Page 207 - The Tigris Expedition

The Tigris Expedition
As the rocks drew nearer the spirit and determination of all on
board was exemplified by Norman when he shouted in triumph.
Hurrah, he cried, we are defying the wind! His observation was
borne out by the red buoy towed astern. It revealed the degree of
leeway and showed the direction of our true progress through the
water. Clearly we would have done better with bigger oar-blades
or more lee-boards, but even so we advanced a few most important
degrees into the wind that now filled the sail slightly from forward
of athwart. This triumph was enough to maintain the fighting
spirit. Yet we all could see that land was still coming our way. We
could not even get it away from the bow, unless we turned
completely about and headed for the Arab emirates. The cliffs we
had all the way along our starboard side ended in a cape that barely
projected beyond our dancing bow. If we turned further into the
wind to try to clear the headland our sail would flap and we would
lose all steerage way. My only hope was that these conditions
would change when we came still closer to land. The elements
themselves would be forced to change course the moment they hit
the lofty cliffs. The current would be turned parallel to the coast
instead of against it, and be compressed to gain in speed, and so
would the wind when striking the rocks at sea level. The only
opening in the compact wall was the Hormuz Strait, way up at the
tip of the peninsula. If nature was forced to follow such an escape
route, we would be dragged along too.
We continued our ill-fated course, confident that we could
improve upon it and turn to safety closer to land. We were close
enough now to see the foot of the precipices where they fell into the
frothing surf, yet there was no sign of the dhow between us and
land. At one place, two small white houses appeared as if painted on
the rock wall near sea level. They seemed deserted, if ever meant for
people. No sign of any kind of life between us and the rock. I wrote
in my diary:

The coast is scaringly close now. The two helmsmen have
I difficulties riding the huge waves on steady course. From my
cabin corner the view through the bamboo-framed door opening
is no longer one of burning flares, ships and chasing seas, but one
big, continuous mountain side. The slanting late-afternoon light
on the cliffs brings out vertical folds and furrows closely match­
ing in cheerless shades the grey and sombre evening sea with veils
of froth on the combs. It seems to me that we are travelling across
the sterile screes of a naked highland plateau, the barren rocks
178

L