THE MAN FROM THE WRECK.
All on board the Dashaway were intensely interested in the discovery old
Jacob had made.
"You are sure you saw the small boat?" questioned Dick.
"I didn't see a thing," declared Don.
"Nor did I," added Leander.
"I saw the boat right enough, lads," returned the old Yankee tar. "It
was out there," he pointed with his long forefinger. "Look! look!"
Another flash of lightning had lit up the firmament, making all as
bright as day. Not fifty yards from the Dashaway all beheld an upturned
rowboat, just rising to the top of one of the long ocean swells. To one
end of the tiny craft a man was clinging desperately. It was possible
that he was crying for help, but if so, the uproar of the storm drowned
out his voice completely.
"Dat fellow will be lost sure!" burst out Danny Guirk. "Poor man, he
must feel awful!"
"We must try to save him," came from Dick.
"That's true," said Don. "But how?"
[Illustration]
"I don't see what we can do, with such a sea running," added Leander.
"If we get much closer we'll run him down."
"We can go a little nearer, and then we can try to throw him a rope with
a life preserver attached," concluded Dick.
To attempt to do more than keep the yacht headed in the teeth of the
gale was a hazardous undertaking. Yet all on board the Dashaway realized
that a human life was in peril, and that some risk must be run in order
to effect a rescue, were such a thing possible.
"I can't see him now," said old Jacob, as the lightning seemed to
subside for the time being. "It's as black as night."
"Let us fire up with a Bengal light," suggested Leander, and ran off for
the article. Soon it was spluttering in the rain, but brightening up the
scene about them for several hundred feet.
"Help! help!" came faintly to their ears, as the Dashaway drew closer to
the upturned rowboat. "Don't leave me to perish! Help!"
"Catch the life line!" roared Dick, and whirling the article over his
head, he let fly with all the strength and skill at his command.
It was a clever throw, the line shooting over the middle of the small
boat and the life preserver hitting the water just beyond. The castaway
caught hold of both, but hesitated about letting go of the rowboat that
had so far saved him from a watery grave.
"Haul in, all of you!" cried Dick. "I'll stand at the rail with this
boathook and try to keep him from being pounded on the yacht's side."
The young leader's instructions were obeyed, and slowly but surely the
upturned boat and its occupant came closer. But then came a huge wave,
and man and boat parted company and disappeared from view.
"Hold tight!" screamed Dick, as the man reappeared, and then he reached
down with the boathook, and in a twinkle the rescued one came sprawling
on the deck, while Dick slipped flat on his back.
The rescue had taken place none too soon, for now the storm increased in
fury, and old Jacob lashed himself to the wheel, while ordering all of
the others below.
"He has fainted," said Leander, as he knelt over the man who had been
saved. "Let us carry him below;" and this was done. In the cabin the
stranger was made as comfortable as possible and stimulants were
administered; but it was a long time before he either spoke or moved.
The storm lasted all of the afternoon and the greater part of the night,
and nobody thought of going to sleep.
"If you wanted an adventure, Leander, I guess you are getting it,"
remarked Don, grimly. "This is worse than that blizzard. I'll be
thankful if we get out of this with whole skins."
"Dis is de greatest storm I ever seed," put in Danny. "If de boat shakes
much more, everyt'ing in de crockery line will be gone to smash, dat's a
fact," and he rolled off to secure his dishes and pans from such a
catastrophe. Several dishes and glasses were wrecked, but not as many as
Danny imagined.
The man who had been rescued was a heavy-set individual of twenty-five
or thirty years of age, and Dick rightfully guessed that he was an
Englishman. He had been struck on the head, and it was found that a
nasty cut must be plastered up and then bound with a cloth.
"Poor fellow, he has certainly had a hard time of it," observed Don.
"I'm glad we managed to save him."
"And so am I glad," returned Dick. "I'll wager he'll have a story worth
telling when he gets around to it."
"Yes, I have a tale worth telling," came with a gasp from the sufferer;
but having opened his eyes for a moment, he closed them again, and said
nothing more for fully half an hour.
The fury of the storm had caused the Dashaway to move far out to sea,
and when, at eleven in the morning, old Jacob announced that all danger
was over, they calculated that it would take them twenty-four hours and
more to reach Savannah, whither they had been bound for some extra
ship's supplies.
"I don't care—so long as we have enough eating to last us," was Dick's
comment. "I'm happy to escape with my life."
"And I am happy to think that we have been the means of saving somebody
else," put in Don.
Both had gone on deck to see what old Jacob had to say about their next
movement. They returned to the cabin to find the rescued man stirring
again.
"You have saved my life, lads," were his first words. "I shall never
forget you for that, never!" and he put out his hand feebly, for one and
another to press.
"Did you fall overboard from some boat?" questioned Dick, kindly.
"I did—that is, I am not quite sure," was the measured answer.
"You are not sure?" repeated Don, with a puzzled look.
"No, I am not quite sure. I was standing by the steamer's rail and the
ship was pitching terribly. Suddenly I was lifted off my feet—how I
cannot tell—and then I found myself pitching headlong into the water. It
is strange! strange!—" And the man drew a long breath.
"Do you mean to say that you think somebody might have pitched you into
the ocean?" cried Dick.
"I am sure of nothing, my lads. But—but—there was one man on board the
Advance who would not have been above heaving me overboard, were the
chance given to him." The sufferer looked around curiously. "You have
saved my life; I don't know but that I may as well tell you my secret."
"We would certainly like to hear your story," returned Leander, bluntly.
"Then I will tell it as well as I am able. In the first place, I am an
Englishman, and my name is Robert Menden. Less than two weeks ago I took
passage on the steamship Advance, bound from Liverpool to Havana, Cuba.
I wished to sail direct for Porto Rico, but could not obtain the
passage, so took what I considered the next best thing. You know it is
easy to get passage to any of the West Indies from Havana."
"Yes, I know that," returned Dick. "Havana is quite a center of trade."
"I was bound to Porto Rico in search of a fortune, which I heard of
quite by accident while I was travelling in Spain nearly a year ago. On
board the Advance was a man who knew my secret. He was an old enemy of
mine, and I cannot get it out of my head but that he helped me
overboard, not only to get rid of me, but also that he might secure the
treasure for himself."