leave me to stand a foot deep in water, nor did I regard that
in the light of a hardship. It was not on this account I had such
uncomfortable imaginings. It was altogether a different thought that
was vexing me. It was the doubt I entertained of the _faithfulness_ of
this watermark. I knew that the white line indicated the height of the
full tide under ordinary circumstances, and that when the sea was calm,
the surface would coincide with the mark; but only when it was dead
calm. Now it was not calm at that moment. There was enough of breeze
to have raised the waves at least a foot in height--perhaps two feet.
If so, then two-thirds, or even three-fourths, of my body would be under
water--to say nothing of the spray which would be certain to drive
around me. This, however, was still far less than I had to fear.
Supposing that the breeze should continue to freshen--supposing a storm
should come on--nay, even an ordinary gale--then, indeed, the slight
elevation which I had obtained above the surface would be of no avail;
for during storms I had often observed the white spray lashing over that
very reef, and rising many feet above the head of the signal-staff.
"Oh! if a storm should arise, then am I lost indeed!"
Every now and then was I pained with such an apprehension.
True, the probabilities were in my favour. It was the fair month of
May, and the morning of that day one of the finest I had ever seen. In
any other month, a storm would have been more regular; but there are
storms even in May, and weather that on shore may seem smiling and
bright, is, for all that, windy and gusty upon the bosom of the broad
sea, and causes destruction to many a fine ship. Moreover, it did not
need to be a hurricane; far less than an ordinary gale would be
sufficient to overwhelm me, or sweep me from the precarious footing upon
which I stood.
Another apprehension troubled me: my cairn was far too loosely put
together. I had not attempted to make any building of the thing; there
was not time for that. The stones had been hurled or huddled on top of
one another, just as they dropped out of my hands; and as I set my feet
upon them I felt they were far from firm. What if they should not prove
enough so to resist the current of the returning tide, or the lashing of
the waves? Should they not, then indeed I had laboured in vain. Should
they fall, I must fall with them, never again to rise!
No wonder that this added anot
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