AN ADVENTURE.
In August the annual outing, or, as it was called, the bean-feast, at
the works took place. Usually the men went in vans down into Epping
Forest; but this year it was determined that a steamer should be
engaged to take the whole party with their wives and families down to
Gravesend. They were to make an early start, and on arriving there all
were to do as they pleased until they assembled to dine in a pavilion
at one of the hotels. After this they were to go to the gardens and
amuse themselves there until the steamer started in the evening. The
party embarked at Blackwell at ten o'clock in the morning. George and
Bill got together up in the bow of the steamer, and were delighted
with their voyage down, their only regret being that Mrs. Andrews had
declined to accompany them, saying that she would far rather go with
them alone than with so large a party.
"What shall we do, Bill?" George said, when they landed. "We are not
to dine till two, so we have two good hours before us. I vote we hire
a boat and go out. It will be ten times as jolly here as up in that
crowded river by London."
This was said in reference to various short rows which they had had
in boats belonging to barges which had been sometimes lent them for
half an hour of an evening by a good-natured bargeman as they hung
about the wharves.
"I suppose you can row, young chaps?" the waterman, whom they hired
the boat of, said.
"Oh, yes, we can row!" George replied with the confidence of youth.
"Mind the tide is running out strong," the waterman said.
"All right, we will mind," George answered, scarce heeding his words;
and getting out the oars they pushed off.
For some little time they rowed among the anchored vessels, both being
especially filled with delight at the yachts moored opposite the
clubhouses. These were new craft to them, and the beauty and neatness
of everything struck them with surprise and admiration. Tide had only
turned a short time before they got into their boat, and while keeping
near the shore they had no difficulty in rowing against it.
Presently they determined to have a look at a fine East-Indiaman
moored well out in the stream a short distance below Gravesend. They
ceased rowing when they approached her, and sat idly on their oars
talking over the distant voyage on which she was probably about to
start, and the country she might visit, George was telling his
companion the ports she would touch if her destination was China, and
absorbed in their conversation they paid no attention to anything
else, until George gave a sudden exclamation.
"Good gracious, Bill! Why, the ship is ever so far behind. It is two
miles, I should think, from the town. We must set to work or we shan't
be back in time for dinner."
The boys' knowledge of the navigation of the Thames was not sufficient
to tell them that to row against tide it is necessary to keep close
inshore, and turning the boat's head they set to work to row back in
the middle of the river. Their knowledge of rowing was but slight, and
the mere operation of their oars took up all their attention. They
rowed away till their hands burned and the perspiration ran down their
faces.
After half an hour of this George looked round, thinking that he ought
to be near to the vessel by this time. He uttered an exclamation of
surprise and dismay. Neither the ship nor Gravesend were visible.
Their puny efforts had availed nothing against the sweeping tide. They
had already, without knowing it, swept round the turn in the river,
and were now entering Sea Reach.
"My goodness, Bill! what are we to do? Just look at that buoy; we are
going past it as fast as a horse could trot. Look what a width the
river is. What on earth are we to do?"
"I have no idea," Bill replied. "Where shall we go to if we go on like
this?"
"Right out to sea, I should think," George said. "I do not know how
far it is; but the river seems to get wider and wider in front."
"Perhaps," Bill suggested, "the tide will turn again and take us
back."
"Not it," George said. "It was against us, you know, all the way down,
and could only have turned a little while before we got in the boat.
Look at that line of barges sailing down on the right-hand side. I
vote we pull to them and ask the men what we had better do. Anyhow we
could row to the land and get out there and wait till tide turns. It
turned at about eleven, so that it will turn again somewhere about
five. The steamer is not to start till eight, so we shall be back in
plenty of time to catch it. We shall lose the dinner and the fun in
the gardens, but that can't be helped."
"That don't make no odds," Bill said cheerfully; "this is a regular
venture, this is; but I say, shan't we have to pay a lot for the
boat?"
"Yes," George assented mournfully; "but perhaps the man will let us
off cheap when he sees we couldn't help it. He looked a good-tempered
sort of chap. Come, let us set to work. Every minute it is taking us
further away."
They set steadily to work. The boat was a large and heavy one, and
their progress was by no means rapid.
"How thick it's getting!" George exclaimed suddenly.
"Aint it just!" Bill assented. "My eye, George, I can't see the
barges!"
Unobserved by them a fog had been steadily creeping up the river. They
were just at its edge when they made the discovery. Another two
minutes and it rolled thickly over them, and they could not see ten
yards away. They looked at each other in silent bewilderment.
"What's to be done, George?" Bill said at length in awe-struck tones.
"I don't know, Bill; I haven't an idea. It's no use rowing, that I
see, for we don't know which way the boat's head is pointing."
"Well, it can't be helped," Bill said philosophically. "I am going to
have a pipe. Oh, I say, aint my hands blistered!"
"All right, you can have your pipe, Bill, but keep your oar in your
hand to be ready to row."
"What for?" Bill demanded. "I thought you said it warn't no use
rowing!"
"No more it is, Bill; but we must look out for those big buoys. If the
tide were to sweep us against one of them we should capsize to a
certainty. That must have been a big steamer," he went on, as the boat
rolled suddenly. "It's lucky we were pretty well over towards the side
of the river, before the fog came on. Listen--there's another. I can
hear the beat of her engines. I have an idea, Bill!" he exclaimed
suddenly. "We know the steamers were passing to the left of us when
the fog came on. If we listen to their whistles and the sound of their
paddles, and then row to the right, we shall get to the bank at last."
"Yes, that's a good idea," Bill agreed, laying down the pipe he had
just lighted. "There's a whistle over there."
"Yes, and another the other way," George said, puzzled. "Why, how can
that be! Oh, I suppose one is coming up the river and one down, but
it's awfully confusing."
It was so, but by dint of listening intently the boys gained some idea
of the proper direction; but they could only row a few strokes at a
time, being obliged to stop continually to listen for fresh guidance.
Fortunately for them the fog lay low on the water, and the upper spars
of the steamers were above it, and men placed there were able to
direct those on deck as to their course. Had it not been for this the
steamers must all have anchored. As it was they proceeded slowly and
cautiously on their way, whistling freely to warn any small craft,
that might be hidden in the fog, of their coming.
Half an hour's rowing and the boys gave a simultaneous exclamation.
The boat had quietly grounded on the edge of a mud flat. They could
not see the bank, and had no idea how far distant it was. Bill at once
offered to get overboard and reconnoiter, but George would not hear of
it.
"You might not be able to find your way back, Bill, or you might sink
in the mud and not be able to get out again. No, we won't separate;
and, look here, we must keep the boat afloat just at the edge of the
mud. If we were to get left here we should not float again till tide
comes up to us, and that wouldn't be till about two hours before high
tide, and it won't be high, you know, until twelve o'clock at night."
"I wish this fog would clear off!" Bill said, looking round at the
wall of white vapor which surrounded them. "It regular confuses a
chap. I say, I expect they are just sitting down to dinner at present.
I feel awfully hungry."
"It's no use thinking about that, Bill. We shall be a good deal more
hungry before we are done; but I am so glad we have found the land and
stopped going out to sea that I don't mind being hungry."
"But I say, George, if this fog keeps on how are we to find our way
back to Gravesend?"
"The only way will be, Bill, to keep quite close to the edge of the
mud--just as close as the boat will swim. That way, you know, we must
come to Gravesend at last."
"So we must. I didn't think of that. You have got a good head, George,
you have. I should never have thought about the way to find the bank
if it hadn't been for you, and might have gone on floating and
floating till we was starved."
"This fog can't last forever, Bill."
"No, but I have known them last a week in London."
"Yes, but not in August, Bill."
"No, not in August," Bill assented; "but you see these here fogs may
last just as long down here in August as they do in London in
November."
"I don't think so, Bill. Anyhow it doesn't matter to us; we have got
the land for a guide, and I hope we shall be back in Gravesend before
it's quite dark."
"But if we don't, George?"
"Well, if we don't we must run her ashore before it gets too dark, and
wait till it is morning. We shall be all right if we keep quite cool
and use our senses. If we had something to eat I shouldn't mind a bit,
except that mother will be getting anxious about us. It's a regular
adventure, and we shall have something to talk about for a long time.
Look out, Bill, we must push her further off--she's getting aground!"
For an hour they sat and chatted.
"Hullo! what's that?" Bill exclaimed at last. "That's the rattle of a
chain. I expect it's a barge anchoring somewhere near. Listen; I can
hear voices. I vote we hollo."
George lifted up his voice in a lusty shout. The shout was repeated
not very far off, and was followed by the shout of "Who are you?"
"We have drifted down from Gravesend and lost our way," George
shouted back. "We will come on board if you will let us."
"All right!" the voice replied; "I will go on shouting and you row to
my voice."
It was but a hundred yards, and then a voice close at hand said
sharply:
"Row bow hard or you will be across the chain."
Bill rowed hard, and George, looking round, saw that they were close
to the bows of a barge. Half a dozen more strokes and they were
alongside. Bill seized a hand-rope and sprang onto the barge, and the
boat was soon towing astern.
"Well, young men, however did you manage to get here?" one of the
bargemen asked. "It's lucky for you you weren't taken out to sea with
the tide."
George related the history of their voyage and how they had managed to
reach the shore.
"Well, you are good-plucked uns anyhow," the man said; "aint they,
Jack? Most chaps your age would just have sat in the boat and howled,
and a good many longshoremen too. You have done the best thing you
could under the circumstances."
"Where are we?" George asked.
"You are on board the _Sarah and Jane_ topsail barge, that's where you
are, about three parts down Sea Reach. We know our way pretty well
even in a fog, but we agreed it was no use trying to find the Swashway
with it as thick as this, so we brought up."
"Where is the Swashway?" George asked.
"The Swashway is a channel where the barges go when they are making
for Sheerness. It's well buoyed out and easy enough to follow with the
help of Sheerness lights on a dark night; but these fogs are worse
than anything. It aint no use groping about for the buoy when you
can't see ten yards ahead, and you might find yourself high and dry on
the mud and have to wait till next tide. Mayhap this fog will clear
off before evening, and we shall be able to work in; and now I expect
you two young uns would like some grub. Come below."
The two boys joyfully followed into the little cabin, and were soon
satisfying their hunger on bread and cold meat. The bargee drew a jug
of water from the breaker and placed it before them.
"The fire has gone out," he said, "or I would give yer a cup of
tea--that's our tipple; we don't keep spirits on board the _Sarah and
Jane_. I like a drop on shore, but it aint stuff to have on a barge,
where you wants your senses handy at all times. And now what are you
thinking of doing?" he asked when the boys had finished.
"What we had made up our minds to do was to lie where we were at the
edge of the mud till tide turned, and then to keep as close to the
shore as we could until we got back to Gravesend. The steamer we came
by does not go back till late, and we thought we should be back by
that time."
"No, you wouldn't," the man said. "Out in the middle of the stream you
would be back in two hours easy, but not close inshore. The tide
don't help you much there, and half your time you are in eddies and
back-currents. No, you wouldn't be back in Gravesend by eight noway."
"Then what would you advise us to do?"
"Well, just at present I won't give no advice at all. We will see how
things are going after a bit. Now let's take a look round."
So saying he climbed the ladder to the deck, followed by the boys. The
white fog still shut the boat in like a curtain.
"What do you think of it, Jack?"
"Don't know," the other replied. "Thought just now there was a puff of
air coming down the river. I wish it would, or we shan't make
Sheerness to-night, much less Rochester. Yes, that's a puff sure
enough. You are in luck, young uns. Like enough in half an hour there
will be a brisk wind blowing, driving all this fog out to sea before
it."
Another and another puff came, and tiny ripples swept across the
oil-like face of the water.
"It's a-coming, sure enough," the bargeman said. "I'd bet a pot of
beer as the fog will have lifted in a quarter of an hour."
Stronger and stronger came the puffs of wind.
The fog seemed as if stirred by an invisible hand. It was no longer a
dull, uniform whitish-gray; dark shadows seemed to flit across it, and
sometimes the view of the water extended here and there.
"There's the shore!" Bill exclaimed suddenly, but ere George could
turn round to look it was gone again.
"I shall have the anchor up directly, lads. Now I tell you what will
be the best thing for you if the wind holds, as I expect it will. We
shall be at Sheerness in little over an hour--that will make it four
o'clock," he added, consulting his watch, "and the young flood will be
coming up soon afterwards, and I shall go up with the first of it to
Rochester. We shall get there maybe somewhere about seven o'clock. Now
the best thing I can do for you is to tow that ere boat up to
Rochester with me, and you can get a train there that will take you up
to town in goodish time."
"You are very kind," George said; "but what are we to do about the
boat?"
"I shall be going back to-morrow night, or more likely next morning,
and I will take her along and hand her over to her rightful owner at
Gravesend."
"James Kitson."
"Yes, I know him."
"But how about paying for it?" George said. "I am afraid he will
expect a great deal of money, for it has been away all the time, and
we have only got six shillings between us."
"You will want that to get up to town. Never mind about the boat. I
will put that square for you. I will tell Kitson as how you have been
shipwrecked, and he will think himself precious lucky in getting the
boat without being damaged. If I take the trouble to tow it up to
Rochester and back, he needn't grumble about getting no fare."
"I would rather pay something," George said; "though, you see, we
can't afford to pay much."
"Well, then, you send him a post-office order for five bob. I will
tell him you are going to send him that, and he will thank his stars
he has got so well out of it. If you had drifted out to sea, as he
expects you have by this time, and the boat didn't get smashed by a
steamer, you would likely enough have been taken off by one of them;
but the captain wouldn't have troubled himself about that old tub. I
looks upon Kitson as being in luck this job, so don't you worry about
him. There, the mist's driving off fast. We will up with the kedge."
The boys lent a hand at the windlass, and the anchor was soon hanging
from the bow. Then the brail of the mainsail was loosed, and the great
sail shaken out. The foresail was hoisted, and in a few minutes the
_Sarah and Jane_ was running before a brisk wind down Sea Reach.
The fog had rolled off now, and it was clear astern, though a thick
bank still hung over the river ahead, but this was rapidly melting
away; and the bargeman, who told them his name was Will Atkins,
pointed out a large building low down on the water ahead.
"That's Sheerness Fort," he said. "You can lend Jack a hand to get up
the topsail. The wind is rising every minute, and we shall soon be
bowling along hand over hand."
Both ahead and astern of them were a line of barges, which had, like
the _Sarah and Jane_, anchored when the fog was thickest, and were,
like her, making their way to Sheerness. The wind was blowing briskly
now, and the barge made her way through the water at a rate which
surprised the boys.
"I had no idea that barges sailed so fast," George said.
"There are not many craft can beat them," Atkins replied. "With a
breeze so strong that they can only just carry their topsails, they
will hold their own with pretty nigh anything afloat. There are mighty
few yachts can keep alongside us when we are doing our best."
As Atkins had predicted, in little over an hour they brought up just
inside the mouth of the Medway, and dropped the anchor to wait till
the tide turned to help them up to Rochester. At six o'clock they were
again under way. The wind had fortunately veered round somewhat to the
north of west, and they were able for the most part to lay their
course, so that soon after seven they were abreast of the dockyard,
and a few minutes later dropped anchor off Rochester.
"Jump into the boat, boys," the good-natured bargeman said; "I will
put you ashore at once. There is the station close to the end of the
bridge."
With many very hearty thanks for his kindness the lads jumped ashore
and hurried up to the station. They found that there would be a train
in half an hour, and by nine o'clock they arrived in town.
Before they had landed the bargeman had scrawled on a piece of paper,
"Your boat was picked up by the _Sarah and Jane_. Will bring her back
on return trip. No damage done. William Atkins." This he had handed to
the boys, and they now got an envelope and directed it to "James
Kitson, Waterman, Gravesend," and posted it, and then set out to walk
home.
"It's not been the sort of day we expected," George said; "but it's
been good fun, hasn't it?"
"Grand!" Bill agreed. "But I didn't think so when we were in the
middle of that fog listening to them whistles and trying to find out
the way. I didn't say much, George, but I felt downright funky."
"I didn't like it either, Bill. There was such a horribly lonely
feeling, lost in the fog there; but it was all right as soon as we
touched the mouth, and got an idea where we were. I was worrying most
about mother getting anxious if we did not get back to-night, and a
little about what we should have to pay for the boat. It was lucky
that bargeman took the matter in his hands for us. I expect we should
have had to pay over a pound. He was an awfully good fellow, wasn't
he?"
"I should just think he was," Bill said. "He was a good un, and no
mistake. It aint cost us so very much either, considering."
"That it hasn't, Bill. Two and threepence apiece railway fare, that's
four and sixpence, and five bob we are to send down for the boat, nine
shillings and sixpence. Well, we should have paid two shillings for
the boat anyhow, and I expect we should have spent another shilling
apiece in things at the gardens, perhaps more; that would make four
shillings anyhow, so we have only spent about five shillings more than
we calculated. And haven't we got a lot to talk about! It's been a
regular adventure."
"It has," Bill said doubtfully; "but I don't think I want many more of
them kind of adventures. It's all right now, you know, but it wasn't
jolly at the time. I always thought as adventures was jolly; but that
didn't seem to me to have no jolliness about it, not when we was out
there. It's all very well to hear tell of shipwrecks and fights with
savages, but I expect there aint no larks about it at the time. I
suppose you will send that five bob off to-morrow, and get it off your
mind?"
"No. Atkins said we had better not send it for another three or four
days. The man will have got his boat back all right then, and the five
bob would come upon him unexpectedly. He was going to tell Kitson that
he had arranged with us that was what we were to pay, as we couldn't
afford more; but he will never expect to get it, so when it comes he
will be only too glad to receive it."
They were met at the door of the house by Bob Grimstone, who was just
coming out.
"Why, what have you boys been up to?" he said angrily. "I have been
wondering all day what has become of you, and the missis has done
nothing but worry and fidget. It's regular spoilt the day. What have
you been up to? I haven't seen you since we got ashore at Gravesend,
and I have just come round to ask your mother if she has heard of
you."
"I am very sorry, Bob, but it wasn't our fault, at least it was not
altogether our fault. We went for a row, and the tide took us down,
and then the fog came on and we got lost."
"I expected better of you," Grimstone said angrily. "Foggy, indeed!
I've been anxious and worried all day. I did think as you warn't like
other boys, but could be trusted, and then you go and play such a
prank as this. Well, go in; your mother is in a nice taking about
you."
"My dear mother," George said as he ran in, "I am so sorry you have
been uneasy about us, awfully sorry; but really it hasn't been our
fault altogether."
"Never mind that now, George," Mrs. Andrews said, throwing her arms
round his neck. "Fortunately I did not know anything about it till Mr.
Grimstone came in a few minutes ago. I had been expecting you in for
some little time, but I supposed the steamer was late, and I was not
at all uneasy till Mr. Grimstone came in and said that he had not
seen either of you since the steamer got to Gravesend, and that you
had not come back with the rest. Is Bill with you?"
"Yes, mother; he is at the door talking to Bob."
"Ask Mr. Grimstone to come in again," Mrs. Andrews said. "He has been
most kind, and he had promised to go down to Gravesend by the first
train in the morning if you did not come home to-night, and to make
inquiries about you there. He tried to cheer me up by saying that as
you were together nothing could very well happen to you and that
probably you had only got into some boyish scrape--perhaps, he
suggested, only gone out into the country and had helped yourselves to
some apples, and had so got locked up."
Bob, however, would not come in again, but went off saying he would
hear all about it in the morning, but would go off to tell his wife at
once that they had returned safely, for "that she was in such a worry
as never was."
Hearing that the boys had had nothing to eat since two o'clock, Mrs.
Andrews at once laid the table for supper; and when they had finished
it listened to George's account of their adventure.
"You had a very narrow escape, boys," she said when they had finished.
"You might have been swept out to sea, or run down by a steamer in the
fog. I hope to-night that you will neither of you forget to thank God
for his protection through the danger you have run; and I do hope, my
dear boys, that you will be more careful in future."
The next evening, after work was over, George went in to Bob
Grimstone's and told them all that had happened. When the story was
told, Bob agreed that after all it was not altogether their fault, and
that, indeed, they had, in some respects, justified his opinion of
them. Mrs. Grimstone, however, was not so easily pacified. They had
come back, she said; but it was more than likely that they wouldn't
have come back at all, but might have been drifting out far at sea,
perhaps cutting each other's throats and eating each other alive,
which was, as the good woman said, what she had heard happened when
boats were lost at sea.
Two days later they sent off the money to the waterman, and received
in reply a letter from him saying that the boat had been brought
safely back by the _Sarah and Jane_ and that he was glad to get the
five shillings.
"Bill Atkins told me as you said you would send it; but knowing what
boys is, I say fair as I didn't expect to see the color of your money.
It aint everyone as would have paid up when they got safe away, and I
consider as you have behaved handsome."
They had heard from Atkins of the wharf off which the _Sarah and Jane_
might generally be found moored, between her cruises, and after one or
two ineffectual attempts they one day found the barge there when they
rowed up to the spot. She had but just returned from a trip to
Rochester and Bill Atkins was still on board. He was very glad to see
the boys, but they had great difficulty in persuading him to accept a
pound of tobacco which their mother had sent off to him with her
compliments as a token of gratitude for his kindness to them.
"Well, young chaps, I didn't look for nothing of the sort, but seeing
as your mother has got it for me it wouldn't be manners to say no.
Well, look here, any time as you are disposed for a sail down to
Rochester and back you're free of the _Sarah and Jane_, and heartily
glad shall I be to have you with me."
The boys thanked him for the offer, but said as they were still at
work there was but small chance of their being able to accept it, but
that they should be glad to come and have a chat with him sometimes
when he was in the Pool.