SCOUTS IN NEED ARE FRIENDS INDEED
"Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta! Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta! Ta-ra-ta-rata! Ta-ra-ta-a-a!"
Andy's bugle briskly announced the last morning of the Boy Scouts' camp
on Topsail Island. Already the first breath of autumn had begun to
tint the leaves of the earlier fading trees, and the chill of the early
dawn was noticeable.
During their stay in camp the lads had profited in every way. The scout
program as sent out for camps by headquarters had been gone, through
with some modifications, and Sim Jeffords had qualified as a
first-class scout while Martin Green, Walter Lonsdale and Joe Digby,
once more as merry as ever, were all fitted for their second-class
scout diplomas. The prospect of another patrol in Hampton had been
discussed and the outlook for one seemed favorable.
As the last notes of Andy's call--to turn to the subject of the opening
of this chapter--rang out the tousle-headed, sleepy-eyed scouts
appeared from their tents and found themselves enveloped in a fleecy
mist--such a light fog as is common on that part of the Atlantic coast
at this season of the year.
"Pretty thick!" was Rob's comment as he doused his face in his tin
basin.
"Hull-o-o-o!" suddenly hailed a voice from the water, "got any
breakfast fer an old shipmate?"
Through the fog the boys could make out the dim outline of the
captain's motor boat even if it's apoplectic cough had not already told
them it was there.
"Sure, come ashore," hailed Merritt.
A few moments later the hearty old seaman was sitting down with the
lads and performing miracles of eating.
"It's a good thing we haven't all got your capacity," remarked Rob,
laughing, "or that provision tent wouldn't have held out very long."
"Wall, boys," observed the captain, drawing out a black pipe and
ramming some equally black tobacco into it with a horny thumb, "a full
hold makes fair sailin', that's my motto and 'Be Prepared' is yers. A
man can be no better prepared than with a good meal under his belt.
Give me a well-fed crew and I'll navigate a raft to Hindustan, but a
pack uv slab-sided lime juicers couldn't work a full-rigged ship uv the
finest from here to Ban-gor."
Having delivered himself of this bit of philosophy, the captain passed
on to another subject.
"Hear'n anything uv them varmints what slipped their moorings on the
train?" he asked.
"We heard that they had gone West," rejoined Merritt, "but to just what
part I don't know."
"That thar Sam Reddin' boy clar'd himself uv all suspicion, did he?"
went on the old man.
"Yes, after he had admitted that Jack Curtiss and Bill Bender and
himself stole our uniforms and robbed you--"
"Consarn him," interrupted the captain.
"You needn't grumble, his father paid you back all that was taken,"
observed Merritt.
"That don't lessen the crime," grunted the captain, "heave ahead with
yer yarn, my boy; yer was sayin' that that Reddin' boy admitted
everythin'."
"Well," continued Rob, "in consideration of his confession, it was
agreed not to prosecute him and he seems to be a reformed character.
He absolutely denied, though, having had anything to do with the
kidnapping of Joe Digby here, and I believe he is telling the truth."
"The truth ain't in any uv them fellers, that's my belief," snorted the
captain, "and if ever I get my hands on that thar Jack Curtiss or Bill
Bender I'll lay onto 'em with a rope's end."
"Oh, we'll never see them again," laughed Rob.
It may be said here, however, that in this he was very much mistaken.
Rob and his friends did meet the bully again and under strange
circumstances, in scenes far removed from the peaceful surroundings of
Hampton.
"Fog's thickenin'," observed the captain squinting seaward.
As he remarked, the mist was indeed increasing in density, shrouding
the surroundings of the camp completely and covering the trees and
bushes with condensed moisture, which dripped in a slow, melancholy
sort of way from their limbs.
"Bad weather for ships," observed Merritt.
"Yer may well say that, my lad, and this is a powerful bad part uv the
coast ter be navigatin' on in a fog. I've heard it said that there's a
lot uv iron in the Long Island shoals and that this deflects the
compasses uv ships that stay too near in shore in a fog. I don't know
how that maybe, I don't place a lot uv stock in it myself, but I do
know that steamers and vessels uv al kinds go ashore here more than
seems ter be natural."
As he finished speaking there came, the fog a sound that fitted in so
well with subject of his conversation that it almost an accompaniment
to it.
"Who-oo-oo-oo!"
"A steamer's siren," exclaimed Rob.
"That's what it is, lad," assented the old sailor, as the sound came
again, booming through the fog with a melancholy cadence.
"Who-o-o-o-o-o!" roared the siren once more.
"I'll bet the feller who's on the bridge uv that ship is havin' his own
troubles just about now," remarked the captain, "hark at that!"
The whistle was now roaring like a wounded bull, sending distinct
vibrations of sound through the increasing fog billows.
"Thick as pea soup," commented the captain, refilling his pipe, "reckon
I'll have ter stay here till she lifts a bit. Wind's hauled to the
sou'west too. Bad quarter means more fog and smother."
"Who-o-o-o-o!" boomed the siren of the hidden vessel once more, and
this time it was answered by another whistle somewhere further off in
the fog.
"Two uv 'em now. Stand by fer a collision," shouted the captain, while
the scouts, intensely interested in the development of this hidden
drama of the fog, clustered about him.
"Who-o-o-o-o! Who-o-o-o-o! Who-o-o-o-o!" came the nearest siren.
"She's standin' in shore," shouted the captain, "boys, she's in grave
danger."
"What's she coming in for?" asked Merritt.
"I suppose her skipper thinks he's got plenty uv water under his keel
and wants ter give a wide berth ter the other vessel," explained the
captain. "Boys, if only we had a big bell or a steam whistle we could
warn them poor fellows uv their peril."
"It does seem hard to hear them blundering in and not be able to warn
them," agreed Rob, "there should have been a lighthouse put on these
shoals long ago."
"Right yer are, boy, but the government is a slow movin' vessel and
hard ter get under way."
The boys had to laugh at this odd way of expressing the difficulty of
getting new lights erected, but they knew as well almost as their
companion the dangers of the ocean off this part of Long Island.
The whistle boomed out its wailing note again.
"Closer and closer," lamented the captain, "what's the matter with
those lubbers? Yer'd think they'd have a leadsman out."
All at once the catastrophe for which they had been more or less
prepared happened. So quickly did it come that they had not time to
speak.
The echoes of the last note of the siren had hardly died out when there
came a loud explosion.
"Bang!"
"A signal gun," roared the captain.
"They are calling for help?" asked Rob.
"That's it, my boy. They've struck, just as I thought they would."
The distress gun sounded again.
"They're in a bad mess by the sound uv that," said the captain.
"It doesn't sound as if they were more than half a mile or so out,"
remarked Rob.
"I guess they're not. Hark at that! They must be scared ter death."
The gun was fired three times in rapid succession.
"They'll never hear that at Lone Hill life savin' station," grimly
commented the captain, "and this fog's too thick fer them ter see her."
"Do you imagine she is badly damaged, captain?" asked Rob anxiously.
The idea of the stranded ship lost in the dense fog affected him
strangely.
"Can't tell," the captain replied to his question, "may have stove a
hole in herself and be sinking now."
"Can't we do something to help them?" asked Merritt eagerly.
"Only one thing we can do, boy, and that's full uv danger."
"What is it?" demanded Rob, ignoring the last part of the captain's
speech.
"Get in ther boat and go out thar to 'em. If they're sinkin' we can
help 'em a whole lot, and--"
The captain stopped short in amazement.
Rob, Merritt and Tubby had already started for the beach and Hiram,
"the wireless scout", was close on their heels.
"Well, douse my toplights," exclaimed the captain, rising to his feet
and lumbering after them, "Yer can't beat the Boy Scouts."