A PORT IN A STORM.
"Washburn, you have a long head; can you make anything of the
situation, for I suppose you know all about it?" I asked, as I joined
the mate on the forecastle.
"I know what I have heard about the pilot-house and on the forecastle,"
replied Washburn.
"I have not been able to make anything out of it, so far," I continued.
"I can't believe that the captain of the Islander means to run away
with her. I don't believe this is a trial trip, as you suggested, for
the captain would not have come out into this fog on such an errand,"
added Washburn. "On the whole, I must believe it is a blunder on the
part of the captain of the consort. But I think we are not likely to
find out anything definite about the case until we overhaul the
Islander. All we have to do is to keep moving to the southward, and
keep a sharp lookout for the chase. It is useless to bother one's
brains over questions that cannot be answered."
"When I saw the Islander, she was well in shore," I added. "If she
takes a notion to come about, and run back to the St. Johns, we may
miss her."
"And she may drop into St. Augustine," said the mate.
"I don't see any reason why she should," I replied. "Captain Blastblow
knows that the party are bound up the Mississippi River. He knows the
Sylvania is, at any rate; and he would not have headed to the southward
if he had not intended to make the same trip, always supposing he has
misunderstood his instructions."
"By six o'clock to-night, if everything holds as it is, we ought to
overhaul the Islander, if we don't miss her in the fog, and Captain
Blastblow don't do any better in her than any one else has ever done,"
continued Washburn. "But the wind is freshening, Captain Alick."
"Yes; and the barometer indicates that we are to have a bad day of it,"
I replied, looking at the white caps that rolled up to windward of the
steamer.
The wind was gusty and savage. The steamer heeled well over to port
under the heavy press of sail we were carrying. But I did not care much
how hard it blew, if it would only carry off the fog, as I believed it
would do soon.
By half-past ten I found it necessary to take in the fore square-sail
and the fore top-gallant sail, for I was afraid the heavy weight of
canvas would strain the foremast. This relieved the steamer for a time;
but the wind had increased to a gale, and had hauled more to the
southward. Half an hour later we took in the fore topsail and the main
gaff-topsail, so that nothing but our fore and aft sails remained. The
log at eleven indicated that we were making twelve knots, and it was
about time for us to be up with St. Augustine light, but we could not
see it in the fog. Suddenly we heard a fog-horn on our starboard bow.
I rushed into the pilot-house and rang the gong. The engineer
immediately stopped the engine, and the roar of escaping steam
followed. I was afraid we might run down some of the small craft that
go in and out of St. Augustine.
"Sail, ho!" shouted Ben Bowman, on the top-gallant forecastle. "I see
her; she is a pilot-boat."
A moment later I saw a sail-boat, in which were three men. There was a
number on her sail, which indicated that she was a pilot-boat. She had
evidently heard our whistle, and had came out in the rough sea to take
us into St. Augustine, if we were bound into that port. I directed the
wheel man to port the helm, so as to throw the Sylvania up into the
wind under the stern of the pilot-boat.
"How came you up there, captain?" demanded one of the men in the boat,
and all of them looked amazed.
"We are bound to the southward, coming down from St. Johns bar," I
replied. "How does St. Augustine bear from here?"
"Due east," answered the spokesman of the trio.
"Look out for your reckoning, Washburn," I added, turning to the mate.
"Twenty minutes of twelve," added Washburn, consulting the chronometer.
"This is exactly where we ought to be at this time," and he made the
entry on the log-slate.
"Haven't you been over this course before to-day?" asked the spokesman
of the pilot.
"Not to-day," I answered, perceiving what it was that bewildered the
pilots. They had evidently seen the Islander, and supposed the
Sylvania was the same steamer.
"We came out here after a steamer we heard whistling in the fog,"
continued the speaker. "We got near enough to hail her; and if this is
not the same steamer, she is as near like the other as one pea is like
another."
"She is the twin sister of this vessel. Did you see who was on board of
her?" I inquired.
"I saw no one but the captain, and he said he was bound south, and was
not going into St. Augustine."
"Did he tell you where he was bound?"
"He didn't say a word about it, but kept on his course."
"Good-day," I added, as I told Hop to ring the speed-bell.
We filled away again, and were soon going through the water at our
former speed. The pilot-boat was almost swamped in the heavy sea, and I
have no doubt her crew were a little out of sorts after coming out for
a vessel and getting nothing for their pains.
"That's good as far as it goes," said Washburn, when we were on our
course again. "We are sure now that the Islander has not gone into
port."
"And we are sure the Islander is not a great way ahead of us," I added.
"Just seven miles," replied the mate, glancing at the log-slate. "I
could stick a pin in the chart at exactly the point where she is."
"But it may be that Captain Blastblow has not blown his blast entirely
in vain, and may have been able to get more speed out of the Islander
than anybody else has," I suggested.
"But the pilots said she was only half an hour or so ahead of us. She
got off at least an hour ahead of us; and if we have not been gaining
on her, she ought to be about ten miles ahead," argued Washburn. I was
willing to accept his logic, for we had been over the reasoning times
enough to understand the case in precisely the same way.
"The fog is lifting, sir," reported the second engineer, who was doing
voluntary duty on the top-gallant forecastle.
This was agreeable news, and all hands directed their gaze to the point
where the Islander was believed to be. The gale was increasing in force
every moment. Though I had no fears for the safety of the vessel, I
knew how fearfully so small a steamer as the Sylvania leaped and rolled
in a heavy gale, and I was not a little concerned about the comfort of
my passengers. We had had a very thorough trial of her pitching and
rolling in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and I did not like to subject the
Shepards and the Tiffanys to any unnecessary discomfort.
"We are going to have a regular muzzler, Washburn," I said, after
glancing at the barometer again.
"There isn't any doubt about that," he replied, laughing. "I wish we
had no ladies on board."
"I was thinking of that myself, and I will go down into the cabin, and
talk the matter over with our passengers," I replied. "Of course if we
give up the chase of the Islander, we are not likely to come near her
again. But Colonel Shepard and his family may decide that question."
I left the pilot-house and went aft. Though we were but a few miles
from the land, there was a tremendous sea raging, and the Sylvania was
pitching violently. I went down into the cabin and found the passengers
trying to keep their places on the transoms. They were all exceedingly
good-natured about the situation. Owen was making jokes, and the young
ladies were laughing at them. Cobbington and Tom Sands had put the
guards on the table, and were doing what they could to prepare for
dinner.
"Why do you shake up the Sylvania so fiercely, Alick?" asked Owen.
"She is behaving very prettily just now; but I came down to tell you
that it is likely to blow, and kick up an uncomfortable sea," I
replied, looking at Mrs. Shepard, who seemed to be the most tried by
the situation.
"But I had an idea that it was blowing already," added Owen.
"So it is, in a mild way," I answered.
"If this is only in a mild way, what will it be when it blows harder?"
asked Mrs. Shepard, nervously.
"It will be worse than it is now," I replied.
"Do you think we are in any danger, Captain Alick," inquired the lady,
looking very anxiously into my face.
"I do not think we are in any danger," I added. "But it is going to
blow a great deal harder than it does now."
"What will it do then, Captain Alick?" asked Miss Edith.
"The Sylvania is small, and she will pitch and roll a great deal more
than she does now. Mr. Garningham has been in her during a very heavy
gale, and he can tell you something about it."
"She stands up straight, and rolls quite over, so that we shall all be
pitched against the ceiling of the cabin," added Owen, maliciously.
"Then she goes down under the brine, quite out of sight of any one
supposed to be on the top of the waves. The water may come down into
this cabin like a young Niagara."
"Then there must be very great danger," said Mrs. Shepard.
"No great danger, madam, but I fear you will be very uncomfortable," I
answered.
"But can't we stop till the weather is better?"
"We shall find no port it will be safe to enter in this weather,
madam," I replied. "If it were fine weather, we might run into Mosquito
Inlet; but that is seven hours' run from here."
"We shall all have our brains knocked out if we go on in this way,"
groaned Mrs. Shepard. "Can't you do something to make us more
comfortable, Captain Alick?"
"I can make you all quite comfortable in less than an hour," I
answered. "But our business just now is to overtake the Islander; and
if we delay the voyage we may never see her again."
"Plague on the Islander!" exclaimed the lady.
"I don't think there is any particular danger, ladies," interposed my
father. "It is altogether a matter of comfort."
"I don't want to have my brains knocked out," added Miss Edith.
"If we keep on we may know who has brains and who has not," laughed
Owen.
"I'm sure those who want to be thumped about in this manner haven't any
brains," continued Mrs. Shepard. "What can you do, Captain Alick?"
"We have just passed the entrance to St. Augustine harbor. We could run
back, and make a port there," I replied.
"Then do it, for mercy's sake," said the lady, as a heavy sea rolled
the steamer down to her gunwale.
"I should certainly have suggested doing so, if we had not been in
chase of the Islander."
"That need not make any difference, Captain Alick."
"The gale may last all night as well as all day, Alick," added my
father. "We are sailing for pleasure, and there is no pleasure in being
beaten about in this manner. I think you had better put about and get
us into smooth water."
I went on deck rather disappointed at the result of the conference, for
I was interested in the chase. I ordered the jib and mainsail to be
taken in, and the helm to be put down. The fog had lifted to the
northward and westward of us, so that I could see St. Augustine light
and the pilot-boat. We took up one of the pilots, and in less than half
an hour we were anchored under the lee of the town, where the water was
as smooth as that of a mill-pond.
Our party were not inclined to land, and we spent a pleasant afternoon
on board, in spite of the storm. We could see that it was blowing
almost a hurricane outside, and were quite contented to be at anchor.