A SIGNAL OF DISTRESS
Russ had been running the motor at moderate speed, for he did not know
just how long the supply of gasoline would last, and he did not know as
yet what might be before him and his companion in distress. But the
sight of the steamer gave him hope, and he turned on full speed.
The _Ajax_ was a powerful craft, though even a mighty steamer would not
have found it easy to make headway in that sea and in that gale. The
motor craft responded gallantly, and shot up on the crest of each wave,
sliding down the opposite side as though she were going to investigate
the uttermost depths of Father Neptune's caverns.
"Steamer! I don't see any steamer!" exclaimed Mr. Sneed, as he looked in
the direction toward which the face of Russ was turned.
"You will when we both come on top of a wave at the same time," was the
answer. "You see we lie so low in the water she can't see us, and we
can't glimpse her until we're both on a crest together. She's off to the
east there. Watch and you'll see her. Look now!"
At that moment the _Ajax_ rose on a mighty wave, which lifted her high
toward the sky, in which were now rifted clouds. Mr. Sneed glanced to
where Russ pointed, and saw the long, black hull of a steamer, from
whose stacks belched forth clouds of smoke, showing that her engines
were being driven at top speed to overcome the storm.
"There she is!" cried Russ. "Now if we can only reach her, we'll be all
right, and we can help the others."
"The others," murmured the actor.
"Yes, those on the _Mary Ellen_. She must be in trouble in this storm,
for she isn't built for this sort of thing. It's a wonder she lasted as
long as she did."
"Maybe she's at the bottom now," suggested Mr. Sneed.
"Cheerful, aren't you?" remarked Russ. "I thought you'd given that sort
of thing up."
"I meant to. I really did. I'm sorry!" the other exclaimed, contritely
enough. Really he was a different sort of Mr. Sneed from the "human
grouch" who often made matters so unpleasant for members of the Comet
Film Company. Since he and Russ had so nearly faced death, Mr. Sneed
was much braver and more cheerful.
"I think she'll keep afloat for some time," Russ went on, "as she is all
wood, you know. She may be pretty well battered, though."
If he could only have seen the hapless _Mary Ellen_ then, he would have
believed her quite battered indeed. For another rotten mast had fallen.
"Do you mean you're going to ask those on the steamer to look for the
schooner," asked Mr. Sneed.
"That's what I'm going to do, if we can get to her," Russ said. "It's
going to be nip and tuck, for she's going fast and she won't see us, as
we're so low in the water. She's not heading in our direction, either,
but I'll go after her on a long slant, and maybe I can reach her, or get
near enough to make her see us. This is a pretty fast boat."
They were speeding over the waves, now down in a hollow, and again on
the crest. Sometimes they would lose sight of the steamer altogether,
and again they would catch a fleeting glimpse of her. And, when they
did, she seemed farther off than ever.
"Oh, we'll never reach her!" said Mr. Sneed, despondently enough.
"She'll never give us any aid."
"There you go!" cried Russ. "I thought you'd given up that sort of
thing!"
"Well, I didn't mean just that," the actor said. "Perhaps we will make
her see us after all."
"That's better!" exclaimed Russ. "We'll get her--or crack a cylinder!"
and he tried to get a few more revolutions out of the fly wheel.
In spite of their brave front, Russ and his companion were sufficiently
miserable. Their boat constantly shipped water, and they had to use the
hand force pump, which, fortunately, was in the craft. A pump was
connected with the cylinder cooling apparatus, designed to free the
cockpit of bilge water, but the pump would not work.
Russ and Mr. Sneed were wet through, for the cabin could not be entirely
closed against the spray. And they had nothing to eat except cold
victuals. There was a gasoline stove aboard, but there was nothing to
cook, for only an emergency ration had been put in the craft, and that
was more because of a whim on the part of Jack Jepson, than because he
really thought it would be needed.
But more than once as they drank of the water, and nibbled the hard
biscuits, or crackers, in the water-tight box, Russ and his companion
blessed the forethought of honest Jack Jepson--I beg his pardon,
Captain Jepson it was now, though neither Russ nor Mr. Sneed knew that.
"I think I'll hoist a signal," said the actor, as they drove on, now
seeing the steamer, and again losing her.
"Good idea," Russ agreed, as he busied himself with an oil can.
Mr. Sneed managed to lash an oar upright, and on it he fastened a bit of
canvas. It stood out straight, like a board, so strong was the wind that
whipped it.
"I hope they see that," commented the actor.
"I hope so, too," added Russ. "It doesn't do any good to yell, for the
wind is blowing from them to us."
More than once, as they urged their craft on a long slant toward the
steamer, they almost gave up hope. But it sprang up again, and finally,
as a break in the clouds let out a little rift of light, someone on the
watch aboard the steamer saw the fluttering signal.
"She's seen us! She's seen us!" cried Russ in delight.
"How can you tell?" demanded his companion.
"She whistled. I saw the steam. You'll hear the blast in a second."
And they did. Light travels faster than sound. They saw the steam from
the powerful whistle before they heard the hoarse blast; even as one
sees the flash of a gun before hearing the report.
The steamer changed her course, and came on toward the motorboat.
"Suppose it's the English one, that wants to capture poor Jack,"
suggested Mr. Sneed.
"That doesn't make any difference," Russ said. "She'll save us, and then
look for the schooner. We can take up Jack's case later."
It did not prove to be the English steamer. Instead it was a powerful
fruiter, hailing from New York, and Russ and Mr. Sneed were soon aboard,
the _Ajax_ being hoisted to her deck. Then she resumed her course, but
it was a different one.
For, on the earnest plea of Russ and Mr. Sneed, the steamer's captain
consented to turn back and search for the _Mary Ellen_.
"I don't know as I'll find her," he said, "but we can't let all those
poor souls perish."
So the search began. It lasted three days, during which the storm nearly
blew itself out. And on the morning of the fourth day, when the sullen
sea was trying to calm itself, and when the wind had died down to a
moderate gale, the lookout of the _Sirius_ called out:
"Sail ho!"
"Where away?" came the demand.
"Dead ahead. She's a schooner, low in the water, and she's flying a
signal of distress!"