“Pooh!” exclaimed Maroon, contemptuously; “a blanket’ll make the best of sails.”
“Ay,” added Bowden, “and an oar will do well enough for a mast—anyhow we’ll try, for most votes carry in all well-regulated meetin’s.”
This plan, although attended with considerable danger, was finally agreed to, and forthwith acted on.
That afternoon the men on shore observed a very Robinson-Crusoe-like boat coming in from the sea with an oar-mast and a blanket-sail, from which landed “Captain” Teddy Maroon and his two mates. The same evening, however, the wind moderated and shifted a little, so that the relief boat, with provisions and the gang of men whose turn it was to do duty in the store-ship, succeeded in getting off and reaching their Buss in safety.
The weather became so bad soon after this that Smeaton thought it wise to bring his operations for that season to a close. Accordingly, on the 7th November, he visited the Rock, which had been cut into a regular floor of successive terraces or steps, and was considerably larger in circumference than the foundation on which Rudyerd’s building had rested. On the 15th the Buss sailed into Plymouth, the men having run out of provisions, and having been unable to do anything on the Rock.
A great storm raged on the 22nd. On the previous day Smeaton had gone off in the Buss to attach a buoy to the mooring chains for that winter. The task was laborious, and when it was completed they found it impossible to return to Plymouth, owing to the miserable sailing qualities of their vessel. There was nothing for it but to cast loose and run before the wind. While doing so they snapt the painter of the yawl, and lost it.
Thus they were, as it were, cast adrift upon the sea with neither maps, charts, books, nor instruments to guide them. No alarm, however, was felt, the neighbouring headlands being bold, and all on board having previously been at Fowey, to which port Smeaton now gave orders to steer.
Wet and worn out with labour, he then went below to snatch a few hours’ repose. In the night he was awakened by a tremendous noise overhead. The men were rushing about the deck, and shouting wildly. He sprang up without dressing. A voice, exclaiming, “For God’s sake heave hard on that rope if you want to save yourselves!” saluted him as he gained the deck. Roaring wind, a deluge of rain, and pitch darkness held revel on the sea; but above the din was heard the dreaded sound of breakers close under their lee. The jib was split, the mainsail half-lowered, and the vessel running gunwale under. By vigorous and well-directed action, in which John Bowden proved himself to be one of those men who are towers of strength in emergencies, the head of the Buss was brought round, and the immediate danger averted, but they had no idea where they were, and when day broke on the 23rd they found themselves out of sight of land! Their last boat, also, had filled while towing astern, and had to be cut adrift. At noon, however; they sighted the Land’s End—the wind blowing hard from the nor’-east.
“No chance o’ making a British port in this wind with such a vessel, sir,” said John Bowden, touching his cap respectfully to Mr Smeaton.
“As well try to bate to win’ard in me grandmother’s wash-tub,” remarked Teddy Maroon, in a disrespectful tone.