Summary

Portrait of Randall Parrish Randall Parrish Wolves of the Sea — IX. A Swim to the Namur (1918)

Although the sloop in its voyage up the Bay had never been out of sight of this coast, had indeed skirted it closely all the way, yet my memory of its more prominent landmarks was extremely vague. I had made no effort to impress them on my mind. Therefore at first I could identify nothing, but finally, out of the grotesque, shifting shadows, dimly appearing against the slightly lighter sky beyond, there suddenly arose, clearly defined, the gaunt limbs of a dead tree, bearing a faint resemblance to a gigantic cross.
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Portrait of Randall Parrish Randall Parrish Wolves of the Sea — IX. A Swim to the Namur (1918)

My boat, unguided, had drifted considerably farther out into the Bay than I had supposed, and it required a good half hour of steady toil at the oars before I sighted ahead of me the darker outlines of the shore. Nothing had crossed our path, and no unusual sound had reached my ears along the black water. If the Namur's boat had already returned to the bark, its passage must have been made during the period of my unconsciousness, and this seemed to me utterly impossible.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Randall Parrish Randall Parrish Wolves of the Sea — IX. A Swim to the Namur (1918)

The Namur, unless her position had been changed since darkness set in, was not so far out from shore as to make swimming to her a dangerous feat; and I could approach and board her with far less chance of discovery in that manner, than by the use of a boat. The watch on deck would undoubtedly be a vigilant one, yet no eye could detect through that darkness—unless by sheer accident—a submerged swimmer, cautiously advancing with silent strokes. The greater danger would come after I had attained the deck, wet to the skin.
Source: Wikisource

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