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The send of the sea was driving the boat's head round
to starboard. If we struck the line of breakers fifty yards to starboard
of the gap we must sink. It was a great field of twisting, spouting
waves. Mahomed planted his foot against the seat before him, and,
glancing at him, I saw his brown toes spread out like a hand with the
weight he put upon them as he took the strain of the tiller. She came
round a bit, but not enough. I roared to Job to back water, whilst I
dragged and laboured at my oar. She answered now, and none too soon.
Heavens, we were in them! And then followed a couple of minutes of
heart-breaking excitement such as I cannot hope to describe. All that I
remember is a shrieking sea of foam, out of which the billows rose here,
there, and everywhere like avenging ghosts from their ocean grave. Once
we were turned right round, but either by chance, or through Mahomed's
skilful steering, the boat's head came straight again before a breaker
filled us. One more--a monster.


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