Yes, I got ashore, those d--d sharks keeping company all the way; and when my foot hit bottom and I stumbled through the shallow water and fell on the sand there they still were, cruising about, not a stone's-throw away, as if they were the most harmless beasts in the ocean. Why did they not go for me? I don't know; certainly my time had not yet come, kismet. As soon as I had taken a few breaths I looked for the boat, but could not see her for the dense spray which the gale, now at its worst, was kicking up; so I started to run the four miles round the bay to the station. The rough beach and rocks soon cut my soaked shoes to pieces and, as the soles became detached, I had to run with bare feet, and suffered awfully. Fain would I have halted and rested, but my mates' danger spurred me on, and I ran as if a Maori, with his tomahawk, were after me.
I came to the head of the bay and suddenly remembered that between me and the house there was another very deep indent of the sea. At the mouth it was not more than 250 yards across, but it ran very far inland, and with my feet in the state they were it would take me hours to get round. No, I must swim it; and I was just plunging in, notwithstanding the squalls, which were tearing the surface of the water into dust, when I was struck with the horrid thought of sharks, and for a moment I paused like a coward on the brink.
It was only for a moment. Curse the sharks! my mates were on the boat; and in I went and crossed after a hard swim. To get to the house, rouse up the other partner and the one remaining man, and to get out a small whale-boat did not take many minutes. We manned the boat, peaked the oars and ran before the gale. We came up to the derelict in mid-sound, rolling over and over, but not a sign of a man was on her, nor was a single body ever found. We ran across the sound, beached the boat, and, when the gale subsided, pulled back.
This is, I think, the nearest call I have ever had, and if there is any moral in my yarn it is to leave drink alone, keep in training, do your duty by yourself and mates, and trust to your luck while doing so. Since then I have always hated sharks. The curse of Cromwell be on them.
It took place in the early seventies. I was in Australia, and was temporarily in command of a body of Mounted Police, doing duty as gold escort--a very necessary precaution in those days. On one occasion I was travelling up-country, accompanied by four troopers, when a big squatter, a friend of mine, asked leave to ride with my small party, as he was carrying a quantity of gold up-country with him to his station. Of course I was delighted to have his company, and we set out.