I awoke and found myself still tossing in the sea. The sun was rising behind Spyglass Hill, and from my perspective, I could see one side of the hill descending into the sea. This side of Spyglass was bare, with cliffs about fifty feet high and fallen rock spilling into the ocean at its base. I was about a quarter of a mile out at sea and my first thought was to paddle in, but I soon gave up that idea.
"Just look at those huge waves crashing on the rocks," I said to myself. "I’ll be dashed to pieces. Even if I could make it through the waves, I’d die trying to climb the cliffs."
In addition to the waves and the rocks, there were strange monsters crawling together in large groups on the bigger, flatter rocks. They looked like giant soft snails, and when they roared, the rocky cliffs echoed. Some dove into the sea with loud splashes. I’ve since discovered they were harmless sea lions, but they were another reason I didn’t want to land on that shore. "I’d rather starve at sea," I thought.
I remembered that the map indicated that the Cape of the Woods was south of my position. The cape had a long stretch of yellow sand, and I felt I’d have a better chance landing there.
The smooth, blue swells of the sea rose and fell, and lucky for me, my little boat rode them well. I lay still at the bottom of the boat and peered up at the big, blue waves rising close by.
"Thank God for Ben Gunn’s little boat," I thought.
I sat up and tried to paddle a little. Immediately, the movement made the boat unsteady, and it ran straight down a steep slope of water, striking the next wave nose first. Drenched and terrified, I quickly lay back down again.
"I’ll never reach land!" I cried, frightened. But the boat instantly righted itself among the surging waves.
"I mustn’t panic," I told myself. "If I don’t disturb the boat’s balance, I can paddle over one side in between swells."
It was slow and tiring work, but I made progress. Even though I was still too far out from Cape of the Woods to land, I knew I’d surely hit the beach at some point. But I was tortured by thirst. The harsh sun on my body and the sea salt on my lips made my throat burn and my brain ache. The trees on the beach looked so close, and I felt sick with longing. Then suddenly I saw a familiar sight. Not half a mile away, the Hispaniola was sailing north.
"I don’t care if they capture me," I thought. "I need water."
The Hispaniola’s beautiful, white canvas sails shone like silver in the sun, and I guessed that the men on board were sailing around the island and back to the anchorage. But soon, the ship turned westward.
"They see me," I thought. "They’re turning around to pick me up."
But then the Hispaniola’s sails suddenly lost the wind, and the ship stood there, helpless.
"Stupid fellows," I said. "They’re still drunk."
A breeze came up and the sails gradually filled again; the Hispaniola sailed swiftly for a minute, and then once more lost the wind. This happened again and again, to and fro, up and down, north, south, east, and west, as the Hispaniola’s sails flapped idly.
"Nobody’s steering!" I realized. "If I can board the ship, I can return it to the captain. And there’s drinking water on board! I can taste it already."
The thought of a cool drink motivated me to try to reach the ship, so I sat up and started paddling. I had to stop and bail water out of the boat occasionally, but I swiftly learned to glide through the waves, with only occasional blasts of water and foam hitting me in the face. I quickly neared the Hispaniola and could see that even though the ship was jerking back and forth, no one appeared upon her decks.
"She must be deserted," I thought. "If not, the men are lying drunk below. When I get on board, I’ll lock them in the cabin."
At last, the wind died down, and the Hispaniola revolved slowly in the current. The stern cabin window was still open, and the lamp over the table was still burning. The mainsail drooped like a limp rag.
"Finally the ship has stopped," I said to myself, relieved. "Now I can board her."
But one second later, the wind started up again, and the next thing I knew, the Hispaniola was sailing straight toward me!
"I’ll be crushed!" I cried out. "Help me!"
No one answered; no one was there, so I closed my eyes and waited for death.
Miraculously, at the last moment, the ship suddenly turned a few feet to the right from its lethal course; this movement brought the huge vessel right up next to me. The Hispaniola looked immensely tall from my low position in Ben Gunn’s boat. But within moments, a huge swell rose up underneath me, and the ship’s bowsprit was right over my head. Without thinking, I leaped. I grabbed onto the long pole sticking out from the front of the ship with one hand and wedged my foot between two ropes. As I clung there, panting, a dull and sickening thud told me that the ship had struck and crushed Ben Gunn’s boat. I was saved, but now I had no way to get off the Hispaniola.