One of my friends, in whose yacht I often take a cruise, had anchored his vessel in the Medway while the tide was still flowing, and proposed a pull in the dingy, for the purpose of investigating some of the innumerable creeks of that river. We pulled through several creeks, and at last rested on our oars in one, for the purpose of watching a kingfisher that was sitting on a stump and peering into the water for a passing fish. Suddenly I was startled by a shout from my friend, with an order to pull as hard as possible. I did so, though not knowing why, but soon learned the reason. There was a bar at each end of the creek, and while we had been lying on our oars, the tide had turned and was fast ebbing.
My companion had caught a glimpse of the bar at one end, and so tried the other, in hopes that it might be lower, and allow the boat to pass over. It was lower, but the keel scraped a deep groove as we crossed it, and in another five minutes it would have been impassable. Had those few minutes been lost, we should have been imprisoned in an open boat from 3.30 p.m. to 3 a.m., without a morsel of food or a drop of water on board, without any clothes except the usual sailor suit, and with a sharp N.E. breeze that quite chilled the fingers when we ceased from rowing.
Ever since that time we have been most careful of the tide, and the owner of the boat vowed that she should not leave the yacht for five minutes without some potted meat, some biscuit, a jar of water, a box of matches, and a couple of warm rugs.
In spite, however, of its adhesiveness, its colour, and its odour, the mud has one advantage. It acts as a kind of marine soap, and does really cleanse the hands thoroughly, a property which is very useful when one is out for a cruise, and the supply of fresh water on board runs short.
