THE CRASH IN THE FOG
STEVE was thrown flat on his face on the bridge, while Bob Jarvis
doubled up, wedged into the forepeak of the boat on the deck below.
"Full speed astern!" roared the captain.
The chains of the pilot-house telegraph rattled ominously and the
propeller, nearly six hundred feet aft of the bridge, began whirling the
other way at tremendous speed.
"Hey! What--what--what's happened?" shouted Bob Jarvis. "Have we hit the
shore?"
"Close the water-tight bulkheads!" commanded Captain Simms. The mate
threw over the electric switch that gave the signal for the closing of
all water-tight doors and bulkheads.
"Sound the general alarm!"
Gongs began to ring all over the ship.
"Order the engine and stoke room crews to stand by their tricks. I'll
give them warning in time in case we have been badly hit."
The mate obeyed quickly and without a single lost motion. By this time
Steve had leaped to his feet. Ahead of him, it seemed almost on top of
them, loomed a great black hull. Lights shone dimly through the heavy
pall of fog. He understood without having to be told what had happened.
The "Wanderer" had come into collision with another ship, presumably the
same one whose lights the bridge watch had been watching off to
starboard earlier in the evening. Even in the excitement of the moment
Rush did not understand how this thing could have happened, if the other
boat had held to the courses she was on when he last saw the other boat.
"Make ready the lifeboats!" commanded the captain of the "Wanderer."
Then, raising his megaphone to his lips, the master bellowed through it:
"Are you hard hit?"
"We have a hole punched in our side big enough for you to go through.
Stand by until we can find out whether we'll float or not."
"Aye, aye, we'll stand by. We want to find out how much of a smash _we_
have got. Mr. Major, get down there and examine the nose of our boat,
and see how much of a bang we got. It's lucky for us that we hit the
other craft in the position we did."
The mate hurried down to where Bob was still on watch. Even after the
crash had come, and he had picked himself up, Jarvis stuck to his post,
though he believed the ship to be sinking. And, besides, Bob being
right at the point of the collision, so close in fact that woodwork from
the other boat showered over him in a perfect rain, got the full force
of it. He was bruised and battered, he had lost his hat and he was
greatly shaken up by the terrific impact.
The "Wanderer" had backed away to a safe distance, and the first mate
was now making an examination of her wound.
"We've broken our nose off," he called up to the bridge.
"Is she taking in any water?"
"Yes, sir; but I think the bulkhead will hold it so we won't go down."
"Good! Ahoy, coal carrier there."
"Aye, aye," came the reply from the deck of the stranger.
"Who are you?"
"The 'James Macomber,' coal laden, bound for Shoal Island."
"Well, I must say you are doing some fine steering. What are you doing
over here?"
"We got out of position in the fog."
"I should say you did. How are you?"
"Listing badly to port and settling by the stern."
"Better get your boats over while you have the time. Shall we put over a
boat?"
"No; we can manage to get away if she goes."
"I tell you, you're going down! Get away while you've got the time."
"All right; stand by."
"Can I do anything, sir?" asked Steve.
"Yes; go aft and take two men with you. Take the boat and cast off. Lay
well away from the ship and give me a hail, so I'll know where you are.
Stand by and, mind you, don't drift away and get lost. We'll never pick
you up in this fog if you do. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Order Jarvis up to the bridge."
"Bob, come up here. The captain orders you to take the bridge."
Steve ran down the ladder to the forward deck, then on down to the main
deck, where all hands not otherwise engaged had assembled. They were
leaning over the side peering into the darkness to see what had
happened. Steve was beset by questions. He explained briefly what had
happened, repeating the captain's orders for himself and two men to man
the life-boat and put off to pick up any one needing assistance.
The second mate, then in charge of the deck, assigned two strong oarsmen
to go with Rush. The latter was to be in charge of the boat, so the
captain had said, though Steve was dubious about his ability to fill
that office. Of course he was interested in boats, but he was much more
familiar with drifts and levels than he was with navigation of the
lakes.
"Man the boat," ordered the second mate.
The men took their places in the life-boat, which already had been
hauled up ready for launching, the Iron Boy taking his place in the
stern by the tiller.
"Are you ready?"
"All ready."
"Cast off!" came the hoarse command from the second mate.
Steve instinctively grasped the gunwales of the life-boat as the craft
dropped toward the water. He thought the boat had broken loose from the
davits and was falling into the sea, so swift was its descent. Yet he
might have known from the sound of the groaning, creaking block and
tackle that he and his companions were still safe.
The life-boat struck the water with a loud splash, rocking perilously as
Steve, still gripping the sides, stood in a crouching position ready to
jump should the boat tip over. Then the little craft righted itself,
though it lay rising and falling, rolling and tossing perilously on the
long lake swell. Rush had no idea that the water was so turbulent.
"Cast off!"
The two oarsmen quickly unhooked the blocks from the rings at the
extreme ends of the small boat.
"Are you ready?" they asked.
"Yes," said Steve, though he was not certain whether he was ready or
not. His mind worked with its usual quickness, however. He knew that he
was expected to get off somewhere near the steamer "Macomber."
"Give way!" he commanded.
The sailors pushed the life-boat away from the side of the ship with
their oars; then, placing the oars in the locks, fell to pulling
steadily. Steve turned the tiller the wrong way the first thing. The
nose of the life boat hit the hull of the "Wanderer" with such force as
to throw the three men to the bottom of their boat.
"Lubbers!" bellowed the second mate from the deck of the ship. "What are
you trying to do--run us down?"
Steve's face was burning with mortification. Fortunately the night was
too dark for any one to see this.
"What's the matter with you?" demanded one of the oarsmen.
"I turned the tiller the wrong way," answered Rush truthfully. "Pull
away."
The men growled as they fell to their oars once more. A few swift
strokes and they were clear of their ship, Rush this time handling his
tiller with more skill than before. He tried the rudder cautiously and
found that it responded readily to the least movement of the tiller.
"Now I'm all right," he muttered. "That is if I don't run something else
down."
Swinging out in a wide circle the lad steered around the bow of the
"Wanderer," heading for the spot where he thought the distressed ship
lay.
"Lifeboat there!" bellowed the captain through his megaphone.
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Where you heading?"
"For the other ship."
"No you're not. You're heading for the shore. Pull to port a little
more. There, that's better. Look where you are going, now."
The captain's tone was stern and commanding. Steve leaned well forward,
peering into the thick fog ahead. He could not make out the other ship
as yet, though he could hear the shouting and the hoarsely uttered
commands on her deck. It was a scene such as he had never imagined
before, and it thrilled Steve Rush through and through. He felt that he
was ready for deeds of valor if he should only get the chance to perform
them.
"Steady, men," the boy warned. "We must be near the other ship now. I
can hear their voices more plainly. It is curious we can't see their
lights, though."
"That's because of the fog, cap'n," volunteered one of the sailors at
the oars.
"They're----"
"Look out! We're under the stern of the ship now!" cried Rush, throwing
his tiller hard to port.
The life boat hit the stern of the ship, far down under her counter,
with a resounding crash. There followed the sound of breaking woodwork,
as the gunwale of the lifeboat crashed in. The little craft shipped a
heavy sea, drenching all hands.
The sailors had dropped their oars and were preparing to jump.
"Sit down!" commanded the young skipper.
"We're sinking!"
"Well, if we are, let's get in a better place to do it. We don't want to
be floundering in the water under the stern of this sinking ship, do we?
Get to your oars and pull away!"
The Iron Boy's voice had assumed a tone of command. The men, recognizing
that he was not alarmed, bent themselves to their oars and pulled
quickly from their present dangerous position.
"Have we anything in the boat with which to bail it out?"
"No."
"Then we will sit in the water. I guess we can't be much wetter than we
are."
The men grumbled.
"Lay to, till I find out how badly we are injured."
A brief examination of the side of the boat that had come in contact
with the ship, showed that the gunwale had been smashed in, but the gash
did not extend far enough down to place the little boat in great danger
unless perhaps the sea rose high enough to wash over the side. As yet
the lake was rolling lazily as is usually the case in a fog, for a
breeze would quickly dispel the heaviest bank of fog and drive it away.
"We're all right," decided the young coxswain. "Pull around slowly."
Standing up in the stern of the life-boat with the tiller between his
legs, Steve hailed the disabled ship.
"Ahoy, there!" he called.
"Ahoy! Who are you?"
"Life-boat from the 'Wanderer.' If you want any help, sing out."
"We'll need it all right."
"Are you sinking?"
"We don't know. We're settling some."
"Got much water aboard?"
"More'n we need to drink. Come in closer, so we can get you if we need
to."
"How about your own boats?"
"Life boat smashed in the collision. Ship's raft is safe. That'll carry
most of us, perhaps all of us, if necessary."
"Better get it ready, then, in case anything happens," advised the lad,
who was rapidly becoming a seasoned sailor. "Pull in a little closer,
boys, but look sharp because we may have to get out in a hurry, in case
anything happens over there."
The boat drifted slowly in toward the injured ship. This time the little
craft had worked around abeam of the coaler, the latter's lights showing
dimly in the thick fog.
"Keep your siren going to warn off other ships, why don't you?" shouted
Rush.
The suggestion was a good one. It was instantly acted upon by the master
of the "Macomber." Then the "Wanderer" started her siren going, the
hoarse voices of the whistles sounding dull and unreal through the fog.
Steve grinned appreciatively.
"At least I have made one good suggestion," he muttered. "There will be
no excuse for any other ship hereabouts running into us. That would be a
nice mess."
Suddenly there arose a commotion on board the damaged coaler. The shouts
grew louder. The crash of a steel hatch falling into place could be
heard here and there. A loud splash sounded between the life-boat and
the ship.
"Somebody's overboard!" cried Steve. "Pull in!"
"Life-boat there!"
"Aye, aye!"
"We're sinking by the stern!"
"Pull in quick, lads!" commanded Steve Rush.