An Error of Judgment
A lifting fog, a calm sea, and the sun shining brightly overhead, all
presaged a successful voyage. With the first pulsations of the motors
Derek's feelings of resentment towards the Wagshot Air Station
vanished. The bright, healthsome feeling of being afloat once more
dispelled the hideous nightmare of damp concrete walls, hard beds,
and inadequate food.
It soon became apparent that the task of towing the sea-plane was not
so easy as Derek imagined. The unwieldy machine--for out of its
natural element it was unwieldy--yawed, dipped, and strained at the
towing-hawser until Derek ordered the second boat to make fast astern
of the sea-plane and run at half throttle in order to steady the
awkward tow.
With the ebb tide the passage through the "gateway" was soon
completed. Another ten miles would find the sea-plane and her tug out
in the open sea.
In the tide-rip off Fort Churst the behaviour of the sea-plane gave
rise to some anxiety, but, upon gaining the exposed waters of the
English Channel, the rate of progress was uniformly maintained.
Presently Derek noticed that a bank of fog was bearing down before a
stiff southerly, or on-shore breeze. Already the outlines of Thorbury
Head, nine miles away, were blotted out, while, on the starboard
hand, the long line of low, yellowish cliffs was cut up into sections
by the rolling, fleecy vapour.
Consulting the chart Derek found that his course was due west
magnetic, which would pass at least a mile to the south'ard of the
dangerous headland. Allowing for the reduced speed of the boats and
the tow, he calculated that it would take about an hour to bring
Thorbury Head broad on the beam.
Down swept the fog, enveloping everything. From the steering-wheel it
was almost impossible to distinguish the boat's stem-head; while
astern the sea-plane was absolutely invisible.
At the end of forty minutes Derek began to feel a bit doubtful of his
position. Miles astern he could hear the monotonous, mournful wail of
the Bodkin Lighthouse. The sea, hitherto calm, was now setting in
with a long roll, breaking heavily upon the invisible shore with a
continuous, sullen roar.
"It seems rather shallow, sir," remarked the coxswain, as he shook
the drops of moisture from the rim of his sou'wester. "Shall I take a
cast, sir?"
"Yes, please."
In his anxiety about keeping the boat on her course Derek had
forgotten the indispensable lead-line. A cast gave two and a quarter
fathoms, whereas, according to the chart, there ought to be a depth
of nine.
"Steer south-west," ordered Derek. "There's something strange about
this business," he added in an undertone.
"Breakers ahead, sir!"
A partial lifting of the fog enabled the range of visibility to
extend to nearly a quarter of a mile. As far as the eye could see the
water was one seething mass of huge waves, from which there was no
escape. The boats were trapped in the dangerous Thorbury Bay.
It was the result of an error of judgment on the part of Derek
Daventry. He had laid off the course of the chart without taking into
consideration the leeway made by the slowly-moving boats and the
ungainly sea-plane; neither had he made allowance for the deviation
of the compass, which happened to be one and a half points on a
westerly course; there was also the indraught of the tide, which
tended to set a vessel shorewards. All three factors were hard at
work during the run through the fog-bank.
The first breaker bore down, enveloping the leading boat's bows in a
swirling cascade of water. Lifting the stocked anchor from its bed it
swept the heavy mass of metal overboard. With a rush and a rattle the
cable paid out until the boat brought up with a savage jerk.
Simultaneously she swung round broadside on to a particularly
fearful-looking breaker. Pouring over the cockpit the water promptly
short-circuited the ignition, and the motor stopped dead. Helpless in
the trough of the sea, the boat was at the mercy of the next crested
wave.
"Cut away the sea-plane!" shouted Derek.
A hand gave the tautened cable a slash with a knife. Simultaneously
the second boat cast off her steadying-line, and the abandoned
sea-plane began drifting towards the shore with incredible rapidity.
To make matters worse the engineer, under the impression that the
next sea would roll the boat completely over, kicked off his
sea-boots and plunged overboard. In the grip of the tide he was swept
to leeward, and even had he been an exceptionally good swimmer his
chances of reaching the shore alive were very remote.
A deck-hand, seeing his comrade's predicament, jumped into the sea
and struck out to his aid. It was a gallant but unavailing act,
although by so doing he additionally hampered the work of rescue.
Meanwhile the second boat, ignorant of what had occurred, was making
heavy weather in the breakers. She had all her work cut out to keep
"end-on" to the hissing, seething masses of water that threatened to
overwhelm her. Her coxswain-learner, who had a few months previously
been steering a plough on a chalky Wiltshire down, was handling the
boat with cool and calculated skill.
For want of an engineer Derek tackled the broken-down engine, working
in feverish desperation in order to make an effort to save his two
men. Plugs were out and replaced in record time, the magneto was
wiped and dried, and the cylinders "doped". A couple of determined
swings of the cranking-lever and the engine fired, spasmodically at
first, then with every indication of "carrying on".
"Slip the cable!" shouted Derek.
A couple of hands made their way along the heaving, slippery
fore-deck, hanging on tenaciously as masses of solid water swept over
them. Watching his opportunity one of the men dropped down the
fore-hatch, which his companion immediately replaced. In utter
darkness, for the inspection lamp he carried was jerked violently
against the coaming of the hatchway, the man toiled desperately,
knocking out the stubborn pin of the shackle and allowing the cable
to fly through the fair-lead.
The moment Derek saw the end of the cable disappear beneath the waves
he slipped in the clutch, while the coxswain steadied the vessel on
her helm and bore down toward the two swimmers. By dispensation of
Providence the waves were no longer of such a threatening character.
They were still formidable, and had to be treated with caution.
Judging his distance well the helmsman brought the boat close
alongside the now well-nigh exhausted men. Already Derek had thrown
the clutch into neutral, and, losing way, the motor-boat stopped to
windward of the swimmers. Willing hands hauled them into safety, the
engineer bleeding from a severe cut on the forehead, and showing
distinct signs of light-headedness.
Meanwhile the second boat, having drawn clear of the dangerous
breakers, was returning to the aid of her consort. As she did so her
motor "konked". Instead of rendering assistance she was now in urgent
need of help.
Another partial lifting of the fog revealed the true position. Within
three hundred yards to the west'ard could be discerned the bold
outlines of Thorbury Head, while to the nor'ard were the sand-dunes
at the mouth of the shallow Thorbury Harbour, and it was between
these two points that the breakers were raging. Elsewhere the sea was
almost as calm as the proverbial mill-pond, but in the mist Derek had
steered his boat right through the danger-zone.
Heaving a line to the disabled motor-boat Derek took her in tow,
steering a circuitous course to avoid the now very apparent danger.
Then, having made a good offing, he handed the helm to the coxswain.
The engineer was quite _hors de combat_. Stripped of his saturated
clothing and wrapped up in blankets, he was being attended to in the
warm but cramped engine-room. Still light-headed, he required the
sole attentions of one of the crew to keep him under control.
Derek was now able to review the situation. He felt far from
comfortable on the matter. The seaplane was lost--probably smashed to
matchwood on the beach. Both boats were considerably knocked about,
while two of the crew were out of action, and a third was temporarily
disabled by reason of a badly-crushed finger-nail. In addition there
was the loss of a practically brand-new anchor and forty fathoms of
galvanized cable, two life-buoys, and a White Ensign and its staff,
which had been carried away during the towing manoeuvres.
And now, with malevolent irony, the sun was shining brightly, the
last vestiges of fog had dispersed, and the sea was as smooth as
glass.
Visions of a court martial, or at least a stringent court of enquiry,
stared Derek in the face, with the possibility of being dismissed
from the Marine Branch of the R.A.F.
"We'll be back just in time to miss the after-dinner parade, sir,"
remarked the coxswain, as the leading boat swept round the
south-westerly extremity of Sableridge and the pier opened out at
less than two hundred yards distance. "It's close on three bells."
"There's not a man on the parade-ground," rejoined Derek, "but
there's a crowd on the pier-head, and all the boats are on their
moorings 'cept the duty-boat. Looks jolly funny."
But the mystery of suspended activity on the part of the Marine Depot
was soon elucidated, for a stentorian voice called Derek as his boat
ran alongside the pier.
"Cheerio, old bird! Can you fancy yourself out of a job?"
Derek had been doing so for the last hour.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
A dozen voices answered the question.
"ARMISTICE!"