CHAPTER III.
AN OCEAN DERELICT.
"What's that object off on the starboard bow, sir?"
It was a week after the events narrated in the preceding chapters, andthe _Seneca_, a converted gun-boat fitted with torpedo tubes for thedestruction of derelicts, was plowing her way southward through an azuresea under a cloudless sky.
Rob Blake asked the question. In full Boy Scout Leader's uniform, andwearing the different badges to which he was entitled, the young chiefof the Eagles stood on the _Seneca's_ bridge with Ensign Hargreaves andLieutenant Murray, who were in command of the destroyer.
"Jove, lad, you have sharp eyes!" exclaimed Lieutenant Murray. "Even thelookout has not yet spied it. Let's see what it may be. Possibly it'sour 'meat'--food for our torpedoes."
"In that case the boys are in for a bit of excitement," said EnsignHargreaves.
"You think it is a derelict!" exclaimed Rob. "Oh, boys!" he called downto the shady deck below, where the other lads lay reading or writingletters or studying the Scout Manual, "we've sighted a derelict."
"An ocean hobo, eh?" hailed back Merritt.
"Hold on! Hold on! Not so fast!" laughed Lieutenant Murray.
He took his powerful naval binoculars from their case and carefullyfocussed them on the dot which Rob's sharp eyes had espied at so great adistance.
"You are right, Master Rob," he exclaimed the next instant; "it _is_ aderelict, and a big one, too."
"And you are going to blow it up?" asked Rob, his voice quivering withexcitement.
"That's our business, lad."
"Hooray! Boys, stand by for the fireworks!" shouted the delighted Rob.
The Boy Scouts, who had pretty well the run of the ship and were favoredalike by officers and men, came swarming upon the bridge. LieutenantMurray was adjusting the range finders and directing the quartermasterat the wheel to change his course so as to bear down on the driftinghulk. As they drew closer to the dismantled derelict they saw that, asLieutenant Murray had declared, she had been a large vessel. Stumps ofthree masts rose from her decks above the broken bulwarks. Ends ofbleached and frayed-out shrouds hung from her fore, main, and mizzenchains. From the look of her, she had been a considerable time adrift.
As she rolled slowly on the gentle swell they could see that herunderbody was green with seaweed and slime, the accumulation of years.Amidships stood a small deck house, and at the bow a broken bowspritpointed heavenward as if invoking mercy on her forlorn condition.
"Why, she might have been drifting about since the time of Noah, tojudge by her looks," exclaimed Merritt, gazing at the odd sight.
"I have heard of derelicts that have followed the ocean currents forfifty years and more," declared the Lieutenant. "This craft looks as ifshe might date back that far. Certainly she has been a long time adrift.Sailors sometimes become panic-stricken and leave their ships when thereis no real necessity for so doing. A case in point is that of CaptainLarsen of the _Two Sisters_, which sailed from Bath, Maine, for a WestIndian port. She was abandoned in a hurry after a hurricane, and thecaptain and crew took to the boats. After drifting for weeks--they hadhad time to provision the boats well--they arrived in Kingston, Jamaica,and the first sight that greeted the captain's eyes was the hulk of the_Two Sisters_. She had drifted close to the island and had been towedin, arriving ahead of the crew that had forsaken her!"
"Hark!" cried Merritt, while they were still commenting on theLieutenant's story, "what was that?"
"Sounded like a bell tolling," exclaimed Rob.
"It is a bell!" cried Merritt.
Sure enough, borne over the gently heaving water, there came to theirears the melancholy ding-dong of a deep-toned bell. Coming as it didfrom the abandoned sea-riven hulk it cast a gloom over them.
"Who can be ringing it?" cried Tubby, in what was for him, anawe-stricken voice.
"No mystery about it, I guess," said Lieutenant Murray; "it is theship's bell, and as the craft rolls it is ringing a requiem for thedead."
"Ugh! It gives me the shudders!" exclaimed Hiram.
"It's not a cheerful sound certainly," agreed Rob.
"Bom-boom; bom-boom," chimed the bell, waxing now faint, now loud, asthe wind rose and fell.
"I'd like to go aboard that boat and explore her," declared Merritt.
"That's an opportunity you shall have," said the Lieutenant. "It is ourrule to explore all such derelicts for a hint as to the fate of theircrew before we consign them to the deep."
Orders were given to check the speed of the _Seneca_ and to prepare tolower a boat.
"Are we to go?" chorused the Scouts eagerly.
"Of course. Mr. Hargreaves will accompany you."
"Aren't you going?" asked Rob.
"No. It's an old story with me. While we are waiting for you, I willwork out our position, which must go in with my report of the derelict'sdestruction."
Five minutes later, in one of the _Seneca's_ whale boats, the boys wereskimming over the sea toward the melancholy old derelict. As they glidedalong, the bell kept up its monotonous booming with the regularity of ashore bell summoning worshippers to church.
As the whaleboat was pulled around the derelict's stern they could see aname painted on the square counter, surrounded with many a scroll andflourish in the antique manner. These flourishes had once been gildedand painted, but the gilt and color had long since worn off them.
"_Good Hope of Portland, Me._," read out Rob. "What a contrast betweenher name and her fate!"
"Bom-boom," tolled the bell as if in answer to him.
"She must have been one of those old-time clippers that sailed round theHorn with Yankee notions for the Spice Islands and China, and came backwith tea and other Oriental goods," opined Ensign Hargreaves.
"She was a fine ship in her day, sir," ventured the old quartermasterwho pulled stroke oar.
"Aye, aye, Tarbox; in those days the American mercantile marine was athing to be proud of," agreed the ensign. "To-day not one-tenth of thecraft that used to fly the Stars and Stripes remain afloat. They havevanished and their keels sweep the sea no more."
By this time they had arrived below the derelict's port main chains.From these several bleached ropes hung down, but all proved too rottento support the weight of a Boy Scout, let alone a man. But by goodfortune a chain, rusty, but still strong seemingly, depended from thebows of the old craft. This withstood a test, and, led by EnsignHargreaves, the boys clambered on deck. Quartermaster Tarbox and thefour sailors who had manned the oars were left in the boat.
The boys' hearts beat a little faster as they stood on the forecastle ofthe abandoned _Good Hope_. Nor was this caused by the exertion of theclimb altogether. There was something uncanny in standing upon thatlong-untrodden deck, while right below the break in the forecastle thebell kept up its doomsday-like tolling.
The ensign's first task was to make fast a lanyard to the clapper of thedismal thing, and thereafter their nerves felt steadier. With the dyingout of the clamor of the bell, a death-like hush fell over the abandonedship. Only the rippling complaint of the water as she rolled to and frobroke the stillness. The boys actually found themselves talking inwhispers under the spell that hung above the decks of the ill-fated_Good Hope_.
"Let us explore that deck house first," said Ensign Hargreaves, and,followed by the boys, he started for the small structure which stoodjust aft of the wreck of the foremast.
Little dreaming of the surprise that awaited them within, the boysfollowed, on tip-toe with curiosity and excitement.
Boy Scouts for Uncle Sam Page 3