DEEP WATER
The ebb tide soon caught the Mary Jane in the suck of its swift current
and the boat rushed seaward. Presently she struck the breakers and
floundering through them like a wounded duck, commenced to rise and fall
on the rhythmic ground swell.
Dorothy came out of the cabin rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“You didn’t take much of a rest,” said Bill from his place at the wheel.
She yawned and caught at the cabin roof to steady herself.
“Mary Jane’s gallop through the breakers woke me up. Sleeping on a hard
floor isn’t all it’s cracked up to be—and the cabin was awfully
stuffy.”
“Are you as good a sailor as you are a sport?”
“I don’t know much about this deep water stuff, but I’ve never been
seasick. Thought I might be if I stayed in there any longer, though.”
“Feel badly now?”
“No, this fresh air is what I needed. Is that the lightship dead ahead?
I just caught the glow.”
“Yep. That’s Fire Island Light. I wish this confounded drizzle would
stop. The swell is getting bigger and shorter. Must be a breeze of wind
not far to the east of us.”
“D’you think we’re in time, Bill?”
“Yes, I think so. The weather is probably thick farther out and up the
coast, and the ship will be running at reduced speed. It’s likely she’ll
be an hour or so late. There is a ship out yonder, but it’s a tanker or
a freighter.”
“How do you know that?”
“Why, a liner would be showing deck and cabin lights. Here comes the
breeze—out of the northeast.”
“It’s raining harder, too. Ugh! What a filthy night.”
Bill nodded grimly in the darkness. “You said a mouthful. It’ll be good
and sloppy out here in another hour or two. Jolly boating weather, I
don’t think! And we can’t get back into the bay until daylight, I’m
afraid.”
The big boat continued to pound steadily seaward and before long the
lightship was close abeam. Bill ran some distance outside it, then
stopped the engine.
“No use wasting gas,” he said, and emptied one of the five-gallon tins
into the fuel tank.
He went into the cabin again and reappeared with two life preservers.
“It’s lucky the law requires all sail and motor craft to carry these
things. Better slip into one—I’ll put on the other.”
Dorothy lifted her eyebrows questioningly. “Think we’re liable to get
wrecked?”
“Nothing like that—but a life preserver is great stuff when it comes to
stopping bullets.”
“Gee, Bill, do you really expect a scrap? There isn’t a sign of the
motor sailor yet.”
“I know—but they’re out here somewhere, just the same. Neither of us is
showing lights, so in this weather we’re not likely to spot each other
unless our boats get pretty close. And if they do, those hyenas won’t
hesitate to shoot! Here, let me give you a hand.”
Having put on the life preservers over their dripping slickers, they sat
down and waited. The wind was freshening. A strong, steady draft blew
out of the northeast and it was gradually growing colder. The rain had
turned into sleet, fine and driving, but not thick enough to entirely
obscure the atmosphere.
“Good gracious, Bill—_sleet!_ That’s the limit, really—do you suppose
we’ll ever sight the ship through this?” Dorothy’s tone was thoroughly
disgusted.
“Oh, yes,” he replied cheerfully, “this isn’t so bad. Her masthead
lights should have a visibility of two or three miles, at least.”
Dorothy said nothing, but, hands thrust deep into her pockets and with
shoulders hunched, she stared moodily out to sea.
For about an hour they drifted, the broad-beamed motor boat wallowing in
the chop which crossed the ground swell. Twice Bill started the motor
and worked back to their original position. He did not like the look of
things, but said nothing to Dorothy about it. The wind grew stronger and
seemed to promise a gale. The low tide with the line of breakers across
the mouth of the inlet would effectually bar their entrance to Great
South Bay for the next ten hours. And he doubted if they would have
enough fuel for the run of nearly fifty miles to the shelter of
Gravesend Bay.
Then as they floundered about, he heard the distant, muffled bellow of a
big ship’s foghorn. Again it sounded; and twice more, each time coming
closer. Bill started the engine and headed cautiously out in the
direction from whence it came.
Suddenly there sounded a blast startlingly close to the Mary Jane. This
was answered from the lightship, and through the flying scud and sleet
they saw a vivid glare. Bill put his helm hard over and when the steamer
had passed about four hundred yards away, he turned the motor boat again
to cut across the liner’s wake. Faint streams of music reached their
ears emphasizing the dreariness of their position.
Directly they were astern of the great ship, he swung the Mary Jane into
the steamer’s course. Running straight before the wind, it was easy to
follow the sudsy brine that eddied in her wake. He was by no means
certain, however, that he could keep the dull glow of her taffrail light
in sight. That depended upon the liner’s speed, which might be more than
the Mary Jane could develop. But he soon discovered he had either
underestimated the power of the motor boat or, what was more probable,
the steamer had reduced her own. Before long he was obliged to slow down
to keep from overhauling.
And so for nearly an hour they tagged along, astern, keeping a sharp
lookout on the band of swirling water. Little by little their spirits
sank, as no floating object appeared to reward their perseverance. The
weather was becoming worse and worse, but the sea was not troublesome;
partly because the Mary Jane was running before it and partly because
the great bulk of the liner ahead flattened it out in her displacement.
“If this keeps on much longer, we’re going to run short of gas,” said
Dorothy, still peering ahead. “Any idea how long it _will_ keep up?”
Bill shrugged and swung the boat’s head over a point.
“Not the dimmest. I’m beginning to wonder if we’ll have to follow her
all the way to the pilot station and then cut across for Gravesend Bay.”
“We’ll sure be out of luck if we run out of fuel with this wind backing
into the northwest. It will blow us clean out to sea!”
“Take the wheel!” said Bill abruptly. “I’m going to see where we stand.”
Dorothy, with her hands on the spokes, saw him measure the gasoline in
the tank and then shake his head.
“How about it?” she called.
“Not so good,” he growled, and poured in the contents of another tin.
“This engine is powerful, but when you say it’s primitive, you only tell
the half of it. The darn thing laps up gas like a—”
“_Bill!_” Dorothy raised her arm—“there’s another motor boat ahead!”
Both of them stared forward into the gloom. For a moment Bill could see
nothing but the seething waters and the faint glimmer of the liner’s
taffrail light. Then in an eddy of the driving sleet he caught a glimpse
of a dark bulk rising on a swell a couple of hundred yards ahead. At the
same time they both heard the whir of a rapidly revolving motor
distinctly audible between the staccato barks of their own exhaust.
“The motor sailor, Bill!”
“Sure to be. It must have cut in close under the steamer’s stern. Let me
take the wheel again, Dorothy.”
“O. K. Do you think they’ve seen us?”
“Not likely. They’ll be watching the ship and her wake. To see us,
they’d have to stare straight into the teeth of the wind and this
blinding sleet.”
“But they’ll hear us, anyway?”
“Not a chance. That motor sailor’s got one of those fast-turning
jump-spark engines. They run with a steady rattle. There’s no interval
between coughs. Ours are more widely punctuated. Anyhow, that’s the way
I dope it. They’ve probably signaled the ship by this time, and the
contraband ought to be dropped from a cabin port at any time now.”
“Got a plan?”
“I think I have.”
He gave the boat full gas, then a couple of spokes of the wheel sheered
her off to starboard.
“What’s that for?” Dorothy thought he had decided to give up the
attempt. “Not quitting, are we?”
“What do you take me for? Get out that gun of yours and use your wits.
I’m goin’ to loop that craft and bear down on them from abeam. If they
beat it, O. K. If they don’t, we’ll take a chance on crashing them!”
“You tell ’em, boy!” Dorothy had caught his excitement. “If they shoot,
I’ll fire at the flashes!”
Bill was working out his plan in detail and did not reply. He felt sure
his scheme was sound. The Mary Jane was heavily built, broad of beam,
with bluff bows and low freeboard. The motor sailor was a staunch craft,
too, but she was not decked and with a load of but two men aboard she
would have no great stability. He was certain that if he could work out
and make his turn so as to bear down upon her from a little forward of
the beam, striking her amidships with the swell of his starboard bow,
she would crack like an egg.
Bill did not dare risk a head-on ram. That might capsize them both. To
cut into her broadside at the speed she was making would possibly tear
off or open up his own bows. The Mary Jane must strike her a heavy but a
glancing blow at an angle of about forty-five degrees. Such a collision
meant taking a big chance with their own boat. But the Mary Jane was
half-decked forward and the flare of her run would take the shock on the
level of her sheer strake.
Quickly he explained his project.
“I’m taking a chance, of course, if I don’t hit her right,” he finished.
“Go ahead—” she flung back. “I’m all for it!”
Bill grinned at her enthusiasm, and with the engine running full, he
started to edge off and work ahead. But he could not help being
impatient at the thought that the contraband might be dropped at any
minute and hooked up by the others. He took too close a turn. As the
Mary Jane hauled abreast about two hundred yards ahead, the smugglers
sighted them. Their motor sailor swerved sharply to port, and with a
sudden acceleration, it dived into the gloom and was lost to sight.
“Bluffed off!” he shouted triumphantly.
He turned the wheel and was swinging back into the liner’s wake when
Dorothy gave a cry and pointed to the water off their port quarter.
“Look! There! _There!_” she screamed.
Staring in the same direction, Bill saw what at first he took to be a
number of small puffs of spume. Then he saw that they were rectangular.
The Mary Jane had already passed them and a second later they
disappeared from view.
Bill nearly twisted off the wheel in an effort to put about immediately.
The result was to slow down and nearly stop their heavy boat. Gradually
the Mary Jane answered her helm and presently they were headed back in
the ship’s path.
And then as the Mary Jane was again gathering speed, the motor sailor
came slipping out of the smother headed straight for the contraband, her
broadside presented toward her pursuers.
“Stand by for a ram!” yelled Bill and pulled out his automatic.
Not fifty yards separated the two boats. Bows to the gale, the Mary Jane
bore down on the motor sailor. If those aboard her realized their
danger, they had no time to dodge, to shoot ahead, or avoid the ram by
going hard astern. They swerved and the Mary Jane struck full amidships
with a fearful grinding crash.
Bill caught a glimpse of two figures and saw the flame streak out from
their barking guns. He felt a violent tug at his life preserver. Then a
yell rang out and the two boats ground together in the heave of the
angry sea.
Steadying himself with a hand on the wheel, he reversed and his boat
hauled away. As she backed off he heard the choking cough of the other
craft which had now been blotted out by the darkness and driving sleet.
Bill turned about with a triumphant cry on his lips, then checked it
suddenly as he saw that Dorothy had fallen across the coaming and was
lying halfway out of the boat.