From some point far overhead a musical humming became audible. It
was not the rasping roar of an aëroplane motor, but a deep, truly
melodious note that seemed to grow rapidly in volume. The soft-voiced
conversations on the upper deck were hushed. Every one listened to
the strange sound from above. It grew and became clear and distinct.
The source seemed to come nearer. At last the sound came from a spot
directly overhead, then passed over and toward the Narrows.
A cold breeze beat down suddenly. It was not a cool sea breeze, but
a current of air coming down from directly above the Coney Island
steamer. It was actively, actually cold. A chorus of exclamations
arose, full of the wit of the American a-holidaying.
"Br-r-r-r! I feel a draft!"
"Say, Min, are you givin' me the cold shoulder?"
"Sadie, d'you want to borrow all of my coat or only the sleeve?"
And one young man caused a ripple of laughter by remarking:
"Feels like my mother-in-law was around somewhere."
People hastened to put on such wraps as they had with them. On the
lower decks there arose a sound of tired voices, saying with variations
only in the names called:
"Johnnie, button up your coat. It's getting cold."
The cold wave lasted only for a few moments, however. As the steamer
forged ahead the strata of cold air seemed to be left behind, and the
humming sound grew fainter. If the passengers on the boat had listened,
they might have heard a faint splash in the water behind them, but
as it was the sound went unnoticed. The humming died away. The boat
went on and docked, and the passengers dispersed to their homes. Every
one of them woke the next morning to find himself or herself locally
celebrated.
Half an hour after the Coney Island boat had docked a tramp steamer was
nosing her way out of the Narrows. She was traveling at half speed,
the air was clear, the channel was well buoyed, and there seemed no
possibility of any harm or danger befalling her. The lookout leaned
over the bow negligently, watching and listening to the indignant
interchange of whistle signals between two small tugs in a dispute
over the right of way. He dropped his eyes and stiffened, then turned
toward the pilot house and shouted frantically, but too late. The shout
had hardly left his lips before there was a shock and grinding sound,
mingled with the raucous shriek of rent and tormented iron plates.
The tramp steamer shuddered and stopped, and began to sink a trifle
by the head. At the first intimation of danger the man on the bridge
had ordered the water-tight doors, closed, and now he rang for full
speed astern. The tramp swung free of the unknown obstruction, but the
two bow compartments were flooded and the steamer's stern was lifted
until the propeller thrashed helplessly in a useless mixture of air
and water. Her whistle bellowed an appeal for help. "_Want immediate
assistance!_"
Half a dozen tugs, including the two that had been quarreling by
whistle, responded to the stricken steamer's call. Their small sirens
sent cheery messages promising instant aid, and they began to tear
across the water toward her. One tug reached the helpless vessel's
side. A second rushed up and began to pull the unwieldy tramp away
from the unknown obstacle. The lights of a third could be seen very
near, when there was a crash and a frantic bellow from the tug. It also
had struck the obstruction against which the tramp had run. The tramp
bellowed anew.
A destroyer shot down the river with a searchlight unshipped, her crew
standing by to rescue any persons who could be reached by lifeboats.
She swung up and saw the tramp being hauled and pulled at by busy,
puffing tugs. The long pencil of light danced over the surface of the
water to find the derelict or wreck that had caused the trouble. Back
and forth it swept, and then stopped with a jerk as if the operator
could not believe his eyes.
Floating soggily in the water of New York harbor, in late August--the
hottest time of the year--a wide cake of ice lay glistening under the
searchlight rays! The harbor waves ran up to the edge of the ice cake
and stopped. Beyond their stopping point the surface was still and
glassy. The cake floated heavily in the water and showed no sign of
cracks or fissures. It was evidently of considerable thickness.
A second searchlight reënforced the first. The two white beams moved
back and forth, incredulously examining the expanse of ice. It was
hundreds of yards across. At last one of the beams passed something
at the center of the cake and hastily returned to the thing it had
seen. Rising calmly and quietly from what seemed to be a small crater
at the center of the ice cake, a plume of steam floated placidly into
the air. It was a huge plume, precisely like the flowing of a white
ostrich feather, rising from a small orifice in the center of the mass
of frozen sea water.
A wail from the siren of the tug that had run against the ice cake
caused the searchlights to turn in its direction. The engine had ceased
to run and a cloud of escaping steam was pouring from the tug's funnel.
Men on the deck gesticulated frantically. The destroyer ran as close
as the commander dared, and he shouted through a mega-phone. It was
impossible to distinguish words in the confused shouts that came back
from half a dozen throats at once, but the searchlights soon showed the
cause of the excitement. The men on the tug pointed over the side. The
small harbor waves rolled unconcernedly up to a point some twenty feet
from the stern of the tug, but there they stopped abruptly. The tug had
become inclosed in the ice floe. As those on the destroyer watched,
the twenty feet became thirty and the thirty forty. The ice cake was
increasing in size with amazing rapidity.
A boat put off from the destroyer, and the commander shouted to the
crew of the tug to take to the ice. There was a moment's hesitation,
and then they jumped over the side and ran to the edge of the floe.
The lifeboat touched the edge and was instantly frozen fast, but
the sailors managed to break it free again by herculean efforts. It
went back to the destroyer, whose wireless almost instantly began to
crackle. Two other destroyers dashed down from the Brooklyn Navy Yard
and turned their searchlights on the strange visitor in the harbor.
The semaphore of the first destroyer on the scene began to flash, and
the three lean naval craft began to circle around the huge ice cake,
warning away all other craft and constantly measuring and re-measuring
the size of the mass of ice. One of the destroyers at last slipped
outside the Narrows and stayed there, patrolling back and forth to keep
other vessels from running foul of the strange and as yet inexplicable
phenomenon.
By daybreak the Battery was a black mass of people. They looked eagerly
toward the Narrows, but could see nothing but a wall of mist, from
which the gray shape of a destroyer now and then emerged. High in the
air, however, the plume of steam was visible. It was now more than a
thousand feet high and was dense and white. The first rays of the sun
had gilded the top, while the ground below was still dim and dark,
but now it rose in calm and quietness to an unprecedented height,
mystifying the people who looked at it and causing a sudden silence
to fall upon them all. A warm, moist sea breeze had blown in from the
ocean during the night and had been changed to fog as it passed over
the expanse of ice, so that the ice itself was hidden from view, but
the tall plume of steam told of some mysterious menace to humanity that
the crowd assembled at the Battery feared without understanding.
As the mass of people watched the supremely calm column of steam rising
high in the air of that August morning, newsboys began to circulate
among them, their strident cries sounding strangely among the silent
multitude. The Narrows were frozen solidly from shore to shore, and all
entrance to and egress from New York harbor was blocked. Small craft
could go out behind Staten Island through the Kill van Kull, and some
vessels could use the other channel which goes from the East River into
the Sound, but the great Ambrose Channel---one-third the size of the
Panama Canal--and the broad opening that made New York the greatest
port on the Atlantic coast was closed. The growth of the ice cake had
greatly lessened, so that it could be predicted that it would not
expand far beyond its present size, but its origin and the means by
which it resisted the disintegrating effect of the August warmth were
utterly unknown. The cause of the plume of steam from the center of the
ice cake was an unfathomable mystery.
Suddenly, from the empty sky, there came a deep, musical humming.
Instinctively people looked up. The humming grew louder and more
distinct, while curious eyes swept the sky.
Then a black speck appeared below one of the fleecy white clouds and
dropped toward the earth. A thousand feet, two thousand feet it fell,
then checked and hung steadily in the air. Those who looked with the
naked eye could only discern that it seemed like a wingless black
splinter suspended above the earth, but those who had glasses saw the
whir of dark disks above a black, stream-lined body. A small cabin
was placed amidships, and a misshapen globe hung from chains below.
It was still for several minutes. The passenger or passengers seemed
to be inspecting the earth below, and particularly the ice cake, with
deliberation and care. Then it began to rise with the same deliberation
and certainty, swung around, and sped off with incredible speed toward
the northeast. The humming sound grew fainter and died away, but the
crowd standing on the Battery began to murmur with a nameless sense of
fear.