BLOWN TO BITS
Captain Springer pondered the matter carefully.
“We’ll stand by for a little while,” he concluded, as he turned
toward the wireless room. “I’ll get in communication by radio with
the Department in Washington and send them the substance of your
report. They can then decide what they want us to do. And while
we’re waiting for their reply, we’ll get in touch with other ships
and the nearest shore stations, and find out if there’s any news of
the crew. If they’ve been picked up, well and good. If nothing has
been heard of them, we’ll cruise about in these waters and try to
find them.”
He was moving away, when he stopped short as he caught sight of
Hector.
“Where did you get this?” he asked, with a puzzled look at his first
officer.
“It was on the ship,” the lieutenant answered. “These boys were so
anxious to bring him along that I consented, leaving the final
decision to you. Of course, if you say so, a bullet will soon settle
the matter.”
“Oh, don’t do that, please!” exclaimed Bob, and then stopped short,
flushing at his temerity.
The captain looked from one to the other of the anxious group, and
his eyes twinkled.
“I guess we won’t have to resort to such drastic measures,” he said,
and the boys’ hearts took an upward bound. “But you boys will have
to take the responsibility of caring for him and seeing that he
doesn’t become a nuisance.”
“We’ll do that,” promised Jimmy, and they all nodded their heads in
emphatic assent.
“We’ll take such care of him that you won’t know he’s on the ship,”
added Bob.
“All right,” said the captain, and passed on.
“Didn’t you go almost too far, Bob?” suggested Joe. “We can’t take
the bark out of the dog.”
“No,” returned Bob, “but we can make him so happy and contented that
he won’t be any trouble. We’ll feed him well, for one thing.”
“But not too well,” put in Herb, “or we’ll soon have him as fat as
Jimmy. I don’t know how strong the _Meteor_ is, but there’s been a
pretty heavy strain on her since Jimmy came on board, and if Hector
gets as big, the boat may founder.”
“What does Jimmy care for that?” chaffed Joe. “He couldn’t sink if
he tried to. He’s a human life-preserver.”
Jimmy cast upon them a look of biting scorn.
“I’d rather be comfortably plump than to be a string bean like you
boobs,” he came back at them.
“Angels of grace defend us!” ejaculated Joe. “Do you get that,
fellows? Jimmy isn’t fat. Perish the thought! He’s just comfortably
plump. Jimmy, I take off my hat to you. You’re a past master in
camouflaging the English language.”
“Lay off Jimmy now, and let’s get down to brass tacks,” said Bob.
“Don’t let’s forget that we’ve got to get in touch with the folks at
home and get their permission to continue this trip.”
“Needn’t worry about that just now,” put in the indolent Herb. “The
wireless is going to be pretty busy for some time to come with the
matter of this ship. I doubt if we can get our messages in for some
hours yet.”
“You ought to be a Mexican, with your eternal putting off of
everything till the last possible moment,” declared Joe.
“I don’t know but what the Mexicans have it all over us at that,”
Herb defended himself. “Never do today what you can put off till
tomorrow isn’t half bad as a motto.”
“Herb’s like the fellow that always let his mail accumulate for
three months at a time,” observed Jimmy. “Then he tore all his
letters up because it was too late to answer the important ones, and
the unimportant ones didn’t need to be answered anyway.”
“Well, our messages home aren’t going to wait a minute longer than
they have to,” declared Bob, with decision. “Though I suppose we’ll
have to wait until the captain gets through. What’s bothering me is,
just how we’re going to get the messages through to them and get
their answers.”
“What’s the matter with this idea?” suggested Joe. “Suppose we call
up one of the big broadcasting stations near our homes—say WOR or
WAAM at Newark, or WEAF at New York—and ask them to send telegrams
to our folks, receive the answer from them, and then broadcast the
answer to the _Meteor_? Of course, our people would meet any expense
that might be involved.”
Captain Springer, who was returning from the wireless room, heard
the last remark and stopped.
“You needn’t bother about that,” he said. “I’ll see that your
radiograms go direct to NAA at Arlington, the big navy plant, and
they’ll get in touch by wire with your people and transmit to me the
answers.”
“That will be fine!” exclaimed Bob. “We didn’t know that they’d
attend to anything that wasn’t strictly Government business.”
“The need of castaway Americans is Government business,” answered
the captain. “If you were stranded in a foreign country, our consul,
wherever you happened to be, would advance you money enough to get
you home. Don’t trouble your mind about it any further. In about an
hour from now the radio operators will have had time to attend to
this ship matter, and then you can send any messages that you like.”
The captain rejoined his first officer at the rail, where he was
gazing through his glasses at the derelict.
“We’ve learned that the crew of the vessel have been picked up and
are safe and sound,” he informed him. “The _Water Sprite_ of
Liverpool, bound for St. Johns, rescued them at an early hour two
days ago. It seems that their vessel was caught in that heavy storm
that was raging off the banks some nights ago and sprang a leak.
They might have been able to carry on, however, had they not later
been caught by a projecting spur of an iceberg which stove that hole
in her that you mentioned in your report. Things got so bad it
looked as though she might founder at any moment, and so the crew
took to the boats. Luckily, the sea was smooth, and they were all
right when the _Water Sprite_ sighted them.”
“Well, that’s one responsibility off our minds, anyway,” returned
the lieutenant. “But what disposition are we to make of the
abandoned vessel?”
“I haven’t received definite instructions yet,” the captain replied.
“The Department is considering the matter, and I’ll probably hear
from them soon.”
The awaited message came about an hour later.
“It’s as I thought,” remarked the captain, as he read the message
that the wireless operator had translated from the code. “We’re
ordered to blow her up as a menace to navigation. She can’t be
salvaged, and she’s sure death to any vessel that might run into
her.”
Orders were given at once in accordance with the instructions. The
boys stood at the rail nearest the doomed vessel, taking care to
keep out of the way of the crew, and watched with fascinated
attention the busy preparations going forward.
Two boatloads of men were detailed to row over to the vessel with
charges of explosives that were carefully planted at the most
vulnerable points. Time fuses were attached, and then the boats
returned, were hoisted to their davits, and the _Meteor_ drew away
to a safe distance, where she moved about slowly, waiting for the
explosion to take place.
“It’s almost like waiting to see a man hung,” said Jimmy, in an awed
whisper.
“Hardly as bad as that,” replied Bob. “Luckily, boats can’t feel.”
“Think of the difference between this and her launching,” murmured
Joe. “Then, no doubt, there were flags and bunting and speeches and
champagne broken over the bow and cheers from a big crowd when she
slid off the ways. I wonder how they’d all have felt if they’d had
second sight and could have seen the end of her.”
“She’ll have lots of company where she’s going,” put in Herb. “Gee,
I suppose the ocean floor is just thick with wrecks. I don’t suppose
you could walk a hundred feet on the ocean floor without stumbling
over something that once belonged to a ship.”
“No doubt, at this moment there are more ships beneath the waves
than above them,” conjectured Bob. “But there she goes now!” he
cried, as a great cloud of smoke rose from the vessel and a roar
like that of thunder smote their ears.
The steamer seemed to rise in the middle like some great monster in
a convulsion. The air was full of flying giant fragments. Great
waves were stirred up that raced across the water and tossed the
_Meteor_ up and down as though it had been a chip.
For a few minutes, the cloud of smoke that hovered above the spot
where the vessel had been, obscured the sight of the spectators.
Then, as this gradually drifted away, it became apparent that the
_Meteor_ had done its work well. The derelict had disappeared, and
with it all the danger with which it had been fraught for vessels
plowing the ocean lanes. It had been shivered into bits.
The _Meteor_ got under way, and gradually the boys came back from
the excitement of the event to the personal matters that required
their attention. Their messages home were sent, according to the
captain’s suggestions, and before nightfall they had received
answering messages from their fathers, full of thankfulness that the
boys had been spared, replete with deep affection, and giving them
the permission that they desired.
Now their minds were at rest and they could give themselves up
wholly to the great adventure. Their spirits were at the highest
pitch.
“Now we’re off at last on the ice patrol!” exclaimed Bob jubilantly,
as they were undressing for the night. “Bring on your icebergs!”