Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1908-10-27
CHAPTER xXxI11-conttnued
Copyright. 1908, by ]. B. Harris-Burland.

\ CHAPTER XXXIII-Continued
| For several minutes the two men
strained and labored at the winch
land slowly moved the heavy boat away
from the shore until she lay over the
anchor, which they had carried out
thirty fathoms Stewards.
A ,ong and hard fight lay before
them. They were still seven miles
from the Black. Spit Buoy. and every
inch of that distance would have to
be fought for. 1t was no mere beat
ing against a head wind, but a battle
with the tide, which poured up the
channel like mill race. With a
smooth sea and a moderate breeze the
smack would have made light of the
job, but the heavy buffating of the
waves and the constant Eltfing, as the
violent bursts of wind almost f1attened
her down on the water, took a lot of
way off her, and she made bare fifty
yards each time she crossed the creek
from side to side
Half an hour of this contest with
the wind and waves proved enough
for Sir William Tankerlane. and he
once more collapsed in the violent
throes of sickness. He refused to go
down into the cabin, where he might
have to talk to John Shil, and his i'll
ness would give the lie to his assump-
ton Ct calling for which he was by
no means suited. He crawled to the
foot of the mast, and lay for'ard with
his arms round it, and the waves
! drenching him from head to foot, as
they broke over the bows
Wonder whether hem enioyin' it,"
said Playle with a grin. "Mebbe hem
wishin' himself back on the land"
81 don't like the look oft myself"
i Yardley replied. I'D give ten poun'
ito be round the Black Spit, and sailin'
easy UP the Darlwater, with the tide
behind US
We're creepin' up. We amt goin'
| backwards
"Ay, and twill be dark in lessn an
.hour. There's a beauty for you
/ A big wave had curled over the bow
of the boat, hidden Tankerlane from
sight in a cloud of foam. and swirled
aft torrent that buried Playle's boots
ito the ankles. When it had passed.
lTankerlane was huddled little closer
Ito the mast
| Yardley You go for'ard and get him
ion. 'Tain't good huff havin' these
folk on deck.
I Playle made his way forard to Tan
kerlane, who, in spite Of his oilskins.
twas as wet as though he had fallen
into the sea-
you get below" he shouted
/ Tain't no place for you, sir; you'll
get swept overheard, and God knows
who'll go arter you In the sea. You
come along now"
/! Tankerlane did not move but clung
ITO the mast, as a drowning man clings
to spar. Playle stopped down and
wrenched his hands apart by sheer
force. Then he lifted him up in his
arms and dragged him along the deck.
You get down there, sir" he said,
as he reached the hatchway You'll
pardon my rough ways, but we can't
have you overheard
! Tankerlane, limp and almost life
less, was lowered into the cabin.
! Playle followed him, and picking him
up from the floor. laid him on the
bunk opposite to John Shil. Then
the sailor found the whisky bottle. and
pouring out half a tumbler of raw
spirit. forced it down Tankerlane's
throat.
. Twill keep the cold out" he said.
and at once proceeded TO fortify him
self in the same manner.
For three hours Yardley remained
at the tiller, and then at last the tiny
fash of the Black "pit gas buoy
Showed through the curtain of spray.
Yet the last half hour was destined
to try the helmsman's nerve and skill
to the utmost. On no place along the
east coast of Essex does the tide pour
with such fury as on the extreme edge