At two o'clock on a Friday morning toward the end of August Spurling and
Whittington started with six tubs of trawl, baited with salted herring,
for Clay Bank. Long before sunrise the last fathom of ground-line had
gone overboard and the tubs were empty.
Swinging the _Barracouta_ about, they retraced their course to the first
buoy.
A long, oily ocean swell, heaving in from the south, undulated the
breezeless sea. The air was mild, almost suspiciously so. Dawn was
breaking redly as they reached their starting-point and prepared to pull
in the trawl.
"I'll haul the first half, Perce," volunteered Spurling.
Drawing the dory alongside, he cast off her painter and sprang aboard.
Before taking in the buoy he stood for a half-minute, scanning sky and
sea.
"Almost too fine!" he remarked. "I don't like that crimson east. You
remember how the rhyme goes:
"A red sky in the morning,
Sailors take warning.
Looks to me like a weather-breeder. Those swells remind me of a lazy,
good-natured, purring tiger. You wouldn't think they'd swamp a toy
boat; but let the wind blow over 'em a few hours and it's an entirely
different matter. Still, I don't think we'll see any really bad weather
before midnight at the earliest. Guess we'd better plan not to set
to-morrow."
He was soon unhooking hake and coiling the trawl into its tub. Percy
kept the _Barracouta_ close by. At the middle buoy he relieved Spurling
in the dory. The set yielded over two thousand pounds of fish,
principally good-sized hake.
"Very fair morning's work," said Spurling. "We'll leave that last load
in the dory. Now for home!"
Soon the sloop was heading for Tarpaulin, the weighted dory towing
behind. They were almost up to Brimstone Point when, with a final
explosion, the engine stopped. Spurling gave an exclamation of mingled
disgust and relief.
"Something's broken! Well, we're lucky it didn't give way five miles
back. It'd have been a tough job to warp her in so far, with a white-ash
breeze. Cast off that dory, Perce!"
As Percy pulled the smaller craft alongside the distant quick-fire of an
approaching engine fell upon his ears. He glanced quickly toward the
northeast.
"No blisters for us this morning!" he shouted. "Here comes Captain Ben
in the _Calista!_ He'll tow us in."
Presently the lobster-smack was alongside, and soon the _Calista_, with
sloop and dory in tow, was heading for Sprowl's Cove. Jim and Percy had
left their boat and come on board the smack. They noticed that Higgins
seemed unusually serious.
"What's the matter, Cap?" inquired Spurling. "Any trouble with
lobsters?"
"No," replied the captain, soberly, "there's no trouble with lobsters,
so far as I know. Haven't met with any losses to speak of, and I'm
paying twenty-five cents a pound. But something's happened to a friend
of yours. Remember that stranger who made you a call a couple of weeks
ago?"
"Sure! What about him?"
"Well, coming across from Swan's Island yesterday afternoon, I nearly
ran over a boat, bottom up, close to Griffin Ledge. I managed to spell
out the name on her stem; it was the old _Helen_. Thorpe had made his
sheet fast once too often, as I've always said he would. So he's gone,
dog, cats, and the whole shooting-match. I cruised about for a while to
see if I could find anything, but it wasn't any use; the tide runs over
those ledges like a river. The old fellow had a good streak in him, and
I'm all-fired sorry he had to go that way. It only shows what rum can do
for a man, if you give it a fair chance."
The tragic news had a sobering effect upon the boys. Percy, in
particular, remembering the habits of certain of his friends, took the
story to heart. Nobody said anything more until they were inside the
cove and running toward the lobster-car. Budge and Throppy saw them
coming and rowed out in the pea-pod.
While the lobsters were being dipped aboard the smack and weighed,
Spurling tinkered the _Barracouta's_ engine. At last he discovered the
cause of the breakdown.
"Broken piston-rod!" he exclaimed. "That means a trip to Matinicus. And
we've got to go right away, so we can get back before night ahead of the
storm that's coming. We must fix that engine, or we may lose two or
three days' good fishing, after the sea smooths down. Perce, you and
I'll go in the dory. You other fellows'll have to dress those hake alone
this time."
"I'll tow you across, Jimmy," offered Higgins. "But it looks a bit
smurry to me. I think there may be a norther coming; and you wouldn't
want to get caught out in that. Remember what happened to Bill Carlin!"
"I know," answered Spurling. "But that engine's no good without a
piston-rod. I was born in a dory. Besides, if it should blow too hard,
we can stop on Wooden Ball or Seal Island."
A few minutes later the _Calista_, with Jim and Percy aboard and the
dory in tow, was moving away from Tarpaulin. An easy run of two hours
brought them to Matinicus. Higgins dropped his anchor in the outer
harbor near Wheaton's Island, and the boys rowed ashore in their dory,
landing in the head of the little cove near the fish-wharf.
Percy made a few necessary purchases at the store while Jim attended to
the piston-rod. A half-hour later they were pushing off the dory, ready
for their long row back. The sky was hazy and the sea calm. In the outer
harbor Captain Ben hailed them from the _Calista_.
"Be good to yourselves, boys, and don't risk too much. You won't have
any trouble getting to Seal Island; if it looks bad, you'd better hang
up there with Pliny Ferguson. He'll be glad of company at his shack for
the next two days; for, unless I'm 'way off, there won't be many trawls
set or traps pulled until next Monday. I'm going to stick to Matinicus
till the blow is over."
It was still calm when they passed the Black Ledges and headed for the
northeast point of Wooden Ball. Jim was rowing, and the dory drove
easily onward under his powerful strokes.
Percy looked north. The mountains on the mainland had vanished, and even
the heights on Vinalhaven were being blotted out; but as yet not a
breath of air disturbed the glassy, undulating sea.
They were now only a few hundred feet north of the ledges on the
extremity of the Ball. The swell was breaking white against its
barnacled granite boulders in a long, crashing rumble.
"Let me spell you at the oars, Jim," said Percy.
"Don't care if you do! And pass that bag of hard bread forward! I feel
hungry enough to eat the whole of it. Wonder what Filippo'll have for
supper to-night!"
The boys had been in such a hurry to get away from Matinicus that they
had not taken time for any dinner; so both had keen appetites. Jim made
a hearty lunch on the crisp crackers. Percy's mouth watered as he swung
to and fro at the oars, facing his companion. Ten weeks ago he would
have disdained such plain fare; but now he could eat it with a relish.
His gristle was hardening into bone.
Four or five of the brittle disks satisfied Jim's hunger.
"Your turn now, Perce! Let me take her again!"
"Hadn't I better row a little longer?"
"No! I feel good for five miles. Those crackers put the strength into a
man."
Percy attacked the bag with an appetite equal to Jim's. Malcolm's Ledges
were near, breaking white half-way from the Ball to Seal Island. To
Percy's ears the roar of the surf sounded louder.
"Sea's making up a bit, isn't it, Jim?"
"Yes; but I don't think it'll amount to anything for a long time yet."
Down swept a squall from the north, roughening and darkening the water.
The dory careened a trifle as it smote her side.
"Well, Perce, we're more than a third of the way home. There's Brimstone
Point, eight miles ahead. We may see a little rough water before we get
there. Lucky you're not seasick nowadays!"
The squall passed, but left a steady breeze blowing in its wake. The sky
was gray, the sea leaden. The horizon all around seemed to be
contracting, and the familiar islands were losing their height.
They ran to leeward of the breaker on Gully Ledge, and passed into
smooth water under the protecting barrier of Seal Island. Pliny
Ferguson's shack was in plain view, and its owner came out and swung his
hand to them. Spurling remembered Captain Higgins's advice, and
hesitated.
"What do you say, Perce? I'll put it up to you. Shall we keep on or stop
here with Pliny? Seems to me there isn't the least doubt about our
reaching the island before dark; but I don't want to make you run any
needless risk. So I'll do as you say. Pliny'll be glad to make us
comfortable, and we can slip across after the gale is over."
Percy scanned the steep, desolate cliffs a half-mile to the north.
"What would you do if you were alone, Jim?"
"Make for Tarpaulin as fast as oars would take me."
"Then I say keep on!"
"Keep on it is, then," assented Spurling.
Shielded from the wind by the high shore, the dory sped on east by
south. The island was over a mile long. When they emerged from the
protection of the ledges on its eastern end they could see that the
breeze had increased in force. Up to windward in the direction of Isle
au Haut Bay occasional white-caps were breaking.
Spurling stopped rowing and took a long look around. Then he pulled off
his sweater, settled himself firmly on the thwart, and braced his heels
against the timber nailed across the bottom of the dory. His oar-blades
caught the water with a long, steady stroke.
"We'll head north of the island," he said to Percy, after a few minutes
of vigorous rowing. "The flood'll be running for the next three hours,
and that'd naturally set us toward the north; but before we get to
Tarpaulin the wind'll be blowing us the other way. We've got to allow
for both."
Fifteen minutes went by, thirty, a full hour. Little by little Seal
Island sank behind them and the familiar outlines of Tarpaulin loomed
clearer and higher. The increasing breeze, blowing against the ocean
current, kicked up a lively chop, on which the dory danced skittishly.
It took all Spurling's strength and skill to drive her onward.
At four o'clock they still had between four and five miles to go. The
sea was alive with white horses. As the boat fell into the trough Percy
momentarily lost sight of the island. He now recognized Spurling's
wisdom in heading so far north of their goal. But for that they would
inevitably have been blown off their course.
Jim was buckling to his task like a Trojan. Bare-headed, shirt open at
the neck, sleeves rolled up above his elbows, he swayed to and fro, a
tireless, human machine. His blades entered the rough sea cleanly and
came out on the feather. Admiringly, almost enviously, Percy watched the
play of the banded muscles on his brawny forearms. He would have given
anything to be as strong as his dory-mate.
Past five o'clock, and still over two miles to the island. It was
growing rougher every minute. The gale had fairly begun. It sheared the
crests off the racing billows and flung them over the boat in showers of
spray. Now and then a bucketful came aboard. It kept Percy busy bailing.
Occasionally Jim brought the dory head to the wind and lay on his oars
to rest. After all, human muscles, powerful as they may be, are not
steel and india-rubber.
"Pretty rough, isn't it?" said he, at one of these intervals. "Seasick,
old man? You look a little white around the gills."
Percy shook his head. The situation was too serious for seasickness. In
spite of the jocularity of his words, Jim's voice sounded hollow. Both
of them knew that it meant a hard fight to reach Tarpaulin.
Silence, gray and leaden as the misty sky, settled over the dory.
Spurling was throwing all the strength he possessed into every stroke;
Percy bailed continuously. It took considerably more than an hour to
make the next mile and a half. A rainy haze, driving down from the
north, had shrouded the island, and Brimstone Point was barely visible.
Jim's strokes were slower; they lacked their earlier force. His face
showed the strain of the last hour. Uneasily Percy noted these signs of
weariness.
"Tired, Jim?"
"Yes."
The brief monosyllable struck Percy with dismay. If Spurling's strength
should give out, what would happen to the dory?
"Don't you want me to row awhile?"
"You can take her for a few minutes."
Scrambling forward, Percy grasped the oars and took Jim's place on the
thwart. The latter lay down flat on his back in the bottom of the dory.
Apparently he was not far from complete exhaustion.
"Keep her up into the wind as well as you can," he directed.
Percy did his best; but he found it a hard job. The gale, now far
stronger than the tide that flowed against it under the surface, was
forcing them steadily southward. Brimstone Point could just be seen, a
half-mile to the northeast.
Though he pulled his heart out, Percy could tell that he was losing
ground, or rather water, every second. The wind mocked his efforts. He
could not keep the boat on her course. Big rollers swashed against the
port bow and broke aboard. Jim raised a drenched face, haggard with
weariness, and took in the situation.
"Harder, Perce!" he urged. "Hold her up till I can get my breath. It's
the ocean for us to-night, if we don't hit Brimstone."
Spurred by this exhortation, Percy jerked at the oars savagely and
unskilfully. As he swayed back there was a sharp snap, and the starboard
oar broke squarely, just above the blade.
Round swung the dory, head to the south. Up started Spurling with a cry
of alarm, his fatigue forgotten.
"You've done it now!"
Wrenching the port oar from his horrified mate, he sprang aft, dropped
it in the notch on the stern, headed the boat once more for the island,
and began sculling with all his might.
It was a hopeless attempt. However strong he might be, no man with only
one oar could make headway into the teeth of such a gale. For a time his
desperate efforts held the dory in her place. Then little by little she
began to go astern.
With sinking heart Percy watched Spurling's shoulders rack and twist as
he threw his last ounce into his sculling. By degrees his motions became
slower and more painful. Suddenly he pulled in the oar and dropped it
clattering aboard.
"No use!" he groaned as he toppled backward and collapsed in the bottom
of the dory.