WRECKED
Confusion on board a ship in a storm may be real confusion and riot, or
it may only seem so to those not used to the sea. Often what is a
hopelessly tangled mass of sails, ropes, spars and gears to the
landsman, is as clear to a sailor as a skein of yarn is to an
experienced knitter, who can ply her needles in the dark.
It was so on the _Mary Ellen_ when the storm, that had been so long
threatening, and half-performing, broke in all its fury.
There was a tangle of ropes, a banging and slamming of canvas, which,
stretched taut and to its utmost, was as stiff as a board. There was a
rattling of blocks and the creaking of the boom-crotches against the
masts. The squeak of the gaffs higher up added to the din.
The shouting of Captain Brisco, and the answering calls of his men did
not lessen the confusion.
"Lower away! Lower away!" the commander cried, ordering even the already
doubly-reefed sails gotten down, so the powerful wind would have less
resistance. Even with the small area of canvas shown, the craft was
being heeled over until the scuppers--or the holes by which water runs
off the deck--dipped under the waves, and there was plenty of sea
aboard.
"Set that storm jib!" came the next order, when the main sails had been
furled, and that was no easy task with the sharp pitching and tossing of
the schooner. Not a very seamanlike job was made of it, but there was no
time for the finer touches. The sails were just clewed up to prevent
them from blowing away, until more time could be devoted to them.
The storm jib, which is the sail furthest front on a vessel, unless it
be a flying jib, was set to give her enough way so she would respond to
the helm, for it was necessary to keep the craft before the wind, and
head on to the seas--that is, the big waves must be cut and broken by
the sharp prow, or bow, for had they come at the schooner sideways, she
would have been swamped instantly.
Even the small area of the storm jib was hardly necessary. The _Mary
Ellen_, in that blow, would have scudded along fairly well "under bare
poles," that is with no sails set at all. Even Captain Brisco had his
doubts about the storm jib resisting. It might pull away from the
holding ropes at any moment. But its loss would do no harm, for it would
only be blown out to sea, and there were enough spare sails.
So, as I have said, order came out of confusion, but even the order was
somewhat confused, at least to the members of the moving picture
company. They had been ordered below, and had managed, somehow, to get
there, though more than one received bumps and bruises on the pitching,
tossing companionway.
"Oh, what an awful storm!" complained Miss Dixon, when they were huddled
in the cabin.
"Isn't it awful--terrible!" agreed her companion. "I am frightened to
death. We may sink at any minute."
"Oh, not so much danger of that in a wooden ship," said Paul
consolingly. He wished the two former vaudeville actresses would try to
have a little courage.
"I am so frightened," murmured Miss Pennington. "I wish Captain Brisco
would come down here."
"What for?" asked Alice, hardly able to keep the contempt out of her
voice.
"So he could tell us if we are in any danger, and what we ought to do,"
was the selfish answer. "He _must_ save us!"
"He's trying to save the ship!" said Alice, "and you two ought to be
ashamed of yourselves at a time like this. Think of poor Russ and Mr.
Sneed out in that motorboat all alone!"
"Oh, but they--they're men," faltered Miss Dixon.
"Then why don't you try to be women!" snapped Alice.
"Hush, my dear," said her sister gently.
"I can't!" was the answer. "When I think of poor Russ----"
"I'm going to put on a life preserver," exclaimed Miss Pennington,
favoring Alice with a frosty stare.
"Perhaps that would be a good plan for us, my dears," said Mr. DeVere to
his daughters. "It can do no harm, at all events."
"No," admitted Alice. "But we appear to be all right--for the time
being, at least."
It seemed quieter up on deck now, for the sailors had ceased rushing
about adjusting the canvas, though there was still plenty of noise.
There was the rattle and bang of blocks, the whipping about of ends of
ropes, the slap, now and then, of the storm jib, as it was whipped back
and forth. Now and then a heavy sea would fall on deck with a crash.
At such times the _Mary Ellen_, stout as she was, would tremble from
stem to stern, and those in the cabin would shiver and look at one
another apprehensively.
"Come on, Laura," called Miss Pennington to her companion. "Let's take
all the precautions we can. We'll put on life preservers. But oh, I
daren't think of being in the water with all those sharks."
"Don't talk that way!" said Paul in a sharp whisper, as he saw Ruth
shrink back at the word "shark."
Miss Pennington did not deign to answer, but she and her friend were
soon struggling with the straps of a life preserver. At this moment
Captain Brisco came down into the cabin.
"What does this mean?" he asked, and his voice was stern.
"We--we are getting ready for an--an emergency," faltered Miss
Pennington.
"Well, there won't be any emergency--at least not for a while," the
commander said grimly "We are doing very well. If you want to be
uncomfortable do so, and put on those cork jackets. But there is no need
of it. I'll give you plenty of warning if the ship is likely to founder,
and we'll lower the boats."
"Is there any real danger, Captain?" asked Mr. DeVere.
"Well, of course there always is, in a storm at sea. But we are in no
more danger than hundreds of others. This is a wooden ship, and it will
be a long time sinking, even if it gets to that point, which is far off.
We haven't leaked a drop yet, and we're running before the storm nicely.
You need have no fears."
"That's what I thought!" exclaimed Alice, with a look at the two former
stage actresses.
"Humph!" sniffed Miss Dixon. "Any one would think you were a sailor."
"She's a good deal better 'n some," said Jack Jepson coming into the
cabin then to report something to Captain Brisco.
"Then you would not advise us to put on life preservers?" asked Mr.
DeVere.
"Not now, at least," the captain replied. "I have done everything
possible, and the only thing now is to run before the storm. We are in
good shape. The _Mary Ellen_ is a better craft than I gave her credit
for being. The only thing to do is to wait, and hope for the best."
"Have you plenty of lifeboats?" the old actor wanted to know.
"Yes, enough for all hands. They are provisioned and watered, and are
staunch craft. My men have orders to stand by in case of any real
danger, and put the small boats over. But we will stick to the ship
until the last, though that is not saying, mind you, that we will have
to desert her."
"Oh! I couldn't think of going in one of those small boats!" cried Miss
Dixon. "They are so low in the water. I should faint every time I looked
over the side."
"Well if she looked once, and fainted and stayed so, it would be a good
thing for all hands," murmured Paul Ardite.
"Oh, don't say that," Alice reproached him.
"That's how I feel about her," he answered.
"What can be done about picking up the motorboat?" asked Mr. DeVere.
They all looked anxiously toward Captain Brisco.
"I have a man on the lookout," answered the commander. "It may seem to
some of you heartless to go away and leave her."
"It was," murmured gentle Ruth. But she only whispered the words. There
were tears in her eyes.
"But I could do nothing else," resumed Captain Brisco. "As I told you, a
vessel can't remain stationary on the sea. We had to move on before the
gale. And, as I also said, the motorboat has a better chance of going
where she wants to than have we, who must depend on our sails. I have no
doubt but that the two in the _Ajax_ are safe."
But if Captain Brisco, or any of those then huddled in the cabin of the
_Mary Ellen_, could have seen Russ and Mr. Sneed just then they would
not have envied them.
With the racing of the engine, indicating to Russ that the propeller had
dropped off into the sea, he at once shut off the power. Without the
resistance of the screw the machine would soon have racked itself to
pieces.
"Well, what's to be done?" asked Mr. Sneed.
"That's the way to talk," was the response. "We've got to do something,
that's sure."
The storm which at that moment was enveloping the _Mary Ellen_ was, at
the same time, buffeting about the smaller motorboat. When she lost
headway by the stopping of her engine she no longer took the seas head,
or bow, on. She fell into the trough, and was in imminent danger of
being swamped.
"We've got to bring her up, the first thing we do," Russ decided. "What
we need is a drag anchor. That will bring her head on to the waves, and
we can ride them better until help comes."
"Will help ever come?" asked the actor, despondently.
"Of course it will. Or else we'll find the schooner, or they us!"
responded Russ.
While he was talking, he was looking about for something to use as a
drag anchor.
"That will do!" Russ decided as he saw a heavy wooden box. "I'll use
that." Quickly he tied a rope to it, and tossed the box out.
"This is better!" exclaimed Russ. "Now let's take an account of stock,
and see what else we can do. We may be here for some time."
"We can't live very long in this awful weather!" groaned, rather than
spoke, Mr. Sneed.
"Oh, don't give up so easily," said Russ.
But when the storm grew worse, and the tiny craft was buffeted about,
shipping considerable water, even stout-hearted Russ was not as hopeful
as he had been. He had stowed the camera in a safe place, and put the
films in a water-tight box well forward. Then the only thing to do was
to wait. In vain he scanned the sea through the storm for a sight of the
schooner. He could catch no glimpse of her.
Meanwhile the lookout on the _Mary Ellen_ was eagerly watching for any
signs of the _Ajax_, but he had even less chance of seeing her than Russ
and Mr. Sneed did of sighting the larger vessel.
The storm was constantly growing worse. As old Jack had said, the
schooner had actually been caught in the very vortex of it, but the
whirling motion, imparted by the meeting of two different wind
currents, had been the saving of the craft. She had been shunted to the
outer edge, as a cork, going around in a whirlpool, is sometimes tossed
to safety by the very violence of the motion.
Then she had scudded before the gale.
All that night they scudded before the storm, not knowing where they
were, and when morning came there was a wild and tumultuous waste of
waters all about them. Alice ventured up on deck, against the advice of
her father and sister.
She saw Jack Jepson and some sailors amidships. They seemed to be in
earnest consultation. Alice drew near them, intending to ask if there
were any news.
As she came near the mainmast, there was a sudden veer to the craft, a
snapping, splintering sound, and the mast, with its gear of sail, boom
and gaff crashed over the side, smashing the stout bulwarks.
"Look out, gal!" hoarsely cried Old Jack, and he snatched Alice back
only just in time, for the mast splintered down right in front of her.
With the crash and splintering of the wood, and the breaking of the side
of the schooner, there arose the cry of:
"We're wrecked! We're wrecked!"