Chapter 18. A Risky Trip

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_ CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. A RISKY TRIP

But the old fisherman did not return, and they took down mast, sail, oars, and boat-hook, cast the little craft loose, jumped in, and skilfully sent her along the channel, without startling any mullet this time. Then the tunnel was reached, passed through, a good thrust or two given, and the boat glided out over the transparent waves, Mike thrusting an oar from the stern and sculling her along till they were well out from the shelter of the rocks, when he drew in his oar and helped to step the little mast and hoist the sail. In a few minutes more they were gliding swiftly along, with Vince cautiously holding the sheet and Mike steering.

"As if we couldn't manage a boat!" cried Vince, laughing. "Starboard a little, Ladle. Rocks."

Mike knew the sunken rocks, though, as well as he, and carefully gave them a wide berth; while, as they reached out farther from the land and caught the full power of the soft south-westerly breeze, the boat careened over, the water rattled beneath her bows, and away they went, steering so as to clear the point and get well abreast of the Scraw before going in to investigate, and try if there was an easy way of reaching the sheltered rounded cove.

For some time every rock and point was perfectly familiar; they knew every cavern and rift, and talked and chatted about the days when they had fished here, gone egging there, and climbed up or descended yonder; but after a time the rocks began to look strange.

"Good job for us that Joe's place is on the other side of the island," said Vince cheerily. "I say, what a game if he saw the boat going along, and took out his old glass to try and make out what craft it was?"

"But he isn't this side," said Mike. "I say, think there are any rocks out here?--because I don't know them."

"I don't think there can be," said Vince. "Remember coming out here with your father a year ago?"

"Yes," said Mike; "but we were half a mile farther out, because he said something about the current."

"Well, of course I don't know," said Vince; "but the water looks smooth and deep. We should soon see it working and boiling up if there were any rough rocks at the bottom."

"Or near the top," said Mike thoughtfully. "Now, look: oughtn't we to be seeing the ridge over the Scraw by this time?"

"Not yet," replied Vince, who was carefully scanning the coast now. "We've only just passed the point; and it must be yonder, farther along."

They both scanned the cliffs very carefully, but they all looked much the same--grey, forbidding, and grand, as they towered up from the water, nowhere showing a place where any one could land.

"I say," cried Vince suddenly, "we're going along at a pretty good rate, aren't we?"

"Yes, I was thinking so. Too fast: take in a bit of canvas."

Vince did not speak for a few moments, but gazed from the sail to the surface of the smooth sea and back again two or three times.

"'Tisn't the sail that carries us along so," he said at last; "she only just fills, and hardly pulls at the sheet at all. Ladle, old chap, we're in a current that's carding us along at a tremendous rate."

Mike looked at him in alarm, but Vince went on coolly.

"There's nothing to mind, so long as we keep a sharp look-out for rocks. The old boat would crush up like an egg if she went on one now. Here, Ladle, quick! Look there!"

"What at?"

"The rocks. I mean the cliffs. Ah! port! port!--quick."

Mike obeyed, and none too soon, for as Vince was calling his attention to the shape of the cliffs ashore, a rough, sharp pinnacle of rock rose some ten feet out of the water just in front, with others to right and left, and the boat just cleared the principal danger by gliding through a narrow opening and then racing on upon the other side.

Here they found rock after rock standing out, some as much as twenty feet, whitened by the sea-birds, while others were just level with the surface and washed by foam.

The way was literally strewn with dangers, and prudence suggested lowering the sail; but prudence was wrong--quick sailing was the only way to safety, so that they might have speed enough to insure good steering in the rapid current.

"We must keep on going," said Vince, "or we shall be on the rocks, as sure as we live. I say, can you keep an eye on the shore?"

"No: I'm obliged to mind the rocks ahead. You look."

"I can't," said Vince; "it's impossible, with all these shoals about. Look out! here's quite a whirlpool. Port a little more--port!"

The eddy they had to pass was caused by a couple of rocks close to the surface; and in avoiding these they went stern over another, which appeared to rise suddenly out of the clear sea, and was so close that the wonder to them was that they did not touch it. But the little boat drew very little water, and probably they were a few inches above it as they glided on into deep water again.

"That was a close shave," cried Vince. "I say, it's impossible to try and find the way in there while we have to dodge in and out here."

"Think there would be less current closer in?" said Mike.

"No, I don't. Look for yourself: it's rushing along, and there are twice as many rocks. I say, Ladle, we had better get out of this as soon as we can."

Mike said nothing, but he evidently agreed, and sat there steering with his oar over the stern, his teeth set and his brow knit, gazing straight ahead for the many dangers by which they had to pass, before, to their great relief, the last seemed to be past, and they had time to turn their attention toward the shore.

"It's easy enough now," said Vince. "Why, that's North Point, and the Scraw must be half a mile behind!"

The current was now setting right in, as if to cross the most northern point of the island; and knowing from old experience that it was possible to get into a return current close beneath the north cliffs, they steered in, and, the breeze freshening a little, they gradually glided out of the swift race which had been bearing them along, and in a few minutes were about a hundred yards from the cliffs, in deep water, and were being carried slowly in the opposite direction--that is, back towards the place they sought to examine.

"Well, that's right enough," said Vince; "it's a regular backwater, and just what we wanted. We shall do it this time."

"Think there's any danger?" said Mike.

"Not if it keeps like this," replied Vince. "We'll go on, won't we?"

Mike nodded; and making short tacks, helped by the gentle current which was running well inside the rocks, about which they could see the tide surging, they by degrees approached the range of cliffs which they felt must be the outer boundary of the little cove.

"This is grand," said Vince, as they drew nearer. "Why, it's as easy as can be, and any one might have done it if they'd thought of coming here. I say, isn't it deep? This is a regular channel, and I shouldn't be surprised if it takes us straight to the way in, for it's perfectly plain that it can't be out there. No boat could get in--big or little."

"Yes, this seems to be right," said Mike. "See any rocks?"

"Only outside, and they keep off the tide. I say, Mike, there ought to be some good fishing here. I wonder nobody comes."

"Look!" cried Mike; "that is the ridge of rocks we can see across the cove."

"How do you know?"

"Because it's so covered with cormorants and gulls. Then there ought to be an opening somewhere a bit farther--"

"Look out, Mike! Starboard!--hard, or we shall be on that great snag."

As he spoke Vince seized the sail and swung it across, so as to send the boat upon another tack, and as he did so there was a jerk which nearly threw them overboard, a strange scraping, jarring sensation, and the boat's head was swung round, and she was borne rapidly along once more by the current which they had experienced before.

For the fierce race suddenly swept about the rock they had grazed, catching the boat and treating it as if it had been a cork, leaving the boys to devote all their energies to steering, to avoid the rocks which studded their course.

"Just the same game over again," said Vince, "only we're about a hundred yards nearer in, and the rocks are closer together."

Their experience of half an hour before was being repeated, but with added perils in the shape of larger rocks, while, to make matters worse, water was rapidly rising in the boat, one of whose planks had been started when they struck.

Vince was seaman enough to know what to do, and, warning his companion to keep a sharp look-out ahead, he took off his jacket, and then dragged the jersey shirt he wore over his head. Kneeling in the bottom of the boat, he proceeded to stuff the worsted garment into a jagged hole, through which the clear water came bubbling up like some spring.

Mike had glanced at the bubbling water once, and shuddered slightly; but he did not speak then, for there was a great rock right in front, towards which the boat was rushing, with the sail well-filled, and having the leeward gunwale low down by the surface.

But Mike did not even wince. The current was racing them along, while the wind was fresher now, and as the boy pressed down the blade of the oar he could feel that the boat was fully under his control--that it was like some great fish of which he was the tail, and that he had only to give one good stroke with the oar blade to send the prow to right or left as he willed.

And, as Vince patted and stuffed the woollen jersey as tightly as he could into the place where the water rushed up, Mike sat fast, till with a rush they glided by the dangerous rock, and the boy strained his eyes to catch the next danger.

Nothing was very near, and he spoke.

"Will she sink, Cinder?" he said; and it seemed a long time, in his terrible anxiety, before his companion spoke.

"No. There's a lot of water in, but if you can look out and steer, I can hold the sheet and bale."

He handed the sheet to Mike, crept forward, opened the locker in the bows, and took out an old tin pot kept for the purpose, crept back and took the sheet again, as he knelt down in the water and began to bale, scooping it up, and sending it flying over the side, but without seeming to make much impression.

"Another rock," said Mike.

"All right; you know how to pass it," said Vince, without ceasing his work, but sending the water flying to leeward; and for the next quarter of an hour he did not cease--not even turning his head when they went dangerously near rock after rock.

It was only when, with a deep, catching sigh, Mike said that the current did not seem so strong, that he looked up and saw that the rocky point of the island was nearly a couple of miles away.

"Which way shall I steer?" said Mike; and Vince stood up to take in their position.

"If we go round the point with the tide we shall have to fight against the wind and the current that sets along the west shore," he said. "That won't do. We must go back the way we came."

"What, against that mill race?" cried Mike in dismay.

"No: couldn't do it. We must stand out more to sea."

"Out to sea!" cried Mike, aghast: "with the boat filling with water?"

"Well, we can't go the other way. Besides, if we did old Joe would see us pass by, and there'd be a row."

"Well, he must know. He'll see the hole in the bottom,--if we get back," Mike muttered to himself. "But, Vince," he cried, "hadn't we better run ashore somewhere?"

"Yes: where's it to be?" said the boy, with a curious laugh. "Nonsense! We should only sink her at once. There, I must go on baling. It's the only thing we can do, Mikey. Turn her head to it, and run right across the tide. It's getting slacker here. Keep her head well to it. I won't let her sink."

Mike groaned.

"Hullo!" cried Vince cheerily, "is it hard work?"

There was no reply, but the boat careened over as from the fresh pressure of the oar the sail caught the full force of the wind, and they began to run swiftly towards the south-east, right out to sea, but with the intent of running back after reaching well out to south of the island.

It seemed like madness, with the boat leaking as she did, but Vince was right. It was their only chance; and after a few minutes he said, as if to himself:

"I'm going to do a stupid thing. I ought to hold that sheet in my hand, but I want both for baling. Be on the look-out, Ladle. Mind you throw her up in the wind if she goes over too much."

As he spoke he made the sheet fast, rolled up his sleeves, and, taking the pot in both hands, began to make the water fly over the side.

"I say, Ladle," he cried, "when I'm tired you'll have to take a turn; but don't she go along splendidly with all this water ballast in her?"

"Yes," said Mike huskily. "Are you getting it down?"

"Yes, a little. Not much; but if you sail her well we shall run in all right."

"Aren't we going out too far to sea?"

"No; just right. Now, then, don't talk. I want all my breath for working."

Setting his teeth, the boy baled away, and by slow degrees lowered the water a good deal; but he could not cease for a moment, for it surged in through the leak, nor did he dare to push the jersey farther, for fear of loosening the plank more and making a bigger hole.

This went on for fully half an hour, with the island getting more and more distant, and Mike twice over asked if it was not time to make for the shore.

But Vince shook his head, after a glance back at the south point, and worked away at the baling.

"Now," he said suddenly, "I want to go on, but I'm getting slow. Be ready to jump into my place and scoop it out. I'll catch hold of the oar. Ready?"

"Yes."

"Now then."

The exchange was quickly effected, the water sent flying with more energy, and Vince pressed upon the oar as he rested himself, and sent the brave little boat faster through the sea.

"You're giving it to her too hard," remonstrated Mike, as the gunwale went down dangerously near the surface.

"No, I'm not. You hold your tongue and bale," said Vince fiercely. "Keep it down."

Mike worked as he had never worked before, but he could not get the water an inch lower than Vince had left it. Still he never slackened his pace, though he felt sure that it was gaining upon him, and that before long the boat would begin to sink.

At last he could contain himself no longer, and with a hoarse gasp he cried:

"It's of no use, Vince; she's going down."

"No, she isn't," said the boy quietly; "and she can't go down if we pitch out those two big pieces of iron ballast. She'll go over on her side, and we shall have to hold on if it comes to the worst; but I think I can send her in, Ladle, if you can keep on baling."

"Yes, I can keep on," said Mike faintly.

"Tell me when you're beat out, and I'll begin again."

Mike nodded.

"But keep on till you're ready to drop, so as to give me all the rest you can, for my arms feel like bits of wood."

Mike jerked his head again, and the water went on flying out, looking like a shower of gold in the late afternoon sunshine, till Vince shouted to his companion, in regular nautical parlance, to stand by with the sail.

Mike sprang up and loosened the sheet, standing ready to swing the yard over to the other side. Vince threw the boat up in the wind, the sail swung over, filled for the other tack, and they both began to breathe freely as they glided now toward the south point of the island, where a jutting-up mass of rock, looking dim in the distance, showed where the archway and tunnel lay which led into old Joe's little natural dock.

"Shall we do it, Cinder?" said Mike faintly, as he made fast the sheet on the other side.

"Do it?--yes, of course," cried Vince stoutly. "There, my arms are not so numb and full of pins and needles now. Come here and steer."

"No, I can do a little more," said Mike.

"No, you can't. Obey orders always at sea," cried Vince fiercely; and the exchange of position was made; but there was a full two inches more water in the boat, and as Vince began to bale he did so from where he could at any time seize the pieces of pig iron and tilt them over. In fact, several times he felt disposed to do so, but shrank from it as being a last resource, and from dread lest the act should in any way interfere with the boat's speed.

Over went the water in the sunshine; and as the boy baled, from looking golden, it by slow degrees grew of an orange tint, and sparkled gloriously, but a deadly feeling of weakness fixed more and more upon Vince's arms, and as he toiled he knew that before long he must give up to his companion once again. But still he kept on, though it was more and more slowly; and the despair that he had kept to himself was not quite so terrible, for the south point gradually grew nearer, and he had the satisfaction of feeling that he could manage a boat at sea, and well too, for the course they were steering was dead for the tunnel rock, and, could he keep the boat afloat for another twenty minutes or half an hour, they would be safe.

"Come and steer now?" said Mike.

"No," was grunted out; and Vince baled away till the pot dropped from his hands, and he rose and took the oar, pressing it to his chest, and steering by the weight of his body.

Once more the water flew out faster; but Mike was only making a spurt, and his arm moved more and more slowly, till, with a groan, he said feebly:

"I can't do it any longer."

Vince made no reply, but gazed straight before him, seeing the jutting-up rock as if through a mist, while the water bubbled in through the leak, and rose, and rose, without an effort being made to lower it now.

Would she float till they were close in?--would she float till they were close in?--would she float till they were close in? It was as if some one kept on saying this in Vince's ears, as they rushed on, with the rock nearer and nearer, as if coming out of the mist, till it stood out bright in the setting sunlight, and the mental vapour was dispersed by the feeling of exultation which surged through the steersman's breast. For all at once it seemed that safety was within touch; and, turning the boat head to wind, she glided slowly up to the opening in the rock, while the sail flapped and the two boys quickly lowered and furled it, unstepped the mast, and then thrust her in with the boat-hook, reaching the little dock as if in a dream.

Vince staggered as he stepped out on to the granite stones to make the boat fast, and Mike was in little better condition; but by degrees the suffocating sensation which oppressed them grew less painful, and they slowly and laboriously carried oars, spars and sail up to their place of stowage. Then Vince returned to the boat, thrust down his hand and drew out his jersey, Mike taking hold of one end to help him wring it out.

They had neither of them spoken for some time; but at last Vince said: "We shall have to pay old Joe for the mending of the boat."

"I say, Vince," said Mike, in a low, husky tone, "oughtn't we to be thinking about something else? It was very near, wasn't it?"

"Yes," said Vince, with a passionate outburst, "I was thinking of something else;" and he threw himself down upon a huge piece of wave-worn granite and hid his face on his arm.

Half an hour later, the two lads walked slowly home, feeling as grave and sober as a couple of old men, knowing as they did that, though the evening sunshine had been full in their eyes, the shadow of death had hovered very near. _

Read next: Chapter 19. Having It Out With The Enemy

Read previous: Chapter 17. Pirates Or Smugglers? How To Prove It

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