A sharp
promontory ran out upon its northern side, and within the shelter of
this Captain Pomery looked to find good anchorage. But the
_Gauntlet_, after all her battering, lay so poorly to the wind that
darkness overtook us a good mile from land, and before we weathered
the point and cast anchor in a little bight within, the moon had
risen. It showed us a steep shore near at hand, with many grey
pinnacles of granite glimmering high over dark masses of forest
trees, and in the farthest angle of the bight its rays travelled in
silver down the waters of a miniature creek.
The hawser ran out into five fathoms of water. We had lost our boat:
but Billy Priske had spent his afternoon in fashioning a raft out of
four empty casks and a dozen broken lengths of deck-planking; and on
this, leaving the seamen on board, the rest of us pushed off for
shore. For paddles we used a couple of spare oars.
The water, smooth as in a lake, gave us our choice to make a landing
where we would. My father, however, who had taken command, chose to
steer straight for the entrance of the little creek.
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