Dick Leslie's Luck: A Story of Shipwreck and Adventure

by Harry Collingwood

More than satisfied with the behaviour of his catamaran in smooth water, Leslie next headed her to the north-east, steering for the passage between the island and the reef that led to the open sea. The distance to be traversed was about four miles, and this the quaint-looking craft covered in seventeen minutes by Leslie’s watch, passing in an instant from smooth water out on to a tumbling surface of sapphire-blue creaming and foaming sea, with a long and rather formidable swell under-running it. This was the sort of sea to find out for Leslie the weak points in his structure, if it had any; and for the next half-hour—while “carrying-on,” and driving his craft full tilt against the sea under the heavy pressure of her enormous unreefed sails—he watched his craft carefully and anxiously, ready at the first sign of weakness to up-helm and run back to the shelter of the lagoon. But no such sign revealed itself; on the contrary, she not only stood up to her canvas “as stiff as a house,” but slid along over the high-running sea as buoyantly as an empty cask, hanging to windward with a tenacity that filled her happy owner with wonder; throwing a little spray over her weather bow occasionally, it is true, but otherwise going along as dry as a bone. Her speed, too, was truly astounding; had the poor old Mermaid been all ataunto and alongside her, the catamaran could have sailed round and round her. At length, thoroughly satisfied with his trial, and fully convinced of the absolute seaworthiness of his craft, Leslie tacked—the catamaran working like a top, even in the heavy sea that was running—and, putting up his helm, bore away back for the lagoon, reaching the brig once more after an absence of about an hour and a half.

He found Flora awaiting him, attired in a good serviceable and comfortably warm serge gown—for he had warned her that she would find the strong breeze a trifle chill out at sea—and with the lunch-basket packed and ready. It was the work of less than a minute to transfer her and the basket from the deck of the brig to that of the catamaran, when, leaving Sailor to take care of the former—much to his disgust—they once more pushed off, and headed straight out for the passage skirting the inner edge of the reef, and noting, as they slid rapidly along, that this inner margin of the reef was simply teeming with fish. Then, almost before they had time to realise it, they were in the open sea once more, and heading away to the northward and westward with the mainsheet eased off to its utmost limit, and the main-boom square out to starboard. Leslie allowed himself an offing of about a mile, as this would enable him not only to get a very good general idea of the island as a whole, but would also enable him to carefully examine the coast-line.

The easternmost extremity of the island—between which and the barrier reef the deep-water passage lay—was a bold headland thickly overgrown with tall and stately forest trees, and terminating in a rocky cliff about one hundred and fifty feet high, that dipped sheer down into the sea; and beyond this, to the northward, the coast-line curved inward somewhat to the most northerly point on the island, forming what might almost be termed a shallow bay—shallow, that is to say, in point of depth of itself, but not of its depth of water, for the whole north-easterly coast-line of the island consisted of precipitous cliffs averaging about a hundred feet in height, with water enough alongside to float the biggest ship that was ever launched, if one might judge from its colour. There was no sign or possibility of a beach anywhere along here, which was comforting to Leslie, whose mind somehow still clung rather tenaciously to the idea of possible savages. But nothing mortal could by any possibility land on that eastern seaboard, nor would savages be likely to establish themselves in a spot so completely inaccessible from the sea. Moreover, the entire country, from the ridge or backbone of the island, that ran from the crater down to the most northerly point of the island, was densely covered with vegetation, showing no faintest sign of clearing or cultivation, so that Leslie began once more to feel reassured.

The most northerly point of the island was reached and rounded in some forty minutes from the moment of leaving the lagoon and bearing away round Cape Flora—as Dick insisted on naming the bold headland that formed the eastern extremity of the island. This most northerly point was, like the other, a lofty vertical cliff, timber—crowned to its very verge and descending vertically into the sea; and Flora declared that the only possible designation for it was Point Richard.

Rounding Point Richard, then, and hauling in the mainsheet, the voyagers found themselves suddenly under the lee of the land and in smooth water, save for the long undulations of swell that came sweeping up to them from the southward. They were now coasting down the western side of the island; and here again Leslie was gratified to discover that the conclusions arrived at by him during his visit to the summit were correct; there was no beach throughout the whole length of the coast-line; nothing but sheer perpendicular cliffs everywhere, although in places these cliffs rose no higher than some twenty feet above the sea-level. Finally they arrived off the south-westerly extremity of the island—which they agreed to name Mermaid Head—and found themselves skirting the outer edge of the reef, at a distance of about one hundred yards from the surf-line, lost in wonderment and admiration of the great wall of snowy foam and spray that leapt, sparkling like a cloud of jewels, some forty feet into the clear sunlit air. Then they re-entered the lagoon and ran alongside the brig—to the exuberant delight of Sailor—some three hours from the moment of starting, having had a most enjoyable sail, and satisfied themselves definitely that, since no savages existed on their own side of the island, the place must of necessity be altogether free from their unwelcome presence. And thenceforward Leslie’s mind was completely free from at least that one anxiety.

And now, having provided himself with the means not only to pass freely and rapidly between the brig and the shore, but also to venture out to sea in chase of a ship, should occasion to do so arise, Leslie felt himself free to proceed with the execution of his great plan for the establishment of a dockyard ashore, and the construction of a craft sufficiently substantial and seaworthy to convey him and his companion back to the world of civilisation.

The first part of his task consisted in the erection of a spacious tent on shore for the accommodation of his companion and himself; and this he proposed to do with the aid of the old sails on board the brig, reserving the new ones and such canvas as he could find for the making of a suit of sails for the proposed new boat. He accordingly got out all the old sails, and deposited them on the deck of the catamaran, together with a quantity of cordage, blocks, and other gear, a crowbar, pickaxes, hammer, and shovel, an axe, and a number of miscellaneous odds and ends that he thought would be useful, and conveyed the whole to the shore. Then entering the woods, he selected the first nine suitable saplings that he could find, and cut them down, afterwards conveying them, one at a time and with considerable labour, to the site that he had chosen for his tent. He next dug six holes in the ground—three for each gable-end—and in four of these holes he reared four of his stoutest saplings to form the four corners of the tent, setting them carefully upright by means of temporary stays, and ramming the loose soil round about their feet until they stood quite firmly. Then, midway between the poles that were to form the gable-ends of the tent, he reared two others, some ten feet longer than the first four, these last being intended to support the ridge-pole of the structure, which he next hoisted into position and securely lashed. Then he similarly raised the eaves-poles into position and lashed them, thus completing the skeleton of the tent. The sides and ends of the structure, together with a central partition, were formed of sails, laboriously hoisted into position by means of tackles, laced to the ridge-pole, and securely pinned to the ground with stakes; and a spare main-course drawn over the ridge-pole, sloping down over the eaves, and drawn tight all round by ropes spliced into the leeches and secured to the ground with stout tent pegs, completed the whole. To prevent the flooding of the tent in wet weather, Leslie took the precaution to dig a good deep trench all round it to receive the rain-water, and from this he dug another to carry it off.

The next matter demanding attention was the furnishing of the tent. The need of bedsteads was easily met by driving four stout stakes into the ground, connected at their tops by side and end poles, to which lengths of stout canvas were attached by a lacing; and the structure was then ready to receive the mattress and bedding generally. The cabin lamp efficiently illuminated Miss Trevor’s half of the tent, while a lamp taken from the steward’s berth afforded Leslie all the light he needed to undress by. Then the cabin table, the locker cushions, the deck-chair, the ship’s slender stock of books, and a variety of odds and ends conducive to comfort were transferred from the brig to the shore, together with the galley stove and its appurtenances; and the pair then went into residence in their new abode—which, it may be said, they found much more roomy, airy, and comfortable than their former quarters aboard the brig. The galley stove, it should be mentioned, was set up outside and to leeward of the tent, all cooking operations being conducted in the open air. The erection of the tent, from start to finish, absorbed a fortnight of Leslie’s time, and involved such a lavish expenditure of labour that, could he have foreseen it, he would, as he afterwards confessed, have started much less ambitiously.

And now the ex-lieutenant found himself confronted by a truly formidable task, compared with which all that had gone before was a mere trifle. This consisted in overhauling the cargo of the brig, with the view of appropriating everything that could by any possibility prove of use to them either during their—as they hoped—temporary sojourn upon the island, or in the construction of the boat that was to take them away from it. Leslie had become aware, from remarks made by Purchas, that the brig was taking out a very considerable quantity of machinery, but this was all stowed in the bottom of the ship. On top of this there was a vast miscellaneous assortment of mixed goods of almost every conceivable description, and this it was that Leslie wished to get hold of and overhaul.

Accordingly, he one morning went off to the brig and proceeded to lift off the main hatches, disclosing to view a number of bales and packing-cases, mostly of a size and weight that it would be impossible for him to deal with single-handed. He saw that before it would be possible for him to raise even a fourth part of them it would be necessary for him to have the assistance of certain appliances, such as sheers, tackles, etcetera; but he succeeded in dragging a few of the lightest of them on deck and opening them.