CHAPTER VII
Stranded
"Looks something like a river, sir," remarked Hepburn, as the unlovely waterside buildings at Reading were left astern, and the Olivette gained the broad reach where the Kennet joins the Thames.
"Looks are sometimes deceptive," rejoined Mr. Armitage, who was standing behind Hepburn in the wheel-house. "There's a tricky spot just beyond Sonning. I'll tell you where when we come to it. Because a river's wide it doesn't necessarily mean that it's deep. Edge a little over towards the tow-path."
Sonning was duly admired and left astern. At about a mile below the far-famed lock the Scoutmaster renewed his caution.
"See that broad stretch ahead, Hepburn?" he asked. "That's shallow water. The deep channel runs hard to port, passing those two little islands on your starboard hand. Give her all the helm you can, because the current's pretty strong."
As a precautionary measure Mr. Armitage told Roche to stand by the reversing-lever. It was as well that he did so, for as the sharp bend became visible Hepburn gave the Olivette full starboard helm.
The boat responded, but the current setting hard against her broadside was too strong for her. By the time she had turned the requisite eight points her bows were on a line with the little islands.
"Stop!" shouted Alan. "Full speed astern."
The Olivette quivered under the reverse action of the propeller, and gathered sternway so quickly that she was in danger of ramming the right bank stern foremost.
Hepburn saw the possibility, and, knowing how unhandy the boat was when going astern, ordered "easy ahead", at the same time putting his helm hard to starboard in an attempt to turn the craft up-stream.
Almost before he was aware of it the Olivette grounded. Carrying way until her bows were well out of the water she rammed her nose right between the two islands, swung round and listed heavily to starboard. A shower of leaves, branches of trees, and brushwood descended on her foredeck, as the wheel-house scraped violently against the verdure with which the island was densely covered.
"Sorry, sir," exclaimed the thoroughly perturbed Hepburn.
"Can't be helped," replied Mr. Armitage calmly. "You did your best. It was the current, combined with the slowness of helm, that let you down. Now comes the job of getting off."
Mr. Murgatroyd, who on the impact had narrowly escaped being jerked overboard, seemed delighted with the stranding. It was what he had anticipated. It was, as he had written to Mr. Armitage, "having some fun"—an episode without which, in his opinion, a cruise falls short of being up to the amateur sailor's standard.
Armed with his camera, the owner jumped ashore.
[Illustration: THE SKIFF TAKES A ROPE ASHORE]
"Don't get her off yet, Armitage," he called out. "I don't want to be marooned here, but I do want some photographs."
While Mr. Murgatroyd was securing photographic records of the stranding of the Olivette, the Scoutmaster took stock of his immediate surroundings.
The boat was hard against a snag, with her bows touching one island. Amidships she bridged the very narrow channel between the two islands through which the current swirled strongly, while aft her starboard quarter was within 6 feet of the second island. She was waterborne aft, since the rudder was quite free, but her bows were a good 18 inches above the normal water-line. In addition she had quite a bad list.
"We're on pretty hard, Peter," declared the Scoutmaster.
"Won't she come off with the engine going full speed astern, sir?" asked the Patrol-leader.
"We can but try—directly Mr. Murgatroyd comes on board," replied Mr. Armitage. "The main trouble is that the level of the river is falling steadily. Since those heavy rains a week ago there's been no rainfall at all. The Olivette may be here for a couple of months."
"Cheerful that," remarked Stratton. "We'll manage it somehow, sir," he added optimistically.
When at length the exuberant Mr. Murgatroyd returned on board, preparations were made to extricate the Olivette from her ignominious position.
The four cylinders were brought into action, and the motor run first at half speed and then full speed astern. Beyond a terrific vibration nothing happened. The boat obstinately refused to leave her unofficial shore-berth.
"Roll her!" ordered the Scoutmaster. "All hands!"
Everyone, except Roche who stood by the engine, ran from side to side, but this expedient proved to be of no avail.
"If we could only run out the big warp to the other bank," suggested Peter tentatively.
"Unfortunately we've no dinghy," commented Mr. Armitage. "We'll have to wait until a boat comes along."
They waited a very long time. Already the sun was well down in the north-western sky. Two more hours would see darkness closing down upon the stranded craft. Even the hitherto hilarious Mr. Murgatroyd began to show signs of anxiety.
"Couldn't I swim to the other bank with a light line, sir?" asked Warkworth.
Mr. Armitage shook his head.
"You're a good swimmer, Warkworth," he replied, "but the current's too strong. Even without the drag of a light line you would have great difficulty in getting across. Hampered by a rope your chances of success would be nil. We'll have to wait."
A few minutes later a pair-oared skiff, manned by four scouts, came laboriously up stream. In reply to a hail from the Olivette they pulled alongside.
"Only too glad to help you, sir," replied one of the scouts. "My word, you are on it."
At Mr. Armitage's suggestion two of the scouts came on board the Olivette, and their places in the skiff were taken up by a heavy coil of 4-inch grass rope.
Thrice the skiff essayed the task of crossing the river. Twice the pull of the current against the floating grass-rope baulked the efforts of the scouts, but the third time, by dint of pulling obliquely against the stream, they established communication with the right bank, and the warp was made fast to a tree trunk.
"Let's hope those fellows know how to bend a rope," soliloquized the Scoutmaster, as the Sea Scouts began to heave taut on the small but powerful winch. "And I hope there'll be no traffic along this branch of the stream. If there is there'll be a good chance of a nasty accident."
He regarded the rope with misgivings. It was sagging with the tremendous rush of water in spite of the strain upon it.
At first foot by foot, and then inch by inch the warp came inboard, until not another turn of the winch could be made.
"Now, full speed astern again," ordered Mr. Armitage.
"She's moving!" exclaimed Flemming.
"Not a bit of it," declared Stratton.
The Patrol-leader was right. The Olivette showed no tendency to disengage herself from the tenacious embraces of the island.
"I'm afraid it's no use keeping you fellows," said the Scoutmaster addressing the four scouts. "If you are going up as far as Reading, perhaps you might report our plight to one of the river-side yards."
The pair-oared skiff pushed off, and was soon lost to sight in a bend of the river. It was now sunset.
"There's no reason why we should go hungry, even if we are hard and fast aground," observed Mr. Murgatroyd. "I'm peckish, very; and I guess you hard-working lads are too. Let's get some tea."
"I can hang on a bit longer, sir," declared Stratton. "One of us ought to remain on deck to warn any boat that might foul our hawser. I'll keep watch."
For about five minutes the Patrol-leader paced the deck. It was a ticklish task owing to the vessel's list, so presently he sat down. Below, his companions were talking briskly to the accompaniment of the rattle of spoons, and cups and saucers.
Peter was thinking hard. It was ignominious, he decided, to run aground and stop there until outside help arrived.
"I wonder if I shifted the lead of that rope?" he soliloquized. "Better still, bend the smaller Manila to the grass-rope, and run it through the for'ard fair-lead. I'll try it, and the others can bear a hand after tea."
He set to work on the lines he had suggested, then, merely as an experiment, he began heaving taut on the winch. How it happened he could never explain. The engine wasn't running, yet directly the rope took the strain the Olivette glided easily from her prison.
"We're afloat, sir!" shouted Stratton gleefully.
The tea-party broke up hurriedly. Roche, Flemming, and Woodleigh, rushed to restart the motor. The others scrambled on deck, except Mr. Armitage, who made for the wheel-house.
He was just in time to put the helm hard over, otherwise the boat would have bumped broadside on to the opposite bank, held as she was by the grass-warp.
Aided by the engine going slowly ahead, the Sea Scouts hauled in and coiled away the grass-warp until all but 30 feet was inboard. The difficulty that confronted them was how to cast off the end from the tree trunk. Even by running the boat's bows gently aground there was too wide a space of water to leap over.
"We don't want to cut the rope," said the Patrol-leader tentatively. "Now then, you budding Blondins; who's going to walk the tight-rope?"
There were no volunteers. The prospect of falling into the swift-flowing river, even in a mere three feet of water, was not sufficiently tempting.
"I'll get ashore somehow," said Hepburn, who, holding himself responsible for the grounding, was anxious to "make good". "I'll use the boat-hook stave as a leaping-pole."
"How will you get back?" asked Stratton.
"Walk along the tow-path and get on board at the next lock," replied the resourceful Alan.
"Which will be Sonning," decided Mr. Armitage. "We know our way back, but we don't know what's down stream. It's too risky in the dark. Right-o; carry on, Alan."
The Sea Scout sounded with the boat-hook. The bottom was hard, consequently there was no risk of the pole sinking in the mud under his weight.
Hepburn had to make a standing start. There was no chance of a running leap from the deck. Nevertheless he alighted gracefully on the bank, and handed back the boat-hook.
"Too long for a walking-stick," he remarked facetiously. "'Sides, you may need it, Peter, if one of you tumble into the ditch. All ready, sir?"
"Cast off!" ordered Mr. Armitage.
The run back to Sonning Lock was accomplished without incident, and by the time Hepburn rejoined the boat, Mr. Murgatroyd had gone ashore and the evening meal was in course of preparation.
"Two days gone and only forty miles covered," commented Mr. Armitage. "We'll have to do better than that to-morrow, lads."