CHAPTER XXVII
Aground
The rest of the day until four in the afternoon passed almostuneventfully. The breeze still held, but blew steadily from the samequarter with hardly a point difference in eighteen hours. With onereef in the mainsail the boat had all she could carry with comfort,and, save for an occasional fleck of foam over the weather bow, was dryand fairly fast.
The disconcerting doubt in Peter's mind was whether the boat was makinggood to wind'ard. Apparently she was, but whether the leewaycounter-balanced the distance made good, or whether the boat wasactually losing on each tack remained at present an insolvable problem.
During the greater part of the day the heat of the sun was tempered bythe cool breeze, but late in the afternoon more indigo-coloured cloudsbegan to bank up to the east'ard. The roseate hues of early morn wereabout to vindicate themselves as harbingers of boisterous weather.
"Sea-anchor again, I suppose," soliloquized the skipper of the boat."Beat and beat and beat again, then drift to lee'ard all we've made.We'll fetch somewhere some day, I expect."
He rather blamed himself for not having put the helm up directly theprevious gale had blown itself out. Running before the easterly breezewould have brought the boat within sight of the Mozambique coast beforenow. On the other hand, how was he to know that the easterly breezewould hold for so many hours? It rarely did.
"It's a gamble," he thought philosophically. "I've backed the wronghorse. I've got to see this business through."
Once more the tent was struck. This time Mrs. Shallop, who had takenpossession when Olive came out, made no audible protest. Possibly shewas too busy eating Turkish delight. In that respect she acted uponthe principle of "Never leave till to-morrow what you can eat to-day".
The sea-anchor was prepared ready to heave overboard. Loose gear wassecured, and the baler placed in a convenient spot to commenceoperations should a particularly vicious sea break into the boat.
Darkness set in. No stars were visible to mitigate the intenseblackness of the night. The candle-lamp of the boat-compass had to belighted in order to enable the helmsman to keep the craft on hercourse. Its feeble rays faintly illuminated Peter's face as hesteered. Beyond that it was impossible to distinguish anybody oranything in the boat, the bows of which were faintly silhouettedagainst the ghostly phosphorescence of the foam thrown aside by thestem.
So far there was no necessity to ride to the sea-anchor. The wind,slightly increasing in force, demanded another reef in the mainsail.No doubt the boat would have stood a whole mainsail, but Peter was toocautious and experienced to risk "cracking on" in a lightly trimmedcraft unprovided with a centreboard or even a false keel.
The two lascars were told off to tend the halliards, Mahmed stood bythe mainsheet, while Peter steered. The latter, his senses keenly onthe alert, was listening intently for the unmistakable shriek thatpresages the sweeping down of a squall. In the utter darkness thesense of hearing was the only means of guarding against being surprisedby a violent and overpowering blast of wind.
"It may not be so bad after all," he remarked to Olive, who hadinsisted on keeping by him at the tiller. "There's rain. I expectedit. Luckily it's after the wind, so the chances are we've seen theworst of it."
It was now nearly ten o'clock. The boat had been footing it strongly,since Peter had eased her off a point. The seas were high--so highthat between the crests the boat was momentarily becalmed. Yet, thanksto Mostyn's helmsmanship, she carried way splendidly, until the ascentof the on-coming crest enabled the wind-starved canvas to fill outagain.
Very soon the few heavy drops gave place to the typical tropicaldownpour. Even had it been daylight it would have been a matter ofdifficulty to see a boat's length ahead. In the darkness it seemedlike crouching under a waterfall. Breathing resulted in swallowingmouthfuls of moisture-laden air. In less than half a minute from thecommencement of the downpour, there was an inch or more of water overthe bottom-boards in spite of Mahmed's strenuous work with the baler.
Contrary to Peter's expectations, the strength of the wind did notappreciably diminish, but the rain had the effect of considerablybeating down the crests of the waves.
It was now quite impossible to hear anything beyond the heavy patter ofthe big raindrops upon the boat. It was a continuous tattoo thatoutvied the roar of the wind. At this juncture the candle of thebinnacle lamp blew out. To attempt to relight it was out of thequestion. Every part of the boat's interior was subject to a furiouseddy of wind. A match would not burn a moment.
"Hardly good enough," decided Peter, wiping the moisture from his eyes."I'll get canvas stowed and out sea-anchor till the worst of this isover."
With his disengaged hand Mostyn tapped Mahmed on the shoulder.Desisting from his task of baling, the boy looked into his master'sface.
"Tell them to stow canvas," shouted Peter, indicating the invisiblelascars crouching against the main thwart. "I'll tend the mainsheet.Look sharp!"
Mahmed raised himself and began to crawl over the thwarts on his wayfor'ard.
Suddenly there was a terrific shock. The boat seemed to jump a coupleor three feet vertically, and then come to an abrupt stop with a jarthat flung Peter from the tiller, and pitched Mahmed headlong until hewas brought up by his head coming into contact with Mrs. Shallop'sportly back. Olive, taken unawares, was jerked in a for'ard direction,until she saved herself from violent contact with stroke-bench bygrasping Peter's arm. The pair subsided upon the gratings, narrowlymissing what might have been a serious collision with the helplessPreston.
Mostyn regained his feet in double quick time, and made a grab at thetiller. The boat was aground, lifting to every wave that surgedagainst her port-bow. That she was badly damaged there could be nodoubt, since water was pouring in through a strained garboard.
Steadying himself by the now useless tiller, Peter peered anxiouslyinto the darkness. Except for the phosphorescence of the breakingwater alongside, there was nothing distinguishable. Sea and sky wereblended into a uniform and impenetrable darkness.
Everyone on board the boat, although fully aware of the immediatedanger, maintained silence. The grinding of the boat's planking uponthe sharp rocks, the howling of the wind, and the swish of the breakingwaves were the only audible sounds.
It seemed to Mostyn that, in his self-assumed position of skipper ofthe boat, he must do or say something. He did neither. He could formno sentence of encouragement; he was unable to take any action tofurther safeguard the lives and interests of his companions. He feltcool and collected, yet he had a suspicion that he "had the wind up".Try as he would his benumbed brain would not answer to his efforts.
It was Preston who broke the spell. Lying half-submerged in water, theActing Chief was taking things calmly in spite of his physicaldisability.
"Sparks, old man," he exclaimed, "you look like losing your ticket. Ido believe you've run us aground."
The silence was broken. Peter laughed at his companion's quip.
"We were making for land," he replied, "and now we've jolly well foundit. Get out the rockets, Mahmed."
Mahmed had delivered Mostyn's order to the lascars. Already the sailhad been hastily lowered. Its folds served as a screen to break theforce of the wind, nevertheless, it was a difficult matter to keep amatch alight sufficiently long to ignite the touch-paper of the rocket.
"Cheap and false economy, these things," thought Peter, as he wastedthree matches in a vain attempt to kindle the touch-paper. "Why didn'tthe owners supply Verey pistols to all the boats?"
At length the fuse began to sizzle. An anxious fifteen seconds ensued.More than once the minute sparks looked as though they had given out,only to reappear with a healthier glow.
Then with a swish the rocket soared skywards, although with an erraticmovement as it was caught and tossed about by the wind.
Mostyn made no attempt to follow its course with his eyes. Holding ahand to his brows he gazed in the direction in whic
h he expected to seeland.
A vivid glare overhead, as the rocket threw out a series of bluestar-shells, revealed what he wanted to know. Eighty or a hundredyards ahead was a line of cliff, fronted by a gently shelving stretchof sand. The boat had struck on the apex of a reef. She was neitheron a lee nor a weather shore, but rather on the dividing line of each.
"Good enough," shouted Peter encouragingly. "Light the lantern,Mahmed."
The boy succeeded in getting the lamp alight. Even its feeble glimmerput a different complexion upon things.
Beckoning the lascars aft, Mostyn sent one of them back again to bendthe warp to the anchor and throw the latter overboard, in case thebadly damaged boat should be washed off the reef.
This done, the question arose: how were the women and Preston to betaken ashore?
"Take Mr. Preston," said Olive. "I can walk."
"Easy enough if it's shoal water right up to the beach, Miss Baird,"rejoined Peter, "That we'll have to find out. I think I'll rope youtogether."
Preparations for abandoning the boat having been completed, Peter ledthe way, holding aloft the lantern. Behind him came the two lascars,carrying the helpless Acting Chief. Olive followed, helping Mahmed toassist Mrs. Shallop, who was uttering unheeded complaints abouteverybody and everything. To guard against the possibility of any ofthe party being swept away by the undertow, the halliards had beenunrove and were used as a life-line.
It was not an easy passage. The rocks were of coral and irregular inshape, with fairly deep fissures and sharp, jagged crags. Over theseledges the breakers surged, throwing clouds of spray twenty feet ormore into the air.
Sounding with the boathook Peter proceeded warily. At frequentintervals he was waist-deep in water. Impeded by the drag of thelife-line, half suffocated by the salt-laden spray, and constantlyslipping on the kelp-covered rocks, he held on his way, wondering howthe others fared, until he gained the dry sand.
The lascars had risen nobly to the occasion. Their solicitude towardstheir disabled officer was so great that Preston felt very littlediscomfort. Uncomplainingly they had endured torments from the sharprocks, that had cut their light footwear almost to ribbons.
Olive Baird had made light of her part of the business, although bothshe and Mahmed had their work cut out to half drag, half carry theportly figure entrusted to their care. Mrs. Shallop seemed utterlyindifferent to the danger and inconvenience of the passage ashore. Herchief anxiety, expressed in peevish accents, was regarding the loss ofher "valuable" diamond, which might either be in the boat or elsewashed through the gaping seams into the trackless waste of sand.
With feelings of thankfulness Peter marshalled his flock under the leeof the cliffs. A hasty examination by means of the lantern resulted inthe discovery that the beach was well above high-water mark, so thatthere was no necessity to undertake the hazardous task of scaling thecliffs in the darkness.
"Where are we, do you think, Peter?" asked Olive. She had dropped the"Mister" quite naturally, since Mostyn had declared his intention ofseeing her home.
"Somewhere in Madagascar," replied Peter. "Where, exactly, I have noidea. We'll probably find out from the first natives we come across."
"Are they savages?"
"Hardly. They used to be half civilized only a few years ago, Ibelieve," replied Peter. "Thanks to the beneficent efforts of theFrench Government, when Madagascar became a dependency of France, theyare now orderly and well conducted. Excuse me, Miss Baird, but thereare one or two things I have to see to."
Calling to the two lascars, and bidding Mahmed stay with the rest ofthe party, Peter took the lantern and walked to the water's edge. Thetide was fast receding, and most of the ledge was above the water.
Satisfied on this score Mostyn made his way back to the boat, thelascars following. Apparently the stranding had occurred at the top ofhigh water, and the wrecked craft was now perched upon a jagged ledgeof coral. She had not altered her position, except for lying well overon her port bilge keel.
In a few minutes the boat was stripped of every piece of movable gear.Twice the salvage party returned to the boat, until nothing was leftbut the bare hull.
Work for the night was not yet over. By the aid of the masts, sails,and spars, four tents were rigged up under the lee of the cliffs, and afire was made with the dry kelp and driftwood, augmented by a fewdetached planks from the boat. A double ration of biscuit and waterwas served all round, followed by cigarettes for the men and Turkishdelight for Mrs. Shallop and Olive. The last commodity came entirelyfrom the latter's share, since the naval officer's daughter had alreadyeaten hers. Yet without the faintest compunction, and looking uponOlive's generosity as a right, the worthless woman had no hesitation inasking her former paid companion for more.
"I'll buy some at the first shop we see," she added, as if Africa'slargest island was a hot-bed of up-to-date confectionery stores.
To this the girl made no reply. In fact, she had hardly heeded thefatuous remark. Gazing into the comforting glow of the fire, she wasdeep in thought as to what the future held in store for the handful ofsurvivors from the S.S. _West Barbican_.