Success was a duty. The first step toward a failure was to believe in one. I had figured up my plan so carefully that I knew what could be done, always providing that the steamer was up to her guaranty. I was thrilled by the situation; but I was confident and determined. I could not take my eye off the course for an instant to look at Colonel Wimpleton and his son; but I could judge of their suspense and anxiety by the breathless silence they maintained. If the Ucayga took the ground, I should hear from them then; and that would be as soon as I cared to have the spell broken.
I had not yet reached the most difficult point of the navigation. If I continued on my straight course, the steamer would strike on the North Shoe, and the problem to be practically solved was whether the boat could be turned about forty-five degrees without being swept upon the shoals to the northward. She was a long vessel, and it required all the philosophy and science I possessed to meet the question. When the helm was put to starboard, the momentum of the steamer would tend to throw her course outside of the arc of the circle she would describe in turning. The faster she went the greater would be her momentum, or, after she had begun to turn, her centrifugal force.
I had studied a great deal over this question since I visited Ruoara to purchase the Belle, for I was convinced that this passage must be open to the boat in order to enable her to compete with the railroad, by saving at least ten minutes of precious time. I had studied it over very carefully, with every possible allowance for wind and current. I had chalked out diagrams of the channel on the ceiling-boards of the Belle, and my policy was thoroughly defined in my own mind. The channel between the Horse Shoe and the North Shoe was perhaps a hundred and twenty feet wide—it did not vary twenty feet from this distance, I knew. When the boat was within a hundred feet of the bend in the channel, I rang to stop her.
“I thought you would have to back out,” said Colonel Wimpleton, drawing a long breath, perhaps of relief to find that the magnificent craft was not already high and dry on the shoals.
“I’m not going to back out, sir—by no means,” I replied, as I threw the wheel over to starboard.
The Ucayga surged ahead under the impetus she had attained, and turned her bow to the west, with the shoal close aboard of her on the port side. She minded her helm beautifully, and as soon as I had brought the bow flagpole in range with the chimney of a certain cottage on the west shore, I rang to go ahead. Righting the helm, I let her go again at full speed. The allowance I had made for the centrifugal sweep of the boat carried me clear of the shoals on the starboard hand; and, though I had hugged the shoal on the port hand, the actual course of the boat was very nearly in the middle of the channel. In a couple of minutes more all danger had been passed.
“You may take the helm now, if you please, Mr. Van Wolter,” said I to the mate.
“By the great horn spoon,” roared Waddie, “we are out of that scrape!”
“That was done as handsomely as ever I saw anything done in my life!” exclaimed the mate, with a broad grin on his good-natured face.
“I don’t know about that, Wolf,” said the colonel, shaking his head, while the relief which he felt was plain enough upon his face.