IN THE GRIP OF THE WAVES
"SOMEBODY overboard!" said the captain sharply.
"Who?" demanded Steve, in an equally sharp tone as his relief took the
wheel from his hands.
"I don't know."
Just then the figure of a man was seen to leap from the top of the after
deck-house into the raging sea.
Bob Jarvis had been clinging to a ladder that the chief engineer was
holding up against the whistle pipe, the valve of the whistle having
worked loose. The engineer had asked Bob to help him as a favor, which
the lad was glad to do, though that was not his department. It was a
ticklish position in which to work, and at any moment a lurch of the
ship might throw the ladder over and throw the Iron Boy into the sea. He
gave no heed to the danger of his position, for he was rapidly becoming
a true sailor.
Suddenly, as though some instinct had told him to do so, Bob turned his
head and glanced over the deck to the forward deck-house. As he did so
he uttered an exclamation. Little Marie had just descended the steps
from her father's quarters, and was already on the main deck. In her
arms she carried several parcels.
"Go back!" roared Jarvis.
The words were driven back down his throat by the wind, and if the child
understood his gestures she did not heed them.
Bob groaned.
"Let me down, quick! The child is trying to get aft and she'll never
make it."
With rare presence of mind, Jarvis gave the whistle lever five quick,
short jerks, sending forth as many blasts, the signal of danger.
Instantly some one shouted a sharp warning.
By this time the lad had slid down the ladder and was making for the
edge of the deck-house to drop down to the deck. He halted all of a
sudden. Bob tried to cry out, but the words would not come. He felt a
sickening sensation sweep over him, and a sudden dizziness took
possession of him.
A white-crested wave had risen up out of the sea right alongside of the
big steel ore carrier. For a moment it hung trembling over the ship like
an avenging monster. Then suddenly it swooped down. It reminded Jarvis
of a steam clam shell scooping up ore. He was thinking calmly now, and
he was planning what he should do an instant later.
The green scoop dipped, lifted the little Marie clear of the deck, then
raised her high above the steel hatch covers.
A faint cry floated back to where the Iron Boy was standing as the
captain's daughter was carried over the opposite side of the ship and
dropped into the sea.
A great shout escaped Bob Jarvis. Lifting himself to his toes he took a
long curving dive from the deck-house. He cleared the ship's rail with
plenty of room to spare, entering the water head first just at the base
of a huge swell.
In an almost incredibly short time his hatless head bobbed up on the
other side of the swell, leaving him struggling alone on the rough
waters. The ship had slipped quickly by. But already her propeller was
beating the water with all the force of the steam power behind it,
turned on full, in an effort to start the ship going astern.
Steve had rushed out on deck the instant he was relieved. Unmindful of
the seas that were again breaking over the deck as the ship shifted her
position, he dashed aft, drenched to the skin and battered this way and
that by the angry combers as they roared curling aboard.
A sailor ran panting up the stairs to the pilot-house.
"It's the little girl!" cried the sailor. "Your daughter's overboard
and Jarvis has gone after her. They'll both be drowned!"
"Port your helm a little," said the skipper in a calm, steady voice, as
he turned to the wheelman. "Steady!"
Springing to the telephone he called up the after deck-house.
"Have boat Number 6 manned and swung out ready for launching. Have men
stand by with life-lines and rings ready to cast if we come up with
them. You stand by and watch out astern."
The commands were delivered in quick, sharp accents, but there was no
trace of excitement either in the captain's tone or on his features. He
was every inch the commander, cool, calm, resourceful. Years of
commanding had taught him that to be a master of others one must first
be the master of himself and of his own emotions.
"Where are they? Do you see them?" shouted Rush, as he dashed to the
after rail of the ship where a number of men were standing with pale,
frightened faces.
A hand pointed astern where, a second or so later, Steve caught sight of
the bobbing head of his companion.
"Has he got the child?" Rush cried.
"Yes. Leastwise, he had a minute ago. It was a lucky chance. You see, he
jumped just in time and the girl was fairly swept into his arms."
"It was not chance," retorted Steve. "Bob knew what he was doing."
Steve was pacing up and down the after deck, scarcely able to restrain
himself from leaping into the sea and going to his companion's
assistance. He knew, however, that the chances were that he would never
be able to reach the struggling figure off there. At any rate the ship,
which was now beating its way astern at a very fair rate of speed, would
get to the spot before he could possibly hope to do so, even if he were
able to make it at all.
Far up above the decks in the pilot-house with glasses to his eyes,
stood the skipper, calm, stern, alert, now and then giving a brief
command to the man at the wheel in a voice in which there was still no
hint of nervousness or excitement.
The first mate gazed at his commander in wonder. There were Iron Boys in
that ship's company and there was a master who was also iron.
"I think you had better go aft, Mr. Major," directed the skipper. "Take
charge back there. We are going to have difficulty in getting them
aboard, even if they keep up until we get to them. The boy is making a
great fight of it."
"Aye, aye, sir. Has he the girl still?"
"Yes. He is trying to keep her head above water until we get to him, but
I'm afraid she'll drown before we can help them."
The first mate hurried from the pilot-house, starting aft at a run. He
began shouting out his orders before he reached the stern. He found
Steve Rush with coat and shoes off, poised on the rail of the plunging
stern, the water dashing over him as he clung with one hand to a
stanchion.
"You are not going to try to go over, Rush?" he shouted.
"There's no need now," answered the boy, not for an instant taking his
eyes from the two figures off there in the water.
The ship was drawing near and it was observable that Jarvis was not
battling as strongly as he had before. They knew that he was becoming
exhausted from his desperate struggle with the great seas that were
sweeping him.
"Man boat Number 6 and put it over!" commanded the mate.
"No use to do that," called Rush. "It will not live. Better put over the
lines at the proper time."
"No; it is the captain's orders to launch Number 6 boat. I want two
men."
Nearly every man there stepped forward. They glanced at Rush. He was
still on the rail. He had made no effort to volunteer for the dangerous
service. They wondered at it, but they knew the boy's courage too well
to think for a moment that he had been deterred from offering to go out
in the life-boat through fear. There were those present who would have
resented such an imputation.
Steve cast a disapproving glance at the mate who was then superintending
the launching of the craft. The men who were to go out in it already had
taken their places in the boat, that had been provided with ropes, life
rings and life preservers.
At command the boat was swung out, the men standing up and steadying
their craft by pressing their oars against the sides of the ship itself.
"Careful that you do not fall out!" warned Mr. Major. "I will give the
command to let go. When I do so drop to your seats and out oars."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Shut off!" shouted Rush. "You'll run them down!"
The mate made a signal to the captain, but the latter had timed the
progress of his vessel too well to need the signal. Already the
propeller had ceased revolving and the captain was giving his directions
to the wheelman so as to throw the stern to one side of the struggling
boy.
Captain Simms' plan was to drift down on Jarvis and the child, with the
sea. Perhaps it was not the best thing to do, but it was the quickest
and seconds were golden at that critical moment.
"Let go!" roared the mate.
The life-boat struck the water with a splash. Instantly it was picked up
on the crest of a giant roller, lifted high in the air, and hurled
against the side of the ship with terrific force.
With a sickening crash the life-boat was crushed into splinters,
precipitating the crew into the rough sea.
Rush leaped from the rail to the deck. He had been ready to do so when
he saw what the mate proposed to do. He foresaw the end of the
life-boat, and perhaps of the men who were manning her, even before they
made a start to obey the orders of the mate.
Grasping a life ring to which a long line had been attached, Steve
hurled it over the side of the ship.
"Grab the line!" he shouted to one of the men next to him. "Watch out
and haul in when you get your man hooked."
Another life ring dropped over the side of the ship and the line to this
Steve passed to another man. Both struggling sailors in the water
fastened to the life rings that had been dropped within easy reach of
them, thanks to the careful aim of the Iron Boy.
Steve saw that the two were reasonably safe; then, grabbing up another
ring, he sprang to the rail on the port side.
Bob Jarvis and the girl were drifting in, buffeted this way and that by
one huge wave after another. The girl's head was drooping over Bob's
left shoulder.
"Can you make it?" bellowed Rush.
"I don't know." Bob's voice sounded far away.
Steve was watching him with keen, steady eyes. The lad felt sure that
they never would get aboard without at least serious injury.
"Kick the ship ahead a couple of turns!" shouted Rush in a tone of
command.
The word was transmitted to the captain in the pilot-house by gestures.
The captain gave the signal, but not quite quickly enough to accomplish
what Rush had hoped for. He wanted the ship advanced a few feet so that
Jarvis and his burden would drift past the stern where they could be
pulled up without the danger of being crushed against the side of the
ship.
Before the propeller had made one complete revolution the stern of the
"Richmond" was hit by a giant wave and then by another. The vessel it
seemed was literally lifted from the water and thrown to one side. That
was the side where Bob Jarvis was struggling to save himself and the
captain's daughter.
Illustration: Another Figure Dived from the Rail.
Bob saw what was going to happen. The plucky lad held the child off at
arm's length, as far away from the oncoming ship as possible, while with
the other hand he sought to break the force of the blow.
The side of the ship hit Jarvis a tremendous blow. The lad's arm doubled
under him and his head drooped forward on the water.
"He's killed!" cried the watchers.
Splash!
Another figure had dived from the rail. It was Steve. His dive took him
right under Bob and his burden. Rush came up the other side and struck
out for the couple with long, powerful strokes.