We had not, however, been in
this position more than half an hour, when a heavy southerly swell set
in; from a deep blue the water became green, and the wind suddenly flew
round to the S.W. Before we could weigh and stand out from the shore,
several seas had broken outside of us, and in less than ten minutes the
whole coast, to the distance of more than a mile from the shore, was
white with foam, and it seemed clear that a gale was coming on. Under
these circumstances I determined on returning to the little harbour from
which we had started in the morning, but the wind being directly against
us, we made very little head. "We shall never get to the Nob," said Mr.
Witch, who had the steer oar, to me; "it blows too hard, Sir." "What are
we to do, then?" said I. "Why, Sir," he replied, "we must either beach or
run out to sea," "We will beach, then," I said; "it is better to try that
than to do any thing else." Mr Witch evinced some surprise at my
decision, but made no remark. "You had better select your place," I
observed, "and be careful to keep the boat's head well on to the seas."
"You need not fear me, Sir," said the hardy seaman; "I am accustomed to
such work. It looks worse than it really is." The sea, however, was now
breaking full a mile and a half from the shore, and in looking towards it
I observed a solitary horseman riding slowly along, as if watching our
movements.
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