Cruise of the Dolphin | Page 6

have the Dolphin give us the slip and
return to port minus her passengers."
"That it would," answered Binny, scrambling down the rocks.

Sandpeep Island is diamond-shaped--one point running out into the sea,
and the other looking towards the town. Our tent was on the river-side.
Though the Dolphin was also on the same side, she lay out of sight by
the beach at the farther extremity of the island.
Binny Wallace had been absent five or six minutes when we heard him
calling our several names in tones that indicated distress or surprise, we
could not tell which. Our first thought was, "The boat has broken
adrift!"
We sprung to our feet and hastened down to the beach. On turning the
bluff which hid the mooring-place from our view, we found the
conjecture correct. Not only was the Dolphin afloat, but poor little
Binny Wallace was standing in the bows with his arms stretched
helplessly towards us--drifting out to sea!
"Head the boat inshore!" shouted Phil Adams.
Wallace ran to the tiller; but the slight cockle-shell merely swung round
and drifted broadside on. Oh, if we had but left a single scull in the
Dolphin!
"Can you swim it?" cried Adams desperately, using his hand as a
speaking-trumpet, for the distance between the boat and the island
widened momently.
Binny Wallace looked down at the sea, which was covered with white
caps, and made a despairing gesture. He knew, and we knew, that the
stoutest swimmer could not live forty seconds in those angry waters.
A wild, insane light came into Phil Adam's eyes, as he stood knee- deep
in the boiling surf, and for an instant I think he meditated plunging into
the ocean after the receding boat.
The sky darkened, and an ugly look stole rapidly over the broken
surface of the sea.
Binny Wallace half rose from his seat in the stern, and waved his hand
to us in token of farewell. In spite of the distance, increasing every
moment, we could see his face plainly. The anxious expression it wore
at first had passed. It was pale and meek now, and I love to think there
was a kind of halo about it, like that which painters place around the
forehead of a saint. So he drifted away.
The sky grew darker and darker. It was only by straining our eyes
through the unnatural twilight that we could keep the Dolphin in sight.
The figure of Binny Wallace was no longer visible, for the boat itself

had dwindled to a mere white dot on the black water. Now we lost it,
and our hearts stopped throbbing; and now the speck appeared again,
for an instant, on the crest of a high wave.
Finally it went out like a spark, and we saw it no more. Then we gazed
at one another, and dared not speak.
Absorbed in following the course of the boat, we had scarcely noticed
the huddled inky clouds that sagged heavily all around us. From these
threatening masses, seamed at intervals with pale lightning, there now
burst a heavy peal of thunder that shook the ground under our feet. A
sudden squall struck the sea, ploughing deep white furrows into it, and
at the same instant a single piercing shriek rose above the tempest--the
frightened cry of a gull swooping over the island. How it startled us!
It was impossible any longer to keep our footing on the beach. The
wind and the breakers would have swept us into the ocean if we had not
clung to one another with the desperation of drowning men. Taking
advantage of a momentary lull, we crawled up the sands on our hands
and knees, and, pausing in the lee of the granite ledge to gain breath,
returned to the camp, where we found that the gale had snapped all the
fastenings of the tent but one. Held by this, the puffed-out canvas
swayed in the wind like a balloon. It was a task of some difficulty to
secure it, which we did by beating down the canvas with the oars.
After several trials, we succeeded in setting up the tent on the leeward
side of the ledge. Blinded by the vivid flashes of lightning, and
drenched by the rain, which fell in torrents, we crept, half dead with
fear and anguish, under our flimsy shelter. Neither the anguish nor the
fear was on our own account, for we were comparatively safe, but for
poor little Binny Wallace, driven out to sea in the merciless gale. We
shuddered to think of him in that frail shell, drifting on and on to his
grave, the sky rent with lightning over his head, and the green abysses
yawning beneath him. We suddenly fell to crying, and cried I know not