with all my might. My excitement was great, and the consternation
that posessed the ship's crew was upon me. As I leaned, the
vessel heeled violently to a large swell caused by the volcanic
disturbances. The roll was extraordinarily severe, heaving the
vessel down to her covering-board; and the great hill of water
running silent and in darkness through the sea, so that it could
neither be viewed nor heard, made the sickening lurch a dreadful
surprise and wonder.

It was in that moment that I fell overboard. I suppose my grip of
the backstay relaxed when the ship lay down; but, let the thing
have happened how it would, in a breath I was under water. It is
said that the swiftness of thought is best shown by dreams. This
may be so; yet I cannot believe that thought was ever swifter in
a dream than it was in me ere I came to the surface; for in those
few seconds I gathered exactly what had befallen me, wondered
whether my fall had been seen, whether I should be saved, realised
my hopeless condition if I had not been observed, and, above all, was
thinking steadfastly and with horror of the shark I had not long
ago watched stemming in fire past the ship. I was a very indifferent
swimmer, and what little power I had in that way was like to be
paralysed by thoughts of the shark. I rose and fetched a breath,
shook the water out of my eyes, and looked for the ship. She had
been sliding along at the rate of about four knots an hour; but
had she been sailing at ten she could not seem to have gone farther
from me during the brief while I was submerged. From the edge of
the water, where my eyes were, she appeared a towering pale shadow
about a mile off. I endeavoured to scream out; but whether the cold
of the plunge had bereft me of my voice, or that I had swallowed
water enough to stop my pipes, I found I could utter nothing