  Even as they watched, a working light mounted on the foremast suddenly flooded the foredeck with brilliance, bringing the shadowy figures into sharp focus, like actors on a brightly lighted stage. Instinctively, Sandy and Jerry shrank back into the shadow of the life-jacket box, until Sandy realized that the bright light on the foredeck would make the rest of the ship almost invisible to people in its rays. For a few seconds or more, the boys watched the tableau below them until several of the sailors ambled over to the windlass. Then Jerry said, “They’re getting ready to hoist the anchor now. We have to move fast if we’re going to get to our boat before Jones gets to his!” Still exercising the greatest care, they re-laced the canvas where they had entered the lifeboat, then quietly crept alongside the rails under the lifeboats until they came to the ladder connecting the boat deck to the afterdeck. This, fortunately, was both deserted and unlighted, the deck crew having all gone forward to work on the windlass. The boys made their way down to the point where they had come on board via the rope ladder, which was still slung over the side, waiting for Jones’s departure. Looking over the bulwark, they saw the two sloops below them, bobbing gently in the swell that washed against the sheer side of the tall freighter. They looked almost unbelievably peaceful, and Sandy thought once again about Jones’s comments about the unsuspicious looks of sailing craft. Next to their trim, small shapes, the freighter looked every bit as sinister as it had actually proved to be! “This is it,” Sandy whispered. “Let’s make it fast!” He stepped over the bulwark and disappeared down the rope ladder. Jerry was as close behind him as he could get without running the risk of stepping on Sandy’s hands. A moment more brought them to the deck of the sloop. “Now comes the hard part,” Jerry whispered. “We’ve got to get our sails up and shove off without anyone seeing or hearing us—and it’s not exactly a quiet job. In fact, if I remember right, our slides squeak pretty badly in their track. I noticed it when we first took it out, and made a mental note to oil the track as soon as we got some time.” “Maybe we’d better not risk it,” Sandy said. “Is there some way we can get away from here without having to hoist the sails right away?” “Well ...” Jerry said, “if there were enough current, we could drift off, but I don’t think there is. Besides, it would take a long time, and I don’t think we’ve got too much time to waste right now.” “Suppose we tow it off behind the dinghy?” Sandy asked. “You know, the way we brought it out of the harbor for the first day’s sail.” “Good!” Jerry exclaimed. But it only took a moment’s search to assure them that the dinghy was not with them. “Jones must have left it tied to his mooring,” Jerry said. “That puts us back where we started.” “I guess there’s nothing to do but try it with our sails,” Sandy said. As he started to move forward, Jerry stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Wait a minute! I think I know a way to do this! I remember I was once taught about sculling with the rudder. You use it like an oar. I’ve never had to try it, but this is probably the best time. C’mon! Let’s cast off those lines!” Working swiftly, Sandy cast off the bow line while Jerry did the same with the line at the stern. Then both of them pushed off from the side of the freighter, and the little sloop drifted noiselessly away from the scarred steel cliff of the huge hull. The bright light from the foredeck spilled on the waters around the bow of the ship, and seemed even to light up the sloop. Sandy only hoped that whoever was standing lookout on the freighter was within that circle of light. If he was in the darkness of the upper decks, even the few dim beams that reflected from the white hull of the little sailboat would shine out like a warning beacon against the dark waters! Sandy worked his way aft over the cabin roof, and dropped into the cockpit to join Jerry at the tiller. Jerry was carefully working the tiller backward and forward, making small gurgling sounds as the rudder swept through the water. “Here’s the way it works,” he said. “I’m using the rudder like a single stern paddle. Lots of boats in the old days used to be run like that. If the paddle’s properly shaped, it will do a good job of propelling a boat. They call a long stern oar a sweep, and it’s good enough so that it’s still used on heavy barges in lots of places around the world.” “Won’t it just push the stern around from one side to the other?” Sandy asked. “Not if you do it carefully,” Jerry replied. “What I’m doing is this: I ease the rudder to one side, slowly, so as not to row with it. Then I give it a strong pull toward me—like this—and then I shove it halfway back.” As he spoke, he hauled on the rudder, and the stern of the sloop swung around a bit, but the return motion of the rudder stopped the swinging action and steadied the sloop on her course. Sandy saw small ripples form a wake behind the boat as some forward motion was gained. As Jerry repeated the gentling, pulling and returning of the rudder, the sloop gained a little more forward speed. Slowly, the rusted sides of the black freighter slid by them. “So far, so good,” Sandy said. “If we keep this up, we’ll be able to get away before we’re spotted.” “I hope so,” Jerry agreed fervently, pulling strongly on his improvised sweep. By now the sloop was some thirty feet or more away from the freighter, and heading past the overhanging stern of the big ship. Suddenly, the stillness of the night was shattered by a roar and clank of machinery. “It’s the windlass!” Jerry cried. “They’re getting ready to haul up the anchor! Jones must be ready to go over to his boat!” Even as he spoke, a flare of work lights came up over the freighter’s afterdeck, clearly showing Jones and the Captain standing by the head of the rope ladder, flanked by Turk and Bull. The Captain and Jones were shaking hands, apparently having concluded a deal on the counterfeit cargo that pleased them both. Neither of them had as yet looked over the side to see that one of the sloops was missing. “We can’t chance this any more,” Jerry said. “We’re bound to be discovered in another minute, when Jones starts over the ladder! Let’s get those sails up now, and do the best we can!” “You’re right,” Sandy agreed, swiftly leaping atop the cabin roof to reach the main halyards. Taking a deep breath, he hauled. With a screech, the slides moved stiffly up the track, and the mainsail fluttered overhead. Moving quickly, Sandy grasped the jib halyard and hoisted it aloft while Jerry was fastening the main halyard to its cleat. The sloop began to make headway in the light breeze. Then, as Sandy joined his friend in the cockpit, the sloop sailed clear of the shadows that lay below the stern of the freighter, and into the circle of light that surrounded the afterdeck. At almost the same instant, a shout rang out from above them. “Look! It’s the kids!” It was Turk, who, seeing the sail like a luminous flag in the water, had sounded the alarm. “Get down!” Sandy said, pulling Jerry to the deck of the cockpit. His action came not a minute too soon for a pistol shot rang out. It was followed by a volley of shots, as more of the freighter’s crew got into the action, but the boys were unharmed, although two bullets had hit the cabin roof and one had plowed a furrow in the deck. The shooting stopped after a few more stray shots were fired, the sloop having by now moved out of effective pistol range. Making the best headway they could in the light breeze, Sandy and Jerry looked back with satisfaction to see the freighter’s crew working feverishly at the davits to get the ship’s power gig into the water. “If we can just get enough lead time,” Jerry said fervently, “we’ll make it to shore well ahead of them!” “What if Jones follows in his boat?” Sandy asked. “We’ll worry about that if he does,” Jerry answered. “He’s a good sailor, but we have a lead on him. It’ll be our first race, if it happens, and I sure hope we win!” By now the power gig was hanging over the side, its davits having been swung into launching position. The canvas cover had been removed, and several sailors clambered in, waiting for the boat to be lowered. With a creak of blocks and tackle, the lifeboat was swiftly dropped to the water. The boys could see someone bending over the engine compartment, trying to get the boat started. “Jones’ll have a long wait, if he wants to go after us in that!” Sandy chuckled. “That ship is so sloppy, I’ll bet it will take them an hour just to find the parts they need, once they discover what’s wrong!” But apparently Jones wasn’t going to wait. He had sized up the situation quickly—too quickly—and was going over the side and down the rope ladder to the other sloop! “Oh-oh!” Jerry said. “He’s going to try to catch us in the other sloop! And we haven’t got more than a few hundred yards on him yet. This is going to be some race!” Some race! Sandy realized once again how different the meaning of speed is to a sailor and to a landsman. Here they were, in a gentle breeze on a calm sea, preparing to race for their very lives—and they would probably not sail faster than he could walk! Consulting the stars, Jerry set a downwind course, and the boat headed slowly but steadily toward the mainland. “We’d do better on some other point of sail,” Jerry said, “but there’s one consolation.” “What’s that?” Sandy asked. “He’s got to sail on the same course we take, so he can’t take advantage of any more favorable wind than the one we get. That, and the fact that the boats are the same, at least puts us on an even footing.” By now, Jones and a crew member were in the sloop, and were getting the sails up. Sandy watched as the mainsail caught the light from the freighter, followed almost immediately by the jib. The sloop swung about into the trail of light that danced on the water between them and the big ship, and set her sails for a downwind tack. Small waves whispered softly at the bow, and bubbles gurgled quietly in the wake. The mainsheet hardly pulled at all in Sandy’s hand as the sail caught all the wind there was to catch. Hardly seeming to move at all, the sloop glided slowly ahead in the soft night breeze. And the toughest race they would ever sail was under way! |
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