CHAPTER XX
The Voyage
Within two minutes Burgoyne was sleeping the sleep of sheerexhaustion, nor did he awake until the slanting rays of the earlymorning sun shone in his face, as the boat heeled to the now beamwind.
"You're a bright one, Mostyn," he exclaimed, as he stretched hiscramped limbs. "Do you call this two hours?"
"I didn't like turning you out," replied the Wireless Officer. "Afterall, I've had quite a soft time. Only had to trim the sheet once, andshe carries just the right amount of weather helm."
Balancing himself on the after thwart Alwyn scanned the horizon. Allaround sky and sea met in an unbroken line. Neither land nor vesselof any description was in sight. Satisfied on that score the ThirdOfficer took stock of the boat. Underneath the tent Hilda Vivian wassleeping soundly. Her regular breathing was sufficient evidence toprove that.
Curled up athwartships, with his head pillowed on one of the canvaswater-tanks--for which there had been no need in their originalrôle--was Jasper Minalto, snoring like a young bull. He, too, hadscarcely stirred for the last four hours.
"Let him stop," said Burgoyne. "I'll take on now. You might get outsome grub before you turn in, and there are some tin mugs in theafter locker."
"I brought along some lime-juice," announced Mostyn. "Holmes told meI could have it, and it may come in jolly useful. Branscombe lowereda dozen coco-nuts over the cliff and stowed those on board, too; sowe shall be able to have some sort of variety. What's the menu? Bullyand biscuits?"
The two men ate their first meal on board with evident relish; thenMostyn turned in, leaving Burgoyne at the helm.
It was a glorious day. As the sun gathered strength its warm raysbrought comfort to the helmsman. For the first time for nearly twentyhours his comparatively thin clothing was dry, and his cramped limbsregained their usual suppleness.
"Things might be a jolly sight worse," he soliloquized. "We're clearof the island and no sign of any craft in pursuit. The breeze is fairand steady, we've a reasonable amount of grub in the locker, and astaunch little craft for the trip. I wonder what the others aredoing, and whether Strogoff and his bravos are cutting up rough?"
In about half an hour after Burgoyne had resumed the "stick" Minaltostirred himself, and sat up with a look of wonderment on his face,sniffing the morning air with deep appreciation.
"Eh, sir!" he exclaimed. "I've just had a wonderful dream. We wurhavin' fried bacon, an' taters an' all. I could smell 'en, real asanythin'-like, an' it doesn't haf smell good."
"'Fraid that's as far as you'll get just now," replied Alwyn with alaugh. "Come on! Biscuits and bully is our mark."
He glanced at the well-filled foresail and then to windward.
"May as well get the rest of the canvas set," he remarked. "Thebreeze is moderating a bit."
Lashing the helm the Third Officer assisted Minalto in the task ofhoisting the standing lug. Before this was accomplished Hilda,disturbed by the noise, awoke and crawled from under the awning.
"Good morning!" she exclaimed.
"Mornin' to you, young Teddy," replied Jasper, touching his trailingforelock, while Alwyn removed his cap from his shock of tousled hair.
"Young Bill's shaved this morning," she continued with a disarmingsmile. "I'm sorry to have to say that Mr. Burgoyne has not."
"I thought I once heard you remark," rejoined Alwyn, "that you wererather partial to beards!"
"Yes, torpedo beards, tawny for preference," admitted the girl.
The Third Officer complacently stroked the stubbly growth of hairthat completely hid his cheeks and chin.
"For the matter of that," he observed, "a pair of scissors will dothe trick when we get back to civilization."
"But your beard is red, not tawny," countered Hilda laughingly. "Butdon't worry about that, Mr. Burgoyne. I think I prefer you as youwere on board the _Donibristle_--clean-shaven. That is from anappearance point of view. Just now you look a bit of a ruffian, butyou're splendid. I shall never be able to thank you sufficiently forall the danger you have gone through--and the others as well, ofcourse--to get me away from the island."
"It's jolly good of you to say that, Miss Vivian," said Alwyn. "We'vegot you clear of the island, it's true, but we are by no means out ofthe wood yet. Now: ready for something to eat?"
Telling Minalto to take the tiller Alwyn prepared the girl'sbreakfast. In the absence of a knife or a tin-opener the bully-beeftin had to be battered open with a rowlock, since, as is almostinvariably the case, the patent opener provided failed utterly in itspredestined mission. The biscuits, too, had long lost theircrispness, and the water, notwithstanding the addition of a smallquantity of lime-juice, was decidedly "cloudy" owing to thecontinuous motion of the boat. In default of a plate the beef had tobe spread out on a piece of canvas which Burgoyne had washed bytrailing over the side; while a total deficiency of cutlery resultedin the application of nature's knives and forks.
Yet Hilda enjoyed the rough-and-ready repast. She was naturally ahigh-spirited girl, passionately fond of an open-air life, and thenovelty of the situation appealed to her. Burgoyne thought she lookedthe picture of health, with her finely-modelled features, of richbronze hue by reason of exposure to the sun and rain, herclosely-bobbed hair, and her mirth-loving eyes. Even her presentcostume suited her, the canvas jumper and the battered straw hatsetting off to perfection her slim figure and the naturally gracefulpoise of her head.
For the four or five hours all went well with the Argonauts, butabout midday the breeze died utterly away and the boat drifted idlywith her sails drooping listlessly from the yards. The heat wasterrific. Almost overhead the sun blazed down mercilessly, while thereflected rays from the mirror-like ocean seemed almost as hot as thesunshine itself.
With the paint blistering and the woodwork too hot to touchcomfortably the boat was like a small furnace. Even the water left inthe lands and bilges quickly disappeared, throwing out anoxious-smelling vapour.
Leaving one man to keep watch, the rest of the crew sat underhastily-devised awnings over which salt water was frequently pouredin the hope that the rapid evaporation would lower the temperatureunder the canvas. Sleep was an impossibility; speech became a matterof difficulty, for even frequent small draughts of water failed tokeep their throats from being parched and dry. Sweltering in theenervating heat they existed listlessly, their jangled nerves stillfurther jarred by the monotonous slatting of the canvas and thesteady thud of the yards against the gently-swaying masts.
Suddenly Mostyn, whose turn it was to keep a lookout, startled theothers by shouting:
"Land ahead!"
Shaking off his lethargy Burgoyne emerged from under the awning. Forsome reason he could see nothing but a red mist that swam in front ofhis eyes.
"Where away?" he inquired.
"Right ahead," repeated the Wireless Officer, rather astonished thatAlwyn could not see what was only too clear to him: a dark linealmost on the horizon.
"Land!" exclaimed Burgoyne, his normal vision returning. "That's notland, old son. It's a breeze ruffling the water, and pretty strong,too. We'll have it in a few minutes--and dead in our teeth, worseluck."
Aided by Minalto, Burgoyne quickly stowed the awning, then castingloose both sheets he awaited rather anxiously the approach of thebreeze.
"Looks more like a squall," he said, half to himself. Then raisinghis voice he continued: "Stow the mizzen. Mostyn, you stand by thefore halliard, and douse the sail in a brace of shakes if I give theword."
Soon there was no doubt about the nature of the approaching wind. Itwas a white squall--one of those dangerous puffs, often attaining astrength of from forty to sixty miles an hour, that swoop down withdevastating effect upon the vessel whose careless look-out hasallowed it to take him unawares.
"Down foresail!" shouted Burgoyne. "We'll have to ride to asea-anchor."
Abandoning the useless tiller, which Mostyn had already yielded tohim, Alwyn sprang forward to assist the rest of the crew in preparing
a floating breakwater to which the boat could with safety ride to thewind and waves. Quickly the kedge was attached to the clew of thesail, a span bent to the yard and at its centre the whole scope ofthe boat's painter with an additional length of rope.
In desperate haste the whole contraption was hove overboard. The yardand sail, weighed down by the kedge, sank like a stone.
The next instant, with a weird, almost blood-curdling shriek, thesquall burst. In an instant the hitherto placid surface of the oceanwas lashed into an expanse of white foam.
Caught fairly on the broadside the life-boat was knee deep in waterbefore she took up the strain of the sea-anchor. Then riding to atautened cable she swung round bows on to the now threateningbreakers.
The three men baled desperately. Hilda, too, realizing the importanceof freeing the boat from water, plied an empty bully-beef tinvigorously. Her straw hat had been whisked off, although Mostyn hadcaught it as it swept to leeward; her short locks were streaming inthe wind, spray lashed her face like the sting of a whip, yet in thewild display of Nature's elements her faith in the prowess and skillof the three men was undiminished. Without a trace of fear she wastoiling, not because she thought she was in danger, but because sheknew she could be of assistance to her companions.
In ten minutes the worst was over. The wind dropped considerably, andthough the waves were not running exactly mountains high, they hadquite a menacing appearance. Yet the sea-anchor, which was now only afew feet below the surface, and fifty yards ahead of the boat, brokethe angry seas in a way that imparted confidence to all hands.
It was an hour later before Burgoyne thought it prudent to rehoistsail. The mizzen, close-reefed, was first hoisted and sheeted home.Then the foresail got inboard, single-reefed and set. The boat's headfell away, then gathering way she darted buoyantly over the long,crested waves.
Contrary to Alwyn's expectations the wind had neither veered norbacked. It blew strongly from the same quarter, which meant that forevery mile made good the boat had to sail thrice that distance.
For the rest of the day they sailed close-hauled, tacking at the endof every hour. All three men knew how to get the best out of theboat, keeping her sufficiently full to allow the canvas to draw well.
Sunset came with every indication of bad weather. The sun sank behinda bank of copper-coloured clouds, while the sky resembled whatMinalto described as a "basin o' pea-soup".
"We're in for it, I think," remarked Burgoyne to Mostyn. "I thinkwe'd better close reef the foresail while it's light. Then you takefirst watch--two hours only this time, mind; I'll take the next, andMinalto carries on after me. That will give you four hours' sleep."
"Right-o," agreed Mostyn, preparing to go for'ard with Minalto toreduce canvas still further. "Go about at the end of each watch, Isuppose?"
"Yes," agreed Alwyn, "unless, of course, it's blowing too hard forone hand to dip the sail. In that case it'll be all hands 'boutship."
At about nine o'clock Burgoyne awoke and relieved the WirelessOfficer at the helm. During a lull in the wind the manoeuvre ofputting the boat on the port tack was a fairly simple one.
Left to himself the Third Officer steered by the wind, occasionallychecking his course by means of his pocket compass. It was now pitchdark, not a star was visible. Very soon it began to rain--big dropsthat borne by the stiff breeze rattled with considerable forceagainst the helmsman's face. Spray he could and did endure withequanimity; in fact he rather revelled in the salt-laden showers, butBurgoyne had the deep-sea man's rooted objection to rain.
Pulling the peak of his disreputable cap well down over the left sideof his face and drawing a piece of painted canvas over his shoulders,Alwyn settled down to make the best of things.
His trick was almost done when it suddenly occurred to him that theseas were no longer regular; in fact the boat was entering a patch ofconfused water.
Thinking it was a sudden shift of wind that accounted for the nastycross seas Burgoyne glanced at his compass. The wind had backed; apoint, perhaps, not more; and that was not sufficient to justify theagitation of the water.
He glanced to leeward. Above the howling of the wind his ear caughtthe unmistakable sound of surf. Not only abeam but ahead a line ofmilky foam warned him of the peril that threatened. The boat,close-reefed, was driving to leeward, and was already within twohundred yards of one of those dangerous coral reefs with whichcertain parts of the Pacific Ocean are studded.
"All hands!" he shouted. "Stand by and 'bout ship."