“Pull in to the left,” he sang out to Mr McCarthy, “and let us see how the current will then affect us. I fancy we’ll feel it all the more as we get inshore.”
“Aye, aye, sorr,” replied the first mate, directing the head of the jolly-boat right towards the face of the frowning cliff nearest to them; but still, for some time, there was no increase in their rate of speed, the short chopping waves that formed the backwater of the surges, which had already expended their strength on the rocky rampart of the coast, militating against any slight advantage they gained by the current taking them along with it.
At last, however, after three hours’ hard work, and when the fourth relay of men had just begun to handle the oars in the jolly-boat, the raft appeared all at once to move along more briskly and smoothly, while, at the same time, the sea grew calmer.
Things looked promising.
They had approached close inshore to the rocky wall of the cliff; and, if it had seemed formidable at a distance, it looked ten times more imposing now that only a few hundred yards of sea divided them from it. Its bold precipitous face appeared to ascend right up into the clouds, while the counterscarp, or base, seemed to dive abruptly into the deep without a slope. It was really just like a gigantic iron wall, straight up and down and quite even in contour, without a fissure or break as far as could be seen; and the surf made such a thundering din as it dashed fretfully against the lower part of the cliff, that it was almost impossible for the shipwrecked voyagers to hear each other speak.
Indeed, the whole scene could not but force their imagination to picture what might be their fate should a storm arise just then and give them over into the power of the billows. These were only in play now, so to speak; but if their demeanour changed to one of dreadful earnest, the mad waves would easily toss them as high and as savagely as they did the yeasty fragments of spindrift, which circled up into the air like snowflakes—flung off from the tops of the breakers after each unsuccessful onslaught on the rocky barrier that balked their endeavours to annihilate it.
However, there was little fear of such a catastrophe at present. Thanks to the aid of the current, combined with the towing powers of the jolly-boat’s crew—the sail having been found useless in the little wind there was and lowered again—the raft was proceeding steadily along at the rate of some three miles an hour; keeping all the while at a safe distance from the cliffs, in order to avoid any undertow, and rapidly losing the hull of the Nancy Bell—albeit, the flag of the ship could yet be seen distinctly far away astern to seaward, fluttering in the slight breeze that expanded its folds.
Each moment, too, the coast on the starboard hand rose up nearer and nearer, closing in sharply with that to port, thus showing that they were approaching the embouchure which Mr Meldrum had marked out. Soon, a little more exertion on the part of the rowers would decide whether the naval officer had judged rightly or wrongly as to there being a bay there—a veritable “harbour of refuge” it would be for them.
“I guess, mister,” said Mr Lathrope, who had been for some time quieter than usual, “that air animile ain’t far off its roosting peg; and whar he lands I kalkerlate we can dew too.”
As he spoke, the American pointed out a species of black shag or cormorant, which had evidently been on a fishing expedition and was returning home with the fruits of his spoil in his bill for the delectation of the home circle.