THE VOYAGE OF THE "APHRODITE."
Saturday dawned soft and warm. After breakfast the boys cooked the few
provisions that remained, intending to eat their mid-day meal in the
boat, as a mere luncheon, and to satisfy their appetites with better
food of Maum Sally's preparing, when they should arrive at Bluffton.
They filled the coffee-pot with drinking water--for the water kegs of
the _Red Bird_ had been lost in that boat's mishap,--and bestowed their
other scant belongings on board. The moment that the outgoing tide grew
slack they began their homeward voyage, giving the old camp three lusty,
farewell cheers, and parting with their old associations there with a
touch of real regret.
For the first mile or two Ned and Jack were at the oars. Then Charley
relieved Ned, as the boat drew out from among the low-lying marsh
islands into a broad stretch of water.
The wind was blowing in from the sea, not strongly, but steadily, and
after an hour's rowing Jack saw that Ned was rather uneasily watching
some light, low-flying banks of mist which were scudding along overhead.
"What is it, Ned?" he asked.
"Nothing of importance--or at least I hope so."
"Well, what is it? Do those little clouds mean rain?"
"I wish they did," said Ned; "but they're not clouds, at least in the
usual sense, and I'm afraid they don't mean rain."
"Out with it. We're partners in all our joys and sorrows," said Charley,
"so let's hear all about the clouds that aren't clouds but something
else. What are they?"
"A sea fog," answered Ned; "this breeze is coming in from the sea laden
with moisture, and those clouds just above us are banks of fog."
"Well, what of it?"
"We shall be shut in in five minutes," said Ned. "Look! you can't see
half a mile now, and it is settling right down upon us, growing thicker
every minute."
It was as Ned said. The wall of thick fog was closing in, and it was
already impossible to see any thing except the waste of water around
them. A few minutes later even the water could be seen for only a few
yards around.
"Lie on your oars, boys," said Ned.
"Why not row on?" asked Charley.
"Because I don't know which way to steer, and rowing may only take us
out of our course."
"Can't you hold your course straight ahead?"
"No. That would be possible in a fog if rowing always drove a boat
straight ahead, and if there were no cross currents in the water; but
both 'ifs' stand in the way. Without a compass nobody can keep a boat in
any thing like a straight course in such a fog. The tide is running up,
and so if we don't row at all we shall drift in the right direction, at
least in a general way, while if we row, we may go all wrong."
"How long is such a fog likely to last?" asked Jack.
"It is impossible to tell. A change in the wind or in the state of the
atmosphere may clear it away at any moment; or it may last a week."
"A week!" exclaimed Charley; "what shall we do if it does? We haven't an
ounce of food left, and only a little water," looking into the
coffee-pot.
"We needn't manage the whole week this afternoon," said Jack. "It will
be better to keep cool and do the best thing that can be done every
minute. Just now, Ned says, the best thing is to drift with the tide, so
we'll drift, and wait, and keep our wits about us so as to see any
chance that offers for doing better."
Jack spoke in a cheerful voice, and his tone of courage served to brace
his companions somewhat, but it was plain to all three that their
position was really one of great danger and uncertainty. It was Jack's
excellent habit, however, to grow strong and courageous in difficulty or
danger; he never allowed himself to become panic-stricken, or to do
foolish, frantic things.
"Jack," said Charley after a while, "I don't believe there's any whine
in you."
"I don't know," replied Jack; "I hope there isn't. What good would
whining do?"
An hour passed, and still the fog grew thicker. Another hour; the breeze
had ceased to blow, and the gray mist lay like a blanket over the water.
It seemed piled in thick layers, one on top of another. It was so dense
that it could be seen floating between one of the boys and another, like
smoke from a cigar. The boys could see its slow writhing and twisting in
the still air, moved as it was only by their breath, or by the
occasional movements of their bodies. It would have been impossible in
such a fog to see a ship twenty feet distant.
For still another hour and another the boys sat still in the boat,
rarely speaking or in any way breaking the awful silence of the
fog-bound solitude.
At last Ned bent his head down close to the gunwale to scan the surface
of the water.
"I see marsh grass here," he said, "but it is completely under water.
Watch for any that shows above the surface, and if you see any catch
hold of it and hold on."
The boys bent over, one on one side, the other on the other. Presently
the protruding tops of the tall marsh grass appeared above the water,
and seemed to float slowly by. Several times Jack and Charley caught
small bunches of it, but the impetus of the drifting boat was too great,
and the grass was pulled up from the muddy bottom. After a little while,
the water growing shallower, the grass showed higher above the surface,
while it increased also in quantity, impeding the motion of the boat.
Then each of the boys seized a bunch and the boat was brought to a
stand.
"There, that's better," said Ned, as the motion of the boat ceased.
"Why don't you want to drift?" asked Jack.
"Because it is about the turn of the tide," answered Ned, "and I don't
want to drift in the wrong direction."
"Then why didn't you cast anchor when you first saw from the grass that
we were in shallow water?"
"Because I don't want to be caught here on a marsh island if I can help
it."
"I don't understand," said Jack.
"Well, you see it is about high tide now, and we have drifted upon one
of the many mud banks covered with this marsh grass. Some of them are
covered with water at high tide, as this one is, but quite bare when
the tide is out. When I saw that we were drifting over one I wanted to
stop the boat, to avoid being carried back again toward the sea; but
we're in danger of getting left here high and dry on a mud bank when the
tide runs out, and that would be a bad fix to get into. So instead of
dropping anchor, we'll simply hold on by the grass, and as the tide goes
out we'll try to work off into deeper water."
"I see," said Jack.
"I wish I could, then," said Charley, who had recovered his spirits; "if
I could see I'd steer for Bluffton."
"Come, Charley," said Ned, "this is no joking matter, I can assure you.
It's growing quite dark now, and unless the fog lifts very soon we may
be stuck here in the mud, for the night at least; suppose you give her a
few stokes with the oars, boys; the tide is falling rapidly, and we must
get off this bank."
The boys rowed slowly, Ned steering and watching the water. It grew
steadily shallower, so he turned the boat about, convinced that the
direction he had taken was toward the centre of the bank, instead of
toward the deep water. He had not gone far in the new direction
however, before the keel scraped the mud, and another change had to be
made in the course. Still the keel scraped, in whatever direction he
turned.
"Pull away with all your might, boys!" he cried; "if we don't reach deep
water in five minutes we're stuck!"
Jack and Charley bent to their oars, and for a few minutes the boat
slipped forward through the tall marsh grass. But her keel was dragging
in the soft mud, and as the tide was rapidly running out, the boat sank
deeper every minute.
"Pull away, as hard as you can!" cried Ned, seeing that the speed was
rapidly growing less. "Here, you're exhausted, Jack; let me take your
oar. Now, Charley, give it to her!"
The oarsmen bent to their work with the strength of desperation, but the
keel was now completely buried in the mud, and the whole bottom of the
boat rested in the slimy ooze. Do what they would, the boys could drive
her no further.
"Stuck!" cried Jack.
"Yes, stuck, fairly stuck, and in for a night of it, fog or no fog,"
said Ned.
"What's to be done?" asked Charley.
"Nothing now, except go to sleep if we can. It's so cold and raw that
we'll find that pretty hard work. I wish we had brought a lot of moss
for blankets."
"But what if the fog lifts in the night?" asked Charley.
"Well, what if it does? We can do nothing now till the tide comes in
to-morrow morning. We're high and dry now, and the tide will continue to
run out until one or two o'clock to-night. Then it will turn, but we
shan't be afloat again till very nearly high tide,--say about seven or
eight o'clock to-morrow morning."
"Yes," said Jack, "and as we have eaten nearly nothing since morning,
and have nothing to eat till we get to Bluffton, we shall need all the
strength we can get from sleep. So let's sleep if we can."
Bestowing themselves as comfortably as they could, the three worn-out,
half-famished lads did their best to sleep; but there was very little
chance of that. No sooner had they ceased to exert themselves, than the
penetrating cold of the fog, which had already saturated their scanty
clothing, made them shiver and shake as with an ague fit.
They were obliged occasionally to go to the oars for exercise, in order
to keep their blood in circulation, and so there was no chance of any
thing like sleep beyond an occasional cat nap. Not long before dawn it
began to rain, and Ned, who had been dozing, suddenly sprang up, crying
out:
"What's that? Rain? Good!"
"Why, 'good'?" asked Charley, shivering; "I'm damp enough already."
"Good, because if it rains hard the fog will disappear."
"Why?"
"Because it will be converted into rain, and fall. A fog disappears
always either by rising and floating away, or by falling in the shape of
rain; and this one means to fall, I should say, if I may judge by the
way it is coming down now."
It had, indeed, begun to pour. The condition of the boys was thus
rendered still more uncomfortable than before, but at least their
prospects were brightened by way of compensation, and as the steady
downpour cleared the air of the dense fog, their spirits bounded up
again in spite of all the discomforts of their situation.
"I say, Jack," said Charley, "are you a prophet or a weather witch?"
"Neither, so far as I am informed," replied Jack; "why do you ask?"
"Only because I suspect that you either foresaw this fog or created it."
"I don't see the force of your suspicion," said Jack.
"Don't you remember how you croaked about slips between the cup and the
lip when Ned and I were so sure of getting to Bluffton?"
"Yes, of course; but I didn't really expect any thing of this nature. I
only spoke generally."
"Out of the abundance of your wisdom. But I won't make fun, for you were
right."
"And, besides," said Ned, "the situation just now isn't a bit funny.
There's a young river running down my back, and I'm in for a good
scolding from Maum Sally when I see her. She'll scold me for overstaying
my time, for wrecking the boat, for losing my boots, for spoiling my
clothes, and for every thing else she can think of. And yet, though
you'll hardly believe it, I heartily wish I could be sure of getting
that scolding very early this morning."