My canoe scraped
its keel upon the shoals as I dodged the broken
oyster reefs, called here "oyster rocks," while on
the passage down to Watchapreague Inlet.
The
tide was very low, but the water deepened as
the beach was approached. A northeaster was
blowing freshly, and I was looking for a lee
under the beach, when suddenly the canoe shot
around a sandy point, and was tugging for life in
the rough waters of the inlet. The tide was
running in from the sea with the force of a rapid,
and the short, quick puffs of wind tossed the
waves wildly. It was useless to attempt to turn
the canoe back to the beach in such rough water,
but, intent on keeping the boat above the caps, I
gave her all the momentum that muscular power
could exert, as she was headed for the southern
point of the beach, across the dangerous inlet.
Though it was only half a mile across, the
passage of Watchapreague taxed me severely.
Waves washed over my canoe, but the gallant
little craft after each rebuff rose like a bird to
the surface of the water, answering the slightest
touch of my oar better than the best-trained
steed. After entering the south-side swash, the
wind struck me on the back, and seas came
tumbling over and around the boat, fairly forcing me
on to the beach. As we flew along, the
tumultuous waters made my head swim; so, to
prevent mental confusion, I kept my eyes only upon
the oars, which, strange to say, never betrayed
me into a false stroke.
As a heavy blast beat down the raging sea for
a moment, I looked over my shoulder and
beheld the low, sandy dunes of the southern shore
of the inlet close at hand, and with a severe jolt
the canoe grounded high on the strand. I
leaped out and drew my precious craft away
from the tide, breathing a prayer of thankfulness
for my escape from danger, and mentally vowing
that the canoe should cross all other treacherous
inlets in a fisherman's sloop. I went into camp
in a hollow of the beach, where the sand-hills
protected me from the piercing wind. All that
afternoon I watched from my burrow in the
ground the raging of the elements, and towards
evening was pleased to note a general subsidence
of wind and sea.
The canoe was again put into the water and
the thoroughfare followed southward for a mile
or two, when the short day ended, leaving me
beside a marshy island, which was fringed with
an oyster-bed of sharp-beaked bivalves.
Stepping overboard in the mud and water, the oars
and paddle were laid upon the shell reef to
protect the canoe, which was dragged on to the
marsh. It grew colder as the wind died out.
The marsh was wet, and no fire-wood could be
found. The canvas cover was removed, the cargo
was piled up on a platform of oars and shells to
secure it from the next tide, and then I slowly
and laboriously packed myself away in the narrow
shell for the night.
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