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CHAPTER XIII.
A NOR'-EASTER AT SEA

When this north-east wind began to blow, the yacht Seabird lay well away to the southward and eastward of Silver Bay, the reckoning being that she was from the bay a hundred-and-thirty miles as a crow flies. The gale had not come on the schooner suddenly. The Duke, the Marquis, and the captain were standing together when the south-west wind on which they had been sailing, began to die, and finally shook out of the sails.

It was a beautiful moonless starlight night. When the wind fell, and the sails flapped idly against the masts, the Duke turned to Captain Drew and said:

"Well, captain, what do you think of it now?"

"I don't think much of it, your grace; I think we're going to have a stiff'ner. I don't like the look of it at all."

"Where do you expect it from now?"

"Not out of the south'ard and west'ard again. No such luck. It would not surprise me a bit if it went all the way round to north, or even the east'ard of north. The glass is falling, it's been un-naturally hot for days, and I think we'll have a change."

"So do I. I think the thermometer must have fallen also. Has it, captain?"

"Yes, your grace, it has dropped from sixty-seven to sixty, and it is going down still."

"I'm sure it isn't sixty now. I think you're right, Drew. I think it will be out of the north. I feel it in my shoulder. I feel the north-east is coming. What do you think, George?"

"I think so too. I am almost sure we shall have to put about before morning. It is growing colder and colder every moment."

For awhile there was silence on deck.

A tall raw-boned man with hollow cadaverous cheeks was at the wheel. He was a man of forty-five years of age, and one of the best seamen in the crew. It was the captain's watch, and the next man who spoke aloud was the man at the wheel. He cried out, in as low a voice as would reach the second mate:

"Mr. Mate!"

"Ay, ay!" answered the mate from the waist, as he turned and walked aft to Pritchard, the gaunt cadaverous man at the wheel.

There was a loud flapping of sails at this time. For awhile Pritchard and Starclay, the second mate, whispered. Starclay took the wheel for a moment, put it three spokes to starboard, put it three spokes to port, and then asked of Pritchard:

"When did you notice it?"

"Not until after the way went off her. I was playing with the wheel, and I felt something wrong."

"Ay, something wrong, no doubt. I don't know what. We must see to it at once. I think we're going to have a bit of a twister. Awkward to have anything wrong there if we get into heavy weather. The captain is talking to the Duke, and I don't like going to him just now. Mr. Yarmould is lying down. I'll ask him to turn up."

Yarmould was the first mate.

In a few minutes Yarmould, the first mate, came aft with the second mate, and taking the wheel in his hand, turned it three spokes to starboard, and then three spokes to port of "steady," shook his head, and then asked:

"How much was it free before from steady, Pritchard?"

"One spoke, sir, or maybe two. Did you notice, sir, that when you put it over three spokes and were putting it back six, between the second and third spoke you felt something?"

"Yes. It didn't come back smooth. I felt a check at about steady. That's queer, isn't it, Mr. Starclay?"

Mr. Yarmould was stout and low of stature.

"Yes, sir. I can't make it out. It goes over freely three spokes, and yet when it's coming back, it grates between two and three."

The chief mate spun the wheel backward and forward once more, and then looked up quickly. It was impossible to see the expression of his face; but evidently he had made up his mind as to what was wrong with the steering apparatus of the yacht Seabird.

He said:

"The carpenter is in your watch, Mr. Starclay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ask him to step aft."

When the carpenter had come, the first mate said:

"Mr. Carpenter, yesterday two spokes or three spokes of the wheel picked up the slack of the rudder-chain when the wheel was hard over in smooth water, now it takes six spokes to pick up the slack. Try the wheel and tell us what you think of it."

The carpenter caught the spokes and put them over, and put them back again.

"At halfway back I feel something," said the carpenter. "That is bad. It's not the chains, it's not the wheel, it's not the tackles-"

He paused awhile, and all the men looked gravely into one another's face, but no one spoke.

The boom, with the great mainsail, lay over at the starboard side of the schooner. The Duke, the Marquis, and the captain were standing by the starboard main shrouds. The two noblemen were leaning up against the bulwark, and the captain was standing five or six planks to windward, amid-ship from the bulwark, and in a line with a line drawn from a point about halfway between the mainmast and the companion. Thus he could not see anything of what was going on at the wheel, and the flapping of the sails prevented his hearing the words spoken further aft beyond the cry of "Mr. Mate!" to which he had attached no importance.

The lower portion of the bodies of the four men now at the wheel had been all along visible to the Marquis of Southwold. Such a gathering of the crew on the quarter-deck was, under the circumstances, exceedingly unusual, and it attracted the heir's attention. At last he spoke:

"I say, Captain Drew, what can all these men want aft in a calm at this time of night?"

The captain turned quickly round, stooped so as to be able to see under the boom, recognised by the bulk and stature of the four men who they were, and guessing something was wrong from the fact that the first mate, whose watch it was below, was on deck and in consultation with Pritchard at the wheel, the second mate, and the carpenter, said: "I'll go see, my lord," and dived under the boom and disappeared, all but the lower part of his body.

"What is it, Mr. Mate?" asked the captain.

"Well, sir, it looks bad enough."

"The weather? I know it does. We're going to have it, and I think, Mr. Mate, a good deal too, of it, out of the north. But we are able for all we can get. Eh?" The final interrogative was spoken, evidently not with a view to an answer to the question it put, but with the intention of encouraging the mate to speak out and explain why a council should be held on the quarter-deck without him, at such an hour, and in a calm.

There was a perceptible pause.

"We think," said Yarmould, in a whisper, "that there's going to be a gale-"

"Well," cried the captain impatiently, "we're not feathers or chaff that we need be afraid of our being blown away, my sons." He spoke with the impatient irritation of a man who knew he was being fenced with, and knew the men who were fencing with him would not be so unstraight, only that they wished to break to him some unpleasant fact.

"What is it?" the captain asked, seeing them all hesitate.

"We think, sir, there is something wrong with the steering-gear."

"With the steering-gear! With what part of the steering-gear? The chain?"

"No."

"The tackles?"

"No."

"The wheel?"

"No."

"The helm?"

"No, sir."

"Then, in the devil's name, what is it?"

"We think the cap-irons of the rudder have worked loose."

"What!"

For a few seconds no one spoke.

"Are you sure?" asked the captain.

"Take the wheel, sir, and see what you think of it."

The captain spun the wheel first one way and then another. He thrust his cap back off his forehead, thrust his hands into his trousers-pockets, and remained motionless for a few moments.

Over the rudder-head was an ornamental seat.

"Carpenter," said the captain, "bring your tools and a lantern. Knock away this seat, and let us see how things are."

As the captain gave these orders the sails ceased to flap. Slowly the boom went over to what had a little while before been the weather-side; the sails filled, and the schooner began to forge slowly ahead.

"Drew!" cried the Duke.

"Yes, your grace."

"Put her about and run for the bay. Good-night."

"Ay, ay, your grace. Good-night."

"Anything wrong. Drew?" called out the Marquis.

"I hope not, your lordship. We are going to try; and when we know I will run below and tell you."

"All right. Good-night, Drew; good-night, men."

"Good-night, your lordship."

The carpenter brought the tools and a lantern. In a few minutes he had knocked away the ornamental seat, and revealed the rudder-cap.

There, unmistakeably, was the explanation of the irregularity which Pritchard had noticed. The rudder-head was rotten; and the cap-irons of the rudder had worked loose upon the wood, so that the helm, to which the cap-irons were fixed, played a little free to starboard and port before it gripped the rudder-head.

"What do you think, carpenter?" asked the captain, when the four men had recovered their upright position, after bending low to examine the rudder-head by the light of the lantern.

The carpenter shook his head gravely.

"It doesn't look wholesome, does it, captain? You're going to put the ship about, sir?"

"Yes."

"All right, sir. Put her about, and then we'll see what we can do."

The sails were now full with the north-east breeze, which was yet light. The yacht was put about. Her head was set for Silver Bay, and she lay over slightly, steered half a point to the northward of north-west, on the wind with the wind abeam.

When the yacht was tidy once more, the four men came aft to where the man stood at the wheel.

"What do you propose to do, carpenter?" asked the master.

"Well, sir, you see there's no time to be lost. It was a bad bit of timber to start with, and now it's dozed. It's the first rudder she ever had?"

"It is the first rudder she ever had."

"And it's five years since she has been on the hard or in a dry dock?"

"Five years since she got a good overhauling."

"It is my opinion, sir, that anyone would pass that rudder by sight until it began to give, which can't be longer ago than a few days."

"What do you propose doing?"

"Well, sir, I'd say the best thing would be to wedge it taut inside the cap-iron. What do you think, sir?"

"You couldn't fish it?"

"No, sir, in no way; there's no room."

"I think you're right, Mr. Carpenter. There is no other way but to wedge it. Do you think it will hold?"

"Yes, sir, I think it will. We'll lash it in with half-inch as far as we can below the iron, and then we'll wedge it inside the iron. That'll hold it," said the carpenter confidently.

"Ay," said the captain; "I don't think you can do anything better."

The carpenter set to work at once. The man at the helm kept the wheel steady, and coil after coil was slowly wound round the rotten rudder-head. The carpenter wound the rope round and round as far down as the space between the rudder-head and the rudder-case would allow. Then he improved on his original plan, and wound the line over the coil already formed, thus doubling the thickness of the serving. When this had been done, the carpenter brought some pieces of oak, and cut them into long wedges. These he drove down with a caulker's maul inside the cap-iron all round the rudder-head.

While the carpenter was lashing the rudder-head and driving in the wedges, the captain and first mate were walking up and down the quarter-deck together. As the carpenter had driven in wedge after wedge, he had noticed with satisfaction that each succeeding one required more driving. Hence it was obvious the wedges were telling. It was also plainly revealed, by the light of the lantern, that the play of the rudder-head within the irons of the rudder-cap had been reduced to almost nothing. This was exceedingly satisfactory. Now and then the captain had stopped in his walk to see how the carpenter progressed.

When the carpenter had driven in ten wedges he paused a moment, asked the captain to look, and said:

"What do you think of it now, captain?"

"What do you say, Mr. Carpenter?"

"Well, sir, I think 'twill hold now. See." He caught the rudder and shook it forcibly.

"It works a little yet."

"It does, sir. Do you think, sir, I might put in another wedge or two?"

"You see, Mr. Carpenter, it works a little free now; we're going to have a gale; if it works a little now, it will work a great deal more by-and-by, and I don't like the notion of that iron working freer and freer with a lee-shore under my bow. I don't like that notion at all. Do you think you could make it taut with a couple more wedges?"

"Yes, captain; I think I could, if-"

"If what?"

"If the iron will hold."

"Ah!" said the captain, and the three men looked down gravely at the face of the carpenter, who was kneeling on the deck, and whose tar-stained caulker's maul was partly illumined by the light of the lantern. The lantern was tilted up by a spike-nail so that most of the light was thrown on the rudder-cap and down the rudder-case.

"And what do you think of the iron, Mr. Carpenter?"

The man did not reply immediately. He took up a hammer and struck the iron sharply with it. The paint cracked and fell down the rudder-case into the black invisible water below. When most of the yellow paint had fallen off, the rusty wasted metal became visible.

"It looks all right, captain," said the carpenter, raising his head.

"Well, knock in two more wedges. I don't like the notion of that thing working loose while we are in a gale with a lee-shore under our bow. I promised the Duke I'd tell him about this as soon as it had been put straight. I suppose I may count it straight now, Mr. Carpenter?"

"Yes, sir; I think you may. With the lashing and the wedges I don't expect anything will stir, and I have no fear of the iron."

The captain walked forward and disappeared down the companion.

CHAPTER XIV.
TWO DISCOVERIES

The captain knocked at the cabin-door, and, having received permission, entered.

"Well, Drew, what is the matter?" asked the Duke, from a couch.

"The rudder-head is dozed, your grace."

"Dozed, Drew! and you found that out only now?"

There was a tone of alarm and reproach in the old man's voice.

"You see, your grace, it is some time since she was overhauled."

"Yes; but the rudder-head. Drew, the rudder-head! That is not a thing to trifle with."

"Your grace will remember I could not get at it, owing to the seat."

"Well, talking won't undo the evil now. What do you propose doing?"

"We've cured it so far, your grace. We've served the rudder-head with the half-inch, and driven wedges inside the iron all round."

"And you think it is safe now?"

"Quite safe for the run."

"And you do not think it necessary or advisable to put in anywhere?"

"That's what I came to speak to your grace about."

"There's Izlemouth, a couple of hours nearer than Silver Bay. How is the wind for Izlemouth?"

"Fair, your grace. We'd carry it over the quarter."

"And how is it for home?"

"Abeam."

"She'd make a couple of knots more an hour with the wind on the quarter."

"Yes, your grace, and less leeway."

"I am half inclined to run in there. And yet, if you are satisfied that the rudder-head will hold until we can reach Silver Bay, I'd much rather go home."

"The rudder-head will hold, your grace. I'll answer for that. Would your grace like to come and see it?"

"No, no. Drew. I'll take your word for it. You know all about it. It's a wonder you never thought of running a knife into that rudder."

"Well, your grace, as I said, it wasn't easy to get at. You see, there was the seat."

"Ay, ay! So there was-so there was, Drew! I forgot that-I forgot that. You are not to blame. We must lay the Seabird up when we get in. We can hire or buy another yacht while this one is under repairs. What do you think we ought to do, Drew, sell her or repair her? What do you think?"

"You have had her a good many years now, your grace."

"Yes, yes. You think I ought to sell her. I think you are right. What course are you steering now, Drew?"

"Nor'-west, your grace; for home."

"Well, then, keep her on that tack-keep her on that tack. If you answer for the rudder, we'll go home. What do you think she'd fetch as she swims?"

"Fittings and all?"

He looked round at the superbly-fitted and furnished cabin.

"Yes. Just as she swims. We'd take our personal baggage ashore, and sell all the rest."

"She's worth thirty pounds a ton builder's measurement, although, if she was a merchant ship, she would now be off the letter. Thirty pounds a ton, if she's worth a sovereign."

"Then I tell you, Drew, we three have been shipmates many years now, and you shall have the old Seabird as she stands; and if you don't want to better yourself-you are too young a man to retire-you shall get us a new and a better boat, and be our captain still."

"Your grace, I shall be glad to command your new yacht. I am very proud to think you have still confidence in me, notwithstanding my oversight of the rudder-"

"The fullest confidence, Drew. As you say, there was that seat in the way."

"But, your grace, I could scarcely bring myself to take a present of the Seabird-"

"But you shall take a present of it. Neither I nor my son want her any more."

"Well, if your grace insists, I have no choice."

"You have no choice. She's beginning to heel over already; she's beginning to feel this nor'-easter already, and so am I. My pains grow bad; I feel it in my shoulder now. You may go now. Drew, and lie down, or take a watch on deck, as you consider best. Anyway, have just another look at that rudder-head before you turn in, and come and tell me what you think; we will then finally decide as to our course."

When the captain regained the deck, he found the wind had freshened. There was as much wind now as she could bear with all fore-and-aft canvas set. It was not yet necessary to think of taking in sail, but it would be if the breeze got any stronger. She was now quite comfortable, with flying-jib and gaff-topsails. The covering-boards on the port-side were under; but Captain Drew would rather keep her going than insure a dry deck. The dead-lights were all closed, and everything snug except the rudder-head. It was worrying to think he should not have found out about that rudder-head until he was a hundred and fifty miles from Silver Bay, and upwards of a hundred and thirty from any port. But the wedging was sure to hold; in fact, it couldn't help holding, unless the wood was ten times worse than it looked.

Captain Drew went aft. The carpenter and first and second mates were still at the rudder-head. The broken-up seat had been carried away. Pritchard was still at the wheel.

"Well, Mr. Mate, what do you think of the cap now?"

"Taut as a drum now, sir."

"How does she behave? How does she feel, Pritchard?"

"Answers as good as new, sir. Look!"

He put up the wheel a little to port, and then a little to starboard; at each side, before he got the wheel two spokes over, there was a check, and plainly the jump of the rudder.

The captain rubbed his hands. He really thought now she would fetch forty pounds a ton, and tomorrow she would be his.

"Have you looked at the cap-iron, Mr. Carpenter?"

"Yes, sir; most careful."

"How is that?"

"Sound as a bell."

The captain rubbed his hands again. What a fortunate thing for him, after all, was this fault in the rudder-head. Only for it the Duke might not think, for goodness knew how long, of parting with the Seabird, and, of course, until he did think of parting with her, he could not think of making her a present to him, Captain Drew. Wonderful how things fall out!

As far as the rudder went, all now being in a satisfactory condition, and the watch sufficiently strong to deal with the duty of taking in sail, the captain told the first mate to turn in and the carpenter to go forward to his own duties, having ordered him to leave the lantern behind him. To the second mate he said:

"I'll take charge, Mr. Starclay. You can turn in, if you like."

"Thank you, sir," said the second mate; and he, too, went forward. The captain and Pritchard were now the only men on the quarter-deck. The former went below, told the Duke, and came back to the deck.

Captain Drew was too full of thought for sleep. His pay was very good, more than very good. He was perfectly content to remain as he was. The Duke and the Marquis had always treated him well. He had nothing to complain of, and he had never complained. When he was afloat he lived like a prince. When he was ashore he had a comfortable home, and a wife and children, who were dearer to him than all the rest of the world. But, notwithstanding the liberal pay of the Duke, and that he had been many years in his grace's employment, he had, owing to no extravagance on his part, but to the way in which he had kept his home and brought up his family, been able to lay nothing aside for a rainy day. Now he was between forty and fifty; all his children were still upon his hands, and his pay was no more than kept them and his wife comfortably. He had of late felt some anxiety as to what he should do with his boys and girls. He knew that if anything happened to himself, the Duke would pension his widow. But the children were now old enough to have their careers indicated at least, and he lacked the means of starting them.

Now all had been changed. This yacht would become his property the moment they reached Silver Bay, and she would fetch from five to six thousand pounds! What a blessing! She was as good as his own already. They all thought the rudder-head would hold. For anything else he cared nothing. She was a good sea-boat. She was stiff. He knew her from stem to stem. If the rudder-cap held, he feared nothing wind or wave could do. This gift had made his fortune, and from the Seabird's deck he would not go until she had dropped anchor safe inside the reef-protected Silver Bay.

He told the steward to bring him a cup of coffee, and having put on his pea-jacket, and lighted a pipe, he shook himself, and began pacing the quarterdeck at the windward side.

As his feet fell upon the planks, he thought, "My own! My own! The craft I've sailed these many years, the best years of my life, now is all mine, to do with as I please! And what shall I do with her? Sell her! Sell her, and put my little ones fair before the wind?"

"How does she answer now, Pritchard?" he asked the man at the wheel.

"Fast as a racer, sir," replied the man.

"That's right! That's right!" said the captain, rubbing his hands, and drawing his pipe heartily.

It was the rule of the yacht that the officer in charge, be he captain or mate, should not smoke. This was the captain's first infringement of the rule, but there were excuses for him. There was no likelihood that either the Duke or the Marquis would come on deck again that night; and in less than four-and-twenty hours the craft he commanded would be his own. He was now in the zenith of his fortune. All his worldly future was fairly provided for, and he was mapping it out with a loving hand.

He paused in his walk, and caught the bulwark, tried to shake it, that he might enjoy the consciousness of the vessel's-his vessel's-strength. He laid his hand on the mainboom, as one pats the head of a favourite child. He looked down the skylight, and saw the satin-wood panels, the silver fittings, the rich velvet curtains and upholstery.

Then he took up the lantern and directed the light from the bull's-eye on to the unshapely ragged rudder-head. The carpenter had not been able to drive all the wedges fully home, nor had he cut them off level with the rudder-cap. The clean newly-cut wedges, standing up in the rude oval formed by the line inside the cap-iron, looked like a double set of irregular teeth laid flat and open or dislocated. The upper surface of the rudder appeared lozenge-shaped, but only the outline of the iron was lozenge-shaped. The wood and the inner side formed an octagon, the sides of which were arcs of large circles, the plain being longer by one-third than broad. The irons, when they reached what may be termed the base or after-line of the octagon, increased greatly in thickness, and at the line of the base were pierced by an iron bolt which was riveted over a pair of washers, and this bolt formed the base-line of the ironwork aft. The iron sides of the octagon were continued aft, and brought together at a gentle angle, until they met the iron helm, to which they were firmly welded; the strength of this joint being enormously increased by a stout exterior ring clasping all three together, and welded to all three; following the helm-iron forward, between those two side bands over the bolt, through the rudder-head, it was finally riveted over a washer in the foremost iron side of the band.

The workmanship was excellent, and the whole looked as firm as human hands could make it.

The interior of the iron was an irregular octagon, the exterior was rounded and lozenge-shaped. The captain now, for the first time, noticed two things: namely, that the lozenge-shape, which looked so well, had been obtained at the expense of strength; and, that the helm-iron must be broken off short at the point where it entered the rudder-head. The exterior oval had been produced by thinning away the iron at points exterior to the interior angles. Unless the helm-iron had been broken, the cap-iron could not have worked so freely a while ago.

These two discoveries filled him with uneasiness. He knelt down on the deck and turned the full glare of the bull's eye on the jagged rudder-head and the symmetrical mass of ironwork.

This closer examination somewhat allayed his fears. If, as he knelt, he could have seen what was slowly, surely, creeping upwards towards him in the darkness, he would have sprung to his feet in despair.