The matter was growing serious, for every instant the waves were increasing in height. It seemed scarcely possible that our light canoes could float much longer. The force of the water alone was sufficient to crumple them up. Peter looked very pale, but said nothing, and baled away perseveringly, while our voyageurs paddled bravely on, facing the danger like men. Now we rose on the top of a huge sea foaming and bubbling and curling round us, and then down we sank again in the hollow, and it appeared that the next sea which we saw rolling on fierce and angry must overwhelm us, and so it would had we stayed where we were, but our buoyant canoes rose up the watery hill, and there we were on the top ready to plunge down on the other side. It was an anxious time. An accident to one canoe would have proved the destruction of both, for unless we had deserted our companions, in attempting to save them both would probably have perished. Our only chance would have been to throw all the lading out of the canoes and to cling on to them till we might be washed on shore. All we could feel was that, by dint of great exertions, we were making progress towards the island. We encouraged each other also by guessing how many yards we had made during each ten minutes. More than once I thought that we should go down, and at length a sea higher than its predecessors came rolling on, and I heard Trevor’s voice cry out that the canoe was filling and that they were sinking, urging us to paddle on and not to attempt to save them. I looked round—they had disappeared—my heart sank—we were leading, we could not have turned back without certain destruction—our only chance was to keep working away head to wind. I knew that, yet I longed to make an attempt to rescue my friend and his companions. I dared not look back. I thought that I should see them struggling in the waves, and yet not be able to stretch out a hand to help them. Presently I heard a voice. It was Jack’s—in cheery tones singing out—
“All right, Jolly; we’ve got rid of our ballast and will soon be up with you.”
I was thankful, indeed, to hear him, and little heeded the loss of the lading of which he spoke; though, as it consisted chiefly of our provisions, it was a serious matter. I did look round for an instant, and then he was paddling on as if nothing had been the matter. Still, we had a long way to go and darkness was coming on. My motto has always been “persevere—never give in while life remains.” So we paddled on. I had begun to fear, however, that we should never reach the island, when, on our port bow, as a sailor would say, appeared some low shrubs growing out of, not the water, but a sandbank which the dancing waves had before prevented us seeing. Had we gone on a few minutes longer and been driven on it to windward, though we might, for the moment, have escaped with our lives, our canoes must have been dashed in pieces and all our store and provisions destroyed and lost. I pointed it out to Trevor just in time; and now allowing our canoes to drop astern a little we found ourselves in comparatively smooth water, under the lee of the bank. Rather than risk proceeding further, especially as the channel between the bank and the island was rougher than any part, we agreed to land.
In a strong boat this is an easy matter, but a stone or a branch may drive a hole in an instant through a thin birch canoe. As soon, therefore, as we neared the shore we jumped out and lifted our canoes on to firm ground. I will not call it dry, for the spray completely covered it. Still we had reason to be thankful that we had escaped the great danger to which we had been exposed. We had very little light left us, but we picked out the highest and driest spot among the bushes we could find, though neither very high nor very dry, and there we managed to camp. We had no hopes of keeping our tent standing, and, indeed, before we could light a fire it was necessary to construct a screen to protect it from the wind. This we did with some sticks and birch-bark and shrubs washed on shore, and under it we all crouched down to try and dry our wet garments—when we had, after no little trouble, lighted our fire. The only wood we could get to burn was found under bushes and other sheltered places. Our crews were greatly fatigued with their exertions, and wrapping themselves up in their buffalo robes, they were soon asleep, as was Peter. Trevor and I also being very tired were preparing to follow their example—indeed, in spite of the storm, we could scarcely keep awake. We made up our fire as well as we could, hoping that it would continue burning till somebody awoke to replenish it. We persuaded ourselves that it was useless to keep watch, as no hostile Indians could approach us; nor could any wild beasts; our canoes were secured, and the fire was so placed that it could not injure us.
“Good night, old fellow,” said Trevor, drowsily. “Wake me when the storm is over, for we shall not be able to move till then.”
“Of course,” said I. “But if you wake first rouse me up.”
“Oh, yes. I say, Har—that’s it—just what—”
Trevor’s attempt to speak more failed him—or, at all events, I did not hear him, and we were both asleep. In my sleep, however, I heard the storm raging and the water dashing against the sandbank. Suddenly I was conscious that I was lifted from the ground—there was a hissing noise, and I felt very cold. I sprang to my feet, shouting out to the rest of the party, who were soon spluttering and jumping and crying out, not knowing what had happened or was going to happen. I very quickly guessed; a wave had broken over the bank, and as yet we could not discover who or what it had carried off, as it had completely extinguished the fire. I shouted out, demanding if all hands were there. Trevor, Swiftfoot, Pierre Garoupe, and the other voyageurs answered; but Peter made no reply. Again I shouted—no one answered. We felt for the spot where he had lain, but he was not there.
“Poor fellow, he must be lost!” I exclaimed.
Just then I heard a cry, and Ready, who had disappeared, gave a bark. Guided by the sound, I stumbled on to the spot, and there, caught in a bush and half in the water, I found a human being whom I recognised as Peter, from his exclamation—