_Fog blinded the captains of the
vessels on Long Island Sound--blinded
them to everything but honor._
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Argosy All-Story Weekly March 2 1929.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
In the exact center of the bridge of the lightless vessel, the lanky
captain leaned far out over the dripping weather apron and listened
tensely into the murky darkness of Long Island Sound. Astern and to the
starboard, the Montauk bell buoy tolled faintly as it was left behind.
Far off to the right the distant clanging of other buoys came from the
Connecticut shore.
"_Gr-r-r-r-r-unh!_" a bass whistle grunted up ahead. That would be the
Fall River boat.
"_Gr-r-r-r-unh!_" again she grunted, dead ahead.
The captain whirled his head and spoke in a hoarse whisper to the man
at the wheel.
"Port a bit, Sims!"
"Aye, sir!"
The slowly moving rum-runner veered slightly as she answered the
suppressed rattle of the steering engine in the bowels of the ship.
The harsh chuffing of the Fall River boat began to cough closer, and in
a moment her fog-veiled lights hove into view to the starboard.
"_Gr-r-r-r-r-unh!_" her fog horn blared as she churned eastward at
half speed toward the open Atlantic. From along the black side of the
rum-runner came the slosh and sucking of the wave the big steamer had
raised, and the smaller vessel rose and fell softly upon it for an
instant as it crept along.
"_Hoo-o-o-o-ooh!_" That would be the Boston turbine.
"Starboard a hair, Sims!"
"Starboard, sir!"
"_Hoo-o-o-o-ooh!_"
A dripping gray shape with phosphorescent rows of dim lights along her
decks forged by, high over the port rail.
"_Wh-a-a-a-h!_" a seagoing tug spoke astern, and in a moment she
wallowed by out of sight on the port side.
Here and there all over the Sound, vessels were blaring and tooting
their warnings and giving their answers as they forged up and down the
channel and crossed between Connecticut and the Long Island shore.
The rum-runner's captain craned farther out and strained his ears as he
exactly placed the nearest of them. The dank fog was congealing on his
oilskins and dripping from his face. He straightened up and groped for
the speaking tube. Thrusting it to his lips he growled a terse order to
the man deep below in the engine room.
"Give me half speed, chief, until I change it!"
He clanked the tube back on its hook and as he craned out again the
ship began to vibrate gently to the increased throttle.
A man who had been standing silently in the starboard wing clutched the
bridge rail and groped over beside the captain.
"You no thinka you go too fast now, cap, hey?"
His hand tugged at the captain's oilskin sleeve as he voiced the
question.
The captain whirled his head and peered back over his shoulder at the
unseen speaker.
"What the hell's biting you now, Joe?" he growled.
The questioner prefaced his words with a chuckle, but there was panic
and hysteria in it.
"I no lika this fog too moch. Too moch traffic in dam Sound thisa
night. You no thinka we run too fast, cap?"
* * * * *
The captain shoved himself erect.
"Feet gettin' cold, huh? Well, this is just our sort of weather, Joe.
We'll slide to Oldfield Point under cover of the fog, slip the stuff
to your men at the landing, and then we'll turn tail and hop out
again. The chasers 'll be wondering whatinell happened this time. This
is our eighth trip in together. I'm another thousand to the good and
you're another hundred thousand. I never see you get scared before.
What are you kicking about?"
"I no feela right, cap! I have hoonch this time not so good! Listen,
cap, you no think we better back up and get back out for less foggy
time?"
Up ahead two big fog horns blared. A long, lean tanker loomed out of
the murk and grazed by.
"Aw, damn it, Joe, shut up! Get to hell away from me! How can I con
this ship with your bazoo going? Scat! Get over where you was and make
a noise like a mouse!"
"Leesten, cap!" Hysteria was making the Italian's voice tremble
reedily. "You better swing round and put back out! I got two hunderd
t'ousand dollars' wort' on board here. I lose that an' my guarantee on
thisa vessel, see?"
"Aw! Go back where you was, I told ye!"
He gave the scared Italian a shove away from him.
Joe Parento shuffled back along the rail and whined his woes to himself
as he peered, listening desperately, into murk from the starboard wing.
The fog had constantly thickened, and he dodged back as a huge black
tramp wallowed by so close he could almost have reached out and touched
it.
"For Heaven's sake, cap!" He scrambled over and again tugged at the
captain's sleeve.
"Get to hell away, Joe! You're yellow as a Chink! I haven't lost a dime
yet for you and I've made you a million while I was makin' seven grand
for myself. What's got you scared of a little hatful of fog?"
He groped for the speaking tube.
"Give her another twenty revolutions, chief," his tense growl spoke
down the tube.
"_Per Dio!_" swore the Italian. "You get crazy lika the hell!"
"Sh! Listen!"
The captain craned out again.
"_Wh-a-a-a-h! Whuh! Whuh! Whuh!_"
The captain chuckled.
"That's the Bridgeport-Port Jeff ferry! He's divin' over, and he's
makin' it! Bully for him, and I'm glad he's out of our way!"
Two big fog horns began booming, in question and answer, off to the
port quarter ahead.
"Them big fellows are gettin' worried," he growled half to himself,
"gettin' close together and neither one knows just where t'other one is
exactly!"
"_Hoo-o-o-o-ooh! Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!_"
"_Gr-r-r-r-r-unh! Grr! Grr!_"
In a moment came a long blast followed at an interval by two short
grunts.
"By Godfrey, that was a close shave for 'em!" enthused the captain of
the rum-runner, _sotto voce_.
He spoke into the speaking tube.
"Cut her to half throttle, chief!" he murmured.
He felt the Italian's hand trembling on his sleeve.
"You no thinka we better turna back, cap? I have hoonch thisa time we
have trooble, hey, what you theenk?"
The captain grabbed the quivering hand on his sleeve and with his
calloused clutch he firmly tore the hand away.
"You give me the heebie-jeebies, Joe! Whyn't you be reasonable? What're
you askeard of?"
* * * * *
Something up ahead caught his ear and he half crawled out on the
weather apron.
"There's some damned thing up ahead of us goin' our way with no lights
either! She ain't a hundred fathoms ahead of us!" he blurted as he
crawled back. He put the mouth-piece of the tube to his lips.
"Hey, chief! Cut her to about forty revolutions and stand by! May need
full speed astern any moment!"
He spoke in a tense whisper to the man at the wheel.
"Port a bit, Sims! Steady as you go!"
"Steady, sir!"
The captain started to stretch out over the apron again and a rasping
sound from up ahead caused him to pause, tensely listening. A big siren
and a hoarse whistle blared at the same instant. A terrific smashing,
grinding crash leaped to a crescendo of harsh noise. Excited voices
shrilled across the water.
The rum boat captain's voice rose to an excited snarl.
"They've met head on! It's this feller ahead of us and somepin. It's
one of them big fellers that's got him! He's either a booze boat like
us or he's a chaser!"
The Italian was sniveling.
"Cap, you turn back, cap, you hear me?"
The captain gave him a shove that sent him scurrying to the end of the
bridge. From up ahead came the jangle of ship's bells and the sharp
coughs of the exhausts.
"Hell's bells! The big fellow's rammed 'em and he's runnin' off to
leave 'em drown!"
The lights of the oncoming steamer loomed out of the fog and bore down
on them, scraped along the side and moved by. The bootleg captain
snatched up a flash light and snapped it on as he dashed to the wing,
and he roughly elbowed the Italian aside as he thrust it upward to peer
at the vessel. Scared yellow faces blinked down at him from along the
rail.
"You yellow devils!" the captain shrilled up at them. "What you runnin'
off for after ramming a vessel?"
He glimpsed the word "_Maru_" on the stern of the tramp as she surged
by with engines pounding full speed ahead.
He leaped to the speaking tube.
"Shut her down, chief, and let her drift! Somebody rammed up ahead.
Don't want to smash into one of their boats or run down anybody
swimmin'. Stand tight by the tube, too! I may want to use the engine
quick at any time!"
His words leaped down the tube like pistol shots. He snatched the
megaphone down and whirling, shouted down to the deck.
"Snap on the lights, mister!"
"Aye, aye, sir!"
The metal switch-box door clanged open as the thudding feet of the mate
reached it and his hand clawed it open. Globes of light sprang out
along the foggy deck and up in the wheelhouse.
The captain bawled down the tube: "All right, chief! Hold her there!
Watch the indicator!"