Drifted to Sea.--A Perilous Position.--Rescue.
The next day Bell went off to Yarmouth to sell some of the fowl in the
market, and unfortunately got fuddled, so that when the evening came he
was unable to accompany the shooters. Frank and Jimmy resolved to go out
by themselves. Making a mistake as to the time of the tide, they found
themselves carried swiftly down Breydon Water on a tide which had yet
four hours to ebb. The night was clear, cold, and starlit, with a
stinging north-easter sweeping over the broad water, and whisking the
snow on the land into fantastic drifts. The new moon had not yet risen,
but every star was blazing brightly, and glimmering reflections shone in
the water. As they listened they found that the night was full of
strange noises, of quackings and whistlings, and that the air was cleft
by the sweep of wings. It was a night of nights for a wild-fowl shooter,
and the boys resolved to stop at Yarmouth until the tide turned. As they
neared the twinkling lights of the town a flock of wild geese took wing,
out of shot, and made for the estuary.
"Oh, do let us follow them, they are sure to alight before they reach
the bar," said Frank.
"Very well; but we must take care not to drift out to sea."
"There is no danger of that, we can always run ashore."
So they passed by the quays and fish-wharves, and one by one the lights
opened out, and passed behind them, resolving themselves into a cluster
in the distance. Ghostly vessels lifted their tall spars against the
sky, the water became more 'lumpy,' and prudence suggested that they
should turn back; but the love of sport urged them on, and triumphed.
Further still: yet the geese were nowhere to be seen, and not very far
off was the white water on the bar. They were fast drifting out to sea,
and thought it time to turn. They did so, but could make no headway
against the wind and tide, and the shores were so white with surf that
it would have been folly to have attempted to land.
"I say, Frank, we've done it now," said Jimmy, as they drifted nearer
and nearer to the bar.
"Don't be alarmed: we are all right," said Frank,--but privately he
thought they were in a very awkward fix. All the outward-bound vessels,
which, had it been earlier, might have picked them up, had left at the
commencement of the ebb. The punt was now in the midst of the rougher
waves which broke over the banks of sand at the mouth of the estuary,
and they were expecting every moment to be swamped, when Frank uttered a
cry of joy, and seizing the paddle, made for a black spot which was
dancing about in the foam. It was a buoy, and Jimmy seized the
'painter,' and stood up. As they neared it, a wave bore them on its
summit within reach. Jimmy succeeded in slipping the rope through the
ring on the top of the buoy, and in another moment they had swung under
its lee. They were now safe from drifting farther out to sea, but in
imminent danger of being swamped, and the time seemed very long while
waiting for the tide to turn. The curling waves continually broke over
them, and had it not been for the decked portions of the punt they would
have been sunk by the first two or three duckings. As it was, they were
kept hard at work baling with a tin scoop belonging to the punt, and
fending off from the buoy.
Forwards and backwards, up and down and sideways, they were tossed. A
great black wall of water, with a thin crest through which the glimmer
of a star could occasionally be seen, would come surging along, making
their hearts sink with apprehension, and then would sometimes break and
die away close by, sometimes dash them against the buoy, and sometimes
with a side chop nearly fill the punt. There was a dash of excitement
about it all which made it not absolutely unpleasant, as long as the sky
remained clear and they could see the stars, which seemed to laugh at
their puny battle with the elements. But by and by the stars began to
disappear in the direction of the wind, and finally were blotted out
over the whole heavens by a huge pall of cloud, and the darkness became
awfully oppressive. The wind dropped, and its roar subsided into a low
moaning sound. They felt the cold intensely as the snow came down
quickly and silently, covering them with a white coating. A black
cormorant suddenly appeared hovering over them, to be driven away with
the paddle, and they could hear the swoop of gulls about them.
"We are not quite food for the birds yet; but I can't stand this much
longer," said Jimmy, his teeth chattering with the cold.
"Hold up, old man. The tide will turn in half an hour."
There was the sound of a sudden snap. The rope had parted, and a
receding wave bore them away, leaving a rapidly widening distance
between them and the buoy.
"Keep her head to the waves," said Frank, "or we shall be upset."
At this critical moment the sky cleared in one patch, and against it
they saw the outlines of the dark, square sails of a schooner. The boys
hailed her long and loud, and in answer came the hoarse cry, "Where
away?"
"Here, on your weather bow. Fling us a rope!"
In a few minutes they and their punt were safe on board, and in another
hour they were in an hotel at Yarmouth, dressed in borrowed suits of
clothes, and enjoying a hot supper.
After this, and when their own clothes were dried by the kitchen fire,
they walked back to the Berney Arms by road, reached the yacht about
three o'clock in the morning, to the great relief of Dick, who had been
very anxious at their protracted absence.
The next day they sailed down to Yarmouth in the _Swan_, picked up the
punt, and went up the Bure with sheets eased out and a following wind.