A following breeze helped Misty make good progress as she followed the coast southward. Even so, evening was drawing in before the parched shoreline gave way to increasing scrub and eventually dense forest.
‘Nice to see a bit of green,’ said Chips, lounging by the rail.
Waff contemplated the tangled mass of jungle hanging over the water.
‘We’ll have to stand off until morning. No chance of finding a creek in that lot in the dark,’ he observed.
‘All hands aft!’ called Skeet.
‘Everyone on deck tonight,’ Capt. Albern announced. ‘If the search party break out we need to take them on board and sail immediately – so we’ll risk going into the creek at high tide tonight. We’ve got one chance of making it without going aground, so keep alert and act fast. Any questions?’
‘When will we reach the creek?’ asked Tam.
‘About three in the morning. The Cook is preparing dinner now, so you’ve time to eat and rest before we go close in.’
The crew headed for the galley thoughtfully. Sailing Misty close to an unknown shore in pitch dark and turning into an inlet they would not be able to see would require the finest navigation.
‘That’s not much to see me through to breakfast,’ grumbled Jobey, staring at his plate.
‘The skipper’s ordered another meal for you once we’re safely at anchor,’ said The Cook with a sigh.
‘Two dinners in one night?’
‘You’ll have earned it,’ said Skeet. ‘Remember, one mistake and we’ll be aground for twelve hours.’
‘Assuming we don’t sink,’ muttered Jobey.
‘The skipper will do it easy,’ said Chips. ‘I remember him taking her through a harbour entrance so narrow you could step off on either side, not that you could see it in the fog. Howling gale it was too – I could feel the spray from the rocks as I stood at the helm.’
‘Really?’ said Sassy.
‘Not really,’ said Waff. ‘There was a bit of a sea mist and a heavy swell. As for Chips on the helm, he couldn’t sail a toy duck across a bath.’
‘I was referring to an occasion you were not present,’ huffed Chips.
‘How do we find an entrance we can’t see?’ queried Doc.
‘We follow the sea bed,’ explained Skeet. ‘The skipper will take us inshore until it shallows to five fathoms; then he’ll track that line on the chart along the coast until the water deepens at the creek.’
‘But how do we know how deep the water is?’
‘Tam will take soundings with the lead line.’
‘I could do that!’ objected Jobey, ‘Tam’s the best on the helm.’
‘You’d drop it, then where would we be,’ said Pickle.
‘So who will take the wheel?’ persisted Jobey.
‘You will,’ Skeet informed him. ‘Pickle, Chips and Waff are to man the yards.’
‘Great!’ muttered Jobey, ‘I suppose when we end up half way up a tree in the jungle it’ll all be my fault.’
‘Correct!’ confirmed his shipmates.
‘Where is my assistance required?’ demanded Doc.
Skeet suspected Misty was more likely to operate smoothly if the owl retired to his cabin.
‘Your night vision is good. You can stand at the bow as a lookout,’ he suggested.
‘Aye aye Sir,’ responded Doc smartly, and started to scramble for’ard.
‘Not now Doc! I’ll tell you when,’ said Skeet with a sigh.
‘And not before we put a line round you before you fall overboard,’ added Pickle.
‘Have you any orders for me?’ asked Sassy.
‘Yes I have,’ replied Skeet firmly. ‘Tam has prepared Thom’s bunk for you for the time being, and it’s time for you to use it.’
‘But I’m not tired!’
‘If you’re going to be a sailor you must learn to sleep when you have the opportunity.’
‘Skeet’s right,’ confirmed Jobey. ‘You watch Pickle – he’s a good example of that.’
The wind fell lighter as the twilight dimmed and Misty glided silently into the night. At midnight, Capt. Albern gave the order to alter course inshore, and Doc was secured to a line despite his protests. Tam commenced swinging the lead line, calling off the reading to Skeet, who hurried down the companionway to relay it to his skipper. Pickle, Chips and Waff stood at the ready among coils of running rigging awaiting orders, and Jobey concentrated on the compass, determined the needle would not waver a single degree from their course.
For three hours the crew worked tensely as Tam called off the depth. Sometimes the shore shelved more deeply and sometimes the water shoaled, and on each occasion Misty nudged closer inshore or veered away to sea as she felt her way through the dark. Tethered alone at the bow, Doc stared unblinkingly. He reflected that his task would be easier had not cloud obscured the moon. Even so he sensed the darker black of the forest slipping close by. He strained to catch the slightest sound, but all he could hear was the splash of the lead line and the occasional slap of a wavelet on Misty’s hull.
Capt. Albern took a last look at the chart and climbed the companionway. ‘We’re nearly there,’ he informed Skeet. ‘There’s a shallow spit just short of the entrance which we should be able to creep over. As soon as it deepens, we turn in. I’ll take her now,’ he said to Jobey, ‘and well done.’
Jobey breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be relieved of the responsibility. He suddenly felt very tired and his legs wobbled as he made his way for’ard to help Skeet prepare the anchor.
‘Three fathoms,’ called Tam. Misty held her course.
‘Two and shallowing!’ he shouted.
‘One!’ he yelled urgently.
For what seemed an interminable time Misty crept on while the crew held their breath, dreading the lurch of the ship grounding.
‘Two fathoms,’ called Tam with relief. Capt. Albern allowed himself the flicker of a smile and turned his ship towards the shore.
‘Trees!’ squawked Doc in a panic.
‘To port or starboard?’ demanded Skeet, rushing to his side. Doc pointed into the inky black.
‘Over there!’
‘Land on the port bow,’ called Skeet. Misty edged away.
‘Now over there!’ shouted Doc, stumbling across the deck and tripping over his lifeline.
‘Land to starboard,’ called Skeet.
Misty straightened up and ghosted into the creek, her crew peering into the dark on either side. Capt. Albern counted three minutes and gave the order to let go the anchor. It hit the water with a splash, the rattle of chain shattering the silence of the night. The sails furled and the ship made tidy, the crew gathered at the galley where The Cook handed out generous portions of soup.
‘How about an extra ladle for those of us who did all the work?’ suggested Pickle, nudging Chips and Waff, and with a sly glance at Jobey.
‘I assume you’re referring to Tam,’ said Skeet.
‘Tam as well as Chips, Waff and me.’
Tam rubbed his aching arm. ‘Doc did his bit too. Where is he?’
‘Come and get your soup, Doc,’ called Skeet.
‘Will someone please come and untie me,’ came an exasperated voice from the bow. To everyone’s surprise, Jobey put down his bowl and disappeared for’ard to release their disgruntled lookout.
‘I reckon that’s the hardest thing you’ve done all night – leaning on that wheel watching us labour,’ persisted Pickle. Jobey did not rise to the bait.
‘It may interest you to know,’ he replied, ‘that the skipper said I did all right.’ He then thanked The Cook for the very nice soup and fell asleep where he sat.
Tam and Skeet leaned on the rail while the crew made for their bunks.
‘That was a fine piece of navigation. I’d be mighty pleased with myself if I was the skipper,’ said Skeet with a yawn.
Tam stared into the dark. ‘I’m glad he took the risk,’ he said. ‘I reckon they’ll be here by morning – Thom’s not far away.’