ROUGH WATER
As soon as they entered port, Dick and Jake went to the office of a
Spanish shipbroker, who offered them his polite sympathy.
"We had very little cargo here, and when he heard there was some dyewood
at San Ignacio the captain steamed off again," he explained.
"What sort of a port is San Ignacio, and how far is it?" Dick asked.
"It is an _aldea_ on the shore of a lagoon, with a wharf that small boats
can reach, about forty miles from here."
"Then they take the dyewood off in boats? If there is much of the stuff,
it would be a long job."
"That is so, señor. The boats can only reach the wharf when the tide is
high. At other times, the cargo must be carried down through the mud."
"Have you a large chart of this coast?"
The broker brought a chart and Dick studied it for some minutes, making
notes in his pocket-book. Then he looked up.
"Where can I get fresh water?"
The broker asked how much he wanted and after taking some paper money
gave him a ticket.
"There is a pipe on the wharf and when the peon sees the receipt he will
fill your tanks."
Dick thanked him and going out with Jake found their fireman asleep in a
wine-shop. They had some trouble in wakening the man and after sending
him off to get the water, ordered some wine. The room was dirty and
filled with flies, but the lattice shutters kept out the heat and they
found the shadow pleasant after the glare outside. Jake dropped into a
cane chair with a sigh of content. He felt cramped and stiff after the
long journey in the narrow cockpit of the plunging launch, and was
sensible of an enjoyable lassitude. It would be delightful to lounge
about in the shade after refreshing himself with two or three cool
drinks, but he had misgivings that this was not what Dick meant to do.
When he had drained a large glass of light, sweet wine, he felt
peacefully at ease, and resting his head on the chair-back closed his
eyes. After this he was conscious of nothing until Dick said: "It's not
worth while to go to sleep."
"Not worth while?" Jake grumbled drowsily. "I was awake all last night.
It's quiet and cool here and I can't stand for being broiled outside."
"I'm afraid you'll have to. We start as soon as Maccario has filled the
tank."
Jake roused himself with a jerk. Dick leaned forward wearily with his
elbow on the table, but he looked resolute.
"Then you haven't let up yet? You're going on to the lagoon?"
"Certainly," said Dick. "The Danish boat has an hour's start, but she
only steams eight or nine knots and it will take some time to load her
cargo."
"But we can't drive the launch hard. The breeze is knocking up the sea."
"We'll try," Dick answered, and Jake growled in protest. His dream of
rest and sleep, and perhaps some mildly exciting adventure when the
citizens came out in the cool of the evening, had been rudely banished.
Moreover, he had had another reason for being philosophical when he
thought his comrade baulked.
"It's a fool trick. She won't make it if the sea gets bad."
Dick smiled dryly. "We can turn back if we find her getting swamped. It
looks as if you were not very anxious to overtake Kenwardine."
"I'm not," Jake admitted. "If you're determined to go, I'm coming, but
I'd be glad of a good excuse for letting the matter drop."
Somewhat to his surprise, Dick gave him a sympathetic nod. "I know; I've
felt like that, but the thing can't be dropped. It's a hateful job, but
it must be finished now."
"Very well," Jake answered, getting up. "If we must go, the sooner we
start the better."
The launch looked very small and dirty when they looked down on her from
the wharf, and Jake noted how the surf broke upon the end of the
sheltering point. Its deep throbbing roar warned him what they might
expect when they reached open water, but he went down the steps and
helped Dick to tighten some bearing brasses, after which a peon threw
down their ropes and the screw began to rattle. With a few puffs of steam
from her funnel the launch moved away and presently met the broken swell
at the harbor mouth. Then her easy motion changed to a drunken lurch and
Jake gazed with misgivings at the white-topped seas ahead.
She went through the first comber's crest with her forefoot in the air
and the foam washing deep along the tilted deck, while the counter
vanished in a white upheaval. Then it swung up in turn, and frames and
planking shook as the engine ran away. This happened at short intervals
as she fought her way to windward in erratic jerks, while showers of
spray and cinders blew aft into the face of her crew.
Dick drove her out until the sea got longer and more regular, when he
turned and followed the coast, but the flashing blue and white rollers
were now on her beam and flung her to lee as they passed. Sometimes one
washed across her low counter, and sometimes her forward half was buried
in a tumultuous rush of foam. The pump was soon started and they kept it
going, but the water gathered in the crank-pit, where it was churned into
lather, and Jake and Maccario relieved each other at helping the pump
with a bucket. They were drenched and half blinded by the spray, but it
was obvious that their labor was needed and they persevered.
Stopping for breath now and then, with his back to the wind, Jake glanced
at the coast as the boat swung up with a sea. It made a hazy blur against
the brilliant sky, but his eyes were smarting and dazzled. There was a
confusing glitter all around him, and even the blue hollows they plunged
into were filled with a luminous glow. Still he thought they made
progress, though the launch was drifting to leeward fast, and he told
Dick, who headed her out a point or two.
"This is not the usual sea breeze; it's blowing really fresh," he said.
"Do you think it will drop at sundown?"
"I'm not sure," Dick replied, shading his eyes as he glanced at the
windward horizon.
"Then suppose it doesn't drop?"
"If the sea gets dangerous, we'll put the helm up and run for shelter."
"Where do you expect to find it?"
"I don't know," Dick admitted. "There are reefs and shoals along the
coast that we might get in behind."
Jake laughed. "Well, I guess this is a pretty rash adventure. You won't
turn back while you can see, and there are safer things than running for
a shoal you don't know, in the dark. However, there's a point one might
get a bearing from abeam and I'll try to fix our position. It might be
useful later."
Stooping beside the compass, he gazed at the hazy land across its card,
and then crept under the narrow foredeck with a chart. He felt the bows
sweep upwards, pause for a moment, and suddenly lurch down, but now the
sea was long and regular, the motion was rhythmic. Besides, the thud and
gurgle of water outside the boat's thin planks were soothing and
harmonized with the measured beat of the screw. Jake got drowsy and
although he had meant to take another bearing when he thought he could
double the angle, presently fell asleep.
It was getting dark when he awoke and crept into the cockpit. There was a
change in the motion, for the launch did not roll so much and the combers
no longer broke in showers of spray against her side. She swung up with a
swift but easy lift, the foam boiling high about her rail, and then
gently slid down into the trough. It was plain that she was running
before the wind, but Jake felt that he must pull himself together when he
looked aft, for there is something strangely daunting in a big following
sea. A high, white-topped ridge rolled up behind the craft, roaring as it
chased her, while a stream of spray blew from its curling crest. It hid
the rollers that came behind; there was nothing to be seen but a hill of
water, and Jake found it a relief to fix his eyes ahead. The backs of the
seas were smoother and less disturbing to watch as they faded into the
gathering dark. When the comber passed, he turned to Dick, who stood,
alert and highly strung, at the helm.
"You're heading for the land," he said. "What are you steering by?"
"I got the bearing of a point I thought I recognized on the chart before
I lost sight of the coast. There's a long reef outshore of it, with a
break near the point. If we can get through, we might find shelter."
"Suppose there's something wrong with your bearing, or you can't make
good your course?"
"Then there'll be trouble," Dick answered grimly. "We'll have the reef to
lee and she won't steam out again."
Jake put a kettle on the cylinder-top and took some provisions from a
locker. He was hungry and thought he might need all the strength he had,
while he did not want to look at the sea. The pump was clanking hard, but
he could hear the water wash about under the floorings, and the launch
was very wet. Darkness fell as he prepared a meal with the fireman's
help, and they ate by the dim light of the engine-lamp, while Dick, to
whom they handed portions, crouched at the helm, gazing close into the
illuminated compass. Sometimes he missed the food they held out and it
dropped and was washed into the pump-well, but he ate what he could
without moving his eyes.
Since he must find the opening in the reef, much depended on his steering
an accurate course, but this was difficult, because he had to bear away
before the largest combers. Moreover, the erratic motion of a short boat
in broken water keeps the compass-card rocking to and fro, and long
practise is needed to hit the mean of its oscillations. As a matter of
fact, Dick knew he was leaving much to luck.
After a time, they heard a hoarse roar. Since the sound would not carry
far to windward, they knew the reef was close ahead, but where the
opening lay was another matter. Dick had no guide except the compass, and
as the launch would probably swamp if he tried to bring her round head to
sea, he must run on and take the risk. By and by, Jake, straining his
eyes to pierce the gloom, called out as he saw a ghostly white glimmer to
starboard. This was the surf spouting on the reef and if it marked the
edge of the channel, they would be safe in going to port; if not, the
launch would very shortly be hurled upon the barrier.
Dick stood up and gazed ahead. The white patch was getting plainer, but
he could see nothing else. There was, however, a difference in the
motion, and the sea was confused. He ordered the engine to be slowed, and
they ran on until the belt of foam bore abeam. They must be almost upon
the reef now, or else in the channel, and for the next minute or two
nobody spoke. If they had missed the gap, the first warning would be a
shock, and then the combers that rolled up behind them would destroy the
stranded craft.
She did not strike; the surf was level with her quarter, and Jake,
thrusting down a long boathook, found no bottom. In another minute or two
the water suddenly got smooth, and he threw down the boathook.
"We're through," he said in a strained voice. "The reef's astern."
"Try the hand-lead," Dick ordered him, as he changed his course, since he
was apparently heading for the beach.
Jake got four fathoms and soon afterwards eighteen feet, when Dick
stopped the engine and the launch rolled upon the broken swell. A dark
streak that looked like forest indicated the land, and a line of foam
that glimmered with phosphorescent light ran outshore of them. Now they
were to lee of the reef, the hoarse clamor of the surf rang about the
boat. Unfolding the chart, they studied it by the engine-lamp. It was on
too small a scale to give many details, but they saw that the reef ran
roughly level with the coast and ended in a nest of shoals near a point.
"We could ride out a gale here," Jake remarked.
"We could, if we wanted," Dick replied.
Jake looked at him rather hard and then made a sign of resignation.
"Well, I guess I've had enough, but if you're going on---- How do you
reckon you'll get through the shoals ahead?"
"I imagine some of them are mangrove islands, and if so, there'll be a
channel of a sort between them. In fact, the chart the broker showed me
indicated something of the kind. With good luck we may find it."
"Very well," said Jake. "I'm glad to think it will be a soft bottom if we
run aground."
They went on, keeping, so far as they could judge, midway between reef
and beach, but after a time the lead showed shoaling water and Jake used
the boathook instead. Then the sky cleared and a half-moon came out, and
they saw haze and the loom of trees outshore of them. Slowing the engine,
they moved on cautiously while the water gradually got shallower, until
glistening banks of mud began to break the surface. Then they stopped the
engine, but found the launch still moved forward.
"I imagine it's about four hours' flood," Dick remarked. "That means the
water will rise for some time yet, and although the current's with us now
I think we can't be far off the meeting of the tides."
Jake nodded. In places of the kind, the stream often runs in from both
ends until it joins and flows in one direction from the shoalest spot.
"Then we ought to find a channel leading out on the other side."
They let the engine run for a few minutes until the boat touched bottom
and stuck fast in the mud. The wind seemed to be falling and the roar of
the surf had got fainter. Thin haze dimmed the moonlight and there were
strange splashings in the water that gently lapped about the belts of
mud. The stream stopped running, but seeing no passage they waited and
smoked.
"If we can get out on the other side, we oughtn't to be very far from the
lagoon," Jake suggested.
Presently there was a faint rippling against the bows and the launch
began to swing round.
"The tide's coming through from the other end," said Dick. "We may find a
channel if we can push her across the mud."
For half an hour they laboriously poled her with a long oar and the
boathook between the banks of mire. Sometimes she touched and stuck until
the rising water floated her off, and sometimes she scraped along the
bottom, but still made progress. They were breathless and soaked with
perspiration, while the foul scum that ran off the oar stained their damp
clothes. Then Jake's boathook sank a foot or two deeper and finding the
depth as good after a few vigorous pushes, they started the engine.
Sour exhalations rose from the wake of the churning screw and there was a
curious dragging feel in the boat's motion, as if she were pulling a body
of water after her, but this was less marked when Jake found three or
four feet, and by and by he threw down the pole and they went half-speed
ahead. After a time, the mangroves outshore got farther off, the air
smelt fresher, and small ripples broke the surface of the widening
channel. They went full-speed, the trees faded, and a swell that set her
rocking met the boat, although there still seemed to be a barrier of sand
or mud between her and open sea.
Giving Jake the helm, Dick crawled under the foredeck, where the
floorings were drier than anywhere else, and lay smoking and thinking
until day broke. The light, which grew brighter rapidly, showed a
glistening line of surf to seaward and mangrove forest on a point ahead.
Beyond this there seemed to be an inlet, and then the shore curved out
again. As they passed the point Dick stood up on deck and presently saw
two tall spars rise above the mist. A few minutes later, the top of a
funnel appeared, and then a sharp metallic rattle rang through the haze.
"We're in the lagoon," he said. "That's the Danish boat and she hasn't
finished heaving cargo on board."