IN THE WHITE BOAT
Ahead of them was a rock rising fifty or sixty feet out of the water. It
was evident that the rock was inhabited for there could be seen dark
forms moving around upon it. Nothing had been said since they started,
for the Captain was not in a talkative mood. Jeems Howell, the shepherd,
had sat silently smoking his pipe in philosophic contentment.
"What are those things on that rock?" inquired Tom, his curiosity
getting the best of his reserve.
"Two yankees in this boat," commented the shepherd. "Those are seals,
son. Didn't you ever see any before?"
"No!" admitted Tom.
"You didn't know that seals, next to humans, are the smartest animals,
in the world."
"Is that so?" inquired Juarez. "They certainly are sleek."
"They have got the most brain room, that's a fact."
The boys regarded the seals with peculiar interest as the boat passed
near the rock. They were moving about awkwardly by means of their
flippers, moving their sinuous necks this way and that and regarding the
strange boat with their soft brown eyes. Then they dived headlong into
the sea, swimming about with a peculiar grace.
"Queer animals," remarked Tom, "belong half to the sea and half to the
land."
"Something like sailors," remarked the shepherd.
"What's the Captain going to do with us?" asked Juarez in a low voice.
The shepherd's face took on a solemn expression, but before he could
reply the Captain's voice roared.
"None of that, you'll find out soon enough. You can talk about the flory
and fauny, with long shanks, but don't let me hear anything else out of
you," such was the Captain's ultimatum.
But soon matters grew so interesting that they lost all inclination for
talking. When they got near the Southern end of the island they began to
notice white caps to the Southward, dotting the darkness of the sea.
"You lads will have to hold tight now in a few minutes," remarked
Howell. "Do you get seasick?"
"No," replied the boys.
"Well, you will have a chance soon, and if it don't fetch you, nothing
will."
So far they had been rowing under the sheltering lee of the island whose
huge rocky bulk had shouldered off the charge of the wind-driven seas.
Now before they had fairly rounded the island the character of the water
began to change. The boat began to toss on the great rollers. Then as
they cleared the land for good and were in the channel, a fresh gust of
wind struck them, drenching the occupants of the boat with spray.
The Captain stood up in the bow of the boat and steadying himself took
in the conditions of the sea and wind. There was nothing in his grim
weatherbeaten face to show what he felt. The men at the oars now made
hard work of it against the headwind and the running sea.
They would climb up a steep wave and then with a sickening slide, go
down into the hollow, then with a lusty pull the sailors would bring the
heavy boat over the toppling crest of wave to find another rushing to
meet them. No rest, this was what made it such heart breaking work.
The early fog had come, covering the sea with gloom, and the waves did
not go down perceptibly. At times, they shipped a good deal of water and
Tom and Juarez were kept busy bailing out. After an hour's hard
struggle the sailors were about all in and seemed hardly able to hold
their own against the sea and wind. The Captain was quick to notice
this.
"Can you row, lad?" he inquired of Juarez. Now the latter's experience
had been confined to his work going down the Grand Canyon of Colorado,
on the raft-boat that the Frontier Boys had built.
Even the old ocean itself could not show anything worse than some of the
rapids that the boys had run. As for rocks, nothing could beat the
canyon for them.
"I'll try, sir," he replied, "I've never rowed on the ocean."
"Humph!" grunted the Captain, "take the starboard. And you, you lazy
long shanks, you take the other oar."
"All right, sir," replied cheerfully, the one addressed.
"Get out of here, Pete," he cried, giving that worthy a lift with his
foot that landed him on top of Tom, "I'll do the steering. You boys will
only have to pull, that's all. I'll keep her headed up right."
Fortunately Juarez was in fine condition, or he could never have stood
the gruelling work ahead. He weighed one hundred and sixty pounds and
there was not an ounce of fat on him. Likewise he had had a sound
night's sleep and three square meals so that he was fortified for what
was ahead.
Juarez buckled to the task with all his strength, and he was glad of the
chance to get his blood in circulation for he was chilled to the bone by
the flying spray, and then too, anything was better than thinking of the
fate ahead. He was surprised to find out that the shepherd who appeared
rather frail in physique was able to keep up the pace.
But he had that sinewy length of muscles that counts for more than mere
bunchy thickness. Juarez was crafty enough not to spend all of his
strength in the first fifteen minutes of work. He liked this, fighting
the sea and standing on his feet he was able to put the whole leverage
of his body into the stroke.
The change in speed was noticeable right away, and the boat began to
pull ahead steadily. The two sailors who had been laid off from
exhaustion, had watched Juarez with a sneering grin as he took the oar.
They were sure that the first wave that came along would wrench the oar
out of his hand. Great was their surprise when they saw him buckle to
the oar, rising and pulling at the right time to meet the toppling,
rustling seas.
"That little shrimp will last about ten minutes," said one of them to
his mate.
"Sure, Bill," replied the other.
Juarez choked back a hot reply, for he knew that it would not be good
for him to say anything to them. They were in the majority and would get
him if he did, besides making it bad for Tom. The ten minutes passed and
Juarez was just beginning to warm to his work. This took the wind out of
their sails completely.
The powerful hand of the Skipper at the steering oar was a great help,
for now all that the two men at the oars had to do was to pull and not
to worry about keeping her headed right. Juarez kept steadily at it for
an hour and then darkness began to fall over the channel but not until
the island that they were approaching had begun to loom up, dead ahead.
They were now getting in the lee of the strange island and the sea was
moderating perceptibly. At this juncture the two sailors who had become
thoroughly rested took the oars from Juarez and his co-worker and pulled
steadily through the gathering gloom. In a short time the bulk of the
island loomed above them in the darkness.
Not a word was said, only the swish of the sea was heard and the
groaning of the oars in the locks. Tom and Juarez were deeply depressed
and gloomy. They felt exactly as though they were being taken to prison
and could sympathize with sailors who had been marooned on lonely and
desolate islands.
"Easy now, lads," called the Captain, as he brought the boat's head
squarely around towards the shore.
"Two strokes," he yelled, "and let her run."
With great force they pulled the oars in succession, then they shipped
them in a hurry. Juarez could see the dashing of foam on either side of
the boat where the waves smote the rocks. There was a roar in his ears
as the boat rushed toward seeming sure destruction. It was going with
great speed from the impetus of the sailors' strokes.
The Captain was standing taut at the steering oars, his eyes piercing
the darkness ahead, then the foam of the breakers dashed in their faces,
there was a quick sliding past of dark rocks and before they could draw
breath again the boat was in quiet water, under some black cliffs. At
last they had reached the mysterious goal of their mysterious journey.