Unless the outboard engine could be set in motion the drag of the worse than useless propeller would seriously impede the boat's way. Nor was the rudder—a part of the contrivance—of much use unless the motor were running. To unship the contrivance would take up valuable time.
"I'll work it, sir!" exclaimed Bernard, and receiving an approving "Good lad!" from the Chief, he swarmed down the after falls into the boat.
One turn of the starting handle set the motor working.
"Lower away!" ordered the cadet. "Slip!"
The cutter, freed from the falls, gathered way. Putting the helm hard-a-port, Bernard turned her through sixteen points, and steadied her on her course. She was doing about five knots, the Golden Vanity and her tow three in an opposite direction.
"There they are, sir!" shouted the bowman. "A point on your port bow!"
That was not to be wondered at. Bernard had to avoid the Lorelei. As the cutter swept past a shot rang out from the yacht's stern.
"Wot's up wiv 'er?" inquired one of the cutter's crew. "Thinks she's firin' a salute, she is."
Then, tossed by the wind, came the nasal voice of Abraham Y. Sylvester.
"Look slick, you guys! There are sharks nosing around!"
Bernard could do no more. He was getting every ounce out of the motor. To order the men to "out oars" would do no good. The cutter was travelling faster than they could row.
Again and again as the boat rose on the crests of successive waves, Bernard caught a momentary glimpse of his chum and the man for whom he had risked his life. Nearer and nearer drew the rescuers, but how slowly the cutter seemed to take to cover a little over a quarter of a mile!
At length Bernard judged it time to switch off the ignition. An error in either direction might mean failure, for he could see that his chum was well-nigh exhausted. To carry too much way would probably result in the men in the ditch being torn from the grip of those who sought to save them. Too little, and the cutter would stop dead and short of her objective. More precious time would be lost in getting way on her and making a second attempt.
The bowman picked up his boathook. The cutter still carried way. Bernard, standing up in the stern-sheets, could no longer see his chum. The bows of the boat were in the line of vision. All he could do was to watch the gentle movements of the bowman's hand as he indicated the direction, then—
"Got 'em, sir!" yelled one of the crew, leaning over the gunwale.
"I'm all right!" spluttered Geoff. "Get him aboard first."
Kelso, still unconscious, was hauled over the side. Then his rescuer was pulled out of the water. Summoning his remaining energies Geoff threw both legs over the gunwale with astonishing alacrity. At this stage of the proceedings he had a decided objection to present his lower extremities as a meal for another shark! Then, safe at last, he flopped helplessly on the gratings by the side of the equally helpless Third.
CHAPTER XXVI. The Best of It
Twenty hours later the Golden Vanity picked up her pilot off Nassau.
The pilot, a cheerful-looking negro, grinned when he gained the deck.
"Specks, Massa, you hab trubble," he remarked.
"We have," agreed Captain Corbold, "and don't make it worse by putting us aground."
"What you draw?" inquired the pilot.
Told that the ship was then drawing eighteen feet aft he looked as grave as he was ever known to be. There was until recently only fifteen feet on the bar, but this had been increased to eighteen. Allowing for a rise of tide of four feet there was very little margin for safety.
"'Specks you'se better hab a tug," suggested the pilot.
The wind was fair and light. The Old Man shook his head.
"We've done without one since we cleared Rio, and I'm dashed if I'll have one now," he declared. "Carry on, Snowball! Hands, there! Stand by to shorten sail!"
The bar was crossed and for the first time since leaving home the anchor was let go. A tug, scenting business, ran alongside the Lorelei and bore her off to the patent slipway to undergo extensive repairs.
A little later Captain Corbold, accompanied by the American journalist Fearon, went ashore to arrange for the supply and fitting of a new rudder. With the Old Man went Geoff and Bernard, the former being little the worse for his adventure in the ditch.
"You could not have arrived at a worse time," declared the harbour-master indicating with a comprehensive sweep of his arm the tremendous damage done by the hurricane. Houses had been levelled, trees uprooted, several of the well-known Bahama schooners had been wrecked, and the cotton fields and fruit plantations devastated. "Yes, there was a cargo for you, I understand, but the store and its contents are strewn all across the island. Still, repairs to your ship will take some time and by then there might be something in the nature of a cargo."
The hurricane had dealt cruelly with the island, for in addition to the actual damage, many wealthy people who were in the habit of wintering there were deterred from so doing. Consequently another important source of income was stopped. Yet the negroes who formed the bulk of the population did not seem at all perturbed by disaster. Only a week had elapsed since the furious storm had swept Nassau; and the "coloured ladies and gentlemen" were going about with broad smiles as if life were well worth living.
That same day Abraham Y. Sylvester and party took steamer for the States. Before going the American was as good as his word, paying Captain Corbold the sum agreed upon.
"And just you watch the Noo York Mail," he added on parting. "You want a boost badly, Captain, and I guess it won't be Fearon's fault if you don't get it!"
Next morning a ship-surveyor came off to inspect the damage done to the vessel. Fitting a new rudder, it was explained, would take at least three weeks, since the rudder itself had to be made and then set in position by divers. Owing to lack of docking facilities and also to the slight range of tide—barely four feet at springs—it was out of the question to deal with the work except as an under-water job.
Then came the examination of the damage done by the fire. This was extensive, for several of the timbers had been badly charred and the planking below the water-line considerably burnt. The deck-beams were so eaten away that it was rather a wonder that the deck had not collapsed. Nor were the Old Man's fears concerning the mizzenmast ill-founded, for from the heel to the place where it passed through the poop-deck, the fire had damaged it considerably.
"The timbers and planking will have to wait till you get home and go into dry dock," reported the official. "We'll give them a temporary casing of cement. As for that stick"—indicating the mizzenmast—"you're lucky you didn't have it carried over the side. I'll have it fished. If you don't carry too much sail or subject it to very great strains it ought to see you home. Yes, about three weeks. Everything should be ship-shape by then."
As a matter of fact it took twenty-seven working days to get the necessary repairs effected. Long before then, Geoff and more or less everyone on board was thoroughly "fed up" with things in general and Nassau Harbour in particular, which merely went to prove again the truth of the old saying that "men and ships rot in port". The cadets soon exhausted the possibilities of the place. Leave ashore quickly palled. Owing to the boats being in constant attendance upon the ship, they were unable to go away for sailing-picnics—one of the joys of harbour. Few of them had any money, for it was still some time from the end of the month and the Old Man wisely refrained from advancing any. Nor did he apportion the sum given by the owner of the Lorelei, experience teaching him the mutual advantage of leaving such transactions until the end of the voyage.