Thrusting back the slide, he stepped below and lighted the lamp. The brightening glow showed him that the boat's starboard side was wet high up, and though there was a good deal of water in her, this puzzled him until an explanation suggested itself. They had moored the craft carefully, but he supposed she must have dragged her anchor or kedge and swung in near enough the shore to ground toward low tide. Then as the tide left her she would fall over on her starboard bilge, because they had lashed the heavy boom down on that side, and the water in her would cover the depressed portion of her interior. This reasoning was probably correct; but he did not foresee the result until, after lighting the stove and putting on the kettle, he opened the provision locker, which was to starboard. Then he saw with a shock of dismay that the stock of food they had counted on was ruined. The periodically-submerged flour-bag had rotted and burst, and most of its contents had run out into the water as the boat righted with the rising tide; the prepared cereals, purchased to save cooking, had turned to moldy pulp; and the few other stores were in much the same condition. There were only two sound cans of beef and a few ounces of unspoiled tea in a canister.
Carroll's courage failed him as he realized it, but he felt that he must eat and sleep before he could grapple with the situation. He would allow himself a scanty meal and a few hours' rest. While the kettle boiled, he crawled out and shortened in the cable and plied the pump. Then he went below and feasted on preserved beef and tea, gaging the size of each slice with anxious care, until he reluctantly laid the can aside. After that, he filled his pipe and stretching his aching limbs out on the port locker, which was comparatively dry, soon sank into heavy sleep.
CHAPTER XXVIII
CARROLL SEEKS HELP
Carroll slept for several hours before he awakened and sat up on the locker, shivering. He had left the hatch slightly open, and a confused uproar reached him from outside; the wail of wind-tossed trees; the furious splash of ripples against the bows; and the drumming of the halyards upon the mast. There was no doubt that it was blowing hard, but the wind was off the land and the sloop in shelter.
Filling his pipe, he set himself to think, and promptly decided that it would have been better had he gone down to the sloop in the beginning, before the provisions had been spoiled. A natural reluctance to leave his helpless companion had mainly prevented him from doing this, but he had also been encouraged by the possibility of obtaining a deer now and then. It was clear that he had made a mistake in remaining, but it was not the first time he had done so, and the point was unimportant. The burning question was—what should he do now.
It would obviously be useless to go back with rations that would barely suffice for the march. Vane still had food enough to keep life in one man for a little while, and it would not be a long run to Comox with a strong northerly wind. If the sloop would face the sea that was running he might return with assistance before his comrade's scanty store was exhausted. Getting out the mildewed chart, he laid off his course, carefully trimmed and lighted the binnacle lamp, and going up on deck hauled in the kedge-anchor. He could not break the main one out, though he worked savagely with a tackle, and deciding to slip it, he managed to lash three reefs in the mainsail and hoist it with the peak left down. Then he stopped to gather breath—for the work had been cruelly heavy—before he let the cable run and hoisted the jib.
She paid off when he put up his helm, and the black loom of trees ashore vanished. He thought that he could find his way out of the inlet, but he knew that he had done so only when the angry ripples that splashed about the boat suddenly changed to confused tumbling combers. They foamed up in quick succession on her quarter, but he fancied she would withstand their onslaught so long as he could prevent her from screwing up to windward when she lifted. It would need constant care, and if he failed, the next comber would, no doubt, break on board. His task was one that would have taxed the vigilance of a strong, well-fed man, and Carroll had already nearly reached the limit of his powers.
His case, however, was by no means an unusual one. The cost of the subjugation of the wilderness is the endurance of hunger and thirst, cold and crushing fatigue; and somebody pays, to the utmost farthing. Carroll sitting, drenched, strung up and hungry, at the helm, was merely playing his part in the struggle, though he found it cruelly difficult.
It was pitch dark, but he must gaze ahead and guess the track of the pursuing seas by the angle of the spouting white ridge abreast of the weather shrouds. He had a compass, but when his course did not coincide with safety it must be disregarded. The one essential thing was to keep the sloop on top, and to do so he had frequently to let her fall off dead before the mad white combers that leaped out of the dark. By and by his arms began to ache from the strain of the tiller, and his wet fingers grew stiff and claw-like. The nervous strain was also telling, but that could not be helped; he must keep the craft before the sea or go down with her. There was one consolation; she was traveling at a furious speed.