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I awoke and found myself still tossing in the sea.

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The sun was rising behind Spyglass Hill, and from my perspective, I could see one side of the hill descending into the sea.

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This side of Spyglass was bare, with cliffs about fifty feet high and fallen rock spilling into the ocean at its base.

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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.

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"Just look at those huge waves crashing on the rocks," I said to myself.

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"I'll be dashed to pieces. Even if I could make it through the waves, I'd die trying to climb the cliffs."

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In addition to the waves and the rocks, there were strange monsters crawling together in large groups on the bigger, flatter rocks.

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They looked like giant soft snails, and when they roared, the rocky cliffs echoed. Some dove into the sea with loud splashes.

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I've since discovered they were harmless sea lions, but they were another reason I didn't want to land on that shore.

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"I'd rather starve at sea," I thought.

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I remembered that the map indicated that the Cape of the Woods was south of my position.

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The cape had a long stretch of yellow sand, and I felt I'd have a better chance landing there.

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The smooth, blue swells of the sea rose and fell, and lucky for me, my little boat rode them well.

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I lay still at the bottom of the boat and peered up at the big, blue waves rising close by.

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"Thank God for Ben Gunn's little boat," I thought.

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I sat up and tried to paddle a little.

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Immediately, the movement made the boat unsteady, and it ran straight down a steep slope of water, striking the next wave nose first.

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Drenched and terrified, I quickly lay back down again.

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"I'll never reach land!" I cried, frightened.

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But the boat instantly righted itself among the surging waves.

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"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."

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It was slow and tiring work, but I made progress.

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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.

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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.

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The trees on the beach looked so close, and I felt sick with longing.

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Then suddenly I saw a familiar sight.

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Not half a mile away, the <font color="#ffff00"><i>Hispaniola</i></font> was sailing north.

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"I don't care if they capture me," I thought. "I need water."

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The <font color="#ffff00"><i>Hispaniola</i></font>'s beautiful, white canvas sails shone like silver in the sun,

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and I guessed that the men on board were sailing around the island and back to the anchorage. But soon, the ship turned westward.

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"They see me," I thought. "They're turning around to pick me up."

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But then the <font color="#ffff00"><i>Hispaniola</i></font>'s sails suddenly lost the wind, and the ship stood there, helpless.

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"Stupid fellows," I said. "They're still drunk."

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A breeze came up and the sails gradually filled again; the <font color="#ffff00"><i>Hispaniola</i></font> sailed swiftly for a minute, and then once more lost the wind.

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This happene again and again, to and fro, up and down, north, south, east, and west, as the <font color="#ffff00"><i>Hispaniola</i></font>'s sails flapped idly.

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"Nobody's steering!" I realized. "If I can board the ship, I can return it to the captain.

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And there's drinking water on board! I can taste it already."

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The thought of a cool drink motivated me to try to reach the ship, so I sat up and started paddling.

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I had to stop and bail water out of the boat occasionally,

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but I swiftly learned to glide through the waves, with only occasional blasts of water and foam hitting me in the face.

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I quickly neared the <font color="#ffff00"><i>Hispaniola</i></font> and could see that even though the ship was jerking back and forth, no one appeared upon her decks.

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"She must be deserted," I thought. "If not, the men are lying drunk below.

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When I get on board, I'll lock them in the cabin."

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At last, the wind died down, and the <font color="#ffff00"><i>Hispaniola</i></font> revolved slowly in the current.

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The stern cabin window was still open, and the lamp over the table was still burning.

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The mainsail drooped like a limp rag.

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"Finally the ship has stopped," I said to myself, relieved. "Now I can board her."

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But one second later, the wind started up again, and the next thing I knew, the <font color="#ffff00"><i>Hispaniola</i></font> was sailing straight toward me!

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"I'll be crushed!" I cried out. "Help me!"

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No one answered; no one was there, so I closed my eyes and waited for death.

51
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Miraculously, at the last moment, the ship suddenly turned a few feet to the right from its lethal course;

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this movement brought the huge vessel right up next to me.

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The <font color="#ffff00"><i>Hispaniola</i></font> looked immensely tall from my low position in Ben Gunn's boat.

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But within moments, a huge swell rose up underneath me, and the ship's bowsprit was right over my head.

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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.

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As I clung there, panting, a dull and sickening thud told me that the ship had struck and crushed Ben Gunn's boat.

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I was saved, but now I had no way to get off the <font color="#ffff00"><i>Hispaniola</i></font>.

