CHAPTER IX
Caught Out
It was with a certain amount of difficulty that the Scoutmaster made the "watch below" turn in. The lads were reluctant to leave the deck. It was a calm, peaceful evening, despite a falling glass, and the prospect of the chief maritime highway of the world's commerce fascinated them. A huge liner, one blaze of lights, was creeping up to an anchorage off Tilbury; tramps, coasters, barges, and tugs were constantly passing to and fro, their navigation-lights forming a galaxy of red, green, and white.
"You fellows will be fat-headed when it's your turn for duty," remarked the Scoutmaster. "As a matter of fact, you may all turn in. We won't require an anchor watch."
The Sea Scouts obeyed, but Mr. Armitage had no intention of following their example He went to his cabin and carefully perused the chart, at the same time noting the still-falling barometer.
"If the wind comes from the sou'-west or south'ard, we'll do all right here," he soliloquized. "If it's east or north, then it's a case of look out."
Mr. Murgatroyd, tired out with his long day, had gone to his bunk in the after-cabin, but there were signs that he was far from comfortable. Possibly he was hankering after a snug bed ashore and a floor that didn't rock, although ever so gently.
About midnight the Scoutmaster went on deck. It was now nearly high tide, and a distinct "popple" of tide was in evidence. Overhead the starlit sky was beginning to become overcast—long, ragged clouds throwing out tapering fingers that pointed to a blow from the nor'ard.
Even as he studied the meteoric conditions, Mr. Armitage heard a weird moan. It was the herald of a stiff breeze, possibly half a gale.
Then with a terrific gust the storm burst. It was one of those sudden, fierce tempests that are apt to occur during the summer months—short in duration, but none the less dangerous.
In five minutes the sea was quite tumultuous, although the distance from shore to shore was short of a mile. The Olivette was soon grinding and bumping against the barge in a manner that suggested damage if she remained much longer.
The series of violent concussions brought the Sea Scouts from their bunks. They were prepared to be rocked in the cradle of the deep, but not to be jolted and rattled like peas in a pod. Mr. Murgatroyd alone remained; he was in such a state of mind and body that he hardly cared what happened if only he could set foot on dry land.
"We're dragging, sir," declared Stratton.
It was the unpleasant truth. Either the barge's single anchor had tripped, or else the crew had neglected to pay out sufficient cable. Slowly yet surely the barge, with the Olivette bumping alongside, was drifting down upon the wharves of Gravesend. To make matters worse, the worthy skipper and crew of the barge had not yet returned from the shore.
"We'll have to cut and run for it," declared Mr. Armitage. "Otherwise we stand a good chance of being smashed between the barge and a stone wall. She may ride to her anchor all right without us. Start the engine, Roche, as sharp as you can. Stratton, trim and light the navigation-lamps and set them in position. You others stand by to cast off, but mind you aren't thrown into the ditch."
Fortunately the motor was still warm, and starting up was quickly accomplished. It was, however, a difficult, not to say dangerous, task to cast off from the barge, since it was the Olivette's rope that secured her.
"I'll do it, sir," volunteered the Patrol-leader. "If you went, and anything happened so that you couldn't get back from the barge, where would we be?"
Mr. Armitage saw the force of the argument.
"Right-o!" he assented. "Be very careful."
Stratton meant to be. He knew the risk of slipping and falling between the two vessels. But he was a level-headed youngster, who knew how to use his hands and his feet as well as the "grey matter under his thatch ".
Watching his opportunity, he gained the deck of the barge, passed the bight of a rope round a bollard, and threw the ends back on to the Olivette.
"All fast!" shouted Hepburn.
With that assurance the Patrol-leader cast off the original rope. The Olivette was now held by a warp that could be slipped from her deck and the stern-post as well.
Peter did not employ the same method with the after-warp. He merely cast it off, and, before the two boats had a chance to drift apart, he regained the Olivette's deck.
"All gone aft, sir!" he reported.
"Then let go for'ard," ordered the Scoutmaster.
Roche, at the clutch lever of the engine, heard the command, and wondered why the Scoutmaster did not give the order to go ahead or astern. But Mr. Armitage realized the danger of starting under power from the lee of the labouring barge. He was content to let the Olivette drop clear under the action of wind and tide.
"Easy ahead!" he ordered. "Stratton, pass the word for all hands to go below. We want a clear deck for this job."
The Patrol-leader saw all the rest of the deck hands into the cockpit, and then returned to the wheel-house. Mr. Armitage had thrown open the plate-glass windows, and was preparing grimly to enjoy himself.
"Get your oilskins," he ordered curtly. "We'll ship some seas, I'm thinking, and I can't see when the spray obscures the glass."
The Scoutmaster was perturbed. Not that he minded for himself. He was racking his brains as to the best course to pursue, whether to make for the Essex side, which was a weather shore, or continue down the river under the lee of the land. The first alternative involved anchoring, and he did not like the thought of immature lads handling a 60-pound anchor in the dark on the slippery deck. The second had an objection on the score that he was unacquainted with the river and that the traffic was heavy.
"I'll carry on down," he decided. "It's high water, and if I fringe the mud-banks I'll be out of the worst of the traffic. If she grounds, it's soft mud and a weather shore."
Having made this resolve, the Scoutmaster stuck to it. It was an anxious ten minutes crossing the fairway. There was a nasty cross sea running, in addition to the fact that several large vessels were in the vicinity. There were sailing craft, too, plunging along under reefed canvas, and at sea all vessels under power have to give way for those under sail.
Showers of spray tumbled inboard, flying through the open windows of the wheel-house and hissing on the hot cylinders. In addition to the reek of warm oil the wheel-house and engine-room were filled with steam. Bilge-water, thrown up by the fly-wheel as the Olivette pitched, added to the discomforts of those below.
But Mr. Armitage was blind to his immediate surroundings. His whole attention was centred upon the maze of lights. He had to determine quickly and accurately which were leading lights and which belonged to vessels under way. An error might result in a collision.
In spite of the discomforts the Sea Scouts were rather enjoying the situation. Confident in the ability of their Scoutmaster, they hadn't the slightest idea of the stress that Mr. Armitage was undergoing on their behalf. The night, too, hid much of the peril that beset them. Even the helmsman was ignorant of the fact that once the Olivette literally scraped past a huge mooring-buoy, massive enough to crush her well-built planks like an egg-shell.
At length the boat gained the comparatively quiet water of the Essex shore. Here, gauging his distance, Mr. Armitage ported helm.
Then the Olivette began to show her weak point. She was undoubtedly "tender", rolling like a barrel. The Scoutmaster, standing with his feet planted widely apart, gave a rapid glance behind him to reassure himself that his youthful crew were all right. They were hanging on to the first secure object that they found, wondering, doubtless, what had suddenly possessed the Olivette to behave thus; while Roche, swallowing mouthfuls of salt-laden steam, was manfully standing by the reversing-lever.
With her engine running at half speed the Olivette held on, staggering and lurching as the heavy wind struck her full on the broadside, until, with a grunt of satisfaction, Mr. Armitage sighted the Chapman, and, beyond, the lights of Southend.
He was approaching familiar waters now, although during the latter stages of the war the pile-beacon of the Chapman had not displayed its nocturnal warning. Beyond was the Nore, known to every officer and man who had served in the patrols operating from Sheerness and Harwich.
Grey dawn found the Olivette abreast of the far-flung Southend pier. It was now nearly low tide. The extensive flats of the Essex shore, jutting a good two miles from the low-lying Shoeburyness, were rapidly uncovering. The wind had backed four or six points and was now nor'-east.
"No use running for the Medway," declared the Scoutmaster. "Nothing like carrying on, so here goes."
Heedless of the fact that he had had an abnormally long trick at the helm, Mr. Armitage had decided upon the best plan. To hold on, keeping under the lee of the sands, meant the best chance of arriving at Brightlingsea before the wind veered. To hesitate and run for some unknown creek meant not only the risk of getting aground but possibly being weatherbound for days.
"It'll be a race with the wind," thought the Scoutmaster:
"'When the wind shifts against the sun,
Trust it not, for back it 'll run'.
"Now, then, it's an even chance: Brightlingsea or a lee shore off the Maplins. I wonder if I've done the right thing?"