VICTORY
For two weeks the _Iroquois_ herded the floes of ice. Then the
_Oneida_ relieved her and the _Iroquois_ sailed to Halifax, where
she renewed her supplies and equipment preparatory to another two
weeks of struggle with the army of the ice king. So it went for long
months, but finally the last of the bergs disappeared. The _Oneida_
had already gone back to Boston. Now the _Iroquois_ bade farewell to
the fogs and storms of the Grand Banks and gleefully headed for her
home anchorage in the shelter of old St. George.
But ere she reached her longed-for haven, duty once more turned
her prow away from home. The little cutter, driving as fast
as steam and the eagerness of her crew could send her, was far
off the New England coast when, shortly after evening mess one
foggy day, Henrypicked out of the air that ever-startling
call, “QST—QST—QST—QRT—QRT—QRT—SOS—SOS—SOS—SOS—SOS: Steamers
_Wilmington_ and _Hiawatha_ in collision. Position sixty-four ten
west, forty-three north.”
It was the _Wilmington’s_ operator who was sending. The instant he
signed off, Henry’s key was sounding. He flashed the _Wilmington’s_
call, KGD, and asked, “Do you require assistance?”
“Yes,” came the answer. “Require assistance immediately.”
Henry called a sailor and sent the message to the commander. Then he
returned to his key, and again signaled the _Wilmington_. “How badly
are you hurt?” he queried.
“_Wilmington’s_ bow crushed. Number one hold full of water.
_Hiawatha’s_ stern damaged. Propeller broken. _Hiawatha_ in tow.
Making for Halifax. Speed three knots an hour.”
The sailor came hurrying back with a message to the _Wilmington_.
Henry handed him the communication he had just received, and flashed
out the message the sailor had brought, “Cutter _Iroquois_ to your
assistance. Hardwick, Commander.”
With all the speed he could muster, Captain Hardwick was coming,
too. On through the fog and the dark the little cutter went rushing
as fast as steam and muscle would drive her. In the engine-room
grimy oilers tended their machines as carefully as a mother watches
her babe. Like demons the firemen fed the furnaces, and the coal
passers worked unceasingly. Through mist and fog and surging billow
the _Iroquois_ drove on and on. At ten minutes of nine Henry caught
another call, “Same course. Going about on account bad steering.
Call first fifteen minutes each hour.”
An hour later came the cry, “We have stopped now. Unable to proceed.
When can we expect you?”
By every means at his command the captain of the _Iroquois_ tried to
hasten the little cutter, but already every soul on board was
working at top capacity. Under forced draught, in heat almost
unbearable, the men in the fireroom fed and stoked the fires with an
energy well-nigh superhuman. From stem to stern the little cutter
trembled and shook with the intensity of her efforts. Never had she
traveled faster, yet hours must elapse before she could reach the
injured steamers. Reluctantly Henry sent the discouraging word. And
hardly had he finished, before there came to him the startling call,
“Have you anything for me? Antennæ may soon carry away.”
It was just ten o’clock. Both Mr. Sharp and Jimmy had joined Henry
in the wireless shack. They looked at one another with questioning,
fearful eyes.
“She must be damaged more than we thought,” said Mr. Sharp. “God
grant she stays afloat till we get there.”
At ten thirty-five came a reassuring flash from the _Wilmington_:
“Have cast loose from the _Hiawatha_. Cannot steer. Heading into
wind. Will proceed as wind abates. Water not gaining. Antennæ will
carry away soon. Will answer your light by rockets. Will fire
rockets every half hour.”
Jimmy rushed the message to the commander on the bridge. Mr. Sharp
began to look very sober. “She must be worse than we think,” he
repeated. “I can’t understand why her antennæ should be about to
carry away. It must be blowing hard. A storm is coming where she is.
I’m afraid of that wind. Her forward bulkhead is all that keeps her
from sinking; it confines the water to her number one hold. But if
the sea makes up, the pressure will smash that bulkhead, sure. The
_Hiawatha’s_ helpless now. She’ll drift fast before the wind. We’ve
certainly got our work cut out for us.”
Grave, indeed, was the face of the commander, when he learned what
had occurred. “Tell Mr. Sharp to get into communication with the
_Hiawatha_ at once,” he directed, “and have her keep in touch with
us. The _Wilmington_ is evidently much more badly injured. We must
go to her first and get her men. We’ll steam for the Hiawatha the
minute we have rescued them.”
On rushed the cutter. Through fog and dark she drove, fighting with
every ounce of her power to win her way to the side of her crippled
sister. Without, the night was black as pitch. From the sea came
that ominous, moaning sound that betokens a storm. Aloft the cordage
shrieked and wailed. As the ship rushed on, the wind rose steadily
higher.
At eleven thirty-five came the message, “We are firing rockets now.”
At midnight the _Wilmington_ sent her position. In all her hours of
struggle she had won but pitifully few miles toward safety. When
Henry had copied down this message, he laid aside the headphones and
surrendered his place to Jimmy. He had worked two hours overtime,
but no one in the radio shack had given a thought to time. They were
tense with anxiety about the _Wilmington_. Now Henry took his
message to the captain. Mr. Sharp told him he had better get some
sleep, but sleep was impossible. Every minute the wind was coming
stronger, and the sea was getting up. The thought of those wretched
sailors, waiting helplessly for the _Iroquois_, their vessel likely
to sink at any moment, moved Henry powerfully. Never could he forget
the sight of those poor fellows from the _Iroquois_ that he had seen
struggle so hard for their lives in the sea off Cape Cod. The men of
the _Wilmington_ might at any moment be in the same situation. With
such thoughts surging through his excited brain he could not sleep,
so he returned to the radio shack.
At half-past three in the morning a rocket was seen. Long before
this the _Iroquois_ had broken out her searchlight, shooting a great
finger of light through the darkness ahead, then pointing the beam
upward toward the heavens, so that it could be seen afar. The cutter
rushed on, crew and commander heartened by the streaks of fire that
now shot heavenward at intervals in the darkness ahead. By four
o’clock the _Wilmington_ herself could be seen plainly, and a little
while later the _Iroquois_ lay close alongside, her searchlight
playing on the injured ship.
The freighter’s prow was bent, and she had settled a little forward,
but otherwise she appeared to be in good condition. On the far side
of her was a gaping hole in her nose that was not visible from the
_Iroquois_. She looked as though she were still good for a struggle.
But the crew of the cutter had not long to speculate about the
condition of the disabled ship. Down from her davits dropped the
huge lifeboat full of men. A moment it paused alongside, while the
sailors who had manned the falls slid down them into the boat. Then
the little craft was shoved clear of the crippled ship and pulled
over to the _Iroquois_. Up the side of the cutter the frightened
sailors scrambled like terrified sheep. Plainly they were
foreigners. And the commander of the _Iroquois_ opened his eyes
wide, when he noted that many of them were Englishmen. He was not
surprised that the others were panic-stricken.
The captain of the _Wilmington_ was the last man to come aboard. His
expression was pitiful. “I could have saved my ship,” he cried, “if
it had not been for this cowardly crew. The forward hold is full of
water, but the bulkhead is holding well. We could have made Halifax
in a few hours.”
The executive officer was standing by. “Captain Hardwick,” he said,
“will you allow me to take a volunteer crew and work the
_Wilmington_ into Halifax? It’s a crime to abandon a ship like
that.”
“You may try it, Mr. Harris, if you wish.”
The executive officer turned and faced the crew of the _Iroquois_,
who were gathered forward of the ladder. “How many of you are
willing to help me work the _Wilmington_ into Halifax?” he cried.
The crew sprang forward as one man. The commander of the Wilmington
strode over to Mr. Harris. “I’m going back with you,” he said. Half
a dozen of the Englishmen followed. “We’re with you, Captain,” they
said.
The executive officer chose twenty men from the crew of the
_Iroquois_. They climbed down the ladder into the _Wilmington’s_
waiting boat, the Englishmen following. The executive officer, who
had been below all the evening, drew off his low shoes and began to
pull on high laced boots.
Henry ran out of the radio shack. “Please, may I go?” he cried.
“No,” said the executive officer. “This is no place for boys.”
Henry fell on his knees and began to lace up the executive officer’s
boots. “Please, Mr. Harris,” he pleaded. “You can’t get along
without a radio man.”
“The _Wilmington’s_ own radio man is going back,” said the executive
officer shortly.
“But he will need a relief.”
“Not before we reach Halifax.”
“Then let me go and sling chow. You haven’t any mess-boy. I can do
other jobs between meals.”
By this time the executive officer was almost in the boat. He took a
last look upward.
“Please, Mr. Harris,” pleaded Henry, “please let me go.”
“Come on, then,” growled the executive officer. “But it’s no place
for boys.”
Eagerly Henry followed his leader into the waiting boat. The craft
was pushed away from the cutter and strong arms soon carried her
alongside the _Wilmington_. In a few moments more the lifeboat swung
at her davits, and the volunteer crew had scattered to their
respective posts. Slowly the crippled ship got under way. She seemed
to ride safely, and the prospects for saving her were excellent. For
a little while the _Iroquois_ lay motionless, while her commander
studied the movements of the _Wilmington_. Then, satisfied that she
could make her goal, Captain Hardwick signaled the men in the
engine-room, the cutter began to move, and soon was steaming
steadily away from the _Wilmington_, to begin her search for the
_Hiawatha_. But Captain Hardwick had not seen the gaping hole in the
far side of the Wilmington’s nose.
On board the _Wilmington_ every one was working at top speed. Men
who had never passed coal before, now hustled fuel for the furnaces.
The few experienced firemen in the volunteer crew were supplemented
by inexperienced men. The engines were tended, the pumps were kept
running, the ship was navigated, and all was done with heroic
determination. Even the firemen, like everybody else, worked double
shifts. The man who was to cook passed coal for hours, then washed
and made hot coffee and sandwiches, which Henry passed to the men to
munch while they labored. Then Henry went below to pass coal.
Everybody on board was working with dogged determination. They were
going to get the _Wilmington_ into Halifax if it was humanly
possible.
Nobly the crippled freighter responded. She forged through the waves
faster and faster until she was making seven and a half knots an
hour. With satisfaction Mr. Harris sent the good news to the
commander of the _Iroquois_. But even at seven and a half knots an
hour, the _Wilmington_ had a long journey before her, and all the
while the sea was rising.
Dawn came, but no sun followed to light the day. The mists and fogs
increased. The wind bellowed with ever-increasing force. The seas
mounted upward, higher and higher, and with every passing hour the
storm grew worse. Viciously the waves crashed against the broken
nose of the _Wilmington_. Slower rode the crippled steamer, and
slower still. Both wind and seas held her back, and her commander
dared not drive her with the full power of his engines. The strain
on the bulkhead was terrific.
Noon came. The _Wilmington_ was still moving, though slowly. The
_Iroquois_ had found the _Hiawatha_ and taken her in tow. The
_Oneida_ was rushing out from Boston to help. At regular intervals
the _Wilmington’s_ wireless man sent some message to the _Iroquois_.
By early afternoon these became alarming. The pumps were no longer
holding their own, and water was gaining in the hold of the
_Wilmington_. By two o’clock the disabled ship was down by the head.
She could no longer buck the seas.
A little later her commander wired to Captain Hardwick, “Am trying
to steam backward.”
When he got the message, Captain Hardwick was worried, indeed.
“They’ll never make it,” he declared to Mr. Sharp. “Ask the _Oneida_
to hurry. We shall likely have to abandon the _Hiawatha_ and go back
to the _Wilmington_.”
On board the _Wilmington_, the volunteer crew was making a
superhuman effort to carry on. The attempt to steam backward was
unsuccessful. Lower settled the nose of the ship. It was desirable
to make a sea anchor, to hold the ship’s head to the waves. But now
the combers were crashing over the settling bow of the steamer, and
water was pouring into her hold through hatchways. It was impossible
for men to go below and get the materials necessary to make the sea
anchor. Disabled, sinking steadily lower in the bow, the crippled
vessel now rolled helplessly in the sea. It was merely a question of
time until she should go under.
At three o’clock the _Wilmington_ flashed a message to the
_Iroquois_. Mr. Sharp went white when he read it. “We are rolling
helplessly and settling fast. Vessel is doomed. Am preparing to
abandon ship. Will remain till last minute. Need help immediately.”
The instant Captain Hardwick read the order, he cast loose from the
_Hiawatha_ and headed about to save his own men. He sent a
reassuring message to the _Wilmington_, then another to the
_Hiawatha_, telling her to make a sea anchor, and keep in touch with
the _Oneida_, which would reach her in a few hours.
All the while wind and sea grew worse. But little did the commander
of the _Iroquois_ care. He had weathered many a storm that was worse
than this. He thought of only one thing: he must get to his men.
Relentlessly he pushed the cutter. He drove the crew. He was
everywhere, thinking of every contingency, preparing for every
emergency. He had the sick bay prepared. He got cots and medicines
in readiness. He warned the cook to be ready with hot drinks and
food. Men and ship alike responded to the dynamic influence of their
commander and drove the ship at a pace incredible.
As the sturdy cutter tore her way through the seas to reach the
_Wilmington_, that doomed vessel sank lower and lower in the head
and rolled ever more helplessly in the waves. Yet she floated. The
bulkhead still held. The pumps could still be operated, and the
volunteers were working feverishly to keep up steam and keep the
pumps at work. Even though the water gained, it gained but slowly.
Darkness came. The cutter was still far away. There were few rockets
left to fire, but every half hour one was shot skyward. A great
flare was made on deck, but with waves and spray dashing over the
ship it was difficult to keep the beacon burning. All the while the
wireless men kept in touch with the _Iroquois_. At times Henry
relieved him.
“We are listing very badly,” he called. “We cannot stay afloat much
longer. How long will it take you to reach us?”
Afar off, the watchers on the _Wilmington_ could now discern the
beam from the searchlight of the _Iroquois_, like a great pencil of
light reaching from sea to sky. Slowly it grew more distinct, but,
oh, so slowly. The efforts to keep the beacon burning were
redoubled. Once more Henry sent flashing a cry for help: “We are
sinking fast.”
Meantime, with some planks from one of the after holds, the men had
made life rafts. These were placed close to the stern, ready to be
pitched into the sea at a second’s warning. A single boat
remained—the one that had brought the crew from the _Iroquois_. All
the others had been lost, some in the collision, while others had
been torn away by the waves as the _Wilmington_ rolled in the trough
of the sea.
On came the _Iroquois_, though she was yet far away. “We are leaving
immediately,” Henry signaled at the direction of Mr. Harris. “We
have made some life rafts. Stand by to pick us up.”
When he had sent the message, Henry rejoined his commander on the
after deck of the _Wilmington_, where all the men were now gathered.
The bow of the freighter had sunk alarmingly. The big lifeboat still
swung at the _Wilmington’s_ davits, but these were peculiar, and
held the boat so that every roll of the ship threatened to submerge
the little craft. To save it from destruction, it was necessary to
get it into the sea.
“Stand by to lower the lifeboat,” shouted Mr. Harris.
The boat was made free and brought even with the rail. Every member
of the _Wilmington’s_ own crew now on the ship piled into it. One
sailor from the _Iroquois_ leaped after them.
“Lower away,” called the executive officer at a favorable moment,
“but be sure not to cut the painter.”
Yet no sooner was the little craft afloat than one of the
freighter’s panic-stricken men whipped out his knife and severed the
line that held her to the steamer. Like a shot she was flung far
from the side of the _Wilmington_. The men on the _Iroquois_,
waiting to slide down into the lifeboat, were left stranded on the
deck of the sinking vessel.
“Pull her back,” roared the executive officer.
The men in the lifeboat bent to their oars, but they were only
merchant sailors, and knew little about handling oars. They were
utterly unable to sweep the lifeboat up against the wind. Though
they pulled hard, the craft was driven steadily farther and farther
away in the darkness. In a moment it was lost to sight.
“Quick!” cried Mr. Harris. “Over with your life rafts.” The sailors
leaped to the rafts and slid them over the rail into the sea.
“After them,” shouted the executive officer. “It’s your last chance.
She’ll sink in a minute. Catch your rafts and swim away, or the
suction will take you down.”
Into the sea went the sailors, leaping from the _Wilmington’s_ rail
far, far out into the heaving waters. In a moment only Henry and his
commander were left.
“Over with you, Harper,” ordered the executive officer. “Try to get
to one of the rafts.”
Henry looked out over the side of the ship. All was inky darkness.
The _Iroquois_ could be seen coming on apace, but she was still one
thousand yards away. The winds were lashing the sea with fury. The
tumult of the waters was terrifying to hear. Henry was frightened as
he had never been before, but he did not lose his head. “I will go
when you go,” he said.
In his hand Mr. Harris held a long-barreled flash-light for
signaling, with a patent contact strip about the handle. Now through
the blackness of the night he was sending flashes of light, to
direct the oncoming cutter. Astonished, Henry saw that his commander
was sending a message just as he himself had learned to do through
the cutter’s blinkers, with dots and dashes of light. He stood
motionless and read the message, “Please hurry. My men are in the
water.”
A feeling of inexpressible admiration came over Henry. Here was a
man voluntarily risking his life to save his men. As calmly as
though he were safe ashore, instead of standing on the threshold of
death, the executive officer continued to flash his directing
signals. Then another thought came to Henry. “He’s a Coast Guard
officer. So am I. I’ll try to act like one.” He became calm. And as
he watched his big superior, so quiet and unafraid, fearful only
lest the _Iroquois_ should be too late to save his men, something of
the same feeling of strength and courage came to Henry.
“I’ll stay by him to the end,” he muttered.
He had not long to wait for the end. The _Wilmington_ suddenly began
to settle rapidly by the head. Her bulkhead had given way and the
sea was rushing in. As the freighter settled, she likewise turned.
The executive officer crawled aft, out over the taffrail, and
continued his signaling. A sweep of his torch, as he crawled to the
rail, revealed his feet. He was still clad in his heavy boots.
“You haven’t taken your boots off, Mr. Harris,” said Henry, quietly;
and whipping out his knife, he knelt once more at the feet of this
man who was above fear, cut the laces, and dragged off the heavy
boots. Before he had time to remove his own shoes there was a
terrific crash as the boiler exploded, and the stern of the
_Wilmington_ suddenly rose high in air.
“Jump!” shouted the commander; “and swim as far away as you can.”
He clutched Henry’s hand. Together they leaped far out from the
ship. In another second they were deep under the chilling water, and
Henry was fighting to reach the surface.
He came up gasping for breath. The ship was just plunging beneath
the waves. Above the roar of the winds Henry could distinguish the
sucking noise as she disappeared. He felt himself pulled toward the
spot where the ship had been. With all his might he strove against
the suction. Presently he felt that he had struggled free from it.
He swam about, calling for Mr. Harris. After a few minutes he heard
an answering call in the darkness. It was his commander. Rejoiced,
he swam toward the sound. Presently he bumped into something. It
proved to be one of the life rafts. He got up on it and called to
Mr. Harris. The latter swam to the raft and got on. No one else was
to be seen. From time to time they heard shouts.
The _Iroquois_ was now near at hand. On she came at full speed. With
her searchlight she was sweeping the waves. When she came to the
first of the men in the water, she hove to. One after another her
boats were lowered until all were afloat. In the bow of each rode a
sailor, armed with a powerful light. Over the waves coursed the
little boats, calling, searching, rescuing, for man after man was
plucked from the foaming waters and lifted to safety. Finally one of
the boats came toward the executive officer and Henry. The two
shouted in unison. Their cries were heard, and the boat came rapidly
toward them, but long before it reached them a sudden wave came
crashing over the raft and Henry lost his grip and was swept off
into the tumultuous sea.
He struggled to fight his way back, but he was almost paralyzed with
cold and worn out and exhausted. He feared he could never make it.
Suddenly he found himself in a grip of iron. The executive officer
had swum after him. They regained the raft. Desperately now Henry
clung to the planks, while his superior officer held fast to him
with his legs, all the while clinging to the planks with his hands.
The small boat came up and the two were lifted aboard.
What happened after that Henry hardly knew, but presently he found
himself in the engine-room of the cutter. He was being stripped and
rubbed. Some one was giving him hot coffee to drink.
When he was able to get about the ship, he inquired for the others
who had been in the sea. The lifeboat, so clumsily manned, had
capsized, and one of the English sailors had been drowned. Every
other man who had gone to the _Wilmington_ had been rescued. He
learned that the _Oneida_ had found the _Hiawatha_ and that both
boats were safely on their way to Boston.
Two days later the _Iroquois_ lay peacefully at her anchor off St.
George. Rollin came to the wireless shack looking for Henry, who had
entirely recovered from his hard experience.
“The captain wants to see you, Mr. Harper,” he said.
Henry rose and made his way to the cabin, wondering what the
commander wanted now.
“I suppose you will be going to see your friends at your first
opportunity, Henry,” said the captain.
“Indeed I shall, sir.”
“You’ll have a lot to tell them,” smiled the commander.
“Won’t they be surprised when they hear all I’ve got to say!”
“Mr. Harris has been telling me about the last moments of the
_Wilmington_,” continued Captain Hardwick. “Of course your
probationary period was up long ago, as you know, Henry, but you
haven’t had a chance to see your friends since then. It occurred to
me that when you tell them you have passed your probationary period
satisfactorily, you might like to add that Captain Hardwick says you
have qualified for the Coast Guard in every way. Do you understand,
sir? In _every_ way.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Henry. “Thank you very much;” and with heart
beating high he marched from the cabin and made ready to go over to
Manhattan to tell Willie and Roy the news of his permanent
appointment as third-class radio man on the good ship _Iroquois_.