The tiller thus released, the boat broached to, filled, and capsized, and her three occupants were left struggling in the water and fighting for their lives, while the craft was flung bottom-upward on the beach and dashed into staves by the violence of the shock. Tossed hither and thither, to and fro, Roger strove to get his breath; but he could not, for he seemed buried in salt water; and he was suffering all the agonies of suffocation when his head emerged for a moment from the water and he drew a hasty breath that seemed to put fresh strength into his fast-failing limbs. Yet, strive against it as he would, although he felt the beach under his feet, they were fast being dragged from under him; he was in the clutch of the fatal undertow, and he knew that, exhausted as he was, if he were once swept back again into deep water he would drown, for his strength was now at an end. Summoning up all his energy, therefore, he gave vent to a loud shout for help—although help seemed to be the last thing he might expect at that moment—and made one last struggle for life. But, even as his senses failed him, and he was sinking backward in that fatal embrace, a pair of strong hands clutched his hair and arm, and for a few seconds he felt as though, between the sea on the one hand and a sturdy British seaman on the other, he were being torn asunder. Presently, however, the wave receded; the awful feeling of being sucked back left him, and, opening his eyes, he saw that he was on terra firma, with the sea behind him. “Now run,” shouted the seaman—one Jake Irwin, who had been in the boat with him,—“run, Master Trevose, before the next sea catches ye.” At the same time he dragged the lad up the beach with all his strength, and they reached safety as another wave came rolling hungrily after them, to retire again with an angry snarl, as though cheated of its lawful prey. Roger stood up and wiped the wet from his eyes and ears, and wrung the water out of his clothes as well as he could, and looked about him. He saw the two seamen—one of whom had rescued him, only just in the nick of time, from a watery grave—standing close by; and not far from them he perceived the figure of the man whom they had come to rescue, and for whom they had so nearly met disaster. The seamen who had rowed in the boat seemed none the worse for their adventure, and asked the lad how he felt, and whether he had suffered from the accident to the boat. Roger, aching in every limb and muscle from his recent struggle in the water, felt himself carefully over, and was able to assure them that he had broken no bones.
The stranger now approached and spoke to them, thanking them and applauding their bravery in coming away to save him, despite the threat of the gale that was by this time raging furiously. The man, it appeared, was an Englishman, and, in answer to a question put by Roger, he confessed that, as the captain had suggested on the deck of the flag-ship, he had been one of a crew of pirates, and, having incurred the displeasure of his captain and the enmity of his companions, had been marooned on the sand-bank with but a small stock of provisions and no means of obtaining more when those were exhausted; he had been allowed neither fishing-tackle nor musket with powder and shot, although the latter would not have been of very much use to him, for the island was small and so far away from the mainland that birds very seldom made their appearance there. It appeared that he had been on the sand-bank some thirty-six days, with the few provisions that they had been moved to give him, and nothing else beside but the clothing he stood up in.
“But,” concluded the poor fellow, who was emaciated and weak to the last degree, “I have made a bit of a shelter to leeward of the top of this bank; let us go there, since even it is better than nothing at all. Your boat’s smashed to pieces on the beach, and we shall be forced to remain here until the storm blows itself out before they can send another boat. I pray that it may not be long in doing so, for, although there is water here in plenty, my provisions are pitifully low; in fact, for the four of us, there is only enough for about two days with the strictest economy. But come round to my shelter and I will make some fire, so that you can get your clothes dried, and you will then be a bit more comfortable.”
They were turning to follow their new friend, when Roger once more cast his eyes out to seaward, and he came to a stand-still, remaining as if rooted to the spot. The others gazed at him for a moment in astonishment, not knowing what had come over the lad. As they looked, however, he raised his arm slowly and pointed to seaward; the other three, following the direction of his outstretched arm, at once saw the reason for the horror and despair depicted on the lad’s countenance. The flag-ship, which they had left stranded, lay broken in half by the terrific force of the sea, and the after-part of her was now being gradually driven shoreward, the fore-part remaining, as before, embedded in the sand; and, worse still for the poor castaways, the remaining three ships of the fleet had cut their cables and, setting what sail they dared, were heading away from the island before the gale. No wonder that Roger felt stunned with despair, as he realised that he was actually left on an island that was nothing more than a mere sand-bank, with three other men to bear him company, it is true, but with, between the four, only two days’ provisions, provided that they were used with the most rigid economy!