Page 290 - The Tigris Expedition

1LI- I:

Tigris and the Superships: the Voyage to Pakistan
ebb tide started and began to suck the water away from the bay. To
our despair we saw the beach creeping towards us, getting wider
and wider, whilst we had ever less water beneath our reeds. We had
the impression of being still completely afloat, hugging the surf
with our seabound bow in wild leaps. But almost certainly the
landward stern was now touching the bottom in the intervals
between the high waves, and this, combined with the seaward
suction of the ebbing tide, helped the two small anchors and the
buried sea-anchor to hold us in one spot, ridiculously close to the
obliterated camel tracks ashore. It had been my last hope that, when
the stem ran aground, the drag on the anchors would diminish and
we could dance the weather off, half-afloat in one spot, until the
storm abated and we could pull ourselves back into deep water.
In this desperate position we sat down at the long table to cat a
warm supper, feeling like passengers on a racing speed-boat jump­
ing the waves towards nowhere.
At 5.40 p.m. Tigris time the sun set and HP lit the kerosene lamps.
Far away someone lit another small lamp among the mat huts at the
end of the bay. The rain had ceased. At 6 p.m. we heard shouting
from the sea and waved our lights from the cabin roof. Riding with
the surf in the dark came Asbjorn, alone in the inflated dinghy; he
was grasped by many arms and pulled on board. He had no news of
the other two. He had walked inland alone until he found a small
house with a tower; he had peeped inside but had learned from a few
praying Orientals that this was a mosque, and that the village was
far away on the other side of the sandy isthmus. He then came back
to the dinghy which he had hidden behind a big canoe, wrote
TIGRIS in the sand and a message to the others that if they signalled
he would come to fetch them.
Nobody signalled. For a moment we saw another faint light at
the opposite end of the beach, then even that disappeared and all
remained dark.
At 7 p.m. we all leapt from our scats around the long table. We
heard more shouting from out at sea. There were lights. I could
have sworn I recognised Norman’s voice. We all shouted, but our
voices were drowned by the surf and carried inland by the wind.
Then we heard many voices and the sound of an engine. We
climbed roofs and mast ladders with all the lamps we had and
waved and yelled warnings, for we did not want to lure the boat
into a trap. It was a small and shallow dhow that came into the range
of our lights, full of Pakistanis and with Norman and Rashad in the
bow. They came straight for us and near enough for our two friends
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