_In Which the Cook Smells Smoke, and the "First Venture"
In a Gale of Wind Off the Chunks, Comes Into Still Graver
Peril, Which Billy Topsail Discovers_
Skipper Bill o' Burnt Bay got the _First Venture_ under way at dawn of
the next day. It was blowing a stiff breeze. A fine, fresh wind was
romping fair to the northwest, where, far off, Ruddy Cove lay and Mrs.
Skipper William waited.
"I 'low," Skipper Bill mused, as the schooner slipped through the
narrows, "that that there insurance wouldn't o' done much harm
anyhow."
There was an abrupt change of weather. It came without warning; and
there was no hint of apology to the skipper of the _First Venture_.
When the schooner was still to the s'uth'ard of the dangerous Chunks,
but approaching them, she was beating laboriously into a violent and
capricious head wind. Bill o' Burnt Bay, giving heed to Sir
Archibald's injunction, kept her well off the group of barren islands.
They were mere rocks, scattered widely. Some of them showed their
forbidding heads to passing craft; others were submerged, as though
lying in wait. It would be well to sight them, he knew, that he might
better lay his course; but he was bound that no lurking rock should
"pick up" his ship.
"Somehow or other," he thought, "I wisht I _had_ took out that there
insurance."
At dusk it began to snow. What with this thick, blinding cloud driving
past, shrouding the face of the sea, and what with the tumultuous
waves breaking over her, and what with the roaring gale drowning her
lee rail, the _First Venture_ was having a rough time of it. Skipper
Bill, with his hands on the wheel, had the very satisfactory
impression, for which he is not to be blamed, that he was "a man." But
when, at last, the _First Venture_ began to howl for mercy in no
uncertain way, he did not hesitate to waive the wild joy of "driving"
for the satisfaction of keeping his spars in the sockets.
"Better call the hands, Tom!" he shouted to the first hand. "We'll
reef her."
Tom put his head into the forecastle. The fire in the little round
stove was roaring lustily; and the swinging lamp filled the narrow
place with warm light.
"Out with you, lads!" Tom cried. "All hands on deck t' reef the
mains'l!"
Up they tumbled; and up tumbled Archie Armstrong, and up tumbled
Jimmie Grimm, and up tumbled Billy Topsail.
"Blowin' some," thought Archie. "Great sailin' breeze. What's he
reefin' for?"
The great sail was obstinate. Ease the schooner as Skipper Bill would,
it was still hard for his crew of two men, three lads and a cook to
grasp and confine the canvas. Meantime, the schooner lurched along,
tossing her head, digging her nose into the frothy waves. A cask on
the after deck broke its lashings, pursued a mad and devastating
career fore and aft, and at last went spinning into the sea. Skipper
Bill devoutly hoped that nothing else would get loose above or below.
He cast an apprehensive glance into the darkening cloud of snow ahead.
There was no promise to be descried. And to leeward the first islands
of the Chunks, which had been sighted an hour ago, had disappeared in
the night.
"Lively with that mains'l, lads!" Skipper Bill shouted, lifting his
voice above the wind. "We'll reef the fores'l!"
The crew had been intent upon the task in hand. Not a man had yet
smelled smoke. And they continued to wrestle with the obstinate sail,
each wishing, heartily enough, to get the dirty-weather job well done,
and to return to the comfort of the forecastle. It was the cook who
first paused to sniff--to sniff again--and to fancy he smelled smoke.
But a gust of wind at that moment bellied his fold of the sail, and he
forgot the dawning suspicion in an immediate tussle to reduce the
disordered canvas. A few minutes more of desperate work and the
mainsail was securely reefed; but these were supremely momentous
intervals, during which the fate of the _First Venture_ was
determined.
"All stowed, sir!" Archie Armstrong shouted to the skipper.
"Get at that fores'l, then!" was the order.
With the customary, "Ay, ay, sir!" shouted cheerily, in the manner of
good men and willing lads, the crew ran forward.
Skipper Bill remembers that the cook tripped and went sprawling into
the lee scupper; and that he scrambled out of the water with a
laugh.
It was the last laugh aboard the _First Venture_; for the condition of
the schooner was then instantly discovered.
"Fire!" screamed Billy Topsail.
The _First Venture_ was all ablaze forward.