Boy With the U. S. Life-Savers

by William Henry Giles Kingston

  CHAPTER X

  ADRIFT ON A DERELICT

  "Looks to me as though we're going to have a ripsnorter for Christmas,"said Eric to his friend, Homer, the day before the festive season. "Ifthe sea gets much higher, Cookie won't have to stir the plum duff atall!"

  "How's that?"

  "All he's got to do is to leave the raisins and the flour and thecurrants and whatever else goes into the duff lying loose on a table.The old lady is kicking loose enough to mix it up all right. Doesn't shepitch!"

  "Great cook you'd make," laughed the other. "I'm glad we don't have tomess from your galley. But you're right about the weather. It's allright to go hunting for derelicts, but I don't know how the deuceanybody can be expected to find one in a sea like this!"

  "We might hit her," suggested Eric, cheerfully.

  "You're a hopeful prophet, you are," retorted his chum. "I'm not achingto feed the fishes yet awhile."

  "Well, we might bump, just the same. Then the _Seminole_ would have achance to hunt us as a derelict, and Van Sluyd--he's on her now, youknow--would have the time of his young life."

  "I don't think you need to worry about sending a message to Van Sluydyet awhile," the other answered; "after all, the _Miami_ is still abovewater."

  "She is, once in a while," Eric commented, as the cutter "took it green"and the water came flooding down the deck. Homer, seeing the wavecoming, scuttled for the companion hatchway and went below.

  As Eric had said, it seemed difficult to try to locate a derelict in ahalf a gale of wind. Yet, so dangerous to navigation was the floatingwreck which the _Miami_ was seeking, that the risk was worth taking.When he remembered what the lieutenant of the _Bear_ had said to himonce about derelicts, he realized the terrible importance of the quest.

  "Every year," he had said, "hundreds of vessels, both sail and steam,leave their home ports for foreign shores, or start from foreign portsfor home. The day of the expected arrival comes and goes, two or threedays drag by, and still there is no sign of them. Anxious relatives andfriends besiege the shipping offices daily for word, and no word comes.When suspense has passed into assured disaster, the underwritersinscribe against that vessel's name the one word, "Missing!" An averageof a vessel a day is the toll of the Seven Seas upon the world'sshipping. And the principal cause is--derelicts."

  As the _Miami_ plowed her way through the water, dipping her nose intothe waves raised by a stiff southeaster, Eric thought of the suddennessof the catastrophe if the Coast Guard cutter, in the darkness, shouldstrike one of those abandoned hulks, floating almost level with thewater, and scarcely visible from the vessel's decks.

  It was a night calculated to shake the nerve of a youngster who knewthat this deadly menace to the life of every one on board might besuddenly lurking in the trough of any one of the waves, that cameshouldering their vengeful resentment against the sturdy little vesselthat defied them. They had nourished their grudge against Man, theviolator of their ancient domain, over a thousand leagues of sea, forthe _Miami_ was a hundred miles to the eastward of the Lookout Shoal,though westward of the limit of the Gulf Stream. The billows thus had astretch of unbroken ocean from the frozen continent of Antarctica. Ofthis they made full use, and staunch little vessel though the cutterwas, she was making bad weather of it.

  The fog was dense and the gale whipped the spray into a blinding sheet.This was varied by squalls of sleet and hail and for three hours ablinding snowstorm added to the general discomfort. Less than thirtymiles to the eastward lay the Gulf Stream, where the water was over 70deg. and where no snow could ever be, but that gave the crew of the_Miami_ little comfort.

  It was not a coast on which vigilance could be relaxed, and Eric wasglad when the search for the _Madeleine Cooney_ was abandoned for awhile. It was time, too, for the _Miami_ had all she could do to takecare of herself. The Coast Guard vessel was midway between the FryingPan and the Lookout Shoals, two of the most famous danger points on theAtlantic coast, and the wind had risen to a living gale. The firstlieutenant was on the bridge a great deal of the time. For forty-eighthours there had been absolutely no sign of the sun or any star. Therewas no way to determine the vessel's position except by deadreckoning--always a dangerous thing to trust when there is much leewayand many cross-currents. The lead was going steadily, heaved every fewminutes, while the _Miami_ crept along cautiously under the guidance ofthat ancient safeguard of the mariner.

  It was the evening of the second day after the worst part of the blowstarted that the _Miami_ dropped her anchor in eight fathoms of wateroff the North Carolina coast. Steam was kept full up, although theposition of the cutter in the lee of a point of land precluded theimmediate possibility of her dragging her anchors.

  Almost exactly at noon the next day, the wireless operator intercepted amessage from the Norfolk Navy Yard that the steamer _Northwestern_ wasanchored 55 miles southwest of Lookout Shoals, with her propeller gone.As this position, pricked on the chart, showed the steamer to be in adangerous and exposed position, and as, moreover, she was a menace tonavigation, being full in the path of vessels, the _Miami_ got under wayimmediately.

  As soon as the Coast Guard cutter reached the bar, a snowstorm, whichseemed to have been waiting around, as if for that very purpose, struckdown upon the water and the _Miami_ clawed out over the bar in ablinding smother. There was a nasty, choppy sea, the wind having hauledround to the westward, though it was not as violent as the day before.At two o'clock in the afternoon the radio operator received a stormwarning for a nor'wester.

  A passing vessel spoke the _Miami_ by wireless and stated that she hadsighted the _Northwestern_, but gave her position twelve miles to thewestward of the point first quoted. It was evening before the steamer indistress was sighted. The Coast Guard cutter ran up under her stern, andasked if she could hold on for a while. The captain of the steameranswered that he could.

  "I'm all right, so far," he shouted back through the megaphone; "it'sthat blithering bally-hoo of a propeller!"

  His language was picturesque, fluent, and convincing, and everybody onboard the cutter grinned while the old sea-dog expressed a highlycolored opinion of the whole tribe of ship-fitters, machinists, andmechanics generally. After ten minutes of descriptive shouting, duringwhich he never repeated an adjective twice, he wound up by saying thathe considered "an engine-room an insult to a seaman's intelligence,"and said that "he'd like to pave the bottom of the sea with theskeletons of engineers diving a thousand fathom for his lost propeller!"Following which, he seemed to feel better, and discussed what was bestto be done with his ship.

  The situation was dangerous. The sea was far too rough for the loweringof a boat, no matter how well handled. The gale was such that it wasunsafe for the _Miami_ to anchor. In the case of the _Northwestern_,anchoring had been her last resort. There was fully twenty fathom ofwater, and fortunately the steamer's anchors held. The captain had putninety fathom of chain on each anchor, and though the weight pulled hernose into the water, so that she snubbed into the sea like a ram tryingto butt down a wall, still everything held. The _Miami_ stood by allnight, keeping close to the imperilled vessel.

  Next morning the conditions were no better. The advantages of daylightwere more than overcome by the increased fury of the sea. The_Northwestern_ lay in an angry rip, for the gale had come on in fullforce and was countering the long rollers from the southeast that hadbeen blown up by the storm of two days before, the same which haddriven the _Miami_ to shelter and which had crippled the big steamer,twice the size of the revenue cutter. The _Miami_ stayed near by, hoveto, waiting for the storm to abate. But of this there were no signs. Theforce of the gale increased steadily through the day.

  MAN'S WATERSPOUT. A DERELICT'S END.

  Courtesy of U.S. Coast Guard.]

  PREPARING TO BLOW UP A DERELICT.

  Courtesy of U.S. Coast Guard.]

  The _Northwestern_ was pitching terribly. She was heavily loaded with acargo of crude oil, and as she swung to the squalls, the sea breachedh
er completely and continuously. Only her high bow, poop, andpilot-house were out of the water for any length of time. The bigsteamer was tearing viciously at her anchors and it was amazing thatthey held. The long scope of chain, however, was probably her salvation.

  As darkness came on, the captain of the _Miami_ called the firstlieutenant.

  "Mr. Keelson," he said, "I think we'd better get a line to the steamer."

  "Very well, sir," the other answered.

  "If we're going to take her in tow," said Eric to Homer, overhearing theorder, "we're apt to get our stern works pulled out of us. She'spitching like all billy-o!"

  "We'll make it if the skipper says so," his friend said cheerfully.

  It was then nearly half past four o'clock, and fortunately there wasjust a slight lull in the storm. Swinging across the _Northwestern's_bow the gunner shot a line into her rigging. The steamer's crew were onthe alert--they had good men aboard that craft--and tailed on to theline. The _Miami_ forged ahead and dropped anchor with sixty fathom ofchain on the disabled steamer's starboard bow.

  The _Northwestern_ had got enough steam up for the donkey engine. It didnot take long for them to get first a strong rope and then the bighawser aboard, and make fast. As soon as the hawser was aboard, the_Northwestern_ began to heave up to her anchors. Closely watching, the_Miami_ hove up to hers, ready to break at the same instant that thesteamer broke free. The instant the larger vessel's anchor raised, the_Miami_ swung hers free, to avoid fouling, for in so fierce a gale themerest touch would have been fatal to one or both vessels.

  The _Northwestern_ swung down broadside to the sea and stood a fairchance of being swamped. The _Miami_, however, going ahead at fullspeed, just managed to bring the strain on the tow-line in time to swingthe steamer clear into the crest of a huge comber which struck her bowharmlessly instead of hurling its tons of water on her unprotected deck.

  The strain on the _Miami_ was extremely great, but the hawser held well,although the _Northwestern_ yawed frightfully. She would run up on theline, and the sea would strike her bow, throwing her off, tightening thetow-line suddenly with a jolt that shook the _Miami_ from stem to stern.It was an awful night's tow, but just at eight bells of the middle watchthe cutter and the rescued vessel passed the Frying Pan ShoalsLightship, and as soon as they got within lee of the shoals they met asmoother sea. At nine o'clock the next morning the _Northwestern_ wassafe and sound in a good anchorage in Southport at the mouth of the CapeFear River.

  When Eric came on deck again, he found the _Miami_ on her way southagain on the search for the derelict, _Madeleine Cooney_, this timereported by the United States Army mine planter, _Schofield_. Two daysafterwards in latitude 27 deg. 52' N., longitude 84 deg. 34' W., a vesselwas found in 65 fathom of water, with her anchor down, burned to her maindeck and on fire aft. She was dismasted and her bowsprit had gone. Ericwas sent in charge of one of the boats to run a line. The sea wascomparatively smooth, so that the _Miami_ made fast alongside her sternand put two lines of hose aboard. The cutter's heavy pumps were attachedand in fifteen minutes the fire was out.

  The anchor chain was fouled, so the first lieutenant gave orders thatthe cable should be slipped. Some of the cutter's men worked around themasts floating alongside and the entangled rigging, and cut away enoughof the rigging to make a heavy wire bridle which was passed through thehawse-pipes in the burned vessel's bow. This was necessary as none ofthe upper works of the ship remained to which a tow-line could beattached. To this bridle was bent the ten-inch hawser of the _Miami_,and the derelict was towed into Tampa Bay.

  On the way, however, rough weather came up and the masts and spars brokeadrift. As they were right in the path of traffic, the _Miami_ went backto destroy these. The spars were separated and allowed to drift, as theset of the current would soon take them ashore out of harm's way. Thisgot rid of everything except the lower part of the mainmast. As thisheavy spar itself might be the means of sinking a vessel if leftadrift, tossing on the waves, the _Miami_ parbuckled the big timber onboard, chopped it into small pieces--none of them large enough to do avessel any damage--and set them afloat.

  The weather continued squally as the _Miami_ ran down the coast, the tagend of the gale blowing itself to tatters on the stretch from CapeHatteras to Cape Fear. Little though Eric realized it then, before theyear was out, he was destined to know that coast from painful experienceand every curl of those hungry breakers was going to be imprinted on hisbrain.

  The _Miami_ was off Cape Canaveral when a radio message was receivedthat there was a derelict bark two hundred miles to the westward ofAbaco Island, the northernmost of the Bahamas. In less than threeminutes after the receipt of the message over the wireless, the captainhad been advised, the course changed and the _Miami_ was headed for thederelict at full speed. She had been running for a little over an hourwhen a second radio was received from a land station, relayed from asteamer.

  "Schooner _Marie-Rose_ reports passing water-logged vessel 23 deg. 40' N.and 73 deg. 10' W. Signs of distress observed. _Marie-Rose_, crippled andrunning before gale, could not heave to. Not known whether any one onboard."

  Then the wireless began to be busy. Within twenty minutes the samemessage was received from Washington, from the station at Beaufort,N. C., from Fernandina, Fla., from Key West and from Nassau. Then byrelays from vessels on the coast, from the _Seneca_, the Coast Guard'sgreat derelict destroyer, far out on the Atlantic; from the _Algonquin_,stationed at Porto Rico; from the _Onondaga_ patrolling the coast northof Cape Hatteras and from the _Seminole_ in port at Arundel Coveundergoing repairs, came orders from the Coast Guard Headquarters. The_Miami_ was instructed to proceed at once to the point indicated, torescue survivors if such were to be found and to destroy the derelictwhich was floating into the trade route and was a menace to navigation.Meanwhile, the long harsh "buzz" of the answer sounded all over the shipfrom the wireless room as the operator answered the various calls withthe information that the _Miami_ was already proceeding under fullspeed.

  "Van Sluyd will be sore," said Eric to Homer, as the message from the_Seminole_ was received; "she'd be sent instead of us if she weren't indock. When he hears that we're going on this chase instead of his owncraft, he'll be green with envy."

  "He'll get over that," said his friend; "he's under a good man. There'svery little gets by the _Seminole_ that is possible of achievement."

  Dawn was breaking as the _Miami_ neared the spot indicated by thewireless messages as the location of the derelict bark. Using this pointas a center, the navigating officer of the _Miami_ plotted a chart ofthe U-shaped course which would enable her to cruise and cover thegreatest amount of space without doubling. At about four bells in theafternoon watch the speaking tube on the bridge whistled.

  "Something that looks like a derelict, sir," came the message from theman in the crow's-nest, "bearing about a point and a half for'ard of theport beam."

  The officer of the deck gave a sharp order to change the course and the_Miami_ swung round. The captain was on the bridge at the time.

  "Observed anything, Mr. Hamilton?" he queried.

  "Lookout reports an object, now right ahead, sir," was the reply. Hepicked up the tube again.

  "Can you see the derelict now?"

  "Yes, sir," came the reply; "we're a-raisin' her fast."

  "She must be nearly flush with the water," said the officer of the deck,handing the glass to the captain; "I don't see her yet."

  In half an hour, however, there was no doubt that this was the derelictthat had been reported by the _Marie-Rose_. As the _Miami_ neared her itwas evident that she was heavily water-logged. Her bow was deep underwater, only her stern appearing above the surface. On the poop rail hadbeen hung a shirt, the white gleam of which might have been the distresssignal referred to in the message of the _Marie-Rose_. The _Miami_slowed up as she neared the derelict to survey the wreck. Suddenly therecame an order,

  "Clear away both cutters! Lively now, lads!"

  The men sprang to s
tations at the word.

  "Lower away together! Easy now! Let go all!"

  And with the routine of clockwork two of the _Miami's_ boats were in thewater and off for the derelict. The sea was choppy but not high, and thewater-logged bark lay so heavily that she scarcely moved. The waves cameup and dashed over her almost like a rock. One of the secondlieutenants, who was in charge of the large boat, was first to round thederelict. From the lee side, he pointed with his finger.

  "There must be somebody aboard her," said Eric, rightly guessing themeaning of the gesture. Then, noting the manner in which the other boatkept away, he realized that the wreckage was on that side. Wrenching thetiller round, he called,

  "Back starboard!"

  The boat spun round like a top, sweeping right under the vessel's stern.

  "Give way to starboard! Easy port!"

  The boat slid up alongside the derelict as though coming to a landingplace. The men trailed their oars, the bow oar grappled with a boat-hookand Eric leaped for the poop rail of the vessel, and swung himselfaboard. The deck was pitched forward at an angle of 30 degrees, butevidently the vessel had floated in that condition for some time, for asort of barricade had been made, with the right angle of the half-sunkcabin companion hatchway as a base, and on this three bodies were lying.A keg of water and a maggoty ham--the latter exposed to the fullsunlight of the tropics--was all the food in sight.

  Eric slid down the deck to this barricade. The first man seemed to bedead, the heart of the second was beating feebly, but the third, awhite-haired old man, appeared only to be asleep, the deep sleep ofexhaustion. When the boy put his hand on his shoulder, the old manopened his eyes wide.

  "So you have come the third time," he said, in a queer far-away voice,"but it is too late."

  Eric slipped his hand into his coat pocket and brought out a small phialof restorative he had provided just before leaving the cutter. He gavethe survivor a few sips. The old man changed not a muscle, only repeatedin the same dull and far-away voice,

  "So you have come the third time, but it is too late!"

  Perceiving that the sufferer regarded him as an apparition and that inhis hallucinations born of exhaustion and exposure he must have believedhe saw rescuers before, Eric picked the old man up bodily and, halfcrouching, half climbing on the sloping deck, carried him to thederelict's side. Two of the sailors climbed up and helped him lower theold man to the boat.

  Meantime the other boat had made fast and the second lieutenant joinedhim. He was a man of considerable experience, and while Eric was quiteproud of his knowledge and skill as a life-saver, he was amazed at thedeft handling of his superior officer.

  THE GREATEST MENACE OF THE SEAS.

  A sunken derelict ready to sink any vessel that strikes her.

  Courtesy of U.S. Coast Guard.]

  BURNED TO THE WATER'S EDGE.

  Vessel abandoned and floating in the path of commerce, hunted as adangerous beast, and found by the Coast Guard cutters.

  Courtesy of U.S. Coast Guard.]

  "I think this one's gone," said Eric in a low voice, pointing to thefirst man he had seen.

  The other cast a quick look at him and shook his head.

  "Pretty far gone, but not quite," he answered. "There's always afighting chance that we can pull him through. I'll take these two intomy boat and get back to the cutter. We'll probably blow this craft up,afterwards; we couldn't ever tow her this way."

  "Why, sir? Because she's too heavy?"

  "Not only that, but she lies too low. On end, the way she is now, she'sprobably drawing thirty-five or forty feet of water. She might stick ina channel somewhere and that would be worse than getting rid of her outhere."

  The boats raced back to the ship and the survivors were handed up to the_Miami_ where the surgeon immediately took charge. All preparations hadbeen made, meanwhile, for the placing of mines and Eric was told off inthe boat under the second lieutenant to see to the placing of thecharges.

  This was work to which Eric was unaccustomed and he watched withconsiderable interest the gunner's handling of the mines. It was easyenough to place the charges in the upper works of the stern where theywould be sure to blow that part of the ship to pieces, but so much ofthe forward portion of the hulk was under water that the problem therewas more difficult. In order to make sure of the job, five mines wereset and connected with each other by electric wiring. A long strand ofinsulated wire was then carried to the boat, over a hundred feet inlength.

  At a signal given him by the lieutenant, Eric pressed the button. Therewas a tremendous roar as a waterspout shot up from the surface of thesea. As though some vast leviathan had passed underneath the old barkand shouldered her out of the water, the long black hull heaved herselfup slowly. She seemed to hang poised for a fraction of a second on thesurface of the water as if, in her death agony, she had for a momentthought of her old life when, under press of sail, she flew boundingover the billows, defying the very elements which at last had worked herruin. Only for a moment she hung there, then with a dull crash shebroke her back. The bow plunged downward with a sullen plunge, but thestern still held poised. Then, quite suddenly, the air imprisoned in thehull broke free and slowly, almost, it seemed, with dignity, theremainder of the vessel sank forever beneath the surface of the waters.

  It was the end of the _Luckenback_ and somewhere at the bottom of thesea her distorted steel plating marks the spot where rest the ninemembers of her crew lost before the rescuing Coast Guard cutter hove insight.