LUCKILY the water was only four feet deep, as Charley found when he tried to touch bottom; so he stopped swimming, and, with the water nearly up to his shoulders, stood still and began to think what to do next.
The canoes—including the sunken Midnight—were a good mile from the shore, and although the sandy shoal on which Charley was standing was firm and hard it was of small extent, and the water all around it was too deep to be waded.
“You’ll have to get into one of our canoes,” said Harry.
“How am I going to do it without capsizing her?” replied Charley.
“I don’t believe it can be done,” said Harry, as he looked first at the Sunshine and then at the Twilight; “but then you’ve got to do it somehow. You can’t swim a whole mile, can you?”
“Of course I can’t, but then it wouldn’t do me any good to spill one of you fellows by trying to climb out of the water into a canoe that’s as full now as she ought to be. Besides, I’m not going to desert the Midnight.”
“I thought the Midnight had deserted you,” said Joe. “If my canoe should go to the bottom of the lake without giving me any warning, I shouldn’t think it a bit rude to leave her there.”
“Don’t talk nonsense!” exclaimed Charley; “but come here and help me get my canoe afloat again. We can do it, I think, if we go to work the right way.”
Charley found no difficulty in getting hold of the painter of his canoe with the help of his paddle. Giving the end of the painter to Joe, he took the Dawn’s painter, and by ducking down under the water succeeded after two or three attempts in reeving it through the stern-post of the sunken canoe, and giving one end to Harry and the other to Tom. Then, taking the bow painter from Joe, he grasped it firmly with both hands, and at a given signal all the boys, except Joe, made a desperate effort to bring the wreck to the surface.
They could not do it. They managed to raise her off the bottom, but Harry and Tom in their canoes could not lift to any advantage, and so were forced to let her settle down again.
“I’ve got to unload her,” said Charley, gloomily. “I think we can get her up if there is nothing in her except water. Anyhow we’ve got to try.”
It was tiresome work to get the water-soaked stores and canned provisions out of the canoe, and Charley had to duck his head under the water at least a dozen times before the heaviest part of the Midnight’s cargo could be brought up and passed into the other canoes. His comrades wanted to jump overboard and help him, but he convinced them that they would have great difficulty in climbing back into their canoes, and that in all probability they would capsize themselves in so doing. “He’s right!” cried Joe. “Commodore, please make an order that hereafter only one canoe shall be wrecked at a time. We must keep some dry stores in the fleet.”
When the Midnight was partly unloaded a new and successful effort was made to raise her. As soon as she reached the surface Charley rolled her over, bottom upward, and in this position the small amount of air imprisoned under her kept her afloat.
The cause of the leak was quickly discovered. There was a hole through her canvas bottom nearly an inch in diameter, made by some blow she had received while on the way to the lake. The wonder was, not that she sunk when she did, but that she had floated long enough to be paddled a mile. It is probable that the ballast-bag, which was close by the hole, had partly stopped the leak at first, but had afterward been slightly moved, thus permitting the water to rush freely in.
The surface of painted canvas dries very quickly in the hot sun, and it was not long before the bottom of the Midnight was dry enough to be temporarily patched. Harry lighted his spirit-lamp and melted a little of the lump of rosin and tallow which had been provided for mending leaks. This was spread over a patch of new canvas: the patch was then placed over the hole, and more of the melted rosin and tallow smeared over it. In about fifteen minutes the patch was dry enough to be serviceable, and Charley righted the canoe, hailed her out, and by throwing himself across the cockpit, and then carefully turning himself so as to get his legs into it, found himself once more afloat and ready to paddle.
The canoe still leaked, but the leak could be kept under without difficulty by occasional bailing, and in the course of half an hour the sand-spit for which the fleet had started was reached. It was part of a large island with steep, rocky shores and a beautiful little sandy beach. It was just the place for a camp; and though the boys had expected to camp some miles farther north, the sinking of Charley’s canoe had so delayed them that it was already nearly six o’clock, and they therefore decided to paddle no farther that day.
The canoes were hauled out on the beach, and unloaded and shored up with their rudders, backboards, and a few pieces of drift-wood so as to stand on an even keel. Then came the work of rigging shelters over them for the night. Harry’s canoe-tent was supported by four small upright sticks resting on the deck and fitting into cross-pieces sewed into the roof of the tent. The sides and ends buttoned down to the gunwale and deck of the canoe, and two curtains, one on each side, which could be rolled up like carriage-curtains in fair weather and buttoned down in rainy weather, served both as the doors and windows of the tent. The shelters rigged by the other boys were much less complete. The two masts of each canoe were stepped, the paddle was lashed between them, and a rubber blanket was hung over the paddle, with its edges reaching nearly to the ground. The blankets and the bags which served as pillows were then arranged, and the canoes were ready for the night.
It was a warm and clear night, and a breeze which came up from the south at sunset blew the mosquitoes away. Harry found his tent, with the curtains rolled up, cool and pleasant; but his fellow-canoeists found themselves fairly suffocating under their rubber blankets, and were compelled to throw them aside.
Toward morning, when the day was just beginning to dawn, the canoeists were suddenly awakened by a rush of many heavy, trampling feet which shook the ground. It was enough to startle any one, and the boys sprung up in such a hurry that Harry struck his head against the roof of his tent, knocked it down, upset the canoe, and could not at first decide whether he was taking part in a railway collision or whether an earthquake of the very best quality had happened. The cause of the disturbance was a herd of horses trotting down to the water’s edge to drink. There were at least twenty of them, and had the canoes happened to be in their path they might have stumbled over them in the faint morning light; in which case the boys would have had the experience of being shipwrecked on dry land.
A gentle southerly breeze wrinkled the water while breakfast was cooking, and the Commodore ordered that the masts and sails should be got ready for use. It was impossible to make an early start, for Charley’s blankets had to be dried in the sun, and the hole in his canoe had to be repaired with a new patch in a thorough and workmanlike way. It was, therefore, ten o’clock before the canoes were ready to be launched; and in the mean time the wind had increased so much that the boys decided to use only their main-sails.
The moment the sails drew the canoes shot off at a pace which filled the young canoeists with delight. The canoes were in good trim for sailing, as they were not overloaded; and while they were skirting the west shore of the island the water was quite smooth. Each canoe carried a bag partly filled with sand for ballast, and every one except Joe had lashed his ballast-bag to the keelson. This was a precaution which Joe had forgotten to take, and before long he had good reason to regret his error.
As soon as the northern end of the island was passed the canoes came to a part of the lake where there was quite a heavy sea. The Dawn and the Twilight were steered by the paddle, which passed through a row-lock provided for the purpose; and Joe and Tom found little difficulty in keeping their canoes directly before the wind. The two other canoes were steered with rudders, and occasionally, when their bows dipped, their rudders were thrown nearly out of the water, in consequence of which they steered wildly. All the canoes showed a tendency to roll a good deal, and now and then a little water would wash over the deck. It was fine sport running down the lake with such a breeze, and the boys enjoyed it immensely.
The wind continued to rise, and the lake became covered with white-caps. “Commodore,” said Charley Smith, “I don’t mean to show any disrespect to my commanding officer, but it seems to me this is getting a little risky.”
“How is it risky?” asked Harry. “You’re a sailor and know twice as much about boats as I do, if I am Commodore.”
“It’s risky in two or three ways. For instance, if the wind blows like this much longer a following sea will swamp some one of us.”
“Oh! we’re going fast enough to keep out of the way of the sea,” cried Joe.
“Just notice how your canoe comes almost to a dead stop every time she sinks between two seas, and you won’t feel quite so sure that you’re running faster than the sea is.”
The boys saw that Charley was right. The canoes were so light that they lost their headway between the seas, and it was evident that they were in danger of being overtaken by a following sea.
“Tell us two or three more dangers, just to cheer us up, won’t you?” asked Joe, who was in high spirits with the excitement of the sail.
“There’s the danger of rolling our booms under, and there is a great deal of danger that Harry’s canoe and mine will broach-to when our rudders are out of water.”
“What will happen if they do broach-to?”
“They’ll capsize, that’s all,” replied Charley.
“What had we better do?” asked Harry. “There’s no use in capsizing ourselves in the middle of the lake.”
“My advice is that we haul on the port tack, and run over to the west shore. The moment we get this wind and sea on the quarter we shall be all right—though, to be sure, we’ve got more sail up than we ought to have.”
The canoes were quite near together, with the exception of the Twilight, which was outsailing the others; but even she was still near enough to be hailed. Harry hailed her, and ordered the fleet to steer for a cove on the west shore. As soon as the wind was brought on the port quarter the canoes increased their speed; and although the Twilight made more leeway than the others, she drew ahead of them very fast. The wind was now precisely what the canoes wanted to bring out their sailing qualities. The Sunshine soon showed that she was the most weatherly, as the Twilight was the least weatherly, of the fleet. The Midnight kept up very fairly with the Sunshine; and the Dawn, with her small lateen-sail, skimmed over the water so fast that it was evident that if she could have carried the big balance-lug of the Sunshine she would easily have beaten her.
The canoes were no longer in danger of being swamped; but the wind continuing to rise, the boys found that they were carrying more sail than was safe. They did not want to take in their sails and paddle, and though all of the sails except the Dawn’s lateen could be reefed, nobody wanted to be the first to propose to reef; and Harry, in his excitement, forgot all about reefing. The wind, which had been blowing very steadily, now began to blow in gusts, and the boys had to lean far out to windward to keep their canoes right side up.
“We can’t keep on this way much longer without coming to grief,” Charley cried at the top of his lungs, so that Harry, who was some distance to windward, could hear him.
“What do you say?” replied Harry.
“We’ve got too much sail on,” yelled Charley.
“Of course we’ll sail on. This is perfectly gorgeous!” was Harry’s answer.
“He don’t hear,” said Charley. “I say, Joe, you’d better take in your main-sail, and set the dandy in its place. You’ll spill yourself presently.”
“The dandy’s stowed down below, where I can’t get at it. I guess I can hold her up till we get across.”
Tom was by this time far out of hailing distance, and was apparently getting on very well. Charley did not doubt that he could manage his own canoe well enough, but he was very uneasy about Harry and Joe, who did not seem to realize that they were carrying sail altogether too recklessly. The fleet was nearly two miles from the shore, and a capsize in the heavy sea that was running would have been no joke.
Charley turned part way around in his canoe to see if his life-belt was in handy reach. As he did so he saw that the water a quarter of a mile to windward was black with a fierce squall that was approaching. He instantly brought his canoe up to the wind, so that the squall would strike him on the port bow, and called out to Harry and Joe to follow his example. Harry did not hear him, and Joe, instead of promptly following Charley’s advice, stopped to wonder what he was trying to do. The squall explained the matter almost immediately. It struck the Sunshine and the Dawn, and instantly capsized them, and then rushed on to overtake Tom, and to convince him that Lake Memphremagog is not a good place for inexperienced canoeists who want to carry sail recklessly in squally weather.
