XV. Bensersiel
[For this chapter see Map B.]
THE decisive incidents of our cruise were now fast approaching.Looking back on the steps that led to them, and anxious that thereader should be wholly with us in our point of view, I think Icannot do better than give extracts from my diary of the next threedays:
'16th _Oct._ (up at 6.30, yacht high and dry). Of the three galliotsout at anchor in the channel yesterday, only one is left ... I tookmy turn with the breakers this morning and walked to Wangeroog, whosevillage I found half lost in sand drifts, which are planted withtufts of marram-grass in mathematical rows, to give stability andprevent a catastrophe like that at Pompeii. A friendly grocer told meall there is to know, which is little. The islands are what wethought them--barren for the most part, with a small fishingpopulation, and a scanty accession of summer visitors for bathing.The season is over now, and business slack for him. There is still,however, a little trade with the mainland in galliots and lighters, afew of which come from the "siels" on the mainland. "Had theseharbours?" I asked. "Mud-holes!" he replied, with a contemptuouslaugh. (He is a settler in these wilds, not a native.) Said he hadheard of schemes for improving them, so as to develop the islands ashealth-resorts, but thought it was only a wild speculation.
'A heavy tramp back to the yacht, nearly crushed by impedimenta.While Davies made yet another trip, I stalked some birds with a gun,and obtained what resembled a specimen of the smallest variety ofjack-snipe, and small at that; but I made a great noise, which I hopepersuaded somebody of the purity of our motives.
'We weighed anchor at one o'clock, and in passing the anchoredgalliot took a good look at her. 'Kormoran' was on her stern; otherwiseshe was just like a hundred others. Nobody was on deck.
'We spent the whole afternoon till dark exploring the Harle, or gapbetween Wangeroog and Spiekeroog; the sea breaking heavily on thebanks outside ... Fine as the day was, the scene from the offing wasdesolate to the last degree. The naked spots of the two islands arehideous in their sterility: melancholy bits of wreck-wood their onlyrelief, save for one or two grotesque beacons, and, most _bizarre_ ofall, a great church-tower, standing actually _in_ the water, on thenorth side of Wangeroog, a striking witness to the encroachment ofthe sea. On the mainland, which was barely visible, there was onevery prominent landmark, a spire, which from the chart we took to bethat of _Esens,_ a town four miles inland.
'The days are growing short. Sunset is soon after five, and an hourlater it is too dark to see booms and buoys distinctly. The tidesalso are awkward just now.
(I exclude all the technicalities that I can, but the reader shouldtake note that the tide-table is very important henceforward.)
'High-water at morning and evening is between five and six--just attwilight. For the night, we groped with the lead into the MuschelBalge, the tributary channel which laps round the inside ofSpiekeroog, and lay in two fathoms, clear of the outer swell, butrolling a little when the ebb set in strong against the wind.
'A galliot passed us, going west, just as we were stowing sails; toodark to see her name. Later, we saw her anchor-light higher up ourchannel.
'The great event of the day has been the sighting of a small Germangunboat, steaming slowly west along the coast. That was abouthalf-past four, when we were sounding along the Harle.
'Davies identified her at once as the _Blitz_, Commander von Br?ning'sgunboat. We wondered if he recognized the _Dulcibella_, but, anyway,she seemed to take no notice of us and steamed slowly on. We quiteexpected to fall in with her when we came to the islands, but theactual sight of her has excited us a good deal. She is an ugly,cranky little vessel, painted grey, with one funnel. Davis iscontemptuous about her low freeboard forward; says he would rather goto sea in the 'Dulce'. He has her dimensions and armament (learnt fromBrassey) at his fingers' ends: one hundred and forty feet bytwenty-five, one 4.9 gun, one 3.4, and four maxims--an old type. Justgoing to bed; a bitterly cold night.
'_Oct_. 17--Glass falling heavily this morning, to our greatdisgust. Wind back in the SW and much warmer. Starting at 5.30 wetacked on the tide over the "watershed" behind Spiekeroog. So didthe galliot we had seen last night, but we again missed identifyingher, as she weighed anchor before we came up to her berth. Davies,however, swore she was the 'Kormoran'. We lost sight of her altogetherfor the greater part of the day, which we spent in exploring theOtzumer Ee (the gap between Langeoog and Spiekeroog), now and thenfiring some perfunctory shots at seals and sea-birds... (nauticaldetails omitted). . . In the evening we were hurrying back to aninside anchorage, when we made a bad mistake; did, in fact, what wehad never done before, ran aground on the very top of high water, andare now sitting hard and fast on the edge of the Rute Flat, south ofthe east spit of Langeoog. The light was bad, and a misplaced boomtricked us; kedging-off failed, and at 8 p.m. we were left on aperfect Ararat of sand, and only a yard or two from that accursedboom, which is perched on the very summit, as a lure to the unwary.It is going to blow hard too, though that is no great matter, as weare sheltered by banks on the sou'-west and nor'-west sides, thelikely quarters. We hope to float at 6.15 to-morrow morning, but tomake sure of being able to get her off, we have been transferringsome ballast to the dinghy, by way of lightening the yacht--a horridbusiness handling the pigs of lead, heavy, greasy, and black. Thesaloon is an inferno, the deck like a collier's, and ourselves likesweeps.
'The anchors are laid out, and there is nothing more to be done.
'_Oct._ 18--Half a gale from the sou'-west when we turned out, butit helped us to float off safely at six. The dinghy was very nearlyswamped with the weight of lead in it, and getting the ballast backinto the yacht was the toughest job of all. We got the dinghyalongside, and Davies jumped in (nearly sinking it for good),balanced himself, fended off, and, whenever he got a chance, attachedthe pigs one by one on to a bight of rope, secured to the peakhalyards, on which I hoisted from the deck. It was touch and go for afew minutes, and then easier.
'It was nine before we had finished replacing the pigs in the hold, afilthy but delicate operation, as they fit like a puzzle, and if oneis out of place the floor-boards won't shut down. Coming on deckafter it, we saw to our surprise the _Blitz_, lying at anchor in theSchill Balje, inside Spiekeroog, about a mile and a half off. Shemust have entered the Otzumer Ee at high-water for shelter from thegale; a neat bit of work for a vessel of her size, as Davies says shedraws nine-foot-ten, and there can't be more than twelve on the barat high-water neaps. Several smacks had run in too, and there weretwo galliots farther up our channel, but we couldn't make out if the'Kormoran' was one.
'When the banks uncovered we lay more quietly, so landed and took along, tempestuous walk over the Rute, with compass and notebooks.Returning at two, we found the glass tumbling down almost visibly.
'I suggested running for Bensersiel, one of the mainland villagessouth-west of us, on the evening flood, as it seemed just the rightopportunity, if we were to visit one of those "siels" at all. Davieswas very lukewarm, but events overcame him. At 3.30 a black, raggedcloud, appearing to trail into the very sea, brought up a terrificsquall. This passed, and there was a deathly pause of ten minuteswhile the whole sky eddied as with smoke-wreaths. Then an icy puffstruck us from the north-west, rapidly veering till it reachednorth-east; there it settled and grew harder every moment.
'"Sou'-west to north-east--only the worst sort do that," said Davies.
'The shift to the east changed the whole situation (as shifts oftenhave before), making the Rute Flats a lee shore, while to windwardlay the deep lagoons of the Otzumer Ee, bounded indeed by Spiekeroog,but still offering a big drift for wind and sea. We had to clear outsharp, to set the mizzen. It was out of the question to beat towindward, for it was blowing a hurricane in a few minutes. We must goto leeward, and Davies was for running farther in well behind theJans sand, and not risking Bensersiel. A blunder of mine, when I wentto the winch to get up anchor, settled the question. Thirty out ofour forty fathoms of chain were out. Confused
by the motion and ablinding sleet-shower that had come on, and forgetting the tremendousstrain on the cable, I cast the slack off the bitts and left itloose. There was then only one turn of the chain round the drum,enough in ordinary weather to prevent it running out. But now myfirst heave on the winch-lever started it slipping, and in an instantit was whizzing out of the hawse-pipe and overboard. I tried to stopit with my foot, stumbled at a heavy plunge of the yacht, heardsomething snap below, and saw the last of it disappear. The yachtfell off the wind, and drifted astern. I shouted, and had the senseto hoist the reefed foresail at once. Davies had her in hand in notime, and was steering south-west. Going aft I found him cool andcharacteristic.
'"Doesn't matter," he said; "anchor's buoyed. (Ever since leaving theElbe we had had a buoy-line on our anchor against the emergency ofhaving to slip our cable and run. For the same reason the end of thechain was not made permanently fast below.) We'll come back to-morrowand get it. Can't now. Should have had to slip it anyhow; wind and seatoo strong. We'll try for Bensersiel. Can't trust to a warp and kedgeout here."
'An exciting run it was, across country, so to speak, over anunboomed watershed; but we had bearings from our morning's walk.Shoal water all the way and a hollow sea breaking everywhere. We soonmade out the Bensersiel booms, but even under mizzen and foresailonly we travelled too fast, and had to heave to outside them, for thechannel looked too shallow still. We lowered half the centreboardand kept her just holding her own to windward, through a most tryingperiod. In the end had to run for it sooner than we meant, as we weresagging to leeward in spite of all, and the light was failing. Boreup at _5.15_, and raced up the channel with the booms on our leftscarcely visible in the surf and rising water. Davies stood forward,signalling--port, starboard, or steady--with his arms, while Iwrestled with the helm, flung from side to side and flogged bywave-tops. Suddenly found a sort of dyke on our right just coveringwith sea. The shore appeared through scud, and men on a quayshouting. Davies brandished his left arm furiously; I ported hard,and we were in smoother water. A few seconds more and we werewhizzing through a slit between two wood jetties. Inside a smallsquare harbour showed, but there was no room to round up properly andno time to lower sails. Davies just threw the kedge over, and it justgot a grip in time to check our momentum and save our bowsprit fromthe quayside. A man threw us a rope and we brought up alongside,rather bewildered.
'Not more so than the natives, who seemed to think we had droppedfrom the sky. They were very friendly, with an undercurrent ofdisappointment, having expected salvage work outside, I think. Allshowed embarrassing helpfulness in stowing sails, etc. We wererescued by a fussy person in uniform and spectacles, who swept themaside and announced himself as the Custom-house officer (fancy such athing in this absurd mud-hole!), marched down into the cabin, whichwas in a fearful mess and wringing wet, and producing ink, pen, and ahuge printed form, wanted to know our cargo, our crew, our last port,our destination, our food, stores, and everything. No cargo(pleasure); captain, Davies; crew, me; last port, Brunsb?ttel;destination, England. What spirits had we? Whisky, produced. Whatsalt? Tin of Cerebos, produced, and a damp deposit in a saucer. Whatcoffee? etc. Lockers searched, guns fingered, bunks rifled. Meanwhilethe German charts and the log, the damning clues to our purpose, werein full evidence, crying for notice which they did not get. (We hadforgotten our precautions in the hurry of our start from the Rute.)When the huge form was as full as he could make it, he suddenlybecame human, talkative, and thirsty; and, when we treated him,patronizing. It seemed to dawn on him that, under our rough clothesand crust of brine and grime, we were two mad and wealthyaristocrats, worthy _prot?g?s_ of a high official. He insisted on ourbringing our cushions to dry at his house, and to get rid of him weconsented, for we were wet, hungry, and longing to change and wash.He talked himself away at last, and we hid the log and charts; but hereturned, in the postmaster's uniform this time before we hadfinished supper, and haled us and our cushions up through dark andmud to his cottage near the quay. To reach it we crossed a smallbridge spanning what seemed to be a small river with sluice-gates,just as we had thought.
'He showed his prizes to his wife, who was quite flustered by thedistinguished strangers, and received the cushions with awe; and nextwe were carried off to the Gasthaus and exhibited to the villagecircle, where we talked ducks and weather. (Nobody takes usseriously; I never felt less like a conspirator.) Our friend, who isa feather-headed chatterbox, is enormously important about hisridiculous little port, whose principal customer seems to be theLangeoog post-boat, a galliot running to and fro according to tide. Afew lighters also come down the stream with bricks and produce fromthe interior, and are towed to the islands. The harbour has from fiveto seven feet in it for two hours out of twelve! Herr Schenkel talkedus back to the yacht, which we found resting on the mud--and here weare. Davies pretends there are harbour smells, and says he won't beable to sleep; is already worrying about how to get away from here.Ashore, they were saying that it's impossible, under sail, in strongnorth-east winds, the channel being too narrow to tack in. For mypart I find it a huge relief to be in any sort of harbour after afortnight in the open. There are no tides or anchors to think about,and no bumping or rolling. Fresh milk to-morrow!'
The Riddle of the Sands Page 16