In Greek Waters Part 5

"No, no," the sailor laughed; "I have been too long aboard big craft to go a captaining. I don't so much mind being called a skipper, cos a master of any sort of craft may be called skipper; but I ain't going to be called captain. Now, d.i.c.k, run that flag up to the mast-head.

That is yachting fas.h.i.+on, you know, Master Horace, to run the burgee up when the owner comes on board. We ain't got a burgee, seeing as we don't belong to a yacht-club; but the flag with the name does service for it at present."

"But I am not the owner, Tom, that is nonsense. My father got it to please me, and very good of him it was; but it is nonsense to call the boat mine."

"Them's the orders I got from your Greek chap down below, Mr. Horace.

Says he, 'Master says as how Mr. Horace is to be regarded as owner of this 'ere craft whenever he is aboard;' so there you are, you see.

There ain't nothing to be said against that."

"Well, it is very jolly, isn't it, Tom?"

"It suits me first-rate, sir. I feel for all the world as if we had just captured a little prize, and they had put a young mids.h.i.+pmite in command and sent me along with him just to keep him straight; that is how I feel about it."

"What sort of weather do you think we are going to have to-day, Tom?"

"I think the wind is going to s.h.i.+ft, sir, and perhaps there will be more of it. It has gone round four points to the east since I turned out before sunrise."

"And where do you think we had better go to-day, Tom?"

"Well, as the wind is now it would be first-rate for a run to Dartmouth."

"Yes, but we should have a dead-beat back, Tom; we should never get back before dark."

"No sir, but that Greek chap tells me as your father said as how there were no occasion to be back to-night, if so be as you liked to make a cruise of it."

"Did he say that? That is capital. Then let us go to Dartmouth; to-morrow we can start as early as we like so as to get back here."

"I don't reckon we shall have to beat back. According to my notion the wind will be somewhere round to the south by to-morrow morning; that will suit us nicely. Now then, sir, we will see about getting sail on her."

As soon as they began to throw the sail-covers off, Marco came on deck and lent a hand, and in the course of three minutes the sails were up, the mooring slipped, and the _Surf_ was gliding past the end of the jetty.

"That was done in pretty good style, sir," Tom Burdett said as he took up his station by the side of Horace, who was at the tiller. "I reckon when we have had a week's practice together we shall get up sail as smartly as a man-of-war captain would want to see. I do like to see things done smart if it is only on a little craft like this, and with three of us we ought to get all her lower sail on her in no time. That Greek chap knows what he is about. Of course he has often been out with you in the fis.h.i.+ng-boats, but there has never been any call for him to lend a hand there, and I was quite surprised just now when he turned to at it. I only reckoned on d.i.c.k and myself, and put the Greek down as steward and cook."

"He used to work in a fis.h.i.+ng-boat when he was a boy, Tom."

"Ah, that accounts for it! They are smart sailors, some of them Greeks, in their own craft, though I never reckoned they were any good in a square-rigged s.h.i.+p; but in those feluccas of theirs they ain't easy to be beaten in anything like fine weather. But they ain't dependable, none of those Mediterranean chaps are, whether they are Greeks or Italians or Spaniards, when it comes on to blow really hard, and there is land under your lee, and no port to run to. When it comes to a squeak like that they lose their nerve and begin to pray to the saints, and wring their hands, and jabber like a lot of children. They don't seem to have no sort of backbone about them. But in fine weather I allow they handle their craft as well as they could be handled. Mind your helm, sir; you must always keep your attention to that, no matter what is being said."

"Are you going to get up the topsail, Tom?"

"Not at present, sir; with this wind there will be more sea on as we get further out, and I don't know the craft yet; I want to see what her ways are afore we try her. She looks to me as if she would be stiff under canvas; but running as we are we can't judge much about that, and you have always got to be careful with these light-draft craft. When we get to know her we shall be able to calculate what she will carry in all weathers; but there is no hurry about that. I have seen spars carried away afore now, from young commanders cracking on sail on craft they knew nothing about. This boat can run, there is no mistake about that. Look at that fis.h.i.+ng-boat ahead of us; that is Jasper Hill's _Kitty_; she went out ten minutes afore you came down.

We are overhauling her hand over hand, and she is reckoned one of the fastest craft in Seaport. But then, this craft is bound to run fast with her fine lines and shallow draft; we must wait to see how she will do when there is lots of wind."

In a couple of hours Horace was glad to hand over the tiller to the skipper as the sea had got up a good deal, and the _Surf_ yawed so much before the following waves that it needed more skill than he possessed to keep her straight.

"Fetch the compa.s.s up, d.i.c.k," the skipper said; "we are dropping the land fast. Now get the mizzen off her, she will steer easier without it, and it isn't doing her much good. Do you begin to feel queer at all, Mr. Horace?"

"Not a bit," the boy laughed. "Why, you don't suppose, after rolling about in those fis.h.i.+ng-boats when they are hanging to their nets, that one would feel this easy motion."

"No; you would think not, but it don't always follow. I have seen a man, who had been accustomed to knock about all his life in small craft, as sick as a dog on board a frigate, and I have seen the first lieutenant of a man-of-war knocked right over while lying off a bar on boat service. One gets accustomed to one sort of motion, and when you get another quite different it seems to take your innards all aback."

The run to Dartmouth was quickly made, and to Horace's delight they pa.s.sed several large s.h.i.+ps on their way.

"Yes, she is going well," Tom Burdett said when he expressed his satisfaction; "but if the wind was to get up a bit more it would be just the other way. We have got quite as much as we want, while they could stand a good bit more. A small craft will generally hold her own in a light wind, because why, she carries more sail in proportion to her tonnage. When the big s.h.i.+p has got as much as she can do with, the little one has to reef down and half her sails are taken off her.

Another thing is, the waves knock the way out of a small craft, while the weight of a big one takes her through them without feeling it.

Still I don't say the boat ain't doing well, for she is first-rate, and we shall make a very quick pa.s.sage to port."

Running up the pretty river, they rounded to, head to wind, dropped the anchor a short distance from a s.h.i.+p of war, and lowered and stowed their sails smartly. Then Horace went below to dinner. It had been ready for some little time, but he had not liked leaving the deck, for rolling, as she sometimes did, it would have been impossible to eat comfortably. As soon as he dined, the others took their meal in the fo'castle, Marco having insisted on waiting on him while at his dinner. When they had finished, Marco and d.i.c.k rowed Horace ash.o.r.e.

The lad took the boat back to the yacht, while the other two strolled about the town for a couple of hours, and then went off again.

The next day the _Surf_ fully satisfied her skipper as to her weatherly qualities. The wind was, as he had predicted, nearly south-east, and there was a good deal of sea on. Before getting up anchor, the topmast was lowered, two reefs put in the main-sail and one in the mizzen, and a small jib subst.i.tuted for that carried on the previous day. Showers of spray fell on the deck as they put out from the mouth of the river; but once fairly away she took the waves easily, and though sometimes a few buckets of water tumbled over her bows and swashed along the lee channels, nothing like a green sea came on board. Tom Burdett was delighted with her.

"She is a beauty and no mistake," he said enthusiastically. "There is many a big s.h.i.+p will be making bad weather of it to-day; she goes over it like a duck. After this, Mr. Horace, I sha'n't mind what weather I am out in her. I would not have believed a craft her size would have behaved so well in a tumble like this. You see this is more trying for her than a big sea would be. She would take it easier if the waves were longer, and she had more time to take them one after the other.

That is why you hear of boats living in a sea that has beaten the life out of a s.h.i.+p. A long craft does not feel a short choppy sea that a small one would be putting her head into every wave: but in a long sea the little one has the advantage. What do you think of her, sir?"

"She seems to me to heel over a long way, Tom."

"Yes, she is well over; but you see, even in the puffs she doesn't go any further. Every vessel has got what you may call her bearing. It mayn't take much to get her over to that; but when she is there it takes a wonderful lot to bring her any further. You see there is a lot of sail we could take off her yet, if the wind were to freshen. We could get in another reef in the main-sail, and stow her mizzen and foresail altogether. She would stand pretty nigh a hurricane with that canvas."

It was four o'clock in the afternoon before the _Surf_ entered the harbour. Horace was drenched with spray, and felt almost worn out after the struggle with the wind and waves; when he landed his knees were strangely weak, but he felt an immense satisfaction with the trip, and believed implicitly Tom Burdett's a.s.sertion that the yacht could stand any weather.

CHAPTER III

THE WRECK

Those were glorious holidays for Horace Beveridge. He was seldom at home; sometimes two of his cousins, the Hendons, accompanied him in his trips, and they were away for three or four days at a time. Three times Mr. Beveridge with Zaimes went out for a day's sail, and Horace was pleased to see that his father really enjoyed it, talking but little, but sitting among some cus.h.i.+ons Zaimes arranged for him astern, and basking in the bright sun and fresh air. That he did enjoy it was evident from the fact that, instead of having the yacht laid up at the end of the holidays, Mr. Beveridge decided to keep her afloat, and retained Tom Burdett's services permanently.

"Do you think, Tom, we shall get any sailing in the winter holidays?"

"We are sure to, sir, if your father has not laid her up by that time.

There are plenty of days on this coast when the sailing is as pleasant in winter as it is in summer. The harbour is a safe one though it is so small, and I don't see any reason why she shouldn't be kept afloat.

Of course we shall have to put a stove in the cabin to make it snug; but with that, a good thick pea-jacket, warm gloves, and high boots, you would be as right as a nail."

And so at Christmas and through the next summer holidays Horace enjoyed almost constant sailing. He was now thoroughly at home in the boat, could steer without the supervision of the skipper, and was as handy with the ropes as d.i.c.k himself.

"This is the best job I ever fell into, Mr. Horace," Tom Burdett said at the end of the second summer. "Your father pays liberal; and as for grub, when that Greek is on board a post-captain could not want better. It is wonderful how that chap does cook, and he seems downright to like it. Then you see I have got a first-rate crew. d.i.c.k is as good as a man now; I will say for the Greek, he is a good sailor as well as a good cook; and then you see you have got a deal bigger and stronger than you were a year ago, and are just as handy either at the tiller or the sheets as a man would be, so we are regular strong-handed, and that makes a wonderful difference in the comfort on a craft."

That summer they sailed up to Portsmouth, and cruised for a week inside the Isle of Wight, and as Horace had one of his school-fellows spending the holidays with him, he enjoyed himself to the fullest of his capacity. During the holidays Horace did not see much of his father, who, quite content that the boy was enjoying himself, and gaining health and strength, went on in his own way, and only once went out with him during his stay at home, although, as Marco told him, he generally went out once a week at other times.

The first morning after his return, at the following Christmas, Horace did not as usual get up as soon as it was light. The rattle of the window and the howl of the wind outside sufficed to tell him that there would be no sailing that day. Being in no hurry to move, he sat over breakfast longer than usual, talking to Zaimes of what had happened at home and in the village since he last went away. His father was absent, having gone up to town a week before, and Horace had, on his arrival, found a letter from him, saying that he was sorry not to be there for his return, but that he found he could not get through the work on which he was engaged for another two days; he should, however, be down at any rate by Christmas-eve.

After breakfast Horace went out and looked over the sea. The wind was almost dead on sh.o.r.e, blowing in such violent gusts that he could scarce keep his feet. The sky was a dull lead colour, the low clouds hurrying past overhead. The sea was covered with white breakers, and the roar of the surf, as it broke on the sh.o.r.e, could be heard even above the noise of the wind. Putting on his pea-jacket and high boots, he went down to the port. As it had been specially constructed as a shelter against south-westerly winds, with the western pier overlapping the other, the sea did not make a direct sweep into it; but the craft inside were all rolling heavily in the swell.

"How are you, Tom? It is a wild day, isn't it?"

"Don't want to see a worse, sir. Glad to see you back again, Mr.

Horace. Quite well, I hope?"