The Voice of the Fog Pirate
Affairs were bad enough on board the Herculanea, but not quite so bad as
the cry of the terror-stricken passenger would seem to indicate.
Although she was steadily sinking lower and lower, the steamer remained
afloat half an hour after the first boiler explosion. After a hundred or
more had leaped into the sea, following the example of the first
terrified wretch, the panic subsided, and the saner ones busied
themselves at devising means of self-preservation. But it was plainly a
question of only a short time when she would tip on end and plunge
downward, so that all worked with the greatest of haste.
Guy and his two friends kept together through the fearful excitement. A
dozen rafts, large enough and well enough buoyed to float with a burden
of from twenty-five to fifty persons each, were being launched with
greater energy than skill, and conditions now looked hopeful for those
who had leaped into the sea with life jackets, as well as for the many
who still remained on board.
As soon as those on the boat deck observed what was going on below,
there was a general rush down to the main deck. Guy, Watson and Glennon
aided in lowering the rafts and were among the last to seek refuge
themselves on one of the floating platforms.
So far as they were able to determine, no lives were lost in this final
abandonment of the sinking vessel. All, apparently, wore life jackets
and even those who ordinarily were unable to swim had little difficulty
in making their way to the rafts and climbing aboard. Then, as rapidly
as possible, the escaping passengers and members of the crew rowed away
from the doomed Herculanea in order not to be sucked down with her when
she plunged to the bottom of the ocean.
The raft on which Guy and his two friends made their escape was less
than 100 hundred feet away from the ship when another boiler explosion
settled the question as to how much longer she would be afloat. The men
with the oars in their hands strained every muscle in their bodies and
limbs and succeeded in more than doubling this distance, when the great
liner plunged nose down out of sight. Even then the strength of the
oarsmen was not sufficient to stem the backward pull of the cataclysmic
current, and they were dragged almost to the very spot where the ship
sank. But although the raft was rocked violently, no damage was done,
except the tipping off of two passengers, who were soon taken aboard
again, none the worse for their ducking, if we except violent chills and
chattering teeth.
Following the disappearance of the Herculanea beneath the surface of the
sea, more attention was given by the occupants of the rafts to their
surroundings. No doubt there had been only casual observation of the
proximity of the great iceberg on the part of anybody as long as the
ship remained afloat. Now it was the principal object of interest for
all.
Guy told himself that he had never dreamed that there could be so mighty
a mass of ice between the arctic and antarctic circles. Naturally the
sight of this frigid monster, in the gloom of the starlit night, tended
further to depress his spirits and caused him to give way for a time to
the most wretched forebodings, and it was only after an inward struggle
that he was able to overcome them.
A majority of those on the raft on which Guy and his friends had sought
refuge decided that it was better not to row away from the place where
the liner went down because of the expected arrival of one or more
rescue ships in a few hours. Some of the men were disposed to grumble a
little at this inactivity, but Watson, who soon assumed the role of
leader by virtue of his readiness of ideas, suggested that they take
turns at the oars and propel the craft around in a circle near the
iceberg. As everybody was wet and cold, all were eager to put their
hands to the oars, so that there was no lack of helpers in this aimless
occupation. Even the half dozen women on the raft took their turns at
the circular rowing.
This raft was one of the larger that had been carried by the Herculanea
and supported some twenty-five passengers. The material and construction
were of a kind generally approved for life saving emergencies of this
kind. The buoys were long metal cylinders, cone shaped at each end, like
a sharpened pencil. Over these was a large platform or deck, made of
many slats of light wood, laid side by side an inch or two apart and
bound together with steel cross rods.
In spite of the fact that they were in no immediate danger of drowning,
the shipwrecked occupants of this and all the other rafts from the
Herculanea were anything but confident of safety for themselves in their
condition and surroundings. They were all wet to the skin, and the
atmosphere and the water into which many of them had plunged when
leaving the steamer were almost as cold as ice. It seemed scarcely
possible that the constitutions of the most hardy could withstand such
exposure many hours. Moreover, the sea was by no means calm. A
considerable swell of the ocean drenched them repeatedly so that there
was little likelihood of any amelioration of their discomfort by the
drying of their clothes in the smart wind that blew.
“It seems to me that the wind is getting stronger and the waves
heavier,” remarked one of the women, nervously addressing Guy, who clung
to some of the slats of their raft near her.
“We can’t hang onto this raft if the sea gets much rougher,” declared
another woman.
“If the waves are going to get much higher, we’d be much better off on
that iceberg,” declared a shivering middle-aged man to Guy’s left.
“That isn’t a bad idea,” said a “half-drowned” seaman, who seemed to be
suffering quite as wretchedly as the women. “I move that we look for a
landing place.”
“Are the rescue ships likely to look for anybody on the iceberg?”
questioned Guy.
“They’ll make a good search for us all around here, never fear,” replied
the seaman. “It’s up to us to keep ourselves alive by any means possible
for several hours, and we’ll be safe. We can’t live in this ice-water,
though.”
“How about on the ice?” inquired Watson, who had been listening
attentively to the discussion.
“We’ll have a better chance to move around there and dry our clothes,”
replied the seaman. “We can fly signals, too, from the top of the berg,
if we can get up there. They ought to attract attention from so high a
point.”
The seaman’s argument created a generally favorable impression, and a
little further discussion resulted in a unanimous vote to seek refuge on
the iceberg. This mountain of frozen water, being only a short rowing
distance from where the ship went down, was soon reached. But
disappointment met their first close inspection, for as far as they were
able to see, there appeared to be no “landing place.” Then they rowed in
an easterly direction along the ragged wall of ice. Another and smaller
raft, supporting some twenty passengers, followed them.
They rowed around the eastern end of the berg and some distance along
the northern side. In spite of his great physical discomfort, Guy soon
found his interest centered again on the immensity of the floating mass
of ice, which became more and more evident as they advanced, in spite of
the darkness of the night. At last they found an ideal “beach,” sloping
down gradually to the water’s edge. The waves dashed high upon this
area, and it was evident that if they were to effect a “landing” it
could be done only by a vigorous “beaching” drive.
The oarsmen of the larger raft took in the situation at a glance and
acted accordingly. They bent to the task with their best energy and the
raft seemed to be lifted almost out of the water in the crest of a wave.
Then down it came with a crash and a crunching, grinding sound. Some of
the passengers were literally hurled off the raft and onto the ice as
the water receded.
“Look out! She’ll be carried back by the next wave,” shouted one of the
men. “Lay hold and we’ll save her.”
Guy sprang forward with a score of other men to seize the raft and drag
it farther up on the “beach;” but, as he did so, a thrill of
astonishment electrified his numb physique.
That voice! Surely it was the “squeaky-roar” of the London “fog pirate.”
But it was not so much the voice as the identity of its possessor that
astonished the boy. The man who shouted the warning stood only a few
feet away from Guy and the latter recognized him.
It was Gunseyt.