Mahomed clambered aft, and got hold of the tiller, and with some difficulty Job, who had sometimes pulled a tub upon the homely Cam, got out his oar.In another minute the boat's head was straight on to the ever-nearing foam, towards which she plunged and tore with the speed of a racehorse.Just in front of us the first line of breakers seemed a little thinner than to the right or leftthere was a gap of rather deeper water.I turned and pointed to it.
"Steer for your life, Mahomed!" I yelled.He was a skilful steersman, and well acquainted with the dangers of this most perilous coast, and I saw him grip the tiller and bend his heavy frame forward, and stare at the foaming terror till his big round eyes looked as though they would start out of his head.The send of the sea was driving the boat's head round to starboard.If we struck the line of breakers fifty yards to starboard of the gap we must sink.It was a great field of twisting, spouting waves.Mahomed planted his foot against the seat before him, and, glancing at him I saw his brown toes spread out like a hand with the weight he put upon them as he took the strain of the tiller.She came round a bit, but not enough.I roared to Job to back water, while I dragged and labored at my oar.She answered now, and none too soon.
Heavens, we were in them! And then followed a couple of minutes of heartbreaking excitement such as Icannot hope to describe.All I remember is a shrieking sea of foam, out of which the billows rose here, there, and everywhere, like avenging ghosts from their ocean grave.Once we were turned right round, but either by chance, or through Mahomed's skilful steering, the boat's head came straight again before a breaker filled us.One morea monster.We were through it or over itmore through than overand then, with a wild yell of exultation from the Arab, we shot out into the comparatively smooth water of the mouth of sea between the teeth like lines of gnashing waves.