ADRIFT
Captain Dodge stood near by urging on his men. Nor did he shirk any of
the work himself. He fought the flames with all the fury of a determined
man, but it soon became plain that it was an unequal struggle and that
the _Josephine_ would never reach Buenos Aires or any other port
for that matter.
"Man the boats!" shouted the captain.
The lifeboats were loosened on the davits and made ready to launch. A
stock of provisions was placed on board of every one of them and
preparations were made to embark. The four Go Ahead boys were assigned
to one boat, together with Sam the cook and Petersen the Finn sailor.
"That'll never do," said John in a low voice to Grant. "Sam and Petersen
in the same boat are bound to have trouble."
"I'm afraid so myself, String," said Grant, "but what can we do? Captain
Dodge gave the orders and we must do as he says."
"Wouldn't he change them?"
"He might, of course, but I'm not going to ask him to."
"No," said John ruefully, "I don't suppose we could do that. I guess
we'll have to put up with it."
The wind had been steadily increasing in violence since the fire started
and now was blowing almost a gale. It whipped the waves into foam and
whistled and shrieked through the rigging. The fire, fanned by the
breeze, now roared menacingly while its volume increased steadily. It
was only too evident that it would be impossible to remain on board the
_Josephine_ many moments more.
"We'd better get away from here," said Fred nervously, as he watched the
mass of flame and smoke which now enveloped the whole forward part of
the ship.
"When we do leave we won't be much better off," said Pop gloomily.
"Just the same I'd rather take my chances with the ocean than with this
fire," exclaimed Grant.
"Where are we going!" demanded John.
"How do I know!" said Grant. "We must leave, that's sure. What we are to
do after we leave is another matter."
"Stand by to lower away!" came the order.
The four boys sprang to their positions. Petersen and Sam joined them a
moment later. The negro cook was half-crazed with fear and still kept
mumbling to himself, "Dat Finn, dat Finn." Undoubtedly he did not
understand that Petersen was to go on the same boat with him or he would
not have consented to step aboard. Now, in the darkness it was almost
impossible to recognize anybody and Sam probably had no idea who any of
his companions were to be.
"Lower away."
The boats descended rapidly and soon rested upon the water where they
danced and bobbed about like corks on the angry waves.
"Get aboard, Sam," urged Grant.
Making no objection, the negro quickly lowered himself into the waiting
boat. Fred, John, Grant and George followed in order, leaving only
Petersen on board the brig. He stood with the painter in his hand,
awaiting the word to leave.
"Unship your oars," he called.
"All right," answered Grant.
There were two pairs of oars in the boat and every one of the four boys
took charge of one of them. Sam cowered in the bow of the boat
shuddering and still murmuring over and over again, "Dat Finn, dat
Finn."
At the sound of Petersen's voice from the deck above, however, he half
raised himself. "Who dat talkin'?" he demanded.
"One of the sailors," said Grant carelessly, knowing what was passing in
the black man's mind.
"Dat Petersen," said Sam. "Am he comin' on dis heah boat?"
"I don't know," Grant answered evasively.
"He bettah not. He bettah not," said Sam fiercely. "We's had enough hard
luck on account ob dat man already."
"It wasn't his fault," said Grant trying to quiet the excited negro.
"It was! It was!" Sam fairly shouted, at the same time trying to stand
up in the skiff.
"Sit down, Sam," ordered Fred sharply.
"Ah won't sit down," the cook cried menacingly. "Ah won't do nothin' if
dat Finn am gwine git in dis heah boat. Ah tells yo' all we's had enough
hard luck on account of dat man."
"You'll sit down or get out of the boat," said Grant threateningly. "We
won't take any fooling here either."
Sam subsided, but he still mumbled to himself incessantly.
"All right, get aboard," John called to Petersen, though he took care
not to call him by name.
Petersen threw the painter and jumped into the stern of the life-boat.
The four oarsmen dug their blades into the water and the little craft
shot forward. The other boats had also left and the _Josephine_ was
now a blazing mass of wood. Sparks shot high into the air and in all
directions only to fall with a hiss into the angry waters of the sea.
The roar of the flames could be heard even above the noise of the storm
which seemed to be increasing in intensity.
The four boys rowed a couple of hundred yards away from the burning brig
and then rested on their oars and watched the destruction of the ship on
which they had expected to go to South America. She was entirely
enveloped in flames now and presented a wonderful but terrible sight as
she was rapidly being devoured by the hungry fire.
All the occupants but one of the boat watched the fire. That one was
Sam. He still remained huddled in the bow and never once did he look
back. He moaned and groaned and raved until the rest of the party began
to think that perhaps he was losing his mind.
Farther and farther from the burning ship drifted the tiny boat. All
that the crew of it could do was to keep the stern straight into the
waves and straighten her out when a great roller sent them flying. Lower
and lower appeared the hull of the _Josephine_, when an occasional
glimpse could be had of her from the crest of some huge wave. At length
she disappeared, entirely burned to the water's edge, and thus came the
end of another brave ship. One more was added to the great ocean
graveyard, already thick with the bones of many a gallant merchantman.
"She's gone," said George soberly.
"Yes," said John, "and what's going to happen to us?"
"We may be picked up," exclaimed Fred hopefully.
"And we may not," added Grant.
"Do you know where we are?" he asked of Petersen.
"I've no idea," was the answer. "Somewhere near the West Indies, or
maybe we're right in them now for all I know."
"Then we'll soon find land," said Fred as cheerfully as was possible
under the circumstances.
"I hope it isn't the land that's at the bottom of the ocean," said
George.
"Don't be so pessimistic, Pop," urged Fred. "What's the matter with you
lately?"
"Nothing. We're in a bad fix, that's all."
"Look out for this wave!" warned Grant suddenly as a great mountain of
water loomed up behind them.
The little boat was driven along at the speed of a race horse for many,
many yards, but fortunately she remained right side up. The four boys
managed their oars skillfully and Petersen steered marvelously. Now and
then some water was shipped but aside from that no harm came to them.
Gradually the wind died down and the storm abated. Night had now come
upon them, however, and they were in a sorry plight.
"Where are the other boats?" asked Grant when an hour of silence had
elapsed.
"I've no idea," said Fred. "Has any one seen them?"
No one had. At least every one denied it but Sam, and as he had not once
looked around him there was no chance that he had seen anything. Now he
was asleep. He had made no move to help in any way and seemed to take it
for granted that the others would look after him. His last words before
he had closed his eyes were, "Dat Finn."
"We've got some provisions, anyway," said John.
"Yes," agreed George, "but how long do you think they'll last?"
"Plenty long enough to keep us going until we are picked up."
"Don't be so sure of that," George advised. "At any rate, we have no
water, and that's even more important than food."
"Yes, we have, too, Pop," corrected Fred. "It's right under my feet."
"Yes, salt water, though," grumbled George.
"Not at all. There's a cask of fresh water right here in the bottom of
the boat."
"Give me some, then," exclaimed George eagerly. "I'm half dead with
thirst as it is now."
"Don't drink it now, Pop," urged Grant. "We may be hard pressed for
water, as you say, and I think we'd all better wait till morning. Then
we can take stock of just what we have here."
"That's right, Grant," agreed John heartily. "Don't you think so, too,
Petersen?"
"I do. We can surely get along without food and water until light comes,
but in a day or so we may need it very badly."
"You think we'll be out here that long?" demanded Fred.
"I don't know. Still you never can tell, and it's always well to be
prepared."
"You're right," acknowledged George. "At any rate, I don't want any
water."
It was a characteristic of these four boys that they were usually
cheerful under any and all conditions. No matter how hard a thing might
be, they bore it willingly if it was necessary. They made complaints if
they thought it was unnecessary, but when they knew it was the only
thing to be done they never raised a murmur. No sportsman ever complains
of a thing that is fair, and what is best for the most people is always
fair.
Hour after hour dragged by. To the little band on board the life-boat it
seemed as if morning would never come. The storm had passed, but the
water was still rough and the night still inky dark. Now and again the
boys dozed off and caught a few winks of sleep. No attempt to row had
been made for several hours. Petersen steered the boat and was the only
one who did not rest. Incessantly through the long night he guided the
little craft and watched over the safety of those on board.
At last morning came. The first faint streaks of light thrust their rosy
fingers up over the eastern horizon and soon the whole sky was covered
with an orange glow. Little by little the faint outlines of the
occupants of the life boat became visible. What a sorry looking crew it
was, too. Disheveled, dirty and unkempt, they plainly showed the effects
of their harrowing experience.
As the light crept over the ocean it showed some of the party asleep.
The others were haggard and worn looking and seemed to have but small
concern as to what happened to them. They lolled on the cross seats in a
listless way, not at all interested in the beautiful sunrise. They were
more concerned in their own welfare than in the beauties of Nature.
"Oh, hum," yawned Sam, raising himself from the position in which he had
lain all night. "We sho' has had a powerful lot of hard--"
He caught sight of Petersen and suddenly ceased talking. A change came
over his face as he recognized the man to whom he charged the hard luck
that had overtaken them. Hate spread itself over the features of the
superstitious negro and his breath came in short gasps as if some one
was choking him.
"Dar yo' are!" he exclaimed fiercely. "Dar yo' are, yo' hard luck Finn.
I'll fix yo'," and he started to make his way towards the stern of the
boat to the spot where his enemy was seated.