CHAPTER XXX
The Voyage is Resumed
The boat lay riding to her kedge at less than twenty yards from shore.She was in not more than two feet of water. Peter would not riskbringing the boat closer inshore, lest, with her full complement, shewould grate over the coral and so injure herself.
Mahmed was first on board, his duty being to assist the two lascars tohoist Preston over the gunwale. This operation was successfullyperformed without even a groan or a gasp from the injured man, and thelascars returned to carry the portly Mrs. Shallop through the water.
They had a difficult task this time, for the lady confessed to twelvestone, and probably tipped the scale at fifteen. Nevertheless thelascars tackled the job with such a will that their energy was morethan sufficient.
Mrs. Shallop began to rock. The oscillations continued until indesperation she clutched at the head of one of her bearers. At thesame moment his feet struck a particularly sharp patch of rock. Never"strong on his pins", and additionally handicapped by an unequal shareof his fifteen-stone burden, the Indian found himself falling. Theprospect of being sandwiched between the sharp coral and the portlymem-sahib was too much for his self-control. With a vigorous anddespairing effort he threw himself clear. The other lascar, unable tomaintain his charge, let Mrs. Shallop go with a run.
For some seconds she floundered in eighteen inches of tepid water, herhorrified features mercifully obscured from the onlookers by aminiature waterspout. Before Mostyn could go to her assistance sheregained her feet. For a very brief interval there was absolutesilence. Even the lapping of the wavelets upon the shore seemed tohave ceased.
Then the storm broke. Mrs. Shallop's pent-up loquacity let itselfloose, after being kept under control for nearly forty-eight hours.She stormed at the lascars until they took to their heels, butfortunately they were ignorant of what she did say. Then she directedher battery upon Peter, although he was quite at a loss to know why heshould be marked down in this fashion; while for vehemence herexpressions--to quote the immortal Pepys--"outvied the daughters ofBillingsgate".
Mostyn suffered the storm in silence. Most people in their passions"give themselves away", and in this instance Mrs. Shallop's outburstsimply confirmed Peter's doubts as to the lady's claims to be a navalcaptain's daughter.
But when Mrs. Shallop included Olive in her revilings Peter's squarejaw tightened.
"Enough of this!" he exclaimed sternly. "On board--at once!"
Mrs. Shallop hesitated, trying, perhaps, to find a flaw in the armourof her youthful antagonist. For his part Peter kept his eyes fixedsteadily upon the infuriated woman, although he found himself inquiringwhat he could do to enforce obedience should she prove obdurate.
The tension was broken by Preston's gruff voice. From where he lay inthe stern-sheets the Acting Chief could see nothing of what was goingon. One ear was covered with bandages, but the other was doubly sharpof hearing. To him a refusal to obey lawful orders was mutiny, whetherit came from a dago, "Dutchie", or, as in the present instance, from ablindly angry woman.
"You had one ducking by accident," he shouted. "You'll get another bydesign--in double quick time--if you don't take your place in the boat."
It was high time, Preston thought, that he had a say in the matter. Itwas a drastic step to threaten a woman with physical punishment, butthere were limitations to the patience and forbearance of himself andhis companions. A person of the explosive and abusive temperament ofMrs. Shallop in the boat was not only an unmitigated nuisance but apositive danger. Shorthanded as they were, they could not afford torun the additional risk of being hampered by an irresponsible passengershould they get in a tight squeeze, when the safety of all concerneddepended upon coolness, quickness, and unhampered action.
The prospect of another sousing quelled the termagant's spirit. Meeklyshe waded to the boat and scrambled unassisted over the gunwale.
"Now, Olive!" exclaimed Peter. "To avoid a repetition of part of theperformance----"
He lifted the girl in his arms and carried her through the water.
By this time the lascars had returned, and the boat's complement wasnow complete. The kedge was broken out and stowed, and under oars therepaired craft headed for the open sea, where the dancing ripplesbetokened the presence of a breeze--and a fair wind at that.
Peter was at the helm, with one hand grasping the tiller and the othershading his eyes from the dazzling sunlight. The two lascars rowed,while Mahmed, armed with the lead-line, took frequent soundings untilthe boat had drawn clear of the outlying reefs.
"Way 'nough!" ordered Mostyn. "Hoist sail!"
While the Indians were engaged in this operation the Wireless Officer,handing Olive the tiller, made a hasty yet comprehensive survey of thebilges. Except for a slight leaking 'twixt wind and water, the boatseemed absolutely tight. The canvas patches, reinforced as they werewith woodwork, were standing the strain splendidly and gave not theslightest indication of leaking. Whether they would withstand the"working" of the boat in a seaway was still a matter that had to beproved.
"What's the course, old man?" asked Peter.
"Keep her at nor'-by-east," replied Preston. "Another thirty-six hoursought to work the oracle."
"It's nearly a dead run," reported Mostyn, after he had steadied theboat on her course.
"So much the better, s'long as you don't gybe her," rejoined the ActingChief. "Not so much chance of making leeway."
Peter saw the force of this contention, but that did not alter the factthat of all forms of sailing "running" was what he least liked. Itsoon became apparent that there were others who were of a similaropinion, for, as the boat rolled heavily before the hot, sultry wind,Mrs. Shallop and the lascars were quickly _hors de combat_, showing noenthusiasm when the first meal on board for that day was served out.
Even Olive Baird, used as she was to sailing, felt the motion of theboat uncomfortable. The light breeze was scarcely perceptible,although it was making the sail draw well. Not only was the sunpouring down with considerable strength, but the sea was reflecting hotrays of dazzling light.
Already the island astern was a mere pin-prick on the horizon. Aheadand on either beam was the now monotonous expanse of sea and sky.
Late in the afternoon a shoal of flying fish came athwart the boat'scourse. Evidently they were being pursued, for they flew blindly,several of them bringing up against the sail and dropping stunned uponthe thwarts.
"Dolphins in pursuit, I think," explained Peter, in answer to Olive'squestion. "I don't know about that, though," he added after a pause."Look at that."
He pointed astern. Twenty yards away was the triangular dorsal fin ofa shark.
"The brute," ejaculated Olive, with a slight shudder. "I hope he goesoff soon."
But the girl's wish was not to be fulfilled. If the shark had beenchasing the flying fish he no longer did so. Perhaps he scentedpromising and more satisfying tare, for without any apparent effort hebegan to follow the boat, rarely increasing or decreasing the distance.
"Hang the shark," exclaimed Peter. "Here, Olive, is a chance to showwhat a good shot you are."
He handed the girl his automatic. Without hesitation Olive took thesomewhat complicated weapon. Peter noted, with a certain degree ofsatisfaction, that she handled it fearlessly, and at the same time withproper caution. He had no cause to duck his head because of the muzzlepointing in his direction.
"Don't forget to release the safety-catch," he said.
"I've done so already," rejoined Olive, pulling back the mechanism thatperformed the double action of cocking the pistol and inserting acartridge into the breech.
It was not an easy target, even at twenty yards. Not only was the boatyawing, but the dorsal fin of the shark was constantly on the move.
The pistol cracked. Mostyn, intent upon preventing the boat fromgybing, had no opportunity of seeing the result of the shot. The girl,replacing the safety catch, handed the weapon back to its owner.
"Missed it, I'm afraid," she said. "But there's one good thing--theshark's disappeared."
"Scared stiff, if not hit," rejoined Peter. "Do you mind hanging on tothe tiller, while I clean out the barrel?"
The day wore on. At six o'clock Peter roused one of the lascars, andtold him to take on for a couple of hours. Already the tent had beenrigged amidships, while the jib--useless, or nearly so, whilerunning--had been employed as a sun-screen for Preston.
The sun sank to rest, its slanting rays turning the hitherto blue seainto a pool of liquid, ruddy fire, that gave place to a spangled carpetof indigo as the long undulations reflected the starlight. Away in thewest the young moon was on the point of setting. It was the sort ofsub-tropical evening that made the discomfort of the open boat pale byits soothing influence.
At eight Peter "took over". He had no desire for sleep, and was quitecontent to keep watch until relieved at dawn by one of the lascars; buthe was somewhat surprised to find that Olive was likewise disinclinedto turn in.
They watched the crescent moon dip behind the horizon; they saw thestars pale as a slight mist rose from the waters of the Indian Ocean,and the starlight give place to a darkness broken only by the feeblerays of the binnacle lamp.
By this time the wind had dropped to a gentle breeze on the portquarter, and there was no longer any risk of gybing. The erraticmovement of the dead run had given way to the steadier "full and bye",with sufficient "kick" in the helm to make steering a pleasure ratherthan a monotonous routine.
Suddenly the boat quivered and heeled over to starboard. The shock wassufficient to rouse the sleepers.
"Aground!" exclaimed Olive.
Peter put the helm down. The boat responded instantly to the action ofthe rudder.
"No," he replied. "We've hit something. Wreckage, perhaps."
"It's a fish!" declared the girl, as with a trail of phosphorescence ahuge object darted under the keel and disappeared in the darkness."That shark."
"Or another one," rejoined Peter. "There's one blessing: it isn't awhale. Chup rao!" he called out to the jabbering lascars.
In two or three minutes the awakened members of the boat's crew hadrelapsed into slumber. Peter swung the boat back on her course, andhanded the tiller to the girl.
"I'll have a cigarette, if you don't mind," he said.
"And one for me, old thing, while you are about it," added a bass voicefrom the stern-sheets.
"By Jove, Preston, I thought you were sound asleep," remarked Peter, ashe placed a cigarette to the Acting Chief's lips.
"Keeping an eye on you, old thing," retorted Preston, with brutalcandour, then in a lower tone he added.
"Don't say a word to the girl, but I believe we've sprung a leak. Hearthat? It's not the water lapping the boat's sides. It's watertrickling in fairly fast. Put a lascar on with the baler. That oughtto keep it under until we can see what's wrong."
"Right-o," rejoined Mostyn.
He began to make his way for'ard, moving cautiously past the tent inwhich Mrs. Shallop was breathing stertorously. But before he could getto the nearest of the three Indians a wild shriek rent the air.
For the moment Peter was under the mistaken impression that he hadtrodden upon the sleeping form of Mrs. Shallop, but his fears on thatscore were corrected by the lady exclaiming:
"We're sinking. I'm in the water. Let me out! Let me out!"
It was some time before the Wireless Officer could release the woman.She had laced the flap of the improvised tent from the inside,finishing up with a wondrous and intricate knot. In the darkness thetask was even more difficult. Peter solved it by wrenching one side ofthe canvas away from the gunwale, and was rewarded by being capsized bythe impact of Mrs. Shallop's ponderous and decidedly moist figure.
Meanwhile Mahmed, acting upon his own initiative, had lighted the lamp.By the uncertain light Peter found that his fears were realized. Waterwas spurting in through a rent in the canvas patch on the gar-boardstrake.
A long, pointed object attracted his attention. It was the beak of alarge sword-fish. The creature had come into violent contact with theboat, driving the formidable "sword" completely through the temporaryplanking, two thicknesses of heavy canvas, and the intervening paddingof clay. The bone had broken off short, but the worst of the businesswas that the sudden wrench had split the piece of elm forming theoutside of the patch, and through the long narrow orifice thus made,gallons of the Indian Ocean were pouring into the boat.
Desperately Peter strove to wrench the sword clear of the hole. Itswayed easily enough, but no amount of force at the Wireless Officer'scommand enabled him to remove the long, tapering horn.
"Bale away!" he exclaimed to the lascars, who were inertly watchingtheir sahib's efforts to free the swordfish's formidable spike. "Bale,or we'll sink."
"If you can't pull it out, push it back, old son," exclaimed Preston.
Glancing up, Peter found the Acting Chief in a sitting position,supporting himself with one hand grasping the after thwart.
Mostyn acted upon the advice, but he proceeded warily. It was a fairlyeasy matter to knock out the sword with a metal crutch--it was merelydriving out an elongated wedge--but the question arose whether anydisplay of force would prise the temporary planking from its fastenings.
At last to his satisfaction he felt the horny spike giving. After thatit moved easily. Peter pushed its point completely clear of the boat,but the next instant the water poured in with redoubled violence, aphosphorescent waterspout rising a good eight or ten inches above thekelson.
Seizing a piece of canvas Peter wedged it into the gaping hole. Theinflow was appreciably checked, but in order to withstand the pressureit was necessary for some one to hold the "stopper" in position, untilrepairs of a more substantial nature could be effected.
Calling to one of the lascars, Peter bade him carry on with theplugging process.
Hot, wellnigh breathless, and spent with his exertions, Peter sat up.He glanced aft. The feeble light from the binnacle showed him thatOlive was at the helm, calm and collected. Throughout the anxious fiveminutes she had kept the boat on her course with the skill of amaster-mind--a vivid contrast to the hysterical woman whose incapacityin a tight corner belied her oft-repeated statement as to her navalforbears.
And during that five minutes the breeze had freshened considerably.Already the seas were breaking viciously, their white crests showingominously in the darkness. Another peril faced the crew. Could thebadly strained and leaking boat withstand the onslaught of thethreatened storm?
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