XXV
A SIGNAL OF DISTRESS
THE _Hunkydory_ was loaded to the point of inconvenience when, aboutnoon, she set sail again. For it was the purpose of the boys to maketheir way to Quasi quickly now, stopping only long enough here andthere to replenish their supply of game and fish, and they wanted to befree to stay as long as they pleased at Quasi, when at last they shouldreach that place, without being compelled to hurry away in search ofsupplies. Accordingly they bought at Beaufort all the hard bread,coffee and other such things that they could in any wise induce thedory to make room for.
“Never mind, Dory dear,” Cal said to the boat as he squeezed in a dozencans of condensed milk for which it was hard to find a place. “Nevermind, Dory dear; with four such appetites as ours to help you out, yourload will rapidly grow lighter, and when we get to Quasi we’ll relieveyou of it altogether.”
It was planned to establish a comfortable little camp at Quasi, to huntand fish at will, to rest when that seemed the best thing to do, and toindulge in that limitless talk which intelligent boys rejoice in whenfreed for a time from all obligation to do anything else. In short, aconsiderable period of camping at Quasi had come to be regarded as themain purpose of the voyage. With their guns and their fishing tackle,the boys had no concern for their meat supply, but, as Cal said:
“We can’t expect to flush coveys of ship biscuit or catch coffeeon tight lines, so we must take as much as we can of that sort ofprovender.”
About two o’clock on the afternoon of the third day of their voyagefrom Beaufort the boat was lazily edging her way through an almostperfectly smooth sea, with just a sufficient suggestion of breeze togive her steerage way. Tom was at the tiller, with next to nothing todo there. Larry and Dick were dozing in the shadow of the mainsail,while Cal, after his custom, was watching the porpoises at play and thegulls circling about overhead and everything else that could be watchedwhether there was any apparent reason for watching it or not.
Presently he turned to Tom and, indicating his meaning by aninclination of the head toward a peninsula five or six miles away,which had just come into view as the boat cleared a marsh island, said:
“That’s it.”
“What’s it? and what is it?” asked Tom, too indolent now to disentanglehis sentences.
“Quasi,” said Cal.
“Where?”
“Over the port bow. Change your course a little to starboard—there’s amud bank just under water ahead and we must sail round it.”
“Quasi at last!” exclaimed Tom gleefully, as he pushed the helm to portand hauled in the sheet a trifle in order to spill none of the all tooscanty breeze.
Instantly Dick and Larry were wide awake, and for a time conversationquickened as Cal pointed out the salient features of the land ahead.
“How far away do you reckon it, Cal?” asked Dick.
“About five miles.”
“Is it clear water? Can we lay a straight course?”
“Yes, after we clear this mud bank. A little more to starboard, Tom, oryou’ll go aground.”
“We ought to make it by nightfall then,” said Larry—“unless thisplaything of a breeze fails us entirely.”
“We’ll make it sooner than that,” said Dick, standing up and steadyinghimself by the mast. “Look, Cal. There’s business in that.”
Dick had seen white caps coming in between two islands ahead, and hadrightly judged that in her present position the dory was temporarilyblanketed by a great island that lay between it and the sea.
“I don’t need to stand up,” answered Cal, “and it’s hot. I saw the searunning in ahead. I’d have suggested a resort to the oars if I hadn’t.As it is, we’ll toy with this infantile zephyr for half an hour more.By that time we’ll clear the land here and set our caps on a littletighter or have them carried away. That’s a stiff blow out there, andby the way, we’re catching the ragged edges of it already. A littlemore to starboard, Tom, and jibe the boom over.”
“It’ll be windward work all the way,” said Larry, as he looked outahead.
“So much the better,” said Cal, who found something to rejoice in inevery situation. “It’ll blow the ‘hot’ off us before we make Quasi, andbesides, there’s nothing like sailing on the wind if the wind happensto be stiff enough.”
“It’ll be stiff enough presently,” said Larry; then after looking aboutfor a moment, he added: “I only hope we sha’n’t ship enough water todampen down our clothes. The dory is _very_ heavily loaded.”
“Don’t worry,” said Dick. “She’s built to carry a heavy load in a roughsea and a high wind. In fact, she points up better and foots better,carries herself better every way when she has a load on than when shehasn’t.”
“H’m!” muttered Cal, going to the helm where Tom was manifesting somedistrust of his own skill in the freshening wind and the “lumpy” seawaythey were beginning to meet. “I’ve known men to think they were likethe _Hunkydory_ in that.”
“Diagram it, Cal,” said Larry.
“Oh, I’ve seen men who thought they could do things better with a ‘loadon’ than without. Trim ship! I’m going to take the other tack.”
Then, as the boat heeled over to starboard, her rail fairly making thewater boil, Cal completed his sentence. “But they were mistaken.”
“It’s different with boats,” Dick answered; “and besides, the dory’s‘load’ is of quite another sort.”
Sailing on the wind with a skittish boat of the dory type is about asexhilarating a thing, when the wind pipes high and the sea surges whitewith foam, as can be imagined. In order that the pleasure of it mightnot all be his, Cal presently surrendered the tiller to Dick, who inhis turn gave it over to Larry after his own pulses were set a-tingle.Larry offered Tom his turn, but Tom modestly refused, doubting thesufficiency of his skill for such work as this.
“The tools to those who can use them, is sound philosophy, I think,” hesaid in refusing. “Besides, I don’t want to be responsible if we turnturtle before we reach Quasi, after all our trouble.”
After half an hour or so of speedy windward work the _Hunkydory_drew near enough to Quasi for Cal to study details of the shore linesomewhat. Lying in the bow, just under the jib, he was silently butdiligently engaged in scrutinizing every feature he could make out ina shore that lay half a mile or a trifle more away. The others askedhim questions now and then, but he made no answer. Under his generalinstructions the dory was skirting along the shore, making short legs,so as to maintain her half mile distance until Cal should find theplace he was looking for as a landing.
Presently he turned and spoke to Dick, who was now at the tiller again.
“Run in a quarter of a mile, Dick, and bring us nearer shore,” he said.
Dick obeyed, while Cal seemed to be studying something on shore withmore than ordinary interest. Presently he said:
“There’s something wrong over there. As soon as we round the pointahead, Dick, you’ll have fairly sheltered water and sloping sands.Beach her there.”
“What is it, Cal? What’s the matter? Why do you say there’s somethingwrong?” These questions were promptly hurled at Cal’s head by hiscompanions.
“Look!” he answered. “Do you see the little flag up there on top of thebluff? It is flying union down—a signal of distress. But I can’t makeout anybody there. Can any of you?”
All eyes were strained now, but no living thing could be seen anywherealong the shore. Tom ventured a suggestion:
“The flag is badly faded and a good deal whipped out, as if it had beenflying there for a long time. Perhaps the people who put it up have alldied since.”
“No, they haven’t,” answered Cal.
“Why, do you see anybody?”
“No. But I see a little curling smoke that probably rises from a halfburned-out camp-fire.”
“It’s all right then?” half asked, half declared Tom.
“You forget the flag flying union down, Tom. That isn’t suggestive ofall-rightness.
Bring her around quick, Dick, and beach her there justunder the bluff!”
Half a minute more and the dory lay with her head well up on thesloping sand. The boys all leaped ashore except Larry, who busiedhimself housing the mast and sails and making things snug. The restscrambled up the bluff, which was an earth bank about twenty feet highand protected at its base by a closely welded oyster bank.