I did not sail the ship at night, but got out a sea-anchor (using a
float and a long coir rope), and lay-to while I turned in for a
sleep. I would be up at day-break next morning, and as the weather
continued beautifully fine, I had no difficulty in getting under
way again. At last the expected happened. One afternoon, without
any warning whatsoever, the vessel struck heavily on a reef. I
hurriedly constructed a raft out of the hatches and spare spars,
and put biscuits and water aboard, after which I landed on the
rocks. When the tide reached its lowest point the stern of the
Veielland was left fully TWENTY FEET OUT OF WATER, securely jammed
between two high pinnacles of coral rock. The sight was remarkable
in the extreme. The sails were still set, and the stiff breeze
that was blowing dead against them caused them to belly out just as
though the craft were afloat, and practically helped to keep the
vessel in position. The bows were much higher than the stern, the
line of the decks being at an angle of about forty-five degrees.
In this remarkable situation she remained secure until the turning
of the tide. My only hope was that she would not suffer from the
tremendous strain to which she was necessarily being subjected. It
seemed to me every minute that she would free herself from her
singular position between the rocks, and glide down bows foremost
into the sea to disappear for ever. But the sails kept her back.
How earnestly I watched the rising of the waters; and night came on
as I waited. Slowly and surely they crept up the bows, and the
ship gradually assumed her natural level until at length the stanch
little craft floated safe and sound once more, apparently very
little the worse for her strange experience. And then away I went
on my way--by this time almost schooled to indifference. Had she
gone down I must inevitably have succumbed on those coral reefs,
for the stock of biscuits and water I had been able to put aboard