THE GALE
Throughout the night the stiff little craft gallantly breasted the
waves, making a much better passage than she had done on her outward
voyage, and at sunrise the highest peak of McKay's Island appeared
above the horizon.
But with the rising of the sun the wind increased in force, and an hour
later it was blowing half a gale, and dead astern.
Trembling on the crest of a huge wave, then sliding with a sickening
sensation down the green slope into the trough, the little craft held
on her course, steered by Andy's sinewy arm.
Mr. McKay, unable to keep his eyes open, lay deep in slumber upon one
of the bunks.
Ellerton, propped up by cushions, was kept awake by the motion of the
boat, every lurch causing his wound to pain horribly.
"Another couple of hours will find us home, Hoppy, old man," exclaimed
Terence cheerily, as he entered the cabin. "But it does blow."
"So I should think," replied Ellerton. "But how is she behaving?"
"Like a cork; we've only had the tail end of a couple of seas aboard.
Well, cheer up! Make yourself at home and wish you were," and with
this pleasantry Terence returned to keep Andy company.
Each time the yawl breasted the summit of a wave, the peak of McKay's
Island could be seen rearing its head above the waste of storm-tossed
waters. Each time it did so it appeared to be getting nearer.
Andy knew that there was danger ahead, but he forebore to mention the
fact to his chum.
The "back-wash" from the terrible reef, with its accompaniment of a
tumble of dangerous cross-seas, had to be encountered, and the risky
passage through the coral barrier made at all costs.
For half-an-hour more the seas, though high, were comparatively
regular, but at the expiration of that time the dinghy, which was being
towed astern, was filled by a vicious comber. The dead weight of the
water-logged craft caused the stout painter to snap like pack-thread,
and the next instant the tender was lost to view in the turmoil of
foaming water.
"Can't we go back for her?" shouted Terence, for the howling of the
wind made ordinary conversation inaudible.
"Impossible!" replied his chum. "She would be swamped before we hauled
to the wind. Besides, the dinghy's done for."
"It's a rotten look-out. We shall miss her."
"Yes," assented Andy. "But it can't be helped. Look here, Terence,
now we are going through a patch of broken water. I can see it a mile
or so ahead. We may have a few seas on board, so lash yourself to this
cleat and stand by with the bucket. You may have to bale for all
you're worth."
Terence closed the cabin-doors. Fortunately they were close-fitting
and comparatively watertight; but, on the other hand, the cockpit was
not a self-emptying one. Whatever quantity of water broke over had to
be baled out.
"We'll have one of those cans of kerosene out of that locker,"
continued Andy.
"Going to start the motor?"
"No; to throw oil on the sea. Kerosene's not very heavy, but it's all
we have. Now, stand by, here it comes."
Only a mile now separated the yawl from the entrance to the lagoon of
McKay's Island, but every yard of that mile was beset with dangers.
Andy gripped the tiller, and braced himself for the ordeal. He had
been the chief workman in the task of converting the boat into her
present form, and now his handiwork was to be put to the test. A
faulty piece of wood, a defective screw, an unsound rope--and their
lives would have to answer for it.
With a dull roar a white-crested wave broke over the fore-deck, burying
the little yawl as far as the mainmast; then ere she could recover
herself another comber came like a cataract over the lee quarter. Well
it was that both lads had taken the precaution of lashing themselves
on, otherwise they might have been swept clean out of the well.
Andy, wellnigh breathless--for he had been hit in the side by the
tiller as the boat attempted to broach to--retained sufficient presence
of mind to thrust the helm up and enable the craft to meet the next
following wave stern on.
"Bale!" he shouted. "Bale for your life!" and seizing the kerosene can
that was floating from side to side of the cockpit, he splayed a
quantity of oil over each quarter.
Terence, who was thrown in every direction as far as his tether would
allow, struggled manfully with the bucket, but could hardly cope with
the frequent showers of spray that literally played over the boat from
every point of the compass.
The helmsman noticed, with feelings of deepest concern, that the yawl
had made considerable headway since entering the zone of broken water,
and it would be touch-and-go whether they could avoid being carried on
to the lee side of the coral reef.
It was now nearly high tide, and the cruel ridges were covered,
although in the trough of the heavier waves the jagged lines of
glistening coral showed themselves above the smother of foam.
Andy tried his best to keep the boat's head towards the channel, but in
vain. She had lost ground, and was driving straight for the reef. One
chance alone remained. He must put the yawl about and endeavour to
claw-off the treacherous reef.
Like a top the little craft responded to the shift of the helm. For a
few brief seconds the reefed head-sail slatted violently in the howling
wind; then, to the accompaniment of another tremendous sea, the yawl
staggered on her fresh course.
Andy's idea was to sail round to the lee side of the island and cruise
about in the shelter of the reef till the gale moderated; but a few
moments sufficed to show him that the spread of canvas--already as much
as the vessel could carry--was not sufficient to take her to windward.
She was drifting broadside on to the reef.
"Quick, Terry!" he shouted. "Tell them to stand by and make a rush
directly you open the cabin door. The yawl's done for. She'll be
smashed to splinters in five minutes."
Mr. McKay received the appalling intelligence fairly calmly. He at
once proceeded to fasten a lifebelt round Ellerton's practically
helpless form, and then did a like service to Quexo. Nor did he forget
the prisoner, Blight. But, on sliding back the fo'c'sle hatch, he
found the man lying senseless on the floor. Either he had fainted
through sheer fright, or he had been stunned by being thrown against
one of the lockers, and bound hand and foot, had been unable to help
himself.
Blight was no feather-weight, but in spite of the plunging and rolling
of the doomed craft, Mr. McKay gripped him with one hand and dragged
his senseless body into the cabin. Then, cutting his bonds, he
completed his work of mercy by lashing the sole remaining lifebelt
round the body of his would-be murderer.
"You've nothing to put on," gasped Ellerton.
"True; but I have my strength," was the reply, as Mr. McKay stealthily
girded on a leather belt in which hung a formidable sheath-knife. It
was not the thought of being cast on the waters that troubled him.
Death, should it come, would be swift and merciful. But should they
survive the dangers of the reef there was the probability of far
greater peril.
Though he forbore to mention the fact to Ellerton, Mr. McKay thought of
the sharks, and with a fervent unspoken prayer to save them from these
creatures, he stood ready for the cabin door to be opened.
Meanwhile Terence and Andy had cut themselves free from their lashings.
Twenty yards away the reef showed its teeth as if waiting for its prey.
Then with a noise like the rattle of musketry, which drowned the
thunder of the breakers, the staysail burst asunder, and the yawl, in
spite of the helmsman's efforts, flew up into the wind.
Down in the trough of a murderous sea she sank. A rapid glance astern
showed the glistening reef towering several feet above the little
craft, the white foam pouring down the honeycombed ridges as if the
rock were baring itself to strike a harder blow.
"The door!" gasped Andy, as a gigantic roller bore down upon the reef.
Terence unfastened the cabin door, and as Mr. McKay appeared, holding
Ellerton and Quexo in his powerful grip, the yawl seemed to stand on
end. Then, borne on the breast of the roller, the little craft was
tossed like a cork right over the rocks, her keel scraping the lee side
of the reef by barely a yard!
The next instant the vessel was rolling sluggishly in the sullen swell
within the lagoon, with two feet of water in her cabin, yet still
afloat and in comparative safety.
"Don't wait to bale out!" shouted Andy. "You take the helm, pater.
Run her up into the wind and we'll anchor."
The ground swell inside the lagoon was too great to allow the yawl to
run alongside the usual jetty. They would have to wait till low tide,
when the reef would be sufficiently exposed to serve as a breakwater.
Quickly Andy and Terence made their way for'ard to let go the anchor.
When within a couple of hundred yards of the beach the yawl was again
put head to wind, and with a splash the anchor plunged to the bottom of
the lagoon. But just as Andy was checking the out-rushing cable, a
sudden blow from the staysail caught him unawares, and the next instant
he was struggling in the sea.
The waves carried the lad clear of the vessel, and in spite of his
utmost efforts he was unable to regain the boat. His father hurled a
coil of rope, but the line, being wet, became entangled and fell short.
Andy saw that it was impossible to swim back, so with a cheery wave of
his arm he pointed towards the surf-beaten shore, and immediately
struck out for land.
For an instant Mr. McKay intended to plunge into the sea and accompany
his son on his perilous swim, till the thought of the possibility of
Blight recovering his senses occurred to him. With Ellerton and Quexo
disabled, the margin of safety was not sufficient when only Terence
remained to guard the prisoner.
Both lads were surprised to see Mr. McKay rush into the flooded cabin
and return with a rifle and a belt of ammunition.
"Don't alarm him," said Andy's father hurriedly. "But there may be
sharks about."
Placing the rifle on the fo'c'sle of the heaving vessel, Mr. McKay
watched the progress of the swimmer with the greatest concern, at the
same time keeping a sharp look-out for the expected appearance of the
dreaded dorsal fin of one of the tigers of the deep.
Steadily Andy swam shorewards, keeping up a slow yet powerful side
stroke. Now he was in the grip of the ground swell. Once his feet
touched bottom, but ere he could obtain a firm footing the "undertow"
swept him backwards.
The next instant he was lost to sight in a white-capped roller. The
wave broke, then receded, but to the alarm of the anxious watchers
there were no signs of the swimmer.
Quickly the wide expanse of sand uncovered; then, just as another
breaker was preparing to launch itself upon the beach, Andy sprang to
his feet.
Knee-deep in water he rushed up the shelving shore, and managed to
grasp a ledge of rock ere he was again overwhelmed by the mighty
torrent. Fortunately he was able to retain his grasp, and directly the
rock uncovered he ran beyond the reach of the waves and sank exhausted
on the beach.
"He'll be all right in a minute," said Mr. McKay with a sigh of relief.
"Now, Ellerton, you had better stay here while we get rid of the water;
the bunks must be saturated. Come on, Terence, we've been through a
great deal, and now, thank God, we are safely home; but all the same,
we've plenty of work to do."
Thus exhorted, Terence assisted Mr. McKay to lower and stow the
mainsail and secure the fragment of the head sail that had caused so
much mischief.
This done, they plied buckets and balers till the level of the water
they had shipped sank well beneath the floor-boards of the cabin. The
yawl was no longer sluggish, but rose buoyantly as each roller passed
under her.
"This is the second gale from this quarter," remarked Mr. McKay, as
they were partaking of a hastily cooked meal. "It's taught me a
lesson. Had our boat been in her usual dock she would have been dashed
to pieces. At the first opportunity we'll lay down a heavy set of
moorings and keep her afloat. Here, thanks to the reef, the seas can
never be really dangerous, though on shore they break heavily."
"When shall we be able to land, do you think?" asked Terence, for the
short, sharp motion of the boat as she pitched at her cable was
beginning to prove distressing, both to him and Quexo.
"In a matter of three hours Andy will be able to launch the other
tender. We will then lay out another anchor, so as to make doubly
sure, and get ashore. Is Andy still on the beach?"
Terence went out of the cabin, and on returning reported that his chum
was ascending the cliff path.
"Now we'll secure this fellow Blight once more. I see he's coming
round," continued Mr. McKay.
Placing the prisoner again in the fo'c'sle he did not attempt to secure
his arms and legs. He merely tied the man's thumbs with a piece of
strong but fine cord, so that his arms were kept behind his back.
Unless he attempted to struggle, the prisoner would feel but slight
inconvenience, while this method was a perfect means of keeping him in
a state of utter helplessness.
Shortly after this was done Mr. McKay went on deck "to have a look
round." Gazing landward, he saw Andy standing on the edge of the lower
terrace, striving to attract his attention by means of a handkerchief
tied to a stick.
"There's Andy calling me up in the Morse code," said Mr. McKay. "I
wonder what's up? Terence, will you please hand me over that
signalling flag from the for'ard port locker?"
Andy, though not an expert signaller, knew the Morse system fairly
well. Slowly he transmitted the startling message:
"_The house has been broken into!_"