CHAPTER VIII.
A BOY SCOUT SIGNAL.
It was five minutes later that the whole company of castaways wasgathered around the hatchway. A red glare from below shone on theirfaces, illuminating expressions of dismay and apprehension.
"What can we do?" gasped out Rob. "There are no boats, no means ofescape!"
"We'll be burned to death," shuddered Paul Perkins.
All looked to the ensign for some suggestion. His tightly compressedlips and drawn features suggested that he was thinking deeply, thinkingas men think whose very lives depend upon quick decision.
"We must put on the hatches," he said decisively; "there they lieyonder. That will deprive the fire of oxygen and give us at least a fewhours before we have to vacate."
The coverings of the hatch, big, thick planks, lay not far away.Evidently they lay just as they did on the day that the cargo of mammothtusks had been taken from the _Good Hope_ and hidden. Working withfeverish energy, the boys soon had the hatch covered tightly. But thework had almost exhausted their strength. The fumes of the blazing holdand the suffocating black smoke that rolled out, had almost caused themto succumb.
Their desperate task accomplished, they lay panting on the deck,incapable, for the time being, of further effort. However, with thehatch in place and tightly dovetailed, there was a gleam of hope thatthe flames might be smothered, or at least held in check till the fogcleared and they could sight a vessel.
The first faint glimmering of dawn, shown by an increasing transparencein the fog, found the derelict still lying inert. But a second later theboys were on their feet with a cheer. A light breeze had sprung up andthe fog was agitated by it like drifting steam. Little by little thebreeze increased and the fog thinned out to mere wisps. The sun shonethrough and disclosed a glimmering expanse of sea stretched all about.But, to their bitter disappointment, the great heaving expanse was emptyof life. Not a sail or a sign of a steamer marred its lonely surface.
They exchanged dismayed looks. There was no knowing at what moment thefiery, seething furnace beneath their very feet might break through andforce them to fight for their existence.
Already the decks were hot. Aside from this, however, so well did thehatch fit that not even a wisp of smoke escaped. Except the extremeheat, there was nothing to indicate that the interior of the _GoodHope's_ hull was a fiery furnace.
The hours wore on, the little company of castaways dreading every momentthat what they feared might happen. Still no indication that the firewas about to break through occurred. But their sufferings from thirstwere terrible. One after another the Boy Scouts sank to the decks in asort of coma. Rob, Merritt, and the ensign himself alone retained theirstrength.
"If some vessel doesn't appear before long we are doomed."
It was Rob who spoke, and the mere fact that the others were silentindicated plainly that they shared his opinion.
Despite their sufferings and anxiety a bright lookout was kept. It wasRob who electrified them by a sudden shout:
"Look! Look out there to the north!"
"A sail!" shouted the ensign, springing to his feet.
"Yes. A steam yacht, rather! She's coming this way, too!"
"That's what. But how can we signal her? If she doesn't hurry she may betoo late!"
"We can wave and shout!"
The ensign shook his head.
"She is too far off to see or hear us. Is there no other way to attracther?"
A dozen plans were thought of and discarded. Then Rob spoke:
"I've thought of a way, but it's a desperate one."
"Never mind, what is it?"
"We will signal her in Boy Scout fashion. Maybe there is someone onboard who understands it."
The others looked puzzled. Rob hastened to explain.
"You all know the smoke column system of signalling?"
"I see what you mean!" shouted Merritt. "You mean to send up twocolumns of smoke meaning 'Help! We are lost!'"
Rob nodded.
"But how is that possible?" demanded the ensign, with a puzzledinflection in his tones. "We've got a whole ship full of smoke under us,of course, but I don't see how we are going to utilize it in the way yousuggest."
"I've thought it out," declared Rob modestly.
He produced his heavy-bladed scouting knife.
"Merritt, you take your knife and we'll cut two holes in the top of thehatch. That will make two smoke columns, and if anyone on that yacht isa Scout, they will come rushing at top speed toward us!"
"Jove! You boys are resourceful, indeed!" cried the ensign admiringly.
Without more ado the boys fell to work on their task. They cut the holesabout ten feet apart. It was hard work, but they stuck to itperseveringly, and at last, from the two holes, two columns of blacksmoke spouted up. Luckily for their plans the wind had, by this time,moderated so much as to have fallen almost flat.
High into the heavens soared the two black columns of smoke like twopillars of inky vapor.
Every eye watched the distant yacht anxiously. For five minutes theanxiety was so intense that no one spoke. The pitch of expectancy waspainful.
Then came a great cry.
"They've seen our signal!" shouted Rob.
"Yes; look, she's changing her course. Look at the black smoke comingfrom her funnel. She's making top speed to our rescue!" cried Merritt.
"Let's hope that she won't be too late," murmured the ensign under hisbreath, and then aloud he cried:
"Three cheers for the Boy Scouts of the Eagle Patrol!"
Boy Scouts for Uncle Sam Page 8