AT SEA.
Sailoring under such circumstances as the boys experienced immediately
after leaving the key was decidedly pleasant work, and it appeared to be
a very easy matter to navigate a vessel.
The wind was hardly more than what might have been called a gentle
breeze, and the Zoe glided through the water at the rate of three or
four knots an hour.
Ned was at the helm, and his companions, in order to discuss the
question of a course in case land should be sighted suddenly, were also
in the pilot-house.
“If it wasn’t for the drag of the screw we’d be slippin’ along right
lively now,” Ned said as he looked back at the island they had been so
eager to leave.
“According to this we shall need a good stiff wind to make any kind of
time,” Roy replied thoughtfully, “and how she’ll act when we have to
tack is more than I can fancy.”
“There’s no use in borrowing trouble about that,” Vance said quickly.
“Who knows but we shall hold the wind this way all the voyage?”
“It isn’t very likely. Don’t you remember that it has nearly always died
out about noon, from the first day we struck the key?”
“That is no sign it will do so now.”
“No, but there’s good reason for believing it may act in the same
manner. Which of us is on watch? I suppose one must consider himself
doing duty, even though he may be loafing.”
“Vance is the lookout, for you can’t be spared from the galley; but how
are we to work it at night?” Ned asked. “I never thought of that before
we started, an’ it’s goin’ to be kinder tough if a feller has to stay at
the wheel two or three days without any sleep.”
“We must contrive to run into a harbor every day before sunset, and then
all hands can turn in,” Vance suggested.
“There don’t seem to be much chance of that to-night. With no land in
sight now, the Zoe couldn’t get very near a port between this and
nightfall.”
“If it is necessary to run after dark we must contrive so that each has
the proper amount of rest. By standing half-hour watches there wouldn’t
be much chance of a fellow getting asleep at the wheel.”
“Have we anything aboard in the shape of a clock?” Ned asked. “I don’t
reckon you’ve been able to make your watches go since they got such a
soakin’?”
“They will need a watchmaker’s care before they can do very much toward
keeping time,” Vance said ruefully as he looked at his, the hands of
which had not moved since he landed in such a helpless fashion.
“I shouldn’t be surprised if the little clock in the pantry was all
right,” Roy said after a moment’s thought. “It couldn’t have got very
wet, and perhaps it needs only to be wound.”
He left the wheel-house on a tour of investigation as he ceased
speaking, and returned a short time later with the article referred to.
“It’s all right,” he said as he hung it on a hook directly in front of
the helmsman. “I don’t reckon it will be valuable as a time-keeper,
inasmuch as we haven’t any very good idea of what hour it is now; but
she will serve to show when the watches should be begun or ended.”
During another hour the boys discussed the probability of being able to
reach Key West within a certain length of time, and then Roy went below
to make preparations for dinner.
Vance found the moments hanging rather heavily on his hands, and
presently he lay down for a nap, leaving Ned to work the craft alone.
Fortunately she did not need much guiding. The wind had been gradually
decreasing until it died away entirely, and before the noon-day meal was
ready the yacht lost steerage-way.
It was useless to remain longer at the wheel, and Ned went below to
overhaul the cabin on the chance of finding a pair of marine glasses in
one of the lockers which had not been overhauled.
In this he was successful, much to his delight, and he went on deck once
more in the hope of being able to see land.
He searched the horizon carefully in every direction, but failed to see
that for which he sought.
This fact worried him not a little.
“It is almost certain there will be a breeze after the sun sets, and
unless the stars shine very brightly we shall be obliged to keep on
without knowing whether we’re goin’ to strike a reef or run out into the
ocean.”
Now for the first time since he decided in his own mind that it would be
possible to carry the Zoe into port did he begin to question the wisdom
of such an attempt.
Limited though his experience as a sailor had been, he understood how
many chances there were against success and also the dangers which were
in their way.
“It would come pretty tough if I’d insisted on the boys tryin’ to get to
Key West in this craft, an’ it turned out that they were to meet their
death by following my advice,” he said to himself, and straightway the
most dismal forebodings took possession of him.
It was while he was in this mood that he went below, as if needing
companionship, and the cook, busily engaged as he was, could not fail to
note the lugubrious look on his face.
“Is Vance at the wheel?”
“He’s asleep on the locker. It is a dead calm, an’ there’s no need of
anybody standin’ there.”
“What makes you look so glum?”
“Perhaps it’s because I’m just beginnin’ to get some common sense into
my head.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I’m thinkin’ that perhaps we did a foolish thing in tryin’ to take this
craft into port. I coaxed you an’ Vance until you had to give in, an’ it
would be terrible if anything should happen.”
“I reckon you are suffering from an attack of foolishness instead of
common sense. We wanted to come, and probably should have insisted on
trying to float the yacht or howled after she had been beaten to pieces
because we didn’t do such a thing. What has struck you so suddenly?”
“The fact that we shall be out to-night not knowin’ where we’re
steerin’, but obliged to run because I can’t heave a craft to.”
“I don’t reckon there’ll be much danger in that. If there’s no land to
be seen when the sun sets it’s precious little chance she’ll run any
down before morning. Is the island out of sight yet?”
“No, but we’ve sailed a great deal further than I thought would be
possible in so short a time. Of course it is in full view, but you can’t
distinguish anything on the shore.”
“And we couldn’t get back if it should become necessary?”
“Not without wind.”
“Then the only thing is to make the best of it. All hands of us had
rather be here, taking our chances of ever getting into port, than back
on the island to make the start over again. So what’s the use of being
down in the mouth about having been able to do exactly as you wanted?”
It was such talk as this which made Ned feel decidedly comfortable in
mind, and by the time dinner had been cooked and eaten he was as jolly
as ever.
Until about four o’clock in the afternoon there was nothing to be done
except loaf around wishing for a breeze, and then the wind sprang up
again in the same direction as before.
Ned was at the helm when the sails began to flap, and once more the Zoe
was gliding through the water with her short bowsprit pointed due west.
Both Roy and Vance were on the lookout, each hoping to see some signs of
land, but the hours wore away until the key was only a faint smudge on
the horizon, and around them nothing save water.
“We’re in for a night-run,” Roy said cheerily as the sun began to sink
behind the sea, “and most likely by morning we shall have something to
guide us.”
“It may happen that we shall be forced to trust to the wind for anything
of that sort,” Ned replied as he pointed to the sky, which was being
rapidly covered with fleecy clouds. “I don’t know much about weather
signs on the ocean, but if I was back in Maine I should say we were
goin’ to have a storm.”
Neither Vance nor Roy thought the swiftly moving masses of vapor
portended anything in particular, and the latter went into the kitchen
once more, for he was determined that his portion of the work should be
attended to in proper shape.
Before he reappeared again there was a very decided change in the aspect
of the sky.
The wind had begun to veer around, and continued to increase in violence
until it was blowing directly from the north, causing the sea to rise
until the little craft wallowed into the trough, throwing the spray high
over the deck.
For fully twenty minutes after this change Roy gave no signs of life,
and then he came into the wheel-house looking decidedly alarmed.
“It’s beginning to blow,” he said, as if it was a piece of news which
would please his companions.
“We understood that quite a while ago,” Vance replied quickly. “Is this
the first you knew of it?”
“I could tell by the motion of the yacht that a sea was getting up, but
I didn’t suppose it was so bad as this. Do you intend running on the
same course, Ned?”
“We had to change that when the wind shifted. Now she is headin’ due
south.”
“Why, that means we are running out to sea, surely, no matter which side
the chain of keys we were!”
“You’re right; but I don’t see any other way for it. To take the chances
of pilin’ up on the land by headin’ west would be worse than foolish,
and besides, with such poor sailors aboard, we might as well be on a
raft, for the only safe thing to do is to go with the wind. I wonder if
you fellows can’t reef the sails?”
“Of course we can, and I think it would be a good idea to get out the
lanterns, unless we want to be run down.”
“I declare I never thought of that!” Ned exclaimed. “Attend to it, will
you, and then see what can be done toward shortening the canvas. I’ll
bear a hand if one of you will take the wheel.”
“Stay where you are. I reckon Vance and I can do that much.”
“Be careful of yourselves!” Ned cried as the two left the pilot-house.
“You know it wouldn’t take much of a flap of the sails to knock you
overboard.”
“We’ll look out!” Vance cried, and then the two disappeared down the
companion-way to the engine-room in the search for the signal lights.
It was fifteen or twenty minutes before the lanterns were in their
places, and then the foresail was lowered as the boys began to reef it.
Meanwhile Ned stood at the wheel trying in vain to peer through the
dense blackness of the night, and the little yacht plunged on her way to
possible perils—perhaps a second shipwreck.