Good Luck in Disguise
The sorry repast over, the crew repaired on deck. Headsails were
trimmed, and once more the _Spindrift_ heeled to the freshening
breeze. Godrevy Island and its lighthouse were presently abeam, and
the expanse of St. Ives Bay lay ahead.
"Clinking breeze, isn't it, sir?" remarked Desmond.
"M'yes," admitted the Scoutmaster.
The Patrol Leader glanced inquiringly at him. The none too emphatic
affirmative needed some explanation.
"This wind," continued Mr. Graham, "is rather bad for the tidal
harbour of St. Ives. It may send in a nasty lop unless it pipes down
before night."
Mr. Graham was particularly anxious to put into St. Ives, as it was a
good port of departure for rounding Land's End, or "The Land" as it
is described by seamen. But, with the wind east or nor'-east, the
anchorage was undesirable, although there was little danger. An
alternative was Hayle, where a safe but congested anchorage was to be
found, but that meant considerable delay and increased distance for
the next day's run. A high and steady glass decided the point; Mr.
Graham made up his mind to make St. Ives.
Shortening sail, the _Spindrift_ passed the end of the partly
demolished breakwater and rounded-to. In ordinary circumstances it
would have been possible to run out a warp to an iron post ashore and
a stern line to one of the buoys; but such a course was now
impracticable. The tidal harbour was so full of fishing craft that no
post or buoy was available.
"We'll have to anchor, lads," he exclaimed. "Stream the buoy--clove
hitch on the crown, there Jock. Let go!"
The wind was dying down, and there was only a slight roll. The
picturesque little harbour took the Sea Scouts' fancy immensely. They
were all eager to go ashore.
"Can't we have a meal in the town, sir?" inquired Hayes artlessly.
"If we had it on board we might have to swallow another peck of
cement."
"All right!" agreed Mr. Graham. "See that there's nothing loose on
deck."
"Are there thieves about?" asked Findlay.
"No, I'm not thinking of that," replied the Scoutmaster, "otherwise
one of us would have to remain on board. As a rule it's quite safe to
leave anything about in these Cornish ports. The people are quite
different from those of certain Thames Estuary places, where you
daren't leave the slightest thing of value and expect to find it in
the morning. No; what I'm thinking of is that the _Spindrift_ may lie
over a bit when the tide leaves her, and things on deck may roll
off."
Ten minutes later the crew of the _Spindrift_ were exploring the
crooked, narrow, and picturesque streets of old St. Ives, built on a
narrow neck of rocky ground called, for some inexplicable reason, The
Island. There they inquired for the post office, for Mr. Graham had
arranged to pick up letters at St. Ives.
There was a goodly budget, all hands receiving three or more
missives. One was from Patrol Leader Bradley, of the 9th Southend
Troop, who was one of the lads who had arranged to join the guardship
at Wootton.
"DEAR SIR" (it ran),
"Johns, Dexter, Phillips, Wenlock, and I arrived
here yesterday. We think it a top-hole place, but we wish we were
with you on the yacht. There's not much news. Bedford cut himself
last night, and this morning Coles fell overboard.
"Yours truly,
"WILL BRADLEY,
"P. L. 9th S. on S. Sea Scouts."
Another letter was from Tenderfoot Coles:
"DEAR SIR,
"We hope you are having a good time on the _Spindrift_. I
hope to have a telegram from you telling Bedford and me to come to
Plymouth as soon as possible. The other fellows came here
yesterday, so we are pretty lively. I've just fallen overboard. A
rope parted as I was hauling up the dinghy. There was no tide
running, so I swam to the gangway, and Dexter hauled me up. I've
changed and now I'm quite all right. Bedford cut his little finger
with a tin-opener. It's not much. Phillips and I bound it up, and
this morning it is almost healed.
"Yours Sea-scoutingly,
"EDWARD COLES."
"Two youngsters write about the same incident," thought Mr. Graham.
"One omits the most important part--how the accidents occurred and
how they resulted. The other gives just the necessary details and no
more. Coles will, I fancy, turn out to be a better Patrol Leader than
Bradley is. One is practical, and the other is unimaginative. Bradley
is a worker, but he has no initiative."
After a long walk along the cliffs, the Sea Scouts returned to the
harbour to find the _Spindrift_ lying high and dry, and with a
pronounced list to starboard. Fortunately, she was fairly
flat-floored and had been fitted with bilge-keels, so there was no
cause for anxiety on the score of her not lifting to the rising tide.
Taking off shoes and stockings, the crew dragged their dinghy over
the sandy bed of the harbour until they were close enough to secure
the painter to the yacht's bumkin. Then, scrambling on board, they
made the best of a bad job until the rising tide brought the
_Spindrift_ to an even keel.
It was now ten o'clock. Assuming that the tide would be half an hour
later on the morrow, Mr. Graham announced that he hoped to get under
way sharp at eleven.
"And have a good night's rest, lads," he added. "To-morrow's cruise
will be the heaviest of the lot, I fancy. We may not make Penzance
until after dark."
The lads had a fairly restful night, but at five in the morning those
sleeping in the bunks on the port side were summarily evicted by the
_Spindrift_ heeling well over as the tide left her. Findlay and
Hayes, being on the starboard side, slept on, sublimely unconscious
of their companions' discomfort, until Desmond slackened off their
cot-lashings and tumbled them unceremoniously upon the floor.
They had breakfast in undignified postures, sitting on the rise of
the starboard bunk with their feet propped against the panelling of
the cabin. To the happy-go-lucky Sea Scouts it was part of the game.
They made light of their discomforts, and of a heavy and substantial
meal at the same time.
A trip ashore, performed almost dryshod on the bed of the harbour,
occupied a part of the time before the _Spindrift_ lifted. Then, as
the tide rose and the angle of the yacht's deck became less and less,
all hands set to work to prepare the vessel for sea.
At last she was afloat. With a light nor'-westerly breeze sweeping
down over The Island the canvas was set and the cable hove short.
Already the bilge had been pumped dry. The yacht had almost "taken
up", and the pump now acted admirably, thereby compensating in a
measure for Findlay's lavish use of powdered Portland cement.
"All ready?" shouted Desmond, who had charge of the yacht during this
stage of the proceedings. "Cant her off on the starboard tack, Jock.
Up with the anchor, Hayes, smartly now!"
The _Spindrift_ heeled as Findlay hauled the staysail sheet
a-weather. Hayes at the winch plied the lever vigorously. At first
the cable came home quickly, then the strain became greater and
greater until Hayes was unable to move the winch lever another inch.
"Up with it, Hayes," yelled the Patrol Leader.
"Can't," was the laconic response.
Quickly belaying the staysail sheet, Findlay went to his chum's
assistance. Another half a dozen links came home, and then the cable
remained rigid and immovable.
"Anchor's foul of something, sir!" reported Findlay breathlessly.
"Carry on!" was the Scoutmaster's only rejoinder.
The Sea Scouts knew the meaning of that "Carry on". It meant that
they were on their mettle. They had to extricate the anchor by their
own devices. The first thing they did was to secure the anchor-trig
and haul on the trip-line. The latter was unequal to the strain. It
parted well below the surface. Not for the first time was a trip-line
a broken reed.
Then Desmond tried to break out the anchor by "sailing it out".
Telling Jock to pay out plenty of chain, he got way on the yacht,
first on one tack and then on the other. Every time the cable snubbed
violently, but still the stubborn anchor retained its hold.
It was now about time, thought Mr. Graham, that he had a look in.
Gaining experience was all very well when time was no object; but,
with a long day's run in front of him, the Scoutmaster realized that
every minute counted. Not only that, the tide was making rapidly, and
the deeper the water the more difficult would be the task of freeing
the fouled anchor.
Telling Findlay and Desmond to heave short, Mr. Graham went for'ard
with a long boat-hook and a coil of three-inch manila, one end of
which was bent to the anchor buoy. Sounding, the Scoutmaster
confirmed his suspicions: the anchor had caught in a heavy
ground-chain. His next step was to submerge the buoy with the
boat-hook until he could pass it under the bight of the chain. This
took a considerable amount of time and patience, but at length the
buoy reappeared on the surface, while the rope to which it was
attached had been passed under the chain itself. "Now we've settled
the problem!" exclaimed Mr. Graham. "Cast off the cable from the
wind, Findlay, and take a couple of turns with the rope. That's
right, now heave on the winch." The two Sea Scouts did so until the
three-inch manila was strained almost to breaking-point. They now
realized what the Scoutmaster was about. The strain on the rope
lifted the mooring chain clear of the ground. It now ought to be a
simple matter to shake the anchor clear, stow it on board, and ride
to the rope until it required to be slipped.
It was a simple operation in theory. In practice Mr. Graham had done
it successfully on several occasions, but this time the Scoutmaster
had the mortification of finding that his practical demonstration was
a failure. The anchor stubbornly refused to release its hold, and no
power available could raise the bight of the mooring chain above the
surface. For half an hour Mr. Graham persevered. By that time the
strain on the rope had brought the yacht's bows down a good eighteen
inches above her water-level.
"Slacken away, lads," he exclaimed. "We'll have to wait till low
tide. There's no sailing for us to-day."
During the afternoon, a heavy ground-swell set in, followed by a
gusty sou'-westerly wind. Consulting the barometer the Scoutmaster
found that the glass had dropped three points in less than a couple
of hours.
He no longer regretted that the _Spindrift_ had been compelled to
remain in port.
Presently the fishing-boats in St. Ives Bay came heading up for home
under close reefed canvas. A little later a couple of boats ran round
Fisherman's Reef with their mizzen sails set on their main-masts.
Their mainsails had been split to ribbons. They were followed by a
smack under jury-rig, her mast having parted five feet above the
deck.
The Scoutmaster was immensely relieved that the _Spindrift_ was not
off Land's End.
At low tide all hands went over the side to retrieve the fouled
anchor. One fluke had caught in a link, and the strain had forced it
in so far that it could only be released by heavy blows with a
hammer.
To prevent a repetition of the occurrence, the anchor was unshackled
and the cable passed under the ground chain and brought back on board
again.
"That will hold us all right," declared Findlay.
"My word, sir," said Hayes. "It would have been a bit rough outside,
wouldn't it?"
"They say--those fishermen over there," remarked Desmond, "that the
Sennen lifeboat had to go out to rescue the crew of a couple of
schooners. Where is Sennen, sir?"
"Close to Land's End," replied Mr. Graham, while in his heart he was
giving thanks to Providence that the _Spindrift_ and her crew were
not lying fathoms deep off the pitiless rocks of Cornwall.