MAKING THE BEST OF IT
“Are you there, Sam?”
“Yes, Ned.”
“Safe and sound?”
“I think so.”
Overhead the wind still whistled, but more moderately; around me I could
hear the men stirring, with an occasional groan. We had come from the
tempest-tossed seas into a place of comparative quiet, which just now
was darker than the pocket of Erebus.
I found the after cabin and slid down the steps, which inclined
sidewise. Inside, however, the hanging lamps had withstood the shock and
still cast a dim light over the room. I found Uncle Naboth reclining
upon a bench with his feet braced against the table, while he puffed
away complacently at one of his enormous cigars.
“Stopped at a way station, Sam?” he enquired.
“So it appears, Uncle.”
“Any damage?”
“Can’t tell, yet. Were you hurt?”
He exhibited a great lump on his forehead, but smiled sweetly.
“You should ’a’ seen me dive under the table, Sam. It were a reg’lar
circus, with me the chief acrobat. Where are we?”
“I’m going to find out.”
I unhooked both the lanterns and started up the companion-way with them.
Rather than remain in the dark Uncle brought himself and his cigar after
me.
I gave Ned one of the lights and we began to look about us. Duncan Moit
lay unconscious beside his machine, the engines of which were still
running smoothly. I threw back the lever and stopped them, and then a
couple of seamen carried the inventor into the cabin. Black Nux had
lighted another lantern, and with my uncle’s assistance undertook to do
what he could to restore the injured man.
Ned and I slid aft and found the stern still washed by a succession of
waves that dashed over it. Walking the deck was difficult because the
ship listed from stem to stern and from port to starboard. Her bow was
high and dry on a sand-bar—or such I imagined it to be—but it was only
after I had swung a lantern up a halyard of the foremast, so that its
dim rays would illumine the largest possible area, that I discovered we
had plunged straight into a deep inlet of the coast. On one side of us
appeared to be a rank growth of tangled shrubs or underbrush; on the
other was the outline of a forest. Ahead was clear water, but its
shallow depth had prevented our proceeding farther inland.
Either the gale had lessened perceptibly or we did not feel it so keenly
in our sheltered position. An examination of the men showed that one of
them had broken an arm and several others were badly bruised; but there
were no serious casualties.
The ship was now without any motion whatever, being fast on the bottom
of the inlet. The breakers that curled over the stern did her no damage,
and these seemed to be gradually lessening in force.
Ned sent his tired men to their bunks and with the assistance of
Bryonia, who was almost as skillful in surgery as in cooking, prepared
to set the broken arm and attend to those who were the most bruised.
I went to the cabin again, and found that Uncle Naboth and Nux had been
successful in restoring Duncan Moit, who was sitting up and looking
around him with a dazed expression. I saw he was not much hurt, the fall
having merely stunned him for the time being.
“The machine—the machine!” he was muttering, anxiously.
“It’s all right, sir,” I assured him. “I shut down the engines, and she
seems to have weathered the shock in good shape.”
He seemed relieved by this report, and passed his hand across his brow
as if to clear his brain.
“Where are we?” was his next query.
“No one knows, sir. But we are landed high and dry, and I’m almost sure
it is some part of the coast of Panama. To-morrow morning we can
determine our location more accurately. But now, Mr. Moit, I recommend
that you tumble into your bunk and get all the rest you can before
daybreak.”
The strain of the last few days had been severe upon all of us, and now
that the demand for work or vigilance was removed we found that our
strength had been overtaxed. I left Ned to set a watch, and sought my
own bed, on which I stretched myself to fall asleep in half a minute.
“Wake up, Mars’ Sam,” said Nux, shaking me. “Breakfas’ ready, seh.”
I rubbed my eyes and sat up. The sun was streaming through the cabin
window, which was on the port side. Around me was a peculiar silence
which contrasted strongly with the turmoil that had so long buffeted my
ears. The gale had passed on and left us to count the mischief it had
caused.
“What time is it, Nux?”
“Eight o’clock, Mars’ Sam.”
I sprang up, now fully conscious of the night’s tragedy, which sleep had
for a time driven from my mind. Nux stood with my basin and towel and
his calmness encouraged me to bathe before I went on deck.
In the mess-cabin I found that the table legs had been propped up with
boxes to hold it level, and that a hot breakfast had been prepared and
was now steaming on the table. Around the board were gathered Ned
Britton, Uncle Naboth and Duncan Moit, all busily engaged in eating.
They greeted me cheerfully and bade me sit down and join them.
“How is everything, Ned?” I enquired, anxiously.
“Bad as can be, an’ right as a trivet, Sam,” he replied. “The _Gladys
H._’ll never float again. Her bottom’s all smashed in, an’ she’s fast in
the mud till she goes to pieces an’ makes kindlin’-wood for the Injuns.”
“Then the cargo is safe, for the present?”
“To be sure. It can’t get lost, ’cause it’s a chunk o’ steel, and the
ship’s planks’ll hold it in place for a long time. It’ll get good and
soaked, but I’ve noticed it’s all painted to keep it from rustin’. This
ain’t San Pedro, whatever else it is, and the voyage has miscarried a
bit; but them beams is a good deal better off here than at the bottom o’
the sea, so I take it we’ve done the best we could by the owners.”
I sat down and took the coffee Nux poured for me.
“How about the crew?” I asked. “Are the men all right?”
“No body hurt but Dick Lombard, and his arm’ll mend nicely.”
“Have you any idea where we are, Ned?”
“Stuck in a river, somewhere. Wild country all around us, but I guess we
can find a way out. Lots o’ provisions and a good climate. We may say as
we’re in luck, Sam.”
I shook my head dismally. It did not appear to me that luck had
especially favored us. To be sure, we might have gone to the bottom of
the Caribbean in the gale; but it struck me we had landed the cargo in
an awkward place for the owners as well as for ourselves. Mr. Harlan
would have done better had he not taken the long chance of our making
the voyage to San Pedro successfully.
“Well, I cannot see that we have failed in our duty, in any way,” I
remarked, as cheerfully as I could, “so we may as well make the best of
it.”
“This bein’ a tourist, an’ travellin’ fer pleasure,” said Uncle Naboth,
“is more fun than a kickin’ mule. Sam’s got to worry, ’cause he’s paid
fer it; but we passengers can look on an’ enjoy ourselves. Eh, Mr.
Moit?”
“It is a serious situation for me,” replied the inventor. “Think of it,
gentlemen! The most wonderful piece of mechanism the world has yet known
is stranded in a wilderness, far from civilization.”
“That is your own fault,” remarked Ned, bluntly.
“Not that, sir; it is fate.”
“The machine is all right,” said I. “You will have no trouble to save
it.”
“As for that, I must, of course, make the best of the adverse
circumstances that have overtaken me,” he replied, with more composure
than I had expected. “It is not my nature to be easily discouraged, else
I could never have accomplished what I have in the perfection of any
inventions. My greatest regret, at this moment, is that the world will
be deprived, for a longer period than I had intended, of the benefits of
my Convertible Automobile.”
“Having never known its excellent qualities, sir, the world can wait,”
asserted Uncle Naboth, philosophically. I have noticed one can be quite
philosophical over another’s difficulties.
Having hurried through my breakfast, which our faithful Bryonia had
prepared most excellently in spite of the fact that his galley was at an
angle of nearly forty-five degrees, I went on deck to obtain for the
first time a clear view of our surroundings.
The tide had changed and the wind fallen. We lay in the center of a
placid river—high and dry, as Ned had said—with the current gently
rippling against our bow. Not more than ten yards to the right was a
low, marshy bank covered with scrub underbrush of a tropical character.
On our left, however, and some fifty yards distant, lay a well defined
bank marking the edge of the stately forest which I had observed the
night before. The woodland gradually sloped upward from the river, and
above it, far to the south, a formidable range of mountains was visible.
Between us and this left bank the water seemed a fair depth, but it was
quite shallow on our right. It seemed wonderful that any gale could have
sent so big a ship so far up the river; but I remembered that the
billows had followed us in, and doubtless their power alone had urged us
forward.
Here we were, anyway, and here the _Gladys H._ must remain until
demolished by time, tide or human endeavor.
For the rest, the air was warm and pleasant, with a blue sky overhead.
Aside from the loss that would follow the salvage of the valuable cargo
we had good reason to thank Providence for our fortunate escape from
death.
I felt that I had done as much to promote the interests of the owners as
any man could do; but the conditions had been adverse, and the
responsibility was now theirs, and not mine.
The gravest part of the situation, so far as I was personally concerned,
was to get my men into some civilized port where they could find an
opportunity to get home again. Also I must notify Mr. Harlan, by cable,
and that as soon as possible, of the location and condition of his
cargo. The loss of the ship I knew would matter little to him, as he had
asserted this several times.
And now to solve the problem of our location. I had reason to believe
that we had not varied to any great extent from the course my chart had
indicated. Somewhere, either up or down the coast, was Colon, the
Atlantic terminal of the Panama canal, and to reach that place ought not
to be especially difficult, because our small boats were in fairly good
condition.
The river made a bend just ahead of us, and my first thought was to get
out a boat and explore the stream for a way. We might find some village,
I imagined, or at least some evidence of human habitation.
So I ordered the gig lowered and took with me four men, besides Duncan
Moit, who wanted to go along and begged the privilege. The current was
languid and easy to breast, so we made excellent progress.
Bend after bend we made, for the stream was as crooked as a ram’s horn;
but always the forest towered on the one hand and the low, marshy flats
prevailed upon the other.
Rowing close to the shore, under the shadow of the trees, we could hear
the stealthy sound of wild beasts in the wilderness, and once we espied
a sleek jaguar lying flat upon the bank to drink. But no sign of man or
civilization of any sort did we encounter. Even the woodman’s axe was
nowhere in evidence.
We hugged the forest for several miles, finding the river easily
navigable for small steamers. Then we decided to return, and followed
the edge of the opposite marsh, which was much less inviting and less
liable to be inhabited than the other shore.
We were scarcely a mile from the ship when Moit suddenly exclaimed:
“Isn’t that a canoe?”
“Where?” I asked.
He pointed to a small inlet, and I could see plainly a craft that looked
like an Indian dugout lying among the reeds.
“Let us get it and see what it looks like,” said I, hailing with some
satisfaction this first evidence of human handicraft.
At the word my men rowed in, and the sailor in the bow, as he grasped
the gunwale of the canoe, uttered a startled cry.
“What is it?” I asked.
Without reply he drew the canoe alongside our boat, and we could all see
the form of a man lying flat upon his face on the rough bottom.