The Secret of the Reef, Page 6

  CHAPTER VI--BLOWN OFF

  Though it was nearly eleven o'clock at night, the light had not quitegone and the sea glimmered about the sloop as she rose and fell at hermoorings by the wreck. To the north the sky was barred with streaks ofragged cloud and the edge of the sea-plain was harshly clear; to theeast the horizon was hidden by a cold, blue haze, and the tide was nearthe lowest of its ebb. An angry white surf broke along the uncoveredshoals with a tremulous roar, and the swell, though smooth as oil on itssurface, was high and steep. No breath of wind touched the water, butJimmy agreed with Moran that there was plenty on the way.

  A light burned in the low-roofed cabin where the men waited for the mealwhich Bethune was cooking. They felt languid as well as tired andhungry, for supper had been long deferred to enable them to continuediving, and they had been under water much oftener than was good forthem during the day. The bulkhead they strove to clear of sand was stillinaccessible, and, as bad weather had frequently hindered work, theyfelt compelled to make good use of every favorable minute. This was whythey had held on to the wreck, instead of entering the bight before thefalling tide rendered its approach dangerous. Moreover, their provisionswere running low, and Bethune was experimenting with some damaged flourwhich had lain forgotten in a flooded locker for several days while theyrode out a gale. The bannocks he turned in the frying-pan had a sour,unappetizing smell.

  "They may taste better than they promise," he said encouragingly. "Ifthe sky had looked as bad at half-tide as it does now, I'd have made youtake her in. We won't get much done to-morrow."

  Moran stretched himself out listlessly on the port locker.

  "We ought to tie two reefs in the mainsail handy, but I feel played out,and the breeze may not come before morning. It strikes me the mostimportant thing is the question of grub. We can't hang on much longer ifthat flour's too bad to eat. I can't see how it went so moldy in a dayor two. You can leave a flour-bag in the water for quite a while andthen find the stuff all right except for an inch on the outside."

  "That's so," Jimmy put in. "My notion is that the flour was bad when wegot it. The ship-chandler fellow had a greedy eye. But when you dealwith the man who finds the money you can't be particular."

  "He's pretty safe," grumbled Bethune. "With a bond on the boat for hisloan and a big profit on everything he supplied, the only risk he runsis of our losing her--though I'll admit that nearly happened once ortwice. However, you can try the flour."

  Taking the frying-pan off the stove, he served out a thick, greasybannock and a very small piece of pork to each of his companions. Thefood was too hot to eat, and Jimmy, breaking his with his knife, waitedwith some anxiety while it cooled. If they could use the flour, it wouldenable them to remain a week or two longer at the wreck; and he believedit would not take many days to reach the strong-room. Failing this, itlooked as if he must return to his toil at the sawmill and the drearylife in the cheap hotels.

  He believed that he had learned on board the sailing ships not to bedainty, but he sniffed at the food with repugnance and then resolutelycut off a piece. When he had eaten a bite of it he threw down his knife.

  "It's rank!" he exclaimed.

  Moran, reaching up through the scuttle, threw his bannock overboard.

  "Very well!" said Bethune. "That shortens our stay. Perhaps we hadbetter get the pumps down into the cockpit when you have finished thepork and tea."

  They did so, grumbling, and then lay on the lockers, smoking anddisinclined for sleep. There was a tension in the air, and somethingominous in the roar of the surf, which seemed to grow louder and moreinsistent.

  "Whether we'll find the gold or not is doubtful; the only thing certainis that we'll have an opportunity for doing a lot of work," Bethuneobserved after a while. "In a way, Hank's more to be pitied than eitherof us. He hadn't the option of taking things easily when he came outWest."

  "The big lobsters were most killed off; you couldn't make your grub withthe traps," Moran explained. "Then I got some little books showing itwas easy to get rich by fishing in British Columbia. Wish I had theliars who wrote them out in a half-swamped dory picking up a trawl."

  "I don't see that I had much more option than he had," Jimmy objected.

  "You could have stayed on board the liner, wearing smart uniforms andfaring sumptuously, with a Chinese steward to look after you, if you'dexercised a little tact and shown a proper respect for authority. Whenthe skipper disapproved of a man with heart trouble steering his ship,as he had every right to do, you should have agreed with him."

  "I'm glad I didn't," Jimmy said stubbornly. "Anyhow, you're no betteroff, even if you practise what you preach."

  "That would be too much to expect; but then I admit that I am a fool,"Bethune laughed. "If I doubted it, the number of times it has beendelicately pointed out would have convinced me. After all, it's easy toconform outwardly, which is all that is required, and you can do whatyou like in private. A concession to popular opinion here and theredoesn't cost one much."

  "If you mean I ought to have got the quartermaster sacked after he'dprevented a ton of cargo from dropping on my head, I'd rather starve."

  "There's a risk of your doing so if you persist in your foolishness. Ifyou had stopped to reason, you would have seen it was your duty to agreewith your skipper. Misguided pity is a dangerous thing."

  "Moralizing of this kind makes my headache worse!" said Jimmydisgustedly. "Drop it and light your pipe!"

  "Let him alone; he has to talk," Moran interposed. "It doesn't matter solong as you don't worry about what he means."

  "Well," drawled Bethune, "I'll conclude. Which of you is going to washup?"

  Moran picked up the dirty plates and thrust them into a locker.

  "I'm played out and homesick! Wish I was back East, where I did myfishing in the natural way--on top of the water! But it's a sure thingnone of us will be down at the wreck to-morrow."

  There was silence except for the rumble of the surf and the occasionalrap of a halyard against the mast. The sound became more frequent asJimmy got drowsy, but he was used to the approach of bad weather.Stretched out comfortably on the locker, he soon fell asleep; and it wasas dark as it ever is in the North in summer when he was rudely awakenedby a terrific jar. The sloop seemed to be rearing upright, and Moran'shoarse shouts were all but drowned by the rattle of chain on deck.

  Scrambling out quickly, Jimmy saw the fisherman stooping forward wherethe cable crossed the bits, and a narrow stretch of smoking sea ahead.Individual combers emerged from it, and the sloop alternately reeledover them with a white surge boiling at her bows and plunged into thehollows. Jimmy, however, wasted no time in looking about; they had hungon to their moorings longer than was prudent, and prompt action wasneeded.

  With Bethune's assistance he close-reefed the mainsail and got theshortened canvas up; then all three were needed to break out the anchor,and Jimmy crouched in the water that swept the forward deck as he stowedit while his comrades hoisted a storm-jib. After that she drove awaybefore the sea, and the men anxiously watched for the entrance to thechannel. Though dawn had not broken, it was by no means dark, and theycould see the streaky backs of the rollers that ran up the shoals, andbeyond them a broad, white band of surf. Presently a break opened up,but it was narrow and crooked, and it seemed impossible that the sloopcould get through. When they had run on for a minute or two longer,Moran stood up on deck to command a better view.

  "We'd have about two feet under her at the bend, and if she didn't luffup handy she'd sure go ashore," he said. "Seems to me the chances aretoo blamed steep."

  They might reach shelter by taking the risk, and to refuse it meant astruggle with the sea; but Jimmy reluctantly agreed with Moran.

  "Yes," he said; "we had better stand off. Look out while I jibe herround."

  She swung on before the sea as he put up his helm, followed close by acomber that reared its crest astern, her boom flung on end with thepatch of wet mainsail swelling like a balloon. Moran and Bethune weredes
perately busy with the sheet, for safety depended on their speed.Jimmy moved his wheel another spoke, and sail and heavy spar swung over,while the _Cetacea_, coming round, buried her lee deck in the sea. Witha wild plunge she shook off the water, and, while Bethune and hiscomrade flattened in the sheets, drove out to windward away from thedangerous shoal. Since they could not reach the bight, she would besafer in open water.

  When dawn broke, ominously red, the _Cetacea_ was hove to with a smalltrysail set, rising and falling with a drunken stagger, as the long,white seas rolled up on her weather bow. Though she shipped no heavywater, she was drifting fast to leeward: the island had faded to a graystreak on the horizon. It would be a day's work to beat back again, evenif the wind abated, and it showed no sign of doing so. By noon the landwas out of sight, and the sea had grown heavier. For an hour or twothere was misty sunshine, and the oncoming walls of water glistenedluminously blue beneath their incandescent crests. Some of them curleddangerously, and the trysail flapped, half empty, when the _Cetacea_sank into the trough. She lay there a few moments while her crew watchedthe comber that rose ahead. With slanted mast and rag of drenched sailshe looked uncomfortably small; but somehow she staggered up the slopebefore the roller broke. Jimmy could not tell how far he helped her withthe helm, but the sweat of nervous strain dripped from his face as heturned his wheel. Now and then she was a few seconds slow in respondingto it, and when her bows swung clear her after-half was buried in a rushof spouting foam. It sluiced off, however, and the sharp swoop into thetrough was repeated as comber after comber swept upon them.

  When Moran relieved him, Jimmy felt worn out. He had had only an hour ortwo's sleep after a day of exhausting work; his breakfast had consistedof a morsel of stale, cold fish, hurriedly torn with his fingers fromthe lump in the pan; and they had had no opportunity for cooking dinner.

  "I'll try to make some coffee," he said, as he went below.

  It was difficult to light the stove. The cabin trickled with moisturelike a dripping-well. Grate and wood were wet; and when at last the firebegan to crackle, Jimmy had to kneel on a locker as he held the kettleon, in order to keep his feet out of the water which washed up from thebilge. There seemed to be a good deal of it.

  "Can't you start the pump?" he called to Bethune.

  "I might. I don't know that it would do much good. The suction'suncovered, and the delivery under water half the time."

  "Then come in and cook, while I get at it!"

  "Oh, I'll try!" Bethune answered morosely; and Jimmy resumed his watchon the kettle and left his companion alone.

  He knew the curious slackness which sometimes seizes men exposed to thefury of the sea. It differs from fatigue in being moral rather thanphysical, and it is distinct from fear; its victim is overwhelmed by asense of the futility of anything that he can do. Determined effort isits best cure, and Jimmy smiled as he heard the clatter of the pump. Hethought Bethune would feel better presently.

  He made the coffee, found a few of the tough cakes Moran calledbiscuits, and recklessly opened a can of meat. After the meal, whichthey all found a luxurious change from fish, Jimmy lay down, wet throughas he was, on a locker, and, wedging himself fast with parts of thedismantled diving pump, sank into broken sleep.

  It was midnight when he went up again to take the helm. There was nomoon, and gray scud obscured the sea. Foam-tipped ridges came rollingout of it, and the _Cetacea_ labored heavily. Jimmy watched Moran pump awhile before he went below, and then he pulled himself together to keephis dreary watch. The slow whitening of the east brought no change. Dawncame, and throughout another wearing day they still lay hove to. Thesloop did not give them much trouble, and they could easily pump out allthe water she shipped; but toward evening they began to feel anxious.The gale had increased. They must already have made a good deal ofleeway and they might be drifting near the land; if so, she would notcarry enough sail to drive her clear, and there would soon be an end ofher if she were blown ashore.

  Jimmy was on deck at dawn the next morning, but saw nothing except anarrow circle of foaming sea and the flying scud that dimmed thehorizon. Toward noon, however, it began to clear, and, getting out theglasses, he waited eagerly during an hour or two of fitful sunshine. Thewind seemed to be falling, and the haze had thinned. Slowly it blewaway, and a high, gray mass rose into view, four or five miles off.Moran called out as he saw it, but Jimmy quietly studied the landthrough his glasses.

  "The head, sure enough!" he said. "If it had kept thick, we'd have beenashore and breaking up long before dark. Now we have to decide what it'sbest to do. She might stand a three-reefed mainsail."

  "It would take us a week to beat back to the island, and we wouldn'thave many provisions left when we got there," Bethune pointed out. "Idon't feel keen on facing the long thrash to windward."

  "She wouldn't be long making Comox with this breeze over her quarter,"Moran suggested. "We might get somebody to grubstake us at one of thestores."

  "Considering that there's a bond on her, it isn't likely," Jimmyreplied.

  They let her drift while they looked gloomily to windward, where theisland lay. It would need a stern effort to reach it unless the windshould change; a long stretch of foaming sea which the sloop must bedriven across close-hauled divided the men from the wreck. They were allworn out and depressed; and neither of Moran's comrades protested whenhe got up abruptly and slacked off the mainsheet.

  "I guess we'll go where there's something to eat," he said. "You cansquare off for the straits while I loose the mainsail."

  Jimmy put up his helm with a keen sense of relief, and the _Cetacea_swung away swiftly for the south with the sea behind her. It was nervouswork steering, and Jimmy advised Moran to leave the mainsail furled; butthe worst of the strain had passed, and rest and shelter lay ahead.