CHAPTER XIIFIGHTING A GALE
That night a policeman was placed on Garnett and Sayer’s wharf, in accordance with the chief’s promise, and when Jack and his mate turned in, it was with easier minds. Mr. Holden, after hearing of the attack, endeavored to dissuade Jack from again sleeping on the sloop, but the boy pointed out that, with the regular watchman and a policeman on duty, there was small likelihood of further molestation. Mr. Holden at length agreed, and, as Jack anticipated, they were not disturbed. The captain awoke soon after four o’clock in the morning and, going up on deck, saw the watchman and police officer standing at the edge of the wharf, yarning.
“Well, you haven’t had any more ghostsprowling around, eh?” the policeman laughed as he caught sight of the lad.
“No, and there aren’t likely to be any if we keep tabs on them this way,” replied the boy. “Say, Cap’n Crumbie, I hear that the bluefish have been biting. Where’s the best place to get them?”
“You’re liable to get ’em anywheres outside the breakwater,” the watchman replied. “A chap came in with a big catch yesterday. He said he had to go a good ways out, though. You going fishing?”
“I’d love to,” replied Jack. “And George wants to. I’ve half a mind to slip out for an hour or two before it’s time to begin running the ferry.”
“Don’t go too far,” warned Cap’n Crumbie, craning his neck as he stared upward at the sky. “It’s all right at present, but I shouldn’t be surprised if it came on to blow a mite harder.”
“There’s no wind now, to speak of,” said Jack.
“Not down here,” replied the watchman.“But look at them clouds a mile or so up. ’Tain’t blowing hard, even there, but I’m just telling you to keep your eyes open; see?”
“All right, Cap’n, thanks,” said Jack. Then he climbed up on the wharf and went off in search of bait. Ten minutes later he returned and aroused his chum.
“All hands on deck!” he cried, popping his head through the companionway door. “Come on, George. I’ve got the bait. Let’s go get ’em!”
The mate needed no second invitation. In less than sixty seconds he was hauling on the mainsail halyards, and soon the sloop was standing down the harbor, a picture of grace as she glided through the smooth water. There was a gentle northwesterly breeze which gave a bare ripple to the surface and sent the sloop along like some beautiful lazy bird with the red hue of dawn staining its wings. Both boys were looking forward enthusiastically to this treat, which they had promised themselves for some time. As soon as they reached the open sea a hand-line with a good heavy lead was droppedastern, and while Jack stood at the helm George squatted on the deck, facing the trailing wake, in which the bait danced sixty feet astern.
“Yell out the second you get a strike, and I’ll luff,” said Jack, with one eye on the sails and another on the intent figure of his chum.
“Aye, aye,” replied George, his face set with grim determination; for fishing, and especially bluefishing, was the particular joy of his life.
Straight to the south they ran, for a couple of miles, without getting a bite. Then Jack headed in the direction of Four Fathom Shoal, with similar results. Round came the sloop once more, the captain taking her over all the most likely fishing-grounds, and both the lads were beginning to think that the fish among which the Greenport man had had such excellent sport the previous day must be miles away by now.
“Luff!” George cried unexpectedly, at the top of his voice, as, with both hands, he steadied the trailing line.
Up into the wind came theSea-Lark, shaking her sails as though indignant at being thuschecked in the midst of her career, and George, with his teeth clenched, hung on but was unable to draw in a foot of line.
“What is it? A whale?” Jack exclaimed with delight, watching the straining line.
“No. A sardine!” replied George, jerkily, his eyes aflame with excitement. “Get that boat-hook ready. We’ll need a crane to lift this fellow out of the water.”
“Don’t hurry him!” Jack urged as his chum began impatiently to try to haul in.
Suddenly the line began to slip through George’s wet hands. The gamy fish had made a prodigious rush, but its captor soon managed to check the runaway, and then the real battle began. Foot by foot the mate drew his prey toward him, and foot by foot the prey contested the struggle, until its strength gave out. Then, for a while, as George brought the line in more quickly, he half feared the fish must have got off the hook. He had hauled it within four or five yards of the sloop when the captive began to show fight afresh, and made a mad dash down into the depths. There was less “punch”in it now, however, and the final effort did not last long. Soon its bright silvery belly showed clearly in the water as George drew it nearer. Jack leaned over the side with the boat-hook, ready to hoist it by the gills.
“It’s a pretty good size—for a sardine,” he commented dryly. “Keep that line tight, chump! There!”
The boat-hook was firmly caught in the fish’s gills, and with a comical expression of wonderment the mate saw his prize drawn inboard.
“Why—why, itisa bluefish, I suppose?” he said, surveying the beautiful creature now flopping about in the bottom of the cockpit. “I’ve never seen one quite so big as that.”
“It’s twelve or thirteen pounds of bluefish, all in one piece,” replied Jack, admiringly. “They don’t run to that size very often round about here. You’re a hero! I don’t believe that when Cap’n Crumbie starts stuffing the summer visitors with his yarns he ever pretends to have hauled in a bluefish any larger than that. Bait up, and have another go.”
But George’s catch had evidently been a solitarystraggler, or the shoal had gone off the feed, for though the sloop sailed to and fro for three quarters of an hour longer, the bait danced astern unmolested.
“Let’s try for cod,” Jack suggested at length, when it became apparent that they were wasting their time. Away went the anchor, in fifteen fathoms of water, and the lads dangled hook and line over the side patiently for another fifteen minutes.
“Mr. Codfish isn’t at home, either,” Jack declared, beginning to wind up his line. “We’ll try a little farther off. Up with the mud-hook, George.”
Half a mile farther to the south they again tried, and not even a sculpin rewarded their efforts. Jack looked up at the blue sky and glanced further out to sea.
“We’ll have one more shot at it,” he said. “The weather is holding good. I’m going to tempt ’em off Knife Rock.”
Again the sloop glided away from the land. The buildings on the Point became a blur. The squat stone lighthouse stuck up less plainly.
“This is somewhere about the right spot,” Jack said at length. “If we don’t make a haul inside half an hour or so, though, we shall have to go, because it’s a good way from here to the harbor, and we shall have to beat our way back.”
Two minutes later he gave a movement of the wrist, and his face lighted up.
“Bite?” George inquired.
“Yes, the right kind, too,” replied the captain. “I’d be very much surprised if that wasn’t a—”
Again he gave a deft movement of the wrist, and then began to draw up the line. A fish was on, fighting gamely, but, cod-like, its fight was brief. Jack estimated as he hauled it aboard that it weighed four pounds.
“It’s a baby compared with your bluefish,” he admitted, baiting up afresh, “but if we’re going to get sport like this, I’ll hate to leave it.”
Almost immediately afterward both boys hooked fish at the same time, and the prospect of the eight-o’clock ferry-boat leaving Garnettand Sayer’s wharf promptly on time began to look less certain. The minutes slipped by quickly, and several more captures were made. Then there came a pause. Jack was on the point of drawing in his line and making ready for the return run, when a sharp tug drew all his attention, and during the next quarter of an hour the fish were biting greedily. So preoccupied was the captain that he did not notice at first that the gentle breeze, before which they had run out from the harbor, had freshened considerably.
“We’d better call it a day!” he said at length, reluctantly. “Cap’n Crumbie was right when he said there was going to be more wind. Lend a hand here with the anchor, quickly!”
An angry little squall swept over the surface while the boys were tugging at the cable.
“What’s the matter with the thing!” Jack exclaimed, as the anchor refused to come up.
“It’s stuck in the sand,” George said. “Give it time.”
But, though the lads strained to the utmost, the anchor refused to budge.
“Here’s a nice fix!” said Jack, after a while, resting from his exertions. “Do you know what I believe?”
George shook his head dismally.
“I believe we’ve been fishing right over the place where that schooner went down last winter. Anyway, the anchor has caught fast on something, and we sha’n’t see it again till the ocean runs dry.”
“What are you going to do? Cut it adrift?”
“Nothing else to do. Isn’t it a pity! Let’s have one more good haul first.”
All this time the wind was rapidly gaining force. The boys spent full twenty minutes, in all, struggling to release their anchor from the bottom of the sea, and then the skipper drew out his knife and hacked the manila rope through. The end disappeared over the side with a splash just as a fresh squall burst upon the sloop.
“Whew! That’s fierce!” exclaimed the elder boy. “She’ll need to be close-reefed for the job.”
More precious minutes were wasted whilethe reef-points were being tied. By the time the mainsail could be hauled half a gale was blowing; and though they were but a few miles from shore, the sea was rising ominously. The wind had swung round a little more to the north, making the task of beating back to Greenport more difficult. Hoping that he might fall in with a friendly tow, Jack looked around anxiously for some fishing-vessel bound on the same journey, but as luck would have it, there was nothing in sight. This gave the boy no serious concern for a while as he bore away on the starboard tack, heading about northwest toward the shore, but before long he found the sloop needed delicate handling to avoid being capsized in the squalls, which now came in rapid succession. Even with only two thirds of her usual spread of canvas, theSea-Larklisted over dangerously under the pressure of the wind, her lee rail often being under water while her bow was pounded continually by the rising sea. The worst, however, Jack knew still lay ahead, for he must soon go about and make a wide sweep to the northeast, this taking themfarther out to sea, where a much rougher time had to be anticipated. He consulted George on the problem.
“We can either turn ’round and run down the coast to Penley,” he said, “or we can take a chance and try to work our way back to the harbor. What do you think? It’s pretty rough, and as soon as we find ourselves out there we shall get a drenching, for certain.”
“Well, she’ll make it,” replied George, pluckily, though he was wet through with spume already, and this was his first experience of such weather out in the open sea. “We don’t want to funk it now, surely.”
“That’s what I think,” replied the captain; “only if you’d rather, I’m willing to make for Penley.”
“I’m game to try for Greenport, if you are,” the younger boy declared.
“All right. Here goes!” And the plunging sloop swung on the port tack, heading northeast and out to the open sea. She struggled along for fifteen minutes or so, but it then became apparent that all was not going well. Tocarry more sail was an impossibility, and the sloop’s maneuvers were not taking her a foot nearer harbor against wind and sea. Though awkward, the position was not alarming, for it was still possible to swing on the starboard tack again and reach the lee of the land away to the southwest of Greenport, where they would have to remain until the gale eased.
“It’s no good,” Jack declared. “Guess it’ll have to be Penley, after all. I’m getting hungry, aren’t you?”
“Don’t mention breakfast to me,” protested George. “I could eat the side of a house!”
As Jack put the helm over, the canvas flapped and slashed madly, and then, as the sails bellied, a terrific gust of wind swept down on theSea-Lark. Before Jack had time to ease her up into the wind again she listed far over, the wind screaming in her halyards while a smother of spume weltered over her deck. It seemed that something must give way under the strain, and in the midst of the confusion the eye-bolt pulled out of the mast. Down fell the peak, and to hisalarm Jack found the mainsail out of commission at the very moment when it was most needed.
Leaving the wheel to take care of itself—for the boat was no longer under control—he sprang forward to help George in the task of getting the useless sail down and stowing the jib, and as the sloop fell away into the trough of the sea, trouble of a very real nature began to overwhelm her. A solid green wave slapped the side and slopped inboard, filling the cockpit and nearly washing both captain and mate off their feet. Away poured the water through the scuppers, but, although the companionway door was closed, much of the sea leaked down into the cabin, and by the time the lads had furled the sails their attention was badly needed at the pump. Jack jumped into the cockpit and worked away at the crank furiously, while the sloop drifted along under bare poles, utterly at the mercy of every wave which came her way. At times she dug her nose deep down into the center of a rearing sea and fell away from it crazily, broaching to, only to behalf swamped by the succeeding wave. Away were swept all the fish the lads had caught. Time after time the cockpit was full of water, and there was nothing Jack could do to prevent it leaking down into the cabin. So long as the pump did not choke he hoped to be able to keep her afloat unless she turned over, but the danger of the latter was now increasing every minute, for the gale was gaining strength and the sloop was drifting farther from the lee of the land all the time. Before long the breakwater, the houses on the Point, and even the lighthouse had dipped below the horizon, and theSea-Larkwas the center of an angry circle of foam-flecked water, bounded on every point of the compass by the sky-line only.
“We’re in for it, for fair, now,” said Jack, standing by his chum’s side in the little cockpit and recovering his breath while George took a hand at the pump. “And there isn’t a blessed sail in sight. Now see what’s coming, just to cheer us up a bit.”
The first heavy drops of a pelting storm splashed down on deck, and soon the boys hadnot only the spray from the sea but also rain slashing their faces whenever they turned to windward.
“I don’t think I’ll play at this any longer,” said George, glancing up at his chum with a humorous grimace as he toiled away at the pump. “Let’s go home.”
He did not realize quite as well as Jack did how serious was their plight. With anchor gone, sails useless, and a storm driving them away from shelter, to say nothing of the half-swamped condition of their vessel, there was a distinct possibility that neither of them would ever get home again. Though Jack did not show it, he was beginning to feel that their chances were decidedly slender.
“Let me have another go at that pump,” he said, as the sloop recovered somewhat awkwardly from the swirl of a white-capped wave. “Maybe the wind will go down soon, and then we shall manage somehow, but we’ve got to keep busy with the pump.” Little though he liked to think so, he felt sure the sluggish movements of theSea-Larkwere due to her havingshipped too much water. His hands were becoming blistered with the task, and his arms ached, but there was no alternative to struggling on. Any moment there might appear the brown sail of a fishing-vessel, and it was this thought which buoyed him up even when things looked blackest. Several hours, however, drifted on before his restless eyes rested on a speck on the horizon and a cry of thankfulness burst from him.
“Oh, gee! there’s a schooner or something!” he shouted, pointing across the wind-swept ocean, away to the east. “If she’s bound for Greenport she will have to cut in close to us when she tacks.”
Their spirits rose high. The speck in the distance steadily increased, until the boys felt certain they must be sighted.
“Just in time, too!” George exclaimed. “They’ll be getting kind of anxious about us at home by now, I fancy.”
Suddenly, however, the boys’ hopes were destroyed. The far-off schooner went about and before long was hull down once more. Thiscame as a terrible disappointment to Jack and his chum, for there seemed little likelihood of the gale subsiding before night. And, unpleasant though their position was in the daytime, it would be infinitely worse in the darkness. Though the rain stopped, the force of the wind did not diminish. Jack’s nerve became just a trifle shaky for the first time when he knew that the daylight was actually failing. The boys were both exhausted with continual pumping; and though, with such real danger staring them in the face they gave little thought to the subject of food, the long fast was beginning to tell on them. George’s face was haggard, and the captain would not have allowed him to take more than an occasional brief trick at the pump, but there was no alternative to both lads sharing the work. Their hands were raw, and every muscle in their bodies seemed to be crying aloud in protest.
“We’ll stick it as long as we can,” said Jack, laboring painfully at the pump as darkness enveloped the stricken sloop. “We’ve drifted miles and miles away from Greenport by now,but there’s always a chance, so long as we keep afloat.”
“I don’t believe the wind is blowing quite so hard,” replied George, who felt decidedly limp, and clung to the side of the cockpit while the other lad worked with waning strength.
“It seems to be easing off a bit,” replied Jack, encouragingly, though he saw not the remotest sign of any such thing happening. “Anyway, I’d rather keep on pumping for the present than swim, wouldn’t you?”
The seas were running mountain-high, their curling crescents frequently falling inboard with an alarming swish. A great wave, rushing through the blackness, towered high near them for an instant, as though contemplating its prey hungrily. Then it came on, while theSea-Larklay broadside to. There was a roar of rushing waters. Jack gave a warning cry, and then both the lads were gasping for breath under the torrent. A smother of sea and foam swept about over them, filling the cockpit, and pouring over the other side of the deck. Jack felt that this must be the finish.