The Bore
The _Olivette_ saved her tide into the outer basin of Le Havre. She
was just in time to enter the lock gates of the Bassin de l'Eure
before they were closed on the falling tide. Meanwhile, the _Acacis_
had berthed in the Bassin Vauban.
"More floating docks!" exclaimed Flemming ruefully, as he surveyed
the stagnant water. "How long do we stop here, sir, please?"
"Only until we've handed back the man belonging to the _Acacis_, and
shown our papers to the authorities," replied Mr. Armitage. "We are
going to bring up in the Tancarville Canal to-night."
"Canal, sir?" echoed Roche. "I thought we were going up the River
Seine."
"So we are, Dick," replied the Scoutmaster. "This canal, however,
saves us a dangerous bit of navigation. The estuary of the Seine is
full of shifting sandbanks, and if we did happen to get aground, the
_Olivette_ would stand a great risk of becoming a total loss. There
have been numerous instances of quite large vessels grounding in the
estuary and heeling over and filling. You see the bore complicates
matters."
"The bore, sir?" exclaimed Flemming.
"Yes, you'll make its acquaintance before very long," replied Mr.
Armitage. "We'll get the tail end of it several times before we reach
Rouen."
Just then the skipper of the _Acacis_ arrived with a couple of
"hands" to take the absent member of the crew back to the ship.
"Who was the Sea Scout who took to the ditch?" inquired the Old Man,
after he had expressed his warmest thanks for the rescue and care of
the man who had fallen overboard. "Wasn't much, eh? I don't know
about that. I call it pretty plucky. I mean to report the
circumstance to the Royal Humane Society when I get back--which may
be in a couple of months or more. On this job one never knows when
the trip's going to end."
The next caller was a Port official. To him Mr. Armitage handed a
document, signed by the French Minister responsible for the
splendidly organized inland waterways of the Republic. The paper was
a permit for the _Olivette_ to make use of the Tancarville Canal, and
it was expressly stated that the passage through the locks was free.
"This is one of the things they do better in France," observed Mr.
Armitage. "Not only do they provide a safe means of avoiding the
dangerous estuary, but they grant us a free passage. If the canals of
England were half as well looked after as they are on this side of
the Channel----"
By six o'clock in the afternoon the _Olivette_ had traversed four and
a half kilometres of the canal, and had tied up for the night close
to a "cut" leading to the town of Harfleur.
"We must see the sights of Harfleur," declared Mr. Armitage. "It is
only a little town, but it's full of interest. You remember, perhaps,
how it was besieged and captured by Henry V before he won the Battle
of Agincourt."
Accordingly the dinghy was launched and manned. It was the first time
the little craft had been used since the _Olivette_ left Keyhaven,
and even then, it was not absolutely necessary. The Sea Scouts could
have landed and walked along the canal bank.
It was dark by the time they returned. Tom Boldrigg had lighted the
cabin lamps, and had prepared supper. Eagerly, the hungry lads sat
down to enjoy what promised to be an appetizing repast, but their
anticipated pleasure failed in its realization.
The _Olivette_ was invaded. Thousands of little green flies swarmed
everywhere. The lamp glasses were thick with them; so much so, that
in spite of frequent cleaning, the light was almost entirely obscured
by the writhing insects. These covered the table, settled on the food
and in the hot cocoa. In the circumstances, making a meal was out of
the question.
"It's the light that does it," declared Boldrigg. "Put out the light
an' the midges'll sheer off."
This suggestion was acted upon. In addition, the _Olivette's_ riding
lamp was hoisted to attract the flies. The result justified the
experiment. As if by magic, the insects disappeared, leaving hundreds
of small corpses in the cabin. Hungry, the crew had to make a sorry
meal in the darkness, munching hard biscuits and trusting to luck
that they were not swallowing dead flies; and in darkness, too, they
sought their bunks.
At six the following morning, the "hands" were roused in true
nautical style. It was a glorious morning, and the waters of the
canal looked temptingly clean and fresh. Soon all the crew were
swimming about, and so thoroughly did they enjoy it, that Mr.
Armitage had difficulty in getting them to come out of the water.
Before breakfast could be served, Roche and Flemming had to walk into
Harfleur to obtain fresh provisions, for everything of an edible
nature on board had been spoiled by the flies.
While the two Sea Scouts were away on their errand the rest cleaned
ship thoroughly, all hands hoping that a repetition of the visitation
would not occur on the following night.
In about an hour Roche and Flemming returned, having had a successful
marketing, in spite of the language difficulty. Their French was
unintelligible to the Harfleur shopkeepers, and the _patois_ of the
latter equally so to the Sea Scouts, but by means of disjointed words
and dumb show, Flemming and Roche had bought a goodly supply of
necessaries.
"Another eleven miles before we're through the canal, lads,"
announced Mr. Armitage as the _Olivette_ prepared to get under way.
"You'll have to cut out a couple of cylinders, Roche, as we did in
the Thames. Five miles an hour is the speed limit here."
It was not a case of plain seamanship. The traffic on the canal was
heavy, comprising small steamships and barges. Most of the latter
were motor-propelled, but several were towed by steam-tugs, often
three abreast in a string. More than once the _Olivette's_ stout
rubbing-strake saved her from serious damage as the tail end of a
line of barges took a sheer and swung nearly across the wide canal.
Kilometre after kilometre was passed, but the long, perfectly
straight canal seemed to have no ending, until early in the afternoon
the _Olivette_ entered the Tancarville Lock, through which she had to
pass to gain the River Seine.
"We've a hot tide against us, sir," remarked Peter when the boat was
breasting the swift current of the river. "Oughtn't we to bring up
until the flood sets in?"
"No," replied Mr. Armitage. "We must push on and try and reach
Quillebeuf before then."
Stratton looked puzzled. Knowing the Scoutmaster's usual keenness in
"working the tides", it seemed strange that he should show anxiety to
proceed against a strong current; while, by waiting a few hours, the
_Olivette_ could easily make up for lost time by taking advantage of
the flood tide.
"We have the bore to take into consideration," was Mr. Armitage's
enigmatical answer. "Let her all out, Flemming, and keep within easy
distance of the reversing-lever; it may be wanted in a hurry."
It took nearly an hour to cover the five and a half miles to
Quillebeuf, but the Sea Scouts rather enjoyed the unusual scenery;
Those not on duty were basking on deck until Mr. Armitage told them
to go below.
As the lads scrambled down the iron ladder into the well, they heard
a faint distant rumble.
"Thunder, by Jove!" exclaimed Warkworth.
In a few minutes the roar increased. It certainly was not thunder.
The Sea Scouts looked at each other inquiringly.
They observed, also, that there was great activity on board the small
boats at Quillebeuf. Men were busy casting off moorings and rowing
the little craft into the centre of the stream.
Suddenly round a bend in the river, down-stream, a huge wall of water
was seen approaching at a furious rate and breaking heavily against
both banks. To the lads this moving mass appeared to be quite twenty
feet high, but in reality it was about one third that height.
It was the bore, or "La Barre"--a tidal wave caused by the flood tide
forcing its way into the funnel-shaped estuary and overwhelming the
ebb.
"Hang on to something, all hands!" shouted Mr. Armitage.
"Hard-a-starboard, Peter."
Round swung the _Olivette_ until her bows pointed down-stream.
"Easy ahead!" was the next order.
Straight for the centre of the bow-shaped wall of water the staunch
little craft headed. Into it she plunged, thrusting her bluff snout
deep into the wave. A foaming torrent swept the foredeck, and,
breaking against the wheel-house, flew high in the air in a cloud of
spray.
For a few seconds it seemed as if the _Olivette_ were standing on her
heel. Her momentum was temporarily stopped. Somewhere below, the
sound audible above the roar of the bore, came the crash of broken
glass. Then with a dizzy, disconcerting movement the boat slid down
the reverse side of the liquid wall into the agitated water beyond.
"There's another one, sir!" exclaimed Peter as soon as the moisture
on the wheel-house windows cleared sufficiently to enable him to see
ahead.
Three more times in quick succession the _Olivette_ charged moving
walls of roaring surf-crested water; then she found herself in a
turmoil of dangerous waves, steep, irregular, and silent as they
surged onwards in the wake of the bore. In a few moments the
agitation died away; the _Olivette_ ported helm, and, with a six-knot
tide to aid her on her way, progressed rapidly up-stream.
"Jolly exciting, eh, what?" exclaimed Peter. "Does that happen twice
every day, sir? If so, what do we do when there's a bore at night?"
"We'll certainly have a repetition of it," replied Mr. Armitage, "but
I hope we'll be in fairly sheltered water to-night. We've struck it
at rather an awkward time, as we're right on the top of the spring
tides. At neaps the bore is hardly noticeable."
Before the tide changed again the _Olivette_ had passed Caudebec and
followed the wide and sharp curve that the Seine makes round the
forest of Jumièges, and brought up off the little town of Duclair.
"We won't feel much of the bore here," said Mr. Armitage, when the
_Olivette_ had picked up a set of moorings lent by a courteous
Frenchman. "It will be safe to leave the boat; so who's for the
shore? A jolly good walk will do us good. Are you coming with us,
Tom?"
Old Boldrigg expressed his readiness to go. Hitherto he had spent
most of his time on board while the _Olivette_ was in port.
"And what did you think of the bore, Mr. Boldrigg?" asked Peter,
while the old seaman was changing into "shore rig".
"Not much, by a long chalk, Master Peter," was the reply. "When I saw
that there a-bearing down on us, I wished I was properly
afloat--plenty of sea-room, you'll understand. Rivers is all very
well, but give me the deep sea--it's safer."