Part 5

Adrian understood; it was just a question of waiting, so he varied the monotony by going forward to batten down the forehatch, coil in loose sheets, make fast the anchor, and see that the peak halyard was nowhere hitched or encumbered. Then he returned aft and shut the door of the main cabin, commenting still on the size of one or two splashes, which he declared would have filled the kettle; the door slid along in grooves and was proof against heavy seas or torrents of rain. Then he turned an inventive eye on the dinghy, which was rocking sleepily under their quarter, and suggested that she might be used as a "wind anchor" if she filled up.

"Supposing we get a real howler," said Adrian, "we could make her fast to the bowsprit, you see, and just ride."

It was while they were laughing over this brilliant idea that Crow saw the grey wall coming, and sprang to attention as it were, standing up--an alert grip on the tiller.

It seemed to reach from the bank of blackness to the sea, and shut off the land like a blind. It was coming towards them--coming out to sea ushered by a noise like the rush of rapids--an immense volume of rain water, descending in lines straight as harp strings, and striking the level sea. It was very amazing, and Christobel gazed with awe; she had never seen anything quite like it, because a stretch of land has so many interruptions that you cannot see the _line_ as you can on miles of water. Besides, water striking water like that is a very wonderful thing, foam fringes the edge of it all along, hissing like a boiler.

"This looks as though it meant to hurt our feelings--especially the dinghy's," said Adrian cheerfully, "she isn't used to bad manners."

Crow shrank instinctively as the rush of the advancing thing enveloped the yawl. They were battered by such rain as she had never experienced before, yet once into it, all her dread was dispelled like a nightmare.

Rain fell on the deck like the rattle of bullets, and in a minute the whole place was a wild wash of water pouring through scuppers, water streaming into the well, water heaving and lifting everything that could be pushed out of place. Crow held on to the tiller, but there was nothing doing in the sailing way--yet--nothing but water which seemed to nail them motionless by sheer weight. She glanced aside at the little boat, and saw her filling up swiftly--"Oh, poor dinghy," she gasped aloud--but there was no time to do anything, or even consider doing it, for something was coming at the back of the rain that asked for all her attention.

A puff of strong, chill wind----

_Messenger_ leaned heavily to starboard, the flattened sea seemed to rise up in a line of foam under her quarter, water poured in at the streaming scuppers--and away she went--blinded--battered--drenched--away and away like a hunted creature flying for its life.

Certainly five minutes passed before these two adventurers began to take stock of their situation. So far, they had just let drive, steering the only possible course, straight ahead. At the end of five minutes the force of the downpour began to abate, but the wind was increasing.

As soon as speech was possible Adrian asked where she thought they were going?

The skipper laughed rather tremulously--it had been a strenuous five minutes.

"What about America? We might call on President Wilson. Please remember we can go where we please on the High Seas now! No more permits--no more 'out of bounds'. The question is, where can you get your hair cut?"

"Anywhere will do between here and Land's End," answered Adrian generously.

The rain was pouring off his sou'wester, over his nose. He looked very large and cheerful.

Now this was approximately the moment when Pamela assured her mother--on Adrian's authority--that the voyagers would be on shore at Tamerton or Netheroot! It was no doubt fortunate for Mrs. Romilly that she could not see the facts of the situation.

The straining yawl was driving her way through apparently limitless grey sea, of which the churning foam was taken by a wild wind and flung ahead in stinging mist. The sky, so far as it could be seen, was a froth of whirling cloud; everything was grey and confused--no land--no order--no outline.

"I believe we are going straight out to sea," said Crow.

"Do you?" Adrian was not impressed, "we may be going anywhere--all ways look alike. Jolly untidy view I call it! And look here, what about that wretched dinghy? She's about full up, and to judge by the way she's towing weighs about two ton! In one of these jerks we shall snap the painter; and then--she'll sink like a ton of sand."

Of all things in the world Christobel dreaded what she called "playing with boats" in the open sea, under conditions like the present. She pictured a sickening lurch, Addie overboard--driving to leeward--swallowed up in hideous grey confusion, herself helpless! Her lips grew white, but all she said was:

"Plenty of time yet."

Adrian laughed, flecks of many colours dancing in his hazel eyes.

"How true! And the world before us! I say, Crow, isn't this absolutely top-hole?"

"Hum--hum--please remember, my dear child, that we've got to come back."

"Plenty of time," said Adrian, echoing her words.

"I'll agree with you, when the rain stops, and I can see where we are;" Christobel shook herself as she spoke, and then looked in an interested manner at the wet drippings.

Adrian reverted suddenly to his unpleasant idea about the dinghy. There was no doubt that she was a serious pull back--a heavy and dangerous drag on the yacht. Crow saw it was inevitable, so she made her conditions. Adrian should bail out if she might bring _Messenger_ up into the wind and lie-to, while he chose to poise himself in critical attitudes.

"Otherwise, I simply won't," declared the skipper with decision.

Adrian saw no necessity, of course. There was more zest in a really dangerous operation! However, he made no objection and Crow put the helm hard down. The yawl answered like a horse with a tender mouth. Round she came on a sweeping curve, the wet sails first shivering, and then giving out a succession of loud reports. A moment after and they were on a level keel in comparative quiet, leaping at the waves with some sort of regularity.

"Phew! What a comfort!" exclaimed Christobel, stretching both arms. Then she lashed the jerking tiller, while her brother hauled over the foresail sheets, and braced in the mainsail close.

The wind rushed by them with the same force, but they did not feel it, of course, and there was time to take stock, and put their "house in order", so to speak. Moreover, the skipper had pleasure in the conscious knowledge that if Addie did fall overboard it would be easy enough for him to regain the yawl.

She laughed with sudden joyousness.

"What's the joke?" asked her brother.

"I feel like the frog-footman in _Alice Through the Looking-glass_, 'I shall stay here--on and off--for days, and days'. It's very appropriate to one's wishes."

"Well, we needn't go home," Adrian remarked as he hauled in the small boat cautiously, "I mean we can go back by train, and leave the yawl----"

"Where?"

"Oh, anywhere."

This was not at all explicit, but Crow understood his meaning, which was that they were not bound to sail back to Bell Bay. They could make some port, and, putting the _Messenger_ in safety, return by rail.

"We'll see where we are when the clouds roll by," she answered; "it's not going on, Addie. I believe firmly that we shall have a perfect evening."

Adrian, divesting himself of his oilskins, and his boots--"in case the bally thing sank with him," as he explained, made no answer to his sister's expectations. But about ten minutes after, when he climbed over the counter, his work well done, he repeated that there was any amount of time, and it would be much better fun to go home some other way.

The storm had either dispersed or "gone to America", they thought. It had changed the whole aspect of the scene into a desolate waste of tossing grey sea and driving grey cloud, but there was no more lightning, very little rain, and a mere mutter of far-away thunder.

The voyagers found it was just on three o'clock, and Adrian suggested they should steer by compass. He wanted to know where it was.

"Mollie put it somewhere," answered Crow, with cheerful vagueness most unbecoming in a skipper.

So Adrian unlocked the door of the main cabin, and slid it open.

"Wonderful how whiffy any boat gets when you shut her down, even for half an hour, with everything close," he remarked, putting his head within and sniffing critically, "commend me to an oil-stove on a small yacht for an A1 stench."

Christobel sat still outside, waiting. Her mind was much easier. She realized that all conditions were quieter. She could certainly see farther. Adrian called out from below that he couldn't find the compass, so she also dived into the saloon, and hunted exhaustively. No compass. They decided that Mollie or Penberthy had taken it ashore.

To let in more light upon the search Adrian unfastened the forehatch, and then lighted the stove, because there was a "wonderful unanimity"--as somebody said, on the question of early tea, Adrian declaring he was full of salt, and Christobel that such a lot had happened since lunch.

All things then being in train for refreshment and start, the skipper hastened upstairs again, and the first thing she saw was that the dinghy had slipped her tow and gone off.

She called to Adrian, who appearing with swiftness took a comprehensive look at the shifting grey waste around.

"She can't be far off," declared Crow hopefully.

Her brother pointed to a dark blot that was heaved up by a wave, only to disappear behind another foam-tipped hill.

"Little beast," he said shortly.

"Never mind," Christobel urged cheerfully--she detected a fallen expression on his face, "never mind, Addie, it's nobody's fault. We'll soon pick her up."

As they hauled the jib over and let out the mainsheet, she added:

"_What_ a blessing it didn't happen when the rain was pouring, and she was full of water! She'd have sunk to a certainty."

Adrian allowed these cheering remarks to pass unnoticed.

"I thought I made her fast," he said. Such mishaps rankle.

In spite of all their efforts that dinghy evaded capture for twenty minutes at least, if not more. If anybody thinks this improbable let them try to capture a small light boat in such conditions. Many tacks seemed to succeed only in passing just out of reach; running down on the wind ended in a miss, because the pace was too swift for the careful use of the necessary boat-hook.

Adrian stood ready in the bows of the yawl, holding to the forestay, only to fail half a dozen times, once narrowly escaping a dive. After that he pursued operations from the counter, making Crow very nervous.

"Hold on, child, for mercy's sake," she urged, "do consider wretched me if you go overboard!"

Adrian was just in the heat of proving that it would be actually to her advantage if he fell overboard--couldn't he reach the dinghy more easily--when Christobel, partly by sheer luck, brought the yawl up into the wind on the very spot, so cleverly that she seemed to stop side by side with the runaway. A swoop of the boat-hook, a moment's tension, and Adrian had grasped the trailing tow-rope.

Christobel blew a very loud sigh of relief, she had been very intent on the capture. Immediately on that came an exclamation of surprise, and Adrian rose from his knees to see what new excitement was coming their way.

*CHAPTER VI*

*"I wouldn't have believed it of Pam!"*

The heavy atmosphere of spray, rain, and driven cloud that had enveloped the yacht up till now was passing bodily over to seaward. From beneath the curtain of it towards the north appeared--in brilliant sunshine--a wonderful line of coast showing up in rain-swept clearness. Above it the sky was blue; the purple and emerald hills glowed in the setting.

"Oh, Addie, what a dream of beauty! We shall be in it directly--just look how all the murky stuff is drifting away over the sea! I say, though, aren't we a long way out--miles and miles!"

Adrian dived below to search for the glass, which fortunately had not gone ashore with the compass. Christobel with narrowed eyes, tried to distinguish landmarks. The sunlight over the coast was growing stronger every moment.

After bringing the glass to bear on the scene Adrian gave a joyful chuckle.

"Who'd have thought it, Crow," he cried, pointing rapidly from place to place as he named them. "See--there you are! The Beak miles behind us. There's the Bell Ridge, ever such a way back. There's the lighthouse--white as a big tooth. There's the high Down up above Ramsworthy--with the glass you can see the rows of new houses above Netheroot sands! Do you see where we are, old girl? Almost level with Salterne Harbour! Here's the Heggadon bluff exactly opposite, and, of course, just round the corner of that you get the entrance to the estuary. It is simply the neatest thing in life. Why, I pictured that we were somewhere between Peterock and Bell Bay, with all the hard work to do coming back against this northerly breeze--and here we are only a mile or two from the harbour with a fair wind, and please note tide in our favour still. Now look here--we chuck Peterock, of course, and make for Salterne while we have tea--go right up to the bridge and pick up some spare moorings. Put a decent chap in charge of the yawl. Get my hair cut, and go back by train. How's that?"

"And wire to Mum as soon as we get into the town," added Christobel behind the glasses.

"Oh, that's of course," said Adrian, who was restless with excitement, "come on then, let's have tea--any amount of tea, I'm as hollow as a drum. Give me the tiller, you've been at it for an age. The stove's all ready--by the way, I told Mother Jeep to give us about a dozen hard-boiled eggs, I knew I could eat six! I say, Crow, isn't it the very limit to come out down here? Who'd have imagined such dazzling luck. When you come to think of it, losing the dinghy was about the best thing that ever happened to us----"

And so on ... Adrian glowing with optimism which was his normal condition--when not in the depths of despondency.

Christobel was supremely happy too. The sun shone. Addie was very content, and Mrs. Romilly would receive a wire. She made tea, and sang under her breath.

It was nearly five o'clock when they crossed the humming bar, between the lovely slopes of Peverell and Tamerton. The wind dropped suddenly, because the huge bluff called the Heggadon formed a complete screen, but the tide still acted a friendly part, for, though it was turning outside, the change was not completed inside, as harbours and all inlets of the sea are half an hour to an hour later than the main tide outside.

The _Messenger_ swept in smoothly on the top of the flood, under the most perfect conditions possible. The beautiful estuary looked like an inland sea, with here and there the long back of a sandbank showing above the ripple.

"We'll do it again, Crow, won't we?" said Adrian, beaming satisfaction, "why, it's nothing."

"No," allowed the skipper, eyeing the wet sails thoughtfully.

"Look at the time, my good girl--look! Five o'clock. And when did we leave Bell Bay?"

Christobel thought it was about 11.30.

"So it was--well, what's that? Five hours and a half--and not plain sailing, mind you, either--but a rattling thunderstorm, and a lost dinghy! I call it great!"

Crow admitted that it was great.

"But I'm afraid we shan't get home till rather late," she added.

Adrian briefly reviewed the train time-table, which was decidedly limited in that part of the world.

"We shall want something extra to eat in the town," he said, "but mind you, one can do an awful lot in the eating line in ten minutes. I know, because I've tested. Let's say 6.20, Crow, and get to Five Trees at about 6.45----"

"Addie, we _can't_," broke in Christobel, dismayed, "we are simply bound to miss that train. We are going awfully well, but it ought to take nearly an hour to reach the bridge, and then there's all the work of stowing, and finding a man--and your hair--and the wire--Oh, we can't do it!"

"Well, there's only one other train, the last one, what's that--leaves Salterne about five minutes to nine. Beastly few trains! Well, what do you say?"

Christobel considered with a disturbed expression of face.

"Well," went on Adrian, who quite refused to see any drawback to the joy of the situation, "well, look here, Crow. We'll _try_ for the 6.20, and if we miss it we'll go by the nine o'clock."

There was no doubt at all about the missing. The wind lessened to a mere breath, and the tide was beginning to turn against them during their sail up the last long reach. They got to the bridge in a state of "sleepiness", as the skipper called it--so much so that they had to submit to receive assistance from a person of the "long-shore" kind, who had fastened a speculative eye upon them the moment they appeared at the turn by the big shipyard. He came to meet them, in a clinker-built boat, rowing weightily--he was very like the men in W. W. Jacobs' stories. Adrian accepted a tow and the offer of "a little pair o-moorings where the old _Fair Hope_ lays when she's in harbour".

Adrian accepted, assuring Christobel over his shoulder that it was the only thing to do, and far the quickest.

The mariner went slow, slower; "slow as the wheels of evolution", as a certain story says. He hailed kindred spirits on the quay, and the small matter of picking up a moorings buoy was turned into a positive function--and would have to be paid for as such, of course!

Christobel groaned aloud, then laughed. It was no use worrying.

Adrian, whistling between disparaging remarks on the manners and customs of long-shore persons, took it easily.

"Lots of time before nine o'clock, Crow," he said.

They went into the town about the time the 6.20 p.m. arrived at Salterne, and sent off their wire. After that the skipper resigned herself to calm enjoyment. The afternoon, since the storm dispersed, had been so beautiful that Mrs. Romilly could hardly have worried so far, and the telegram would secure the rest.

Adrian had his hair cut. The necessary feeding was not a matter of ten minutes, but a most delightful meal; finally Crow rejected a suggestion of "The Pictures for about half an hour or so"--nothing would induce her to risk missing that train--and they sat in the station in the warm darkness. It was very quiet, and sparely lighted. She was happy enough, but Adrian was rather regretful about going at all.

"I see what we ought to have done," he said, "wired to Mum that we were sleeping on board in the harbour. What an awful pity. I suppose we couldn't do it now, Crow?"

"Can't send a wire now," answered Christobel.

"Pity. That walk from Five Trees to Bell Bay is rather a grind. If we stayed on the yawl we could sail home to-morrow morning."

"We can't stay on the yawl--Mother would be in fits, when we've wired we are coming by this train. Addie, don't have a fleeting mind. Let's talk about something else."

But the train came in from Riversgate--they could see it winding along out of the far hills to the south of the harbour and crossing the bridge like a mechanical toy--they got in, and went over to the end of the carriage from which the wide estuary was visible under the young moon. Such a wonderful sight, with sandhills exposed and a hundred different channels sending tides out to sea.

"I wouldn't live inland if you paid me to," said Adrian firmly.

"'And so say all of us'," quoted Crow in an ardent whisper.

Then they were silent--looking out.

Twenty to twenty-five minutes after that, they drew into the little moorland station, high, fresh, and lonely, under the moon. There were still clouds about, which made the shadows more eerie. It was all beautiful and mysterious as only the far west country can be. The brother and sister heartily agreed that the whole day had been well worth living.

"I'm not sure this isn't best of all," said Crow.

Adrian was planning arrangements for fetching the yawl, and they covered the long stretch of white road in quick time; no walking is so delightful as that in moonlight, with all the world to oneself. Owls hooted from the trees, and in a distant copse a nightingale suddenly began his song--more perfect for the space and loneliness.

The Romilly pair became silent. Conversation seemed almost irreverent.

They were approaching the Folly Ho turn. Suddenly into the quiet broke a monotonous light sound--the tapping of feet on hard ground; someone was running at an even pace.

"We're not the only people alive to-night," said Christobel in a low voice, "I thought we were."

"Coming from Peterock way," Adrian said, "we shall see who it is in a jiff; they are bound to come in front of us, unless they jump the hedge into the field. Sounds like a girl running."

"Why?" asked Christobel, "much more likely to be Peter Cherry, or someone like that. There are not many girls to run when one comes to calculate."

They were approaching the turn. The road before them was white and clear, the trees at the corner looking curiously distinct. With one accord both ceased to speak, and gave all attention to the light regular sound that drew nearer.

Pat, pat, pat--fell the running feet, and from the side-road appeared a figure. In a moment it was speeding down hill in front of the interested pair.

"_Addie!_" gasped Christobel, with startled emphasis.

"My only aunt!" ejaculated Adrian, "who'd have thought it."

"You see who it is?"

"Rather!"

"But, Addie, what's she doing coming from Folly Ho, this time of night?"

"Why ask me?" said her brother with reason.

"Mother thinks she's in bed, of course," went on Christobel in a troubled voice; "I'm sure it can be explained, but it is horrid. It's utter bad form. I wouldn't have believed it of Pam."

Adrian maintained a gloomy silence. Brothers never approve of unconventional explosions on the part of sisters; especially very pretty sisters of Pamela's age. It is taken as a matter of course that they are not old enough for independent action.

With one accord the two elders increased their pace to a fast walk, then to a trot.

"We shall see her directly," said Crow, "she wasn't going so very fast, and the road past Woodrising is perfectly straight for some way."

They reached the corner. Ahead of them, some way down the hill, was a running figure.

Adrian put his fingers to his mouth and made a long, harsh whistle like a steam escape.

For a moment they saw a face, as the girl checked and glanced round. But she did not stop, she ran on again, evidently faster.

"Jolly well ashamed of herself," said Adrian, rigidly disapproving. "She can't escape, Crow. She'll be ahead of us--in sight--all the way home."

It is a proverb never "to boast", that is to say, never to reckon on a hope as a fact--lest something unexpected spoils the hope. In this case the moon failed the pursuers. They had been so intent on Pamela that neither of them noticed a big patch of cloud sailing swiftly up from the north. In a moment the moon was shut off, and in a minute the darkness was pretty complete, for the cloud was a heavy one.

"Oh--dash it!" exclaimed Adrian irritably, "just when we were sure."

"Never mind, we can run just the same. We shall get used to the dark, and anyway, Addie, _she_ can't run fast any more than we can. One can't help taking care, when one can't see."

"Hedges are getting clearer," suggested Adrian, "funny how quickly one gets used to things. This Woodrising wall is plain as the lighthouse."