Searching the Sea
The Jetta was built for both speed and rough weather. She was fifty feet
long, and her other proportions carried with them lines of beauty and
grace, as well as “a good pair of heels.” She had a six-cylinder,
200-horse power gasoline engine, capable of driving the yacht, on a
smooth sea, at the rate of 22 miles an hour.
Architecturally the little vessel was designed with a view to practical
use of all the space within her. Just back of the fore peak was the
galley, with sink, ice box, cooking stove, and various other “food
factory” accessories and conveniences. Abaft this layout was a large
cabin, with Pullman berths on either side. Amidships were two
staterooms, with lockers and berths, and back of these was the engine
room, flanked by two large fuel tanks and locker batteries. Overhead was
a large well-glazed deck house, connecting directly with the galley and
serving conveniently as a combined observation cabin and dining saloon.
A forward portion of the deck house was partitioned off for the pilot
and contained steering wheel, engine controls, chart case, log, ship’s
clock, thermometers, barometer, compass and sextant.
There was little conversation on board the Jetta for several hours
following her midnight departure. After getting her started and seeing
that all was running well, Walter turned the engine over to Tony and
returned to his wireless instruments. There, with receivers to his ears,
he waited eagerly for new messages regarding the wrecked steamer and her
passengers. Occasionally he would call down through the speaking tube to
find out if everything was going well in the engine room, and Tony would
always inquire if he had caught any new messages of importance. Finally
Walter, in reply to one of these questions, revealed his hopeful secret
by remarking casually:
“Nothing new of much importance. There’s a steamer hurrying to the
rescue, but she’s over a hundred miles away from the Herculanea, and
it’ll take her several hours to reach the wreck. By that time it’ll be
all over, and all they can do is pick up the boats.”
“It’ll take us two days and one night at least to reach the wreck,” said
Tony. “What do you expect to find then?”
“To tell the truth, I don’t really expect to find anything. But I’m
going to search the sea all around, and if we’re unsuccessful, we’ll at
least have the satisfaction of knowing we did our best.”
But Walter did not tell Tony all that was in his mind. He had a great
fear that he would find a number of rafts supporting the bodies of many
passengers who had succumbed to starvation and exposure, and that two of
them would prove to be his mother’s and Guy’s. He preferred, however, to
keep this fear to himself, for he knew that neither Tony nor Det could
offer him any reassurance.
The wireless information regarding the Herculanea was too clear and
definite to allow of much doubt. The operator had said that a great hole
had been blown by some mysterious explosion in the forward part of the
ship and that she was rapidly filling and going down. At first it was
believed that she had struck an iceberg, as the Titanic had done, but
investigation proved this impossible and indicated almost beyond
question that a floating contact mine had caused the disaster.
During the night the Jetta kept well out from the shore in order to
avoid running onto rocks. True, there was a strong head-light in the
bow, but Det did not wish to depend on this and his limited knowledge of
the coast to carry them on safely. In the daytime they continued along
in sight of the shore until they reached Halifax, where they stopped for
gasoline and some additional provisions. They also inquired for news
regarding the Herculanea and were astonished at the ignorance of
everybody to whom they spoke on the subject. Walter bought a copy of
every newspaper he could find but not a line did any of them contain
concerning the wreck. Deeply mystified, he returned to the yacht.
From Halifax they proceeded northward and in a few hours were out of
sight of land. Shortly before noon Walter caught several messages from
the rescue ship, which had reached the scene of the disaster, picked up
several boats and rafts loaded with passengers and was making for New
York. This was good news in itself, but was accompanied with the
announcement that a considerable number of the passengers and crew had
perished.
Then followed a long succession of messages from the rescued to
relatives and friends ashore. Walter listened eagerly to these, hoping
to catch one from his mother and brother. For half an hour he suffered
the keenest of hoping and despairing suspense: then came the following,
addressed to Mr. Burton:
“Mrs. Burton safe. Guy missing.”
A great thrill of joy leaped into Walter’s heart and mind as he read the
first three words of this message; then the reaction of the last two
words depressed him almost as violently. What had become of his brother?
The message gave no hint. How he longed to be able to flash back a
message to his mother that he was racing over the sea to search for Guy!
After leaving Halifax, no more land was sighted on the outward course.
Fortunately the sea was not very rough any of the time. On the second
night a rather stiff breeze blew from the north, but the waves did not
rise very high, and the progress of the Jetta was little impeded. Next
day and the following night the wind blew still stronger, but the yacht
still rode jauntily over the swell of the ocean.
On the second day they reached, as they believed, the vicinity of the
disaster, but darkness gathered before they could make any headway with
their search. Then they arranged to pass the night in much needed rest
and sleep. Det had the first watch, Tony the second, and Walter the
third. Before daybreak Walter prepared breakfast and then called his
companions. By the time they had eaten, it was light enough to begin
their hunt for survivors of the wreck.
From one of the lockers in the cabin, Walter produced a pair of strong
binoculars, and with these he swept the ocean in all directions, but
found nothing of interest. There was a little ice here and there, but no
icebergs were discovered. Then Det made calculations again and decided
that they ought to proceed thirty miles to the southeast in order to
reach the exact latitude and longitude specified by the Herculanea
operator.
The course of the Jetta was accordingly set in that direction. On
account of the increasing amount of ice, it was deemed safest to run at
a moderate rate of speed so that three hours elapsed before the old
sailor announced that they had reached approximately the locality sought
for. Meanwhile Walter continued to sweep the sea with the glasses and
discovered a large iceberg off to the southwest and several smaller ones
to the east and northeast.
“That’s a whopper off there,” declared Det, as he gazed through the
glasses at the largest one. “I think we’d better make toward it. The
wireless messages mentioned a big iceberg near the wreck, you say.”
“Do you think that’s the one?” inquired Tony.
“More’n likely. You see, the wreck happened about here, and the wind is
from the north. So it couldn’t ’a’ been any of those to the east or
northeast.”
“But what’s the use following the iceberg?” Tony asked. “The wind
wouldn’t blow them in that direction unless they had a sail.”
“That’s true; but what’s to have prevented them from rigging up a sail?
Anyway, it’s the most likely direction for them to take as it’s toward
home. I’ve got an idea that if we find anybody at all, we’ll find ’em on
the other side o’ that berg.”
The element of doubt in Det’s words, made Walter gloomy. The vision of
so much sea with nothing else in sight but ice and icebergs and a
birdless sky rendered him the more susceptible of hopelessness.
“If we find anything—” he began, and then stopped. He had had in mind to
conclude the sentence, “it’ll be dead bodies,” but a lump came up in his
throat, and he could go no further.
And before they had proceeded much farther, his fear was realized.
Presently Walter’s glasses brought to his vision numerous small dark
objects on the water, and in less than half an hour they were moving
among half a hundred human bodies buoyed up with life jackets.
There was little conversation now on board the Jetta. Tony, utterly
discouraged, remained in the engine room most of the time. Walter and
Det looked at each other with dull, heavy eyes. Must they examine all
those bodies, or many of them, until they discovered the one whom they
had come to rescue?
“I can’t do it,” was all that Walter could say. “Let’s hunt farther, go
around to the other side of that iceberg and then come back here
if—if—we have to.”
Det’s only reply was a reduction of speed. Then he looked ahead
carefully to avoid striking any of the floating bodies. Pretty soon
Walter observed a small raft—the only raft in sight—a hundred feet
distant, with two bodies lying on it. The face of one was toward him,
and a chill of dread seized him as he recognized, or thought he
recognized, the features.
He signaled his suspicion to Det, who nodded his head. The yacht ran
close to the raft and stopped, and Tony rushed on deck to see what had
happened. Walter leaned over the rail and gazed at the face. Then he
straightened up and announced with evident relief:
“That isn’t Guy.”
Det and Tony also agreed that the body of the young man on the raft was
not that of their missing friend. But it was of about the same size, and
the facial contour, though not the features, was similar to that of
Walter’s brother.
Det put on full speed again. The run around the berg was uneventful,
except that it revealed to them, far to the southward, another and far
greater mountain of ice, which they had not observed before. Walter
scanned the sea as far as his glasses would reach, south, east, and
west, but without fruitful result. Then he said:
“We’ve got just about enough time to go back and examine those bodies
before dark. Let’s do that and in the morning start toward home, running
farther to the south than we ran on our way here.”
Just as they were about to start back for the sea-surface graveyard,
Tony reported trouble with the engine, and Walter and Det made an
investigation. The engine was spitting and coughing and behaved as if
something was choking it. An examination of the carburetor disclosed
that the latter was flooding and considerable gas was being wasted.
Walter turned off the petcock on the feed line and then set to work to
find out what was the cause of the flooding. He removed the carburetor
and took it apart. Then he and Det looked over each part carefully to
discover if there was any dirt or other interference preventing the
closing of the needle valve. No trouble of this nature was disclosed.
Walter then substituted a new needle valve, reassembled the carburetor,
and put it back in position. As he turned on the gasoline, everything
seemed to be O K; so he started the engine, but half a minute later it
choked again.
In this manner they worked over the engine several hours, taking the
carburetor apart half a dozen times. The last time they discovered the
real cause of the trouble, which consisted of several metal filings in
the hole in which the needle valve was intended to fit.
All this consumed much precious time, and when at last they had the
engine apparently in good working order again, it was dark; so they
decided to defer the examination of the bodies of the shipwreck victims
until morning. After supper they arranged watches and prepared to pass
the night as comfortably as might be under the circumstances.
Although the boy skipper instructed his companions to call him for the
last watch, they did not obey his command. After he had turned in, they
altered the program, dividing the night into two watches, one for each.
They knew that Walter was in need of mental and physical rest and
determined that he should have it in spite of himself. And so the latter
was much surprised, though refreshed, when he was awakened at daybreak
with the announcement that breakfast was ready.
After breakfast it was discovered that more work was needed on the
engine. Several of the spark plugs were dirty, and the oil had thickened
in the commutator, resulting in poor contact between the roller and the
points. Hence, the sun was several hours high before they got back to
the area of floating bodies.
The examination of these bodies consumed more than an hour, and the
relief of all may be realized as a look into the face of the last
established the fact that Guy was not among them.
“I might have known we wouldn’t find him here,” Walter declared. “Guy’s
not the boy to die without making a mighty big effort to save himself,
and I bet we’ll find him yet—alive.”
“There’s one thing I’ve been wondering about,” Tony remarked; “and that
is why there isn’t a regular regiment of sharks here devouring these
bodies.”
But he had hardly spoken when he wished he had not given utterance to
the thought. A pained expression on Walter’s face indicated plainly the
suggestion that was moving in his mind. Perhaps a number of sharks
already had been there and departed and Guy’s body was one of those that
had been devoured, or possibly he had been eaten alive!
Det offered no expert explanation of Tony’s “wonder.” He felt that the
subject had better be dropped; so he said:
“Well, now that we’ve finished, let’s go and find Guy floating on a raft
or in a boat.”
This was a cheerful suggestion, and Walter, with an effort, drove the
shark theory out of his mind. The yacht was turned to the southwest, and
the journey in search of a live brother was begun. They had not
proceeded many boat-lengths, however, when Det stopped again at the side
of the raft on which lay the body which had appeared so much like that
of Guy on the day before.
“What’s the matter?” Walter inquired apprehensively.
“Nothing,” replied the old sailor; “only I’m a little curious about that
note book. I saw it there yesterday, but thought it a waste of time to
look into it.”
As he finished speaking, he stepped over the rail and onto the raft and
took from the rigid left hand of the corpse a small, red-leather-bound
book. Then he stepped back onto the deck of the Jetta and examined the
object of his curiosity. The leather was welted and warped as a result
of wetting. The leaves were celluloid, and there was pencil writing on
them.
Walter looked over Det’s shoulder as the latter turned the leaves and
read. Tony also stood near and watched the proceeding. Presently he
started forward in wondering eagerness when he saw the young skipper’s
eyes almost pop out of his head with joy. The latter unable longer to
contain his ecstasy, exclaimed:
“Det! Tony! I know where Guy is. He’s on the big iceberg that was near
the Herculanea when she went down.”