The decisive incidents of our cruise were now fast approaching. Looking back on the steps that led to them, and anxious that the reader should be wholly with us in our point of view, I think I cannot do better than give extracts from my diary of the next three days:
“Oct. 16 (up at 6.30, yacht high and dry). Of the three galliots out at anchor in the channel yesterday, only one is left.... I took my turn with the breakers this morning and walked to Wangeroog, whose village I found half lost in sand drifts, which are planted with tufts of marram-grass in mathematical rows, to give stability and prevent a catastrophe1 like that at Pompeii. A friendly grocer told me all there is to know, which is little. The islands are what we thought them—barren for the most part, with a small fishing population, and a scanty2 accession of summer visitors for bathing. The season is over now, and business slack for him. There is still, however, a little trade with the mainland in galliots and lighters3, a few of which come from the ‘siels’ on the mainland. ‘Had these harbours?’ I asked. ‘Mud-holes!’ he replied, with a contemptuous laugh. (He is a settler in these wilds, not a native.) Said he had heard of schemes for improving them, so as to develop the islands as health-resorts, but thought it was only a wild speculation4.
“A heavy tramp back to the yacht, nearly crushed by impedimenta. While Davies made yet another trip, I stalked some birds with a gun, and obtained what resembled a specimen5 of the smallest variety of jack-snipe, and small at that; but I made a great noise, which I hope persuaded somebody of the purity of our motives6.
“We weighed anchor at one o’clock, and in passing the anchored galliot took a good look at her. Kormoran was on her stern; otherwise she was just like a hundred others. Nobody was on deck.
“We spent the whole afternoon till dark exploring the Harle, or gap between Wangeroog and Spiekeroog; the sea breaking heavily on the banks outside.... Fine as the day was, the scene from the offing was desolate7 to the last degree. The naked spots of the two islands are hideous8 in their sterility9: melancholy10 bits of wreck-wood their only relief, save for one or two grotesque11 beacons12, and, most bizarre of all, a great church-tower, standing13 actually in the water, on the north side of Wangeroog, a striking witness to the encroachment14 of the sea. On the mainland, which was barely visible, there was one very prominent landmark15, a spire16, which from the chart we took to be that of Esens, a town four miles inland.
“The days are growing short. Sunset is soon after five, and an hour later it is too dark to see booms and buoys17 distinctly. The tides also are awkward just now.[1] High-water at morning and evening is between five and six—just at twilight18. For the night, we groped with the lead into the Muschel Balge, the tributary19 channel which laps round the inside of Spiekeroog, and lay in two fathoms20, clear of the outer swell21, but rolling a little when the ebb22 set in strong against the wind.
[1] I exclude all the technicalities that I can, but the reader should take note that the tide-table is very important henceforward.
“A galliot passed us, going west, just as we were stowing sails; too dark to see her name. Later, we saw her anchor-light higher up our channel.
“The great event of the day has been the sighting of a small German gunboat, steaming slowly west along the coast. That was about half-past four, when we were sounding along the Harle.
“Davies identified her at once as the Blitz, Commander von Brüning’s gunboat. We wondered if he recognised the Dulcibella, but, anyway, she seemed to take no notice of us and steamed slowly on. We quite expected to fall in with her when we came to the islands, but the actual sight of her has excited us a good deal. She is an ugly, cranky little vessel23, painted grey, with one funnel24. Davis is contemptuous about her low freeboard forward; says he would rather go to sea in the Dulce. He has her dimensions and armament (learnt from Brassey) at his fingers’ ends: one hundred and forty feet by twenty-five, one 4.9 gun, one 3.4, and four maxims—an old type. Just going to bed; a bitterly cold night.
“Oct. 17.—Glass falling heavily this morning, to our great disgust. Wind back in the SW and much warmer. Starting at 5.30 we tacked26 on the tide over the ‘watershed27’ behind Spiekeroog. So did the galliot we had seen last night, but we again missed identifying her, as she weighed anchor before we came up to her berth28. Davies, however, swore she was the Kormoran. We lost sight of her altogether for the greater part of the day, which we spent in exploring the Otzumer Ee (the gap between Langeoog and Spiekeroog), now and then firing some perfunctory shots at seals and sea-birds . . . (nautical details omitted). . . . In the evening we were hurrying back to an inside anchorage, when we made a bad mistake; did, in fact, what we had never done before, ran aground on the very top of high water, and are now sitting hard and fast on the edge of the Rute Flat, south of the east spit of Langeoog. The light was bad, and a misplaced boom tricked us; kedging-off failed, and at 8 p.m. we were left on a perfect Ararat of sand, and only a yard or two from that accursed boom, which is perched on the very summit, as a lure29 to the unwary. It is going to blow hard too, though that is no great matter, as we are sheltered by banks on the sou’-west and nor’-west sides, the likely quarters. We hope to float at 6.15 to-morrow morning, but to make sure of being able to get her off, we have been transferring some ballast to the dinghy, by way of lightening the yacht—a horrid30 business handling the pigs of lead, heavy, greasy31, and black. The saloon is an inferno32, the deck like a collier’s, and ourselves like sweeps.
“The anchors are laid out, and there is nothing more to be done.
“Oct. 18—Half a gale33 from the sou’-west when we turned out, but it helped us to float off safely at six. The dinghy was very nearly swamped with the weight of lead in it, and getting the ballast back into the yacht was the toughest job of all. We got the dinghy alongside, and Davies jumped in (nearly sinking it for good), balanced himself, fended34 off, and, whenever he got a chance, attached the pigs one by one on to a bight of rope, secured to the peak halyards, on which I hoisted36 from the deck. It was touch and go for a few minutes, and then easier.
“It was nine before we had finished replacing the pigs in the hold, a filthy37 but delicate operation, as they fit like a puzzle, and if one is out of place the floor-boards won’t shut down. Coming on deck after it, we saw to our surprise the Blitz, lying at anchor in the Schill Balje, inside Spiekeroog, about a mile and a half off. She must have entered the Otzumer Ee at high-water for shelter from the gale; a neat bit of work for a vessel of her size, as Davies says she draws nine-foot-ten, and there can’t be more than twelve on the bar at high-water neaps. Several smacks38 had run in too, and there were two galliots farther up our channel, but we couldn’t make out if the Kormoran was one.
“When the banks uncovered we lay more quietly, so landed and took a long, tempestuous39 walk over the Rute, with compass and notebooks. Returning at two, we found the glass tumbling down almost visibly.
“I suggested running for Bensersiel, one of the mainland villages south-west of us, on the evening flood, as it seemed just the right opportunity, if we were to visit one of those ‘siels’ at all. Davies was very lukewarm, but events overcame him. At 3.30 a black, ragged40 cloud, appearing to trail into the very sea, brought up a terrific squall. This passed, and there was a deathly pause of ten minutes while the whole sky eddied41 as with smoke-wreaths. Then an icy puff42 struck us from the north-west, rapidly veering43 till it reached north-east; there it settled and grew harder every moment.
“‘Sou’-west to north-east—only the worst sort do that,’ said Davies.
“The shift to the east changed the whole situation (as shifts often have before), making the Rute Flats a lee shore, while to windward lay the deep lagoons44 of the Otzumer Ee, bounded indeed by Spiekeroog, but still offering a big drift for wind and sea. We had to clear out sharp, to set the mizzen. It was out of the question to beat to windward, for it was blowing a hurricane in a few minutes. We must go to leeward45, and Davies was for running farther in well behind the Jans sand, and not risking Bensersiel. A blunder of mine, when I went to the winch to get up anchor, settled the question. Thirty out of our forty fathoms of chain were out. Confused by the motion and a blinding sleet-shower that had come on, and forgetting the tremendous strain on the cable, I cast the slack off the bitts and left it loose. There was then only one turn of the chain round the drum, enough in ordinary weather to prevent it running out. But now my first heave on the winch-lever started it slipping, and in an instant it was whizzing out of the hawse-pipe and overboard. I tried to stop it with my foot, stumbled at a heavy plunge46 of the yacht, heard something snap below, and saw the last of it disappear. The yacht fell off the wind, and drifted astern. I shouted, and had the sense to hoist35 the reefed foresail at once. Davies had her in hand in no time, and was steering47 south-west. Going aft I found him cool and characteristic.
“‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said; ‘anchor’s buoyed48. (Ever since leaving the Elbe we had had a buoy-line on our anchor against the emergency of having to slip our cable and run. For the same reason the end of the chain was not made permanently49 fast below.) We’ll come back to-morrow and get it. Can’t now. Should have had to slip it anyhow; wind and sea too strong. We’ll try for Bensersiel. Can’t trust to a warp50 and kedge out here.’
“An exciting run it was, across country, so to speak, over an unboomed watershed; but we had bearings from our morning’s walk. Shoal water all the way and a hollow sea breaking everywhere. We soon made out the Bensersiel booms, but even under mizzen and foresail only we travelled too fast, and had to heave to outside them, for the channel looked too shallow still. We lowered half the centreboard and kept her just holding her own to windward, through a most trying period. In the end had to run for it sooner than we meant, as we were sagging51 to leeward in spite of all, and the light was failing. Bore up at 5.15, and raced up the channel with the booms on our left scarcely visible in the surf and rising water. Davies stood forward, signalling—port, starboard, or steady—with his arms, while I wrestled52 with the helm, flung from side to side and flogged by wave-tops. Suddenly found a sort of dyke53 on our right just covering with sea. The shore appeared through scud54, and men on a quay55 shouting. Davies brandished56 his left arm furiously; I ported hard, and we were in smoother water. A few seconds more and we were whizzing through a slit57 between two wood jetties. Inside a small square harbour showed, but there was no room to round up properly and no time to lower sails. Davies just threw the kedge over, and it just got a grip in time to check our momentum58 and save our bowsprit from the quayside. A man threw us a rope and we brought up alongside, rather bewildered.
“Not more so than the natives, who seemed to think we had dropped from the sky. They were very friendly, with an undercurrent of disappointment, having expected salvage59 work outside, I think. All showed embarrassing helpfulness in stowing sails, etc. We were rescued by a fussy60 person in uniform and spectacles, who swept them aside and announced himself as the Custom-house officer (fancy such a thing in this absurd mud-hole!), marched down into the cabin, which was in a fearful mess and wringing61 wet, and producing ink, pen, and a huge printed form, wanted to know our cargo62, our crew, our last port, our destination, our food, stores, and everything. No cargo (pleasure); captain, Davies; crew, me; last port, Brunsbüttel; destination, England. What spirits had we? Whisky, produced. What salt? Tin of Cerebos, produced, and a damp deposit in a saucer. What coffee? etc. Lockers63 searched, guns fingered, bunks64 rifled. Meanwhile the German charts and the log, the damning clues to our purpose, were in full evidence, crying for notice which they did not get. (We had forgotten our precautions in the hurry of our start from the Rute.) When the huge form was as full as he could make it, he suddenly became human, talkative, and thirsty; and, when we treated him, patronising. It seemed to dawn on him that, under our rough clothes and crust of brine and grime, we were two mad and wealthy aristocrats65, worthy66 protégés of a high official. He insisted on our bringing our cushions to dry at his house, and to get rid of him we consented, for we were wet, hungry, and longing67 to change and wash. He talked himself away at last, and we hid the log and charts; but he returned, in the postmaster’s uniform this time before we had finished supper, and haled us and our cushions up through dark and mud to his cottage near the quay. To reach it we crossed a small bridge spanning what seemed to be a small river with sluice-gates, just as we had thought.
“He showed his prizes to his wife, who was quite flustered68 by the distinguished69 strangers, and received the cushions with awe70; and next we were carried off to the Gasthaus and exhibited to the village circle, where we talked ducks and weather. (Nobody takes us seriously; I never felt less like a conspirator71.) Our friend, who is a feather-headed chatterbox, is enormously important about his ridiculous little port, whose principal customer seems to be the Langeoog post-boat, a galliot running to and fro according to tide. A few lighters also come down the stream with bricks and produce from the interior, and are towed to the islands. The harbour has from five to seven feet in it for two hours out of twelve! Herr Schenkel talked us back to the yacht, which we found resting on the mud—and here we are. Davies pretends there are harbour smells, and says he won’t be able to sleep; is already worrying about how to get away from here. Ashore72, they were saying that it’s impossible, under sail, in strong north-east winds, the channel being too narrow to tack25 in. For my part I find it a huge relief to be in any sort of harbour after a fortnight in the open. There are no tides or anchors to think about, and no bumping or rolling. Fresh milk to-morrow!”
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1
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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lighters
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| n.打火机，点火器( lighter的名词复数 ) | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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sterility
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| n.不生育，不结果，贫瘠，消毒，无菌 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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beacons
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| 灯塔( beacon的名词复数 )； 烽火； 指路明灯； 无线电台或发射台 | |
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13
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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14
encroachment
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| n.侵入，蚕食 | |
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15
landmark
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| n.陆标，划时代的事，地界标 | |
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spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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buoys
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| n.浮标( buoy的名词复数 )；航标；救生圈；救生衣v.使浮起( buoy的第三人称单数 )；支持；为…设浮标；振奋…的精神 | |
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18
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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tributary
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| n.支流；纳贡国；adj.附庸的；辅助的；支流的 | |
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fathoms
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| 英寻( fathom的名词复数 ) | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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funnel
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| n.漏斗；烟囱；v.汇集 | |
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tack
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| n.大头钉；假缝，粗缝 | |
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tacked
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| 用平头钉钉( tack的过去式和过去分词 )； 附加，增补； 帆船抢风行驶，用粗线脚缝 | |
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watershed
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| n.转折点，分水岭，分界线 | |
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berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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inferno
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| n.火海；地狱般的场所 | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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fended
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| v.独立生活，照料自己( fend的过去式和过去分词 )；挡开，避开 | |
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hoist
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| n.升高，起重机，推动；v.升起，升高，举起 | |
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hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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38
smacks
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| 掌掴（声）( smack的名词复数 )； 海洛因； （打的）一拳； 打巴掌 | |
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tempestuous
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| adj.狂暴的 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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eddied
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| 起漩涡，旋转( eddy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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43
veering
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| n.改变的；犹豫的；顺时针方向转向；特指使船尾转向上风来改变航向v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的现在分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
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44
lagoons
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| n.污水池( lagoon的名词复数 )；潟湖；（大湖或江河附近的）小而浅的淡水湖；温泉形成的池塘 | |
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45
leeward
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| adj.背风的；下风的 | |
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46
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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47
steering
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| n.操舵装置 | |
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48
buoyed
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| v.使浮起( buoy的过去式和过去分词 )；支持；为…设浮标；振奋…的精神 | |
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permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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warp
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| vt.弄歪，使翘曲，使不正常，歪曲，使有偏见 | |
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51
sagging
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| 下垂[沉，陷]，松垂，垂度 | |
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52
wrestled
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| v.（与某人）搏斗( wrestle的过去式和过去分词 )；扭成一团；扭打；（与…）摔跤 | |
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53
dyke
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| n.堤，水坝，排水沟 | |
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scud
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| n.疾行；v.疾行 | |
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quay
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| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
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56
brandished
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| v.挥舞( brandish的过去式和过去分词 )；炫耀 | |
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slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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58
momentum
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| n.动力，冲力，势头；动量 | |
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salvage
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| v.救助，营救，援救；n.救助，营救 | |
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fussy
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| adj.为琐事担忧的，过分装饰的，爱挑剔的 | |
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61
wringing
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| 淋湿的，湿透的 | |
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62
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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lockers
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| n.寄物柜( locker的名词复数 ) | |
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64
bunks
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| n.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的名词复数 )；空话，废话v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的第三人称单数 )；空话，废话 | |
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aristocrats
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| n.贵族( aristocrat的名词复数 ) | |
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66
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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67
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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68
flustered
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| adj.慌张的；激动不安的v.使慌乱，使不安( fluster的过去式和过去分词) | |
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69
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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70
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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71
conspirator
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| n.阴谋者，谋叛者 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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