But there was a peculiarly trying spot to be passed just at the inner extremity of the channel, and the ship would probably reach it on her next board. It behoved Ned, therefore, to dismiss from his mind all thoughts not strictly appertaining to the business in hand; and, like the sensible, practical fellow he was, he did so. Standing on a hen-coop, with one hand lightly grasping the mizen-topmast backstay, he sought and soon found the spot, which he carefully watched until he considered that the ship had run far enough to reach it on the next tack. He then gave the word “Ready about!” and immediately tacked the ship. The exceeding awkwardness of the passage consisted in the fact that, at the particular point referred to, the channel through the reef for a length of about sixteen hundred feet was only about three hundred feet wide, whilst its direction was dead in the wind’s eye as it then blew. Hence it was quite impossible to work the ship through this narrow “gut” in the ordinary way. Two small coves of unbroken—and therefore deep—water had been discovered on the north side of this narrow passage during the preliminary exploration; but they trended in the wrong direction and were so very narrow that Williams, on seeing them, at once declared them useless for all practical purposes. Ned, however, thought differently, and it was indeed upon the existence of these two indentations that he based his hope of success in an effort that, under other circumstances, it would have been sheer madness to attempt.
The ship tacked with the same admirable precision as before, and on gathering way was found to be looking well up for the entrance to the narrow channel. The distance to be traversed was no great matter, and Ned consequently kept all hands at their stations; but the anxious looks which they cast, first at him and next at the formidable barrier of rocks to leeward, showed plainly enough how completely puzzled they were as to the manner in which Ned was to deal with the difficulty which faced him. In less than five minutes from the moment of tacking the ship reached the opening, and as she glided across the narrow channel Ned signed to Williams to put the helm gradually down. The result was that the ship shot easily up into the wind; and the moment that all her canvas was a-shiver Ned ordered the helm amidships. This manoeuvre caused the ship to shoot for a considerable distance along the channel right in the wind’s eye; and before she entirely lost her way she had, as Ned had calculated she would, forged past the opening giving access to the first cove or indentation in the reef. The square canvas was now thrown flat aback and the ship soon gathered stern-way, when, by a judicious and skilful manipulation of the helm and braces, a stern-board was made and the vessel backed into the indentation and to its farthest extremity, a distance of about two cables’-lengths. The yards were then braced round and the canvas filled on the starboard tack, when, the ship gathering headway, she went booming down the indentation again and rushed once more into the narrow channel; when, having by this manoeuvre acquired sufficient “way” or momentum, the same tactics were a second time resorted to in order to get her past the second indentation, upon emerging from which she entered a wider reach of the channel where there was room to work her in the ordinary way. Thenceforward there was no further difficulty, except that in one rather awkward spot a sunken rock was encountered, which Ned, being duly apprised of its position by Rogers, avoided by the masterly execution of a half-board. A quarter of an hour later saw the Flying Cloud gliding out of the last reach of the channel to windward of everything, and five minutes afterwards Williams resigned the wheel to the man who had gone aft to relieve him, and resumed command of the ship; saying to Ned as he dismissed him:
“You have done exceedingly well, young gentleman; and I thank you not only for myself but also for all hands. It was, no doubt, your foresight and the caution you gave us last night that saved the ship from wreck on yonder reef; and you have this morning got us out of a difficulty which a slight increase of wind would have made a most serious one. We are very greatly indebted to you; and if ever you should require a favour at my hands remind me of this morning, and if it is possible to grant that favour with safety to ourselves it shall be granted. And now, tell me what you think of yon island as a dwelling-place for Captain Blyth?”
“I should think it would serve fairly well,” said Ned, inwardly rejoicing at the prospect of the skipper being put on shore within such comparatively easy reach of the other party. “The island is large enough to support a hundred people, for that matter. It is as much out of the way as any other place we are likely to fall in with; and I have no doubt but that round on the lee side of it we shall meet with smooth water and a beach upon which to effect a landing.”
“So I think,” returned Williams. “At all events,” he continued, “we will run round to leeward and have a look at the place. And in the meantime you may as well go and tell the skipper and young Manners to hold themselves in readiness to leave the ship—if the place looks promising I shall land them both here. And when you have spoken to them you may look out a few things—as well as all their own belongings—which will help to make them comfortable. We have no ill-feeling toward either of them, and it will be a satisfaction to remember that we left them with the means of taking care of themselves.”
“All right,” said Ned; “I will do so.” And he hurried away upon his errand, which he was anxious to fully accomplish whilst Williams’ extraordinary fit of good-nature still remained upon him.
Captain Blyth and young Manners were, it will be remembered, confined in the forward deck-house; and thither Ned at once made his way. The sliding-door was closed, and secured by a hasp and staple which had been put on since Ned had last visited the place. Withdrawing the pin and folding back the hasp, the lad slid the door open and entered—to start back horrified at the sight which met his gaze. The two prisoners were there, with their feet in irons, the skipper being seated on one side of the small table which occupied the centre of the berth, and Manners on the other side. It was not their condition, however, nor the fact that they were in irons, which startled Ned; they were clean and comfortable-looking enough, both in person and in dress, to show that they had been fairly well looked after; it was the dreadfully haggard and worn look of the skipper. The poor fellow looked twenty years older than when Ned had seen him last; he was wasted almost to the condition of a skeleton. The skin of his forehead and the outer corners of his eye-sockets was furrowed and wrinkled and crow’s-footed like that of an old man of eighty; and his hair was thickly streaked with grey.
As Ned entered, both prisoners rose to their feet, and Captain Blyth, stretching out his hand in welcome, exclaimed with emotion:
“At last—at last! I knew you would be true to me, Ned, my dear lad—I said so, over and over again; did I not, Manners? And now you are come with good tidings; I can see it in your face. What is it boy! Out with it. I have been terribly shaken by this villainous mutiny, but my nerves are yet strong enough to bear the shock of good news, so out with it; do not keep us in suspense, dear lad.”
It was pitiful to Ned to listen to the yearning tones of anxious entreaty in which the poor fellow uttered those last words, and to feel that he had not a single scrap of comfort to offer; but his task was before him. He had to execute it, and he determined to do it as gently as possible, and to put matters in the most hopeful light he could on the spur of the moment.