showing aboard, yet apparently anchored in the same position as when
we had swept past the previous afternoon. The slightly brighter sky
above served to reveal the tracery of bare poles, while the hull was
no more than a blot in the gloom, utterly shapeless, and appearing to
be much farther away than it was in reality. Indeed, as the sky
gradually darkened the entire vision vanished, as though it had been
one of those strange mirages I had seen in the African deserts. Yet I
knew with certainty the ship was there, had sufficient time in which
to mark its position accurately, and rejoiced at the increase of
darkness to conceal my approach. Guided by this memory I waded
straight out through the lines of surf, until all excepting the head
became completely submerged. If I was to reach the bark at all, this
was the one opportunity.

I stood there, resisting the undertow tugging at my limbs, and barely
able to retain my footing, intent upon my purpose. Full strength had
come back to my muscles, and my head was again clear. The imminent
sense of danger seemed to bring me a feeling of happiness, of new
confidence in myself. The die was cast, and whatever the result, I was
going ahead to accomplish all that was humanly possible. From now on
there was to be no doubting, no turning back. A voice, high-pitched,
echoed to me across the water, reaching my ears a mere thread of
sound, the words indistinguishable. It must have been an order, for, a
moment later, I distinguished the clank of capstan bars, as though men
of the crew were engaged in warping the vessel off shore for greater
safety. The movement was too deliberate and noiseless to mean the
lifting of the anchor, nor was it accompanied by any flapping of sail,
or shifting of yards to denote departure. Nevertheless even this
movement decided me to delay my attempt no longer, and, with strong,
silent strokes I swam forward, directly breasting the force of the