"Pull!" urged Gregory, for the danger was not yet over.
Peter was visibly tiring. Mr. Heatherington facing forward, assisted him by pushing against the loom of the heavy oar. Kenneth was faring better, although the sweat rolled in rivulets down his face.
"Pull!" roared the skipper again. "Keep her going for Heaven's sake!"
A second roller was on the point of breaking, its majestic progress temporarily impeded by the bows of the luckless Talca which still remained a few feet above the surface.
Gregory realized that it was another case of touch and go. The boat's sole chance lay in being able to surmount the wave before the breaking part, which was moving rapidly along the crest, reached the point for which the little craft was being urged with all the relatively puny efforts of the oarsmen.
Climb it she did, with white water within twenty yards of her. Slid down the slope, her bottom boards awash, and her crew almost too exhausted to lift the blades clear of the water.
"Easy now!" ordered Gregory. "We're nearly through!"
The worst part of the passage was successfully accomplished. An hour later the boat drew clear of the reefs and gained the open sea.
"Boat oars!" ordered Captain Gregory. "There's a breeze coming up astern."
Thankfully the chums laid in the heavy ash oars, and flexed their stiff and blistered fingers. The masts were stepped, rudder reshipped, canvas hoisted and sheeted home. The water rippled gleefully against the stem and gurgled aft, leaving a trail of bubbles in the boat's wake.
"She'll do," declared Captain Gregory. "Take her, Mr. Heatherington, please. Course, north twenty west. I'm feeling a bit done up—my shoulder, I think."
Even as Mr. Heatherington grasped the tiller, the staunch old skipper slipped from the stern-bench and collapsed inert upon the gratings.
CHAPTER XXVIII. A WARM RECEPTION AT TALAI
Again the tiller changed hands, Mr. Heatherington telling Kenneth to take command while he attended to the insensible Captain Gregory.
It did not take him long to discover the reason for the skipper's collapse. His old wound had broken out afresh. Although he must have suffered terribly during the last hour or so, Gregory had stuck grimly and uncomplainingly to his task, never relinquishing the steering oar, and later the tiller, until the boat was under sail and free from danger.
All that could be done for the present was to re-bandage the wound, bathe the patient's head and neck, and leave him as comfortably placed as circumstances permitted upon the stern-gratings, with a piece of canvas to screen him from the now fierce rays of the morning sun.
At a modest three knots the boat held on her course for the distant island of Talai. Gradually Boya dropped astern, until by mid-day the highest of the triple peaks dropped beneath the horizon. Ahead lay a seemingly unbounded, trackless expanse of blue water, without land, vessel, or even a smudge of distant smoke to break the circular rim of the sky-line.
The wind having veered a point or two, now blew steadily on the port quarter. With sheets freed and canvas drawing without a shake the boat footed it merrily.
The chums enjoyed the sensation immensely. It was their first experience of open boat work at sea, and, as the sun climbed until it reached the zenith, they had nothing to indicate the direction in which they were going except the compass card. In previous trips they had made, they had been always within sight of land. They had fixed objects on which to keep the boat's head. Now the situation was different. They had to rely solely upon the little compass.
At length Captain Gregory recovered consciousness. Almost his first words on opening his eyes and seeing Kenneth at the helm were: "How's her head?"
"North twenty west," replied the lad.
"Good," rejoined Gregory. He muttered a few unintelligible words, and feebly asked for water.
Mr. Heatherington supplied his wants, and told him to sleep if he could.
"Ay, sure," exclaimed the skipper. "Keep her as she is, sir. Mind you, I can't swear to the variation, but I think it's about right. Hang on to the course, and we won't miss Talai by more than a few miles."
With this somewhat cryptic utterance Captain Gregory lay down and dropped into a sound sleep.
"What did he mean, Pater?" asked Kenneth.
"I rather fancy he referred to that perplexing quality that affects compasses: variation, or the difference between true north and the magnetic north as indicated by the compass needle," replied Mr. Heatherington. "According to the compass we are heading practically N.N.W. Actually we may be steering anywhere up to twenty degrees of that bearing, owing to the variation being easterly. What the difference really is, I don't know. We can only hope that Gregory does and has made allowances accordingly. If not, and we miss the group of islands in the vicinity of Talai, we've two thousand miles of open sea before we knock chips off the South American continent."
The rest of the day passed almost without incident. In the absence of any mechanical means of knowing the time the three able-bodied members of the boat's crew took approximately two hours' trick at the helm. Meals they had whenever they felt really hungry; and they adhered strictly to the maxim: "no drink between meals", although the drink was merely plain water. In spite of the torrid temperature, they contrived to keep the water cool by the simple expedient of covering the breakers with cloth constantly steeped in salt water.
Kenneth and Peter were radiantly happy. They were afloat, although their argosy was hardly the craft they would have chosen to undertake an ocean voyage. No longer the menace of the rascally Mendoza and his villainous crew hung over their heads. They were free—free through their own efforts.
Throughout the day the wind held true, but as night fell the favouring breeze petered out into a flat calm.
It was a perfect tropical night. The surface of the sea was as smooth as a sheet of glass. Overhead the stars shone brightly, while the water danced with the scintillating reflections of heaven's lights. The dew-sodden canvas hung idly from the yards, while—the one fly in the ointment—the pleasurable kick of the helm was no longer felt.
Taking turns at keeping watch lest a sudden squall should sweep down upon the motionless boat, the three spent the night in comparative comfort, until at about half-past five in the morning grey dawn showed in the eastern sky.
Then Captain Gregory awoke, declaring that he felt as fit as a fiddle, and insisted on taking charge of the useless tiller.
"There's no saying how far we've drifted during the night," he declared. "Miles, maybe, if we're within the influence of the North Equatorial Current. By Jove! I wish I had my sextant and a chart."
He realized that he was lost without his "tools". In the absence of proper navigating instruments he was unable to fix the position. He was uncertain as to the boat's drift and leeway; even the compass might be grievously in error, not only as regards variation but deviation as well. In his mind he knew that the chances of making Talai were as remote as finding the proverbial needle in a bundle of hay, but having once expressed his misgivings as to the boat's drift, he maintained an outward show of cheerful confidence.
Soon after sunrise the welcome breeze sprang up again, blowing from the same quarter. The dun-brown canvas changed to grey as the dew dried under the strengthening rays of the sun. Again the rippling wake and the gentle vibration of the rudder served to indicate that the little craft was steadily increasing the distance between her and Boya Island.
Towards midday the breeze died away, stifled under the terrific heat of the sun. It was then that the chums realized to the full the discomforts of open boat work. On board the Paloma even on the hottest day, the motion of the vessel set up a cooling draught. Double awnings served as an efficient protection from the sun's rays. There were deck-chairs in which to lie at one's ease (that was, of course, before the mutineers gave trouble); room to walk about; iced drinks to quench their thirst. In the Paloma's boat none of these conditions existed. They were cooped up, scantily clad, exposed to the direct glare of the sun, stifled almost by the radiation from the mirror-like sea. In addition they developed a salt water rash, in spite of the fact that for days past they had been exposed to the open air and the salt-laden breezes.