Blue Jackets: The Log of the TeaserFenn, George Manville
General
Blue Jackets: The Log of the Teaser
Fenn, George Manville
Chinese -- Juvenile fiction; Sea stories
Daylight found us lying head to sea, with the tide rushing up, a
beautifully verdant country spreading out on either side, but no
habitation in sight, and our men in great glee, for it was pretty
evident that unless the junks should prove to be merchantmen, we had
come upon a little-known river, up which we had trapped the pirates, who
had been to land plunder at their nest, and were about to make their way
again to sea.
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
UP THE RIVER.
The threatening of a storm had passed away, and the sun rose upon us,
showing distant mountains of a delicious blue, and the river winding
inland broader than at its mouth, and, as far as could be seen, free of
additional entrances through which an enemy could escape to sea.
Steam was got up, the _Teaser's_ head swung round, and, after the lead
had shown great depth and a muddy bottom, we began to glide steadily up
with the tide.
Our progress was very slow, for, as you will easily understand, and must
have noted scores of times in connection with some wreck, a ship is of
immense weight, and, even if moving ever so slowly, touching a rock at
the bottom means a tremendous grinding crash, and either the vessel
fixed, perhaps without the possibility of removal, or a hole made which
will soon cause it to sink. Navigation, then, is beset with dangers for
a captain. If he is in well-known waters, matters are simple enough;
every rock will be marked upon his chart, every mile near shore will
have been sounded, and he will know to a foot or two how much water is
beneath his keel. But as soon as he ventures up some strange creek or
river, paradoxically speaking, "he is at sea." In other words, he would
be journeying haphazard, if the greatest precautions were not taken.
These precautions were soon taken, a couple of boats being sent on ahead
with a man in each taking soundings, while we had this advantage--we
were journeying with a rising tide, and the river naturally grew deeper
and deeper.
But we encountered no difficulty; we steamed on just fast enough to give
the vessel steerage way, while the boats went on, the leads were heaved,
and the result was always the same; plenty of water, and so soft and
muddy a bottom, that even if we had gone aground, all that would have
happened would have been a little delay while we waited for the tide to
lift us off.
The course of the river was so winding that we could not see far ahead.
Hence it was that a careful look-out was kept as we rounded each bend,
expecting at every turn to see a kind of port to which the piratical
junks resorted, and with a village, if not a town, upon the shore. But
we went on and on without success, the river, if anything, growing
wider, till all at once, as we were slowly gliding round a bend, leaving
a thick track of black smoke in the misty morning air, one of the men in
the top hailed the deck.
"Sail ho, sir!"
"Where away?"
"Dead astarn, sir!"
"What?"
"Dead astarn, sir!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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