Her banging canvas filled, she listed over, and it was evident to all of them that if the kedge started she would forthwith drive ashore. Tense with strain, its warp ripped out of the water, and she was swinging on it heading for the beach when Wyllard flung himself upon the wheel.
“Hang on to every inch or break it!” he roared. “Out main-boom; box your jib and staysail up to weather!”
In desperate haste they obeyed orders, amid a great clatter of blocks and thrashing of canvas, while Wyllard wrenched up his helm, and the schooner, straining on the warp, fell away with her bows down-stream. The sweat of effort dripped from Wyllard when he swung up an arm to Lewson, who was standing at the bollard to which the warp was made fast.
“Now!” he cried hoarsely, “let her go!”
The rope fell with a splash, the schooner lurched forward and drove away down the inlet with the stream running seaward under her, while Wyllard felt a trifle dazed from sheer revulsion of feeling. The rumble of the surf was growing louder; the deck slanted slightly beneath him. If they could keep her off the beach for the next few minutes there was freedom before them! He hazarded a glance astern, but could see no sign of a boat up the inlet. They had done a thing which even then appeared almost incredible.
The breeze came down fresher, the gurgle at the bows grew louder, and the deck began to heave with a slow and regular rise and fall. A long, shadowy point girt about with spectral surf slipped by, and they were out in open water. They ran the schooner out for an hour or two and then, though the peak of the mainsail burst to tatters as they hauled her on a wind, let her stretch away northward following the trend of coast.
“We’ll stand on as she’s lying until we find a creek or river mouth. We must have water,” Wyllard said.
An hour later he called Charly to the wheel, and sitting down in the shelter of the rail, went to sleep, though this was about the last thing he had contemplated doing. It was gray dawn when he opened his eyes again, and aching all over and very cold, stood up to see that the schooner was tumbling over a spiteful sea with the hazy loom of land not far away from her. He glanced at the gear and canvas, and was almost appalled, while Charly, who was busy close by, saw his face and grinned.
“You don’t want to look at her too much,” he observed. “We took a swig on the peak-halliards a little while ago, and had to let up before we pulled the gaff off her. Boom-foresail’s worse, and the jibs are dropping off her, while the water just pours in through her top-sides when she puts another lee plank down.”
Wyllard made an expressive gesture, and leaned upon the rail. He realized then something of the nature of the task he had undertaken. They had no anchor, no fresh water, no fuel for cooking, and, so far as he was aware, very few provisions, while it seemed to him that the weathered, worn-out gear would not hold the masts in the vessel in any weight of breeze. Still, the thing must be attempted, and there was one want, at least, that could be supplied.