It was clear to Jim by the way they beamed at him that Dukey and Bert were very proud of the plan. He did not return the grin, nor did he understand the reference to "Perce's place", but he was forced to admit that it was an ingenious and elaborate way of getting the best out of their haul. These rough, dirty and nearly illiterate men were clearly a lot sharper than they looked and sounded.
Ten minutes later, the sails were hoisted, the lines let go, and they were drifting on the tide out of the lee of the wreck. As they came clear, the stout tanned sails caught the wind with two vicious snaps; Dukey raised his arm in farewell to the Essex salvagers as he tacked round Sardis's stern; then up came the tiller towards the wind, the bow swung round to point south-west, and away she roared before the solid north-easterly breeze. The close-reefed mainsail rose and fell as she rolled and ramped down-wind, and Jim saw the dead, shapeless remains of the proud Sardis dropping below the grey horizon. However, he spent little time in looking about, for as soon as they were clear of the wreck Bert shouted for'ard for him: "Here, Jimmy! Git a bucket o' water and clear up these dinner things."
Not long after, while he was attempting to clean the cold bacon grease from the tin plates with cold sea-water and a filthy dish-rag, Bert came into the cabin and sat down opposite. "Bit of a job, ain't it?" he said. "Never mind, you'll soon get the 'ang of it. I been thinking about you, Jim, and talking to Dukey. He says if you want to let your Mum and Dad know you're all right, he don't mind, so long as you don't tell 'em where you are. He don't want 'em mixed up in this."
The hard knot of bitterness and hatred inside Jim began to soften at this act of kindness. Yet still he found it hard to talk. "No need," he said. "I haven't got a father or mother alive."
Bert was genuinely shocked and embarrassed: "Oh, er, I see. I only thought... Well, I got a boy o' me own just started at sea, you see, and I know what I'd feel... Well, you see what I mean."
"I've only got a guardian — my uncle. He's a lawyer. He won't care much." Jim's memory was back in the elegant white-panelled office overlooking the main street of the little Cotswold town. He could see the wrinkles of distaste on the face of the spruce, smooth man at the desk, as he said with finality: "Very well, then, James. But I feel that it is only right to point out to you that if — against my expressed wishes — you persist in this lunatic desire to become a sailor you have nothing further to hope from me, either now or at my death. I trust I make myself perfectly clear?"
That was clear enough, thought Jim. Clear enough, too, that the sarcastic old devil never wanted to see him again anyway. Sooner go back to the Company office than to that stuck-up, superior old swine to be one of his poor relations again. Go back again to being introduced to everybody as "my poor sister Florence's boy who is making his home with us"? Never again, thought Jim, never again. He was utterly alone and adrift in a strange, hard, dangerous world, and he was burdened still with the lives he had thrown away. Well, then, I'll drift, he thought. We'lljust see what happens.
When he next went on deck, the low green line of the Kent coast lay across the bow about five miles off; it was almost pleasant to see the real land after that deadly barren hump of sand, and to feel the surge and roll of a live craft again. He got himself out of Dukey's sight up for'ard, and watched the uneven line of low clayey cliffs come nearer; a mile off-shore, Dukey altered course to run westwards, parallel with the shore, and Shiner came up to the bow too to keep a look-out for the Whitstable spratting boats.
An hour's run along the coast brought them to a desolate stretch, featureless except for two strange square towers of flint. Shiner pointed to them, and made one of his rare speeches: "Reculver Towers." A moment later, Dukey thrust the tiller down, and Bert hauled in the mainsheet hand-over-hand, and shouted to Shiner: "Haul your fores'l sheet a-weather!" Then, hove-to and pitching steadily into the rising sea, they settled down in the gathering dark to wait for the fishing-boats.
"There you are, Bert," said Dukey, after only ten minutes. "One coming straight for us. Show 'em the light. That's right, wave it about a bit."
"Well, then, Skipper," said Bert, as the smaller craft shot under their stern and went about with a thundering of canvas, "see you later." He slapped the breast-pocket of his thick sea-jacket, which bulged out prominently. "I got it all safe in here."
Four hours later the roar of the Maud's anchor in the hawsepipe broke the dark silence of Seasalter Flats, at the mouth of the East Swale. All the evening, Dukey had sailed the smack slowly up over the ebbing tide, showing no lights, and keeping well out from the long string of lights which shone from Tankerton and Whitstable. Now, with only the marshes to shorewards, he had edged in, with himself at the tiller. Shiner standing by the anchor, and Jim amidships with the lead-line. Right opposite them, the single light of a lonely farm showed over the sea-wall. "One-and-a-half fathoms!" Jim called quietly.
"Right," said Dukey, his voice far below its normal volume. "Pass the word to let go."
The rest of the night was a long-drawn nightmare that Jim was to remember all his life. The Maud had scarcely lost way before the Skipper had them hastily launching the small boat which was carried upside-down on deck. In a trice Dukey and Shiner were into it, and as they fitted their oars into the rowlocks, Dukey was rattling out orders to Jim: "Now then, you start getting the hatch-covers off and the main halyard ready for swaying up cargo. See the light of that house ? That's Peasmarsh Farm — Perce's place — the farm where we're going. Git the lamp alight below; bring it up here when we flash from the beach. Got it, mate ? Right-o, then, Shiner, give way together!" Both oars bent as the two powerful oarsmen lay into their work, and the light craft shot off in a flurry of foam.
Jim had scarcely cleared the hatchway when the flash came from the beach. A few moments later he heard the thud of straining oars and heard the roar of bow-waves. He could see the need for haste: the mud where their anchor lay would be exposed at low water. All that salvage had to be unloaded before the water slipped away again, for it would be extremely dangerous for a well-known salvage smack to be found high-and-dry in such a place.
Together with the Maud's dinghy, a larger beach-boat shot out of the dark and crashed alongside. The strange boat was heavily manned; half of her crew sprang up the smack's side and swarmed all over her, getting timber, paint, blocks, rope and farm tools ready for hoisting out. There must have been some furious midnight turning-out in the little cottages scattered along the sea-wall, for ten minutes later three more beach-boats arrived and unloading began in earnest; all the heavy slings of cargo that had been lowered in from above had to be heaved up by human muscle.
When at last the stem of the last boat was swallowed up by the darkness, Jim had been hauling as hard as he could on a rope for four hours, and was swaying with exhaustion. Dukey and Shiner seemed tireless, however, and without a moment's pause, the former grunted: "Right, lads! Up mains'l, up anchor. Then set your fores'l. We're off out to sea again."
Every nerve of Jim's body was crying out for rest and sleep, and he was appalled by the news, and mystified as well. He was relieved to find, some hours later, that it was only another part of the elaborate plan to make an innocent home-coming. Dukey tacked the Maud easily out to sea while they all chewed massive sandwiches of bread and bacon which Jim had prepared, and drank strong tea. Then, as dawn began to tinge the eastern sky, he put the tiller up and said: "Give her the main-sheet, Jim. That's it — right out. We want to be pointing the right way now it's getting light. We must be pretty nigh out to the Girdler now, so we got a nice run of about nine mile back to Whitstable. Just nice time to git in on the tide. Now, don't forget, you two 'erbs — we just come straight from the wreck. Bert left there two days ago on a Ramsgate trawler because he had a funny turn. Got it?"