New Found Land Read Online Free PDF Page A

They left him to scramble for the paddles and he had the vague thought that he ought to lend a hand, but all his energy was taken up in shivering. He drifted along the edge of consciousness. After a long time he was aware that Brad and Bos were holding him again, and that the raft still floated. So there was no landfall after all. It didn’t matter: nothing mattered.
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    He fell eventually into a deep sleep. Awaking he felt a bit better and even managed to sit up. The sun was at its zenith; and while he was far from warm, the cold was not quite so bitter. He felt thirsty and asked for water. He learned something unpleasant then. Theamphora which was the main freshwater container had gone overboard when he did. Only the contents of the flask were left—a few mouthfuls each.
    He asked about the land Bos had sighted. They told him it had been in view upwards of an hour, but though they had fancied at first they were making progress towards it, the current had carried them on past. He said: “I ought to have helped.”
    Bos shrugged. “It would have made no difference. A kitten would have pulled as strongly. Eat, Simonus, so you can help next time.”
    While he chewed on a piece of meat, Brad spoke to him in English: “I was right about the current. What I got wrong was our original position. I figured we were somewhere on the Maine coast, but I realize now we must have been much further north—Nova Scotia, probably. The current did take us south-west, but across open sea. The land we saw was probably Cape Cod. And if we’re on the same drift, there’s a chance of making Nantucket. We’ve three or four hours of daylight, and that should be enough to give us a sighting.”
    Simon started to reply, but was prevented by a cry from Curtius.
    â€œLook over there! Is that land?”
    There was something, certainly, that was neither sea nor sky. Sunlight glinted from a long level whiteness. They were drifting slowly towards it.
    It was Bos who spoke: “No, not land. Sea mist.”
    As they got nearer, its appearance became less uniform; there were rifts and eddyings. Tendrils of mist began to curl up out of the sea. The sun dimmed, brightened slightly, dimmed further. It was a disk of pale yellow, of white and barely visible against the white all round; then it was gone. The mist hemmed them in completely, a filthy grey now and sharply chilling.
    They could see no more than a few yards from the raft’s edge. Even if Brad’s guess had been right, they could pass within fifty yards—fifty feet—of land and never know it. The mist had robbed them of the few remaining hours of daylight. After that there would be night again, and open sea.
    No one felt like talking; even Bos, who had previously been a source of encouragement, fell silent. The only sound was the slap of water against the raft’s timbers. Somewhere overhead the sun was moving relentlessly down to its setting. Time passed.How long had it been, Simon wondered—one hour, two? Three, even? Was the mist beginning to darken? He had a feeling it was.
    The apparition that unexpectedly loomed over them was frightening in quite a different way from the whales. The size of the creatures against the smallness of the raft had been the main factor then. This was something of a different order: a shock of realizing that fairy stories, nightmares, could come true. The incredible head of the sea serpent gaped down at them, with gleaming teeth. Simon’s own cry of fear was lost in those of the rest. And there were other sounds—shouts coming out of the mist. Wood splintered, and he had time to see a broken oar flail through the air towards his head before the raft jerked and lifted, and once again he found himself tossed into the sea.
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    Simon was first to be picked up, but the rest quickly followed. Brad and Curtius had managed to cling to the