PERILOUS HOURS
French Pete was uninjured from the fall overboard with the _Dazzler's_
mast; but the sea-anchor, which had gone with him, had not escaped so
easily. The gaff of the mainsail had been driven through it, and it
refused to work. The wreckage, thumping alongside, held the sloop in
a quartering slant to the seas--not so dangerous a position as it might
be, nor so safe, either. "Good-by, old-a _Dazzler_. Never no more you
wipe ze eye of ze wind. Never no more you kick your heels at ze crack
gentlemen-yachts."
So the captain lamented, standing in the cockpit and surveying the ruin
with wet eyes. Even Joe, who bore him great dislike, felt sorry for him
at this moment. A heavier blast of the wind caught the jagged crest of
a wave and hurled it upon the helpless craft.
"Can't we save her?" Joe spluttered.
'Frisco Kid shook his head.
"Nor the safe?"
"Impossible," he answered. "Could n't lay another boat alongside for a
United States mint. As it is, it 'll keep us guessing to save ourselves."
Another sea swept over them, and the skiff, which had long since been
swamped, dashed itself to pieces against the stern. Then the _Reindeer_
towered above them on a mountain of water. Joe caught himself half
shrinking back, for it seemed she would fall down squarely on top
of them; but the next instant she dropped into the gaping trough,
and they were looking down upon her far below. It was a striking
picture--one Joe was destined never to forget. The _Reindeer_ was
wallowing in the snow-white smother, her rails flush with the sea,
the water scudding across her deck in foaming cataracts. The air was
filled with flying spray, which made the scene appear hazy and unreal.
One of the men was clinging to the perilous after-deck and striving
to cast off the water-logged skiff. The boy, leaning far over the
cockpit-rail and holding on for dear life, was passing him a knife.
The second man stood at the wheel, putting it up with flying hands
and forcing the sloop to pay off. Beside him, his injured arm in a
sling, was Red Nelson, his sou'wester gone and his fair hair plastered
in wet, wind-blown ringlets about his face. His whole attitude breathed
indomitability, courage, strength. It seemed almost as though the divine
were blazing forth from him. Joe looked upon him in sudden awe, and,
realizing the enormous possibilities of the man, felt sorrow for the way
in which they had been wasted. A thief and a robber! In that flashing
moment Joe caught a glimpse of human truth, grasped at the mystery of
success and failure. Life threw back its curtains that he might read it
and understand. Of such stuff as Red Nelson were heroes made; but they
possessed wherein he lacked--the power of choice, the careful poise of
mind, the sober control of soul: in short, the very things his father
had so often "preached" to him about.
These were the thoughts which came to Joe in the flight of a second. Then
the _Reindeer_ swept skyward and hurtled across their bow to leeward on
the breast of a mighty billow.
"Ze wild man! ze wild man!" French Pete shrieked, watching her in
amazement. "He t'inks he can jibe! He will die! We will all die! He
must come about. Oh, ze fool, ze fool!"
But time was precious, and Red Nelson ventured the chance. At the right
moment he jibed the mainsail over and hauled back on the wind.
"Here she comes! Make ready to jump for it," 'Frisco Kid cried to Joe.
The _Reindeer_ dashed by their stern, heeling over till the cabin windows
were buried, and so close that it appeared she must run them down. But a
freak of the waters lurched the two crafts apart. Red Nelson, seeing that
the manoeuver had miscarried, instantly instituted another. Throwing the
helm hard up, the _Reindeer_ whirled on her heel, thus swinging her
overhanging main-boom closer to the _Dazzler_. French Pete was the
nearest, and the opportunity could last no longer than a second. Like
a cat he sprang, catching the foot-rope with both hands. Then the
_Reindeer_ forged ahead, dipping him into the sea at every plunge. But
he clung on, working inboard every time he emerged, till he dropped into
the cockpit as Red Nelson squared off to run down to leeward and repeat
the manoeuver.
"Your turn next," 'Frisco Kid said.
"No; yours," Joe replied.
"But I know more about the water," 'Frisco Kid insisted.
"And I can swim as well as you," the other retorted.
It would have been hard to forecast the outcome of this dispute; but,
as it was, the swift rush of events made any settlement needless. The
_Reindeer_ had jibed over and was plowing back at breakneck speed,
careening at such an angle that it seemed she must surely capsize. It
was a gallant sight. Just then the storm burst in all its fury, the
shouting wind flattening the ragged crests till they boiled. The
_Reindeer_ dipped from view behind an immense wave. The wave rolled
on, but the next moment, where the sloop had been, the boys noted with
startled eyes only the angry waters! Doubting, they looked a second time.
There was no _Reindeer_. They were alone on the torn crest of the ocean!
"God have mercy on their souls!" 'Frisco Kid said solemnly.
Joe was too horrified at the suddenness of the catastrophe to utter
a sound.
"Sailed her clean under, and, with the ballast she carried, went
straight to bottom," 'Frisco Kid gasped. Then, turning to their own
pressing need, he said: "Now we 've got to look out for ourselves.
The back of the storm broke in that puff, but the sea 'll kick up
worse yet as the wind eases down. Lend a hand and hang on with the
other. We 've got to get her head-on."
Together, knives in hand, they crawled forward to where the pounding
wreckage hampered the boat sorely. 'Frisco Kid took the lead in the
ticklish work, but Joe obeyed orders like a veteran. Every minute or
two the bow was swept by the sea, and they were pounded and buffeted
about like a pair of shuttlecocks. First the main portion of the
wreckage was securely fastened to the forward bitts; then, breathless
and gasping, more often under the water than out, they cut and hacked
at the tangle of halyards, sheets, stays, and tackles. The cockpit was
taking water rapidly, and it was a race between swamping and completing
the task. At last, however, everything stood clear save the lee rigging.
'Frisco Kid slashed the lanyards. The storm did the rest. The _Dazzler_
drifted swiftly to leeward of the wreckage till the strain on the line
fast to the forward bitts jerked her bow into place and she ducked dead
into the eye of the wind and sea.
Pausing only for a cheer at the success of their undertaking, the two lads
raced aft, where the cockpit was half full and the dunnage of the cabin
all afloat. With a couple of buckets procured from the stern lockers, they
proceeded to fling the water overboard. It was heartbreaking work, for
many a barrelful was flung back upon them again; but they persevered, and
when night fell the _Dazzler_, bobbing merrily at her sea-anchor, could
boast that her pumps sucked once more. As 'Frisco Kid had said, the
backbone of the storm was broken, though the wind had veered to the west,
where it still blew stiffly.
"If she holds," 'Frisco Kid said, referring to the breeze, "we 'll drift
to the California coast sometime to-morrow. Nothing to do now but wait."
They said little, oppressed by the loss of their comrades and overcome
with exhaustion, preferring to huddle against each other for the sake
of warmth and companionship. It was a miserable night, and they shivered
constantly from the cold. Nothing dry was to be obtained aboard, food,
blankets, everything being soaked with the salt water. Sometimes they
dozed; but these intervals were short and harassing, for it seemed each
took turn in waking with such sudden starts as to rouse the other.
At last day broke, and they looked about. Wind and sea had dropped
considerably, and there was no question as to the safety of the
_Dazzler_. The coast was nearer than they had expected, its cliffs
showing dark and forbidding in the gray of dawn. But with the rising
of the sun they could see the yellow beaches, flanked by the white
surf, and beyond--it seemed too good to be true--the clustering houses
and smoking chimneys of a town.
"Santa Cruz!" 'Frisco Kid cried, "and no chance of being wrecked in
the surf!"
"Then the safe _is_ safe?" Joe queried.
"Safe! I should say so. It ain't much of a sheltered harbor for large
vessels, but with this breeze we 'll run right up the mouth of the
San Lorenzo River. Then there 's a little lake like, and a boat-house.
Water smooth as glass and hardly over your head. You see, I was down
here once before, with Red Nelson. Come on. We 'll be in in time for
breakfast."
Bringing to light some spare coils of rope from the lockers, he put a
clove-hitch on the standing part of the sea-anchor hawser, and carried
the new running-line aft, making it fast to the stern bitts. Then he
cast off from the forward bitts. The _Dazzler_ swung off into the trough,
completed the evolution, and pointed her nose toward shore. A couple of
spare oars from below, and as many water-soaked blankets, sufficed to
make a jury-mast and sail. When this was in place, Joe cast loose from
the wreckage, which was now towing astern, while 'Frisco Kid took the
tiller.