Part 9 (1/2)
”Since I can't kedge her with this breeze, I'll take a line ash.o.r.e and warp her in,” he said.
It appeared advisable, for there were more pine-logs coming down, and he pitched a coil of rope into the canoe; but the rest, as he discovered, was much more difficult. Jimmy had been used to boats in which one could stand up and row, while a Siwash river canoe is a very different kind of craft. As a result, he several times almost capsized her, and lost a good deal of ground when a gust struck her lifted prow; so that some time had pa.s.sed when the line brought him up still a few yards from the beach. He looked around at the _Sorata_ with a shout.
”I want a few more fathoms,” he called. ”Can you fasten on the other line, Miss Merril?”
He saw the girl, who moved forward along the deck, stop and clutch at a shroud, but that was all, for just then the dark firs roared and the water seethed white about him as he plied the paddle. The canoe turned around in spite of him, drove out into the stream, and, while he strove desperately to steer her, struck the _Sorata_ with a crash. The boat lifted her side a little as he swung himself on board, and there was a curious harsh grating forward. Anthea, who stepped down into the c.o.c.kpit, had lost her hat, and her hair whipped her face.
”I think she has started her anchor,” she said.
Jimmy was sure of it when he ran forward and let several fathoms of chain run without bringing her up, for the bottom was apparently s.h.i.+ngle washed down from the hillside.
”We'll have to get the kedge over,” he said.
He dropped unceremoniously into the saloon, where Miss Austerly lay on the settee, and tore up the floorings, beneath which, as s.p.a.ce is valuable on board a craft of the _Sorata_'s size, the smaller anchor is sometimes kept. He could not, however, find it anywhere, and when he swung himself, hot and breathless, out on deck, the yacht was driving seaward stern foremost, taking her anchor with her, while the whole Inlet was ridged with lines of white. Anthea Merril looked at him with suppressed apprehension in her eyes.
”We must get a warp ash.o.r.e somehow,” he said. ”I might sheer her in under the staysail.”
The girl went forward with him, and gasped as they hauled together at the halyard which hoisted the sail; and when half of it was up, she sped aft to the tiller, and Jimmy made desperate efforts to shorten in the cable. There was another cove not far astern into which he might work the boat. The anchor, however, came away before he expected it, and, though he did not think it was the girl's fault, the half-hoisted sail swung over, and the _Sorata_, in place of creeping back toward the beach, drove away toward the opposite sh.o.r.e, where the stream swept over ragged rock. Jimmy, jumping aft, seized the tiller, and while the Inlet seethed into little splas.h.i.+ng ridges the _Sorata_ swept on seaward with the breeze astern. He stood still a moment, gasping, and then, while the girl looked at him with inquiring eyes, signed her to take the helm again.
”I must get the trysail on her, and try to beat her back. We may be able to do it--I don't know,” he said. ”It's deep water along those rocks, and she'd chafe through and go down; otherwise I'd ram her ash.o.r.e.”
He spent several arduous minutes tearing every spare sail out of the stern locker before he reached the one he wanted, and it was at least five minutes more before he had laced it to its gaff, while by then there were only jagged rocks, over which the sea that washed into the open entrance to the Inlet seethed whitely, under the _Sorata_'s lee.
Jimmy glanced at them, and quietly lashed the trysail gaff to the boom before he turned to Anthea Merril.
”I'm sorry,” he said. ”We couldn't stay her under the trysail with the puffs twisting all ways flung back by the trees. Besides, she'd probably drive down upon the reefs before I got it up. It's quite evident we can't go ash.o.r.e there.”
The girl glanced ahead, and her heart sank a little as she saw the long Pacific roll heave across the opening in big gray slopes that were ridged with froth. Then she turned to Jimmy, who stood regarding her gravely in the steamboat jacket, burst shoes, and man-o'-war cap, and a look of confidence crept into her eyes. She felt that this man could be depended on.
”We shall have to run out to sea?” she asked.
Jimmy nodded, and she was glad that he answered frankly, as to one who was his equal in courage.
”There is no help for it,” he said. ”Still, she'll go clear of the sh.o.r.e as she is, and I don't think we need be anxious about her when she's under trysail in open water.”
Anthea looked at him again, with a spot of color in her cheek.
”It may blow for several days,” she said. ”If I can help in any way----”
”You can,” said Jimmy abruptly. ”Go down now and fix Miss Austerly and yourself something to eat. You mightn't be able to do it afterwards.
Then you can bring me up some bread and coffee.”
Anthea disappeared into the saloon with her cheeks tingling and a curious smile in her eyes. She understood what had happened. Now that they were at close grip with the elements, Jimmy had a.s.serted himself in primitive fas.h.i.+on, and he could, she felt, be trusted to do his part.
CHAPTER VIII
JIMMY TAKES COMMAND
Darkness was closing down on the waste of tumbling foam, and the _Sorata_ was clear of the sh.o.r.e, when Jimmy made s.h.i.+ft to hoist the trysail reduced by two reefs to a narrow strip of drenched canvas. Then, while Anthea Merril held the helm, he proceeded to set the little spitfire jib. However, he clung to the weather-shrouds, gasping and dripping with perspiration for the first few moments, because the struggle with the trysail had tried his strength. Indeed, Anthea, who stood bareheaded at the helm with her loosened hair whipping about her, wondered how he had contrived to do it alone in that strength of wind.