A COWARD'S BLOW.
Thanks to the boys' defense of the stairway, and the cool-headed
commander's prompt action in quelling the onrush of the stokers, the
boys found that there was plenty of room in the two boats that still
remained to be lowered. Haste, however, was a matter of necessity, as
the flames by this time had devoured the bulkheads and were sweeping
forward, driven by the high wind.
The captain of the _Rhode Island_ had recovered his wits, and the
loading of the boats went on rapidly. In its company were enrolled the
cowardly stokers, at whom the boys could not gaze without a feeling of
disgust.
"Are not you boys going in that boat?" said a voice at their elbow, as
the davits were swung out and the remainder of the crew prepared to
lower it.
"No, sir; as navy men," said Ned, proudly dwelling on the "men," "we
prefer to wait till the last boat to leave the ship."
"That's right," agreed the commander approvingly.
He hastened off and assumed the control of the few maneuvres to be
carried out before the _Rhode Island_ was ready to be abandoned. The
captain of the _Rhode Island_ had recognized Captain Dunham, and was
anxiously trying to aid him; but the naval commander treated the other
with some contempt, doubtless inspired by the latter's abject failure
to quell the panic in its inception or handle it when it broke.
The boys now had time to gaze about them.
The glare of the burning ship lit up the surrounding water with a weird
radiance, in which they could see the loaded boats, already lowered,
tossing helplessly, the crowds on each being so great that the sailors
could not use their oars.
"Say, Ned, suppose the boiler busts!" suddenly exclaimed the cheerful
Herc, as the last boat was swung out.
"No use thinking of such possibilities," rejoined Ned decisively.
"Well, I can't help it," protested Herc indignantly. "I remember when
that thresher blew up to grandpa's. I guess this would be something
like that, eh, Ned?"
"Only more so," was the dry reply.
Suddenly the notification that all was ready for the lowering of the
last boat rang out.
As this one was to be the final lifeboat to leave the ship, it was put
overside before any one boarded it. The officers of the _Rhode Island_,
the six members of the crew remaining, the boys and Commander Dunham
getting into it by sliding down the falls.
At last they were all on board, and the order was given to shove off.
No time was lost in doing this, as the _Rhode Island_ was by this time
a mass of flames in her forepart, and it seemed impossible that she
could float much longer.
"Do you anticipate being picked up shortly, captain?" asked the boys'
friend of the commander of the _Rhode Island_.
"Why, I don't expect that we'll have to drift about very long," was the
reply. "You see, the Sound is well traveled, and some ship must have
seen the flare of the fire."
It was bitterly cold in the storm-swept waters of the Sound, but the
boys checked any tendency they might have felt to complain by thinking
of the plight of the women and children in the other boats.
It is doubtful as the newspapers at the time pointed out, that there
would have been no fatalities attendant on the wreck of the _Rhode
Island_, if but a little less than half an hour after they had cast
adrift from the ill-fated steamer, the _Kentucky_, of the Joy Line, had
not hove in sight. By this time the _Rhode Island_ had burned to the
water's edge, and sank with a noisy roar.
The _Kentucky_ bore down with all speed on the drifting boatloads
of half-frozen men and women, and within an hour every one of the
passengers had been picked up and given warm food and drink and
attention.
As the _Kentucky_, having performed her rescue work, pursued her way
to New York, the boys mingled with the excited crowd of the saved that
thronged her lighted saloon.
While they walked about, overhearing interesting scraps of conversation
relating to the rescues of several of the passengers, they were
startled by a sudden cry in a woman's voice:
"There he is! There he is, the coward!"
There was a rush to the part of the saloon from whence the cry had
proceeded. Every one was naturally anxious to ascertain what could
have caused it. The boys were among the curious persons who joined the
throng.
They saw a slight, pale-faced woman pointing indignantly to a tall
youth who was slinking away through the crowd, trying evidently to
conceal himself from the woman's scorn.
"What is the matter, madam?" somebody asked the excited woman.
"Why, I was in the first rush for the stairway," explained the woman,
"before those brave young men there----" It was the boys' turn to
try to slink away. "Before those brave young men there kept back the
cowardly fellows who were trying to trample past us. That man yonder,
who has just slunk away, dealt me this blow in the face," she pointed
to a livid weal on her cheek, "and knocked me down."
A roar of indignation went up as she related the craven conduct of
the youth the boys had observed slink off. Some of the more excitable
passengers shouted that they wanted to organize a party to find him and
deal him out summary punishment. Cooler counsel prevailed, however,
and the rest of the night was passed in as comfortable a manner as was
possible on the overcrowded ship.
When the _Kentucky_ arrived at her dock on the East River, below the
Brooklyn Bridge, she was met by big crowds, among whom were many
reporters, the wireless stations along the Sound having been notified
by the _Kentucky_ of the disaster that had overtaken the _Rhode Island_.
The boys, laughingly turning aside the assiduous young men of the
press, were making their way ashore, when Herc suddenly caught hold of
Ned's arm.
"Look there!" he exclaimed.
Ned looked, and saw Hank Harkins standing in the midst of a throng of
reporters, to whom he was evidently giving a "big story."
"I took the woman in my arms," the boys heard him say, as they paused,
"and made my way to the upper deck with her."
"You saved her?" asked a young reporter, holding a long pencil poised
above a very large new notebook.
"Yes, I saved her, and then----" Hank was continuing, when his jaw
suddenly dropped, and he shook as if he was about to have a fit.
Then, without another word to the amazed reporters, he shouldered
his way through their ranks and dashed off down the gangplank in the
direction of the land.
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Herc. "I'll remember Hank's look when he met our
eyes as long as I live. He looked like a dying duck in a thunderstorm!"
"I guess we headed off his thrilling narrative, all right," commented
Ned, echoing Herc's merriment.
"And for a good reason, too," went on Herc. "I recognized Hank as he
slunk away from that woman last night. He was the coward who struck her
and disgraced his uniform."
"I'm glad his overcoat covered it," rejoined Ned.
At this juncture one of the reporters, who had noticed that both the
lads wore Uncle Sam's uniforms, hurried up to them.
"Can you tell us what was the matter with that fellow?" he demanded.
"He was just in the middle of giving us a good story, when he suddenly
hurried off as if he had been shot. Is he a reliable chap, do you know?"
"Well, I wouldn't believe _all_ he told you," grinned Herc, as the
Dreadnought Boys hurried ashore, to cross New York and join their ship.