THE RESCUE
With soft clams for bait, Paul Drew and Tim Muldoon made up the fishing
party next day, while Dick, Henry and Widdy, aided by the two Cubans,
put the finishing touches on the raft. Beeby went off with his camera,
which he had brought to the island. He said he wanted to get some last
views of the place where they had been marooned.
The fishing, which was done off some rocks that jutted out from shore,
was good, and soon the two youths had a fine supply. The old sailor
cleaned them, and then, laid on a network of sticks, over a slow fire,
the fish were smoked, to preserve them for use as food when the voyage
of the raft should have been started.
The tins and cask were filled with water, and fastened to the raised
platform in the centre of the craft. What little food remained was
carefully stored aboard, together with as many soft clams as could be
gathered.
"We can catch some fish as we sail along," remarked Frank Bender, "but
we'll have to eat them raw."
"Raw? Not a bit of it!" cried Dick. "I've just thought of something. We
can make a stone fireplace aboard the raft, and take along some wood.
Then, when it doesn't rain--and it's not likely to for a while--we can
cook. I never thought of that before, but I've often seen fires built on
big lumber rafts, and ours is large enough. We won't have to eat our
fish raw, if we're lucky enough to catch any. And another thing, I'm
going to rig up some sort of a sail. We can do it with pieces of the
bagging. Then we can get some motion beside that of drifting. Oh, before
we get through with this we'll have a regular ocean steamer," and he
laughed gaily.
He was soon constructing the fireplace on the raft, with a bed of dirt
beneath the stones to avoid danger from fire. Henry Darby helped, and
Frank Bender gathered a supply of dry wood, which was stored in one of
the wooden boxes under the platform. Then a mast, with a boom at top and
bottom, to hold distended a square sail of bagging, was made, and
erected.
"Now, we begin to look like something," declared Dick, as he surveyed
the raft. "We'll float her at high tide to-morrow, and then we'll see
how she rides. She may not be as swift as my steam yacht, but she'll
answer, I hope."
"What are you going to christen her?" asked Henry.
"Guess we'll call her the _Albatross II_," said Dick, and that name was
selected.
It was now time for the scanty dinner, which was all that could be
served, for rations were scarce, when Beeby came panting from the woods,
and dashed down the beach toward his companions, who were grouped around
Dick.
"I got 'em!" he cried. "I got 'em!"
"Got what?" asked the young millionaire, anxiously.
"A whole lot of birds! They're like chickens, nice, and plump, and fat!
I got 'em. I sneaked up on 'em, and they didn't hear me, and I got 'em!
They ought to make fine eating!"
"Good for you!" cried Dick. "Like chickens, eh? Well, we'll wait dinner
and cook some now, and also take some cooked ones along on the raft.
You're all right, Beeby, if you are fat. Where are they, and how many
did you kill?"
"Kill? I didn't kill any!" was the surprising answer. "I meant that I
snapshotted 'em. I'll make a dandy picture! There must have been a
hundred birds! I used my last film on 'em!"
For an instant Dick looked at the fat cadet. The hope that had risen
high in all their hearts was rudely dispelled. Beeby gazed about, trying
to understand wherein he had offended, for the silence was ominous.
"Throw him down, and stuff sand in his mouth!" cried Dick, at length.
"The idea of telling us you have a whole lot of birds like chickens,
and we about to eat some scraps of corned-beef, and cold clams, and
then, when our mouths are all watering, you say you snapshotted 'em!
Snapshotted 'em! You ought to be made to eat some fricasseed clam
shells, Beeby."
"Why--why, didn't you want me to take a picture of 'em?" asked the stout
youth, blankly.
"Take a picture of 'em? Why, in the name of the sacred cat, didn't you
shoot some for dinner?" asked Dick.
"I--I didn't have the rifle. But I'll go back and see if I can pot some.
There are hundreds of 'em."
"No, we'll have grub first, and then we'll see what we can do. It sounds
good, and I guess, after all, you're entitled to a vote of thanks,
Innis, for discovering them."
Dick and Beeby went hunting that afternoon, and the young millionaire,
who was a good shot with the rifle, managed to get a number of the plump
birds. They were roasted, and furnished a good supper, while a quantity
of the cooked fowl were put aboard the raft for future use.
The next morning, bidding farewell to the desolate island, where they
had been marooned for nearly a week, the little party floated the raft
at high tide, got aboard, and, hoisting the rude sail, while Widdy
steered with a sweep, which he had improvised from a sapling, and a
board from a box, they set off--for where they did not know.
There was a light wind, and the day was fair, and Widdy, who had all
the instinct of an old salt, headed the raft, as well as he could,
toward Cuba. They did not hope to reach it, or, rather, they hoped they
would be picked up before having to sail so far.
Of their voyage on the raft they talked for many years afterward, for it
was a novel experience. At first, it was not so bad, for the sea was
calm, and they even built a fire and cooked some fish which they caught.
Senor Valdez volunteered to serve in the "galley," as Dick called it,
the Cuban gentleman proving an expert chef, even with such rude
facilities at his command. He and his son were jolly good companions, as
well, for, now that they had each other, no hardships seemed too much
for them.
The raft, naturally, made slow progress, but to the boys anything was
better than remaining on the lonely island, waiting for a vessel to take
them off.
For three days they sailed on, uneventfully. They had enough to eat to
keep them from feeling hungry, though there was no great variety, and
they had water to drink, though it was flat and warm. They even managed
to get some sleep on piles of seaweed which had been put on the raft.
But the sea, as if tired of being so calm, kicked up a fuss on the
fourth day out, and waves began to come aboard. The fire was put out,
and some of the tins of water washed overboard. This was a severe loss,
for their scant supply was getting lower each hour. They were wet and
miserable, and when it came on to rain, the only consolation in the
storm was that they caught a little fresh water.
The next day proved hot and muggy, when the body seemed to want as much
water as a sponge. Dick, backed up by Widdy, would let only a little of
the fresh fluid be used. The boys were advised to keep their bodies wet,
as this helped to slake their thirst. There was little difficulty in
this, as the spray and waves kept every one aboard the raft more or less
soaked.
They had to eat cold victuals, and on the fifth day, even these were
limited in quantity, for the food was giving out.
It was a forlorn and weary raft of adventurers that sailed slowly over
the sea, with every one aboard straining his eyes for a sight of a ship
that would rescue them.
"It certainly is tough," murmured Beeby, when he was allowed but a
mouthful of water. "Terribly tough! I'm awful dry!"
"Think of something else!" counseled Dick. "We may be picked up
to-morrow."
They were not, though, and with their supply of food down almost to
nothing, and only a little water left, their situation was desperate.
Poor Grit whined and looked up into Dick's face, as if trying to
understand why he did not have all the meat and water he wanted. The
young millionaire (and what a mockery his wealth seemed to him then)
shared his rations with the dogs, but would not allow the others to
deprive themselves of any of theirs. Dick only drew his belt tighter,
and gazed off into space, hoping against hope that he would see a ship.
He wet his parched lips, and prayed silently--not so much for himself,
as for the others, while Grit whined at his feet, and licked his hand.
The little puppy, not being able to stand the strain, died, and, rather
sorrowfully, they cast him overboard.
It was on the ninth day out--a hot, broiling day--when the sun seemed
fairly to sizzle through the bagging awning, and force out every drop of
moisture from one's body. There was not an ounce of water left, and
death stared them in the face. They lay about the raft limply, almost
too weak to speak.
It was Widdy who first saw the approaching, ship. At first he feared his
eyes were deceiving him, and he rubbed them, and stared again and again,
to make sure, before he ventured to cry out:
"Sail ho!"
They all leaped to their feet with new strength at his words, and gazed
where he pointed. At first it was but a speck, but they shouted and
waved any rag or piece of clothing they could catch up. Of course, their
feeble voices did not carry, but they must have been seen, for,
presently, when the ship was made out to be a steamer, they saw the
course changed, and she bore down upon them.
"We're saved, thank God!" gasped Dick, and there were tears in his eyes,
while Grit, as if catching the spirit of hope, leaped about, and barked
joyously.
An hour later they were aboard the steamer _Trascaron_, and were being
fed cautiously on soup and weak tea, while their raft was abandoned, and
with thankful hearts they learned that they were aboard a vessel bound
for Santiago.
"And when we get there I'm going to hire another yacht, and search for
mine!" declared Dick, with something of a return of his former energy.