Suddenly he shot down a smooth slope,
and without effort of his own found himself borne up an opposing steep,
from the crest of which he had a view of white lines of foam, and beyond
them of a dim and rocky shore. At one spot, a little to his right, the
foam seemed thinner and the line of cliff to be broken, as though here
there was a cleft. For this cleft, then, he steered his plank, taking
the swell obliquely, which by good fortune the set of the tide enabled
him to do without any great exertion.
The valleys grew deeper, and the tops of the opposing ridges were
crested with foam. He had entered the rollers, and the struggle for life
began. Before him they rushed solemn and mighty. Viewed from some safe
place even the sight of these combers is terrible, as any who have
watched them from this coast, or from that of the Island of Ascension,
can bear witness. What their aspect was to this shipwrecked man,
supported by a single plank, may therefore be imagined, seen, as he
saw them, in the mysterious moonlight and in utter loneliness. Yet his
spirit rose to meet the dread emergency; if he were to die, he would die
fighting. He had grown cold and tired, but now the chill and weariness
left him; he felt warm and strong. From the crest of one of the high
rollers he thought he saw that about half a mile away from him a little
river ran down the centre of the gorge, and for the mouth of this river
he laid his course.
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