THE FLEET SETS SAIL
"Come over here to the table and set down," said the cook, with a kindly
smile. So tiny was the cabin that one step took Alec to the proffered
stool. Ravenously hungry though he was, his surroundings were so new and
interesting that for a moment he almost forgot to eat, as he looked
around the cabin.
Tiny it was, indeed. And yet everything in it was so compactly arranged
that half a dozen men could live in it. In one corner stood a small,
square stove, now delightfully hot, with its top guarded by a slender
iron railing, like a miniature fence. Alec knew at once that this was to
keep the pots and pans from sliding off the stove when the ship was
pitching about. Even the dishes were suggestive of rough weather; for
the cook had given Alec his coffee in a big bowl, and the huge plate
which he was filling up with pork-chops, fried eggs, and steaming fried
potatoes, was nothing but a great soup plate. Beside the stove stood a
little cupboard, and this, with the stove, practically filled the stern
end of the cabin. A coal-oil lamp was fastened to the wall between stove
and cupboard.
There was just room enough left in this part of the cabin for the men
to pack themselves around the table. The table, however, occupied less
space than any table Alec had ever heard of, for it was nothing but two
smooth, unpainted boards, perhaps four feet long, and hinged so as to
fold together lengthwise. One end of this table now rested in a frame on
the port side of the cabin, while the other end was slung from the cabin
roof by a rope.
Alec thought he had never tasted anything so good as the pork-chops and
fried eggs. Before he knew it, the cook was filling up his plate again,
and pouring him a second bowl of coffee. Alec dumped some sugar in it
and poured out a generous supply of condensed milk from the tin can the
cook shoved toward him.
Now he noticed that the little cabin had a window and a door on each
side. The stove and the cupboard occupied the stern end of the cabin.
The forward end of the cabin contained bunks, built one above another,
along the sides, where several men could sleep. The forward end of the
cabin had been converted into a little pilot-house, with glass windows
along its entire front and a door at each side, where the captain
operated the boat.
For, like most of the oyster craft, the _Bertha B_ had been changed from
sailing ship to power boat. The four-cylindered gasoline engine that
drove the ship and operated the oyster-dredges stood immediately below
the cabin bunk room. Alec could see the engine, for a little hatchway in
the floor of the cabin led directly to the engine room. The hatch was
open and Alec could see a man oiling and adjusting the engine,
preparatory to getting under way.
When Alec had eaten his fill, the cook began to wash the dishes. Alec
picked up a dish towel and dried them. The cook seemed surprised and
pleased. Alec stacked the dishes away in a tiny cupboard behind the
bunks, at the cook's direction, while the cook folded up the table and
stowed it in a rack overhead, leaving the tiny cabin clear and orderly.
"Thanks," smiled Dick, when they had finished; and the way the cook
spoke made Alec feel that he had won a friend.
"If a little thing like drying the dishes will win friends for a
fellow," said Alec to himself, "I'll wipe them every time I get a
chance. I never realized until the last few weeks how much friends mean
to a fellow."
To the cook he said, "Will it be all right for me to go on deck?"
"Sure," said the cook. "But put this on." And from a bunk he pulled a
heavy reefing-jacket.
Gratefully Alec pulled on the coat and stepped out on deck. By this time
the eastern sky was aglow. The fog-bank had dissipated. The sun was not
yet up, but there was sufficient light for Alec to see.
The first thing to catch his attention was the ship that had fouled the
_Bertha B_ and the boats alongside of her. These craft, as close
together as the fingers of one's hand, lay with their noses pointing
up-stream. Across the bows of the outermost was jammed the offending
vessel, the rushing ebb-tide holding her fast. The end of her bowsprit
dangled helplessly and a broken jib-stay was waving about in the wind.
Jammed tight in her rigging was the bowsprit of one of the ships she had
fouled, holding her tight, like an apple spitted on a stick. But no
damage had been done excepting to the offending vessel herself. Men were
pushing against the ship with boat-hooks, while Captain Hardy's own crew
were pumping at a capstan from which a hawser, stretched tight as a
fiddle string, ran to an up-stream pier.
The master of the boat was an evil-looking fellow, as burly as he was
hard-featured. In a great, roaring voice he was cursing his crew,
blaming them for the mishap he was responsible for himself. With angry
impatience Captain Bagley watched the efforts that were making to free
the boat.
"The old fool," he muttered, and to Alec he said, "That fellow ought to
be doing time at Trenton. He's always up to something crooked. The last
time they caught him, he was dredging illegally in the natural beds. He
got off with a fine, but I reckon the next time he gets caught in any
crooked business, he'll go to prison."
For a few moments Alec watched the sailors pumping at the capstan. Then
his gaze shifted to other interesting sights about him.
Down-stream and up, rose a forest of masts; for the pier off which the
_Bertha B_ now lay was only one of a score or more parallel piers. And
off each pier were moored six or eight vessels, with still other ships
at greater distances, tied along the shore beyond the great pier shed.
There were scores and scores of boats, mostly two-masted schooners.
Across the river, which was perhaps 1,000 feet wide, was a second great
pier shed that extended along the shore for hundreds of feet, also with
piers running out from it into the river every few rods. And here, and
along the shore above and below the piers, were anchored other scores of
boats. Altogether, the oyster fleet numbered some hundreds of vessels.
On every ship were signs of activity. In every rigging red and green
lights already sparkled, or men were about to hoist them. On some ships
white lights glimmered aloft; while more and more boats were showing
white lights at their sterns.
Fascinated, Alec watched the scene. For ship after ship, on either side
of the river, now cast off her lines, swung gracefully with the current
and headed down-stream. On every hand rose the steady put-put-put of
ships' motors. For although most of the oyster craft still carried
sails, practically all of them were driven by gasoline, their sails
being used merely as auxiliaries to their engines, or to steady them
when dredging in a wind.
And now Alec saw something that made his eyes fairly pop open with
astonishment. Down-stream came a shapely schooner, sails set and
bellying in the wind. But it was neither wind nor tide that drove her so
fast. For behind her, immediately below her white stern light, was a
chugging motor-boat, nose hard against the schooner, pushing her along
at a merry pace. Alec could hardly trust his eyes. For the little
motor-boat was fastened with its nose high in air and its stern deep in
the tide, and had not a soul aboard of her. But above her, at the wheel
on the stern of the schooner, stood a silent steersman. While Alec was
debating with himself as to whether he should believe what he saw or
not, a second oyster-boat came slipping by, also driven by a little
power boat astern. Before he reached the oyster-beds, Alec saw dozens of
boats so operated; and the cook told him that when the oyster-boats
changed from sail power to motors, some ships, like the _Bertha B_, had
had engines installed in their holds, while others were driven instead
by small power boats.
Presently the ship across their bow was pulled loose, freeing the little
fleet. The outer vessel immediately cast loose, swung in the tide, and
headed down the river. Meantime, a bell rang, there was a sudden
chug-chug-chug alongside, the clank of machinery was heard below, and
the _Bertha B_ began to vibrate. The captain was warming up his motor.
Then, "Cast off!" came the order from the pilot-house. The hawsers were
hauled aboard. The _Bertha B_ moved forward, described a great arc in
the river, and headed for the sea.
Wonderful was the sight that now greeted Alec's eyes. Like a flock of
closely herded sheep, the oyster-boats were making for the dredging
grounds. Before him, beside him, and behind him, their sails showing
faintly in the dim light, Alec saw scores of moving ships. Now he
understood the purpose of all the lights he had seen hoisted. Ahead of
him dozens of stern lights shone white, showing exactly where each ship
was riding. And astern, red and green lights flashed their guiding
signals.
As the light grew stronger, the scenes around the _Bertha B_ stood out
more and more distinctly. Accustomed as Alec was to mountains and
limited views, the pictures that now unfolded before his eyes were like
visions of a new world. The view was boundless. At least, it stretched
level to the distant horizon in every direction. East, west, north,
south, look where he would, the land was as level as a floor. The river
wound about like a snake, and after the _Bertha B_ had traversed one or
two of these serpentine reaches, she seemed to be in the centre of a
vast marsh-land. Everywhere stretched limitless areas of salt meadow.
Cattails, tall rushes, reeds, salt hay, sedges, and other marshy
growths, standing dead and sere, painted the marshes a monotonous brown.
The slightest thing that rose above the general level seemed magnified
into a great bulk. Here and there distant stacks of salt hay stood up
against the sky-line; but they seemed huge, gigantic, unlike any
haystacks Alec had ever seen. And here and there, also, stood solitary
trees or groups of trees, seemingly thrusting their heads into the very
clouds.
But ever the young oysterman's roving eye came back to the moving fleet.
Two, three, and sometimes even four abreast, trailing close on one
another's heels, the white oyster-boats moved out to sea in majesty.
Overhead sailed innumerable gulls, watching for the scraps thrown from
nautical breakfast tables. And when some cook stepped to his deck and
dumped his table scrapings overboard, gulls came darting from far and
near and settled down to fight and cry over the spoils.
Suddenly Alec heard the captain's voice. "Come in here, youngster. I
want to talk with you."
Alec made his way through the cabin into the pilot-house, which was just
deep enough to allow a person to stand comfortably or to sit on a stool.
The floor of the pilot-house was considerably higher than the deck
level, and Alec could see much better here. Also, it was warm. And
although he had been so fascinated by the scene that he had momentarily
forgotten about the weather, he now realized that he had been cold out
on the deck.
A flash of light caught his eye. Then another light blinked at a much
greater distance. "What are those lights?" Alec asked the captain.
"Those are the range-lights, to show the way into the harbor. And off
there you can see East Point Light."
Alec followed the pointing finger of the captain and saw, off the port
bow, a third light gleaming.
"We seem to be catching those fellows ahead," commented Alec.
"I reckon they're stuck in the mud," said the captain. "This northeast
wind's been blowing hard for eighteen hours. It will make pretty low
water."
"How much water does the _Bertha B_ draw?" inquired Alec.
"Four or five feet," said the captain.
"Then we ought not to have any trouble," said Alec. "It looks as though
this river was pretty deep."
"Oh! There's plenty of water in the river; but there's a bar across the
mouth of it, and with this wind blowing there won't be much water over
it."
Rapidly the _Bertha B_ drew near the boats ahead of her. "They're all
fast," commented the captain, as they passed a schooner on which a
sailor was sounding with a pole. "Don't believe he's got three feet of
water," the captain added. "And look there! The bar's clear out of
water, with a flock of gulls on it. That's a sight you don't often
see--the bar out of water."
Alec looked where the captain was pointing, and there, a long distance
off the port bow, where the river entered the Delaware Bay, was a
distinct black streak in the water, roughened at one end. The rough
spots were gulls. But Alec would never have known that the black streak
was a strip of mud and the knobby end was a mass of birds, had not the
captain told him.
"Are we going to get through?" asked Alec, for the _Bertha B_ was still
slowly forging ahead.
"I don't know," said the captain. "We're in the mud now, but we've got a
good engine and if we can keep in the channel, maybe we can make it. But
she's hard to steer in the mud and most of those boats are right in the
channel."
Slowly the _Bertha B_ continued to move through the mud. A short
distance ahead of her a schooner lay directly in the path. The captain
turned his wheel and tried to swing the _Bertha B_ to one side, but she
would not turn. Nearer she came and still nearer to the stranded
schooner. But the captain could not turn her. A collision seemed
inevitable.
"Let go that starboard dredge," cried the captain to Sailor Bishop, who
was still on deck. At the same instant the captain signalled sharply to
the engineer. For a single moment the propeller ceased to turn. Then the
_Bertha B_ trembled from end to end, as the engine started again, full
speed astern. The effect was instantaneous. The _Bertha B_ almost
stopped in her tracks. Before ever the sailor could reach the dredge and
heave it overboard, the oyster-boat swung slightly to one side and lay
still.
"Never mind that dredge," called the captain. To Alec he said, "We're
done. All we can do is to lay here and wait for the tide to float us."