THE CRASH
With moisture fairly dripping from their garments, hanging in beads
from their eyebrows, and seeming to penetrate to their innermost being,
as water does a sponge, Ned, Bob and Jerry stood at the rail of the
transport moodily discussing the situation.
Yes, they were moody. It was, indeed, enough to make any one moody,
though perhaps they should have been thankful that their lives were
spared and that they were able to be up on deck, and not obliged to lie
stretched on a cot in the sick bay. But the boys thought they had just
cause for grievance, and perhaps they had.
Certainly to be disabled far out at sea was bad enough, without having
to be fog-bound, to run the risk of crashing into some other vessel,
having some big steamer, or perhaps a war craft, crash into them, or
bear down on an immense iceberg which might be the cause of the very
fog that would hasten their destruction.
And so, gloomily and moodily, the three Cresville lads leaned against
the rail, straining their eyes to pierce the misty whiteness that
enveloped them so closely. Every now and then the hoarse bellow of
the steamer’s whistle would sound out its warning and call--for the
blasts were so sounded as to form the international call for help. And,
punctuating the whistle blasts, was the clang of the fog bell, rung
insistently by sailors detailed for this important task.
Meanwhile all that could be done was to watch and wait--wait for the
inevitable. Would the fog lift before some fatal crash? or would they
be further endangered by its opaqueness? No one could answer.
Lookouts were stationed at every vantage point. Men were sent up to
the crow’s nests on the masts, but from there they reported that they
could see no more than could be observed from the deck. Their eyes were
useless beyond a distance of fifty feet.
“This is fierce!” exclaimed Ned, and he closed his eyes for a moment,
for they actually ached from the strain he was putting on them by
trying to see the unseeable.
“You said something!” commented Bob.
“Oh, well, it might be worse,” remarked Jerry.
“How could it be?” half-fiercely demanded Ned.
“We might not be afloat in a sound ship, for one thing,” the tall lad
answered. “Of course we can’t move under our own power, but we’re in no
danger of sinking.”
“No--not yet,” muttered Bob significantly. “But there’s no telling how
long we may be this way. Look at those sails! Might as well hang up a
couple of pocket handkerchiefs!” and he motioned to the great expanses
of canvas between the wireless masts.
They did, indeed, hang as limp as clothes on a line. Not a whiff of
wind swayed them, and the moisture of the fog, condensing on their
white surfaces, dripped down to the deck.
“Well, we can’t do anything to remedy it,” said Jerry, after a pause.
“Might as well grin and bear it.”
“What do you say to looking up Professor Snodgrass?” asked Bob. “That
is, I don’t mean go directly to him, for he might have, as Jerry says,
some special reason for not wanting to be disturbed. But if he’s here
on board--and we’re sure, now, that he is--we could ask of some of the
officers and, perhaps, let him know we’re here.”
“Yes, let’s do that!” added Ned. “We started to, but got off the track.”
Jerry considered the matter a moment. Then he said:
“I guess we might as well. We’ll want to know where he is, anyhow, in
case of accident, so we can look after him. Let’s go!”
On board the transport the same sort of military rules and regulations
that existed in camp or on the battlefield did not hold good. There was
more freedom and ease in going about and in making inquiries, and the
Motor Boys proceeded to take advantage of this.
Their first inquiries, however, of some of the ship’s officers resulted
in disappointment. No one seemed to know Professor Snodgrass. They
admitted that there were several civilians on board the transport, but
were not aware of their names.
Some said they had seen a man resembling the description given of
Professor Snodgrass, but when pressed for details they described the
individual the boys had dubbed “_le cochon_,” and the Motor Boys did
not want to meet him again.
They even made their way to the passage where the marines had been on
sentry duty in front of the mysterious cabin, and, somewhat to their
surprise, found the men on guard. They were not the same men they had
seen at first, but two burly soldiers who gruffly bade the boys:
“Move on!”
“This certainly is queer,” declared Bob, when they were out of earshot
of the two marines. “One time they have a guard there, and another time
they don’t.”
“I wonder why,” voiced Ned.
“Can’t you guess?” asked Jerry.
“No. Tell us!” urged his chums.
“Well, I should think it would occur to you that the marines are not
guarding the cabin--just some one in it. And if he isn’t there----”
“Oh, I see!” exclaimed Bob.
“You mean pepper-pot was out of the cabin the other time we were here
and we saw Professor Snodgrass inside?” asked Ned.
“About that,” answered Jerry, smiling.
“Well, that’s a white horse of another color,” remarked Ned. “Professor
Snodgrass must have been in pepper-pot’s cabin when our volatile
acquaintance, _le cochon_, was out of it. Now that the little man who
looks like our friend is there again, the guards are once more on duty.
How’s that, Jerry?”
“That’s about the way I size it up.”
“Well, now that we’ve got thus far let’s keep on,” suggested Bob.
“Let’s find where the professor is.”
“Why not ask the guards?” suggested Ned.
“We can try,” agreed Chunky. “But they didn’t seem very friendly.”
Nor were they when the friends essayed a few questions. The chief one
being as to whether or not the marines knew where Professor Snodgrass
could be found.
“Go chase yourself,” was all the reply the boys received.
“Well, we’re on our own now, so let’s make a hunt,” suggested Jerry.
“He’s somewhere on this ship, and a man with all the peculiarities of
Professor Snodgrass can’t be hidden long.”
“That’s true,” assented his chums.
And the search began. How long the three might have been searching,
unaided as they were by any information given in response to their many
questions, is doubtful. Probably if they had been able to find the
purser he would have solved the riddle for them at once.
But that official was not to be found. Doubtless, with the added
responsibilities that had come with the accident to the ship he was in
great demand and was not long in any one place.
At any rate Ned, Bob and Jerry could not find him, and no one in his
department would give them the information they sought. The transport
being so large and so crowded, the professor was almost as well hidden
as though he were in some large city and no one had his address.
As it was, chance came to the aid of the three boys. They were
wandering about, now and then going up on deck to see if the fog had
lifted, coming down again, disappointed because it had not, when, as
they were watching a group of sailors putting fresh water in some of
the boats that were always kept in readiness for instant use, they
heard a well-remembered voice saying:
“Just a moment, now! Just a moment, I beg of you. Don’t stir hand or
foot!”
“And why shouldn’t I stir hand or foot?” asked a truculent voice. “Do
you think I can stand here all day while you’re creepin’ up on me like
a scalping Indian?”
“One moment! Only a second more, I beg of you!” went on the first
voice. “There is on your left leg one of the finest specimens of
sea-leech I have ever seen, and I want him!”
“A leech! You’re welcome to him!” cried the other voice, and through
the fog the three boys saw looming a strange sight.
A sailor was swabbing part of the deck, and he stood with his mop half
raised from the pail while stealthily approaching him was the figure of
a little bald-headed man, wearing across his nose powerful spectacles.
And it needed but a moment’s glance at the little man to show that he
was none other than Professor Snodgrass. Bob impulsively murmured his
name.
The little scientist, edging his way along the fog-wreathed deck toward
the poised sailor, gave one glance and noticed the three chums.
“Oh, boys! Glad to see you!” he exclaimed, as though they had just left
him the day before. “Please don’t move. I am about to make a most
important capture. One moment, my friend. Don’t stir hand or foot. In a
moment----”
The professor’s words were interrupted by a chorus of terrific shouts.
There was a confusion of voices, mingling with the frantic clanging of
a bell and the hoarse tooting of the big whistle.
Ned, Bob and Jerry caught a glimpse of something big and black looming
up on the port side out of the fog.
A moment later there was a terrific crash, and it seemed as if the
transport would be heeled over and capsized. The fear-anticipated
collision had happened!