Finally, however, the man with the everlasting dun ventured into a dream from which Charmian was absent.It was my opportunity, and we went at it, gloriously, all over the sidewalk and street, until he cried enough.Then I said, "Now how about that bill?" Having conquered, I was willing to pay.But the man looked at me and groaned."It was all a mistake," he said; "the bill is for the house next door."That settled him, for he worried my dreams no more; and it settled me, too, for I woke up chuckling at the episode.It was three in the morning.I went up on deck.Henry, the Rapa islander, was steering.I looked at the log.It recorded forty-two miles.The Snark had not abated her six-knot gait, and she had not struck Futuna yet.At half-past five I was again on deck.Wada, at the wheel, had seen no land.I sat on the cockpit rail, a prey to morbid doubt for a quarter of an hour.Then I saw land, a small, high piece of land, just where it ought to be, rising from the water on the weather-bow.At six o'clock I could clearly make it out to be the beautiful volcanic cone of Futuna.At eight o'clock, when it was abreast, I took its distance by the sextant and found it to be 9.3 miles away.And I had elected to pass it 10 miles away!
Then, to the south, Aneiteum rose out of the sea, to the north, Aniwa, and, dead ahead, Tanna.There was no mistaking Tanna, for the smoke of its volcano was towering high in the sky.It was forty miles away, and by afternoon, as we drew close, never ceasing to log our six knots, we saw that it was a mountainous, hazy land, with no apparent openings in its coast-line.I was looking for Port Resolution, though I was quite prepared to find that as an anchorage, it had been destroyed.Volcanic earthquakes had lifted its bottom during the last forty years, so that where once the largest ships rode at anchor there was now, by last reports, scarcely space and depth sufficient for the Snark.And why should not another convulsion, since the last report, have closed the harbour completely?
I ran in close to the unbroken coast, fringed with rocks awash upon which the crashing trade-wind sea burst white and high.I searched with my glasses for miles, but could see no entrance.I took a compass bearing of Futuna, another of Aniwa, and laid them off on the chart.Where the two bearings crossed was bound to be the position of the Snark.Then, with my parallel rulers, I laid down a course from the Snark's position to Port Resolution.Having corrected this course for variation and deviation, I went on deck, and lo, the course directed me towards that unbroken coast-line of bursting seas.To my Rapa islander's great concern, I held on till the rocks awash were an eighth of a mile away.
"No harbour this place," he announced, shaking his head ominously.
But I altered the course and ran along parallel with the coast.
Charmian was at the wheel.Martin was at the engine, ready to throw on the propeller.A narrow silt of an opening showed up suddenly.
Through the glasses I could see the seas breaking clear across.
Henry, the Rapa man, looked with troubled eyes; so did Tehei, the Tahaa man.
"No passage, there," said Henry."We go there, we finish quick, sure."I confess I thought so, too; but I ran on abreast, watching to see if the line of breakers from one side the entrance did not overlap the line from the other side.Sure enough, it did.A narrow place where the sea ran smooth appeared.Charmian put down the wheel and steadied for the entrance.Martin threw on the engine, while all hands and the cook sprang to take in sail.
A trader's house showed up in the bight of the bay.A geyser, on the shore, a hundred yards away; spouted a column of steam.To port, as we rounded a tiny point, the mission station appeared.
"Three fathoms," cried Wada at the lead-line."Three fathoms," "two fathoms," came in quick succession.
Charmian put the wheel down, Martin stopped the engine, and the Snark rounded to and the anchor rumbled down in three fathoms.
Before we could catch our breaths a swarm of black Tannese was alongside and aboard--grinning, apelike creatures, with kinky hair and troubled eyes, wearing safety-pins and clay-pipes in their slitted ears: and as for the rest, wearing nothing behind and less than that before.And I don't mind telling that that night, when everybody was asleep, I sneaked up on deck, looked out over the quiet scene, and gloated--yes, gloated--over my navigation.
