XIII.
Adrift.—Skilful Navigators.—Breakers ahead.—A narrow Scratch.—Stuck in the Mud.
LET us now return to the unfortunate “B. O. W. C.” who had met so unexpectedly with another adventure.
On going on board of the schooner, they found the water low; and the tide had just begun to float her in rising. As they had slept but little the preceding night, they retired almost immediately, and soon were buried in a profound slumber. The next morning Phil was awake first. He went up on deck, and the next instant gave a loud cry.
“Hallo, boys!” he cried. “Get up! We’re adrift. Hurry up—quick!”
Awaking instantly at this startling news, they tumbled up on deck without a moment’s delay; and there, true enough, they found themselves far out in the bay, adrift, apparently, as Phil had said.
“This is queer,” said Bruce. “Here’s her anchor down, as usual.”
The others walked to the bows where Bruce was, and saw the chain hanging down, just as though she were anchored.
“We are anchored, sure enough,” said Arthur.
“No, we’re not; we’re drifting,” said Bart.
“Look at the land.”
A look at the land satisfied all that the vessel was actually moving through the water.
“Let’s try the anchor. It must be dragging,” said Bart.
So they all went to work at the windlass, and in course of time found the anchor raised. As they worked, they found it lighter than they expected; and when at length they had ended, they ran to the bows. All was explained. The anchor was broken off short at the fluke.
“That’s how it happened,” said Bart. “And so we’re in for another adventure.”
“What shall we do now?”
“Sail the vessel, of course,” said Bruce.
“Where to?”
“Back to Pratt’s Cove.”
“And where is that?”
No one could answer that. Each one looked around carefully, in order to see if he could find any place which looked like Pratt’s Cove. But there were two difficulties in the way of any such discovery. In the first place, they had approached Pratt’s Cove in the dark, and did not know how it looked; and in the second place, they could not see any spot that looked like a cove at all.
All around them was the bay. Before them was the Parrsboro’ shore. Behind them was Blomidon. On one side, and a little in front, were the Five Islands about six miles distant; beyond which the waters of the bay extended, till they faded away into a low, indistinct lino of coast. They could understand, in a general way, that Pratt’s Cove lay somewhere in front of them, but they could not guess within twenty miles of the place.
“Let’s up sail,” said Tom, “and run up there. It looks like a cove;” and he pointed to a hollow in the line of hills.
“O, the hills around Pratt’s Cove are higher than that,” said Bruce.
“Suppose we sail over and ask O’Rafferty.”
“Very well. I agree to that,” said Bart. “Bruce, you can steer.”
“No. You may as well steer,” said Bruce.
“I don’t particularly care about it,” said Bart. “Don’t any of you fellows want to?”
“O, no. We don’t care. You steer, Bart. We’ll hoist the sails.”
So Bart turned away with rather a blank expression on his face, and walked slowly to the rudder. The wind was moderate, and the water only a little ruffled. The other boys, with immense confusion and shouting, toiled away at the sails one after the other, and at last managed to get them set.
“Perhaps we’d better not have the foresail up,” suggested Bart.
“O, yes. Why not?” said Bruce. “Come, boys—up she rises!”
And shouting out a sailor’s song which he had once heard, he completed his work.
The vessel moved gently through the water, and Bart pointed her head towards the island which he considered to be O’Rafferty’s. The wind was fair, and the vessel came around very easily, and then headed away for the island.
Now, it happened that, as Bart belonged to a seaport town, and as his father was a merchant, and as Bart himself had once experienced a sea fever, and had been almost on the point of running away to sea,—he had, very naturally, been always regarded among his companions as a great authority on all matters connected with seamanship. And so, to a certain extent, he was. He knew all about the rigging of a ship, and understood, in a general way, the principles on which she sailed. He was also a good oarsman; but in point of fact, he had never handled a sail-boat in his life. This was owing to his father’s prudence, who allowed him to go out rowing whenever he pleased, but never permitted him to have a sail-boat. And so it happened that Bart knew no more about sailing than any one on board.
However, there was no help for it; and he had to take the tiller and assume the responsibility of the situation. After a time he began to gain confidence. The wind was moderate, the schooner was going in a straight course, and O’Rafferty’s Island was full before him.
They went on for a long time, when at length Bruce exclaimed,—
“Well, I don’t see how it is. We’ve been going to O’Rafferty’s for full half an hour, and we are no nearer. And here we are, with Pinnacle Island coming between us.”
“It’s the currents,” said Bart, coolly. “Nobody can sail in this bay, unless he understands all about them. I’m sure I don’t.”
“Hadn’t we better bring her about, and stand off on the other tack? We could then steer so as to make allowance for the current, which seems to be setting off there.”
“Here, Bruce, you steer,” said Bart. “I’m tired.”
“O, well, let’s bring her around first. Port your helm, Bart.”
Bart tried to obey; but as he turned the helm in exactly the opposite way, some confusion was the result.
“Port! I said port!” cried Bruce.
“O!” said Bart; and seeing that he had made a mistake, he proceeded to rectify it by turning it starboard. The vessel had turned partly; but as Bruce had expected it to turn in the opposite direction, he had checked Bart’s mistake. But Bruce himself knew as little about sailing as Bart, and so he had swung the sails the wrong way.
The vessel caught the wind as she came round; and Bart, who had tried to obey Bruce’s correction, finding that the vessel was all right, and was doing very well, checked himself, and let her go. Bart now saw that Bruce had made a mistake, and Bruce suspected that Bart had. But they said nothing, and the other boys thought that both Bruce and Bart were first-rate navigators.
The schooner now held on straight ahead on what Bart supposed to be the other tack. Bruce and the others were very well satisfied with the proceedings.
“I think we’d better come round again, Bart,” said Bruce.
“Very well,” said Bart, who had been looking forward to this.
“Port your helm, then,” said Bruce.
Bart turned the helm a-starboard, as he had done before, while Bruce and Arthur swung the booms to assist the vessel. She came round that time all right.
“Why, Bart! why didn’t you port the helm?”
“Because I had to put the helm starboard to bring her round. It’s all right.”
Bruce looked grave. He felt that he had committed a blunder. After all, which was port and which was starboard he hardly knew. He concluded after this to intrust the care of the vessel to one who knew, like Bart, and felt quite grateful to Bart for his delicacy in not exposing his ignorance.
Away went the schooner—faster this time, for the wind had sprung up fresher. This was what Bart dreaded. But there was no help for it; so he kept on, with a vague expectation of some disaster. He now headed, as before, for O’Rafferty’s Island, and watched very anxiously to see how they were progressing.
“You’d better head her a little to the north’ard, Bart,” said Arthur—“hadn’t you? so as to allow for that current.”
“Very well,” said Bart; and he put the vessel a little closer in the direction indicated.
But in doing so, the vessel began to stagger, and the sails began to flap and rattle, and Bart was filled with consternation. Hastily he restored the helm to its former position, but without any result. Then he tried the old manouvre, by means of which he had already turned her twice. It was of no use. The sails flapped, and the vessel danced, and Bart was about confessing his complete ignorance of everything, when suddenly her sails filled again, and to Bart’s amazement and delight she sailed off away from the island and back on the other tack.
Bart’s heart was full of thankfulness, but he said not a word. He looked ahead as coolly as possible, and held the tiller as before.
“Well, Bart, what are you up to now? Why don’t you head for O’Rafferty’s?”
“Can’t,” said Bart, laconically.
“Why not?”
“Why, there are tides and currents about those islands enough to sweep away a line-of-battle ship. I don’t understand them. Didn’t you see what a scrape I got into just now? I won’t try O’Rafferty’s again in a hurry; but if any of you fellows choose to try it, I don’t care.”
“O, no,” said Bruce, “we can’t do it if you can’t, Bart. But where are you going now?”
“Well, I don’t know. We must make up our minds. I’m keeping my eye on the coast; and if I can find any place that looks like Pratt’s Cove, I’ll run in. The fact is, we must do something, or they’ll be frightened out of their wits about us.”
“Pratt’s Cove? But how can we ever find the place?”
“Perhaps, when we get in a little closer to the land, we may see it.”
“I’m confident,” said Bart, “that it’s somewhere along this coast; for it seems to me, as near as I can remember, that this is the coast we sailed to. Look at the Five Islands. There’s O’Rafferty’s; and there are the others. You see we came out from this side of O’Rafferty’s, and then sailed up somewhere along there. I think, when we get nearer, we’ll see an opening; and perhaps we’ll hit the cove itself.”
The others seemed impressed by Bart’s words; and as none of them had anything better to suggest, they said nothing.
And now the wind blew still more freshly, and Bart looked around with dismay. On went the schooner; but the long line of coast showed no opening whatever, and he had no idea what to do to extricate himself from the position in which he was. What made it worse was the confidence which all now felt in him.. He felt that the end would come—the moment when he would stand revealed in his true colors, and lose his prestige forever.
More freshly still blew the wind, and the sea around rose higher, tossing up now into white-capped waves, which every little while dashed over the bows and scattered their spray about the decks. Yielding to the wind, the vessel lay over; and on she scudded, dashing through the water in a style which excited all on board, and intoxicated them with delight.
“Hurrah!” cried Bruce. “Boys, isn’t this glorious?”
“Glorious!” cried the boys; and some of them swung by their hands from the rigging, and others danced about the deck, shouting as each wave came splashing over the bows, and roaring with laughter when any one got a ducking.
Hurrah! and Hurrah again!—and yet again! Their wild mirth only added new anguish to the dismay of poor Bart, who found himself now face to face with an inextricable problem.
In their last stretch across from the Five Islands, they had drawn near to the main land, and were now moving nearer and nearer every moment. What was to be done? It was already time to turn; but where could he turn, or where would he go when he did turn? or, for that matter, how could he venture to turn at all? His last experience in turning the schooner had filled him with despair. What was the meaning of those kickings, and flappings, and jumpings? What was the reason that she didn’t mind her rudder at all? And now the wind was stronger, and the sea was rougher. Could he venture to turn the vessel with such a wind and such a sea? He felt that he could not. Anything would be better. So he thought while taking counsel with his own soul.
And while taking counsel with his own soul, he saw before him the coast extending invitingly. There was a long line of sand, or of mud,—which was just as good,—into which he longed to run the vessel. Which would be best—to run the vessel ashore, or to make the desperate attempt to turn her again, and set her kicking and plunging? He preferred the former. Yes, to run her ashore would solve the whole difficulty. He might be disgraced by it, but he could not help it. He felt that he was doomed to disgrace, in any event; and it would be better to incur disgrace on a mud bank, and in safety, than when tossing and drifting he didn’t know where. His mind, then, was made up; and he kept the schooner’s head straight towards the shore.
But as he approached it, he was aware of one very startling fact, and that was, that the schooner, while going forward, was also drifting rapidly to leeward. In the course of that sidelong motion, she was losing way so rapidly, that, instead of striking the mud flats, she might run upon a very different kind of place; for there, on the lee bow, was a headland of dark, stern rock, at the base of which the waves were breaking into foam. In his fixed attention to the mud flats, he had’ not noticed this till just now, when it was full before him, and not very far away. Below this headland the mud flats appeared again.
What could he do?
All seemed lost; for the headland, and the foaming waves, and the frowning, jagged rocks were full before him. With a bitter feeling of despair, and a pang of anguish for the coming fate of the friends who had given him their trust, and who even now were singing and shouting in their uproarious glee, he stood for a moment paralyzed, looking with white lips at his fate.
Suddenly, and just as all seemed lost, he jerked the helm a-port. The schooner swung half round. The wind took her astern, and drove her forward. Her sails flapped and banged about. Then a current seemed to seize her and carry her on for a score of yards. Suddenly there was a thump, a grinding noise, and another thump dull and heavy.
In an instant all was confusion.
“The rocks! the rocks!” cried all. “She’s struck!”
Then the schooner was once more swept on, and a wave, striking her stern, dashed the tiller out of Bart’s hands, and he fell. Springing up, he seized it again, not knowing how he moved it, or when. At that moment the sails filled again, the schooner bounded forward, and in a few minutes it was beyond the headland, and moving on toward the lower mud flat; and before they knew that they were saved, she drove hard and fast into the mud, with a shock that knocked them all down..
Picking themselves up, they looked around at the shore in bewilderment. Then they looked at Bart.
“What’s all this?” they asked.
“O, nothing,”’ said Bart. “I found we couldn’t do anything, and so I ran her ashore.”
“By Jove!” cried Bruce, “that was a pretty narrow scratch we had of it on those rocks. After this, Bart, I’ll always brag on you. You’ve saved our lives, Bart. I thought we were gone for it. I never saw anything done so splendidly.”
For a moment Bart was silent. Here was a chance for fame. He might avail himself of the lucky accident, and turn it to his own glory. But the thought was only a passing one. It was at once dismissed.
“No, boys,” said he; “the only thing I did was nearly to destroy your lives. In fact, I don’t know any more about sailing a vessel than any of you. It’s been a very narrow escape. I was a fool to try it; and I can only make amends by confessing it. I don’t believe in being a humbug, and I won’t be one any longer.”
At first the boys wouldn’t believe him, but after a while he explained all about it. After this confession, Bart was as much esteemed by his friends as ever.