Bevis Part 45

The boat came closer to the wind, and seemed now to be sailing straight for the quarry.

"There," said Mark, "we shall get out of the gulf in two tacks."

"But we're going very slow," said Bevis.

"It doesn't matter if we get to the quarry."

The boat continued to point at the quarry, and Bevis watched the mainsail intently, with his hand on the tiller, keeping her so that the sail should not s.h.i.+ver, and yet should be as near to it as possible.

"Splendid," said Mark, on his knees on the ballast, looking over the stem. "Splendid. It's almost time to tack."

He lifted the foresail, and peered under it at the sh.o.r.e.

"I say--well, Bevis!"

"What is it?" asked Bevis. "I'm watching the mainsail; is it time?"

"We haven't got an inch--we're going--let's see--not so far up as the rushes."

All the while the boat's head pointed at the quarry she had been making great leeway, drifting with the wind and waves. The sails scarcely drew, and she had no motion to cut her way into the wind. Instead of edging up into it, she really crossed the gulf in nearly a straight line, almost level with the spot whence she started. When Bevis tried to get her found, she would not come at all. She was moving so slowly she had no impetus, and the wind blew her back. Mark had to row round again.

"That's no use," he said. "But it looked as if it was."

"She won't sail very near the wind," said Bevis, as they crossed again towards the Nile. "We must let her run free, and keep the sails hollow."

They crossed and crossed five times more, and still came only just above the mouth of the Nile, and back to the bunch of rushes.

"I believe it's the jib," said Bevis, as they sailed for the quarry side once more. "Let's try without the jib. Perhaps it's the jib won't let her come round. Take it down."

Mark took the foresail down, and the boat did show some disposition to run up into the wind; but when Bevis tried to tack she went half-way, and then payed off and came back, and they nearly ran on the railings, so much did they drift. Still they tried without the foresail again; the boat they found did not sail so fast, and it was not the least use, she would not come round. So they re-set the foresail. Again and again they sailed to and fro, from the sh.o.r.e just above the Nile to the bunch of rushes, and never gained a foot, or if they did one way they lost it the other. They were silent for some time.

"It's like the Bay of Biscay," said Mark.

"'There she lay, all the day, In the Bay of Biscay, O!'

"And the sails look so jolly too."

"I can't make it out," said Bevis. "The sails are all proper, I'm sure they are. What can it be? We shall never get out of the gulf."

"And after all the rowing round too," said Mark. "Lubberly."

"Horrid," said Bevis. "I hope there's no other s.h.i.+p about looking at us. The sailors would laugh so. I know--Mark!"

"Yes."

"Don't row next time; we'll wear s.h.i.+p."

"What's that?"

"Turn the other way--with the wind. Very often the boom knocks you over or tears the mast out."

"Capital, only we've no boom. What must I do?"

"Nothing; you'll see. Sit still--in the middle. Now."

Bevis put the tiller over to windward. The boat paid off rapidly to leeward, and described a circle, the mainsail pa.s.sing over to the opposite side, and as it took the wind giving a jerk to the mast.

Mark tightened the other foresheet, and they began to sail back again.

"But just look!" said he.

"Horrid," said Bevis.

In describing the circle they had lost not only what they had gained, but were level with the mouth of the Nile, and not five yards from the sh.o.r.e at the head of the gulf. It was as much this tack as they could do to get above the railings; they were fifteen yards at least below the rushes, when Bevis put the tiller up to windward, and tried the same thing again. The boat turned a circle to leeward, and before she could get right round and begin to sail again, they had gone so near the sh.o.r.e, drifting, that Mark had to put out the scull in case they should b.u.mp. In crossing this time the wind blew so light that they could not get above the mouth of the Nile.

"It's no use wearing s.h.i.+p," said Mark.

"Not a bit; we lose more than ever. You'd better row again," said Bevis reluctantly.

Mark pulled her round again, and they sailed to and fro three times more, but did but keep their position, for the wind was perceptibly less as the day went on, and it became near noon.

"I hate those rushes," said Mark, as he pulled her head round once more.

Bevis did not reply, but this time he steered straight across to the Nile and up it till the bank sheltered them from the wind. There they took down the sails, quite beaten, for that day at least, and rowed back to harbour.

Next morning when they arrived at the New Sea they found that the wind came more down the water, having turned a little to the south, but it was the same in force. They started again, and sailed very well till they were opposite the hollow oak in which on the day of battle it was supposed Bevis had hidden. Here the wind was a head-wind, against which they could only work by tacking, and when they came to tack they found just the same difficulty as yesterday.

All the s.p.a.ce they gained during the tack was lost in coming round before the boat could get weigh on her. They sailed to and fro from the hollow oak to some willow bushes on the other side, and could not advance farther. Sometimes they got above the oak, but then they fell back behind the willow bushes; sometimes they worked up twenty yards higher than the willow bushes, but dropped below the oak.

Bevis soon discovered why they made better tacks now and then; it was because the wind s.h.i.+fted a little, and did not so directly oppose them.

The instant it returned to its usual course they could not progress up the sea. By the willow bushes they could partly see into Fir-Tree Gulf; yesterday they could not sail out of the gulf, and to-day, with all their efforts, they could not sail into it.

After about twenty trials they were compelled to own that they were beaten, and returned to harbour. Bevis was very much troubled with this failure, and as soon as they had got home he asked Mark to go up in the bench-room, or do anything he liked, and leave him by himself while he looked at the old encyclopaedia.

Mark did as he was asked, knowing that Bevis always learnt anything best by himself. Bevis went up into the bedroom, where the great book remained open on the chair, knelt down, and set to work to read everything there was in it on s.h.i.+ps and navigation. There was the whole history of boats and s.h.i.+ps, from the papyrus canoes of the Nile, made by plaiting the stalks, the earthenware boats, hide boats, rafts or skins, hollowed trees, bark canoes, catamarans, and proas. There was an account of the triremes of Rome, and on down to the caravels, bilanders, galliots, zebecs, and great three-deckers. The book did not quite reach to the days of glorious Nelson.

It laid down the course supposed to have been followed by Ulysses, and described the voyages of the Phoenicians to Britain. The parts of a three-decker were pictured, and the instruments of navigation were explained with ill.u.s.trations. Everything was there except what Bevis wanted, for in all this exhaustive and really interesting treatise, there were no plain directions how to tack.

There were the terms and the very orders in nautical language, but no explanation as to how it was done. Bevis shut the book up, and rose with a sigh, for he had become so occupied with his search that he had unconsciously checked his breathing. He went down to the bookcase and stood before it thoughtfully. Presently he recollected that there was something about yachting in a modern book of sports. He found it and read it carefully, but though it began about Daedalus, and finished with the exact measurement of a successful prize-winning yacht, he could not make out what he wanted.

The account was complete even to the wages of the seamen and the method of signalling with flags. There was a glossary of terms, but nothing to tell him how to tack, that is, nothing that he could understand. He put the book away, and went out into the blue-painted summer-house to think it over again.

What you really want to know is never in a book, and no one can tell you. By-and-by, if you keep it steadily in memory and ever have your eyes open, you hit on it by accident. Some mere casual incident throws the solution right into your hands at an unexpected moment.

Bevis had fitted up his boat according to his recollections of those he had seen in the pictures.

There was no sailing-boat that he could go and see nearer than forty miles. As he sat thinking it over Mark rushed up. He, too, had been thinking, and he had found something.

"I know," he said.