XIII
RUNNING THE BRITISH BLOCKADE IN A HURRICANE
Sails bellied and motor humming, we parted the waves and left a path of foam in our wake. On deck we devoted all our spare time to more dress rehearsals. My boys took a particular relish in putting me through the "third degree," as you call it. One of them played the part of a British search officer.
"Now, Captain, what is the name of your ship?" he bellowed.
"She is the Irma, and as good a full-rigged ship as ever crossed the North Sea."
"Have you any brothers and sisters, Captain?"
"Oh, yes, a lot of them. There are Olga, Ingaborg, and Oscar who live in Hatfjelddalen. Dagmar and Christian are seamen like myself. Lars runs a salmon cannery in British Columbia, Gustaf and Tor are lumbermen somewhere in America. And then we have another brother, Eric, whom we've lost track of."
While trying to make the narrow channel of Norderaue we hit a sand bank. The ship creaked and the masts trembled, but somehow we pushed across—further proof that the Scots of Glasgow still know how to turn out a sturdy clipper ship.
At ten o'clock we passed the Horns reef and continued along the Danish coast. At eight bells we hoped to reach the Skagerrak, and then turn her west to give the enemy the impression that we had come from a Scandinavian port. Shortly before daybreak, the wind shifted abruptly from southwest to due north. Against such a stiff breeze, we could make little headway. On our right were the low rocky fjords and reefs along the coast of Ringkjobing and Thisted. To the left were British mine fields. We didn't dare run into a Danish harbour for fear of being interned. So we must either turn back or take a chance on slipping through the mine fields. It is always possible to sail through a mine field—provided you sail under a lucky star with a guardian angel at the helm.
"Hard aport! We'll risk it, boys." With a full spread of sail, we turned straight west.
Now, a tacking ship heels over. The more sail you carry the more she lays over, and the less water she draws. That was our chance. The mines were nearly always planted several feet under water, just out of sight. Perhaps we could slide right over them. Lifeboats were lowered, and every man adjusted his lifebelt. Before the mast, the sailors; aft, the captain. But we all kept to the foreship. We were lower aft than fore, and if a mine went off it probably would be aft. But our luck held and we got through in safety.