CHAPTER XXV
Riding it Out
"What is the time, please, Miss Baird?" inquired Peter.
"Nine o'clock," replied Olive, consulting her wristlet watch, the onlyone of five in the boat that had survived.
"Too early for grub, then," continued Mostyn "We must economize. Andwith water, too. It's going to be a scorching hot day."
He omitted to add that in all probability there would be a stiffishwind before long, possibly increasing to hurricane force. The thunderyrain, coming before the wind, pointed to a severe blow before manyhours were past. Meanwhile the breeze had dropped until the boat wasmaking less than one knot.
Peter had practically shaken off the effects of his prolongedimmersion. He was feeling a bit stiff in the limbs, and had developeda healthy hunger. The latter troubled him far more than the stiffness.Work would relieve his cramped arms, but it would also increase thepangs of the inner man.
In the light breeze he could safely entrust the helm to one of thelascars, provided he kept his weather eye lifting in case a suddensquall swept down upon the boat. The native might or might not be ableto handle a sailing craft, but Peter was resolved to take no risks onthat score. He would rather place Olive at the helm, although in theevent of danger he meant to stick to the tiller for hours if needs be.
"Due east, _mutli_," ordered Mostyn, having signed to the lascar tocome aft.
The man nodded and repeated the compass course. Since Peter haddisplayed his automatic the pair of lascars had been remarkablytractable.
The Wireless Officer's next step was to rig up a tent to shelter thewomen from the blazing sun. Calling Mahmed to assist him, he lashedthe unshipped mizzen mast to the mainmast just below the goose-neck ofthe latter, so that the boom could swing out in the event of a gybewithout fouling the almost horizontal ridge-pole. The after end of themizzen was propped up by a crutch made by lashing a couple ofboat-stretchers crosswise. Over this was spread the mizzen sail, theends of the ridge-tent being enclosed by means of the jib and a coupleof oilskin jackets.
"There you are," declared Peter, surveying the result of the jointhandiwork of Mahmed and himself. "You'll be sheltered under the sail.I would advise you both to sleep during the heat of the day."
Olive declined, with a smile, adding that she preferred to be in theopen air. Mrs. Shallop hardly deigned to acknowledge the effort Mostynhad made for her comfort as far as lay in the resources at his command.
She had not been under the tent for more than a minute, when shereappeared holding up a ring-bedecked hand for inspection.
"I've lost a diamond out of this ring," she announced in a loud voice;"and it's a valuable one. It cost a sovereign."
Peter could not help smiling.
"Whatever can one do with a female like that?" he soliloquized. "Theloss of a twopenny-halfpenny stone is of more consequence to her thanthe chance of losing her life."
Contriving to conceal his amusement he replied: "It can't have gonevery far, Mrs. Shallop, if you had it in the boat. We'll probably findit under the bottom-boards."
"Then make those blacks look at once," ordered the lady peremptorily.
Peter pretended not to have heard the strident, imperious command. Itwould have been waste of breath to point out that the boat could not besearched without disturbing Preston, and that the awkwardly placedbottom-boards could not be removed while the boat was under way.
With a parting shot at the young officer for his incivility, Mrs.Shallop retired to the tent and began to nag Miss Baird, who had shownno disposition to assist in the search.
"Thanks, Mr. Mostyn," said the girl, when Peter warned her of the heatof the sun. "I'm quite all right. You see, I took the precaution ofwearing a topee when we were ordered into the boat. May I steer?"
For a second time that morning Mostyn relinquished the helm. Then,having seen that Preston was as comfortable as possible, he sat on oneof the side-benches and chatted to the helmswoman. Even then he wasnot idle, for, on the principle that "you never know when it may bewanted", he took his automatic pistol to pieces and carefully cleanedthe mechanism, sparingly oiling the working parts with a few drops ofoil from the lamp.
"Do you know how this thing works?" inquired Peter casually.
"Yes," replied the girl promptly. "You have to pull back the hammerfor the first shot, and as long as the trigger is pressed the pistolgoes on firing until the magazine is empty."
"I wonder how you know," thought Mostyn.
He shook his head.
"This pistol doesn't," he explained. "Some simply act automatically aslong as the trigger is pressed. That's rather a drawback if a fellow'sa bit jumpy. He's apt to let fly a hail of bullets indiscriminately.No! This pistol of mine cocks itself after every shot, and it requiresanother pull on the trigger to fire each of the succeeding cartridges."
"The one I saw was different," rejoined the girl. "It was mybrother's. He was killed at Ypres in '18."
Peter politely murmured regrets, but inwardly he felt relieved that thefellow who had instructed Olive into the mysteries of automatic pistolswas only a brother.
Just then Preston roused slightly and asked for water.
"Better, old man?" asked Mostyn, as he poured a few precious drops intothe baler, and held the rim to the Acting Chief's dry lips.
"Hocussed an' sandbagged, that's what's happened to me," mumbledPreston thickly. "Where the hooligan Harry am I?" And, with a suddenmovement, he jerked the baler out of Peter's hand.
The man was obviously still delirious. Before Mostyn could decide whatto reply, Preston shut his eyes and went to sleep again.
Mostyn picked up the baler from where it had fallen under thestern-bench. A couple of spoonfuls of fresh water had been wasted.
"Is that land?" suddenly inquired Olive, pointing away on the port bow,where a low, dark line was just visible on the horizon, looking verymuch like a chain of serrated mountains.
"Cloud bank," replied Peter briefly. Then in explanation he added:"There's wind behind that lot, Miss Baird; probably more than we want.It may head us too."
Glancing into the compass hood to see that the girl was steering acorrect course, Mostyn rapped on the thwart immediately abaft thecanvas shelter in which Mrs. Shallop was either resting or broodingover more or less imaginary grievances.
"We'll have to unrig the tent," he announced. "There's a stiff breezebearing down on us."
"I don't like stiff breezes," retorted the lady promptly. "I'd ratherhave the tent up to keep the wind out."
"Sorry," replied the Wireless Officer. "It can't be done. In twominutes the lascars will commence unrigging the tent."
Mostyn allowed a good three minutes to elapse before signing to Mahmedand the lascars to take down the canvas. It was an absolutelynecessary step, in order to allow unimpeded access to the workingcanvas, should it be required either to reef the sail or stow italtogether.
Having seen the task carried out, Peter proceeded to rig up asea-anchor.
"It may come in jolly useful," he remarked to Miss Baird. "If we don'twant it I won't complain about useless work."
With the assistance of the three Indians Mostyn bent a rope span to theyard and boom of the mizzen sail. Through the centre of each span hesecured a stout grass warp, weighting the yard with the grapnel, sothat, if it became necessary to ride to the improvised sea-anchor, thegrapnel would keep the sail taut and in a vertical plane.
By the time these preparations were completed the bank of ragged-edgedclouds had covered most of the sky to wind'ard. The sun was beginningto become obscured, while there was an appreciable drop in thetemperature of the air. The wind had fallen away utterly, leaving thesail hanging idly from the yard. The water no longer rippled under theboat's forefoot. All was silent save for the creaking of the mast andspars as the boat rolled sluggishly in the long, gentle swell.
Keenly on the alert, Peter had taken over the helm, and was keeping asharp look-out to wind'ard.
"Down sail!" he ordered.
The canvas was lowered and stowed. As a precautionary measure Mostynhad the sea-anchor hove overboard, trusting that at the first squallthe high, freeboarded boat would drift rapidly until brought head towind by the drag of the improvised floating breakwater.
"It's coming," said Olive in a low voice, as a long-drawn shriek couldbe faintly heard--the harbinger of a vicious squall.
By now it was almost dusk, so dense were the clouds overhead. Thetropical sun had no power to penetrate the sombre masses of vapour.Less than half a mile to wind'ard the hitherto tranquil water was whitewith wind-lashed foam; while, in strange contrast, the sea-anchor wasrubbing gently alongside the boat in the perfectly smooth sea.
Louder and louder grew the volume of sound, until with a vicious rushthe squall swept down upon the boat. For a few seconds, while she laybroadside on, the boat heeled to such an extent, under thewind-pressure upon her high sides, that the water was actually pouringin over the lee gunwale. Then, spinning round as the grass ropeattached to the sea-anchor tautened, the boat rode head to wind and sea.
In a brief space of time the terrific gusts had raised quite amountainous sea, with deep troughs and short, sharp crests which, tornby the blasts into clouds of spindrift, flew completely over the boat.So far she had ridden it out splendidly, the sea-anchor breaking themore dangerous waves in a manner that was quite astonishing. Yet thewhile the grass rope was snubbing wickedly in spite of its naturalspringiness. Through the clouds of spray Peter could see that thelascars for'ard were betraying considerable uneasiness lest the ropeshould part.
Mostyn too realized the danger. He regretted that he had not doubledthe rope, but now nothing could be done beyond putting a temporary"parcelling" round it where it passed through the bow fairlead.
More than once the Wireless Officer gave a hurried glance at MissBaird. Outwardly the girl seemed perfectly self-possessed, and, withher natural thoughtfulness, she was sitting on the stern-gratings anddoing her best to keep the still delirious Preston from sliding fromside to side with the erratic and disconcerting motion of the boat.
The squall lasted for perhaps five minutes. Then, after a lull, cameanother series of vicious blasts from a different point, that wasalmost at right angles to the direction of the initial squall. Thishad the effect of raising a nasty cross-sea, accompanied by atorrential downpour of rain.
Suddenly, at less than a couple of cable-lengths to windward, appearedthe misty outlines of a tramp steamer. She was labouring badly,rolling almost rail under and throwing up showers of spray high aboveher bridge.
Standing up and keeping his feet with difficulty Mostyn franticallywaved to the vessel. Mahmed followed his example and also hailed inhis high-pitched key. Shouting was useless. No volume of sound shortof that of a fog-horn could possibly have carried that distance in theface of the howling elements.
The next instant the temporary clearing of the downpour gave place to ablinding deluge. The steamer vanished as utterly as if she hadsuddenly plunged to the bed of the ocean.
"Has she seen us?" inquired Olive, raising her voice.
"'Fraid not," replied Peter, still staring in the direction where hehad last seen the tramp. "Couldn't do much if she did in this dust-up.I'll risk a rocket, any old way."
Some time elapsed before a rocket could be taken from its airtightcase, and the touch-paper ignited. Then with a hiss the detonatingsignal soared obliquely upwards, its intended course deflected by theterrific wind.
It burst at less than a hundred feet in the air, but the report was sofaint and the flash so weak that Mostyn could only reiterate his doubtsas to whether the tramp could see or hear anything.
"It's lucky she didn't run us down," he added. "I know thoseblighters. They think they've got the whole ocean to themselves andcarry on at full speed. In fog it's often the same, the idea being toget into better weather as soon as possible."
For another ten minutes it blew hard, but, thanks to the improvisedsea-anchor, the boat was making very little leeway and riding head towind. Occasionally the crested tops of the cross-seas flopped in overthe gunwale, and the two lascars were kept baling steadily. Olive andMahmed were tending the still delirious Preston, the former holding himto prevent further injuries to his badly damaged head, while the boykept a strip of painted canvas over the Acting Chief's body to shelterhim from the rain and spray. Mrs. Shallop was the only idler.Refusing Peter's offer of his oilskin, she sat huddled up on thebottom-boards, with the water swirling over her feet and her clothingsaturated with the torrential rain. Too dispirited to use her voice incomplaint, she sat and shivered in morose silence, posing as a martyrand yet getting no sympathy from anyone.
At length the wind ceased, although the rain continued in violence.This had the effect of calming the water considerably, and Peter tookthe opportunity of ordering the lascars to spread out the square ofpainted canvas, and catch as much rain as possible to augment theprecious store of fresh water.
Within an hour the sky cleared and the wind freshened into a one-reefbreeze. The sea-anchor was taken in and sail again set; but there wasthe disquieting knowledge that the wind was dead in their teeth.Either the boat must be kept "full and bye", gaining little or nothingon each tack, or Mostyn must "up helm" and retrace his course on thechance of making the now far-distant Mozambique shore, which meant thatthe previous sixteen-hour run was utterly wasted.
"If only we had a motor!" he exclaimed.
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