TOSSED UP BY THE WAVES
THE light that Steve Rush had seen, the winking, twinkling light came
from the lighthouse on North Point. The North Point light was a
revolving affair, which accounted for its vanishing and then reappearing
at stated intervals.
A few hours passed, though they were as seconds to the unconscious boy
on the slender raft. At last he began to feel a glow spreading over his
benumbed body. He moved a little, took a long breath then settled back
into his former stupor. But the warmth continued to spread. Steve felt a
sense of being on fire. After a while he realized that the support under
him was no longer moving, though he could hear the roar of the waves in
his ears. He found himself dimly wondering why they did not break over
him and drench him and chill him to the marrow.
Steve tried to raise one hand to his head, but the hand was pinioned so
that he could not move it. His curiosity was becoming aroused. Rush
opened his eyes. Before him and above him was a rocky, precipitous
coast. Then in a rush of understanding he realized that he was lying on
the rocky shore of the lake coast. Both hands were still under the door,
which accounted for his inability to raise one of them a few minutes
since.
The sun was beating down hotly, warming the Iron Boy's blood, sending it
more rapidly through his veins.
With a cry of thankfulness Steve Rush got unsteadily to his feet. He was
so stiff that he could hardly stand, though the numbness of a few hours
since was fast passing away.
"I have been carried to the shore and I'm saved!" he shouted. "This is
the most wonderful thing that ever has happened to me. But I wonder
where I am."
It was early in the morning, that was certain. He judged the hour must
be about seven o'clock. His watch had stopped at midnight. Turning
quickly the lad glanced out over the green waters of the lake that
sparkled in the morning sunlight, a gentle ripple ruffling the surface.
Here and there a huge ore carrier was observed, working its way up or
down the lake. Far in the offing thin ribbons of gray smoke told where
other vessels were steaming along.
"I wonder if any of those ships is the 'Wanderer'?" mused the Iron Boy.
"And I wonder something else, too--I wonder whether I am going to get
any breakfast or not. It is useless for me to try to signal a ship in
here. They probably would not come in even if they saw me, as I imagine
this is shoal water all around here. There must be some one living about
here somewhere. I'll start on a little exploring tour for breakfast."
Steve turned away and began climbing up the rocks. This being his first
passage over the lakes, he was not at all familiar with the coast and
consequently had no idea where he was.
In the meantime the ship had sailed away. The "Wanderer" had lain to
until the first gray dawn of the morning. A few of the men had been
saved, including two of the sailors in the boat Steve had set out in.
All the others in that craft had been lost, as were the greater part of
the crew of the lost steamer. The men rescued from the life-boat were of
the opinion that Steve Rush had gone down with the others.
Bob Jarvis said not a word. His face was pale and drawn. He went about
his duties methodically, speaking to no one, but listening to every word
that was said about the tragedy.
After cutting wide circles for a full two hours the "Wanderer" was put
about on her interrupted course.
"South south-west one half," announced the skipper in a low tone.
The words meant to all who heard them, that he had abandoned the
search--that the missing men had been given up for lost. Their names
would be added to the list of fifty thousand souls who have lost their
lives on the Great Lakes during the last fifty years.
Captain Simms' face was grave. He had taken a great liking to Steve
Rush. He had lost, as he thought, three men, the first loss of life on a
ship commanded by him since he had been in the service of the company as
a sailing master.
"Mr. Major, you will report the accident and the loss of the men as soon
as we reach the St. Clair River," he said.
"Aye, aye, sir."
Captain Simms left the pilot-house, from which point of vantage he had
been sweeping the waters of the lake with his glasses, and went down to
his own cabin to turn in for a few hours' sleep.
* * * * *
In the meantime the object of the thoughts of nearly every man on board,
Steve Rush, was climbing to the top of the rocks that lined the coast.
Reaching there he sought the highest point attainable and looked about
him.
"I am on an island!" he exclaimed. "From the looks of things I am the
only person here. Well, this _is_ cheerful, but it is much better than
being out yonder," he added with a gesture toward the rippling waters of
Lake Huron.
Rush decided to investigate his island the next thing he did. So he
climbed down to the beach again and began following the coast line. As
he went on he found traces indicating that some one had been there.
There were chicken bones and the charred embers of a recent fire in one
spot. Steve came to the conclusion that fishermen had been on the island
not long since. If this were so there were hopes that they or some of
their kind would visit the place again. Steve walked the greater part of
the day. On one side of the island he saw a large bay. Across a point of
what he judged to be the mainland, he could see another bay and beyond
that a cloud in the sky that looked like smoke.
"There must be a large town or a city over yonder, but I don't know what
it is. I do not even know whether I am in the United States or Canada."
All day long the lad tramped. When night came he was hungry, stiff and
weak. Had it not been for his splendid constitution and great endurance
he would have given up long before that.
Just before dark he caught sight of a small sailboat slipping easily
along, headed, he thought, for the larger bay on beyond the narrow
point of land.
Steve hailed the craft. One man in the stern of the boat stood up and
gazed shoreward through a glass. Rush swung his arms and shouted that he
wanted to be taken off the island. The man in the stern calmly closed
his glasses and sat down, while the boat held steadily to her course.
Steve sat down, too. He was not so much discouraged as he was angry and
disgusted.
"Why couldn't he have sailed somewhere so I wouldn't have seen him,
instead of drifting by so tantalizingly near me?" he cried.
There being no answer to the question, Rush began looking about for a
place to sleep. The best he could do was a spot just under a ledge of
rock. The boy went down to the beach and brought back his life raft, the
piece of a deck house door on which he had floated ashore. This he
carried up to his bedroom under the ledge and stood it against the
rocks.
"That will do very well, in the absence of something better," he decided
grinning as broadly as the drawn muscles of his face would permit him to
do.
Then Steve crawled under this rude shelter, drawing his coat as closely
about him as possible and went sound asleep.
Steve was exhausted bodily and mentally, and it was not to be wondered
at considering what he had gone through in the last twelve hours.
Besides this he had had nothing to eat since supper on the previous day.
The following morning Rush did not awaken until the sunlight warmed his
bedroom. He crawled out, rubbed his eyes and looked about him.
"Well, if it isn't morning! But maybe it's the next morning; maybe I
slept a day and a night."
He had now lost all track of time. Steve sat down to think matters over
calmly. His position was a serious one and he understood that full well.
"If I remain here another day I shall be unable to get away," he mused.
"Then I shall in all probability starve to death. That won't do. I don't
propose to give up as long as I have any strength left in me, and I
guess I have a little, even after what I have passed through."
Rush sat studying the narrow stretch of water separating him from the
slender neck of land that he had observed the day before.
"It can't be more than three miles across there. If I had had a good
meal this morning I believe I could swim across to the other shore. That
looks to me like the mainland. There is surely something on beyond
there several miles away. I wonder if I dare try to swim it?"
A little reflection convinced the lad that such an attempt could end but
one way--he would drown before he reached the neck of land.
His eyes roved about, after a while resting reflectively on the piece of
deck-house door that had served his purpose so well after the sinking of
the steamer. A look of new-found intelligence gradually grew in his
eyes.
"The very thing! Hurrah!" he cried, springing up and dancing about,
forgetful for the moment, that he needed all the strength he had left.
"I swam on the door all night. Surely I can stand a few hours more on it
in the bright sunlight. Why didn't I think of it before?"
Rush lost no time in acting upon the suggestion that had come to him. He
grabbed up the cabin door and began staggering down the rocks with it.
The door was heavy and he was weak. Once he stumbled and fell. The door
went clattering down over the rocks, Steve bringing up in a heap some
distance above it.
"There, I'll bet it's broken. If it is I'm done for."
But the door was not broken. It was tough enough to stand the hard usage
to which it had been subjected. Steve was after it with a shout as soon
as he saw that it had not been split.
After that he proceeded more carefully; within a few minutes he reached
the beach with his burden. There the lad paused to think over the best
way to go about his own rescue. He took off his coat slowly, folded and
placed it on the door, then removing his suspenders he tied the coat
fast to his raft.
"There, I think that's all I had better take off or I shall get chilled
again."
After a final, sweeping glance at the sea, the lad shoved the raft, or
rather one end of it, into the water and sat down on the beach to rest
and gather courage for the great undertaking before him.
"It beats all what a man will do for the sake of a meal," he grinned. "I
might stay on this island all summer, and have a pretty good time, were
it possible for me to get along without food. But, no; I've got to eat
or I'll die. Well, here goes."
He shoved the door out into the water, pushing it along ahead of him
until the water was up to his shoulders. Rush then slid his body up on
the raft and began paddling with his hands and kicking his feet, pushing
himself along, heading around a curve of the island, for the extreme
narrow point of land jutting out into the lake.