IV
TOM FIGHTS IT OUT
FORTUNATELY there was a breeze, rather light but sufficient, when thesun rose next morning. The _Hunkydory_ was cast off and, with Cal atthe tiller, her sails filled, she heeled over and “slid on her side,”as Tom described it, out of the Ashley River and on down the harborwhere the wind was so much fresher that all the ship’s company had tobrace themselves up against the windward gunwale, making live ballastof themselves.
The course was a frequently changing one, because the Rutledge boyswanted their guests to pass near all the points of interest, and alsobecause they wanted Dick Wentworth, who was the most expert sailorin the company, to study the boat’s sailing peculiarities. To thatend Dick went to the helm as soon as the wind freshened, and whilefollowing in a general way the sight-seeing course suggested by theRutledges, he made many brief departures from it in order to test thisor that peculiarity of the boat, for, as Larry explained to Tom,“Every sailing craft has ways of her own, and you want to know whatthey are.”
After an hour of experiment, Dick said:
“We’ll have to get some sand bags somewhere. We need more ballast,especially around the mast. As she is, she shakes her head too much andis inclined to slew off to leeward.”
“Let me take the tiller, then, and we’ll get what we need,” answeredLarry, going to the helm.
“Where?”
“At Fort Sumter. I know the officer in command there—in fact, he’s anintimate friend of our family,—and he’ll provide us with what we need.How much do you think?”
“About three hundred pounds—in fifty pound bags for distribution. Twohundred might do, but three hundred won’t be too much, I think, and ifit is we can empty out the surplus.”
“How on earth can you tell a thing like that by mere guess work, Dick?”queried Tom in astonishment.
“It isn’t mere guess work,” said Dick. “In fact, it isn’t guess work atall.”
“What is it, then?”
“Experience and observation. You see, I’ve sailed many dories,Tom, and I’ve studied the behavior of boats under mighty good seaschoolmasters—the Gloucester fishermen—and so with a little feelingof a boat in a wind I can judge pretty accurately what she needs in theway of ballast, just as anybody who has sailed a boat much, can judgehow much wind to take and how much to spill.”
“I’d like to learn something about sailing if I could,” said Tom.
“You can and you shall,” broke in Cal. “Dick will teach you on thistrip, and Larry and I will act as his subordinate instructors, so thatbefore we get back from our wanderings you shall know how to handle aboat as well as we do; that is to say, if you don’t manage to send usall to Davy Jones during your apprenticeship. There’s a chance of that,but we’ll take the risk.”
“Yes, and there’s no better time to begin than right now,” said Dick.“That’s a ticklish landing Larry is about to make at Fort Sumter. Watchit closely and see just how he does it. Making a landing is the mostdifficult and dangerous thing one has to do in sailing.”
“Yes,” said Cal; “it’s like leaving off when you find you’re talkingtoo much. It’s hard to do.”
The little company tarried at the fort only long enough for thesoldiers to make and fill six canvas sand bags. When they were afloatagain and Dick had tested the bestowal of the ballast, he suggestedthat Tom should take his first lesson at the tiller. Sitting closebeside him, the more expert youth directed him minutely until, afterperhaps an hour of instruction, during which Dick so chose his coursesas to give the novice both windward work and running to do, Tom couldreally make a fair showing in handling the sails and the rudder. Hewas still a trifle clumsy at the work and often somewhat unready anduncertain in his movements, but Dick pronounced him an apt scholar, andpredicted his quick success in learning the art.
They were nearing the mouth of the harbor when Dick deemed it bestto suspend the lesson and handle the boat himself. The wind hadfreshened still further, and a lumpy sea was coming in over the bar,so that while there was no danger to a boat properly handled, a littleclumsiness might easily work mischief.
The boys were delighted with the behavior of the craft and weregleefully commenting on it when Larry observed that Tom, instead ofbracing himself against the gunwale, was sitting limply on the bottom,with a face as white as the newly made sail.
“I say, boys, Tom’s seasick,” he called out. “We’d better put aboutand run in under the lee of Morris Island.”
“No, don’t,” answered Tom, feebly. “I’m not going to be a spoil-sport,and I’ll fight this thing out. If I could only throw up my boots, I’dbe all right. I’m sure it’s my boots that sit so heavily on my stomach.”
“Good for you, Tom,” said Larry, “but we’ll run into stiller watersanyhow. We don’t want you to suffer. If you were rid of this, I’d—”
He hesitated, and didn’t finish his sentence.
“What is it you’d do if I weren’t playing the baby this way?”
“Oh, it’s all right.”
“No, it isn’t,” protested Tom, feeling his seasickness less because ofhis determination to contest the point. “What is it you’d do? You shalldo it anyhow. If you don’t, I’ll jump overboard. I tell you I’m nospoil-sport and I’m no whining baby to be coddled either. Tell me whatyou had in mind.”
“Oh, it was only a sudden thought, and probably a foolish one. I wasseized with an insane desire to give the _Hunkydory_ a fair chance toshow what stuff she’s made of by running outside down the coast to themouth of Stono Inlet, instead of going back and making our way throughWappoo creek.”
“Do it! Do it!” cried Tom, dragging himself up to his former posture.“If you don’t do it I’ll quit the expedition and go home to be put intopinafores again.”
“You’re a brick, Tom, and you shan’t be humiliated. We’ll make theoutside trip. It won’t take very long, and maybe you’ll get over theworst of your sickness when we get outside.”
“If I don’t I’ll just grin and bear it,” answered Tom resolutely.
As the boat cleared the harbor and headed south, the sea grew muchcalmer, though the breeze continued as before. It was the choking ofthe channel that had made the water so “lumpy” at the harbor’s mouth.Tom was the first to observe the relief, and before the dory slippedinto the calm waters of Stono Inlet he had only a trifling nausea toremind him of his suffering.
“This is the fulfillment of prophecy number one,” he said to Cal, whilethey were yet outside.
“What is?”
“Why this way of getting into Stono Inlet. You said our programme waslikely to be ‘changed without notice,’ and this is the first change.You know it’s nearly always so. People very rarely carry out theirplans exactly.”
“I suppose not,” interrupted Larry as the Stono entrance was made,“but I’ve a plan in mind that we’ll carry out just as I’ve made it, andthat not very long hence, either.”
“What is it, Larry?”
“Why to pick out a fit place for landing, go ashore, build a fire, andhave supper. Does it occur to you that we had breakfast at daylight andthat we’ve not had a bite to eat since, though it is nearly sunset?”
As he spoke, a bend of the shore line cut off what little breeze therewas, the sail flapped and the dory moved only with the tide.
“Lower away the sail,” he called to Cal and Dick, at the same timehauling the boom inboard. “We must use the oars in making a landing,and I see the place. We’ll camp for the night on the bluff just ahead.”
“Bluff?” asked Tom, scanning the shore. “I don’t see any bluff.”
“Why there—straight ahead, and not five hundred yards away.”
“Do you call that a bluff? Why, it isn’t three feet higher than thelow-lying land all around it.”
“After you’ve been a month on this coast,” said Cal, pulling at an oar,“you’ll learn that after all, terms are purely relative as expressionsof human thought. We call that a bluff because it fronts th
e waterand is three feet higher than the general lay of the land. Therearen’t many places down here that can boast so great a superiority totheir surroundings. An elevation of ten feet we’d call high. It is allcomparative.”
“Well, my appetite isn’t comparative, at any rate,” said Tom. “It’sboth positive and superlative.”
“The usual sequel to an attack of seasickness, and I assure you—”
Cal never finished his assurance, whatever it was, for at that momentthe boat made her landing, and Larry, who acted as commander of theexpedition, quickly had everybody at work. The boat was to be securedso that the rise and fall of the tide would do her no harm; wood was tobe gathered, a fire built and coffee made.
“And I am going out to see if I can’t get a few squirrels for supper,while you fellows get some oysters and catch a few crabs if you can.Oh, no, that’s too slow work. Take the cast net, Cal, and get a gallonor so of shrimps, in case I don’t find any squirrels.”
“I can save you some trouble and disappointment on that score,” saidCal, “by telling you now that you’ll get no squirrels and no game ofany other kind, unless perhaps you sprain your ankle or something andget a game leg.”
“But why not? How do you know?”
“We’re too close to Charleston. The pot-hunters haven’t left so much asa ground squirrel in these woods. I have been all over them and so Iknow. Better take the cartridges out of your gun and try for some fish.The tide’s right and you’ve an hour to do it in.”
Larry accepted the suggestion, and rowing the dory to a promising spot,secured a dozen whiting within half the time at disposal.
Supper was eaten with that keen enjoyment which only a camping mealever gives, and with a crackling fire to stir enthusiasm, the boyssat for hours telling stories and listening to Dick’s account of hisfishing trips along the northern shores, and his one summer’s campingin the Maine woods.