I had sailed over oceans; I have
since completed a course over them all, and sailed round the whole
world without so nearly meeting a fatality as on that trip across a
lagoon, where I trusted all to some one else, and he, weak mortal that
he was, perhaps trusted all to me. However that may be, I found myself
with a thoughtless African negro in a rickety bateau that was fitted
with a rotten sail, and this blew away in mid-channel in a squall,
that sent us drifting helplessly to sea, where we should have been
incontinently lost. With the whole ocean before us to leeward, I was
dismayed to see, while we drifted, that there was not a paddle or an
oar in the boat! There was an anchor, to be sure, but not enough rope
to tie a cat, and we were already in deep water. By great good
fortune, however, there was a pole. Plying this as a paddle with the
utmost energy, and by the merest accidental flaw in the wind to favor
us, the trap of a boat was worked into shoal water, where we could
touch bottom and push her ashore. With Africa, the nearest coast to
leeward, three thousand miles away, with not so much as a drop of
water in the boat, and a lean and hungry negro--well, cast the lot as
one might, the crew of the _Spray_ in a little while would have been
hard to find. It is needless to say that I took no more such chances.
The tridacna were afterward procured in a safe boat, thirty of them
taking the place of three tons of cement ballast, which I threw
overboard to make room and give buoyancy.
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