In the office of the Red Stack Tug Boat Company, Captain Dan
Hicks, master of the tug _Aphrodite_; Captain Jack Flaherty,
master of the _Bodega_, and Tiernan, the assistant superintendent
on night watch, sat around a hot little box stove engaged in that
occupation so dear to the maritime heart, to-wit: spinning yarns.
Dan Hicks had the floor, and was relating a tale that had to do
with his life as a freight and passenger skipper.
"We was makin' up to the dock when I see the general agent
standin' in the door o' the dock office--an' all of a sudden I
didn't feel so chipper about havin' crossed Humboldt bar in a
sou'easter. I saw the old man runnin' his eye along forty foot o'
twisted pipe railin', a wrecked bridge, three bent stanchions an'
every door an' window on the starboard side o' the ship stove in,
while the passengers crowded the rail lookin' cold an' miserable,
pea-green an' thankful. No need for me to do any explainin'. He
knew. He throws his dead fish eye up to me on what's left o' the
bridge an' I felt my job was vacant.
"'We was hit by a sea or two on Humboldt bar, sir,' I says, as if
gettin' hit by a sea or two an' havin' the ship gutted was an
every-day experience."
"'Is that so, Hicks?' says he sweetly. 'Well, now, if you hadn't
told me that I'd ha' jumped to the conclusion that a couple o'
the mess boys had got fightin' an' wrecked the ship before you
could separate 'em. Why in this an' that,' he says, 'didn't you
stick inside when any dumb fool could see the bar was breakin'?'
"'I wanted to keep the comp'ny's sailin' schedule unbroken, sir,'
I says, tryin' to be funny.
"'Well, Captain,' he says, 'it 'pears to me you've broken damned
near everything else tryin' to do it.'
"I was certain he was goin' to set me down, but the worst I got
was a three months' lay-off to teach me common sense----"
The telephone rang and Tiernan answered. Hicks and Flaherty
hitched forward in their chairs to listen.
"Hello.... Yes, Red Stack office.... Steamer _Yankee Prince_....
What's that?... silk and rice?... Half a mile below the Cliff
House, eh?... Sure, I'll send a tug right away, Lindstrom."
Tiernan hung up and faced the two skippers. "Gentlemen," he
announced, "here's a chance for a little salvage money to-night.
The American steamer _Yankee Prince_ is ashore half a mile below
the Cliff House. She's a big tramp with a valuable cargo from
Hong Kong, with her rudder gone and her crank shaft busted."
"It's high water at twelve thirty-seven," Jack Flaherty pleaded.
"You'd better send me, Tiernan. The _Bodega_ has more power than
the _Aphrodite_."
This was the truth and Dan Hicks knew it, but he was not to be
beaten out of his share of the salvage by such flimsy argument.
"Jack," he pleaded, "don't be a hog all the time. The _Yankee
Prince_ is an eight thousand ton vessel and it's a two-tug job.
Better send us both, Tiernan, and play safe. Chances are our
competitors have three tugs on the way right now."
"What a wonderful imagination you have, Dan. Eight thousand tons!
You're crazy, man. She's thirteen hundred net register and I know
it because I was in Newport News when they launched her, and I
went out with her skipper on the trial trip. She's a long,
narrow-gutted craft, with engines aft, like a lake steamer."
"We'll play safe," Tiernan decided. "Go to it--both of you, and
may the best man win. She'll belong to you, Jack, if she's
thirteen hundred net and you get your line aboard first. If she's
as big as Dan says she is, you'll be equal partners----"
But he was talking to himself. Down the dock Hicks and Flaherty
were racing for the respective commands, each shouting to his
night watchman to pipe all hands on deck. Fortunately, a goodly
head of steam was up in each tug's boilers; because of the fog
and the liability to collisions and a consequent hasty summons,
one engineer on each tug was on duty. Before Hicks and Flaherty
were in their respective pilot houses the oil burners were
roaring lustily under their respective boilers; the lines were
cast off within a minute of each other, and the two tugs raced
down the bay through the darkness and fog.
Both Hicks and Flaherty had grown old in the towboat service and
the rules of the road rested lightly on their sordid souls. They
were going over a course they knew by heart--wherefore the fog
had no terrors for them. Down the bay they raced, the _Bodega_
leading slightly, both tugs whistling at half-minute intervals.
Out through the Gate they nosed their way, heaving the lead
continuously, made a wide detour around Mile Rock and the Seal
Rocks, swung a mile to the south of the position of the _Maggie_,
and then came cautiously up the coast, whistling continuously to
acquaint the _Yankee Prince_ with their presence in the
neighbourhood. In anticipation of the necessity for replying to
this welcome sound, Captain Scraggs and Mr. Gibney had, for the
past two hours, busied themselves getting up another head of
steam in the _Maggie's_ boilers, repairing the whistle, and
splicing the wires of the engine room telegraph. Like the wise
men they were, however, they declined to sound the _Maggie's_
siren until the tugs were quite close. Even then, Mr. Gibney
shuddered, but needs must when the devil drives, so he pulled the
whistle cord and was rewarded with a weird, mournful grunt, dying
away into a gasp.
"Sounds like she has the pip," Jack Flaherty remarked to his
mate.
"Must have taken on some of that dirty Asiatic water," Dan Hicks
soliloquized, "and now her tubes have gone to glory."
Immediately, both tugs kicked ahead under a dead slow bell,
guided by a series of toots as brief as Mr. Gibney could make
them, and presently both tug lookouts reported breakers dead
ahead; whereupon Jack Flaherty got out his largest megaphone and
bellowed: "_Yankee Prince_, ahoy!" in his most approved fashion.
Dan Hicks did likewise. This irritated the avaricious Flaherty,
so he turned his megaphone in the direction of his rival and
begged him, if he still retained any of the instincts of a
seaman, to shut up; to which entreaty Dan Hicks replied with an
acidulous query as to whether or not Jack Flaherty thought he
owned the sea.
For half a minute this mild repartee continued, to be interrupted
presently by a whoop from out of the fog. It was Mr. Gibney. He
did not possess a megaphone so he had gone below and appropriated
a section of stove-pipe from the galley range, formed a
mouthpiece of cardboard and produced a makeshift that suited his
purpose admirably.
"Cut out that bickerin' like a pair of old women an' 'tend to
your business," he commanded. "Get busy there--both of you, and
shoot a line aboard. There's work enough for two."
Dan Hicks sent a man forward to heave the lead under the nose of
the _Aphrodite_, which was edging in gingerly toward the voice.
He had a searchlight but he did not attempt to use it, knowing
full well that in such a fog it would be of no avail. Guided,
therefore, by the bellowings of Mr. Gibney, reinforced by the
shrill yips of Captain Scraggs, the tug crept in closer and
closer, and when it seemed that they must be within a hundred
feet of the surf, Dan Hicks trained his Lyle gun in the direction
of Mr. Gibney's voice and shot a heaving line into the fog.
Almost simultaneous with the report of the gun came a shriek of
pain from Captain Scraggs. Straight and true the wet, heavy
knotted end of the heaving line came in over the _Maggie's_
quarter and struck him in the mouth. In the darkness he staggered
back from the stinging blow, clutched wildly at the air, slipped
and rolled over among the vegetables with the precious rope
clasped to his breast.
"I got it," he sputtered, "I got it, Gib."
"Safe, O!" Mr. Gibney bawled. "Pay out your hawser."
They met it at the taffrail as it came up out of the breakers,
wet but welcome. "Pass it around the mainmast, Scraggsy," Mr.
Gibney cautioned. "If we make fast to the towin' bits, the first
jerk'll pull the anchor bolts up through the deck."
When the hawser had been made fast to the mainmast, the leathern
lungs of Mr. Gibney made due announcement of the fact to the
expectant Captain Hicks. "As soon as you feel you've got a grip
on her," he yelled, "just hold her steady so she won't drive
further up the beach when I get my anchor up. She'll come out
like a loose tooth at the tip of the flood."
The _Aphrodite_ forged slowly ahead, taking in the slack of the
hawser. Ten minutes passed but still the hawser lay limp across
the _Maggie's_ stern. Presently out of the fog came the voice of
Captain Dan Hicks.
"Flaherty! Flaher-tee! For the love of life, Jack, where are you?
Chuck me a line, Jack. My hawser's snarled in my screw and I'm
drifting on to the beach."
"Leggo your anchor, you boob," Jack Flaherty advised.
"I want a line an' none o' your damned advice," raved Hicks.
"'Tain't my fault if you get in too close."
"I'm bumping, Jack. I'm bangin' the heart out of her. Come on,
you cur, and haul me off."
"If I pull you off, Dan Hicks, will you leave that steamer
alone? You've had your chance and failed to smother it. Now let
me have a hack at her."
"It's a bargain, Jack. I'm not badly snarled; if you haul me out
to deep water I can shake the hawser loose. I'm afraid to try so
close in."
"Comin'," yelled Flaherty.
"Now, ain't that a raw deal?" Scraggs complained. "That junk
thief gets hauled off first."
"The first shall be last an' the last shall be first," Gibney
quoted piously. "Don't be a crab, Scraggs. Pray that the fog
don't lift."
Out of the fog there rose a great hubbub of engine room gongs,
the banging of the _Bodega's_ Lyle gun, and much profanity.
Presently this ceased, so Scraggs and Gibney knew Dan Hicks was
being hauled off at last. While they waited for further
developments, Scraggs sucked at his old pipe and Mr. Gibney
munched a French carrot. "If you hadn't canned McGuffey," the
latter opined, "we might have been able to back off under our own
power as soon as the tide is at flood. This delay is worryin'
me."
Following some fifteen minutes of kicking and struggling out in
the deep water, whither the _Bodega_ had dragged her, the
_Aphrodite_ at length freed herself of the clinging hawser;
whereupon she backed in again, cautiously reeving in the hawser
as she came. Presently, Dan Hicks, true to his promise to abandon
the prize to Jack Flaherty, turned his megaphone beachward and
shouted:
"_Yankee Prince_, ahoy! Cast off my hawser. The other tug will
put a line aboard you."
But Mr. Gibney was now master of the situation. He had a good
hemp hawser stretching between him and salvation and until he
should be hauled off he had no intention of slipping that cable.
"Nothin' doin'," he answered. "We're hard an' fast, I tell you,
and I'll take no chances. It's you or both of you, but I'll not
cast off this hawser. If you want to let go, cast the hawser off
at your end." Sotto voce he remarked to Scraggs: "I see him
slippin' a three hundred dollar hawser, eh, Scraggsy, old
stick-in-the-mud?"
"But I promised Flaherty I'd let you alone," pleaded Hicks.
"What do you think you have your string fast to, anyhow? A bay
scow? If you fellows endanger my ship bickerin' over the salvage
I'll have you before the Inspectors on charges as sure as God
made little apples. I got sixty witnesses here to back up my
charges, too."
"You hear him, Jack?" howled Hicks.
"Wouldn't that swab Flaherty drive you to drink," Gibney
complained. "Trumpin' his partner's ace just for the glory an'
profit o' gettin' ahead of him?" Aloud he addressed the invisible
Flaherty: "Take it or leave it, brother Flaherty."
"I'll take it," Flaherty responded promptly.
Twenty minutes later, after much backing and swearing and heaving
of lines the _Bodega's_ hawser was finally put board the
_Maggie_. Mr. Gibney judged it would be safe now to fasten this
line to the towing bitts.
Suddenly, Captain Scraggs remembered there was no one on duty in
the _Maggie's_ engine room. With a half sob, he slid down the
greasy ladder, tore open the furnace doors and commenced
shovelling in coal with a recklessness that bordered on insanity.
When the indicator showed eighty pounds of steam he came up on
deck and discovered Mr. Gibney walking solemnly round and round
the little capstan up forward. It was creaking and groaning
dismally. Captain Scraggs thrust his engine room torch above his
head to light the scene and gazed upon his navigating officer in
blank amazement.
"What foolishness is this, Gib?" he demanded. "Are you clean
daffy, doin' a barn dance around that rusty capstan, makin' a
noise fit to frighten the fish?"
"Not much," came the laconic reply. "I'm a smart man. I'm raisin'
both anchors."
"Well, all I got to remark is that it takes a smart man to raise
both anchors when we only got one anchor to our blessed name. An'
with that anchor safe on the fo'castle head, I, for one, can't
see no sense in raisin' it."
"You tarnation jackass!" sighed Gibney. "You forget who we are.
Do you s'pose the steamer _Yankee Prince_ can lay on the beach
all night with both anchors out, an' then be got ready to tow off
in three shakes of a lamb's tail? It takes noise to get up two
anchors--so I'm makin' all the noise I can. Got any steam?"
"Eighty pounds," Scraggs confessed. Having for the moment
forgotten his identity, he was confused in the presence of the
superior intelligence of his navigating officer.
"Run aft, then, Scraggs, an' turn that cargo winch over to beat
the band until I tell you to stop. With the drum runnin' free
she'll make noise enough for a winch three times her size, but
you might give the necessary yells to make it more lifelike."
Captain Scraggs fled to the winch. At the end of five minutes,
Mr. Gibney appeared and bade him desist. Then, turning, his
improvised megaphone seaward he addressed an imaginary mate: "Mr.
Thompson, have you got your port anchor up?"
Scraggs took the cue immediately. "All clear forward, sir," he
piped.
"Send the bosun for'd an' heave the lead, Mr. Thompson."
"Very well, sir."
Here The Squarehead, who had been enjoying the unique situation
immensely, decided to take a hand. Presently, in sing-song
cadence he was reporting the depth of water alongside.
"That'll do, bosun," Gibney thundered. Then, in his natural voice
to Scraggs: "All set, Scraggsy. Guess we're ready to be pulled
off. Get down in the engine room and stand by for full speed
ahead when I give the word."
"Quick! Hurry!" Scraggs entreated as he disappeared through the
little engine-room hatch, for the tide was now at the tip of the
flood and the _Maggie_ was bumping wickedly and driving further
up the beach. Mr. Gibney turned his stovepipe seaward and
shouted: "Tugboats, ahoy!"
"Ahoy!" they answered in unison.
"All read-y-y-y! Let 'er go-o-o-o!"
The Squarehead stationed himself at the bitts with a lantern and
Mr. Gibney hastened to the pilot house and took his place at the
wheel. When the hawsers commence to lift out of the sea, The
Squarehead gave a warning shout, whereupon Mr. Gibney called the
engine room. "Give her the gun," he commanded Scraggs. "Pull
against them tugs for all you're worth. Remember this is the
steamer _Yankee Prince_. We must not come off too readily."
Captain Scraggs opened the throttle, and while the two tugs
steadily drew her off into deep water, the _Maggie_ fought
valiantly to stick to the beach and even to continue her
interrupted journey overland. She merely succeeded in stretching
both hawsers taut; slowly she was drawn seaward, stern first, and
at the expiration of fifteen minutes' steady pulling, Mr. Gibney
could restrain himself no longer. He rang for full speed
astern--and got it promptly. Then, calling Neils Halvorsen to aid
him, he abandoned the wheel and scrambled aft.
With no one at the wheel the _Maggie_ shot off at a tangent and
the hawsers slacked immediately. In the twinkling of an eye Mr.
Gibney had cast them off, and as the ends disappeared with a
swish over the stern he ran back to the pilot house, rang for
full speed ahead, put his helm hard over, and headed the _Maggie_
in the general direction of China, although as a matter of fact
he cared not what direction he pursued, provided he got away from
the beach and placed distance between the _Maggie_ and two
soon-to-be-furious tugboat skippers.