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Treasure Island - The Cruise of the Coracle

1. Dedicated

2. The Old Sea-dog at the Admiral Benbow

3. Black Dog Appears and Disappears

4. The Black Spot

5. The Sea-chest

6. The Last of the Blind Man

7. The Captain's Papers

8. I Go to Bristol

9. At the Sign of the Spy-glass

10. Powder and Arms

11. The Voyage

12. What I Heard in the Apple Barrel

13. Council of War

14. How My Shore Adventure Began

15. The First Blow

16. The Man of the Island

17. Narrative Continued by the Doctor: How the Ship Was Abandoned

18. Narrative Continued by the Doctor: The Jolly-boat's Last Trip

19. Narrative Continued by the Doctor: End of the First Day's Fighting

20. Narrative Resumed by Jim Hawkins: The Garrison in the Stockade

21. Silver's Embassy

22. The Attack

23. How My Sea Adventure Began

24. The Ebb-tide Runs

25. The Cruise of the Coracle

26. I Strike the Jolly Roger

27. Israel Hands

28. "Pieces of Eight"

29. In the Enemy's Camp

30. The Black Spot Again

31. On Parole

32. The Treasure-hunt--Flint's Pointer

33. The Treasure-hunt--The Voice Among the Trees

34. The Fall of a Chieftain

35. And Last







24

The Cruise of the Coracle

IT was broad day when I awoke and found myself tossing
at the south-west end of Treasure Island. The sun was
up but was still hid from me behind the great bulk of
the Spy-glass, which on this side descended almost to
the sea in formidable cliffs.

Haulbowline Head and Mizzen-mast Hill were at my elbow,
the hill bare and dark, the head bound with cliffs forty
or fifty feet high and fringed with great masses of fallen
rock. I was scarce a quarter of a mile to seaward, and it
was my first thought to paddle in and land.

That notion was soon given over. Among the fallen
rocks the breakers spouted and bellowed; loud
reverberations, heavy sprays flying and falling,
succeeded one another from second to second; and I saw
myself, if I ventured nearer, dashed to death upon the
rough shore or spending my strength in vain to scale
the beetling crags.

Nor was that all, for crawling together on flat tables of
rock or letting themselves drop into the sea with loud
reports I beheld huge slimy monsters--soft snails, as it
were, of incredible bigness--two or three score of them
together, making the rocks to echo with their barkings.

I have understood since that they were sea lions, and
entirely harmless. But the look of them, added to the
difficulty of the shore and the high running of the
surf, was more than enough to disgust me of that
landing-place. I felt willing rather to starve at sea
than to confront such perils.

In the meantime I had a better chance, as I supposed,
before me. North of Haulbowline Head, the land runs in
a long way, leaving at low tide a long stretch of
yellow sand. To the north of that, again, there comes
another cape--Cape of the Woods, as it was marked upon
the chart--buried in tall green pines, which descended
to the margin of the sea.

I remembered what Silver had said about the current that
sets northward along the whole west coast of Treasure
Island, and seeing from my position that I was already
under its influence, I preferred to leave Haulbowline
Head behind me and reserve my strength for an attempt to
land upon the kindlier-looking Cape of the Woods.

There was a great, smooth swell upon the sea. The wind
blowing steady and gentle from the south, there was no
contrariety between that and the current, and the
billows rose and fell unbroken.

Had it been otherwise, I must long ago have perished;
but as it was, it is surprising how easily and securely
my little and light boat could ride. Often, as I still
lay at the bottom and kept no more than an eye above
the gunwale, I would see a big blue summit heaving
close above me; yet the coracle would but bounce a
little, dance as if on springs, and subside on the
other side into the trough as lightly as a bird.

I began after a little to grow very bold and sat up to
try my skill at paddling. But even a small change in
the disposition of the weight will produce violent changes
in the behaviour of a coracle. And I had hardly moved
before the boat, giving up at once her gentle dancing
movement, ran straight down a slope of water so steep
that it made me giddy, and struck her nose, with a spout
of spray, deep into the side of the next wave.

I was drenched and terrified, and fell instantly back
into my old position, whereupon the coracle seemed to
find her head again and led me as softly as before
among the billows. It was plain she was not to be
interfered with, and at that rate, since I could in no
way influence her course, what hope had I left of
reaching land?

I began to be horribly frightened, but I kept my head, for
all that. First, moving with all care, I gradually baled
out the coracle with my sea-cap; then, getting my eye once
more above the gunwale, I set myself to study how it was
she managed to slip so quietly through the rollers.

I found each wave, instead of the big, smooth glossy
mountain it looks from shore or from a vessel's deck,
was for all the world like any range of hills on dry
land, full of peaks and smooth places and valleys. The
coracle, left to herself, turning from side to side,
threaded, so to speak, her way through these lower
parts and avoided the steep slopes and higher, toppling
summits of the wave.

"Well, now," thought I to myself, "it is plain I must
lie where I am and not disturb the balance; but it is
plain also that I can put the paddle over the side and
from time to time, in smooth places, give her a shove
or two towards land." No sooner thought upon than
done. There I lay on my elbows in the most trying
attitude, and every now and again gave a weak stroke or
two to turn her head to shore.

It was very tiring and slow work, yet I did visibly
gain ground; and as we drew near the Cape of the Woods,
though I saw I must infallibly miss that point, I had
still made some hundred yards of easting. I was,
indeed, close in. I could see the cool green tree-tops
swaying together in the breeze, and I felt sure I
should make the next promontory without fail.

It was high time, for I now began to be tortured with
thirst. The glow of the sun from above, its
thousandfold reflection from the waves, the sea-water
that fell and dried upon me, caking my very lips with
salt, combined to make my throat burn and my brain
ache. The sight of the trees so near at hand had
almost made me sick with longing, but the current had
soon carried me past the point, and as the next reach
of sea opened out, I beheld a sight that changed the
nature of my thoughts.

Right in front of me, not half a mile away, I beheld
the HISPANIOLA under sail. I made sure, of course,
that I should be taken; but I was so distressed for
want of water that I scarce knew whether to be glad or
sorry at the thought, and long before I had come to a
conclusion, surprise had taken entire possession of my
mind and I could do nothing but stare and wonder.

The HISPANIOLA was under her main-sail and two
jibs, and the beautiful white canvas shone in the sun
like snow or silver. When I first sighted her, all her
sails were drawing; she was lying a course about north-
west, and I presumed the men on board were going round
the island on their way back to the anchorage.
Presently she began to fetch more and more to the
westward, so that I thought they had sighted me and
were going about in chase. At last, however, she fell
right into the wind's eye, was taken dead aback, and
stood there awhile helpless, with her sails shivering.

"Clumsy fellows," said I; "they must still be drunk as
owls." And I thought how Captain Smollett would have
set them skipping.

Meanwhile the schooner gradually fell off and filled
again upon another tack, sailed swiftly for a minute or
so, and brought up once more dead in the wind's eye.
Again and again was this repeated. To and fro, up and
down, north, south, east, and west, the HISPANIOLA
sailed by swoops and dashes, and at each repetition
ended as she had begun, with idly flapping canvas. It
became plain to me that nobody was steering. And if
so, where were the men? Either they were dead drunk or
had deserted her, I thought, and perhaps if I could get
on board I might return the vessel to her captain.

The current was bearing coracle and schooner southward
at an equal rate. As for the latter's sailing, it was
so wild and intermittent, and she hung each time so
long in irons, that she certainly gained nothing, if
she did not even lose. If only I dared to sit up and
paddle, I made sure that I could overhaul her. The
scheme had an air of adventure that inspired me, and
the thought of the water breaker beside the fore
companion doubled my growing courage.

Up I got, was welcomed almost instantly by another
cloud of spray, but this time stuck to my purpose and
set myself, with all my strength and caution, to paddle
after the unsteered HISPANIOLA. Once I shipped a
sea so heavy that I had to stop and bail, with my heart
fluttering like a bird, but gradually I got into the
way of the thing and guided my coracle among the waves,
with only now and then a blow upon her bows and a dash
of foam in my face.

I was now gaining rapidly on the schooner; I could see
the brass glisten on the tiller as it banged about, and
still no soul appeared upon her decks. I could not
choose but suppose she was deserted. If not, the men
were lying drunk below, where I might batten them down,
perhaps, and do what I chose with the ship.

For some time she had been doing the worse thing
possible for me--standing still. She headed nearly due
south, yawing, of course, all the time. Each time she
fell off, her sails partly filled, and these brought
her in a moment right to the wind again. I have said
this was the worst thing possible for me, for helpless
as she looked in this situation, with the canvas cracking
like cannon and the blocks trundling and banging on the
deck, she still continued to run away from me, not only
with the speed of the current, but by the whole amount
of her leeway, which was naturally great.

But now, at last, I had my chance. The breeze fell for
some seconds, very low, and the current gradually
turning her, the HISPANIOLA revolved slowly round
her centre and at last presented me her stern, with the
cabin window still gaping open and the lamp over the
table still burning on into the day. The main-sail
hung drooped like a banner. She was stock-still but
for the current.

For the last little while I had even lost, but now
redoubling my efforts, I began once more to overhaul
the chase.

I was not a hundred yards from her when the wind came
again in a clap; she filled on the port tack and was
off again, stooping and skimming like a swallow.

My first impulse was one of despair, but my second was
towards joy. Round she came, till she was broadside on
to me--round still till she had covered a half and then
two thirds and then three quarters of the distance that
separated us. I could see the waves boiling white
under her forefoot. Immensely tall she looked to me
from my low station in the coracle.

And then, of a sudden, I began to comprehend. I had
scarce time to think--scarce time to act and save
myself. I was on the summit of one swell when the
schooner came stooping over the next. The bowsprit was
over my head. I sprang to my feet and leaped, stamping
the coracle under water. With one hand I caught the
jib-boom, while my foot was lodged between the stay and
the brace; and as I still clung there panting, a dull
blow told me that the schooner had charged down upon
and struck the coracle and that I was left without
retreat on the HISPANIOLA.




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