MAROONED
To say the least, Mike Murphy was much disquieted when the engine of the
_Deerfoot_ stopped dead and the boat began drifting in the darkness, no
one could say whither. Not knowing the right thing to do, he seized hold
of the fly-wheel, swung it back and forth and part way round, and then
suddenly let go, as he had seen Alvin Landon do many times. Since there
was no fuel in the tank, it need not be said that this effort was
fruitless.
"Whew!" he exclaimed at last as he straightened up; "if there was
somebody here to tell me the right thing to do I'd do the same mighty
quick, but this part of my eddycation was niglicted, as me grandmither
said when the taicher asked her if she knowed the alphabet.
"I 'spose now that there be lots of handles which if I turned 'em the
right way would start this old thing, but if I swung 'em the wrong
way--as I'd be sure to do--I'd bust her b'iler. So I'll not try."
He sat down in one of the chairs to think, and his musings ran riot, but
the end was always the same: it was utterly beyond his power to help
himself out of the dilemma.
"I'll have to drift and drift till morning comes; then if I'm not too
fur out on the ocean somebody will pick me up. I'm thinking the same is
a good idee to lay low, as me cousin remarked whin he was knocked down.
Some boat is likely to run into me 'cause I haven't any lights burning,
and as she's going by I'll grab her--whisht! phwat's that?" he asked
himself, with a new thrill of alarm.
The sound that had startled him was a distinct jar of the boat. At that
moment, it was so dark he could not see beyond the flag at the bow of
the launch. Nothing amiss was discerned in that direction, but a second
bump caused him to glance to the left, and then he received the answer
to his question.
The boat had drifted against a pile of rocks, which come down to the
edge of the sea on one of the two little uninhabited masses of sand and
stones, known as the White Islands. This was the northern one, opposite
Fisherman Island, from which it is separated by more than a mile of the
sea.
The sudden discovery rattled Mike for the moment and caused him to do a
foolish thing, which he never would have done had he taken a half minute
for reflection. His dread was that the boat would be battered to pieces
on the rocks. With no thought of his own safety, he sprang from the
cockpit, placed one foot on the gunwale and leaped as far as he could,
his purpose being to push the craft clear. With all his strength--and he
possessed a good deal of it--he barely succeeded. He fell on his face
and knees, and had he not clutched desperately and seized a craggy point
he would have slipped back into the water.
What he ought to have done, as he recalled the next instant, was to use
the pole on the boat to press against the rocks and shove the launch
clear. That would have been easy and effective, but it was too late now
to think of it.
The reactive force of his body as he leaped drove the boat back
perceptibly. Inasmuch as the current had swept it forward in the first
place, the action would have been repeated but for a curious condition
which quickly showed itself. Had the boat struck farther south, its
return after being forced away would have occurred. Had it first drifted
farther north it would have cleared the islet altogether, and continued
floating toward the lower end of Southport, but it so came about that
when the current regained control of the launch and shoved it westward
again, it just cleared the northern end of the mass of rocks and was
swallowed up in the enshrouding gloom.
Mike Murphy stumbled as near as he could to the _Deerfoot_ and stared
out in the darkness. A moment after it disappeared a partial clearing of
the clouds in front of the moon brought it dimly into sight again. This
lasted but a brief interval when it vanished for good.
"Good-by," called the lad. "I did the best fur ye that I knowed, and
now ye must take care of yersilf, which the same has to be done by Mike
Murphy."
The youth was a philosopher, and with his rugged health and naturally
buoyant spirits he took the rosiest view he could of his situation. It
was clear that in more than one respect he was better off on this mass
of rocks and sand than in the launch--that is, during the darkness. So
long as he was afloat with no lights burning, he was in great danger of
being run down by some larger boat. In the event of such a calamity he
was liable to be caught in a crush where his life preserver could not
save him.
But no such fate could overtake the lad while on the islet. The
_Mauretania_ or _Lusitania_ or even the _Olympic_ could not run into
that collection of rocks and sand without getting the worst of it.
Now, as has been shown, Mike was really safer where he had landed, for
no harm could come to him on White Island, yet his situation was
anything but pleasant. He was marooned and could not leave his ocean
prison without help. There was little hope of anything of the kind so
long as night remained with him, but the morrow ought to bring rescue.
Until then he must content himself as best he could.
But he was not the one to sit down with folded hands. Nature had gifted
him with a powerful voice and he fancied he might turn it to use. A
twinkling light gliding or bobbing over the water here and there showed
that not all the world was asleep. His own experience told him he had
neighbors. Accordingly he lifted up his voice and shouted with might and
main:
"Hilp! hilp! somebody come to me hilp!"
He directed the tones toward different points of the compass, but a half
hour passed, during which perforce he often rested, without any sign of
success. And then he was thrilled by what resembled a lantern, twinkling
from the direction of the Hypocrites to the westward. He renewed his
call, and to add force to it, waved his arms and danced up and down on
the rock to whose top he had climbed, though of course such antics were
of no help.
Fifteen minutes removed all doubt. The light, sinking and falling with
the moderate waves, was drawing nearer. Although his voice had grown
husky, he spared it not.
"Right this way! Don't be afeard! I won't hurt ye! Hurry up, ye
spalpeens!"
A hundred yards or so off--too far for him to see the boat or its
occupants--the rowers paused. From out the gloom came the call:
"Hello there! what's the matter?"
"I'm shipwrecked! Come and take me off!"
The words must have sounded suspicious to those for whom they were
intended.
"How came you to be cast away?"
"I landed here awhile ago and when I warn't looking me owld boat slipped
from me, bad cess to her!"
This was less satisfactory to the two men, who were probably robbing
lobster pots. They talked together for a few minutes, though the anxious
listener could not hear what they said.
"What boat was it?" asked the one who acted as spokesman.
"The _Deerfut_--a motor boat that b'longs to me friend Alvin Landon,
whose dad owns half the city of New York. He'll give ye a million
dollars fur taking care of Mike Murphy, which is mesilf."
This announcement had an altogether different effect from what the youth
expected.
"If you're worth that much we'll let some one else earn the money. Good
night!"
It was an act of wanton cruelty, but it is a fact none the less that the
couple closed their ears to the appeal and rowed away in the darkness.
When certain that they were deserting him Mike changed the tenor of his
prayer and urged them to come back long enough to receive the
chastisement he was aching to give them.
It was a bitter disappointment, but the lad felt he had more cause to be
grateful to heaven that he had to repine.
"I may as well make up me mind to stay here a bit, as Jim O'Toole said
whin he begun his ten years sintence in jail. The weather is mild, and
though it looks like rain I don't think it will come yet awhile. I'll
saak me couch and go to sleep."
The danger of bruises from a fall prevented his groping long for
shelter. Exposed to the open sea the islet was swept by a gentle breeze
which brought the ocean's coolness with it. After much care and
patience, he found a place where he was quite well screened. Passing his
hands over the rough surface, he said with a touch of his waggishness
which seemed never to leave him:
"This is softer than anywhere ilse, as me mother said whin she took her
hands out of the dough and laid 'em on me head."
Mike never forgot his prayers, and when he lay down he was in a thankful
frame of mind despite the trying experiences through which he had
passed. Quite soon he was sleeping as profoundly as if in his bed at
home. Such is the reward of good habits and right living.
The night must have been well along when he sank into unconsciousness.
That his tired body needed the rest was proved by the fact that he did
not open his eyes until half the next day was past. He felt stiff and
cramped from lying so long on his hard couch, and it was several minutes
before he recalled all the events of the preceding day and night.
Climbing to the top of the highest rock he gazed out over the waters. He
felt no concern for the _Deerfoot_, which had played him the shabby
trick, for if he saw it he could expect nothing from it. His most
poignant consciousness was that he never was so hungry in his life. He
could not recall that he had ever gone without food so long, and his
craving gave him more anxiety than did the future.
In whichever direction he turned his gaze he saw small boats, schooners,
brigs, steamers and various kinds of vessels, most of them too far off
for him to hope to attract their attention. The nearest was a schooner,
more than a mile away and gliding northward. It so happened that much
the larger number of craft were heading outward. Mike shrewdly
reflected:
"If they pick me up they'll niver turn round to take me home, but will
speed away to the ither side of the world. I must catch one of 'em
that's coming in, so he won't lose time in giving me a lift."
He picked his way to the southern end of the islet, where a broad sweep
of water separated him from the other bit of land, and gazed out over
the vast Atlantic which swept from horizon to horizon.
"I would display a flag of distriss on the top of a pole, if it warn't
fur two raisons. The first is I haven't any pole to erict on these
rocks, and the ither is that I'd have to use me own clothes for the
flag, which the same would be apt to drive away all hilp."
Mike Murphy cut a strange figure, dancing, shouting, swinging his arms
and waving his cap, but sad to say not a solitary person seemed to see
him, or else he not did think it worth while to give further attention
to the marooned youth.
"It looks loike it will be a failure, as Tim Ryan said whin he tried to
throw the prize bull over a stone wall."
Accordingly, Mike returned to the upper end of the islet to learn
whether any hope lay in that direction. His growing fear was that he was
in danger of starving to death.
"Anither night will doot," he said, despairing for the moment--"PHWAT!"
The first look northward showed him the _Deerfoot_, speeding past barely
a fourth of a mile distant. Had he not spent so much time at the other
end of his refuge he would have observed her long before.
He stood for a spell unable to believe the evidence of his senses. Then,
when the glorious truth burst upon him, he uttered the words that have
already been recorded.