I pushed Uncle Richard 's small flat down the rough path and rowed out to Island Rock . Arriving there , I thrust the painter deep into a narrow cleft . This was the usual way of mooring it , and no doubt of its safety occurred to me . I scrambled up the rock and around to the eastern end , where there was a broader space for standing and from which some capital views could be obtained . The sea about the rock was calm , but there was quite a swell on and an off-shore breeze was blowing . There were no boats visible . The tide was low , leaving bare the curious caves and headlands along shore , and I secured a number of excellent snapshots . It was now three o'clock . I must wait another hour yet before I could get the best view of the `` Hole in the Wall '' -- a huge , arch-like opening through a jutting headland to the west of me . I went around to look at it , when I saw a sight that made me stop short in dismay . This was nothing less than the flat , drifting outward around the point . The swell and suction of the water around the rock must have pulled her loose -- and I was a prisoner ! At first my only feeling was one of annoyance . Then a thought flashed into my mind that made me dizzy with fear . The tide would be high that night . If I could not escape from Island Rock I would inevitably be drowned . I sat down limply on a ledge and tried to look matters fairly in the face . I could not swim ; calls for help could not reach anybody ; my only hope lay in the chance of somebody passing down the shore or of some boat appearing . I looked at my watch . It was a quarter past three .
The tide would begin XXXXX turn about five , but it would be at least ten before the rock would be covered .
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