A FIGHT FOR LIFE
So confused was Henry that he knew not in which direction to strike
out. He could not tell which way was up and which was down. He was
afraid to try to swim, lest he drive his body still deeper into the
water, or swim against a piling and perhaps knock himself
unconscious. Instinctively he had taken a deep breath just as he
struck the water. It was fortunate, for he was a long time coming
up, and before his natural buoyancy lifted him to the surface, he
began to suffer for air. His lungs seemed to be bursting. He felt as
though he were suffocating. But just when it seemed as though he
could hold his breath no longer, his head shot up above the water.
With a gasp Henry sucked in a lungful of air, and with it he gulped
down a mouthful of salt water. He began to cough and as he did so a
choppy wave hit him smack in the face and he swallowed more water.
Although he was an excellent swimmer, he was really in a bad way.
All of his swimming had been done in smooth, fresh water. He was not
accustomed to salt water and the roughness that usually accompanies
it. With his face drenched with the spray, his eyes stinging with
the salt water, and the choppy, uneven waves dashing over him, he
knew not how to take care of himself, or hardly in which direction
to try to swim.
Indeed, it would have bothered even a more experienced person to
know just where to turn. The pier from which Henry had fallen
contained not a soul, and no boats lay in the long, flanking docks.
It was useless to look for help from that quarter. It was almost as
useless to turn toward the ships that lay at anchor some hundreds of
yards out in the water. Between them and the shore the tide was
sweeping seaward with great power. Even if he could manage to keep
afloat, it would be almost useless to swim toward these ships. He
could never hope to stem that strong current, and the chance of
being seen by any lookout on the ships seemed remote indeed to
Henry. As for getting out of the water, there seemed no possible
chance of that either. There were no ladders, no ropes, no steps
visible anywhere along the piers, by which he could mount upward.
Only the rounded pilings that upheld the pier floors offered space
to cling to, and these were covered with rough barnacles and coated
with slime. Besides, it would do little good to cling to them unless
he could first attract the attention of some one.
With all his might Henry shouted, but he got no response. He was
fast becoming chilled, for the water was very cold. His strength was
ebbing, and the swirling eddies sucked him toward the pier. Once,
indeed, he was drawn entirely under the pier, and the choppy water
knocked him roughly against the pilings. His head banged hard
against a great spile, and for a moment Henry almost lost
consciousness. Then he recovered his full senses and set himself to
fight for his life. His strength was going fast, and he knew it. Yet
he did not allow himself to become panic-stricken. He took a grip on
himself, turned away from the pier, and struck out with all his
remaining strength. Whatever happened, he would get away from those
deadly pilings. The thought of dying under the pier, among those
slimy spiles, chilled him worse than did the cold water.
Incessantly the waves dashed in Henry’s face, blinding him. But he
kept his mouth shut and quickly learned to breathe guardedly, so he
swallowed little more water. Before him he could dimly distinguish
the great black bulk of an anchored ship. Even at the risk of being
swept seaward, he decided that he would try to swim to it.
Had it not been for his wet clothing and his shoes, which felt like
lead, Henry might have been able to make it. But his garments held
him back terribly. And so, though he continued to make headway, he
was swept swiftly along with the tide, out toward the open sea. From
time to time he shouted and waved a hand aloft, trying to attract
attention. All at once he realized that he could never gain his
goal, and the thought struck sudden terror to his heart. Still he
struggled on, but his strokes grew feebler and feebler. His vision
became so confused he could not see anything clearly. He was so
utterly tired as to be almost exhausted. Indeed, his movements had
become almost mechanical, and he had all but lost consciousness when
he was startled by the sharp clang of a bell and the noisy churning
of water close at hand. Then something took him by the coat-collar
and he felt himself being bodily lifted out of the waves. Again the
bell clanged sharply, once more a propeller churned the waters, and
he felt himself moving swiftly over the tide.
It was a full minute before Henry could clear his brain and wipe his
eyes clean, so that he could see. He found himself in a powerful
little motor-boat, quite evidently built for use at sea, that was
now scudding along under full power direct toward the little white
Coast Guard cutter. Straight at the cutter charged the little craft.
When it was only a few yards distant, the bell clanged once more,
the propeller ceased to revolve, the little boat’s head came sharply
about, and in another moment the craft was resting beside the ship’s
ladder.
“Can you make it alone?” asked one of the sailors in the boat, as
Henry rose to his feet and stepped on the landing-stage of the
cutter.
“Sure,” said Henry, who was already recovering his strength.
“Then up with you, quick.”
“All right,” answered Henry, “but first I want to thank you men for
saving me. I couldn’t have kept afloat much longer. You got to me
just in the nick of time. I don’t know what to say, to make you
understand how I feel.”
“Forget it,” smiled the sailor, “and hustle aboard. You’ll get
pneumonia if you stay there in the wind.”
Henry turned and started to mount the ladder. He noticed that one of
the sailors was close behind him, apparently ready to support him if
he needed help. But Henry was not now in need of assistance. His
strength was increasing every minute. He grasped the ladder-rail and
mounted upward, and when he looked ahead of him, he saw that the
cutter’s rail was lined with faces. Apparently the entire crew had
been watching the rescue.
As he reached the deck, Henry looked about him. Dozens of sailors,
in their strange blue uniforms, were gathered forward of the ladder.
And just aft of it stood a group of officers, looking very brave and
trim in their blue uniforms, with their gold-braided caps and their
gold-embroidered sleeves and shoulders. The captain looked
especially fine. He was a heavy-set man with a ruddy countenance.
His uniform gave him an air of real distinction. Somehow, his face
looked familiar to Henry, but it was not until the man spoke that
Henry knew who he was.
“Bless my stars!” exclaimed the captain, when he had taken a good
look at Henry. “If it isn’t the lad who saved me from that old motor
truck a few hours ago!” Then, without a word to Henry, he said:
“Hustle him down to the fireroom, rub him briskly, fill him up with
hot coffee, get him some dry clothes, and, when you get him to
sweating good, bring him to my cabin. Now, step lively.”
And step lively those sailors did, too. They rushed Henry forward
and down a steep, iron ladder into the hottest room he had ever been
in. And they stripped off his clothes and rubbed him with rough
towels until they almost skinned him. Then they provided him with
dry clothing. Meantime a mess-boy brought steaming hot coffee from
the cook’s galley, and Henry drank cup after cup of it. Very
grateful, indeed, was all this warmth after his chilly bath. Yet it
was some little time before Henry was really warm. But presently he
became more than warm. He grew hot. Then beads of perspiration broke
out on his body, and presently he was sweating profusely. Meantime
the ship’s surgeon had come into the fireroom and examined his
pulse, listened to his heart beat, and given him some sort of a
dose. Then the doctor led the way up to the deck and along to the
after companionway and so down to the captain’s cabin.
“Well, how are you feeling?” asked the captain, as Henry and the
surgeon entered the cabin, after knocking at the door.
“First rate,” laughed Henry, “but about as hot as a furnace itself.”
The captain chuckled. “That’s good news,” he said, “eh, Doctor?”
“The very best,” said the surgeon. “He’s all right, Captain. I think
his ducking will not hurt him a bit. He shows no sign of chill or
shock or any bad after-effect.”
“Very good, indeed. But keep your eye on him, Doctor. Now that we
have got him, we don’t want to lose him.”
The surgeon withdrew, leaving the captain and Henry alone in the
little cabin.
“Tell me, my boy,” said the captain, with great kindness, “how in
the world you ever got overboard. And, by the way, what happened to
your suit-case? Did you lose that overboard?”
“Gee!” said Henry. “I forgot all about that. It’s back on the pier
that I fell from. Is there any way I could get it?” And he began to
look much worried.
“Don’t be alarmed about it,” replied the captain. “We’ll have it on
board in a jiffy.”
He stepped to the table in the centre of the cabin and pressed a
call-button that hung over it. An attendant instantly responded.
“Rollin,” said the captain, “tell Lieutenant Hill that this lad had
a suit-case, and that, unless some one has taken it, it is on the
pier from which he fell. Ask the lieutenant to see that it is
recovered at once.”
The attendant raced up the companionway, and a moment later Henry
heard the clang of the bell in the little motor-boat and the
churning of her propeller.
“I’m mighty sorry you fell overboard,” continued the captain, “but
I’m also mighty glad to welcome you aboard the _Iroquois_. After
what you did for me, it gives me the greatest pleasure to be of some
slight service to you. Now tell me something about yourself. What is
your name? And where do you come from? Seeing that you carry a
suit-case, I judge that you do not live in New York.”
“No, I do not,” said Henry. “My home is in Central City,
Pennsylvania, and my name is Henry Harper.”
“Well, we’ll shake hands, Henry. My name is Hardwick—Captain
Hardwick.” And he thrust out a muscular palm.
Henry shook the proffered hand. “I owe you my life,” he said. “I
never can thank you adequately, but please believe I am grateful to
you.”
“Then we are quits. It is a case of tit for tat, isn’t it?” And the
captain smiled genially. “Now tell me what brings you to New York
and to Staten Island?”
“Well,” explained Henry, “I came over to New York to see an old
friend of mine, Willie Brown. He won a place in the Secret Service
recently and he promised to try to get me a job if I would visit
him.”
The captain frowned ever so slightly. “So you have been bitten by
the detective bug, too, have you?” he said.
“No, sir,” answered Henry. “I have no wish to be a detective, but I
do want a job. You see, sir, I was graduated from high school only
last June, and I want to get to work just as soon as I can. There do
not seem to be many very good jobs open to a fellow in a little town
like Central City.”
“I see. It always seems that way. Distance lends enchantment to
view. But never mind about that. What luck have you had here?”
“About the worst possible,” said Henry, with a grim laugh. “Willie
wasn’t in town, and won’t be for two or three weeks. And Roy Mercer,
another of my friends, who is wireless man on the _Lycoming_, is at
sea and won’t be in port for at least a week. And so I can’t find a
soul I know.”
“But what took you to Staten Island?”
Henry hung his head. “You see, Captain Hardwick,” he said slowly,
“I—I—didn’t exactly know what to do until Willie or Roy got back,
and I thought maybe I could find some friends in Staten Island. I
came here looking for them, but they have moved. It sort of upset
me, and I went down to the water-front to think what I should do.
Then I fell overboard.”
The captain looked at Henry searchingly. “You look big enough and
experienced enough to take care of yourself for a week, even in New
York. Why didn’t you go to a hotel and make yourself comfortable
while you waited for your friends?”
“I’d have been only too glad to do so, Captain, but you see—you
see—I came here expecting to be Willie’s guest—and I wasn’t prepared
to—to——”
“Out with it,” said the captain. “You mean you haven’t the money,
and you were worried about how to get along.”
“That’s exactly the case,” said Henry. “You see, Captain, my father
is dead, and I had to work while I went to school, so it put me
behind a little. Willie wanted to help me get a job, and he offered
to take care of me while I was here. I had enough money to pay my
car fare here and back, but that is about all. So you see I couldn’t
very well go to a hotel.”
“Well, bless my stars!” ejaculated the captain. “And you wouldn’t
take a cent from me this morning.”
“I couldn’t, Captain. Would you take pay from me for saving my life
just now?”
“Certainly not, but that’s different. Saving life is part of my job.
That’s what I’m paid for. Besides, I didn’t have a thing to do with
it. The man on watch saw you fall overboard, and I merely ordered
out the boat.”
“I can at least thank you for ordering out the boat. And I want to
do something to show my gratitude to the men who fished me out of
the water. I was almost gone when they got me, Captain Hardwick.”
Again the captain stepped to his call-bell. “Rollin,” he said, when
the attendant appeared, “tell Lieutenant Hill to send the crew of
the motor-boat to my cabin when they get back with this lad’s
suit-case.”
“Yes, sir. I think they are here now, sir.” And the attendant
hurried up the companionway.
A moment later three sailors appeared, one of them carrying Henry’s
suit-case. They came into the cabin and stood at attention.
Henry jumped to his feet. “I don’t know your names,” he said, “but
my name is Henry Harper. I want to thank you for what you did for
me. If you hadn’t got me, my mother would have been left all alone,
without any one to take care of her. I don’t know what to say to
you, but please believe that I am deeply grateful.”
The sailors were pleased, though they made light of the event.
“Forget it, kid,” one of them said. “It’s all in the day’s work.”
“Then I’ll say it’s a pretty fine sort of work you men do,” replied
Henry. He shook hands heartily with his rescuers, and the three
sailors went tramping up to the deck.
“You told the truth, Henry,” said the captain, after the sailors had
gone, “when you said they were engaged in a fine sort of work. It is
a life full of hardships, this life of a Coast Guard, and yet the
men love it. If you are looking for a job, you can find an opening
right in this service.”
“What could I do?” asked Henry. “I don’t know a thing about the sea.
I don’t have any desire to be a mechanic, and so I wouldn’t make a
good engineer. And I really would not care to be a sailor.”
“You might become a wireless man, like your friend on the
_Lycoming_. You could doubtless learn to operate the wireless as
well as he can.”
Henry smiled. “There wouldn’t be any trouble about the wireless,” he
said. “I’ve already worked for Uncle Sam as an operator.”
“The dickens you have! Tell me about it.”
And Henry told Captain Hardwick all about the Wireless Patrol, about
the capture by that patrol of the German dynamiters at Elk City,
about the hunt for the secret wireless right in Staten Island, and
about his serving as a substitute operator in the Frankfort wireless
station.
The captain’s eyes opened wide as he listened to the story. “If
there’s anything in having plenty of good operators aboard, we ought
to be safe on this ship,” said the captain, “for you are going to
stay here as my guest until your friends get back to New York.
Meantime, you can find out a whole lot about the life on a Coast
Guard cutter, and perhaps you might decide to enter the service
yourself.”
“Do you mean it, Captain Hardwick?” asked Henry, his heart beating
high at the prospect.
“Certainly I mean it.”
“And shall we go to sea?” cried Henry.
“Indeed we shall. I received orders just a little while ago to
destroy a derelict that has been sighted off Nantucket Shoals.
That’s what brought me aboard. You see I live in Staten Island—when
I’m home. I’m waiting for my executive officer. The minute he comes
aboard, we’ll hoist anchor.”
“Thank you, Captain,” cried Henry. “Won’t that be bully! I’ll be
more than glad to go. But I ought to let my mother know what has
happened to me. She’ll be worried when no letters come.”
“Entirely right,” said the captain. “Here’s my desk. You can write
her a letter whenever you wish. If there was any way to reach her by
wireless, we could send word to her at once from the ship.”
“Bully!” cried Henry. “Of course I can. The fellows at home will be
listening in for me right after supper. We made that arrangement
before I left home. I expected to call them up on the outfit Willie
uses at the Secret Service headquarters.”
“Very good,” said the captain. “Then we’ll call it settled. And I
hope you’ll enjoy every minute of our trip.”