A WELCOME FIND.
“Judson Greene, what is the meaning of this?”
Stern and accusing Clif faced the boy cowering at the bottom of the
launch. Judson’s face was white and he showed every evidence of guilt.
“What do you mean?” he stammered. “I don’t know what the little fool is
talking about.”
“You tell lie,” broke in Trolley, hotly. “You try do something to that
boy. You beat him.”
“Worse than that,” added Joy, equally angry. “Look at the poor kid’s
face. I’ll bet anything Greene tried to throw him off the spar to make
more room for his own worthless carcass.”
Judson maintained a sullen silence. Clif fell to soothing Nanny and
soon had him more composed.
When the youngster at last realized the truth, and saw that he was
surrounded by friends, and one of those friends Clif Faraday, he cried
for very joy.
“Oh, Clif, I can’t believe it’s true,” he sobbed. “It must be a dream,
and I will wake up and--and----”
“And you will find that it’s the finest dream you ever had, youngster,”
laughed Clif, cheerily. “You are all right, Nanny,” he added. “You
haven’t gone to Davy Jones’ locker yet. But tell us how you happened to
get on that spar, you and Greene.”
Nanny glanced at Judson and shuddered. The latter slyly threatened him
with his clinched right fist, but the action did not escape Faraday’s
eye.
Pouncing upon Greene he grasped him by the collar and jerked him to his
feet. Then forcing him against the gunwale he cried, savagely:
“If I see you do that again I’ll heave you overboard, you miserable
scamp. You have been ill treating Nanny and I’ll have the truth of it.”
“Pitch him to the sharks,” exclaimed Joy, also laying violent hands
upon the shrinking lad.
Judson was badly frightened.
“I--I--didn’t do anything to him, Faraday,” he cried, struggling to
free himself.
“Yes, you did, too,” spoke up Nanny. “When I tried to get on that spar
last night, you struck and kicked me in the face, and did your best to
make me let go. And you only stopped because you fell into the water.
Then I helped you out.”
“We throw him overboard for that,” exclaimed Trolley, fiercely. “He no
right to live.”
He advanced upon Judson so menacingly that the fellow fairly bellowed
for help.
“I’ll do anything if you spare my life,” he moaned. “Oh, Faraday, don’t
kill me. I’ll be your servant and----”
“Shut up,” roughly interrupted Clif. “We can’t execute you, you fool.
This is no time or place for heroics. None of us may live another day.”
Judson crept whimpering to the bow of the launch and lay there huddled
in a heap.
Clif glanced curiously at the fragment of spar, which was still bobbing
and tossing alongside.
“It’s not part of the _Monongahela_,” he said. “It’s from some wrecked
merchantman. What a lucky thing it happened along as it did.”
“That’s true,” agreed Nanny, earnestly. “When the collision happened I
thought I was a goner. I floundered about and was almost drowned when
I bumped against that spar.”
“There is one queer thing about it,” said Joy, reflectively. “How is it
we came across it when we have been sailing before a gale for several
hours?”
“There’s an explanation for that, chum,” replied Clif. “The wind
shifted and we followed it. I remember distinctly having to put the
launch almost about last night.”
“We go now and see if that thing is capsized ship or dead whale,” spoke
up Trolley, pointing to where the first object sighted by the boys was
still pitching sluggishly upon the long swell.
“It will not be much help to us, but we might as well sail over and
see what it is,” consented Clif, grasping the steering oar. “Shake the
reefs out and set all canvas. Judson, do something for your passage.
Haul taut that forward stay.”
While the others were at work Clif stood up in the stern of the launch
and made a careful survey of the horizon.
The sun was now fairly on its way toward the zenith, and the whole
expanse of ocean was bathed in a flood of light. Overhead a cloudless
sky spread from horizon to horizon in one glorious canopy of blue.
It was all very beautiful, but the lad turned away with a sigh. He
instinctively felt that the others looked up to him as a leader, and
the responsibility weighed heavily upon him.
That the practice ship had been driven to a considerable distance by
the gale was evident. That Captain Brookes would return and institute
a thorough search for the lost boat was equally evident. But what
hope was there that the launch--a microscopical dot on the infinite
ocean--would be found?
And if the _Monongahela_ did not turn up, what then?
There was not an ounce of food in the boat nor a drop of fresh water.
The stores with which all man-of-war crafts are supplied, had been lost
during the collision.
Clif looked toward the bow. It was shattered in the upper part and the
timbers were slightly strained. The launch was fairly seaworthy still,
but could it survive another gale?
Clif’s face was very grave as he turned his attention inboard again.
The sail was set and everything ready for proceeding onward. A course
was shaped for the distant object.
Clif glanced listlessly at it. He felt assured that it would prove to
be either a capsized hull--a grim relic of some ocean tragedy--or a
dead whale.
“We won’t lose much time in investigating,” he said to Trolley, who had
come aft. “If it turns out to be what we expect, we’ll make tracks for
the coast of Portugal.”
Half an hour later they were within fair sight of the object. As they
neared it the five boys began to show signs of surprise and eager
curiosity.
“Surely that isn’t the bottom of a ship,” said Joy.
“And him no whale, either,” chimed in Trolley.
“What’s that thing sticking up a little aft of midships?” queried
Nanny, excitedly.
“By gum, it looks like a broken smokestack or funnel.”
“The thing is iron or steel,” cried Judson, crawling aft. “See how the
sides glisten.”
Clif said nothing, but the expression upon his handsome face indicated
his lively interest. Carefully handling the steering oar he brought the
launch around within a dozen yards of the tossing object.
And then a simultaneous cry of amazement burst from the cadets.
“Great Scott!” added Clif. “It’s a torpedo boat and it has been
abandoned at sea!”
To Clif this remarkable discovery was welcome indeed.
He saw at once that the craft must be seaworthy, else it would not have
survived the gale. It was far better than the open sailing launch,
and a transfer to its comparatively roomy interior would certainly be
appreciated.
Then again, there might be food and water on board, and the lack of
those necessary articles was a subject of much anxiety to the youthful
leader.
“Stand by to grasp that ringbolt, Joy,” he called out from his position
at the steering oar.
The cadet he addressed leaned out from the bow of the launch in
readiness to obey the order.
The other occupants busied themselves in lowering the sail and in
assisting Joy to bring the boat alongside the strange derelict.
As the launch slipped alongside the torpedo boat, Joy cleverly caught
the ringbolt and thrust the end of the painter through it. The sail was
lowered, then all hands scrambled up the sloping side of the craft.
The iron surface was rusty and tarnished by wind and weather, but a
bright spot of paint here and there gave evidence that the derelict
could not have been long abandoned.
The deck sounded hollow under the footsteps of the boys, and the water
lapped against the cylindrical hull with a strange weird sound not
altogether pleasant.
The little door leading into the forward conning tower was tightly
closed, as was also that giving entrance to the after tower.
At intervals along the deck were hatches all hermetically sealed. Clif
and his companions were puzzled.
“I don’t understand this,” murmured the former. “If the crew was
compelled to leave, why did they close all the doors and hatches?”
“There’s some mystery about it,” said Joy, shaking his head doubtfully.
“Maybe crew all dead below,” suggested Trolley.
“Ow-w! Let’s go back to the launch!” cried Nanny, eying the conning
tower apprehensively. “I don’t want to be where there are lots of dead
men.”
“Nonsense! it wouldn’t make any difference if the craft was loaded with
them,” replied Clif. “We can throw them overboard, can’t we? Now that
the _Monongahela_ has apparently abandoned us to our fate”--he glanced
at the distant horizon--“we’ve got to make the best of things. We must
find something to eat----”
Trolley rubbed his stomach yearningly.
“And some water----”
Judson wet his parched lips with his tongue.
“And also a better and more seaworthy craft than the launch.”
“But we can sail the launch,” remarked Joy.
“That’s true enough, and we may do it after all, but now we must see
about food and water.”
Clif advanced to the forward conning tower and tried the door. It
resisted his efforts. He examined the edge carefully, and ran his
finger along the crack.
“I don’t believe it is locked inside,” he concluded. “Perhaps it has
been slammed violently and jammed. I’ll just----”
He sprang back in alarm. A hollow moaning cry came from forward. It
ended abruptly in a gurgle like that of a man in his last moments.
Little Nanny gave a gasp and moved toward the sailing launch, which was
still fastened alongside.
“Wh-wh-what was that?” he chattered.
“Somebody is down there,” exclaimed Joy, “and he needs help.”
“We go see,” said Trolley, quietly. “We break open door.”
“We’ll make a few inquiries first,” said Clif.
Stamping upon the steel deck, he bawled lustily:
“Below there! Ahoy the ’tween decks!”
The quintet waited expectantly, but the stillness remained unbroken.
Clif repeated the hail, and Joy pounded the deck with the oar from the
launch, but with the same result.
“I guess we imagined it,” said Nanny, evidently relieved. “It
wasn’t--wow!”
He ended with a cry of dismay. The moan again sounded forward, ending,
as before, with the unearthly gurgle.
Trolley darted past the conning tower, and, throwing himself flat upon
the sloping deck, leaned out over the bow. He had hardly taken his
position when the torpedo boat pitched sullenly into the trough of the
sea, and the uncanny noise was repeated.
The Japanese youth returned aft with a grin upon his face.
“We plenty fools,” he said. “That moan no come from man, it caused by
waves under bow. The cutwater is bent, and sea slap into it. Hurray!”
“That’s a jolly sell on us,” laughed Clif. “We are a lot of old women,
getting scared at the slightest noise. Come on; give me a hand with
this door. We can’t wait on deck all day. I want to see if there are
any stores on board. Nanny, are you hungry?”
The little cadet hastened to answer in the affirmative.
“Then I’ll get you to crawl down one of those broken funnels if we
can’t get in this way,” continued Clif, winking at Joy.
“Oo! I wish we were on the _Monongahela_,” complained Nanny, not at all
pleased at the prospect. “I don’t want to go down the funnel.”
“You are a big baby,” sneered Judson Greene.
“We may give you a chance to prove that you are full-grown,” said Clif,
coldly. “You are not too large for the funnel.”
“I am not afraid,” retorted Judson, walking aft.
A combined onslaught was made on the conning tower door. At first it
resisted the efforts of the four boys, but finally, after Trolley had
pounded the edges with the oar handle, it yielded slightly.
“All together now,” said Clif, bracing his feet against the curved side
of the conning tower. “One! two--three, pull!”
The four cadets tugged sharply on the rope that had been passed through
the handle, there was a complaining of strained hinges, then the door
flew back with a crash.
And out through the opening tumbled the body of a man, half-clothed and
ghastly in death!