The result was, that while they gave
great way to the vessel, they finally broke the line.
I was leaning on the wheel, with Smudge near me, when this accident
occurred. The tide was still running ebb, and with some strength; and
the ship was just entering the narrow passage between the island and
the point that formed one termination of the bay, heading, of course,
toward the tree to which the warp had been secured. It was an
impulsive feeling, rather than any reason, that made me give the
vessel a sheer with the helm, so as to send her directly through the
passage, instead of letting her strike the rocks. I had no eventual
hope in so doing, nor any other motive than the strong reluctance I
felt to have the good craft hit the bottom. Luckily, the Dipper was in
the canoes, and it was not an easy matter to follow the ship, under
the fire from her cabin-windows, had he understood the case, and been
disposed to do so. But, like all the rest in the canoes, he was busy
with his wounded friends, who were all carried off towards the
creek. This left me master of the ship's movements for five minutes,
and by that time she had drawn through the passage, and was actually
shooting out into the open ocean.
This was a novel, and in some respects an embarrassing situation. It
left a gleam of hope, but it was a hope without a direction, and
almost without an object.
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