THE STORM
STRIKING the White Ensign and securing the guns the "Georgeos
Nikolaos" awaited the expected breeze. It was not long in coming.
Almost before the conflagration had burnt itself out in a succession
of popping sounds, the placid surface was rippled by cat's paws that
denoted something heavy behind it.
Heeling gently to the zephyr the felucca quickly gathered way and
soon left the scene of her initial exploit far astern. By degrees
the wind increased, until an extended milky-white wake gave evidence
of her speed, while the long tiller vibrated under the pressure of
the water against her rudder.
"Now she feels it, sir," remarked Mr. Gripper, as a squall struck
the felucca full on the beam, and the tautened weather-shrouds
twanged like harp-strings. "A thundering good job we know she's
sound alow and aloft, for we're in for a tidy old dusting. There's
something mighty heavy to windward," and he pointed to a bank of
indigo-coloured clouds, the rugged edges of which were tinged with
light grey and yellow hues.
"A couple of reefs in, don't you think?" asked the sub, raising his
voice in order to make himself heard above the howling of the wind.
"Just as well, sir," agreed the gunner. "Seeing that we aren't in a
hurry to get anywhere in particular we needn't run the risk of
carrying away any of the gear for the sake of cracking on."
"Hands shorten sail!" bawled the sub.
Reefing was performed by the cumbersome process of lowering the
heavy lateen yards on deck and rolling the foot of each sail
sufficiently to allow the second row of reef points to be secured.
The canvas was then rehoisted and sheeted home, but by this time the
wind had dropped entirely. The tiller was charging from side to side
under the severe buffeting of the waves against the useless rudder,
until Mr. Gripper ordered the relieving tackle to be rove in order
to prevent the helmsman's ribs being fractured by the flail-like
blows of the oaken tiller. Save for the shaking of the sails and the
clatter of the ropes and blocks against the mast a strange, almost
uncanny silence prevailed. The air was hot and oppressive, while
overhead the sky was overcast by a thick haze--the precursor of the
storm cloud to which the gunner had called attention.
"Mind your helm," cautioned Farrar. "We'll get it hard in a moment.
We don't want to be taken aback."
"There's no way on, sir," reported the quartermaster, who was
assisting the helmsman at the recalcitrant tiller. "She won't answer
to it."
Presently the ominous silence was torn by a shrill whistling
sound--the forerunner of the approaching squall.
"Stand by fore and main sheets!" shouted the sub, as, with a
sledge-hammer blow, the first of the storm burst upon the little
craft.
In spite of her draught the "Georgeos Nikolaos" lay right over on
her beam ends, the foam flying completely over her weather bulwarks,
while the surging water was knee-deep in her lee scuppers. Spars
groaned and creaked, ropes rattled against the masts like a round of
machine-gun fire; blocks crashed against metal and timber work to
the imminent danger of strops and sheaves, while on and below deck
everything not securely lashed down broke adrift and added to the
pandemonium.
For a few long-drawn seconds things looked black metaphorically and
literally. It was a question whether the felucca would either
capsize or be dismasted before she gathered way and answered to the
helm; but nobly the hardly pressed craft responded to the challenge
of the elements, and in a swelter of foam she threshed on her way
through the tempestuous seas. So heavy were the rain squalls that
at times it was impossible for the helmsman to discern the plunging
bows, while the deck was hidden by the falling and rebounding
hailstones.
"Hanged if I like that chunk of timber swaying aloft, sir!" bellowed
the warrant officer, pointing to the ponderous main lateen yard.
"She'll carry away her preventer back stays in a brace of shakes."
"We'll lower away the mainsail," decided Farrar. "She'll run
comfortably then."
It was easier said than done to send down that long yard and secure
it fore and aft. It took the united efforts of twenty men to master
the stiff canvas that even when the yard was on deck was flogging
and bellying out with the utmost fury, as if loath to submit to the
indignity of being pinioned by the gaskets. At last the task was
accomplished and the felucca, driving right before the gale,
certainly made better weather of it.
For the best part of six hours the little craft ran. Both the sub
and Mr. Gripper estimated her speed at eleven knots. At that rate
she would soon be on a lee shore off the island of Crete, where
harbours on the southern side are few and far between. The incessant
rain and the blackness of the sky prevented any possibility of
taking observations, and navigation became a matter of simple dead
reckoning.
Presently the wind dropped almost to a flat calm. The crested seas,
beaten down by the rain, subsided into long sullen rollers.
"Merely a lull," declared the warrant officer. "I've put in three
commissions up the Straits, and I ought to know a bit about the
weather by this time, or I'm a Dutchman. It'll veer and blow dead in
our teeth."
"Up helm and let her lay to on the port tack," ordered the sub, glad
to have the experience and resource of the warrant officer at his
disposal. He thrust back the sliding hatch of the companion and
glanced at an aneroid on the bulkhead. The barometer stood at
28.75", with a decided tendency to drop still lower.
"Wish to goodness we had fore and aft canvas instead of this unwieldy
tackle," he thought, as the fore yard rattled in the slings and
hammered against the raking mast with a succession of thuds that
shook the vessel from truck to keel. "However, it's no use wanting
what is not to be had. I'll have that foresail close reefed. If
Gripper was right, we'll have plenty of sea room. Hullo, Stevenson,
what is it now?"
This to the leading hand of the carpenter's crew, who had just come
up from below.
"Three feet of water in the forehold, sir," he reported. "Maybe some
of the gear's carried away and stove a plank, or else she's strained
her forefoot."
Hands were immediately ordered to the pumps, with the result that
the leak was soon got under control, but directly the wind piped up
again the influx of water was resumed. Evidently the hammering of
the sea had either started a plank or loosened some of her caulking,
necessitating constant work with the powerful semi-rotary pumps with
which the felucca had been supplied in lieu of the antiquated
gadgets previously fitted to get rid of the bilge water.
But Petty Officer Stevenson was a man of many parts--one of those
resourceful individuals whose value is not sufficiently appreciated
by the Powers that Be. Calling for a couple of hands to volunteer
for the hazardous work, he went below, and in the heaving, confined
space of the forehold, set to work to remove a number of the barrels
and chests at the immediate risk of being jammed between the heavy
articles as they jolted and slid with every movement of the vessel.
The sight of a steady stream of water rewarded his efforts. Betwixt
wind and water one of the planks had been "started," probably by the
impact of a piece of floating wreckage.
By means of a bit of tarred canvas with a backing of copper sheet
Stevenson succeeded in stopping the leak, short pieces of timber
being shored up between the ribs to make all secure, and at the end
of two hours' hard and exhausting work the three men returned on
deck, the petty officer making his satisfactory report as
nonchalantly as if he had just carried out some trivial routine.
Throughout the rest of the day and the whole of the ensuing night,
the "Georgeos Nikolaos" drove almost under bare poles, for sail had
been reduced to a close-reefed foresail. Not a craft of any
description had been sighted during the whole of that time. It was
quite possible that more than once the felucca was in imminent
danger of being run down by large steamers plying their way without
lights through the trackless wastes; reasonable even to assume that
she had sailed over U-boats that, to avoid the storm, were running
submerged at a depth of a hundred to one hundred and fifty feet.
More than once Farrar's thoughts flew to Billy Barcroft. He found
himself picturing the "Avenger," and wondering how she was faring
should the flying-boat happen to be caught out in the sudden storm.
Long afterwards the sub made the discovery that Barcroft was "up"
during the gale, and running serenely at a height of 8,000 feet, had
passed within a few miles of the "Georgeos Nikolaos," for the
"Avenger" was on her way to take up patrolling duties in the AEgean,
where U-boats had been somewhat too active of late.
At daybreak the gale moderated. The inky clouds were disappearing to
leeward, while the sun rising in a greyish mist betokened, in
conjunction with a steadier glass, the approach of better weather.
Still the sea ran high, the absence of rain causing the
white-crested tips to curl and break viciously.
For the first time for thirty hours Farrar went below to enjoy a
brief spell of welcome sleep. So dog-tired was he that he waited
only to draw off his sea-boots, discard his oilskin, hurriedly drink
a cup of cocoa and munch a couple of biscuits, than he threw himself
into his bunk "all standing," and was soon lost to the world.
It seemed that he had been asleep for less than two minutes when a
voice exclaimed,
"Large transport just torpedoed, sir; three miles on our starboard
bow."