PAUL TAKES COMMAND OF THE FLYAWAY.
"Help us, Paul, if you can," cried Tom, as the prisoners rushed up the
ladder. "You take the helm, Dick."
"Me!" exclaimed the steward. "I don't know no more about handling a
vessel than I do about making a watch. Paul must help you."
"Forgive me, Paul, for shutting you up down there, and get us out of
this scrape if you can."
At this moment the keel of the Flyaway grazed upon a rock, and then
bumped heavily as she sank down with the sea.
"We are lost! We shall all be drowned!" exclaimed Frank Thompson.
Paul's quick eye instantly measured the peril that menaced the Flyaway,
and though she continued to thump and grind on the rocks at the bottom,
he did not lose all hope of saving her. The first thing was to secure
the jib sheet. Seizing the guy rope which was used to haul out the main
boom, he ordered all hands forward. At the end of the line there was a
large iron hook, which, with a dexterous throw, he succeeded in
fastening to the block. The sail was then hauled down, and the truant
sheet effectually secured.
The coast line, upon which they were in danger of being dashed to
pieces, extended northeast and southwest, and the yacht was still some
twenty rods distant from the breakers. Paul ordered the jib to be hauled
hard up on the weather side, which caused the vessel's head to swing
round with the wind; then, as the sheet was eased off, she slid over the
rock, and for a moment ran down parallel with the coast, and before the
wind.
When this manoeuvre had been successfully accomplished, Paul ran to
the helm, and giving the necessary orders, the Flyaway was soon braced
sharp up, and standing away from the breakers.
"Three cheers for Paul Duncan!" shouted Tom Nettle, when he realized
that they had escaped the terrible fate which a moment before had hung
over them. "One!"
"Hold your tongue, Tom!" replied Paul, sharply. "Try the pump, and see
whether she leaks any."
The cheers were not given in the face of this sharp rebuke, and Tom
hastened to obey the order which Paul had just issued. The examination
revealed the gratifying fact that the Flyaway was still sound, and made
no water. She had only bumped a few times in deep water with the action
of the waves.
"You can take the helm again, Tom," said Paul, when the survey was
completed. "If you wish to make me a prisoner again, I will go below."
"I do not," replied Tom.
"I am not one of your number, but I should like to ask what you intend
to do?"
"We calculated to go to Portland," replied the chief of the conspiracy.
"To Portland?"
"That is what we intended."
"That is not what you told us," said one of the boys. "You said you
would only run out a little way, and return before Captain Gordon got
back."
"That was only to get your consent to the plan, you spoonies," said
Frank.
"You are smart sailors, I must confess," replied Paul, with a sneer. "It
was easy enough to get out of the harbor, but not so easy to get back
again."
"We depended upon you," said Tom.
"Did you, indeed? Do you expect me to join in such a miserable scrape as
this?"
"We will do just what you say now."
"Will you? You are very kind. After you have got into a difficulty you
can't get out of you want me to join the company. You expect me to pilot
you down to Portland--don't you?"
"We will obey your orders, Paul; go anywhere you please," said Frank.
"That is a great deal easier said than done. What can I do, what can
anybody do, in this fog? You thought you knew everything, Tom, better
than Captain Gordon. I hope you have got enough of it."
"Captain Gordon was right," replied Tom; and this sentiment was
responded to by all the mutineers.
"I'm glad you have come to your senses, even at the eleventh hour,"
continued Paul; who, finding the conspirators were all upon the stool of
repentance, was disposed to treat them a great deal better than they
deserved.
"I shall not go to Portland, or attempt to go there, for I do not
consider myself competent to pilot a vessel in these waters," said he.
"I shall take the Flyaway back to Portsmouth harbor as soon as I can get
there."
"Wherever you say, Paul, we will go," answered Tom.
It was no easy matter to run back to the harbor they had left in the
dense fog that then prevailed, and Paul was sorely tried to determine
what course he should take. From his study of the chart and the
information derived from Captain Briskett, he had obtained a tolerable
idea of the coast and of the dangerous ledges and islands in the
vicinity. This knowledge, however, was of little use to him while the
fog lasted. He had no doubt that the island upon which the mutineers had
so nearly wrecked the Flyaway was Boon Island, or one of the Isles of
Shoals. The yacht was now headed east by north by the compass, and a few
hours upon this course would bring them to the coast of Maine.
"Two of you go forward, and keep a sharp lookout ahead," said Paul.
"Tom, you will take the helm, while I go below and look on the chart."
"Ay, ay," replied Tom, reassured by the coolness and self-possession of
the newly-appointed skipper.
"I would give a good deal to be out of this scrape," continued Paul.
"So would I," frankly added Tom. "I was a fool to think I knew more
about navigation than Captain Gordon. What do you suppose will become of
us?"
"I can't form any idea," answered Paul, as he descended the ladder.
He found that the closet which contained the chart was locked; but he
felt that the circumstances in which he was placed fully justified him
in forcing open the door, and he lost no time in doing so. With the
chart in his hand he returned to the deck.
After questioning Tom in regard to the course he had sailed since
leaving Kittery Point, he came to the conclusion that the land astern of
them was one of the Isles of Shoals, for they never could have made Boon
Island without tacking. But he could not see how, with the wind
northeast, and the yacht close-hauled, she had brought up on the Isles
of Shoals. Tom helped him solve this difficulty by declaring that he had
not been very particular in keeping her close up to the wind.
Having satisfied himself on this point, the youthful skipper proceeded
to decide upon his future course. If he continued to sail towards the
north, he was in danger of running upon Boon Island. The night was
coming on and it promised to be a night of peril.
There were only two methods open to the young navigator. He must either
attempt to make Portsmouth harbor again, or stand out to sea. In the
dense fog, it would be extremely perilous for him to try to find the
port from which they had sailed; and on the other hand, it seemed
scarcely less perilous to go to sea with the prospect of a gale before
him. It was an anxious moment for poor Paul, for he felt that the safety
of the yacht and of his misguided companions were in his keeping, and
before God he felt responsible for them. He tried to hold a consultation
with Tom and some of the larger boys, but they were utterly incapable of
giving him any advice. They were completely bewildered, and looked up to
Paul as children to a father, in the midst of the dangers into which
they had so recklessly and criminally plunged.
The heart of the young captain was full, as he thought of his mother and
his friends at home. He felt his own weakness, his own ignorance, and,
stealing away from his companions he went below, and, on his bended
knee, looked to Heaven for that strength and that knowledge which Heaven
alone can give in the hour of peril. He prayed for himself, for his
brother, and for all his companions; but especially did he ask God to
give him wisdom to guide the frail bark through the perils that
environed her.
The prayer gave him resolution, and, as though his earnest supplication
had been heard, he felt competent to decide between the two courses
which alone were left open to him. The shore was studded with dangers;
and the broad ocean, though lashed into fury by the increasing tempest,
was preferable to a lee shore. The Flyaway was a stiff sea-boat, and if
well-managed, would ride out any gale that would be likely to come upon
them at this season of the year.
On his return to the deck, therefore, he ordered all hands to stand by
the jib sheet while he took the helm himself. His directions were so
skilfully given, and so well obeyed, that the Flyaway came about as
handsomely as though Captain Gordon himself had controlled the
manoeuvre. Her course was laid exactly east, and the compass was
placed in a convenient position for use.
Dick now summoned the crew to supper. Several of them looked at Paul,
but no one ventured to leave the post of duty till explicit orders had
been given to that effect. Half the boys were permitted to "pipe to
supper," while the other half were to remain on duty.
After the meal was disposed of, Paul gave the helm to Tom, and went
forward to make his arrangement for the night. The foresail was reefed
in readiness for use in case it should blow too hard for the vessel to
carry the jib and mainsail; the fore hatch was carefully secured to
guard against the peril of "shipping a sea;" and such other preparations
were made as the occasion required.
On his return to the standing room, Paul found that Tom could not steer
by compass, and he was obliged to take the helm himself. Among the
appointments of the Fawn, there was a compass; and Paul, more for the
purpose of familiarizing himself with its use than from any necessity
had often steered by it. The knowledge which the youthful mariner had
thus gained was now invaluable to him, and he was thankful that he had
obtained it.
A long and tedious night was before him, even though the perils of a
gale should not be added to his present trials. The steward, at his
request, brought him up an oil-cloth coat belonging to Captain Gordon,
and thus protected from the penetrating mist, he gave himself up to the
long and anxious watch before him.
Darkness came down upon them, and the Flyaway still rolled and pitched
in the heavy head-sea. The wind did not sensibly increase, and Paul
dared to hope that the gale would not break upon them. At nine o'clock
he bade half the boys go below and turn in, assuring them they would be
called at one o'clock. The order was obeyed, but not one of the boys
could sleep until nearly half of their watch below had expired.
Hour after hour Paul kept his position at the helm, till the clock in
the cabin indicated midnight. The watch on deck had taken turns at the
lookout on the bowsprit. No event had occurred to disturb the monotony
of the scene, except that they narrowly escaped being run down by a
large schooner. The fog had begun to dissipate, and by one o'clock they
had passed entirely out of it; but the wind had increased in violence,
and at this time it blew a fresh gale.
All hands were called up, and after an hour of hard labor, the jib and
mainsail were taken in, and the reefed foresail set. Now, though the
wind blew a gale, the Flyaway behaved so well that Paul ventured to send
the watch which had served from nine o'clock below. At four o'clock, the
yacht having run ten hours to the eastward, the clouds began to
disperse, the wind suddenly abated, till it became almost a calm, and
there was every appearance of fair weather. At this time Paul put the
Flyaway about, and laid her course due west.