CHAPTER XVIII: RAYNOR TO THE RESCUE.
As he made his way toward the now dark and deserted galley, Raynor noted, with regret, that it was a rough night. The schooner appeared at one minute to rush at what seemed to be a towering black wall but which Raynor knew was a wave.
It looked as if she must be submerged in the mass of water. But every time she rose gallantly and topped the crest of the giant combers. Storm sail was set, just sufficient to give the craft steerage way.
“Bother it all,� muttered Raynor, “it seems that luck is always against us. Here I had everything planned for an ideal escape and now I doubt if it wouldn’t be suicidal to venture forth in such a sea.�
The schooner rushed up a wall of water and then coasted hissingly down the other side. Her lights shone out bravely like red and green jewels on either side of her bow. But it seemed that momentarily they would be drowned out.
Raynor clawed his way along the bucking, plunging deck, to the door of the galley. Here he gave three cautious knocks. The door opened and Noddy drew him in.
“Chee!� exclaimed the Bowery youth, when they were both safe inside, “dis is de wurstest night I ever seen. I don’t see a ghost of a show of our escaping to-night. Why, de Mauretania ’ud have a hard time in dese waves, let alone a small boat.�
“Still I hate to give it up,� rejoined Raynor, “maybe the weather will moderate after awhile,� he added hopefully.
“Don’t look much like it. I’m gloomed fer fair,� grumbled Noddy disconsolately.
They peeped out of the galley through a square port cut in the stern wall.
The decks were deserted but for the figure of the man at the wheel. He stood there in dripping yellow oilskins, gripping the helm and turning it this way or that as the great seas threatened the schooner. The binnacle light gleamed on his waterproof garments, making him look like a figure of bronze.
“I wish this storm would let up,� observed Raynor at length.
“Maybe it’ll get worser,� said the pessimistic Noddy.
“I hope not. It’s quite bad enough now. Anyhow, it’s severe enough to make us call off all our plans.�
“Yes, bad luck to it,� was the reply.
There came, if possible, a louder shriek of the wind, and the schooner received a buffeting blow from a wave that made her stagger.
“Jumping juniper! What’s up now?� cried Noddy in some alarm.
“Don’t know. But something has happened,� replied Raynor.
At the same moment came a shout from the helmsman. There was a rush of feet on deck. The boys could hear it plainly in one of those lulls that sometimes occur in the midst of even the fiercest storms. Lanterns flashed and questions and answers were bawled about the deck.
They saw Terror Carson, followed by his mate, rush up on deck. Then came a loud shout.
“All hands aft. The mainsail has gone!�
Raynor flung the door open.
“Come on,� he cried but Noddy hung back.
“What fer? Dey might cotch yer,� he said.
“I don’t care. Some bad accident has happened. The schooner may be going down.�
Indeed, from the wild yawing and pitching the craft was doing, it did seem as if she was mortally injured in some way. Thus urged by Raynor, Noddy accompanied him toward the stern. There was a cluster of sailors about the after mast. It appeared, as well as Raynor could make out, that something had happened to the boom or the gaff.
As the two lads rushed sternward, not caring in their excitement if Raynor was seen or not, they saw that the stout canvas of the storm mainsail had been ripped from leach to peak. The great sail was flapping and snapping in the wind. It made a noise like the reports of cannon.
To make matters worse the great boom, unsupported, was sweeping back and forth across the decks with every roll of the disabled schooner, like a huge flail. It imperiled the lives of everybody who got in its pathway.
“Cut away the halyards and get that canvas loose!� bawled the captain.
Half a dozen sailors tried to, but the threshing boom drove them off.
“Get a line on that boom,� bellowed the mate, “lash it back. Lively, now.�
“It’ll tear out the mast in a minute,� shouted Carson.
The men labored heroically. But it was almost beyond human power to do anything with the volleying mass of canvas and the great boom. The captain and the mate shouted encouragingly to them but it appeared to do little good. Once or twice a man was almost lost over the side in the struggle for mastery.
The boys were now quite close to the whole wild scene. But nobody noticed them. Everyone was far too much engrossed in his own affairs. There was nothing they could do, but they stood by in readiness. To them it seemed as if every moment must be the schooner’s last.
“Here, you,� shouted Carson, stepping suddenly forward and addressing one of the men, “what are you doing with those ropes? You’re cutting the wrong ones.�
He hastened forward to show what he meant. For the nonce he had forgotten the terrible sweep of the menacing boom. An instant later the big spar, sweeping in a huge semi-circle, swung straight at him.
“Look out!� roared the mate.
But Carson did not appear to hear.
“He’ll be killed dead!� shrilled Noddy, looking on with horror.
“The boom!� shouted Raynor.
Suddenly Carson saw his danger. But he stepped aside too late. Another instant and his brains would have been battered out. But Raynor, with a flash of inspiration, averted a tragedy. Stooping down he seized a stout rope attached to the boom. In another instant he had it wrapped round a stout timber “bitt.�
The rope strained as the force of the threshing boom came on it. It drew taut as a violin string. But it held. The big swaying spar was checked within a foot of the captain’s head.
Almost instantly a swarm of sailors swooped down on the boom and secured it strongly. It was then that Terror Carson stepped up to Raynor. His hand was held out.
“I thought you had escaped, boy,� he said, “but it seems you were destined to save my life. I thank you.�
The words were simple, but there was a curious break in the giant seal poacher’s voice as he uttered them.