OVERBOARD IN THE DARK
Down, down, down into the chilling water went Alec. So confused was he
that he did not know which way was down and which was up. He opened his
eyes but the muddy water was inky black and he could see nothing. So
sudden and unexpected had been the attack that he had not had time even
to catch his breath before he sank beneath the water. Immediately he
began to suffer for air.
Instinctively Alec struck out, but after a few strokes he stopped
swimming. He was recovering his wits rapidly, and he realized that it
was worse than useless to try to swim until he knew in which direction
he was going. He might swim under a scow or boat and be drowned. It was
fortunate indeed that Alec ceased swimming when he did, for the tide and
his own efforts were taking him directly under a big oyster-float. The
instant he stopped swimming, the lifting force of the water shot him
upward. It was high time he got his head above water, for his lungs
seemed about to burst. He knew he could not hold his breath much longer.
With quick wit he raised his hands above his head the instant he felt
himself rising. And it was well he did so. Hardly had he lifted them
before he crashed into one of the great timbers of the oyster-float. The
impact almost broke his fingers; and although his hands lessened the
force of the blow, nevertheless he bumped his head so hard that for an
instant he was dazed. His extended hands alone had saved him from being
knocked senseless and drowned. For a second he lost control of himself
and swallowed some water. Sudden terror clutched his heart. He realized
that in another moment he might drown. Wildly, frantically, he clawed at
the timber above him. One hand met solid wood wherever it moved. But the
other shot upward into the free air. With his last remaining ounce of
strength Alec dragged himself from under the log that formed the edge of
the float and pulled himself up until his nose was above water.
Shuddering, gasping, gulping in both air and water, Alec clung to the
log desperately. Panic took possession of him. He tried to cry out, but
succeeded only in swallowing more water. Wildly he clutched the float
and tried to draw himself up on it; but the great round log, slippery
with mud and slime, gave him not the slightest finger hold. Almost
exhausted and nearly paralyzed with cold, he slipped back into the
water. But his hands still rested on the log.
Then he took a grip on himself and choked back the wave of fear that was
chilling his heart worse than the cold water was numbing his muscles.
He let his body sink in the flood until only his nose and eyes were
above water; and clinging to the log, he remained perfectly still for a
moment to recruit his waning strength. Meantime his mind and his eyes
were both busy.
By this time his eyes were free from water and accustomed to the
darkness. He could see fairly well. A hasty glance showed him a long
line of floats, oyster-boats, scows, and similar craft moored parallel
with the shore. He was in the smooth water between float and shore and
only a few yards distant from solid ground. With that realization a wave
of courage swept over Alec that seemed almost to warm him. For now he
knew he should get out all right. He had only to swim the little
distance between float and shore and he was safe.
Boldly he struck out, and a few strokes carried him close to the bank.
His foot touched bottom. He swam another stroke or two and put his feet
down to walk ashore. Then he gave a cry of terror as he felt himself
sinking down, down, down into the terrible, black, clinging mud. He
tried to raise his foot, but only sank the deeper. Already he was in mud
above his knees, and his nose was frightfully close to the surface of
the water. Through his head flashed the memory of the oyster stakes in
the muddy bottom of the Bay--six feet deep in the mud, so Sailor Bishop
had told him, and held so tight that they could not be pulled out. A
fresh wave of fear swept over him.
But he fought desperately to keep his wits. He realized that his broad
shoes would not go down into the mud like the sharpened ends of poles.
He stood perfectly still to see whether or not he was still sinking
deeper. When he realized that he was not, he could have shouted for joy.
The tide was running out, and the water would not come up over his head,
even if the mud did hold him prisoner for a time. But soon he realized
that cold could kill him quite as effectively as water. For now that the
fear of drowning had left him, he became conscious of the fact that he
was shaking all over and that his teeth were chattering terribly. He
must get out and get out at once. But how should he get out? He dared
not move, lest he sink deeper into the mud. And there did not appear to
be a soul anywhere around. There were no lights near. It was supper
time, and everybody had gone home for the night.
Suddenly he heard the steady put-put-put of a motor-boat coming up the
river. The sound drew near.
"Help! Help! Help!" cried Alec at the top of his voice.
But the boat continued to chug steadily upstream, its rhythmic
put-put-put-put drowning out all sound of Alec's feeble cries. Again and
again Alec called for help, but the boat went steadily on. It passed the
craft moored below Alec. It came abreast of the oyster-float. Still
Alec's cries were unheard. As the boat came directly opposite him, Alec
gathered his remaining strength for a last effort and fairly screamed,
"Help! Help! Help!"
There was a sudden commotion on the motor-boat. The steersman rose to
his feet and peered into the darkness. A second man shut off the engine.
"Hello!" hailed a voice from the boat. "Where are you?"
"Back of the oyster-float near shore," cried Alec. "I'm stuck in the
mud."
"Stand still and we'll get you in a minute," came the quick response.
"Put-put-put," went the little motor-boat again, and in another moment
it was alongside the float. A sailor leaped from the boat, with a coil
of rope in his hand. He splashed his way across the float, calling,
"Where are you?"
"Right here," called Alec, raising his arms above the water and waving
them in air.
"Catch this rope," answered the sailor, and a line came whizzing
straight into Alec's upraised arms.
"I've got it," said Alec.
"Tie it under your arms and hold fast."
Alec's hands shook so that he could hardly knot the rope, but finally he
had it fast about his chest. He grasped the rope at arms' length. "All
right," he cried.
"Heave ho!" sang the voice on the float. "Here you come, my hearty." And
the rope tightened.
Alec pulled on the rope as hard as he could, and worked his feet loose.
The instant he was free from the mud, he went skimming through the water
to the side of the float, where strong arms lifted him up.
"You didn't have much to go on," said the sailor. "It's a darned good
thing for you that the tide was running out instead of in. Who are you,
and how'd you come to get in the water? Been drinking?"
"My name's Alec Cunningham, and I belong on the _Bertha B_. Somebody
threw me overboard." Alec's teeth were chattering so that he couldn't
say another word.
"Drunk as a fool," said the sailor. "Bagley don't have any hand named
Cunningham. Wish I knowed where he belonged."
"I'm not drunk," said Alec, shivering more violently than before, "and I
do belong on the _Bertha B_. Just went to work this morning."
"Maybe he ain't drunk," said the steersman on the boat, as they stepped
aboard. "Maybe he does belong on her. We'll go see. We got to take him
somewhere darned quick or he'll freeze to death."
The motor-boat was headed down-stream and in a few minutes came
alongside the _Bertha B_. "Hello, Bagley!" called the steersman.
"Hello!" cried the skipper on the _Bertha B_, coming out on deck.
"Do you know a young fellow named Cunningham? Says he belongs to your
crew."
"Sure I do. What's happened to him?"
"We got him here. Just fished him out of the river."
"The deuce you did! Get him in here quick before he freezes."
Alec was helped aboard the _Bertha B_. He tried to thank the men who had
rescued him.
"Shut up and git in there by the fire," shouted Captain Bagley.
Alec hustled into the cabin. In all his life fire had never felt so
good.
"Boys," said Captain Bagley, "you saved a darned nice kid. How'd he git
in the water?"
"Says somebody throwed him in. Don't _look_ as though he was drunk,
though."
"No. He ain't drunk. And if he says somebody throwed him in, why,
somebody did. I'll find out about this. Good night." Captain Bagley
turned toward his cabin. "The old rip!" he muttered. "I knowed he was a
bad actor, but I never dreamed he'd attempt murder."
Then the captain was inside the cabin. "Strip them clothes off, quick!"
he called to Alec. Then turning to the engineer, he said, "What you
standing there for, Joe? Git the coffee-pot on and stir up the fire."
Captain Bagley seemed equal to any emergency. Before you could bat an
eye he had pulled the wet garments from Alec's shivering form and was
rubbing him with a rough towel. He rubbed until Alec's skin was aglow.
Then he dived into his bunk and from his locker drew out a clean suit
of heavy woolen underwear.
"Warm these," he said, handing the garments to Joe, while he himself
fell to rubbing and slapping Alec with his hands.
"Now git into them duds quick," he ordered, as Joe passed Alec the
underclothes, which he had been holding before the fire.
As Alec pulled on the warm clothes, the captain said, "Git this inside
you," and he poured out a cup of black coffee that was smoking hot.
Alec downed the draught, though it almost burned his mouth. The captain
poured another cup.
"Drink it," he said. Again he turned to the engineer. "See if Dick's got
any lemons in his cupboard."
The engineer found some. "Give 'em to me," said the captain. In a second
he had cut them in half and was squeezing out the juice. "Put a quart of
water over the open fire, Joe," he said.
Joe got the water. Captain Bagley poured the lemon juice into it, and
added some sugar. In no time the mixture was steaming.
"Drink it," said the captain.
"I'm full," said Alec. "I just had two cups of hot coffee."
"Shut up and drink it," said the captain.
As Alec took the proffered draught and began to sip it, the captain
roared, "Drink it!" And Alec downed the whole quart.
"Now stand just as close to the fire as you can. Joe, put on more
draft. Can't you get her any hotter?"
The stove was already cherry red, but that did not satisfy the energetic
skipper. Joe poked up the fire and Alec got as close to the stove as he
could. Soon he began to perspire profusely.
"Good!" said the oyster skipper, as he saw the beads of sweat gather and
run down Alec's face. "Now, you young rascal, tell us how all this
happened."
Briefly Alec related the story of his adventure.
"Who done it?" demanded Captain Bagley.
"I--I--I wouldn't like to say," said Alec, "because I am not absolutely
certain. I'd hate to accuse any man of attempting to commit murder
unless I was sure. I never really saw the man because it was so dark."
"Ain't you got any idea who it was?"
"All I've got to go on is the voice. I could hear that in the dark as
well as in the light."
"Had you heard it before?"
"Yes, sir. It sounded very much like the voice of the man you
discharged."
"I reckon you are right, youngster. I reckon you are right. I only wish
you was a little more certain about it. He ought to go to prison. But
I'd like to have sufficient evidence to make a case before I have him
arrested. Maybe I can find somebody who seen him in that neighborhood.
I'll scout around a bit and see what I can pick up."
"I wouldn't want him imprisoned," said Alec. "He didn't do me any harm,
even if he did try to."
"We don't know yet whether he did you any harm or not, and anyhow,
that's got nothing to do with it. We can't afford to have that sort of
cattle running at large."
Captain Bagley sat down and pondered over the matter for some time. "How
do you feel?" he asked suddenly.
"Pretty good," said Alec, "though my head aches something fierce. I
reckon it's from the bump I got."
"Well, that settles it. You don't ketch no oysters to-morrow."
"What do you mean?" asked Alec.
"I mean that you are not going out to the oyster grounds."
"Indeed I am," said Alec. "I'd be a nice sort of a pill to lay off when
you're so short handed, just because I got a ducking."
"Don't you give me any back talk," said the skipper, "or I'll throw you
overboard again. I know a lot more about falling into cold water than
you do. You may have a high fever by morning. And anyway, it's going to
be a darned nasty day. There's a storm brewin', and you'd more than
likely get sick. Then I would be up against it, wouldn't I, with only
three hands to work two dredges. I've got to have men I can depend
upon."
"You can depend upon me," protested Alec. "I'll work even if I am sick.
Won't you let me go, please? I just can't afford to lose a day. I need
the money so bad, sir."
"What for? You got a place to sleep and plenty to eat. Why do you need
money so bad?"
Alec turned his face away from the captain. "It's some bills I owe at
home," he said. There were tears in his voice, though he kept them out
of his eyes, and the captain forbore to question him.
"All right, lad," he said, in a tone of wonderful tenderness, "you shall
have your day's work. But you will have to do it ashore. I'll get one of
Zipp's men to help me and you can help Zipp."
"Who's Zipp, and what does he do?"
"Oh! That's Frank Jordan, the foreman of the scow gang. Zipp's his
nickname. He handles the oysters after we put them on the float. Now you
just stay by the fire and sweat, while I go to the office and talk to
the captain."
Captain Bagley let himself into the office with his key, turned up the
lights, and in a moment was talking to Captain Rumford over the
telephone.
"Sure," said the boss, when Captain Bagley had told him of Alec's mishap
and his plan for an exchange of men. "I'll call up Zipp right away, and
one of his men will be on hand in the morning. Leave the kid in the
office if you get away before Zipp gets there. We'll take good care of
him."