by Paul Henke
For three days we were incapable of doing anything, except think about our misfortune. And then I had another idea.
‘Jake, let’s go out in the dinghy.’ I took us to the spot over which I guessed we had come into the lagoon. Here, at low tide, was a square cut channel, two feet deep, eighteen wide and only a tantalising fifteen feet to the open sea.
‘Even at high tide we’ve only got three feet of water or so,’ said Jake, reasonably, ‘and the Lady draws seven feet six inches to be exact.’
‘True, and how much was the raft drawing when we were lifting the boat?’
‘A little over a foot, I suppose. But don’t forget how buoyant the Lucky Lady is when she’s sunk. Her dead weight out of the water must be nearly doubled, if not more.’
‘I know, but how much more? If we put her on the raft what will it draw then?’
‘I don’t know but it doesn’t matter. It’ll weigh too much to even pull through the water.’
‘Damnation Jake, it shouldn’t be any harder than when she was on the bottom. In fact, it’ll be easier because the drag will be that much less. Anyway, do you have a better idea?’
‘No, but I can see plenty of difficulties with yours. For instance, how are you going to get the Lady onto the raft? It’s much too heavy.’
‘A few centuries ago a mathematician said “give me a big enough lever and I can move the world”. That same man did very clever things with blocks and tackles. We’ve only ever used one set, rigged to advantage to get maximum lift. Supposing we rigged one set to another set and then added a third? We’ll increase our lifting power a hundred times.’
Jake stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘I suppose it’s possible,’ he said finally.
Once more we began to reconstruct the raft. It was lying scattered around the lagoon, some of the logs still tied together. We worked like demons and in three weeks finished the job, this time with no centre logs missing.
To lighten the dead weight of the Lucky Lady, we removed everything from her that we could. We stripped out the bunks, the cupboards and even the after cabin superstructure. We removed the store of rum and tried to dig out some of her ballast, but that proved impossible.
We covered the edge of the raft with all the grease we had left and placed a double layer of canvas across it. Hopefully, when the boat slid onto the raft the canvas would come with it and protect the hull.
Next we lined up the Lucky Lady, broadside to the raft and overlapping on either side by eighteen feet. We attached ropes to the outer side of the raft, led them over the superstructure and secured them to the furthest side of the hull before pulling them taut.
With the raft jammed along the edge of the beach we fitted three lots of blocks and tackle on the Lady, one to the bow, one to the stern, and one to the top of the mast. It was this last one we were counting on to pull the boat over to the horizontal. The standing blocks we fixed to tree stumps in the vicinity, the trees already part of the raft. The inhauls we secured to another set of running blocks and the standing blocks to more tree trunks. We joined the second in-haul to a further set of blocks and tackle and around midnight, a month after we had first raised the Lucky Lady, we were ready.
In spite of being exhausted when we went to bed that night, I could not sleep. I could see Gunhild’s image before me, so real I could have touched her as I dozed in that dream world between wakefulness and sleep. I dreamed I had lost her but how or why I couldn’t see. There was a reason but it eluded me. Was she dead? Nobody would tell me. I woke up in a sweat, more tired than when I had gone to bed, the sun creeping over the horizon to a day I was dreading. What if it didn’t work?
We did not bother with breakfast but instead went directly to the ropes and tackle. I said to Dominic. ‘Grab that end and when I give the word heave like hell on the rope.’ I took a deep breath and yelled. ‘Heave!’ Slowly, the Lady heeled over until we had got her to an angle where the keel was almost out of the water.
‘What do you think?’ I asked Jake.
‘It’s possible, I suppose. A little further and we’ll be dragging her onto the raft properly.’
‘There’s no room left between the blocks, they’re jammed together. So we’ll have to run it out again and reset it,’ I said.
We spent the rest of the morning resetting the blocks, and then stopped for some food. The trouble with using a rig like the one we had made was that the blocks travelled a long distance but the length of pull between the boat and the furthest standing block was short. It meant we had to keep resetting the tackle but the arrangement gave us a very high lifting factor.
After we’d eaten, we started, this time pulling on the forward and after ropes alternately. The Lucky Lady slid a foot onto the raft and then tilted back, jammed. We changed to the tackle on the mast, took up the slack and pulled the Lady over again. When we hauled on the other two sets of ropes she slid another foot onto the raft and jammed again. So it went on, changing back and forth, first tilting the Lady and then dragging her further onto the raft. It was back breaking, eye popping, muscle straining work but at long last she was sitting firmly on the raft, completely clear of the water and well and truly jammed on the shore.That night I slept soundly with no dreams to haunt me.
Next morning we began digging away as much of the sand beneath the raft as we could. At one stage the raft tilted suddenlya few inches towards the water; luckily Jake removed his arm just in time to prevent it being crushed.
‘There are two things we can do,’ said Jake. ‘One is to build a tripod like the last time and the second is to run all these ropes together and fix them to the raft and that stump way over there.’ He pointed to a stump close to the water’s edge.
‘What good will that do?’ asked Estella wearily.
‘See how the beach curves? A straight pull from here might drag the raft around and further into the water.’
‘Anything is worth a try, come on,’ I said.
‘Oh no,’ said Estella. ‘I’m worn out. Can’t we stop for the night, please?’
‘You stop,’ I said, ‘but I’m going to try it anyway.’
‘I’ll help,’ said Dominic.
‘I’ll start on the tripod,’ said Jake.
‘And I’ll make something to eat,’ said Estella.
It took us another two days to finish. When we pulled on the long rope the raft swung as though on a pivot. Jake and Dominic pulled down on the rope attached to the lever and the raft slid six inches nearer the water before the lever toppled over. We reset it and did it again. By the fifth time, half the raft was being lapped by the water of the lagoon. On the ninth go she unexpectedly floated free and we suddenly found we were pulling her parallel to the beach. She floated with the water washing over the raft, only drawing about three feet.
We made another dawn start after a sleepless night. We ran ropes across the lagoon, stood on the coral, either side of the shallow channel, and heaved. The raft moved slowly but surely. I ignored the sweat, the backache, the screaming muscles. As the Lady got to within a few yards of the coral we moved further across the coral until our feet were on the outer, almost perpendicular, edge. In the channel the sea was two and half feet deep. Carefully we lined up the raft. She nosed in until half way through when she jammed. No matter how much we rocked and heaved she would not budge but there were still two hours to go to high tide.
We waited, not speaking. Every now and again we pulled on the ropes and she slid a little further . . . and further. The front edge reached us and we moved the ropes to the back of the raft. High tide came.
‘Come on,’ yelled Jake. ‘Now. Give it all you’ve got.’
We threw ourselves against the ropes. I heaved until I felt the blood pounding in my temples and the world was turning dizzy. She moved and stopped.
‘Dominic,’ panted Jake, ‘get on the raft and rock her like hell. Dave, pull like never before.’
I nodded, too tired to speak.
She moved another foot.
‘
One last time,’ Jake yelled. ‘Now.’ And we heaved and heaved. Nothing happened for a few seconds and then she suddenly shifted. Jake and I fell back into the open sea and the raft floated through. The Lucky Lady was in open waters again.
While working on the hammocks we lazed on the beach and did a little fishing. We caught more than sufficient for our needs.
‘At least we won’t starve,’ Jake commented as we sat down to a midday meal of fried fish. That is, if squatting outside a ragged tent with a blackened fish on a stick can be called sitting down to a meal.
‘That’s about all we can say for it,’ I said bitterly, thinking for the millionth time about Gunhild and wondering what she would be doing.
48
We re-floated the boat by the simple expedient of cutting out the logs, one by one. The keel touched down to the water and then suddenly the Lucky Lady sprung upright, bobbing in the waves and threatening to be washed down onto the coral. We jumped aboard her, hauled up a jib which we had ready, and with the wind blowing along the length of the coral, slowly edged our way out.
Jake hoisted the mizzen sail, I steered and Dominic held the jib out to starboard to catch the afternoon breeze. The mizzen filled and she heeled over, slowly picking up speed. It was the greatest feeling in the world to stand there, with the wheel in my hands, and feel the Lucky Lady responding.
Around the end of the coral reef we neared the shore and dropped the mizzen again. We kept the sails out until we were within ten yards of the beach and could see the laughing figure of Estella with the baby in her arms. I put the wheel hard to port, we turned into the wind and stopped. Dominic took a rope, jumped into the water and swam ashore. Jake brought the anchor from the camp and we used it to keep the bow pointed seaward, and the keel clear of the bottom.
That night we celebrated with grilled fish, crab, roast pig and copious draughts of coconut milk laced with rum. Our feelings were indescribable. We laughed at every little thing, joked and played the fool. There was still work ahead but now it was plain sailing all the way home. With luck I would soon be in St. Louis and it would be a long time before I left again.
‘The Lady will look funny, sailing without a mainsail,’ said Jake sadly.
‘But she’ll definitely sail all right?’ I asked, suddenly anxious.
‘Yep, slow but sure,’ he replied with his lopsided grin.
Another week was spent replacing the interior we had ripped out including the cupboards, bunks and after superstructure. We put the remaining stock of rum back into the bottom hold, still planning on making some money if we had any luck. Finally we provisioned the Lady and filled the water tanks.
Then came the last night on the island. It was a happy, sad occasion. We had been there one year, two months, three weeks and, we thought, four days. We had come to love the place, in spite of our eagerness to get away.
We left well before sunrise, dawn a faint streak of pearl grey in the east, the night inching away. The wind was from the north west and we sailed with it close to the starboard beam. After four days, the wind veered to the east and we ran before it, our speed being close to four knots.
‘Dave,’ said Jake, six days after we had left the island, ‘as soon as we get to civilisation Estella and I are going to get married in a church and have David Dominic christened. Will you stay for that?’
In my eagerness to get home I was about to refuse but hesitated. ‘Sure, of course I will. One more day won’t make any difference. Where do you think we’ll land, anyway?’
‘Somewhere on the Florida coast. There are plenty of villages around. As soon as we find out where we are we’ll head for a big town. I presume you want to telegraph and tell them you’re on your way?’
I grinned at the thought. ‘No. I’m going to turn up on the doorstep and surprise them. Hell, after so long they must have given me up for dead.’
‘It’ll be a surprise all right. I hope there’s nobody with a bad heart back there.’ Jake paused, while I took the helm from him and got the feel of the boat and wind. ‘By the way,’ he added, ‘I want you to have the seven thousand we would have made on this trip. The money the old lady paid us.’
‘I can’t do that. Half of it is yours.’
‘I don’t need it, Dave lad. You saw what was in those chests. It’s more than Estella and me need, far more. We’re going to Europe for a while, to,’ he chuckled ‘to let me get some education and decorum. Her words, not mine,’ he added hastily. ‘She’s going to teach me Spanish and get me to appreciate art. Some hope she’s got there, though.’
Estella had been teaching him to read and write, succeeding where my earlier attempts had failed, and Jake was now proficient at both. ‘Okay, thanks for the money. I still want half the profit from the rum,’ I said, and we laughed.
‘I agree you’ll make your fortune yet,’ he said, and went below, chuckling.
We had plenty of food and water and the days passed easily. Then, on the fifteenth day, an hour before dawn, I saw a light. Then another and then a dozen. It was a village and I yelled for the others to come up.
It was a fishing village and as we neared the coast we saw boats sailing out of the small harbour. When we got near enough we hailed them to find out where we were. We were off Fort Brunswick, fifty miles north of Jacksonville which was where the nearest railway line was. We decided to follow the coast to the larger town and arrived in the early evening.
It was a bustling place with a well-developed harbour, ships of all sorts, some coastal and others ocean going. There were also fishing boats, just in on the tide, unloading baskets of quivering, jerking fish. The market was raucous with the noise of bidding and the crowds of people. In some respects it was an anti-climax to sneak quietly alongside, unobserved. I wanted to yell at them all to come and listen to our story. Hell, we had lived on an island for over a year, castaways in the best Robinson Crusoe tradition. Seeing these people made me nervous for some reason, and I realised the others felt the same when I heard Estella whisper to Jake. I said it out loud and we were able to laugh at ourselves, stepping boldly ashore to look for the best hotel the town had to offer.
The excitement of being in civilisation again gripped me. I could not keep my eyes off the women and girls passing by, and once more a picture of Gunhild came to my mind. I would last until then, I told myself. We had dressed in our best clothes for our entry into harbour but even they were tatty and threadbare. We had a problem at the hotel until Jake threw a ten dollar gold piece on the counter and told the clerk we wanted the best rooms and to send for a tailor and hairdresser. Money worked as always, and soon I was enjoying a hot bath, a glass of ice cold beer in my hand, and a tailor showing me his wares while I luxuriated in the suds.
I suggested to the others after we ate that we go on a bar crawl to see how many we could get thrown out of. Dominic jumped at the chance, but the light in Jake’s eyes died quickly when Estella told him they were going to bed early.
I don’t remember too much after that. We definitely made three bars and a hotel. Somehow I awoke in my bed to a hammering on the door. I staggered out of bed and after a lot of fumbling with the lock managed to open it and crawl back to bed. It took a lot of cajoling, threatening, and bullying, but Jake finally got me downstairs and two cups of strong, black coffee inside me. It seemed we had only an hour to get to the church for the wedding and christening. Estella had not given him a chance to change his mind.
‘I would have thought after last night you’d have your doubts,’ I said. ‘You missed a good time.’
He smirked. ‘Want to bet?’
‘Hmm, perhaps not,’ I grinned back. ‘How did she manage to arrange things so quickly?’
‘She saw the minister this morning. She told him everything. He was very sympathetic and kind. Mind you, I’m not suggesting the two hundred dollars she gave him for the poor box didn’t have anything to do with his decision. So it’s all fixed.’
The four of us went to the church at noon. We were dresse
d in new suits, had been to the barber’s and bath-house and felt ill at ease as we stood around the font. Estella was radiant in a wedding dress she had conjured up from somewhere. I acted as best man and handed over the wedding rings and Dominic held the baby. In view of the solemnity of the occasion and the commitment it represented it was all over in a very short time.
We thanked the minister and a short while later we were having a meal in a nearby hotel. We sat there all afternoon, drinking a little and talking a lot, each of us in our own way aware of the passing of time and the separation to follow.
It was nearly eight o’clock that evening when we went to the railway station. A train was about to leave for Charleston and I was catching it.
‘Hey,’ I said, as the three stood outside the window and I leaned down to talk to them, ‘what about the rum?’
Jake chuckled. ‘And I thought you were such a good businessman. I tell you what, I’ll sell it and you and Gunhild can come and collect the money from me in Europe during your honeymoon. Okay?’ He held out his hand, his lopsided grin as wide as ever.
‘I’ll do that,’ I said, suddenly finding I could not see properly through a blur. Jake seemed to have the same problem. We were saved from any further embarrassment when the guard yelled to stand clear, we gave a final wave and the train pulled away.
From Charleston I went through North Carolina and on to Richmond. I changed trains there and went to Washington, although it never occurred to me that one or both of my parents might be there now that Dad was a Congressman. Soon I was en route to Pittsburgh and once more in familiar territory. I ignored the scenery and I was unable to concentrate on any of the books and magazines I had bought to pass the time. I sat for hours staring vacantly, dreaming of my arrival home.