CHAPTER III.

THE GALE.

The crew of the cutter knew not what to make of the solitary and singular passenger they had on board, and whom the Vierlander woman agreed to attend till they reached Heligoland.

They had often seen ladies on board during runs to the Mediterranean and elsewhere, who were certainly not quite the
crême de la crême
; but that was no business of theirs, and now, though Sleath would have disdained to acknowledge it, and Ellinor knew it not, the presence of Dewsnap and Ringbolt (though neither of them were very meritorious characters) proved a species of protection to her, but the sturdy, honest Vierlander more than all.

Thus her tormentor resolved that he would take her ashore with him in some place, where she would be more completely at his mercy among absolute strangers and dependent upon him for existence.

The crew of the yacht had saved her life, so they could scarcely be accused of abduction in keeping her on board during the bewildering fog or the blowy weather that succeeded it; but, without making the slightest effort by the use of a well-manned boat to put her ashore at Altona, they were now beating against a rough, head wind, and attempting to get out of the Elbe for sea.

To where and for what purpose? Heligoland could only be touched at in passing. Were they to haul up for England after that? Such, were a few of the surmises among the men forward.

Mid-day after the fog lifted saw the
Flying Foam
under weigh, with canvas set, the foresail braced sharp up, the jib and fore-and-aft mainsail set, the boom of the latter well on board, as she was running close-hauled against a head wind for the mouth of the Elbe, some eighty miles distant, and making long tacks as the river widened.

Altona and then Blankenese, a tiny fishing village, with its houses scattered along the green slope among the trees, terraced over each other, were soon left astern, and the head of the cutter pointed towards Hamburg and then Stade, with the Prussian flag flying on the ramparts of Swingerschanze, where the White Horse of Hanover will never fly again.

The wind was blowing half a gale, and some reefs were taken in the boom-mainsail when the low batteries of Gluckstadt, on the Danish side of the river, were in sight, and darkness fell soon after the last rays of the sun faded out on the spire of Freyburg; and still the close-hauled cutter, with her lights hung out, laboured on, and ere long, as the river, with all its treacherous shoals, widened, she became assailed by impetuous attacks of the sea.

The past day had been dull and hazy, and the half-gale now subsided almost entirely, but then the cutter rolled heavily, adding to the misery of the unfortunate Ellinor. Then the wind, blowing from the level coast, would recover its strength, and, changing its direction, become furious, while a heavy swell came on, and when dawn stole in the
Flying Foam
, still close-hauled on the port tack, was standing over towards Cuxhaven, the shore of which is so low that the only objects seen against the sky were the flagstaff of a battery and the guns of the latter mounted
en barbette
.

There the river pilot went on shore, when the cutter, lying on the next tack, headed off to seaward, steered by Ringbolt himself, close to the wind, with her head just so near it as to keep the sails full without shaking them.

The baffling head-wind soon increased to a tempest; the timbers of the cutter groaned as she strained in the trough of the sea one moment and rode over a great wave the next, while the water poured in volumes over her deck, gorging the scuppers and carrying every loose article to leeward, and ere long the canvas was reduced until none was left than what was necessary for steering purposes.

All on board, even Dewsnap and Sleath, had donned their 'storm toggery,' and appeared on deck in oilskin jackets, with sou'-westers tied under their chins, the baronet making vows, as ever and anon he clutched a belaying pin, floundered into the loose bight of a rope, or had to oppose his back to a drenching sea, that if he were once safe on German or Danish soil, he would tempt the perils of 'the briny' no more.

All day the cutter, though so beautifully modelled and built, beat against the wind without making progress, and now one of those tempestuous gales that so often sweep the North Sea began to spend its fury on her.

Rufane Ringbolt began to look thoughtful; he had the well sounded; glanced at the binnacle and aloft ever and anon; put a fresh quid of tobacco in his cheek, and took a survey of the weather.

A cloud darker than usual and lower down obscured the sky, spreading over the zenith. A lambent glare of lightning shot through its darkest or densest part; another and another followed, and like the roar of artillery the thunder hurtled through the stormy air.

The wind lulled for an instant, permitting the
Flying Foam
to right herself from her careen, but again the wind bellowed over the sea, tearing away the foam and snow-white spoondrift from the wave-crests, and again the cutter was pressed down to her bearings by its force and fury.

Pitchy darkness came on, but the vivid lightning flashes were incessant.

Owing to the obscurity, the difficulty of the watch on deck in passing ropes to each other became great, and the alternate gleams, with a deluge of rain, so blinded them that they were scarcely able to execute an order; so, hoarsely and angrily, Ringbolt summoned on deck the watch below, and as they were somewhat tardy in obeying, he resorted, we are sorry to say, to much strong language.

'Show a leg and turn out!' he bellowed down the forecastle hatch, 'tumble up the watch—quick, you infernal chowderheads, you'll find it no child's play now.'

As this reinforcement, only three or four in number, came 'tumbling up,' half dressed, the wind suddenly burst—but for a few minutes only—from an unexpected quarter, taking the cutter aback and throwing her nearly on her beam-ends.

The man steering was hurled right over the wheel, the rest, with coils of rope and whatever was loose or had become loosened, were heaped in a mass of confusion among the lee scuppers. In alarm that the craft was foundering, Sir Redmond Sleath, forgetting all about Ellinor, then praying on her knees with arms stretched over her bed—praying till sickness again overpowered her—sought some Dutch courage in the steward's pantry by imbibing more than one stiff glass of brandy.

Ringbolt was the first to gather himself up. With an oath he reached the wheel; the spokes revolved rapidly in his powerful grasp, and the cutter was righted in time to save the mast, but still intense darkness reigned—the lights of Cuxhaven had long since melted into the sea—with tremendous peals of thunder, while vast masses of water passed over the buoyant and gallant cutter, and the blinding rain and the bitter salt spray were mingled together.

The lamp still burned in the binnacle, and the wetted garments and bronzed visage of Ringbolt shone in its wavering gleam as he grasped the spokes of the wheel, planted his feet firmly on the deck grating, and looked from time to time aloft, though he could discern nothing.

Day began to dawn, but the gale still continued. The cutter was in the Elbe mouth, though no land was in sight; but Ringbolt knew that the two sandbanks between what is called the Southern and Northern Elbe lay ahead, but northward of Merwark Island; and, just as this reflection occurred to him, the mate came aft in the grey dawn, his face expressive of concern, to report 'the lower mast sprung!'

This startling intelligence proved true, for Ringbolt found the mast had been thus injured in the gale—a great crack ran obliquely through it, rendering it quite unsafe for carrying the usual quantity of sail thereon, and he knew that unless instant precautions were taken the cutter might speedily become a wreck aloft, tidings which made the teeth of the selfish Sleath chatter in his head.

With all his errors and backslidings, Ringbolt was equal to the occasion, and became the English seaman and the officer at once.

'Sprung it is, by heavens!' he exclaimed. 'Take in sail—away aloft to the cap with the top-maul, out with the fid, stand by the mast-rope, and lower away the topmast.'

Three active fellows were soon up at the cross-trees. A stroke or two of the maul knocked out the square bar (with a shoulder at one end) that supported the weight of the topmast, which quickly slid down in front of the foremast through its upper and lower cap, and was at once made fast.

This eased alike the cutter and the mast, but it was necessary to put her before the wind, and run up the river again, as it would have been rashness to venture into the North Sea with a crippled mast. The storm had nearly spent itself, but thunder could still be heard in the distance between the lulls of the wind.

So the
Flying Foam
was once more running up the Elbe, to be repaired at Hamburg, with her topsail-yard down on the cap, her jib and staysail set, her fore and aft mainsail close reefed, and the boom so well eased off that its end skipped the waves at times as she rolled heavily before the wind.

At Cuxhaven another pilot, to take her up the river, came on board from the yacht, which, by their statutes, the inhabitants of that place are bound to have always at sea, or near the outermost buoy, to conduct any vessel requiring assistance; and, aided ere long by a tug-steamer, the
Flying Foam
, passing Altona in the night, when dawn came in again, was moored for repair in the outer portion of the Binnen Hafen, under the shadow of the lofty and wonderfully picturesque old houses of the Stubbenhuck.

And now, having recovered from his fear and tribulation. Sir Redmond Sleath began to consider in what way he could delude his luckless victim ashore.