A MEETING IN THE FOG--CONCLUSION
"Can you make her out?"
Five pairs of eyes peered through the mist that hung like a white pall
an every side of the Flying Fish.
"Stop that motor a minute, while I listen!"
In compliance with Rob's order Merritt shut down the panting engine.
"What's that noise off there?" asked Hiram suddenly.
"That sort of throbbing sound?" rejoined Tubby Hopkins.
"That's it, sounds like a big heart beating," put in Rob.
"I guess that's their engine. They're tryin' ter back her off,"
suggested the captain.
"Give them a blast on that fog-horn and see if they answer," said Rob
suddenly.
Hiram took up the big brass fish-horn, used as a fog signal on the
Flying Fish, and blew a loud, long call.
After an interval of waiting, from out of the mist came the wail of the
stranded ship's siren once more.
"There she is, right in there," declared the captain, pointing seaward
into the mist. "Steer right on that tack, Rob, and we'll pick her up
pretty soon."
The motor was started up once more and the Flying Fish forged ahead
through the smother. Suddenly Rob, with a sharp cry of:
"Stop her!" swung his wheel over sharp and the Flying Fish headed about.
The gleaming black rampart of a large vessel's side had suddenly loomed
up dead ahead of him.
"Ahoy! aboard the steamer," roared the captain, framing his mouth with
his hands, "what ship is that?"
"The El Paso from London to New York," came back a hail from somewhere
above them in a somewhat surprised tone, "who are you?"
"The Flying Fish of Hampton, Long Island," responded Rob, with a laugh.
"Never heard of her," responded the voice, "we're hard aground on one
of your Long Island shoals it seems."
"That's what yer are," exclaimed the captain, "how come yer ter be
huggin' the shore so hard?"
"Trying to avoid a collision with another vessel."
"Are yer all right?" bellowed the captain.
"Seem to be. So far as we can find out there's not a plate started,
but if you're from the land we've got a couple of passengers we'd be
thankful if you'd take ashore. Will you come on board?"
"Sure, if yer'll drop a Jacob's ladder," bellowed the captain at the
invisible speaker.
"In a minute."
The conversation had been carried on without either of the parties to
it being able to see one another, but the captain of the vessel--for he
had been the boy's interlocutor--now came off the bridge and with some
of the crew watched two sailors lower a Jacob's ladder and make it fast
to the rail.
"Now we go aboard," said Captain Hudgins, clambering up the swaying
contrivance as nimbly as an athlete, "make our painter fast ter the
ladder, Rob."
This being done, the boys followed the veteran on board. The steamer,
when they gained her deck, puzzled them a good deal and it was not till
her captain, a genial blond-bearded Britisher, explained to them that
she was a cattle ship that they understood the utility of the wooden
structures with which her decks were obstructed.
The captain explained that these were pens for the cattle she expected
to take back to England, from which country she was returning after
having taken over a large consignment of steers.
"Which," went on the captain, "brings us to my passengers. They are
Mr. Frank Harkness and his son, of Lariat, a small cattle town in the
West, where Mr. Harkness has a large ranch. They were his cattle that
we took over and as he had difficulty in engaging a berth on a liner at
this time of year, when the passenger ships are crowded, he decided to
return with us. Here is Mr. Harkness now," he added, as a tall,
bronzed man, with a long coat draped over a pair of broad shoulders,
and a wide-brimmed sombrero above keen eyes, approached.
"Visitors from the shore, captain?" he inquired, a pleasant smile
illuminating his clean-shaven, sun-browned face.
"That's what they are," rejoined the captain, "just dropped in on us,
don't you know."
"You mean we dropped in on them," amended the other with a laugh, "come
here, Harry," he called, raising his voice, "we've got some company out
of the fog."
In response to his call a lad about the age of Rob appeared from the
after-end of the ship, where the cabins were, and greeted the boys with
a smile and a nod. He, like his father, wore a sombrero and was quite
as sunburned. For the rest he was well-knit and athletic looking and
had evidently lived an out-door life.
"Well, we are getting plenty of experiences away from the ranch, eh,
Harry?" observed his father, after the boys and the captain had
introduced themselves and there had been a great and ceremonious
hand-shaking all round.
"We just naturally are," responded the rancher's son. "Say, captain,"
he went on, "when do you expect to get off?"
"If we are not too badly hung up we ought to get off at high-water,"
rejoined the Britisher.
"That won't be till late to-night," observed Rob.
"If I could only get a tug we might do better," observed the captain,
"in fact, since I've had the engines going I don't think we can back
off under our own power."
"Have you got a wireless?" asked Hiram, his pet subject uppermost.
"Yes, but our operator went ashore in London and I guess he had too
good a time; anyhow he never showed up so we had to cross without one."
"Is she working?" asked Hiram interestedly.
"Sure, there's plenty of 'juice' as the operators, call it. I tried to
work it coming over," laughed Harry, "but outside of getting a proper
shock, I didn't do much."
"I'll send out a signal for a tug," said Hiram quietly, "there's a
station at Island. They'll pick up the message and transmit it."
"What--you can work a wireless?"
"A little bit," said the lad modestly.
"Come on, I'll show you the way," said the delighted captain, starting
off with Hiram, and followed by the others.
"Say, don't think it personal of me, will you?" remarked Harry Harkness
to Rob as they followed, "but would you mind telling me what you all
are wearing those uniforms for?"
"Why, we're Boy Scouts," rejoined Rob proudly, and went on to explain
just what the organization is.
"Say, that's great," exclaimed Harry enthusiastically, "I'd like to
form a patrol out at Lariat. Do you reckon I could?"
"I don't doubt it," rejoined Rob, smiling the Western enthusiasm.
"By cracky, I'll do it," went on Harry Harkness, "I'll make it a
mounted patrol and if we don't get old 'Silver Tip' then, besides all
the other sport we'll have, call me a coyote."
"Who or what is old Silver Tip?" asked Rob, somewhat interested in his
breezy new acquaintance.
"Silver Tip is a grizzly," explained Harry, "a grizzly bear you know.
Dad says he's the biggest he's ever seen and he seems to bear--excuse
the pun, please--he seems to bear a charmed life. All the boys on the
ranch are crazy to get a shot at him, but they've never been able to."
"Say, that sounds bully," agreed Rob, "I wish I could get out West for
a while."
"It's a great country," said Harry sagely, as they entered the wireless
room, where Hiram was already bending over the instrument sending out a
message for aid, while the blue spark leaped and crackled across its
gap. The others gazed on admiringly as Hiram, having completed his
message, adjusted the detector on his head and awaited an answer.
It soon came. Tugs would be dispatched as soon as the fog lifted, the
operator at Fire Island announced.
"That's a weight off my mind," breathed the captain, while Harry
hastily confided to his father that the lads who had boarded the vessel
out of the mist were Boy Scouts.
"The fog is lifting," announced Rob, as they streamed out of the
wireless room.
"Yes, the wind has shifted," remarked Captain Hudgins. "I guess it was
that sou'west breeze that brought the mist. She's hauled ter the
nor'west now, and in an hour's time it will be clear."
"I wonder if you boys can put us ashore," said Mr. Harkness, as the
group walked aft to the captain's cabin; "I would be very grateful if
you could. It seems that it will be some time before the steamer is
cleared, and I am anxious to make a train for the West."
The boys agreed to land the ranchman and his son as soon as the fog
cleared off, which, as the captain had prophesied, it did in about an
hour's time. The boys had spent the interim in exploring the ship and
listening to Harry Harkness' tales of the ranch and the marvelous
exploits of Silver Tip, the huge grizzly, who derived his name, it
appeared, from a spot of white fur on his breast. In fact, so fast did
they get on, that by the time Harry and his father were called by
Captain Hudgins to embark in the Flying Fish, the boys had become fast
friends.
The run to the shore was made quickly and by landing the two travelers
at a point above Hampton they were enabled to make a train that would
land them in the city in time for dinner. Mr. Harkness whiled away the
trip by plying the boys with all sorts of questions about the Boy
Scouts and seemed greatly interested in their answers. Altogether the
boys felt quite sorry when it came time to part at the wharf at
Farmingdale, the place where the rancher and his son were put ashore.
"Well, good-bye, boys," said Mr. Harkness, holding out a big hand to
Rob, who took it and was amazed to find a twenty dollar gold piece
slipped into his palm by the ranchman.
"Oh, I couldn't think of taking that," he said, insisting on handing it
back despite the ranchman's protests, "I appreciate your motive, but I
couldn't think of taking any money for an ordinary courtesy."
"By Sam Hooker, you're right, boy," cried the ranchman heartily, "and
it's a privilege to meet such a bunch of fine lads. I thought all you
Easterners were a bunch of stuck-up tenderfeet, but I find I'm
wrong--anyhow so far as the Boy Scouts are concerned."
A few minutes later the rancher and his son were hastening to the
railroad station, followed by the boys' eyes. As they entered the
depot, just in time to catch the New York train--they waved a hearty
farewell and the boys waved and shouted in return.
"We've only known them a few hours, but I feel as if I'd just said
good-bye to two friends," said Rob as they turned away and prepared to
go back to the island in their boat and break camp.
"So do I!" said Tubby; "I wonder if we'll ever see them again."
"No, I guess they're kind of ships that pass in the night,"' laughed
Merritt, "however, I'm glad we did them a good turn."
The boys, however, were destined to meet the ranchers again and to have
many strange and exciting adventures, among which the ultimate downfall
of Silver Tip was to be one. Could they have looked into the future,
too, they would have seen that in the Far West they were to face
dangers and difficulties of which they had as yet never dreamed and
were to be the victims of the malicious contrivings of Bill Bender and
our old, acquaintance, Jack Curtiss.
A few weeks after the events related above there was great excitement
in Hampton over the announcement that Merritt's courageous act of
life-saving and the achievements of the other young scouts of the Eagle
Patrol were to receive official recognition. A field secretary of the
organization arrived at the village one evening and was met at the
depot by the Patrol in full uniform, and with the village band drawn up
at their head. Proudly, under the Eagle standard, they marched to the
Town Hall, which had been illuminated in a style the villagers would
never have believed possible and were greeted by the local committee
headed by Commodore Wingate and Mr. Blake.
"Three cheers for the Boy Scouts!" came from a voice in the back of the
crowded hall after the honors had been distributed and the advances in
rank announced.
The shout that went up cracked the plaster on the ceiling of the
venerable building.
"Speech, speech," shouted one of those individuals who always do raise
that cry on the slightest excuse.
Rob Blake, very red and protesting, was hustled to the front of the
stage on which the Scouts had been drawn up.
"I can't make a speech," he began.
"Hear! Hear!" shouted the crowd, most of whom couldn't.
"But on behalf of the Boy Scouts I want to thank you all and--and--"
The rest was drowned by the band which, having been quiescent for ten
whole minutes, could maintain silence no longer and blared out into
that favorite of all village bands, "Hail to the Chief."
"Come on, let's get out of here," whispered Rob to Merritt, whose
breast was decorated with the coveted bronze cross and red ribbon,
which is the highest honor a scout can attain.
As they slipped out upon the darkened street a boy came up to them with
an outstretched hand.
"I want to tell you I'm sorry for the part I played in the mean tricks
Jack Curtiss and Bill Bender put up on you fellows," he said
contritely, "will you shake hands?"
"Sure we will, Sam Redding," responded Merritt, extending his palm,
while Rob did likewise.
"At that," added Merritt, "I guess we win."
And here, with their former enemy become a remorseful friend, we will,
for the present, leave the Boy Scouts to renew our acquaintance with
them in the next volume of this series which will be called: "The Boy
Scouts on the Range."
THE END