Stranded
"Looks something like a river, sir," remarked Hepburn, as the
unlovely waterside buildings at Reading were left astern, and the
_Olivette_ gained the broad reach where the Kennet joins the Thames.
"Looks are sometimes deceptive," rejoined Mr. Armitage, who was
standing behind Hepburn in the wheel-house. "There's a tricky spot
just beyond Sonning. I'll tell you where when we come to it. Because
a river's wide it doesn't necessarily mean that it's deep. Edge a
little over towards the tow-path."
Sonning was duly admired and left astern. At about a mile below the
far-famed lock the Scoutmaster renewed his caution.
"See that broad stretch ahead, Hepburn?" he asked. "That's shallow
water. The deep channel runs hard to port, passing those two little
islands on your starboard hand. Give her all the helm you can,
because the current's pretty strong."
As a precautionary measure Mr. Armitage told Roche to stand by the
reversing-lever. It was as well that he did so, for as the sharp bend
became visible Hepburn gave the _Olivette_ full starboard helm.
The boat responded, but the current setting hard against her
broadside was too strong for her. By the time she had turned the
requisite eight points her bows were on a line with the little
islands.
"Stop!" shouted Alan. "Full speed astern."
The _Olivette_ quivered under the reverse action of the propeller,
and gathered sternway so quickly that she was in danger of ramming
the right bank stern foremost.
Hepburn saw the possibility, and, knowing how unhandy the boat was
when going astern, ordered "easy ahead", at the same time putting
his helm hard to starboard in an attempt to turn the craft up-stream.
Almost before he was aware of it the _Olivette_ grounded. Carrying
way until her bows were well out of the water she rammed her nose
right between the two islands, swung round and listed heavily to
starboard. A shower of leaves, branches of trees, and brushwood
descended on her foredeck, as the wheel-house scraped violently
against the verdure with which the island was densely covered.
"Sorry, sir," exclaimed the thoroughly perturbed Hepburn.
"Can't be helped," replied Mr. Armitage calmly. "You did your best.
It was the current, combined with the slowness of helm, that let you
down. Now comes the job of getting off."
Mr. Murgatroyd, who on the impact had narrowly escaped being jerked
overboard, seemed delighted with the stranding. It was what he had
anticipated. It was, as he had written to Mr. Armitage, "having some
fun"--an episode without which, in his opinion, a cruise falls short
of being up to the amateur sailor's standard.
Armed with his camera, the owner jumped ashore.
[Illustration: THE SKIFF TAKES A ROPE ASHORE]
"Don't get her off yet, Armitage," he called out. "I don't want to be
marooned here, but I do want some photographs."
While Mr. Murgatroyd was securing photographic records of the
stranding of the _Olivette_, the Scoutmaster took stock of his
immediate surroundings.
The boat was hard against a snag, with her bows touching one island.
Amidships she bridged the very narrow channel between the two islands
through which the current swirled strongly, while aft her starboard
quarter was within 6 feet of the second island. She was waterborne
aft, since the rudder was quite free, but her bows were a good 18
inches above the normal water-line. In addition she had quite a bad
list.
"We're on pretty hard, Peter," declared the Scoutmaster.
"Won't she come off with the engine going full speed astern, sir?"
asked the Patrol-leader.
"We can but try--directly Mr. Murgatroyd comes on board," replied Mr.
Armitage. "The main trouble is that the level of the river is falling
steadily. Since those heavy rains a week ago there's been no rainfall
at all. The _Olivette_ may be here for a couple of months."
"Cheerful that," remarked Stratton. "We'll manage it somehow, sir,"
he added optimistically.
When at length the exuberant Mr. Murgatroyd returned on board,
preparations were made to extricate the _Olivette_ from her
ignominious position.
The four cylinders were brought into action, and the motor run first
at half speed and then full speed astern. Beyond a terrific vibration
nothing happened. The boat obstinately refused to leave her
unofficial shore-berth.
"Roll her!" ordered the Scoutmaster. "All hands!"
Everyone, except Roche who stood by the engine, ran from side to
side, but this expedient proved to be of no avail.
"If we could only run out the big warp to the other bank," suggested
Peter tentatively.
"Unfortunately we've no dinghy," commented Mr. Armitage. "We'll have
to wait until a boat comes along."
They waited a very long time. Already the sun was well down in the
north-western sky. Two more hours would see darkness closing down
upon the stranded craft. Even the hitherto hilarious Mr. Murgatroyd
began to show signs of anxiety.
"Couldn't I swim to the other bank with a light line, sir?" asked
Warkworth.
Mr. Armitage shook his head.
"You're a good swimmer, Warkworth," he replied, "but the current's
too strong. Even without the drag of a light line you would have
great difficulty in getting across. Hampered by a rope your chances
of success would be nil. We'll have to wait."
A few minutes later a pair-oared skiff, manned by four scouts, came
laboriously up stream. In reply to a hail from the _Olivette_ they
pulled alongside.
"Only too glad to help you, sir," replied one of the scouts. "My
word, you are on it."
At Mr. Armitage's suggestion two of the scouts came on board the
_Olivette_, and their places in the skiff were taken up by a heavy
coil of 4-inch grass rope.
Thrice the skiff essayed the task of crossing the river. Twice the
pull of the current against the floating grass-rope baulked the
efforts of the scouts, but the third time, by dint of pulling
obliquely against the stream, they established communication with the
right bank, and the warp was made fast to a tree trunk.
"Let's hope those fellows know how to bend a rope," soliloquized the
Scoutmaster, as the Sea Scouts began to heave taut on the small but
powerful winch. "And I hope there'll be no traffic along this branch
of the stream. If there is there'll be a good chance of a nasty
accident."
He regarded the rope with misgivings. It was sagging with the
tremendous rush of water in spite of the strain upon it.
At first foot by foot, and then inch by inch the warp came inboard,
until not another turn of the winch could be made.
"Now, full speed astern again," ordered Mr. Armitage.
"She's moving!" exclaimed Flemming.
"Not a bit of it," declared Stratton.
The Patrol-leader was right. The _Olivette_ showed no tendency to
disengage herself from the tenacious embraces of the island.
"I'm afraid it's no use keeping you fellows," said the Scoutmaster
addressing the four scouts. "If you are going up as far as Reading,
perhaps you might report our plight to one of the river-side yards."
The pair-oared skiff pushed off, and was soon lost to sight in a bend
of the river. It was now sunset.
"There's no reason why we should go hungry, even if we are hard and
fast aground," observed Mr. Murgatroyd. "I'm peckish, very; and I
guess you hard-working lads are too. Let's get some tea."
"I can hang on a bit longer, sir," declared Stratton. "One of us
ought to remain on deck to warn any boat that might foul our hawser.
I'll keep watch."
For about five minutes the Patrol-leader paced the deck. It was a
ticklish task owing to the vessel's list, so presently he sat down.
Below, his companions were talking briskly to the accompaniment of
the rattle of spoons, and cups and saucers.
Peter was thinking hard. It was ignominious, he decided, to run
aground and stop there until outside help arrived.
"I wonder if I shifted the lead of that rope?" he soliloquized.
"Better still, bend the smaller Manila to the grass-rope, and run it
through the for'ard fair-lead. I'll try it, and the others can bear a
hand after tea."
He set to work on the lines he had suggested, then, merely as an
experiment, he began heaving taut on the winch. How it happened he
could never explain. The engine wasn't running, yet directly the rope
took the strain the _Olivette_ glided easily from her prison.
"We're afloat, sir!" shouted Stratton gleefully.
The tea-party broke up hurriedly. Roche, Flemming, and Woodleigh,
rushed to restart the motor. The others scrambled on deck, except Mr.
Armitage, who made for the wheel-house.
He was just in time to put the helm hard over, otherwise the boat
would have bumped broadside on to the opposite bank, held as she was
by the grass-warp.
Aided by the engine going slowly ahead, the Sea Scouts hauled in and
coiled away the grass-warp until all but 30 feet was inboard. The
difficulty that confronted them was how to cast off the end from the
tree trunk. Even by running the boat's bows gently aground there was
too wide a space of water to leap over.
"We don't want to cut the rope," said the Patrol-leader tentatively.
"Now then, you budding Blondins; who's going to walk the tight-rope?"
There were no volunteers. The prospect of falling into the
swift-flowing river, even in a mere three feet of water, was not
sufficiently tempting.
"I'll get ashore somehow," said Hepburn, who, holding himself
responsible for the grounding, was anxious to "make good". "I'll use
the boat-hook stave as a leaping-pole."
"How will you get back?" asked Stratton.
"Walk along the tow-path and get on board at the next lock," replied
the resourceful Alan.
"Which will be Sonning," decided Mr. Armitage. "We know our way back,
but we don't know what's down stream. It's too risky in the dark.
Right-o; carry on, Alan."
The Sea Scout sounded with the boat-hook. The bottom was hard,
consequently there was no risk of the pole sinking in the mud under
his weight.
Hepburn had to make a standing start. There was no chance of a
running leap from the deck. Nevertheless he alighted gracefully on
the bank, and handed back the boat-hook.
"Too long for a walking-stick," he remarked facetiously. "'Sides, you
may need it, Peter, if one of you tumble into the ditch. All ready,
sir?"
"Cast off!" ordered Mr. Armitage.
The run back to Sonning Lock was accomplished without incident, and
by the time Hepburn rejoined the boat, Mr. Murgatroyd had gone ashore
and the evening meal was in course of preparation.
"Two days gone and only forty miles covered," commented Mr. Armitage.
"We'll have to do better than that to-morrow, lads."