Kestrel

“ The while the Kestrel was underlying in the game of “chasing her own tail.” Absolutely drifting in a dead calm, she was powerless to answer to her helm. Her bows swung round very slowly through every point of the compass and continued to do so. Yet the while, judging by the drag of the lead-line when allowed to remain in the bottom, she was being swept in an easterly direction by the two-knot tide. Well away to the south’ard came an almost continual braying of many sirens. ”

“ Somewhat mystified, Peter rolled out of his bunk and went on deck. To his surprise a thick fog enveloped everything. From the companion ladder it was only just possible to discern the lower part of the mizzen-mast looking grotesquely distorted in the watery haze. An uncanny silence prevailed. No sounds came from the near-by town. Then the distant wail of a syren came through the mist.
According to the state of the tide, the Kestrel should be riding to the last of the ebb. How came it then that the dinghy, instead of straining at her painter, was rubbing alongside the yacht’s quarter? ”

“ The sight of the Kestrel acted like a red rag to a mad bull as far as Blueskin Bone was concerned. The mere knowledge that had it not been for “them Sea Scoutses” he might have become the owner of the craft never ceased to anger him. Even when, acting upon the idea that Polkebo was getting too hot for him, he had shipped aboard the S.S. Lumberjack his resentment did not die down; it merely smouldered, to be revived to white heat when, quite unexpectedly, the Kestrel came in with the flood tide from the boisterous waters of the English Channel. ”

“ The name kestrel, says Singer, [252] for an inferior kind of hawk, was evidently a corruption of the French quercelle or quercerelle, and originally had no connection with coystril, though in later times they may have been confounded. Holinshed [253] classes coisterels [131] with lackeys and women, the unwarlike attendants on an army. The term was also given as a nickname to the emissaries employed by the kings of England in their French wars. Dyce [254] also considers kestrel distinct from coistrel. ”

“ The Kestrel, owing to her rig and generous amount of deadwood fore and aft, was hopelessly out of it against the performance of most of her competitors in the thrash to wind’ard. She could only hold on gamely. Even the Bristol boat was afloat once more and was tearing along in grand style. Astern a Dover yacht was in difficulties with a torn jib; while a Newhaven yawl and a Grimsby cutter, both under-canvassed, were indulging in a ding-dong race on their own account. ”

“ Even then the Kestrel maintained a fair speed and rode the waves like a cork, with the dinghy’s bows high in the air as she strained at the end of a double length of stout 50-feet rope.
“Isn’t this top-hole, sir?” exclaimed Peter enthusiastically. “I’d rather be in the Kestrel than in that tramp which passed us some time ago.”
Before the Scoutmaster could offer any remark Brandon came out of the cabin.
“The man has come to,” he announced oracularly.
“How does he feel? Did he say?” asked Mr. Grant.
“Said he was thirsty, sir.”
Telling Craddock to take the helm, Mr. Grant went below. ”

“ On the fore-deck of the Kestrel, Heavitree lay motionless, keeping well down to minimise wind-resistance. The rest of the crew stationed aft were as silent and immobile as statues. They realised that the race was not a game. It was something that required every effort of mind and body on the part of each member of the crew. Even to move about unnecessarily might mean the loss of the race, for even in a craft of the size of the Kestrel it would be adversely sensitive to the alteration of “trim” should any of the crew begin “jumping about.” ”

“ She had it all to herself, for the bunch of four were already on the homeward run, while the remaining two competitors were well astern.
“Stand by!” cautioned Mr. Grant. “Ready with the spinnaker!”
Moving as softly as cats, Carline and Heavitree prepared the halliards and out-haul of the spinnaker. Round swept the Kestrel, making the mark buoy curtsey in her wash. Over flew the boom in a deliberate gybe.
“Up spinnaker!” ordered the Scoutmaster.
In double quick time the huge but light triangular sail was set and sheeted home. Now the Kestrel was at her best. Running was her strong point. ”

“ The Convict If, on leaving Lymington River, the Kestrel hadn’t run on the mud; if the tide had not changed and the wind fallen light; and if the Merlin had not run out of petrol: then the Sea Scouts might have found themselves at the rendezvous for the Jamboree at eight o’clock that evening.
It was a combination of adverse circumstances. Running the Kestrel aground was excusable but hardly avoidable. Many a yachtsman with local knowledge has done much the same, for the beacons, instead of marking the edge of the channel, are some distance away from it and well up on the mud. ”

“ But when it comes tu goin’ about like in the Range, that there bucket’ll make ’em miss stays. They’ll be fair on the rocks afore they knows where they be.”
There was deep cunning in Carlo Bone’s plan. He counted upon the Kestrel getting under way with a fair wind and a fair tide. The crew would not be likely to notice that they were towing a bucket under the stern, although the drag would be considerable. But in the Narrows, at the entrance to the harbour, the baffling wind and the set of the tidal current would compel the Kestrel to attempt at least one tack. ”

“ You’re a smart fellow!” exclaimed the other, with frank admiration.
“Not at all,” protested Craddock. “You see, I had exactly the same trouble once on board our old boat, the Puffin, and I had to get another fellow to put it right.”
“ ’Tany rate, you’ve done a very Good Turn,” declared Mr. Pendennis. “We’ll try and return it by giving the Kestrel a tow. I don’t say that we’ll succeed against this tide, but we’ll have a good shot at it.”
The Falmouth Scoutmaster hailed the Kestrel.
“I say, Grant!” he exclaimed. “We’re going to give you a tow. Do you know your way in? ”

“ There’s the East Blackstone”—pointing to an isolated rock about half a mile away. “I’ll tow you inside the rock. There’s plenty of water and less tide running. You’re early yet for the up-Channel stream, but with the breeze you’ll stem the tide all right.”
At the East Blackstone the tow-rope was cast off. Mr. Grant regained the Kestrel, and the crew gave a hearty cheer for the benefit of the ex-Scoutmaster. Sail was quickly made, and under all plain canvas the Kestrel was steadied on her course for Portland Bill. ”

“ Even a stunned man under water would be expelling air from his lungs and the bubbles would show on the surface. The difficulty was that already the yacht had covered fifty or more yards since the time the accident had occurred, and in consequence it was futile to attempt to dive after the lad. And yet it was agonising having to stand and watch and yet do nothing.
The Kestrel was now hove-to on to the port tack, her head-sheets, which had not been eased, being taut to wind’ard. The folds of the spinnaker hung idly over the starboard side between the shrouds and the forestay. ”

“ Fog, he knew, plays strange tricks with sound. Frequently there are zones of silence over which sounds leap to be distinctly audible at a long distance beyond the source of emission. All he knew concerning the Kestrel’s position was that she was drifting slowly in a south-easterly direction, but that on the turn of the Channel tide—which by no means coincided with the time of high and low water on the shore—the yacht would be swept in the reverse direction and possibly be driven aground on the dangerous coast between the Lizard and the Manacles. ”

“ Bodily tired though he was, Peter simply could not sleep. He lay thinking and thinking—which is a jolly bad symptom in a healthy youth. He was puzzling his brains to decide upon a suitable name for the Kestrel’s mascot.
Presently he realised that fine rain was falling on the tarpaulin placed over the uncompleted cabin-top. It was a strange sort of rain—falling intermittently. It smelt strange, too.
“Petrol!” thought the lad.
He sniffed suspiciously. This surmise was confirmed. The interior of the cabin was reeking with the fumes of that highly inflammable spirit. ”

“ So they’re taking a rise out of us.”
“Stop arguing!” exclaimed Brandon. “Don’t go hanging on to the slack, but get your breakfasts. The sooner we get under way the better.”
By the time the meal had been dispatched and everything below made ship-shape the tide had slackened. There was a light southerly breeze which would enable the Kestrel to romp full and bye up the Solent, and, unless the wind changed in direction, would take her to Chichester Bar without having to tack. ”

“ Grant encouragingly. “To-morrow if it’s fine we’ll polish off that cabin-top. We ought to have the masts stepped, and the standing rigging set up by the end of the week. That reminds me: Scoutmaster Pendennis is taking a patrol to the Jamboree in the Merlin. We’ll be cruising in company unless the Merlin is too smart for us. I hope our craft will prove to be fairly fast—enough to keep up with her. Talking about names: we haven’t given our boat a name yet.”
“How would Kestrel do, sir?” suggested Brandon. “A merlin is a sort of hawk, and so is a kestrel.” ”

“ A vision of the Kestrel with her youthful crew flashed across his mind. So far all was going well. The sea was calm, the weather fine. Brandon knew the course, but would he be able to take the yacht into port?
“I’ll go on deck now,” he declared.
“No, you won’t, sir,” countered Craddock firmly. “You aren’t fit to go. Wait till we’ve done something to that hand of yours. You’ll only make it worse if you bang it against something. I’ll dress it for you. Does it hurt much?”
“A little,” admitted Mr. Grant deprecatingly, for the pain was now intense. ”

“ The Kestrel was now so steady that Heavitree had no difficulty in lighting the stove. In about ten minutes his tousled head appeared, framed in the companion.
“Cocoa’s ready, sir,” he announced, “and all the others are awake and want cocoa too.”
“You want me, sir?” asked Brandon, as he edged past Heavitree in the companion.
“Yes, please,” replied Mr. Grant. “Have your cocoa and a biscuit first, then tell the others to get their breakfasts when they’re dressed. We don’t want too many on deck, if we’ve to tack in. And, while you are about it, you might hand me the chart of Dartmouth Harbour.” ”

“ The Kestrel was still a good two hundred yards from it. Four other boats, bunched together, were bearing down on the port tack for the turning-point.
As luck would have it the second boat’s bowsprit was almost level with the leader’s counter as they prepared to go about at the mark buoy. This is what is termed “establishing an overlap,” and the second craft has the right to hail the other to give her more room. If, however, there is no overlap the leading craft can carry on, leaving the other to get out of her way and pass outside her. ”

“ There should be a conical buoy on our port bow about a couple of miles off.”
“I see it, sir!” exclaimed Heavitree almost at once. “It’s dead on with our bowsprit-end.”
“Is it, by Jove!” ejaculated Mr. Grant. “Up helm, Peter! At that! We’re closer in than I thought. We might have piled the Kestrel on The Skerries. See those houses just under The Start? That’s Beesands, or what’s left of it. Most of the village was washed away in a gale. The fishermen there train dogs to swim out to the returning boats and swim back with a line. It takes some doing in a rough sea. We’re in smoother water now. ”

“ In a light air or calm there is no ascending current, or it is imperceptible and of no use to the kestrel. Such currents, when they do exist, are very local; but the kestrel's hover is not local: he can hover anywhere. He can do it in the face of a stiff gale, and in a perfect calm. The only weather he dislikes is heavy thunder, rain, or hail, during which he generally perches on a tree ”

“ Five minutes later the still considerably scared survivors of the sunken boat were transhipped to the passenger craft, and the Kestrel, running before the wind, resumed her attempt to overhaul the far-distant Merlin.
By this time Mr. Grant had recovered his customary even temper.
“After all, perhaps the silly ass couldn’t help being in a fearful funk,” he remarked. “When all’s said and done, bravery largely consists of being afraid of being afraid. . . . What’s that, Wilson? They’ve made the saloon slopping wet? Well, mop it up. That’ll be another Good Turn to your credit.” ”

“ Then Craddock began to be interested, too. And for a very good reason: the basket was not drifting with the tide. It was moving decidedly against it and slowly yet surely approaching the Kestrel’s bows.
“Come on deck, old man,” said Peter to his chum, in a low voice; but Heavitree, who had resumed his absorbing pastime, either did not hear or did not want to.
Presently the basket disappeared from Peter’s range of vision. From where he was standing in the cockpit he could not see the surface of the water in the vicinity of the yacht’s bows. ”

“ When we were together we went back naturally, I think, with one accord to our little altercations about the names and manners of beasts and birds; it was on such little things that the first good beginning of our friendship had been built. It set me at my ease that day.
"It's a kestrel, not a sparrow-hawk," said Harrod. "It's a pity keepers ever mistake them. The kestrels are useful birds. They kill mice. ”

“ Very soon the crew of the Kestrel were deep in slumber. They did not turn out till late in the forenoon for two reasons. They wanted to arrive at Chichester Harbour “as fresh as paint”; it was practically useless to attempt to set sail until the west-going tide eased considerably. By this time the Aberstour Sea Scouts had learnt to respect the fierce tides of the Solent.
When the lads did turn out, Brandon went on deck to haul down the riding-light. Then, to his surprise, he discovered that the Merlin was nowhere to be seen. ”