Boy Scouts for Uncle Sam
Page 4
CHAPTER IV.
A MYSTERY OF THE SEA.
The door of the deck house was closed. But the ensign opened it withoutdifficulty, and with the boys pressing close on his heels he entered theplace.
Hardly had he done so before he fell back with a sharp exclamation. Thenext instant the boys echoed his interjection with a tone in whichhorror mingled with surprise. Seated at a table in the cabin was what atfirst appeared to be a man. But a second glance showed that, in reality,the figure was a grim skeleton upheld by its posture and still bearingmildewed and mouldy sea clothes.
"What a dreadful sight!" cried Rob, shivering, although the day washot.
"Poor fellow!" exclaimed the naval officer. "He must have perished justas he sat. See, there is a paper under his hand, and there lies the penwith which he had been writing."
He stepped forward to make a further examination, and the boys,mastering their instinctive dread of the uncanny scene, also approachedthe table.
The writing beneath the dead man's hand was on a fragment of paper,yellowed with age and covered with scrawlings grown brown from the samecause. Mastering his repugnance, the ensign took the paper from underthe skeleton's fingers that still rested upon it.
"What is it?" demanded Rob.
"Look at it for yourself," returned the officer after scrutinizing thedocument.
Thus addressed, Rob took the mouldy screed while his chums looked overhis shoulder curiously.
"Why, it's nothing but a mass of figures," he exclaimed.
"That is certainly so. Some sort of cipher, I suppose," struck inMerritt.
"That's what it is, I imagine," agreed the ensign; "but see this crossmarked in red ink in the midst of the figures! What can that be intendedfor?"
"If you don't mind, I'll try to figure this out sometime," said Rob."I'm rather fond of working cryptograms and such things. It will serveto pass the time, too, when we reach the Island."
"That is perfectly agreeable to me," returned the officer. "If you canmake anything of it, it may serve to solve the mystery of this ship. Forthat a mystery there is about the whole thing, I feel certain."
"It does seem uncanny, somehow," agreed Rob; "the posture of this man,this strange writing! I wonder how he died?"
"Impossible to say," rejoined the officer; "but let us investigatefurther. We may make some more discoveries."
"I hope we don't make any more finds of this character," rejoined Robwith deep feeling.
Reverently and quietly they made their way out of the presence of thedead mariner.
Their next objective point was the poop of the vessel, where a high,old-fashioned quarter-deck upreared itself above the main deck. Portholes looked out from this, and the party of explorers rightly judgedthat here had been the living-quarters of the ship's officers. A door ofheavily carved mahogany gave access to the space below the loftypoop-deck. Pressing through this, they found themselves in a dark,dingy-looking cuddy. The cushions of the lockers, which ranged alongeach side, were green with mould and in the air hung the odor of decay.
A skylight above gave light to this chamber, and at its sides fourdoors, two to a side, opened off.
"Those doors must lead to the staterooms of the former officers,"declared the ensign, and a tour of inspection of the rooms was begun atonce. In the first three, after a thorough ransacking nothing moreinteresting was to be found than some old sea chests, containinggarments and nautical instruments of antique pattern. In the last,however, which bore traces of having been better furnished than theothers, there hung a crudely painted picture of a grizzled-lookingseaman, on whose breast hung conspicuously a gold image of a whale.Apparently this was some sort of an emblem. But to Rob the portraitpresented a clew.
"Why, that same emblem hung on the uniform of the dead man in thedeckhouse!" he exclaimed.
"So it did," cried the ensign. "Boys, from the looks of it, this was thecabin of the master of the ship, and yonder body, it is my firm belief,is his."
But Merritt had stumbled upon another discovery. This was nothing morethan a large book, bound in leather. But to the ensign it seemed to beapparently a highly important find.
"It's the ship's log-book," he exclaimed, pointing to the embossed wordson the cover. "Now perhaps we may light on a partial solution of thismystery."
He opened the book at the first page, and learned from the crabbedwriting with which it was covered, that the _Good Hope_, Ezekial T.Daniels, master, had set sail from New Bedford for the South Pacificwhaling ground in April, 1879.
"Gracious, that was about thirty-three years ago," stammered Merritt.
"I have heard of derelicts that drifted longer than that," said thenaval officer calmly.
He began turning over the leaves of the log book. It was an epic of thesea. Every incident that had befallen the _Good Hope_ on her long voyagewas faithfully set down. He skimmed through the records, reading themost interesting bits of information out aloud for the benefit of hisyouthful companions.
From the log book it was learned that the _Good Hope_ had met withindifferent luck on her long three years' cruise, but had suddenly runinto a most extraordinary bit of good fortune.
"Listen to this, boys," exclaimed the ensign with what, for one of hisself-contained nature, was strong excitement, "it reads like a bit ofwild romance."
Without further preface he began reading:
"'May, 1883--This day encountered the strangest thing in all myexperience. As set down, we have drifted into the Antarctic ice pack.This day sighted a berg within which was a dark, shadowy object. Ongoing in the ship boats to investigate we saw to our amazement that thesaid object was a ship. The ice surrounding it was thin, mostly havingmelted.
"'From what I knew of such craft I decided, incredible as the ideamight seem, that the craft within the berg was a long frozen up Vikingship. Not knowing just what her recovery might mean, I undertook toblast her free of her prison. We had plenty of dynamite on board for thevery purpose of ice-blasting. By three of this p. m. we had the shipblasted open. I and my officers at once entered the hole the explosivehad made in the craft's side. We expected to find strange things, butnone of us was prepared for what followed. The hold of the imprisonedship was full of ivory.
"'My first officer, William Clydesdale, an Englishman, and a college manbefore strong drink ruined him, pronounced the ivory to be that of thetusks of the extinct mammoths which scientists say formerly inhabitedthese regions.'"
"Phew! This is romance with a vengeance!" exclaimed Rob.
"Did they get the ivory?" asked the practical Paul Perkins.
"Yes," rejoined the officer, rapidly skimming over the further pages ofthe log, "and they estimated the stuff roughly at about five hundredthousand dollars' worth of exceptional quality."
"How did the ship get frozen in the ice?" asked Hiram. "The Viking ship,I mean."
"Who can tell," returned the ensign. "I have heard of such things at theNorth Pole. Several explorers have even brought back fragments of theNorseman's lost craft; but I never heard of such an occurrencetranspiring in the Antarctic regions. But let's read on."
The log continued to tell of hardships encountered in beating backaround the Horn with the valuable cargo; of discontent of the crew; oftheir constant demand to have the hoard divided equally among theofficers and men, and of the captain's refusal to accede to theirrequests. Finally the entries began to grow short and disconnected, asif whoever was writing up the log was on constant watch and had littletime to spare. Indeed, one entry read:
"Mutiny threatens constantly. The men mean to seize the ivory and taketo the boats."
Following that no entries were made for several days. Then came astartling announcement, both in its brevity and suggestiveness oftragedy.