In Great Waters: Four Stories

by Thomas A. Janvier

The mist thinned as we got closer in shoreward, showing me the sand-heavy surf waiting for its chance to scour the life out of us; but also showing me Covehithe Ness, and Covehithe church tower off to the left of it, and so giving me the points that I wanted to steer by. As for the look of the Wreck Gat, when we opened it, the waves blustered over it so big, and were all in such a whirl and a fury with the current meeting them, that only a crazy man—as I have said—ever would have tried for it. Just about crazy I then was, and the look of it suited me. In that sea the narrow channel was so lashed by the breakers running off from the sands to windward of it that there was no sign of a cleft anywhere. No matter how we steered, getting through it would be just hit or miss with us—and with all my heart and soul I hoped that it would be hit for me and miss for John.

To make in, I had to bear up a little; and getting the wind by even that little abeam gave my boat a send to leeward that was near to doing for me. I was glad of it, though; because I knew that John would get that same send in the wake of me—and with more chance of its finishing him, his boat being a deal less weatherly than mine. And so—as I grazed the sands, and after the graze went on safe again—my heart was light with the thought that I'd got the better of him at last.

"THEN I COULD USE MY EYES TO LOOK BEHIND ME"

There was no looking back, though, to see what had gone with him. All my eyes were needed for my steering. Everywhere about me the sand-heavy water was hugely rising in a great roar and tumble; and as for the sands under it, and there the worst danger was, it was just good luck or bad luck about striking them—and that was all that you could say. Twice I felt a jar under me as the boat went deep in the sea-trough; but I did not strike hard enough to hurt me, and I lifted again so quick that I did not broach-to. And then, when I thought that I was fairly through, and had safe water right ahead of me, there came a bang on the boat's side—as the sea-trough took me down again—that near stove me: and right at the side of me, so close that I could have touched it as I lay for a second there in the deep wave-hollow, was the stern-post of Tess's sand-bedded ship rising black out of the scum and foam. One foot farther to leeward and the jagged iron of it would have had me past praying for. But it did no harm to me—and as the water covered it again I shot on beyond it into what seemed to me, after the sea I'd hammered through, almost a mill-pond on the lee side of the bank.

Then I could use my eyes to look behind me: and what I saw will stay fixed in them till the copper pennies cover them and I see with them no more.

In spite of his send to leeward at the start, John had come through after me without taking the ground; but he had gone farther to leeward than I had, and so was set—when smooth water lay close ahead of him—fairly in death's way. As I looked back I saw only the bow of his boat, with the scrap of sail above it, riding on the top of an oncoming wave. Then the boat tilted forward, and came tearing down the wave-front at a slant toward me, and I saw the whole length of her: and what burned my eyes out was seeing Tess there, standing brave and steady, the two hands of her gripping fast the mast.

It was not much more than a second that I had to look at her. With a sharp sound of wood splintering, that I heard above the noise that the sea was making, the boat struck fair and full on that iron set timber—and then the wave that had sent her there was playing with the scattered bits of her, and the sand-heavy breakers were tumbling about the bodies of the two that she had borne.

If the sea meant to give me back my dead Tess again, I knew where I should find her—and there I did find her. On the shingle under Covehithe Ness she was lying: come to me there at the last, as she came to me there at the first, a sea upcast. That last time she was all mine. There was no John left living to steal her away from me. And if she was not mine as I wanted her, at least she never was his at all. In that far I had my will and way over him, and for that much I am glad.

And so, she being all my own, home along the beach for the second time I carried her. It was a wonder to me, as she lay in my arms, how light she was—and she so tall!