So I thought it
well to get out of range before I tried to get on board, and so
held the gunwale with one hand and paddled on with the other, until
the arrows began to fall short, and at last ceased. A Welshman's
bow has no long range, so that I had not far to go thus. But all
the while I feared most of all to hear the plash of oars that would
tell me that they had put off another boat in chase of me.
A little later and I should have been helpless, as I found when I
tried to get into the boat. The cold was terrible, and it had hold
of my limbs in spite of the swimming. It was hard work climbing
over the bows, as I must needs do unless I wanted to capsize the
light craft as I had overset a fisher's canoe more than once, by
boarding her over the side, as we sported in the Glastonbury meres
in high summer; but I managed it, and was all the better for the
struggle, which set the blood coursing in my veins again. Then I
got out the oars and began to pull away from the ship, with no care
for direction so long as I could get away from her.
The foe had no boat, for they were all clustered in the ship or
close to her on the rock, and there was a deal of noise going on
among them. When I was fairly out of their way, and I could no
longer make out their forms, I began to plan where I had best go,
and at first I thought of a little beach that I had seen on the far
side of the cove, thinking that I could get up what seemed a gorge
to the cliff's top, and so hide inland somewhere.
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