“I don’t like the look of things,” whispered Peter to Willy; “what if we don’t reach the bay?”
“We may perhaps lose the boat,” answered Willy, “but I trust that we may be able to scramble on shore somewhere or other.”
At length they got near enough to distinguish Bollard and his companions, who had come down to the beach to assist them. A fiercer blast than before struck the boat’s sail; down she heeled, till the hissing water ran over her gunwale. For a moment Harry feared she would not recover herself. As he put down the helm she once more rose, and in another minute was under the lee of the point; and he steered in towards the only spot of sandy beach which the bay afforded. The sails were hauled down, and all hands stood ready to leap out as she touched the shore. Aided by the next sea which came rolling in, she was run high upon the beach.
“This is indeed unfortunate,” said Harry to the boatswain. “It is too late to get back to-night, and I am afraid our friends at the settlement will become anxious about us.”
“But they will see it is blowing hard, sir, and that will fully account for the boat not being able to get up the harbour,” answered the boatswain.
Perhaps Harry was thinking that the fierce gale then blowing would only increase the anxiety which some, at all events, of the inhabitants of the settlement would feel on his account.
By the time they reached the hut the day was well advanced. There was still a short time of daylight, however, and the men employed it in cutting a further supply of fuel, that they might keep up a good fire during the night. A stream had been found at the bottom of the hill, from which they replenished their water-casks. Their supper, as on the previous evening, consisted of roast seal and a few roots cooked in the ashes, washed down with tea boiled in an iron bowl which had served as a baler for the boat. The night as it advanced became even more tempestuous than the preceding one. A few bough-tops served to keep them off the damp ground, and on these as many as could find room lay down to sleep, while the rest sat up keeping watch over the fire. Peter Patch finding the flag, which had been hauled down at sunset, wrapped himself up in it—a fortunate circumstance, as it afterwards proved, although the midshipman’s object was of a purely self-interested nature. No songs were sung that evening, and though a few yarns were spun, they were often wonderfully long-drawn, the drowsy listeners scarcely comprehending the drawling words which struck on their ears. The night passed slowly by. They were thankful that the boat had been drawn up on the beach, and placed, as they hoped, in safety, out of the reach of the sea.
The gale increased, thunder roared, and lightning flashed, and the whole harbour, as far as the eye could reach, was lashed into fury.
“I don’t like the look of things, Mr Shafto,” observed the boatswain to Harry, who had just sat up to make room for others. “If the sea was to reach the boat it would soon knock her into splinters. I cannot stand it any longer. With your leave, sir, I’ll go and see if she is all safe.”
Saying this, Bollard started up, Paul Lizard following him. In a short time they were heard shouting, and all the party hurried down to join them, Peter Patch, very unwilling to be roused, bringing up the rear, wrapped, to keep himself warm, in the flag which he had appropriated. They were not a moment too soon. The foaming water had already reached the stern of the boat, and was every now and then lifting her up and letting her fall again on the sandy beach. In a few minutes more she would have been carried away or knocked to pieces. By great exertion they managed to haul her up out of the reach of the surf, though every now and then the water washed up almost round her in a sheet of foam. As it was high tide, they had hopes she would remain safe during the night. Still, although drenched to the skin, they were unwilling to leave her when so much depended on her preservation. Again and again they tried to drag her further up. They were still standing round her, when Willy, looking towards the hill, exclaimed, “Why, surely our fire is blazing up brighter than before.”