THE FIGHT ON THE DERELICT.
The lieutenant and the crew of the whaleboat, at first aghast with
horror and amazement, speedily recovered their wits.
Springing to his feet, the officer made a grasp for the dangling rope.
Before he could reach it, a long wave swept along the rolling hull and
caught the whaleboat upon its crest.
There was a surge and a violent wrench, and over went the luckless
officer headlong into the sea. The frail craft was swept under the
sloping stem, dashed once against the hull, and then it capsized,
throwing the whole crew into the water.
All this was witnessed by the _Monongahela’s_ crew, and excitement
reigned on board.
Captain Brookes took personal charge of affairs, and under his able
direction two boats, the cutter and sailing launch, were lowered and
manned.
In the latter went Trolley and Joy, both managing to slip aboard during
the excitement.
As yet the full extent of the tragedy was not known. Clif had been seen
to climb over the railing, but the unearthly cry and the appeal for
help had not reached the practice ship. Then came the capsizing of the
whaleboat, and the instant necessity of action.
Lieutenant Watson took command of the cutter, which was the faster of
the two. He was an able man, and he soon had the crew bending to their
oars.
The gale was now a thing of the past; and the sea was rapidly
subsiding. Clear skies overhead, and a brightly shining sun robbed the
scene of much of its former grewsomeness.
In the sailing launch Trolley and Joy were laboring with might and
main, as indeed all were. But the two young plebes had an added
interest in reaching the strange derelict from the fact that Clif
Faraday, their friend and chum, was on board the craft whence those
horrible cries had come.
It was not long before the cutter reached the capsized whaleboat.
Clinging to the keel were five of the crew. They were instantly
dragged on board and a start made for the stern of the derelict.
The lieutenant and the rest of the crew were either swimming in that
vicinity or holding on to the rudder.
The rather clumsy launch dashed up in time to rescue the officer, who
had managed to keep himself afloat by strenuous efforts. As he was
lifted over the side by willing hands, he gasped, hurriedly:
“Quick! board that vessel. Faraday is there, and he is in trouble.”
Trolley exclaimed something in Japanese, and sprang to his feet. Nimbly
stepping forward, he made a flying leap from the launch’s bow, and
caught the rope dangling from the derelict’s stern.
“Stop!” sternly cried the officer in charge. “Wait until you are
ordered to leave the boat.”
But the young Japanese paid no heed to the words. The impetus caused
by the leap sent him swinging and scraping along the slimy side of the
strange craft, but he drew himself up inch by inch, and finally gained
the rail.
“Stand by to catch a rope,” called out the lieutenant, making the best
of the situation. “Make it fast to---- What’s the matter?”
Splash!
It was Trolley. The Japanese youth had suddenly turned, and, with a
shriek of fear, had plunged headlong into the sea.
The crews of the cutter, launch and whaleboat exchanged glances of
undeniable terror. Several seamen began shoving the boats away from the
derelict with their oars.
“Belay that!” shouted Lieutenant Watson, in a rage. “Aboard the launch!
pick up that cadet, and stand by to board. Here, Brown, steady this
rope. I’ll see what’s up on this confounded craft.”
The last words were addressed to the coxswain, who instantly grasped
the lower bight of the line and held it while the fearless officer
ascended. Halfway to the top he held himself with one hand, and
loosened his sword in its scabbard with the other. Then he began again
to draw himself upward.
His progress was watched with breathless interest below. Suddenly the
officer in charge of the sailing launch gave a muttered order. The crew
fell to the oars and the launch dashed ahead toward the bow.
In the meantime, Trolley, dripping wet and evidently badly frightened,
had been dragged from the water. His teeth were chattering, and his
face had assumed a grayish pallor.
“For Heaven’s sake, what’s the matter up there?” queried Joy, in a
frenzy of excitement. “Speak! where is Clif?”
The Japanese youth crouched in the bottom of the boat and muttered and
shook his head like one demented.
Suddenly all eyes were drawn to the railing above by the horrible,
unearthly cry first heard during the gale. It rang out with such
blood-curdling intensity that the faces of the listeners blanched.
“We haven’t any business fooling here!” hoarsely muttered one of the
oarsmen. “This consarned _Flying Dutchman_ is ha’nted. I move we git as
fast as we can.”
“And leave Faraday and Lieutenant Watson behind?” fiercely demanded
Joy. “That’s a fine suggestion.”
Just then the sailing launch reached the bow. A quick scrutiny revealed
several broken bolts and beam ends where the bowsprit and stays had
been torn away. A fragment of chain was hanging down and swinging with
a harsh, grating sound against the side.
“Climb up there, one of you,” called out the officer in charge.
Joy, who was nearest started to obey, but before he could leave the
boat a prodigious hubbub came from aft.
Looking in that direction he saw Lieutenant Watson striking fiercely
with his sword at something behind the rails.
An indescribable pandemonium came from the deck. Harsh cries and
groans, wild shrieks, moans and a queer grunting sound which seemed
more unearthly than all the rest.
One of the cutter’s crew was climbing the rope as fast as his arms
could lift him, and another was preparing to follow.
Almost frantic with excitement, Joy fairly scaled the bow of the
derelict. As his hand touched the broken rail, he heard the heavy
breathing beneath him. A familiar voice gasped:
“Hurry, hurry, Joy! Me want to come, too. Hurry! I no afraid any more,
even if I see plenty devil. Quick!”
The next moment Joy threw one leg over the bulwark and dropped to the
deck. Then, with eyes bulging and face whitened to the color of chalk,
he turned to spring back over the side.
Trolley grasped him by the arms and held him against the rail. A sailor
appeared above the level of the deck, took one glance, then vanished. A
sullen splash proclaimed his destination.
Joy’s fright faded by degrees. Finally he again looked down the deck
over the little house-like structure amidships. What he saw was this:
Up on the high after, or cabin deck, were four horribly grotesque
figures. One was a giant negro, coal black in color, and almost devoid
of clothing.
Tied around his middle was a simple strip of some animal’s skin. His
hair was long and matted. His mouth savage in its brutal gaping. His
narrow eyes fierce and bloodshot. He was bleeding from a great wound,
evidently just given him by Lieutenant Watson, who had retreated to the
extreme after rail.
With the maniac, for such he seemed to be, were three monster apes,
almost as large as a man. They were leaping about with appalling
nimbleness, and uttering strange, blood-curdling, half-human cries.
Lying huddled in the port scupper was Clif, apparently dead. His
uniform had been rent in tatters, and a little rivulet of blood
trickled back and forth upon the deck near him as the derelict pitched
and rolled.
This much Joy and Trolley saw, then one of the apes caught sight of
them.
The monster uttered a cry of rage, and, snatching up a fragment of spar
from the deck, advanced upon them. It leaped with great agility, from
the high after deck to the midship house, and then, still uttering its
horrible screams, sprang upon the forecastle.
But by that time the two plebes had received reinforcements. The
lieutenant in charge of the launch appeared over the railing, and,
after the first gasp of surprise, ordered his men on board.
When the latter caught sight of the giant, gorilla-like ape advancing,
there was a panic, but a stern word from the officer held the seamen
and cadets to their duty.
Joy let fly with a belaying pin he had picked up, and it caught the
monster squarely in the face, staggering him. The advantage was
followed by the lieutenant without loss of time.
Springing forward with drawn sword, he lunged out, sending the point of
the sharp blade into the ape’s breast.
There was a horrible scream of agony as the animal fell to the deck, a
snap of the sword as it broke, then, after a few convulsive shudders,
there was one foe the less.
In the meantime a prodigious hubbub from aft indicated action in that
direction.
When the victorious crew of the launch started aft they saw that
Lieutenant Watson had also received reinforcements. But it was plain
that still others were needed.
The giant negro was fighting with maniacal fury. And the two apes were
following his example so fiercely that the executive officer and his
six companions were hard pressed to keep their ground.
The appearance of the launch’s crew changed affairs at once, however.
Armed with cutlasses, belaying pins and cudgels, they fell upon the
negro and his animal companions and, after a brief but desperate
combat, forced them to retreat.
The maniac fought his way forward. As he was being pursued he sprang
upon the port bulwark and, with a wild, chattering cry, leaped
overboard.
A rush was made to the side, but all that remained to reveal the fate
of the negro were a few bubbles and a widening circle of ripples. He
had gone to his death.
The two apes were writhing upon the deck in their last agony. As the
men turned back, they expired.
Trolley and Joy quickly kneeled at the side of Clif. Their faces showed
their grief and anxiety. A hasty examination brought a whoop of joy
from the Jap.
“He live,” he shouted. “Hurray! he no dead. Get water. Clif no die yet.
Whoop!”
Lieutenant Watson, bleeding and exhausted, bent over the unconscious
lad, and, with the aid of a flask of whiskey, from the launch’s
medicine chest, soon brought a sigh from Clif’s lips.
He came to with a start and a gasp of terror. The latter emotion was
so real that it required considerable effort to soothe him. When he at
last realized the true state of affairs, his relief was manifest.
“Trolley,” he said, tremulously, “I--I thought it was the other world,
and I had taken the toboggan slide by mistake.”
“You all right,” grinned the Japanese youth. “Hurray! It take plenty
kill you.”
Clif managed to stand erect after his wound, a lacerated incision in
the shoulder given by one of the apes, had been attended to.
Lieutenant Watson and the other officers made an inspection of the
strange craft, and found evidences to prove that she had originally
done duty as a primitive lightship in some southern Mediterranean port,
presumably in Algeria.
“I am more inclined to think so from the fact that we found that
African negro and the apes on board,” said the executive officer, as
they returned from below. “I think I understand matters now. This negro
was evidently an attendant on board, and the apes were pets.”
“It’s customary to have them on ships in those ports,” spoke up one of
the officers.
“Yes. Well, the lightship evidently got adrift during a storm and was
blown to sea, through the Gut of Gibraltar.”
“And afterward became a derelict in the Sargasso Sea. I noticed certain
marine fungi and seaweed on the hull which are only found in the
Sargasso.”
“True. This ship probably drifted back and forth for months. All the
crew died except the negro, and he was made insane by his surroundings.
It’s a strange story.”
“Only another mystery of the sea,” said the lieutenant in charge of
the launch, looking about decks. “Now the question is, what will we do
with her?”
“Have a little target practice and send her down to where all derelicts
belong--the bottom,” replied Lieutenant Watson, grimly.
“I may add one thing,” he continued. “I hope never to have such a
terrible experience again.”
“Amen!” muttered Clif, tenderly feeling his wounds.
Three hours later a well-aimed shot from one of the _Monongahela’s_
guns sent the shattered hull of the mysterious derelict down to its
last resting place.
The practice ship stood away on her course, and her crew of naval
cadets speedily forgot the episode in the excitement of other
experiences.