IN THE LINER'S PATH
For several hours now the air had seemed very close and oppressive, and
the experienced captain of the _Northland_ felt, through some mysterious
sixth sense born of long experience, that a storm was brewing. You may
be sure that he gave the matter a good deal more thought than the
reckless group of high-spirited boys on board, who would have been
satisfied with any kind of weather that came along, provided it gave
them a little diversion and excitement. Indeed, it may be that they
would even have looked on a shipwreck as something rather pleasant than
otherwise, and have regarded it as an ideal chance for adventure.
One reads much in books of the romantic side of shipwreck, but the
horrors and privations of such an experience are glossed over. It is
safe to say that anyone who has once gone through such a catastrophe
will have no desire to repeat it.
Along toward dusk of their second day out, the sky became very overcast,
and a gradual drop in the temperature occurred. Of course, the captain
and officers were besieged with questions regarding the cause of this,
and they had no difficulty in explaining.
"You see," said Captain Everett, unconsciously assuming the pose of a
lecturer, "we are now approaching the Grand Banks of Newfoundland, and
getting near the ice regions further north. The comparatively near
presence of these icebergs naturally cools the air somewhat, and that
accounts for the lower temperature we all feel."
"I've read somewhere," remarked Tom, "that the ice is responsible for
the frequent fogs found in this section of the map, but I must confess I
could never quite figure out why."
"Oh, that's on account of the ice melting so fast in the warmer air,"
explained the captain, "it gives off a thick mist, and when the air is
so warm that the ice melts fast enough, it forms a very dense fog. I've
read a lot about London fogs, and seen 'em, too, but they can't hold a
candle to the fogs you run into on the Banks. And from the way things
look now, I rather think you're going to have a chance to judge for
yourselves."
Indeed, it was as the captain said. In the distance was what looked to
be a low-lying island, but they were assured that it was in reality a
fog bank, lying close to the water. It drifted nearer and nearer, and
before they knew it had begun to envelop the ship. First they were
conscious of a damp, cold feeling in the air, and then gradually nearby
objects grew less and less distinct.
"Say, fellows," laughed Dick, "I think we'd better get some rope and tie
ourselves together before it's too late. We're not going to be able to
see each other very long, if this keeps up."
"Righto!" responded Bert. "Why, I can hardly see my own hand now, and
for all I know my feet may have walked off on their own hook and got
lost in this infernal mist. I can't see them, at any rate."
"Gee, I hope they haven't, old top," said Tom. "I'm afraid it might be
rather an inconvenience to you to lose them just now. It will be quite a
handicap when you try to run a few days from now, don't you think?"
"Oh, I don't know. I think I could run about as fast on my hands as you
could on your feet," retorted Bert, and turned the laugh against Tom.
But by now it was really impossible to see objects more than five feet
away, and the boys had to grope their way about with outstretched hands,
like so many blind persons. After a while somebody started a game of
"blind-man's tag," as they christened it. The one who was "it" had to
locate the others by sound, and when he thought he had done so would
make a wild rush in the general direction of the noise. Then there
would be a wild scramble to get out of his way, and more than one
laughing athlete was sent sprawling in a head-on collision. They kept
this up till they were tired, and then dropped down on the deck to rest
and listen to the yarns of the sailors. Naturally these tales were all
about troubles at sea due to fogs, and many a weird story was told that
stamped the teller as an inventive genius. Each one tried to crowd more
exciting events into his tale than the last narrator, and the result was
lurid.
Of course, in most of the stories some part was based on an actual
occurrence, but to sift out the truth was like looking for the
proverbial needle in a haystack. However, these old tars were past
masters at the art, and there is no doubt that they made their stories
interesting. The boys listened with great interest, now and then putting
in a question when it seemed needed.
Mermaids and sea serpents abound in many of these yarns, and, as Bert
afterward remarked, "seemed commoner than squirrels in a park." But they
passed the time away very pleasantly, and before the boys realized it,
Reddy was among them, commanding, "Off with ye now, and get a good
night's rest. Ye should have all been in bed a good half-hour ago."
Of course there was no resisting this mandate, even had they been so
inclined, so off to bed they went, groping and stumbling through the
fog, that by this time had grown dense almost beyond belief.
"Good-night!" exclaimed Tom, as he tripped over a coil of rope and then
slipped on the slippery deck. "I only hope this old tub doesn't go
ramming any icebergs the way the old _Titanic_ did a little while ago.
Mermaids may be all right in stories, but I don't care to make their
acquaintance under water just yet a while."
"No, I think I can pike along a little while longer without a closer
acquaintance," laughed Bert, "and also without seeing any hundred-foot
sea serpents in their native element. Why, according to the stories
we've just been swallowing, one of those fellows could twine himself
around the Woolworth Building and wave his head over the roof without
half trying."
"Without a doubt," said Dick, "and I imagine it would be rather
embarrassing to look up and find one gazing at you through the
skylight."
"I wouldn't be a bit surprised," said Bert. "However, I guess we won't
lie awake very long to-night worrying about it."
"Righto!" acquiesced Dick, and with a few more remarks along the same
line they descended the steep cabin companionway. It was a relief to get
out of the dense, clammy fog, and you may be sure the dry, comfortable
berths felt very grateful to the tired athletes. In less time than it
takes to tell, they had all dropped off into deep slumber.
It seemed but a few moments later when Dick found himself sitting
bolt upright in his berth, with a vague but none the less terrifying
sensation that something terrible had happened. At first he thought he
must have been dreaming, but a moment later shouts and cries on deck
dispelled this idea. Dick hastily awakened Bert and Tom and all three
bounded up on deck, where they found everything in confusion.
As they emerged from the companionway hatch they saw that the fog still
held, thicker, if that were possible, than when they had gone below. The
captain was shouting orders from the bridge, and members of the crew
were scurrying wildly here and there across the slippery decks.
The ship's engines had been stopped, as they could tell by the absence
of vibration, but it was several minutes before they could get hold of
anybody to tell them what was amiss. Finally, however, they managed to
stop one of the crew long enough to be told that they had rammed what
appeared to be a fishing schooner, and that the latter was sinking fast.
Then the sailor hurried off on his interrupted errand, and the three
boys dashed forward to the bows, where most of the excitement seemed to
be.
As they drew nearer the forward part of the vessel they were able to see
grotesque figures, distorted by the fog, hurrying to and fro. Soon, as
their eyes became accustomed more and more to the dim light of lanterns,
they could make out the outline of the mast and rigging of a sailing
vessel close against the side of their own ship.
Up this rigging men were climbing swiftly, and jumping on to the deck of
the _Northland_. Already there was a group of eight strange sailors
standing there, with more coming all the time. Even as the boys watched,
however, the mast of the sailing vessel gave a great lurch, and a cry
went up from everybody watching.
"For the Lord's sake, hurry!" went up a shout from those on the stricken
vessel. "She's sinking beneath our feet. Jump lively there!"
By the light of the binnacle lamp on the sinking vessel could be seen
the sturdy figure of her captain, standing immovable and calm and giving
orders as coolly as though he were not in the slightest danger.
According to the unwritten law of the sea, a captain may not leave his
ship until all his crew are off, and it was plain that this man would be
staunch to the end.
It became evident that the doomed vessel was sinking fast, and there
were still several men on her deck waiting their turn to climb the
rigging to safety. Could they possibly get up before the ship
foundered?--that was the question.
The mast sank lower and lower, until the last sailor up had to be
grasped by friendly outstretched arms and dragged over the rail. There
was now no reason for the captain to stay on deck, and seeing this, he
made a dash for the mast. But he was a second too late. The waves for
several minutes had been lapping at the decks of the doomed craft, which
lay at a sharp angle to the water, and now with a sickening lurch it
dived under the waves, taking its devoted captain with it.
"Lower a boat, there! Lower a boat," vociferated the captain of the
_Northland_, and the crew hastened to obey. In an incredibly short time
two boats had been manned and lowered, and began cruising about over the
spot where the vessel had sunk. In that dense fog, however, there seemed
little hope of ever again seeing the heroic captain, and they were just
on the point of giving up the search and returning to their ship when
suddenly they heard what seemed to be a faint shout for help out of the
fog about fifty yards from them. They rowed toward the sound, after
shouting back encouragingly, and it was not long before they made out
the figure of a man struggling stoutly in the icy water.
In less time than it takes to tell they had fished him out, and started
rowing back to the steamer. Soon they were on board, and were accorded a
royal reception by the assembled passengers and crew, all of whom were
by this time on deck.
The man whom they had picked up proved to be the captain of the
foundered vessel, and everybody crowded forward to shake his hand and
congratulate him on his escape.
But now Captain Everett pressed through the crowd, and after greeting
the unfortunate skipper and expressing his deep regret over the
accident, hustled him off to his cabin. Here he was wrapped in blankets,
and served with boiling hot coffee.
After he had recovered his strength somewhat, he proceeded to give his
account of the accident.
"We had a lucky day yesterday," he said, "and were anchored over the
same spot, intending to start in again early the next morning. Most of
the crew was asleep, and on account of this cursed fog our lookout was
unable to see your vessel until it was too late to give warning. But
fortunately, every body was saved, and as the ship was fully insured,
matters might have been much worse, I suppose."
"Yes," said Captain Everett, "we were steaming only at quarter speed, or
we would not have been able to get about in time to render you
assistance. I am very thankful that no lives were lost, which is rare
good fortune in an accident of this kind."
"It is, for a fact," responded the other, and sank into silence. He
appeared to be troubled in mind, and little wonder. Even though he were
not actually to blame for the disaster, as of course he was not, still
he knew that his employers would hold him responsible. And there is
probably no other profession in the world where a clear record is more
highly prized than in seafaring.
However, under the cheerful influence of the cabin table his depression
seemed to lighten somewhat, and he joined in the general conversation.
He proved to be a man of some education and widely varied experience,
and he recounted many tales of peril by sea.
It was late before the party broke up, and the unfortunate mariner was
shown to his cabin. He and the members of his rescued crew stayed on the
_Northland_ several days, but then a homeward bound vessel was hailed
and they were placed on board. There were hearty leave-takings on both
sides, with mutual expressions of regret.
As the ships rapidly drew apart, the captain and crew of the sunken
sailing vessel lined the rail, and waved to the athletes until their
figures became indistinguishable.
"Well," remarked Bert, as they turned away. "That was an occurrence that
we won't forget in quite some time, I guess."
"Bet your life it was," agreed Tom. "It isn't every voyage that we get
the chance to do the rescue stunt like that."
"Which is a very fortunate thing," remarked Dick. "It's all right for
us, and gives us a lot of excitement, but it's not much fun for the poor
fellows that get wrecked. Here's their vessel, which they probably
thought a lot of, as all sailors do, gone, and their employment with it,
for the time at least. And that's saying nothing of the close approach
to death which they had. I think I'd rather pursue some other occupation
than that of the sea. You have too many chances of making a personal
visit to the well known Mr. Davy Jones."
"Righto," agreed Tom, with a twinkle in his eye. "I'd rather do
something safe, like running a sixty-horsepower automobile at the rate
of eighty miles an hour, or some other little amusement like that,
wouldn't you, Bert?"
"Oh, of course," grinned Bert, "there's no doubt that that's the safest
thing in the world to do. You never hear of anyone getting hurt doing
that, do you?"
"Certainly not," said Tom. "Why, I've even heard that doctors recommend
it to patients suffering from nervous disorders, and requiring a little
mild diversion. In fact, it's the customary thing to do."
"No doubt about it," said Bert, and then they all joined in a hearty
laugh.
After this they dispersed to their various training "stunts," which must
be gone through, wrecks or no wrecks.