CHAPTER XIV
A FEARFUL AWAKENING
It was evening on board the _Northland_, cool, calm and altogetherdelightful. Just enough of twilight lingered to make visible the broadexpanse of ocean, so calm that, if it were not so vast, one might almostthink it an inland lake. A silver-crescent moon, growing brighter everymoment as the soft light waned, cast its bright reflection into thequiet water where the dancing ripples broke and scattered it into myriadpoints of gleaming light. As the darkness grew, the stars came out andadded their beauty to the night.
To the groups of young athletes, lying at ease in steamer chairs on thedeck, the cool quiet of the perfect evening was most welcome, for it hadbeen a strenuous day. The hours allotted to practice had been filled totheir limit, and now it was luxury to lie with tired muscles relaxed andenjoy the peace and beauty of the quiet night.
For a long time no one spoke, but Tom, who could never bear to be quietvery long, nor let other people be, broke the silence by wondering whatBerlin was like.
"Why," answered Reddy who had twice visited the great German city, "it'sfine, but it sure is laid out queer, with the river running straightthrough it, cutting it clean in two. They've had to build many bridges,for the river branches off in more than one direction and you have tobe crossing over the water every little while."
"I've read about those bridges," said Bert, "and of the eight immensemarble statues that are to be seen on one of them. The statues representthe different stages of a soldier's career. On another is an equestrianbronze statue of Frederick of Germany."
"Well," said loyal Tom, "that's all right for Berlin, but I think we'veleft behind in little old New York, about everything that is reallyworth seeing."
Every one laughed, and Axtell said, "There's one thing in Berlin, youmust admit, that not even New York can boast; the thing we are all moreinterested in just now than anything else in the world, the greatOlympic athletic field."
This brought them around to athletics again and the talk ran ondifferent events and their hope of success in each until Dick rebelled."Do let's talk about something else once in a while," he remonstrated,"it's a wonder we don't all dream about the Stadium and get up in oursleep and go through the motions. They say your dreams are influenced bywhat has made the strongest impression on your mind during the day. Atleast that's the theory."
"Well," laughed Drake, "I can confirm your theory in part, anyway; forlast night I had the most vivid dream of a hurling match. I suppose thatwas because I thought of very little else all day."
There was quite a little discussion then as to whether dreams could becontrolled by the will or were entirely involuntary.
"Well," Bert said finally, "as opinions seem about evenly divided, Ipropose that we all go to bed to-night with a determination not to dreamof any form of athletics, and, in the morning report our success orfailure."
In order to give their minds a different bent, they sang college songsfor the next hour, then bade each other good-night, and went to puttheir theory to the test.
Perhaps the very determination not to dream of the athletic contest madeit more certain that he would dream of just that; but, at any rate,Drake did have a most vivid dream.
He thought that the great day of the meet had arrived, and, at last, thehour to which he had looked forward for so many weeks. The greataudience had assembled and sat in hushed expectancy, while he stoodready with muscles tense and discus poised.
So real was the dream that his body followed its movements. Slipping outof bed he moved noiselessly, still sleeping, up the stairs, and, asdirectly as if it were broad daylight instead of black night, on to thepractice space on the training deck, where a portion of the rail hadbeen removed to facilitate the throwing of the discus. Here, taking hisplace in the dream, within the circle of space allotted to him, he stoodfirm, poised the discus and stepped forward a couple of paces as hethrew. But, alas, that circle of space was only in his dream and inreality he had passed through the opening in the rail. The two pacescarried him over the edge of the vessel, through forty flying feet ofspace, and plunged him into the dark waters beneath.
The plunge awoke him. As he rose to the surface he instinctively struckout and kept himself afloat. Bewildered and half dazed, he askedhimself, "Where am I? How in the name of everything that's horrible, didI get here in the water?" Vain questions to which there came no answer.
He had fallen with his back to the ship, but now, as full consciousnesscame to him, he turned, and, to his horror, saw the lights of the_Northland_ drawing steadily away from him. Without stopping to reason,he began shouting at the top of his voice, and swimming with all hisstrength after the departing steamer. His one impulse was to reach it,his one thought that he must not be left alone there in mid-ocean.
For many minutes he swam madly, desperately, but soon the brief insanitypassed, his self-control returned, and he realized the uselessness ofthe vain struggle. He ceased swimming and, alternately treading waterand floating, to rest his strained muscles, tried to collect histhoughts and determine what to do.
As he floated, he forced his mind backward. One by one the events of theevening on board the _Northland_ came back to him. The quiet lovelinessof the night, the talk about Berlin, about the events so soon to takeplace and about dreams----
"Ah, dreams," he said aloud. Like a flash he remembered his vivid dreamof the Olympic field in Berlin; remembered how in his dream he stoodready to take his part in the great contest; remembered the strainedmuscles, the poised discus, the forward step--ah, that was it! He feltcertain that now he had the reason for his present desperate plight. Hemust have walked in his sleep and, in his sleep, slipped overboard.
This plausible solution of the mystery was some small satisfaction.Question after question assailed him. How long after he tumbled into hisberth had this happened? Was it hours afterward? If so, it would soon bedaylight and then he might be able to sight some object that would helphim. Had it happened shortly after he fell asleep? Then long hours mustpass before the dawn. Stout, husky fellow and strong swimmer that hewas, could he keep afloat through those endless hours? He knew that anordinarily strong man could keep himself afloat five or six hours,seldom longer.
It was eleven o'clock when he went to his berth. The sun rose at thistime of the year at about half-past four, so that would make five and ahalf hours at the most; but the probability was that an hour or more hadelapsed before the dream came. That would leave four hours or so beforedawn. They would not miss him before breakfast and that would double thefour hours.
He did not doubt that they would search for him. If the _Northland_ hadbeen a passenger steamer, sailing under regular schedule, she would nothave been able to waste hours, perhaps for one missing passenger. Beingunder special charter, her time was at her own disposal, and he knewthat she would return over her course and send her small boats in everydirection in search of him. But at least twelve or fourteen hours mustelapse before any aid could reach him.
As this terrible realization came upon him, he was filled with despair.What use to continue to struggle for the few hours that his strengthwould hold out? It would only be a drawing out of misery with deathsurely at the end. Better by far to hold himself, deliberately underwater and in a few brief minutes end it all. But, no, he would not. Hewould keep himself afloat till daylight. Perhaps the dawn would show himsome floating spar or piece of wreckage to which he might cling. It washis duty to preserve his life as long as possible. If at last he mustyield himself to old ocean, he could at least die with the consciousnessthat he had not yielded like a coward, but had fought on until the endwith dauntless determination.
At that moment, as if to reward his courage and manly resolution, afaint light began to creep over land and ocean. With a thrill herealized that the dawn, which he had feared was hours distant, was athand, and hope sprang anew. But as the light grew and the great,desolate expanse of ocean spread itself out before his eager eye,despair again seized him.
On every side not
hing but that great stretch of water. Not a speck aslarge as his hand upon its calm, cruel surface.
But wait!--what was that black object that caught his eye as he rose tothe crest of a wave? Was it only imagination? a shape born of hisdesperate desire? No, there it was again. It was real.
Swimming with renewed energy he steered straight for the floatingobject, but paused again as a new fear gripped his heart. What if itwere the fin of a shark! If that was what it was, then he was justhurrying to meet a terrible death. He would rather drown than suffersuch a death as that. A few moments he hesitated, but the thought thatsharks were not so numerous in the Atlantic as in the Pacific reassuredhim, and he said aloud, "Well, it is a last chance, and I'll take it."
Resolutely, now, he swam on, until as he rose to the crest of a largewave, he found himself near enough to observe that what he had feared ata distance was a shark's fin was a floating cask. He instantlyrecognized it as one which had been rolled near to the rail of the_Northland_ for the fellows to sit on. He must have touched it as hewent overboard and it had fallen with him.
With a cry of joy he reached it, and, after a failure or two, succeededin grasping it firmly. Now he had a much better view of the ocean.Again he cast his eager eyes across that great waste of water--and hisheart nearly stopped beating. At no great distance and bearing directlytoward him was a large steamer flying the French colors. Would she seehim or would she pass him by? He scarcely dared hope he would be seen,he was such a speck on that boundless ocean. He could only wait withheart aching with suspense.
Nearer and still nearer came the great ship, until, after what seemed anage of waiting, she was within hailing distance. Eagerly he scanned herfor sight of any living being, but he could see no one moving on herdecks.
Stripping the jacket of his pajamas from his shoulders he waved itdesperately, and shouted with all his strength. Ah, she is passing, shedoes not see him! But just as all hope seemed lost, he saw hurryingfigures on board, and a ringing voice came over the water. "Havecourage, we will come to you."
A great revulsion of feeling passed over him and never afterward couldhe remember just what happened after that voice reached him, except thathe clung, dazed and almost fainting, to the cask for what seemed hours,and then--nothingness!
When he again opened his eyes, he was lying at length on the deck ofthe strange steamer, and kind faces were bending over him.
His story was soon told and he was overjoyed to learn that the steamerwas fitted with wireless apparatus and that a message would be sent assoon as possible to the _Northland_. Almost before he was missed,the news of his safety would reach them. With thankful heart and inineffable content he lay, finding it hard to assure himself that deathhad passed him by, and life, sweeter than ever before, stretched beforehim.
On board the _Northland_ the breakfast hour had come, and all took theirplaces at the table with unusual alacrity, as they were to report thesuccess or failure of their effort to control dreams by their will-power.Soon all were assembled but Drake.
"Where's Drake?" was the general demand.
"He must be dreaming yet," laughed Bert. "He sure has met with failure."
"No," Axtell, who shared Drake's stateroom, assured them. "He has beenup this long while. He had left his berth this morning before I awoke."
They waited a while and then, as he did not come, Axtell went to findhim. In a short time he returned with the startling news that Drake didnot appear to be anywhere on the ship.
"He's putting up a joke on us," said Tom with a half-hearted attempt ata grin.
Everyone hoped that this might be true, but it did not prevent athorough search of the ship, it is needless to say, without result.Great was the consternation on board.
"What under the sun could have happened to him," Dick wondered.
"No one knows," Axtell answered anxiously. "Come on, fellows, let's haveone more look. He must be hiding somewhere."
"But where, where," Tom cried, at his wit's end. "How could he havedisappeared so completely?"
"That isn't the question," Bert cried impatiently. "It's up to us tofind out where, if we can," and once more the search was begun.
Five minutes more of frantic search brought no reward. The fellows, nowthoroughly panic-stricken, stood and looked into each other's palefaces, trying to imagine what had happened.
"He must be somewhere on the ship," Martin persisted, desperately."Nothing else is possible."
The startling news had been carried to Captain Everett and his voicecould now be heard giving orders for a most thorough search of the ship.This was done but still without avail.
At this report their last hopes were dissipated and all were forced tobelieve that in some mysterious way Drake had accidentally fallenoverboard. At this solution of the mystery every heart was filled withfrantic grief, for Drake was loved by all. Then they all felt an almostirresistible impulse to fling themselves overboard and drag himsomewhere, somehow, from that sea of death.
"If he has fallen overboard," Axtell said with a choke in his voice,"he'll have no chance at all."
"Oh," Tom cried, throwing himself down in a chair, "poor, poor oldDrake; and we are so powerless to help him."
"There's one chance left," Reddy comforted, striving to bring back aspark of hope to their despairing hearts. "He's right in the steamerlane and one of them may pick him up."
Eagerly they clutched at this one straw held out to them and hope wasfurther strengthened by the fact that the _Northland_ had turned and,with all steam on, was retracing her course. A faint hope, at best, theyknew, for even if his splendid strength had held out till then, howcould such a small speck as he must seem on that boundless ocean, besighted from the deck of a steamer? Then, too, the _Northland_ could notretrace her course exactly and the currents might have carried the poorcastaway far adrift. A forlorn hope indeed!
* * * * *
Click! click! went the key of the wireless, and the operator straightenedin his chair as a message came over the water.
"On board the _Northland_," it flashed, "Drake rescued this morning byFrench steamer _Lafayette_. Will reach Havre on Thursday at eleven A. M.Will await _Northland_. All well."
A moment and the message was in the captain's hands. Then such wild,uncontrollable joy broke out on board as the _Northland_ had neverbefore witnessed. Everybody shook everybody else by the hand, alltalking at once and neither knowing nor caring what they said.
When, two days later their old comrade stood among them their joy knewno bounds. They carried him around on their shoulders and nearly killedhim with their hilarious demonstrations.
"It's too good to be true," said Axtell, with his arm around his chum'sshoulder, "to have you back again safe and sound. Say, fellows," hesaid, turning to the others, while his old smile flashed out again, "tothink that all that came from walking in a dream. If that's the kind of'stuff that dreams are made of,' may none of us ever dream again!"
Bert Wilson, Marathon Winner Page 14