The Argosy, January 1907 — page 25: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

IN THE DEPTHS OF DISASTER. A gleam of intelligence came to heart- en me, and I called to Billy, who I saw was close beset again. ‘Come over here, Billy, and sit down to rest. When they get too close, Pll drive them back again. By taking turns we can manage all right—can even get what sleep we need.” ‘So we can,” Billy answered with a ring of hope in his voice, and he forth- with plowed through the crabs to my side, where he seated himself with a sigh of relief. ‘But after a little while he spoke again, very gravely. “We can stand them off easily as long as we have the strength. But when the food is gone, and the water, then——” Silence fell—a silence broken only by the subtle clatter of the ghostly white crawling things that strove ever to come closer and closer. CHAPTER VI. NIGHTS OF HORROR. Bur with the dawn came that which seemed to us a miracle. The first glow of the sun brought a little cheer to the two of us, worn of body and soul by the dreadful night, but we looked for noth- ing beyond the relief that hes in light after darkness. As the day began to break, however, a new movement agitated the millions clustered about us. At first, at the in- creased sound I thought that the loath- some legions were about to charge us, moved by some diabolical intelligence above their own. But in a moment I perceived that the motion was retrograde. I watched in amazed incredulity. I could not believe the blessed fact. But it was true. — The whole body was hastening, crawl- ing its liveliest back to the sea. Little by little the open place about us was growing. In a few minutes its size was doubled+—then trebled. This was no chance movement; it was an organized retreat. The crabs were returning into the sea. We gazed at the unexpected sight with profound joy. “Thank God!” Billy said at last. And I echoed an ‘* Amen.” 207 We felt safe from them now. They might come again, or they might not. At least we were rid of them for the present, and could take our fill of sleep and rest. We knew that should they reappear while we were slumbering their first con- tact with us would awaken us. And we dared hope that they would not return. We decided that only some bizarre prank of nature had thus driven the multi- tudes upon the cay. Afterward, I learned that it was the habit of the creatures to leave the sea for the land at night and to withdraw again into the water at the first approach of dawn. So great was the effect of this deliverance that we breakfasted in good spirits. We ven- tured to think that possibly Fate had turned in our favor. But if so, the fur- ther evidence of it did not at once ap- pear. For another gale arose, and it was, I judged, even more violent than the one through which we had sailed. It began about noon, and continued steadily to increase in fury. ‘The sea had been rough still from the first blow, and now the waves beyond the reefs grew to tremendous propor- tions, so that I was for the moment thankful for our refuge on the cay. But our situation, while in no way dangerous, was full of acute discomfort. As Billy declared, it was the deuce of a mess. We had no shelter of any kind,. and the rain fell in torrents. Hour after hour passed, and we could do nothing but crouch in sodden desolation on the sand, turning from time to time to offer a new front to the rage of the storm. But the rain lessened by degrees as evening approached, so that I began to hope for better things. How vain was that hope! It was when darkness had fallen that trouble came again. ‘The advancing line of crabs issued from the sea. “Great Heaven! they’re coming again!” Billy cried, and shuddered. “Yes,” I said, and groaned. There was no help for it; we were doomed to another night of suffering with the hosts. We were only thankful that we could fight set turn and turn about. “TH take the first watch,” I told CORNICLOOOKS (C@)