In the Sargasso Sea by Thomas A. Janvier (smart books to read .TXT) đź“–
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did not satisfy me. The difficulty of working myself along in that
slow fashion I foresaw would be so enormous that I very well might die
of sheer exhaustion before I got clear of the weed-tangle—which
must extend outward, as I knew from my guess at the time that I had
taken in drifting in through it, for a very long way. What I had been
counting upon ever since I had found the launch was in having part of
the work, and the heaviest part, done by her engine; my part to be the
breaking of a passage, while the motive power was to be supplied by
the screw. But of course if the screw fouled, as it certainly would
foul with the loose weed all around it, that would be the end of my
hopeful plan.
This consideration of the matter reduced it to a definite problem.
What was needed was some sort of protection for the screw that would
keep the weed away from it and yet would allow it to work freely: and,
having the case thus clearly stated, the thought presently occurred to
me that I could secure this protection by building out from the stern
of the boat, so that the screw would be enclosed in it, some sort of
an iron cage. That arrangement, I conceived, would meet the
requirements of the case fully; and being come to my conclusion I
resigned myself to still another long delay while I carried my plan
into execution, and so went to bed at last hopefully—but well knowing
that this fresh piece of work that I had cut out for myself would be
hard to do.
I certainly did not overestimate the amount of labor involved in my
cage-building. I was a good three weeks over it. But I was kept up to
the collar by my conviction that without the cage I had no chance of
succeeding in my project; and so I got it finished at last. And then I
considered that my boat really was ready to take the water; and the
cat and I had another banquet in celebration of the long step that we
had taken toward our deliverance—only this time I did not give an
altogether free rein to my rejoicing, being fearful that some other
difficulty might present itself suddenly and bring me up again with a
round turn.
The boat being ready—for I could think of nothing more to do to
her—I had still to launch her, and the first step toward that end was
breaking out a section in the steamer’s side. Luckily the stock of
cold-chisels aboard the Ville de Saint Remy was a good one; but I
dulled them all twice over—and weary work at the grindstone I had
sharpening them again—before I had chipped away the bindings of those
endless rivets and had the satisfaction of seeing the big section of
iron plate between two of her iron ribs pitch outboard and splash down
through the weed into the sea.
As I have said, the bow compartment of the steamer was full of water,
and this brought her main-deck so low down forward that the boat had
only to be slid out almost on a level through the hole that I had
made. But to slide her that way—which seems easy, because I have
happened to put it glibly—was quite a different thing. With steam
power to work the capstan I could have got the boat overboard in no
time; but without steam power the launching went desperately slowly,
and was altogether the hardest piece of work that I had to do in the
whole of my long hard job.
The boat had stood all along in the cradle that had been built to hold
her steady for the voyage. This was a very stout wooden framework
built up from two heavy beams joined by cross-pieces, and all so well
bolted together that it was very solid and firm. In this the boat
rested snugly and was held fast by rope lashings; and the cradle
itself—resting on the lower hatch and projecting on each side of
it—was lashed to the hatch ringbolts so as to be safe against
shifting in a heavy sea. I could have removed the cradle by taking it
to pieces, but that would not have helped matters; and the plan that I
decided upon—liking it better because all this woodwork around and
under the boat would protect her from harm as she went overboard—was
to weight the cradle with iron bars that would cause it to sink away
from beneath the boat when they took the water, and then to work it up
with jack-screws until I could get rollers under it and so send them
both together over the side.
How long I worked over this job I really do not know; but I do know
that at the time it seemed as though it never would come to an end.
First of all I had the rollers to make from another topgallant mast
that I got down, and when these were finished I had to go at the frame
of the cradle with a pair of jack-screws and raise it, by fractions of
an inch, until I could get my rollers under it one at a time. I think
that it was the deadly dullness of this jack-screw work that I most
resented—the stupid monotony of doing precisely the same sort of
utterly wearying work all day long and for day after day. But in the
end I got it finished: all my rollers properly in place, and the
cradle made fast to hold it from starting before I was ready to have
it go—although of that there was not much danger, for while the
steamer had a decided pitch forward she lay on an even keel.
At first I was for sending my boat overboard the minute that I got the
last roller under her; but I had the sense, luckily, to take a reef in
this brisk intention as the thought struck me that I must have open
water to launch her in or else very likely have boat and cradle
together stuck fast in the weed. And so I set myself to clearing a
little pool into which I could launch her; and as I carried this work
on I came quickly to a realizing sense of what was before me when I
should begin to break a way through the weed for my boat’s passage,
and to the conviction that had I tried to make my voyage without steam
to help me I never should have got through at all.
In point of fact, the weed was so thick and so firmly matted together
that I almost could walk on it; and when I had knocked loose a couple
of doors from their hinges and had thrown them overboard—taking two,
so that I might move one ahead of the other as my cutting advanced—I
had firm enough standing place from which I could slash away. So tough
was the mass that I was a whole day in uncovering a space less than
forty feet long by twenty broad; and when my launching-pool was
finished it had the look of a little pond in a meadow surrounded by
solid banks.
All this showed me that even with the screw to push while I cleared a
way for the boat’s passage I should have my hands full; but it also
put into my head a notion that helped me a good deal in the end. This
was to rig on the straight stem of my boat a set of guide-bars
projecting forward in which I could work perpendicularly a cross-cut
saw, and in that way to cut a slit in the weed—which would be widened
by the boat’s nose thrusting into it as the screw shoved her onward,
and so would enable me to squeeze along. And as this was a matter easy
of accomplishment—being only to double over a couple of iron bars so
that there would be a slit a half inch wide for the saw to travel in,
and to bolt them fast to the top and bottom of the boat’s stem—I did
it immediately; and it worked so well when I came to try it that I was
glad enough that I had had so lucky a thought. Indeed, had I known
how well it would turn out I should have gone a step farther and
rigged my saw to run by steam power—setting up a frame in the bows to
hold a wheel carrying a pin on which the saw could play and to which I
could make fast a bar from my piston-rod—and in that way saved myself
from the longest bit of back-breaking work that ever I had to do. But
that was a piece of foresight that came afterward, and so did me
no good.
When my guide-bars were in place, and the saw made ready to slip into
them by taking off one of its handles—and I had still a spare saw to
fall back upon in the event of the first one breaking—my boat was
ready to go overboard into the open water, where she would lie while I
put aboard of her my coal and stores. But the work that was before me,
as I thus came close to it, loomed up very large; and so did the
doubts which beset me as to how my voyage would end. Indeed, it was in
a spirit far from exultant that at last I cut the lashings which held
the cradle; and then with the tackle that I had ready got the heavy
mass started—and in a couple of minutes had my boat safely overboard
and floating free, as the cradle sunk away from under her, carried
down by its lading of iron bars.
But, whatever was to come of it, the launching of my boat started me
definitely along a fresh line of adventure, and whether I liked it or
not I had to make the best of it: and so I stated the case to my
cat—who had got scared and run off into a corner while the launching
was in progress—when he came marching up to me and seated himself
beside me gravely, as I stood in the break in the steamer’s side
looking down at the boat that I hoped would set us free.
XXXVIHOW MY CAT PROMISED ME GOOD LUCK
What would have been most useful to me as foresight, but was only
aggravating to me as hindsight—which happened to be the way that I
got it—was the very sensible notion that I might have put all of my
stores, and even a good part of my coal, aboard the boat before she
was decked over and launched. A few tons more or less would have made
no difference in moving her; but having to put those extra tons aboard
of her over the side of the steamer, and then to drag them through the
cabin and through the awkward little hatch, and at last to stow them
by the light of a lantern in her stillingly close hot hold—all that
made a lot of difference to me. However, I could not foresee
everything; and I think, on the whole, that I really did foresee most
of what I wanted pretty well.
Of provisions I took along enough to last me, by a rough calculation,
for three months; being pretty well satisfied that unless within that
time I got through the weed-tangle to open water—over which I could
make my way to land, or on which I might fall in with a passing
vessel—I never would get free at all. And I was the more disposed to
keep down my lading of provisions because I
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