OVERBOARD
THE _Thetis_, although out of immediate danger, was in a pitiable
plight. The wind was still fresh and the sea had worked up into
quite a nasty turmoil. The damaged jib had already been lowered and
unshackled from the traveller, but the jackyard topsail still
fluttered bannerwise from the mainmast head. The torn mainsail, too,
was shaking violently as the wind whistled through the long rent in
the centre cloth.
"We'll have to get that topsail down," declared Mr. Clifton. "I'll
go aloft. Stand from under, Peter."
If the truth be told, Mr. Clifton did not feel any too confident
over the job. Active enough in most respects, he did not relish work
aloft. On previous occasions his paid hand undertook tasks of that
description. Yet he was quite ready to essay the work of sending the
obstinate topsail down on deck.
"I'll go, sir," volunteered Peter.
Mr. Clifton looked very pleased, but the next moment he realised
that the job was a dangerous one.
"I'm used to going aloft," continued Craddock. "Am I not, Mr.
Grant?"
Scoutmaster Grant, who had relieved the owner at the helm, nodded
assent.
"He's as active as a monkey, Clifton. Up you go, Peter!"
The Sea Scout needed no second bidding. Grasping the main halliards
and using the mast-hoops as footholds he nimbly ascended to the
cross-trees. There he paused to decide upon a further course of
action.
It was far from comfortable. Although, as Peter had declared, he was
used to going aloft, the conditions were very different from those
he had previously encountered. The violent motion of the yacht was
considerably exaggerated at a height of thirty feet above the deck,
whilst the fiercely flogging mainsail threatened to sweep the Sea
Scout from his precarious position.
Shinning up the bare pole above the cross-trees Peter made the
discovery that the topsail halliard had "jumped" the block and was
wedged tightly between it and the sheave.
At present there was only one thing to be done. Drawing his sheath
knife he cut the rope. The topsail yard dropped, and before
Craddock could regain the deck the sail was lowered and secured by
Mr. Grant.
{Illustration: "THE FIERCELY FLOGGING MAINSAIL THREATENED TO SWEEP
THE SEA SCOUT FROM HIS PRECARIOUS POSITION."
[_P_. 150}
"Well done, Peter!" exclaimed both men as Craddock, breathless with
his exertions, rejoined them.
"Had to cut it, sir," declared the Sea Scout apologetically.
"Only what I expected," rejoined Mr. Clifton. "Take the helm while
we lower the mizzen topsail and mainsail. Keep her jogging along,
Peter."
Still further reducing canvas occupied the next ten minutes. The
_Thetis_, under staysail and mizzen, was now doing a bare three
knots, while to make matters worse the wind had veered and was now
dead against her.
"Not much chance of making Mapplewick before dark," commented Mr.
Grant.
"No, but we must carry on," added his companion. "There's no harbour
we can make for nearer than Winkhaven, and I don't want to retrace
our course all that way."
"She'll make a bad performance to wind'ard without the mainsail,"
remarked the Scoutmaster. "The best thing we can do is to patch the
canvas and trust to luck that it will hold."
"Our belated meal first," decided the owner. "We'll heave-to for
half an hour."
Once more the stove was lighted, and presently the famished crew was
enjoying a hearty meal, in spite of the disordered state of the
yacht below and aloft.
The plain but satisfying repast over, the _Thetis_ was put on her
course again, and Mr. Grant and Peter tackled the torn mainsail.
This they temporarily repaired by joining the rent edges by
herring-bone stitching, putting on in addition a patch of canvas cut
from the damaged jib.
This done, the mainsail was reefed and then rehoisted. The spitfire
jib was then set and the _Thetis_ increased her speed to a good five
knots, lying a point closer to the wind than before.
By this time it was within an hour of sunset. The wind was still
moderating and had veered another couple of points, so that it was
possible to set a course to pass within five miles of Mapplewick
before going about.
Nevertheless, it seemed very unlikely that the _Thetis_ would make
her port before dawn, since the harbour was a tidal one and could
only be entered between half flood and half ebb.
At length darkness set in. The port and starboard lamps were lit and
the electric lamp of the binnacle switched on. The breeze still
held, but there seemed every prospect of another calm before very
long.
At eleven o'clock the occulting light on Probert Head became
visible, bearing a point on the starboard bow. Mapplewick Harbour
lay in a bay three miles beyond the head.
"More grub," decided the skipper. "Peter, if you will take the helm
for a spell we'll get our supper. Then you can have yours and turn
in."
"I'm not sleepy, sir," protested Craddock.
"You will be," said Mr. Clifton. "A few hours' rest will do you
good. Keep her as she is, she'll almost sail herself. Shout if you
sight anything."
The two men went below, leaving Craddock in charge of the deck.
"That youngster's proved himself a brick!" declared Mr. Clifton
warmly. "You ought to be proud of him, Grant."
"I am," agreed the Scoutmaster, as he started up the stove.
"Curiously enough, he'd hardly been afloat before he joined the
troop, but he seemed to tumble to things naturally. His father is a
farmer in a fairly big way. His grandfather was also a farmer, so it
seems strange that the boy should suddenly develop a real
sailorman's instincts."
"Possibly if you traced further back you'd find that he had an
ancestor who was a pirate, smuggler or merchant adventurer,"
suggested Mr. Clifton. "The seafaring strain must have skipped
several generations and suddenly developed in young Craddock.
Sailors are born, not made, you know."
They conversed in loud tones, for the buzzing of the Primus stove
and the thud of the waves against the yacht's weather bow rendered
conversation in an ordinary tone inaudible.
Once Rex stirred himself and gazed intently through the companion
into the dark night, but the action was unnoticed by either of the
two men. Apparently satisfied the sheep-dog stretched himself at
full length on one of the bunks.
"Kettle's boiling," announced Mr. Clifton, opening the valve of the
stove. "Pass along the teapot, please."
The roar of the stove died away.
The two men sat down to the hurried meal.
Happening to glance upwards at the tell-tale compass in the roof of
the deckhouse, Mr. Grant gave an exclamation of surprise.
"Hello!" he remarked. "What's Peter doing--dozing? We're four points
off our course."
"All right, Peter?" shouted Mr. Clifton.
There was no response.
"Asleep on duty," continued the skipper of the _Thetis_ jokingly.
Then louder: "Peter! Wake up! You're letting her shake!"
Still there was no reply.
The two men exchanged glances. Each read on the other's face an
unspoken fear. Simultaneously they made for the companion-ladder,
colliding in their frantic rush on deck. Coming directly from the
brilliantly-lighted saloon, they could see nothing at first, save
the faint gleam of the binnacle lamp. That, they knew, ought to be
playing upon the figure of the helmsman. It did not, merely
flickering upon the gently flapping mizzen.
"Peter!" shouted the Scoutmaster, vainly hoping that Craddock might
have gone for'ard.
"'Fraid he's fallen overboard!" exclaimed Mr. Clifton. "Haul on the
mizzen-sheet, Grant. We'll put about. He can't have gone very long."
The owner of the _Thetis_ put the helm hard over. The Scoutmaster
fumbled for the mizzen-sheet. Only a few feet remained, one end
frayed like a small mop-head.
As the yacht swung head to wind before falling off on the other
tack, Mr. Grant secured the swaying mizzen-boom, then going for'ard
and steadying himself by the fore-stay he peered through the
darkness, shouting at intervals in the hope of hearing a response
from the lost Sea Scout.
It was a hopeless task. Both men realised the extreme unlikeliness
of the yacht retracing her course. All they could do was to make
short tacks, in the hope that by so doing they might pass within
hailing distance.
"He's a good swimmer," declared Mr. Grant.
"Ten miles from the nearest land," rejoined his companion gloomily.
"Might have got a crack on the head as he went overboard. I was a
fool to let him remain on deck alone."
"I'm more to blame," declared Mr. Grant. "But settling the
responsibility will not find him. Ahoy!" he hailed for the twentieth
time.
There was not even a mocking echo in reply. The waste of darkened
water, where no doubt Peter was still swimming for dear life, was an
impenetrable veil. For a distance of twenty yards or so the red and
green navigation lamps threw their coloured rays upon the water.
Beyond that sea and sky were merged into a wall of utter darkness.
All the rest of that long night the _Thetis_ cruised round the spot
where it was supposed the yacht had been when the catastrophe
occurred; then with the first streaks of red dawn in the eastern sky
the _Thetis_ bore up for Mapplewick.