Taking the raft in tow the boat made for the pier, Kenneth and Peter manning the oars, and Captain Gregory steering. The latter was bemoaning the loss of the sails all the way across the harbour.
Meanwhile Mr. Heatherington had not been content to sit down and watch the progress of the operations. He had been busily engaged in collecting coco-nuts, yams, and taro roots; and on the return of the others proposed a visit to the store-houses to obtain "dry" provisions, and an adequate supply of fresh water.
This task was put into operation and until sunset all hands were hard at work collecting stores and carrying them down to the pier-head. In addition to the provisions they discovered the boat's compass, but although an exhaustive search was made in every likely spot no trace of the sails was discovered.
As a slight compensation for the loss an old tent was brought to light. The canvas was far from being in a good condition, but Captain Gregory, critically handling the weather-worn fabric, opined that "it might do barring half a gale".
Early next morning the four were astir. While Kenneth prepared breakfast Captain Gregory cut out a rough-and-ready suit of sails, using the existing cordage as a luff-rope. In the absence of needles and sewing twine it was out of the question to do the work properly.
"It's not the needles that are the stumbling-block," explained Captain Gregory. "A fish-bone would make a fairly good substitute. I've seen Esquimaux do quite fancy stitching with a chunk of bone and skein of twine. It's the twine that kippers the contract."
However, before the heat of the day the Captain had made a fairly presentable suit of sails which in a light breeze would aid the boat considerably. He also constructed a sea-anchor, doubling the canvas to ensure it standing a heavy strain.
The while the others continued their labours, bringing down fresh water from the only known spring on the island, and drawing upon the best of the stores landed from the Paloma for the use of the shore-party. The boat was also thoroughly cleaned out, turned keel uppermost and scrubbed with canvas and sand in order to remove the thick deposit of marine growth that had adhered to her during her comparatively short time afloat in Boya harbour.
At length every possible preparation that human agency could provide from the limited resources at the adventurers' disposal having been completed, the departure from the island was fixed to take place at daybreak on the following morning. Everyone realized the gravity of the undertaking—a long voyage on the open sea to the island of Talai—but with a firm faith in Providence they felt no doubts concerning their ability to win through. There was every indication of a prolonged spell of fine weather. The severe gale that had reached its culminating point on the day following the disaster to the Paloma had blown itself out. Even the breakers on the reefs seemed less formidable than at any previous time since the Paloma first essayed the dangerous and intricate channel.
It was still dark when the little band, none of whom had slept well, rose from their beds of grass spread under the shelter of the palms. As the grey dawn showed in the eastern sky, they launched the boat, manned the oars and headed for the outer lagoon.
Soon the dismal passage between the towering walls of frowning cliffs was negotiated, and the boat began to lift to the gentle swell that undulated the clear water of the outer lagoon.
"Let's hope that was our last view of the pirates' lair!" exclaimed Kenneth, as the boat, altering course, shot out the inner harbour by one of the projecting bluffs. "'Where every prospect pleases' doesn't hold good as far as Boya is concerned."
"We aren't clear of the accursed place yet," declared Captain Gregory, giving an anxious glance to wind'ard. "Don't put so much beef into it, Mr. Arkendale. You'll be wanting all your strength when it comes to pull through the broken water."
Thus cautioned Peter eased off his stroke, greatly to the relief of the harassed Kenneth who was pulling stroke. Mr. Heatherington and Captain Gregory sat aft, both awaiting their turn to relieve the two lads at the heavy ash oars.
Twenty minutes' steady pulling brought the boat over the spot where the unfortunate Paloma had slipped off the rocks into deep water. Here there was hardly any swell to speak of, and fathoms deep the crew of the boat could discern the battered, broken-backed hull in the clear water, as she lay on her beam-ends in the white sand.
Half a mile beyond came a drastic alteration of course. Hitherto the boat had kept the replaced mark-board and a certain rock in line on a stern bearing. Now the channel turned abruptly to starboard and almost parallel to the northern shore of Boya Island.
She was beginning to feel the effects of the heavy breakers on the outermost reef. Rollers of lesser magnitude were sweeping across the channel and pounding themselves into masses of foam upon the shoal to lee'ard. Hidden ledges of sharp coral lay to port and starboard, like traps yawning for their prey. Ever and anon the boat's helm had to be put down to enable her to meet a particularly menacing comber that had swept almost resistlessly across the reefs and athwart the narrow channel.
Presently Captain Gregory and Mr. Heatherington, who had taken a brief turn at the oars, relinquished that task to the two chums. It was a case of youth having the advantage of middle age in a matter of strength. Gregory's partly healed wound, too, did not give him a chance to exert much physical strength; besides, his superior knowledge of the art of handling a boat was now to be brought to a supreme test.
"Now!" exclaimed the skipper, bawling to make his voice audible above the roar of the surf. "Easy stroke until I give the word, then put your backs into it and pull like blue blazes even if it breaks blood-vessels."
Having thus expressed himself, Captain Gregory deliberately unshipped the rudder, which would be of little use in a breaking sea, and taking up one of the spare oars placed it in the sculling-notch in the transom. Bracing his feet firmly and widely apart on the stern-gratings the skipper appeared to toy with the heavy oar, the while his keen eyes, deep-set beneath beetling brows, were fixed alertly upon the danger ahead.
Fortunately for the chums, they "kept their eyes in the boat", and did not turn their heads to see what was coming. It was bad enough to catch a glimpse out of the corners of their eyes of the huge menacing masses of water not so very far away on the boat's port quarter. Considering the stillness of the air, it seemed weird that such enormous rollers could fling themselves upon the reefs. Viewed from the deck of the Paloma they had appeared formidable enough; from a boat with a freeboard of a couple of feet, the stupendous height was enough to appal anyone.
"Pull!" roared Gregory, at the same time putting his weight against the steering oar. "Eyes in the boat! You aren't watching a boxing bout!"
For Kenneth, in his anxiety, had glanced over his shoulder, and the sight almost caused him to miss his stroke. Bearing down, upon the boat was an enormous wall of water. Quite fifty feet in height, it seemed to the lad; actually it was about fifteen.
Up reared the boat's bows. Water—gallons of it—poured aft, carrying a medley of gear with it. The little craft seemed to be standing on end—seemed like remaining there indefinitely, according to Kenneth's tortured senses.
With his whole attention centred upon the task of keeping the boat dead-on to the breakers, Captain Gregory gripped the steering oar in a vice-like grasp—a deft turn of his wrists—a quick twisting movement of his tautened arms—a long-drawn moment of suspense—then victory.
The boat slid down the reverse slope of the wave and out into the comparatively deep water beyond.