Read the chapter
Treasure Island
Chapter 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 hidden behind the Spy-glass, which on this side came down to the sea in terrible cliffs.
Haulbowline Head and Mizzenmast Hill were at my elbow.
The hill was bare and dark, and the head was ringed by cliffs forty or fifty feet high with masses of fallen rock.
I was barely a quarter of a mile from the shore, and my first thought was to paddle in and land.
That idea was soon given up, for the surf and jagged rocks made landing impossible.
Among the fallen rocks the breakers sprayed and roared, loud echoes, heavy sprays flying and falling, followed one another from second to second.
I saw myself, if I came closer, dashed to death on the rough shore or wasting my strength trying to climb the steep rocks.
Nor was that all, there was even more to dread and fear.
Crawling together on flat tables of rock or dropping into the sea with loud noises, I saw huge slimy monsters.
They were like soft snails of incredible size, two or three dozen of them together, making the rocks echo with their barking.
I have learned since that they were sea lions and completely harmless.
But the look of them, added to the difficulty of the shore and the high surf, was more than enough to make me hate that landing-place.
I felt I'd rather starve at sea than face such dangers.
In the meantime I had a better chance, as I thought, 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.
It was the Cape of the Woods, marked on the chart, buried in tall green pines to the edge of the sea.
I remembered what Silver had said about the current that sets northward along the whole west coast of Treasure Island.
Seeing I was already under its influence from my position, I decided to leave Haulbowline Head behind me.
I would save my strength to try to land on the kinder-looking Cape of the Woods.
There was a great, smooth swell on the sea.
The wind blew steady and gentle from the south.
So there was no conflict between that and the current, and the waves rose and fell unbroken.
If it had been otherwise, I'd have died long ago.
But as it was, it's surprising how easily and safely my little light boat could ride.
Often, lying low with only an eye above the gunwale, I saw a big blue wave heave close above me.
Yet the coracle would bounce, dance on springs, and sink into the trough on the other side as lightly as a bird.
After a little while I began to grow very bold and sat up to try my skill at paddling.
But even a small change in the position of the weight will produce violent changes in the behavior of a coracle.
I had hardly moved before the boat, abandoning her gentle dance, ran down a slope of water so steep it made me dizzy.
She struck her nose, with a spray of water, deep into the side of the next wave.
I was soaked and terrified, and fell instantly back into my old position.
Then the coracle seemed to find her head again and led me as softly as before among the waves.
It was clear she wasn't to be interfered with.
At that rate, since I could in no way influence her course, what hope did I have 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 bailed out the coracle with my sea-cap.
Then, getting my eye once more above the gunwale, I set myself to study how she managed to slip so quietly through the rollers.
I found each wave was not the big, smooth, glossy mountain it looks from shore or a ship's deck.
Instead, it was just like any range of hills on dry land.
It was full of peaks and smooth places and valleys.
Left to herself, turning side to side, the coracle threaded lower parts and avoided steep slopes and toppling summits.
"Well, now," I thought to myself, "it's clear I must lie where I'm and not disturb the balance."
"But it's clear I can put the paddle over the side and, in smooth places, give her a push towards land, no sooner thought than done".
There I lay on my elbows in the hardest position, now and then gave a weak stroke or two to head her shoreward.
It was very tiring and slow work, yet I did visibly gain ground.
As we drew near the Cape of the Woods, though I saw I would miss it, I had made a hundred yards eastward.
I was, indeed, close in, within a few yards of the tree-lined shore.
I could see the cool green tree-tops swaying together in the breeze, and I felt sure I'd make the next promontory without fail.
It was high time, for I now began to be tortured with thirst.
The sun glowed from above, its light reflected a thousand times from the waves.
Sea-water fell on me and dried, caking my lips with salt.
All this made 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 carried me past the point, and when the next reach opened I saw a sight that changed my thoughts.
Right in front of me, not half a mile away, I saw the HISPANIOLA under sail.
I made sure, of course, that I'd be taken.
But I was so distressed for want of water that I hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry at the thought.
Long before I had come to a conclusion, surprise had taken complete 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 saw her, all her sails were drawing.
She was lying a course about north-west.
And I guessed the men on board were going around the island on their way back to the anchorage.
Presently she began to turn more and more to the westward, so that I thought they had seen me and were turning to chase me.
At last, however, she fell right into the wind's eye, was taken dead aback, and stood there awhile helpless, with her sails shaking.
"Clumsy fellows," I said.
"They must still be drunk as owls." And I thought how Captain Smollett would have made them jump.
Meanwhile the schooner gradually fell off and filled again on another tack.
She sailed swiftly for a minute or so and brought up once more dead in the wind's eye.
Again and again this strange, helpless movement of the ship was repeated.
To and fro, up and down, north, south, east, and west, the HISPANIOLA sailed by swoops and dashes.
At each repetition she ended as she had begun, with idly flapping canvas.
It became clear to me that nobody was steering.
And if so, where were the men?
Either they were dead drunk or had left her, I thought.
And perhaps if I could get on board, I might return the vessel to her captain.
The current was carrying coracle and schooner southward at an equal rate.
As for the schooner's sailing, it was so wild and irregular.
And she hung each time so long in irons, that she certainly gained nothing, if she didn't even lose.
If only I dared to sit up and paddle, I was sure that I could catch up to her.
The plan had an air of adventure that inspired me, and the thought of the water barrel beside the fore companion doubled my growing courage.
Up I got, clambered into the seat, and seized my paddle once more.
I was welcomed almost instantly by another cloud of spray.
This time I stuck to my purpose and, with all my strength and caution, set myself to paddle after the unsteered HISPANIOLA.
Once I took in a sea so heavy that I had to stop and bail, with my heart fluttering like a bird.
Gradually I got used to it and learned to guide my coracle among the waves.
Only now and then a blow struck her bows and a dash of foam hit my face.
I was now gaining rapidly on the schooner.
I could see the brass shine on the tiller as it banged about, and still no soul appeared on her decks.
I couldn't help but suppose she was deserted.
If not, the men were lying drunk below, where I might lock them down, perhaps, and do what I chose with the ship.
For some time she had been doing the worst thing possible for me.
She was 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've said this was the worst thing possible for me.
Helpless as she looked, with canvas cracking like cannon and blocks banging on deck, she still ran away from me.
She did so 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 around her center.
At last she 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 ground, but now redoubling my efforts, I began once more to catch up to the chase.
I wasn't a hundred yards from her when the wind came again in a burst.
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.
She looked immensely tall to me from my low position in the coracle.
And then, of a sudden, I began to understand.
I had barely time to think, barely time to act and save myself.
I was on the top of one swell when the schooner came stooping over the next.
The bowsprit was over my head, I sprang to my feet and leaped, pushing the coracle under water.
With one hand I caught the jib-boom, while my foot was caught between the stay and the brace.
As I still clung there panting, a dull blow told me the schooner had charged down and struck the coracle.
I was left without retreat on the HISPANIOLA.