IN WHICH AN EXPECTED COMEDY PROVES TO BE A TRAGEDY
I knew well enough that my cousin, Paul Downes, was too thoroughly
scared by my threat to have him arrested for assault, to openly make an
attack upon either my boat or myself. But his money could bribe such
fellows as I had seen him with that very day, to sink the Wavecrest,
or even to assault me in the dark.
It would be a joke on Paul--so I thought--if he or his friends should
sneak out to the sloop where she was moored, intending to do her some
harm, and find me there all ready for such a visitation. I chuckled to
myself while I wended my way to the shore, carrying a single oar with
me, and unlocked the padlock of the chain which fastened my rowboat to
the landing.
There was nobody about, and I pushed out and sculled over to the
Wavecrest without being interfered with. Had I not known so well just
where the sloop lay I declare I would have had trouble in finding her.
It was the darkest kind of a night and it _did_ blow great guns! The
rain pelted as sharp as hail and before I got half way to the sloop I
decided that I wasn't showing very good sense, after all, in coming out
here on such a night. I didn't think Paul and his friends would venture
forth in such a storm.
However, having once set out to do a thing I have usually run the full
course. I am not sure that it is natural perseverance in my case, but
fear that I am more often ashamed to be considered fickle. So I sculled
on to the Wavecrest and prepared to go aboard.
But just here I bethought me that if my cousin should attempt to board
the sloop he would be warned that I was aboard by the presence of the
tender. Therefore I snubbed the nose of the rowboat up short to the
float, and then, after getting into the bows of the Wavecrest I let go
her cable and paid out several yards so that the float and the tender
were both out of sight in the darkness.
I chuckled then, as I crept aft to the cockpit and unlocked the door of
the little cabin. Once inside, out of the rain, I drew curtains before
all the lights and then lit the lamp over the cabin table. There were
four berths, two on each side, with lockers fore and aft. Altogether the
cabin of the Wavecrest was cozy and not a bad place at all in which to
spend a night.
It was still early in the evening. The tide had not long since turned
and was running out, while the wind out of its present quarter was with
the tide. Any craft could sail out of Bolderhead harbor this night with
both gale and sea in its favor; but heaven help the vessel striving to
beat into the inlet! The reefs and ledges along this coast are as
dangerous as any down on the charts.
The Wavecrest pitched a good bit at the end of her cable. I made up my
bed and arranged the lamp in its gimbals near the head of the berth, and
so took off my outer clothing and lay down to read. I did not think that
the lamplight could be seen from without, even if a boat came quite near
me. Being so far in-shore I had lit no riding light. It was unnecessary
at these moorings.
I did not read for long. Used to the swing of the sea as I had been for
years the bucking of the Wavecrest as she tugged at her cable, put me
to sleep before I had any idea that I was sleepy. And my lamp was left
burning.
I do not know how long I was unconscious--at least, I did not know at
the moment of my awakening; but suddenly something bumped against the
sloop's counter. I thought when I opened my eyes:
"Here they are! Now for some fun."
I supposed they would not have seen my light and I was going to put my
head out of the cabin and scare them before they could do the
Wavecrest any harm.
But as it proved, the bumping of the small boat against the sloop did
not announce the arrival of the enemy. Almost instantly--I had not got
into my trousers, indeed--there came a great hammering at the cabin
door.
I did not speak, although at first I supposed the rascals were knocking
to arouse me. Then it shot across my bewildered mind that somebody was
nailing up the cabin door!
"Hello there! stop that!" I bawled, getting interested in the
proceedings right away.
But there was no answer, unless certain whisperings that I could not
understand could be considered as such. Several long nails--twenty-penny,
I was sure--were driven home. Then there was a clattering of boots and
the small boat bumped the sloop's counter again.
They were getting into their own boat. They had left me in a nice
fix--nailed up tightly in the cabin of my boat. I was mad 'way through;
instead of playing any joke on Paul Downes and his friends, they had
played me a most scurvy trick.
But it was only comedy as yet--comedy for them, at least. I was pretty
sure that they had fixed me in the cabin, not only for the night, but
until somebody passing in a boat would see me signalling from the tiny
deadlights. And goodness only knew when the gale would subside enough to
tempt any other boatman out upon the bay.
The sloop was still pitching at the end of her cable. I could feel the
tug of the moorings as my enemies got into their boat. Then--in half a
minute, perhaps--there was a startling change in the sloop's action. She
leaped like a horse struck with a whip and instantly began to roll and
swing broadside to the gale.
I knew at once what had happened. The cable had parted; the Wavecrest
was adrift!
The discovery alarmed me beyond all measure. I was panic-stricken--I
admit it. And I earnestly believe that almost any other person who had a
love of life within them would have felt the same.
For to be adrift in Bolderhead Harbor on such a night, with the wind
and tide urging one's craft out toward the broad ocean, while one was
nailed up in the cabin and unable to do a thing toward guiding the boat,
was a situation to shake the courage of the bravest sailor who ever was
afloat.
I believed I had nobody but myself to thank for the accident. In letting
out the cable by which the sloop was moored, I had increased the strain
upon it. I should have thrown out a stern anchor as well when I came
aboard the Wavecrest to spend the night. The tug of wind and tide had
been too much for the single cable.
And now my bonnie Wavecrest was swinging about, broadside to the sea,
and likely to be rolled over completely in a moment. If she turned
turtle, what would become of me? The air in the cabin was already foul.
If she turned topsyturvy, and providing she was not cast upon the rocks
and smashed, I would be in difficulty for fresh air in a very few hours.
These possibilities--and many others--passed through my mind in seconds
of time. I had no idea that one's brain could work so rapidly. A hundred
possible happenings, arising from my situation, entered my mind in
those first few moments while the Wavecrest was swinging about.
Fortunately, however, although she went far over on her beam ends, and I
expected to hear the stick snap, she righted, headed with the tide, and
began to hobble over the seas at a great rate. I had dressed completely
ere this, and was trying my best to open the cabin door. If I could get
to the centerboard and drop it, I believed the sloop would ride better
and could be steered.
Those rascals had nailed the door securely, however. The slide in the
deck above was fastened on the outside too. I was a prisoner in my own
boat and she was being swept out to sea as fast as a northwest gale and
a heavy tide could carry her.