SNATCHED FROM THE SEA
It would be foolish to think that the Radio Boys did not share in
the general alarm. They knew that the vessel was badly damaged, and
with almost every minute that passed they could detect that it was
listing more heavily to port. They could hear the monotonous
chug-chugging of the pumps as they worked desperately, and the sound
was not reassuring.
The darkness added to the sense of imminent danger. By the time the
boys reached the deck after leaving the engine room the electric
lights were out, and although a few lanterns had been hastily
lighted and strung about here and there, their beams were obstructed
by the heavy fog and hardly did more than make the darkness visible.
The figures that flitted in and out the feeble zone of light seemed
like so many phantoms.
Then there was the fog, the dank, slimy, dripping fog, that hung
around them like a winding sheet and soon had them drenched to the
skin, lightly and insufficiently clothed as they were. The situation
was one that might have struck with apprehension, not to say terror,
the most dauntless heart.
But after the boys had had time to get a grip on themselves they
braced, and, without minimizing the danger which they knew existed,
they kept their thoughts in their own hearts and put on a brave
front.
“This is an adventure we didn’t look for when we started on this
trip,” said Joe, trying to throw a touch of buoyancy into his tone.
“That’s the way most of our adventures have come to us,” remarked
Jimmy. “Don’t think I’m scared, fellows, because my teeth are
chattering. That’s mostly from the chill, though I’m willing to
admit I’m scared a bit, too.”
“Guess we all are,” said Joe. “But there’s no disgrace in being
scared, as long as we fight the scare. What famous general was it,
Bob, who admitted his knees always shook when he went into battle?
But he went in just the same, and that’s what made him a hero.”
“I can hear the radio operator still sending out his signals,” said
Herb. “Guess he’s flinging out the old S. O. S. as fast as his
fingers can work.”
“Let’s go and see if he has any answers yet,” suggested Bob. “We
might as well be there as anywhere else.”
As they made their way to the signal room again, they heard the
creaking of a pulley at the side.
“Testing out the pulley to see if the boats can be lowered all
right,” observed Bob.
“Looks as thought they think the vessel is a goner,” said Jimmy.
“Not necessarily,” returned Bob, cheerily. “That’s only a matter of
precaution that any good captain would take. It’s his business to
get ready for the worst that can possibly happen.”
The boys passed along, being careful to avoid interfering with the
activities of the crew, until they again reached the door of the
wireless room.
The operator, with his face pale but his jaw grim and determined,
was intent on his work, and the blue flames sputtered as he worked
the apparatus that was sending out urgent messages over that dark
waste of waters.
The boys huddled at one side of the door and listened. All of them
were now so expert that the letters of the code were as plain to
them as the alphabet.
That the situation was about as grave as possible, could have been
gathered by the expression of their faces as they interpreted the
meaning of the signals.
The S.O.S. was frequent and insistent. Latitude and longitude of the
vessel were given as nearly as the operator could determine them,
and the more extended appeals that followed were of the most urgent
character.
“Collided with a lumber schooner. Part of bow torn away. Water
coming in rapidly. Pumps almost useless. Getting ready to take to
the boats. Hurry! Hurry!”
Again and again, these and similar appeals were sent out into the
night.
“Now we know how our people felt when their boat was sinking, that
time we were at Ocean Point,” murmured Bob, soberly.
“Let’s hope an answer will come to us as it came to them,” observed
Joe, in a voice not too much surcharged with hope.
“It may come any minute,” replied Bob, encouragingly. “Remember,
we’re not out in the middle of the ocean, but in a lane that’s full
of ships. Some of them will be sure to answer. Look, he’s getting
something now.”
The boys watched the operator as he suddenly bent over his
instrument intently. And their own faces shared his look of relief
when they heard the message.
“United States naval vessel _Meteor_,” it ran. “Coming as fast as we
dare to in this fog.”
A moment later came a second message from a merchant steamer that
had caught the S. O. S. and was steaming to their assistance.
“What did I tell you?” cried Bob exultantly.
“That’s bully!” exclaimed Jimmy. “I guess we’re not going to kick
the bucket yet.”
“We’re not born to be drowned, so we must be born to be hanged,” put
in Joe, with a return of his old gayety of manner.
“Let’s hope that doesn’t follow,” laughed Bob. “But listen, fellows.
There’s another message.”
Sure enough, it was another call, freighted with cheer and hope and
promise of speedy help.
“There’s luck in odd numbers!” exclaimed Herb. “That makes three,
and from the locations they gave they can’t be far away. One of them
must be here soon. Hurrah, fellows! We’ll be laughing over this
thing tomorrow.”
“They’ll have to hurry though,” said Jimmy. “This boat is going down
mighty soon. Her engines must be stopped, for I don’t hear them any
longer.”
The engines, which had been kept going just enough to make the
steering of the vessel easier, had indeed ceased running. The fact
was ominous, for it implied that the water had reached the engine
room. And, moreover, the vessel had listed so heavily by this time
that they had to cling to the nearest stanchion to maintain their
footing at all.
“How is any vessel going to find us in this fog?” wondered Jimmy, a
new cause for anxiety assailing him.
“There’s the answer,” replied Bob, as he pointed to the stern, where
a great rocket with a rush and a roar sped upward to the sky.
Others followed, and, in addition, great flares were set alight in
the upper works of the steamer. How far they would penetrate the fog
was a problem, but their possibilities were cheering.
In addition to the lights, the powerful foghorn of the vessel boomed
out at intervals to help guide the rescuers groping about in fog and
darkness.
And the hearts of the Radio Boys leaped with gladness when in one of
those intervals they heard a muffled, answering blast that seemed to
be not more than a mile or two away. Shortly afterward a second, and
later on a third horn were sounded on the other side of the boat.
“They’re coming!” cried Bob, buoyantly.
But the water was coming too, faster than the helping boats, and
almost as soon as Bob’s voice died away the word was passed along
that all were to take to the boats. The captain had waited till he
dared wait no longer.
Mr. Strong, during all this time, had been keeping in constant touch
with the boys, but at the moment the order came had returned to his
cabin to get something that he had forgotten.
Before he returned the passengers had been herded into groups by the
officers according to the capacities of the boats that were awaiting
them. That to which the boys had been assigned already had its quota
full, and when Mr. Strong came back he was compelled to join another
boat’s company, despite his request that his party might be kept
together. But there was no argument possible at a moment like that.
As the plan was for the boats to keep together until they were
picked up, it did not seem, anyway, to be a matter of much
importance.
One by one, the boats were filled, until all the passengers and crew
had been accounted for except the captain and the wireless operator.
They stayed on board, keeping the wireless and the foghorn going
until the last minute possible. Then, when the convulsive movements
of the doomed vessel told them the time had come, they got into the
boats, which pulled away to a safe distance, where they lay with
just enough movement of the oars to keep their heads to the waves.
They had been there for perhaps five minutes when there was a
terrific roar as the boilers exploded and the ship went down. Though
in no danger of being sucked down in the maelstrom, owing to the
distance at which they lay, the boats were tossed up and down like
chips for several minutes before the tumult of the waters subsided.
To the lot of the Radio Boys had fallen one of the smaller boats, of
which they and some members of the crew were the only occupants.
By this time, the night was resonant with sound. From three sides
came the bellowing of foghorns, as the rescuing vessels felt their
way through the fog mist. The sounds could not by any stretch of
imagination be called melodious, but to the wave-tossed people in
the little boats they were sweeter than any music they had ever
heard.
“Talk about concert programs!” exclaimed Bob. “That beats them all!”
“The Metropolitan Opera Company never had anything on them,”
returned Jimmy, grinning.
The small boats had been provided with flares before they were
launched, and one was kept burning all the time at the bow of each
boat. But they were so close to the surface of the water that their
illuminating power was feeble and limited to a very narrow zone.
“If only this fog would lift!” muttered Herb.
“Let’s be thankful the sea doesn’t lift,” said Joe. “What chance
would we have if a storm sprang up?”
“There goes a rocket!” cried Bob, as a blinding flash of light clove
the darkness. “And it came from some ship close at hand. There’s the
ship now,” he fairly shouted, as a vague mass loomed up, not a
hundred feet away.
They all joined in a loud shout that was evidently heard on the
vessel, which was just creeping along, and they heard a command
given that brought the purring engines to a sudden stop.
At the same moment, the glare of a searchlight was turned on the
boat, and for a moment it almost blinded them.
“Ahoy there in the boat!” came a voice through a trumpet. “We see
you. Row up to the stern and we’ll take you on board.”
There was no need of urging. The sailors bent to their oars, and,
guided by the searchlight which flooded the water ahead of them with
its radiance, rapidly reached the stern of the vessel.
There was a ladder there, and, aided by willing hands outstretched
to them, the Radio Boys and the other occupants of the boat
clambered to the deck.
An officer, clad in the uniform of a United States naval lieutenant,
stood at the head of the ladder, and greeted them heartily as they
came on board.