CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
A TERRIBLE JOURNEY.
Bailing a boat is like most other things, it has to be learned, and itis a puzzling thing to grasp the meaning of the way in which it seems toact.
To sit and hold the rudder and go right away with the wind dead asternis not so difficult, but to try and sail a boat with the wind almost inyour teeth, is, at the first time of asking, rather a strain upon theunaccustomed mind. The first thing which Max discovered was that, assoon as the sail was up, the boat seemed to try to take, so to speak,the bit in its teeth and run off to the north; the next, that he held inthe tiller whip, spur, reins, everything for governing thisstrangely-mobile creature, and at the hint from Kenneth he had changedits course.
But now, as it could not go north, the boat seemed to be trying to godue east, and, with the sail well filled and careening over, sheliterally rushed through the water, which sparkled in her wake.
"But he said I must tack," thought Max. "Why not try and sail straightaway?"
He tried to do this by turning the tiller more and more, but as he didso the speed of the boat grew less and less, and finally she stoodstill, with the sail shivering, and when he gave the sheet a shake, thesail gradually filled on the other side; the boat's head swung round,and he found that he was rushing due west, straight for the cliff uponwhich Kenneth and Scoodrach were watching his course.
For a few moments Max lost his head--metaphorically, of course, and notCarlistically. He sat, tiller in hand, gazing aghast at the great wallof rock with the rugged _debris_ of fallen masses at the bottom, uponwhich in a very few minutes the boat would rush with a sharp crash, andthen, mistily and in a chaotic manner, he realised that there would be aminiature wreck, similar on a small scale to those of which he had sooften read in the papers.
"What shall I do?" he gasped; and he gazed away to the right, at wherehe could see the two boys upon their shelf, too far away for theirvoices to be heard.
There was no help or advice to be had, so he was thrown back upon hisown brain for the very best help there is in the world--self-help; and,making a bold grasp, as it was hovering in a mist, he caught his losthead again, and held it tightly.
As he did this, he recalled that he held the guiding principle of theboat in his hand, pressed the tiller hard, and, to his great delight,the little vessel made a beautiful curve, ran right up in the wind, thesail flapped and shivered, there came a puff of wind that seemed to bereflected from the tall cliff, the sail filled on the other side, theboat careened over, and away he was rushing right merrily again.
It was none too soon, for, as the boat curved round, he was within fortyyards of some black rocks, whose weed-hung heads were just level withthe water.
But in those few minutes he had gained one splendid bit of experience inthe management of a boat, namely, that he had but to keep his head andbe cool, and then he could guide the craft wherever he pleased.
His spirits rose at this, as the little vessel glided rapidly on, nowtoward the west, and he knew that when he was close to the far side ofthe loch he had but to reverse the action with the rudder, and turn andcome back.
There was a beautiful breeze, and he span along, his face flushed, eyessparkling, and his heart beating fast with excitement. It was mostenjoyable. He could manage the boat,--so he thought,--but by degrees hebegan to grasp the fact that if he kept on he would be going to and froover the same water, and he wanted to go due south, and not east andwest.
Then came back what Kenneth had said about tacking, and by degrees hemore fully mastered what he had to learn, namely, that he must use therudder, and force the boat to go south-east instead of east, and, inreturning, south-west instead of west, so as to cross and recross theloch diagonally, or in a zigzag course, so that at each tack he would befarther south.
To his great delight, he found, by keeping a firm hand upon the rudder,he could do this, but it proved to be such slow work that he began toexperimentalise a little more, and, instead of sailing south-east andsouth-west, he contrived to keep the boat's head so that he sailedsouth-south-east and south-south-west. Later on, when with the twolads, and Scoodrach at the tiller, he found that, had he known, he couldhave made more southing each tack, for the little boat could sailwonderfully close to the wind.
It was still slow work to one who was effervescing with eagerness toreach Dunroe and obtain help, and over and over again, as the distanceseemed so long, Max shivered with dread lest he should have overshot themark and passed the place.
It seemed impossible that they could have gone so far. But no; therewas the castle which they had passed on the right, and there was theother that they had glided by on the left--now, of course, with thepositions reversed. So, gaining confidence, and feeling wonderfullyself-satisfied at the way he could sail a boat, he sped on.
Fortunately for him, the breeze was just perfect and as steady as couldbe, and he knew nothing of the risks to which he was exposed. He sailedon by narrow gorge and ravine--openings in the great hills--in profoundignorance of the fact that through any of these a violent squall of windmight come with a whistle and shriek, catch the sail and lay it flatupon the water, while the boat filled and went down.
Then, too, he was happily ignorant of the sets of the tide and the wildcurrents which raced through some of the channels, and of the hundredsof rocks which lay below the surface, ready to catch the keel or ripopen the thin planks of a boat.
Max saw none of these dangers,--he did not even dream of them,--but satwith flushed face, gazing onward, as he skimmed in exhilarating motionover the sunny sea.
"I do like sailing," he said to himself, in spite of the hand which heldthe sheet, at which the sail snatched and tugged, beginning to ache, andthe other which grasped the rudder feeling numb. For the moment, too,he forgot that the sun did not always shine, and that the sea roseangrily, and that there were such things as storms.
All went quite smoothly, however, for about three parts of the distance,when all at once a peculiar washing sound reached his ears; and, gazingin the direction from which it came, he became aware of the fact thatthere was some water in the bottom of the boat, gliding here and thereas the little vessel gave to the pressure of the wind.
He paid no heed to it at first, only thinking that the boat must be alittle leaky, and knowing that he ought by rights to seek forward alittle tin can and bale the water out.
But the management of the sail and rudder fully occupied him till hemade the next tack, when it struck him that the quantity of water hadcertainly increased, as it ran over to the other side.
But still it caused him no uneasiness. He only felt that before long hemight have wet feet, and he kept on looking out ahead for Dunroe.
At the next tack, there was undoubtedly a good deal more water, and thebottom boards of the boat kept rising, one going so far as to set sailon a little voyage of its own, and floating about.
What was to be done?--to throw the boat up in the wind, and stop andbale, or to sail on as fast as he could, and get to Dunroe?
Thinking that the water did not much matter, he kept on sailing tackafter tack, till the water increased so much that it brought with it achill of horror as well as cold; for there could be no mistake in thefact that the weight of water in the boat interfered largely with itsprogress, and Max felt that if he delayed baling much longer she mightfill and sink.
He hesitated for a moment or two, and then tried to turn the boat's headso as to meet the wind. In this he succeeded, and, as the sail shiveredand flapped, he looked for the tin baler. This he did not find, becausein his excitement he forgot to look in the right place, so in his flurryhe took off his cap and set to work with that, dipping and pouring thewater over the side. A tiring job at the best of times, and with properimplements; wearisome in the extreme with no better baler than a cap;but Max made up in perseverance what was wanting in skill, and beforevery long he had satisfied himself, by comparison with some paint-marks,that the water was not gaining.
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p; At the same time he did not feel that he was reducing it much; and thedifficulty stared him in the face that he could not keep on baling andmake progress too.
Taking out his knife, he made a scratch at the level of the water, and,once more taking the helm, the boat gracefully bent over and sped on.
The journey now grew tediously laborious. The afternoon was passing,and it seemed to Max that he would never reach Dunroe; for at every tackhe paused to examine his mark, and found that the water had gained, sothat he was compelled to stop and bale once more.
He looked for the leak, but it was invisible. All he could make out wasthat it must be somewhere under the boards laid in the bottom of theboat.
For quite a couple of hours did this go on, with the water stillincreasing, and Dunroe appeared to be as far off as ever; while thelad's task was Sisyphean, since, as fast as he baled the water out, itseemed to return.
There was something else, too, for him to combat. At first he hadworked with plenty of spirit, but after many repetitions of the task adeadly sense of fatigue began to grow upon him, and as it affected hisbody, so it did his mind, till it seemed as if a great black cloud wereappearing. Despair rode upon that cloud, and, as he worked, his faceburned, but his heart chilled, and in imagination he saw himself sinkinghelplessly, when his arms should fall down to his sides, and he could dono more.
The result was that he baled with less effect, and instead of keepingthe water under, it began to master him; and he found at last, that, inspite of all his efforts, his knife-mark was covered, and the water keptinches above, and still increased.
Three Boys; Or, The Chiefs of the Clan Mackhai Page 17