We were now tearing through the water at such pace that the boat flung a good deal of what she displaced all over her, but a glance at the dark pines ashore showed that she was making very little to windward, while, when I looked over my shoulder at the boiling wake astern, it was too plainly evident that, owing to the loss of the centerboard, we were driving bodily sideways as well as ahead. Also the snowy froth which lapped higher up the lee deck was perilously near the coaming protecting the open well. Still, our expectant friends stood clustered among the boulders fringing one horn of the bay, and I saw that Caryl held a rope in his hand. We might just pass within reach of it on the next tack.
"We must come round. Slip down, and climb up on the opposite side as the sail swings over," I said, carefully shoving the tiller down.
There was a thrashing of canvas as the boat came round, and I breathed more easily as, gathering way on the opposite tack, she headed well up for the boulder point where Caryl was somewhat awkwardly swinging the coil of rope. The point drew nearer and nearer, and I could see Beatrice Haldane standing rigidly still against the somber pines, when, as ill-luck would have it, the dark branches set up a roaring as a wild gust swept down. The boat swayed further over. Most of her forward was buried in a rush of foam, and the water poured steadily into the well; but I still held fast the sheet which would have loosed the sail, for we might reach the rope in another two minutes. The gust increased in violence. Foam and water poured over the coamings in cataracts, and, seeing that otherwise a capsize was inevitable, I released the sheet. The canvas rattled furiously, the craft swayed upright and commenced to blow away sternforemost like a feather, while I dropped into the bottom of her, ankle deep in water.
"There is no help for it—we must reef. Take the tiller, and hold it—so," I said.
It was not without an effort I tied the tack, or forward corner of the mainsail, down; then, floundering aft, hauled the afterside of it down to the boom. That accomplished and the sail thus reduced by some two feet all along its foot, there remained to be tied the row of short lines, or reef points, which would hold the discarded portion when rolled up; and when part of these were knotted it was with misgivings I leaped up on the after-deck. The long, jerking boom projected a fathom beyond the stern, and I must hold on by my toes while leaning out over the water as I pulled the reef points at that end together.
"I am going to trust you with the safety of both of us, Miss Haldane," I said. "When you see the boom swing inwards pull the tiller towards you before it flings me off."
The girl had grown a little paler, and her hands trembled on the helm, but she answered without hesitation: "Don't be longer than you can help—but I understand."
She showed a fine intelligence and a perfect self-command, or our voyage might have ended abruptly; so the reefing was accomplished, and I resumed the helm. Meanwhile, however, we had drifted well out into the lake, and a few minutes of sailing proved that under her reduced canvas the boat would not beat back to the windward shore. The figures among the boulders had faded into the deepening gloom, but, assuming a cheerfulness I did not feel, I said: "It is quite impossible to return, and as it is growing too late to look for a safe landing or path through the bush, we must head for home and send back horses for the others. It will be a fair wind."
"I was afraid so," said the girl with a shiver. "But I hope we shall not be very long on the way. We spent five hours coming."
I knew we should travel at a pace approaching a steamer's, provided the craft could be kept from filling; but, enlarging upon the former point, I tried to conceal the latter possibility, as I put the helm up; and the craft, rising upright, but commencing to roll horribly, raced away down-wind towards open water. Once out of the point's shelter, short but angry waves raced white behind her, for one may find sufficient turmoil of waters when a fresh gale sweeps the Canadian lakes. The rolling grew wilder, the long boom splashed heavily into the white upheavals that surged by on each side, and our progress became a series of upward rushes and swoops, until at times I feared the craft would run her bows under and go down bodily. Once I caught my companion glancing over the stern, and, knowing how ugly oncoming waves appear when they heave up behind a running vessel, I laid a hand on her shoulder and gently turned her head aside.