But Captain Gay, no less dismal than before, you may be sure, promptly began to issue orders, and the men fell to with a will to repair the damage as best they might. First they rigged up a temporary rudder and swung it astern. It was a poor makeshift, however, and only with good weather could we hope it would steer us to the nearest port.
While the men cleared the decks and rigged up a jury mast under the supervision of the mate, Captain Gay took our bearings and ascertained that we had not departed so greatly from our course as we had feared. Yet it was impossible to make the mouth of the Yukon in our present condition, or even to reach a shelter in Bering Sea. It was found, however, that the Alaska peninsula was not far away, so we decided to draw as near to that as possible, in the hope of meeting a passing vessel or finding a temporary refuge on some one of the numerous islands that lie in this part of the North Pacific.
For four days we labored along, in our crippled condition, without sighting land; but then our fortunes changed. During the night a good breeze from the southwest swept us merrily along, and when daylight came we found ourselves close to a small, wooded island. It lay in the form of a horse-shoe, with a broad, protected bay in the center, and Captain Gay, anxious to examine his ship more closely, decided at once to enter the harbor and cast anchor.
This was by no means an easy task, for long lines of reefs extended from each point of the shore, almost enclosing the bay with jagged rocks. But the sea was calm and the position of the reefs clearly marked; so that by skillful maneuvering the “Flipper” passed between them in safety, and to the relief and satisfaction of all on board we dropped our anchor in the clear waters of the bay.
CHAPTER VI
THE LAND OF MYSTERY.
Captain Gay examined his chart with minute care, and solemnly shook his head.
The island was not there. Either the chart was imperfect, or we had reached a hitherto undiscovered land. The latter conjecture was not at all unreasonable, for so many islands lay in this neighborhood that even when sighted by chance an outlying islet was little liable to tempt one to land upon it. This was doubtless one of the numerous group lying to the south-east of the Alaska peninsula, which are of volcanic origin and as a rule barren and uninhabited.
I have said this island was well wooded, but not until we were opposite the mouth of the natural harbor did we observe this fact. From the sea only a line of rugged headlands and peaks showed plainly, and had we not been in distress we should never have thought to stop at this place. Once within the harbor, however, the scene that met our view was not unattractive.
Bordering the bay was a sandy beach a full hundred yards in width, broken only by an inlet toward the left, or south, which seemed to lead into the interior of the island, winding between high and precipitous banks and soon becoming lost to sight. Back of the beach was the clean-cut edge of a forest, not following a straight line, but rising and falling in hills and ravines until it seemed from the bay to have been scalloped into shape by a pair of huge scissors. The woods were thick and the trees of uniform size, and between them grew a mass of vines and underbrush that made them almost impenetrable. How far the forest extended we were unable to guess; nor did we know how wide the island might be, for back of the hills rose a range of wooded mountains nearly a thousand feet in height, and what might lie beyond these was of course a matter of conjecture. Uncle Naboth, however, advanced the opinion that the island ended at the mountain peaks, and dropped sheer down to the sea beyond. He had seen many formations of that sort, and supposed we had found the only possible harbor on the island.