|
|
|
THE STORM AND WHAT CAME OF IT:
IT was nearly three weeks after their landing that the Dawn Treader was towed
out of Narrowhaven harbour. Very solemn farewells had been spoken and a great
crowd had assembled to see her departure. There had been cheers, and tears too,
when Caspian made his last speech to the Lone Islanders and parted from the Duke
and his family, but as the ship, her purple sail still flapping idly, drew
further from the shore, and the sound of Caspian's trumpet from the poop came
fainter across the water, everyone became silent. Then she came into the wind.
The sail swelled out, the tug cast off and began rowing back, the first real
wave ran up under the Dawn Treader's prow, and she was a live ship again. The
men off duty went below, Drinian took the first watch on the poop, and she
turned her head eastward round the south of Avra.
The next few days were delightful. Lucy thought she was the most fortunate girl
in the world; as she woke each morning to see the reflections of the sunlit
water dancing on the ceiling of her cabin and looked round on all the nice new
things she had got in the Lone Islands - seaboots and buskins and cloaks and
jerkins and scarves. And then she would go on deck and take a look from the
forecastle at a sea which was a brighter blue each morning and drink in an air
that was a little warmer day by day. After that came breakfast and such an
appetite as one only has at sea.
She spent a good deal of time sitting on the little bench in the stern playing
chess with Reepicheep. It was amusing to see him lifting the pieces, which were
far too big for him, with both paws and standing on tiptoes if he made a move
near the centre of the board. He was a good player and when he remembered what
he was doing he usually won. But every now and then Lucy won because the Mouse
did something quite ridiculous like sending a knight into the danger of a queen
and castle combined. This happened because he had momentarily forgotten it was a
game of chess and was thinking of a real battle and making the knight do what he
would certainly have done in its place. For his mind was full of forlorn hopes,
death-or-glory charges, and last stands.
But this pleasant time did not last. There came an evening when Lucy, gazing
idly astern at the long furrow or wake they were leaving behind them, saw a
great rack of clouds building itself up in the west with amazing speed.
Then a gap was torn in it and a yellow sunset poured through the gap. All the
waves behind them seemed to take on unusual shapes and the sea was a drab or
yellowish colour like dirty canvas. The air grew cold. The ship seemed to move
uneasily as if she felt danger behind he The sail would be flat and limp one
minute and wildly the next. While she was noting these things and wondering at a
sinister change which had come over the very noise the wind, Drinian cried, "All
hands on deck." In a moment everyone became frantically busy. The hatches wet
battened down, the galley fire was put out, men went aloft to reef the sail.
Before they had finished the storm struck them. It seemed to Lucy that a great
valley in the sea opened just before their bows, and they rushed down in it,
deeper down than she would have believed possible. A great grey hill of water,
far higher than the mast, rushed to meet them; it looked certain death but they
were tossed to the top of it. Then the ship seemed to spin round. A cataract of
water poured over the deck; the poop and forecastle were like two islands with a
fierce sea between them. aloft the sailors were lying out along the yard
desperate trying to get control of the sail. A broken rope stood out sideways in
the wind as straight and stiff as if it was poker.
"Get below, Ma'am," bawled Drinian. And Lucy knowing that landsmen - and
landswomen - are a nuisance to the crew, began to obey. It was not easy. The
Dawn Treader was listing terribly to starboard and the deck sloped like the roof
of a house. She had to clamber round to the top of the ladder, holding on to the
rail, and the stand by while two men climbed up it, and then get down as best
she could. It was well she was already holding tight for at the foot of the
ladder another wave roar across the deck, up to her shoulders. She was already
almost wet through with spray and rain but this was colder. Then she made a dash
for the cabin door and got in and shut out for a moment the appalling sight of
the speed with which they were rushing into the dark, but not of course the
horrible confusion of creakings, groanings, snappings, clatterings, roarings and
boomings which only sounded more alarming below than they had done on the poop.
And all next day and all the next it went on. It went on till one could hardly
even remember a time before it had begun. And there always had to be three men
at the tiller and it was as much as three could do to keep any kind of a course.
And there always had to be men at the pump. And there was hardly any rest for
anyone, and nothing could be cooked and nothing could be dried, and one man was
lost overboard, and they never saw the sun.
When it was over Eustace made the following entry in his diary.
"3 September. The first day for ages when I have been able to write. We had been
driven before a hurricane for thirteen days and nights. I know that because I
kept a careful count, though the others all say it was only twelve. Pleasant to
be embarked on a dangerous voyage with people who can't even count right! I have
had a ghastly time, up and down enormous waves hour after hour, usually wet to
the skin, and not even an attempt at giving us proper meals. Needless to say
there's no wireless or even a rocket, so no chance of signalling anyone for
help. It all proves what I keep on telling them, the madness of setting out in a
rotten little tub like this. It would be bad enough even if one was with decent
people instead of fiends in human form. Caspian and Edmund are simply brutal to
me. The night we lost our mast (there's only a stump left now), though I was not
at all well, they forced me to come on deck and work like a slave. Lucy shoved
her oar in by saying that Reepicheep was longing to go only he was too small. I
wonder she doesn't see that everything that little beast does is all for the
sake of showing off. Even at her age she ought to have that amount of sense.
Today the beastly boat is level at last and the sun's out and we have all been
jawing about what to do. We have food enough, pretty beastly stuff most of it,
to last for sixteen days. (The poultry were all washed overboard. Even if they
hadn't been, the storm would have stopped them laying.) The real trouble is
water. Two casks seem to have got a leak knocked in them and are empty. (Narnian
efficiency again.) On short rations, half a pint a day each, we've got enough
for twelve days. (There's still lots of rum and wine but even they realize that
would only make them thirstier.)
"If we could, of course, the sensible thing would be to turn west at once and
make for the Lone Islands. But it took us eighteen days to get where we are,
running like mad with a gale behind us. Even if we got an east wind it might
take us far longer to get back. And at present there's no sign of an east wind -
in fact there's no wind at all. As for rowing back, it would take far too long
and Caspian says the men couldn't row on half a pint of water a day. I'm pretty
sure this is wrong. I tried to explain that perspiration really cools people
down, so the men would need less water if they were working. He didn't take any
notice of this, which is always his way when he can't think of an answer. The
others all voted for going on in the hope of finding land. I felt it my duty to
point out that we didn't know there was any land ahead and tried to get them to
see the dangers of wishful thinking. Instead of producing a better plan they had
the cheek to ask me what I proposed. So I just explained coolly and quietly that
I had been kidnapped and brought away on this idiotic voyage without my consent,
and it was hardly my business to get them out of their scrape.
"4 September. Still becalmed. Very short rations for dinner and I got less than
anyone. Caspian is very clever at helping and thinks I don't see! Lucy for some
reason tried to make up to me by offering me some of hers but that interfering
prig Edmund wouldn't let her. Pretty hot sun. Terribly thirsty all evening.
"5 September. Still becalmed and very hot. Feeling rotten all day and am sure
I've got a temperature. Of course they haven't the sense to keep a thermometer
on board.
"6 September. A horrible day. Woke up in the night knowing I was feverish and
must have a drink of water. Any doctor would have said so. Heaven knows I'm the
last person to try to get any unfair advantage but I never dreamed that this
water-rationing would be meant to apply to a sick man. In fact I would have
woken the others up and asked for some only I thought it would be selfish to
wake them. So I got up and took my cup and tiptoed out of the Black Hole we
slept in, taking great care not to disturb Caspian and Edmund, for they've been
sleeping badly since the heat and the short water began. I always try to
consider others whether they are nice to me or not. I got out all right into the
big room, if you can call it a room, where the rowing benches and the luggage
are. The thing of water is at this end. All was going beautifully, but before
I'd drawn a cupful who should catch me but that little spy Reep. I tried to
explain that I was going on deck for a breath of air (the business about the
water had nothing to do with him) and he asked me why I had a cup. He made such
a noise that the whole ship was roused. They treated me scandalously. I asked,
as I think anyone would have, why Reepicheep was sneaking about the water cask
in the middle of the night. He said that as he was too small to be any use on
deck, he did sentry over the water every night so that one more man could go to
sleep. Now comes their rotten unfairness: they all believed him. Can you beat
it?
"I had to apologize or the dangerous little brute would have been at me with his
sword. And then Caspian showed up in his true colours as a brutal tyrant and
said out loud for everyone to hear that anyone found "stealing" water in future
would "get two dozen". I didn't know what this meant till Edmund explained to
me. It comes in the sort of books those Pevensie kids read.
"After this cowardly threat Caspian changed his tune and started being
patronizing. Said he was sorry for me and that everyone felt just as feverish as
I did and we must all make the best of it, etc., etc. Odious stuck-up prig.
Stayed in bed all day today.
"7 September. A little wind today but still from the west.
Made a few miles eastward with part of the sail, set on what Drinian calls the
jury-mast-that means the bowsprit set upright and tied (they call it "lashed")
to the stump of the real mast. Still terribly thirsty.
"8 September. Still sailing east. I stay in my bunk all day now and see no one
except Lucy till the two fiends come to bed. Lucy gives me a little of her water
ration. She says girls don't get as thirsty as boys. I had often thought this
but it ought to be more generally known at sea.
"9 September. Land in sight; a very high mountain a long way off to the
south-east.
"10 September. The mountain is bigger and clearer but still a long way off.
Gulls again today for the first time since I don't know how long.
"11 September. Caught some fish and had them for dinner. Dropped anchor at about
7 p.m. in three fathoms of water in a bay of this mountainous island. That idiot
Caspian wouldn't let us go ashore because it was getting dark and he was afraid
of savages and wild beasts. Extra water ration tonight."
What awaited them on this island was going to concern Eustace more than anyone
else, but it cannot be told in his words because after September 11 he forgot
about keeping his diary for a long time.
When morning came, with a low, grey sky but very hot, the adventurers found they
were in a bay encircled by such cliffs and crags that it was like a Norwegian
fjord. In front of them, at the head of the bay, there was some level land
heavily overgrown with trees that appeared to be cedars, through which a rapid
stream came out. Beyond that was a steep ascent ending in a jagged ridge and
behind that a vague darkness of mountains which ran into dull-coloured clouds so
that you could not see their tops. The nearer cliffs, at each side of the bay,
were streaked here and there with lines of white which everyone knew to be
waterfalls, though at that distance they did not show any movement or make any
noise. Indeed the whole place was very silent and the water of the bay as smooth
as glass. It reflected every detail of the cliffs. The scene would have been
pretty in a picture but was rather oppressive in real life. It was not a country
that welcomed visitors.
The whole ship's company went ashore in two boatloads and everyone drank and
washed deliciously in the river and had a meal and a rest before Caspian sent
four men back to keep the ship, and the day's work began. There was everything
to be done. The casks must be brought ashore and the faulty ones mended if
possible and all refilled; a tree - a pine if they could get it - must be felled
and made into a new mast; sails must be repaired; a hunting party organized to
shoot any game the land might yield; clothes to be washed and mended; and
countless small breakages on board to be set right. For the Dawn Treader herself
- and this was more obvious now that they saw her at a distance - could hardly
be recognized as the same gallant ship which had left Narrowhaven. She looked a
crippled, discoloured hulk which anyone might have taken for a wreck. And her
officers and crew were no better - lean, pale, red-eyed from lack of sleep, and
dressed in rags.
As Eustace lay under a tree and heard all these plans being discussed his heart
sank. Was there going to be no rest? It looked as if their first day on the
longed-for land was going to be quite as hard work as a day at sea. Then a
delightful idea occurred to him. Nobody was looking they were all chattering
about their ship as if they actually liked the beastly thing. Why shouldn't he
simply slip away? He would take a stroll inland, find a cool, airy place up in
the mountains, have a good long sleep, and not rejoin the others till the day's
work was over. He felt it would do him good. But he would take great care to
keep the bay and the ship in sight so as to be sure of his way back. He wouldn't
like to be left behind in this country.
He at once put his plan into action. He rose quietly from his place and walked
away among the trees, taking care to go slowly and in an aimless manner so that
anyone who saw him would think he was merely stretching his legs. He was
surprised to find how quickly the noise of conversation died away behind hiin
and how very silent and warm and dark green the wood became. Soon he felt he
could venture on a quicker and more determined stride.
This soon brought him out of the wood. The ground began sloping steeply up in
front of him. The grass was dry and slippery but manageable if he used his hands
as well as his feet, and though he panted and mopped his forehead a good deal,
he plugged away steadily. This showed, by the way, that his new life, little as
he suspected it, had already done him some good; the old Eustace, Harold and
Alberta's Eustace, would have given up the climb after about ten minutes.
Slowly, and with several rests, he reached the ridge. Here he had expected to
have a view into the heart of the island, but the clouds had now come lower and
nearer and a sea of fog was rolling to meet him. He sat down and looked back. He
was now so high that the bay looked small beneath him and miles of sea were
visible. Then the fog from the mountains closed in all round him, thick but not
cold, and he lay down and turned this way and that to find the most comfortable
position to enjoy himself.
But he didn't enjoy himself, or not for very long. He began, almost for the
first time in his life, to feel lonely. At first this feeling grew very
gradually. And then he began to worry about the time. There was not the
slightest sound. Suddenly it occurred to him that he might have been lying there
for hours. Perhaps the others had gone! Perhaps they had let him wander away on
purpose simply in order to leave him behind! He leaped up in a panic and began
the descent.
At first he tried to do it too quickly, slipped on the steep grass, and slid for
several feet. Then he thought this had carried him too far to the left - and as
he came up he had seen precipices on that side. So he clambered up again, as
near as he could guess to the place he had started from, and began the descent
afresh, bearing to his right. After that things seemed to be going better. He
went very cautiously, for he could not see more than a yard ahead, and there was
still perfect silence all around him. It is very unpleasant to have to go
cautiously when there is a voice inside you saying all the time, "Hurry, hurry,
hurry." For every moment the terrible idea of being left behind grew stronger.
If he had understood Caspian and the Pevensies at all he would have known, of
course, that there was not the least chance of their doing any such thing. But
he had persuaded himself that they were all fiends in human form.
"At last!" said Eustace as he came slithering down a slide of loose stones
(scree, they call it) and found himself on the level. "And now, where are those
trees? There is something dark ahead. Why, I do believe the fog is clearing."
It was. The light increased every moment and made him blink. The fog lifted. He
was in an utterly unknown valley and the sea was nowhere in sight.
