A WARNING FROM THE SEA
Springing from their resting places the four boys staggered up the
unsteady companionway. As they gained the deck they were assailed by
terrific gusts of wind carrying sleet and snow. During their stay below
the weather had turned colder, bringing fitful dashes of sleet out of the
north. The schooner presently rode easier.
A hoarse order from forward was followed by a clanking of the cable
through the hawse pipes. The sails rattled with great slapping noises as
the Lena Knobloch rode to her anchor.
Men were instantly aloft securing the lighter topsails. With a run the
foresail and mainsail were lowered and furled. The staysail and jib had
but a moment before been lowered as the schooner was headed into the
wind. Under bare poles they rode on gentler swells.
“Where are we?” asked Harry, throwing up an arm to protect his face.
“Have we reached England yet? Where is the captain?”
“Vhell, how do you like id now?” roared the voice of von Kluck almost at
Harry’s elbow. “Vhat you tink of dis for some shtorm?”
“This is fierce!” replied the lad, bracing himself against the wind.
“Where are we now, Captain von Kluck?”
“Under der lee of one of der Friesian Islands,” replied the captain.
“I see some rocks aheadt und dere is a big shteamer in drouble oop to
vindvard. I hope she makes id into safety, bud I don’d know!”
Shaking his head doubtfully the captain went away forward. Presently he
returned, still shaking his head. The crew except the captain and the
mate were gathered forward round the capstan.
“Dere’s rocks dere—lots of dem!” announced von Kluck. “Dot wessel looks
like she’s lost her rutter, und if she gets off dem rocks dot captain
needs a medal. I tink he’s a goner, sure!”
It did, indeed, appear as if von Kluck was right. A big cargo steamer,
now dimly discernible to the boys, was rolling in the trough of a heavy
sea, urged on by a vicious wind from the northwest. Her range lights
showed clearly at the mast heads. A gleam of red indicated that the
vessel was showing her port side. With every roll great masses of water
boarded the weather rail, sweeping the decks of every movable object.
“Look!” cried the mate, excitedly pointing toward the steamer.
There was no need of explanation. A great mass of rock directly in the
path upon which the steamer was drifting sent gigantic columns of water
into the air with every wave. Although the eastern sky showed a tinge
of gray the blackness upon the water was intense. It was lightened
momentarily by the white smother of spray and foam cast upward as wave
after wave broke upon the black and threatening menace lying immediately
before the apparently doomed vessel.
“Py golly, he’s all right!” yelled von Kluck in a moment. “He’s lost dot
rutter und he’s backing on his enchines! He’ll make id!”
Surely enough the steamer’s captain was executing the very maneuver at
which von Kluck had guessed. By backing on his engines he succeeded in
drawing the vessel so far to one side of the dangerous rock that it was
passed. Only a margin extremely narrow intervened.
But the danger had not passed. Another rock threatened to tear to pieces
the all but helpless vessel. With straining eyes and beating hearts the
lads watched anxiously as this danger was also cleared.
They clung to the weather shrouds in spite of the whip-like sting of
sleet and spray, watching the struggle against wind, wave and rock.
At length the vessel won through the dangerous places. It was now so
close that the boys could make out the details of the rigging. Ned
procured a pair of binoculars and spelled out the name.
“That steamer is the Anne of Melbourne,” he announced. “I wonder if it
isn’t an Australian vessel. They have had a hard time of it.”
“She’s close to us now,” cried Harry. “I wonder what they’ll do.”
“If they’re wise they’ll let go an anchor and ride it out,” answered
Jimmie. “If I had sense enough to bring a vessel through a tight place
like that I’d get a hook overboard as soon as I could.”
“That’s just what they are doing!” announced Ned. “There’s a group of men
at the forward end preparing to get the anchor over.”
Directly the boys heard the rattle of the cable in the steamer’s hawse
pipes, followed instantly by a great splash at the bow that told as
plainly as words that the ground tackle was out.
Still feeling the heave of waves surging around the head of the island
the steamer slowly swung to her cable. The range lights shifted their
position. The red side light disappeared.
“She’s safe now!” cried Ned, in a tone of relief. “I’m glad they made it
all right. I wonder how they got crippled.”
“Let me take the glasses a minute, Ned,” requested Harry.
“Can you see what’s the matter with her?” queried Jimmie.
“Yes,” replied the boy, with the glasses to his eye. “Von Kluck was
right. It looks as if the rudder stock is twisted and bent badly out
of shape. As the stern lifts I can see the blades of the propeller all
right, but the rudder seems to be missing.”
“The Anne of Melbourne,” mused Ned. “I wonder now what that vessel is
doing away off up here. If they had a cargo destined for an English port
they should have been much farther south.”
“You don’t suppose the captain lost his reckoning and got this far out of
his course, do you?” suggested Jimmie.
“I don’t know,” replied Ned. Then turning to Captain von Kluck the lad
continued: “Captain, what do you think about it?”
“Mit der var doing so many tings, I don’d know what to tink!”
“I can see men moving about on deck now, apparently clearing up the
recent damage,” stated Harry. “And I see a Boy Scout, too!”
“No!” objected Jimmie. “Don’t say that! I don’t want any more Boy Scouts
mixed up in this! It isn’t fair!”
“Just the same, he’s there!” laughed Harry.
“Well, then,” stated Jimmie, with a sigh of resignation, “we are in for
another siege of it. I never knew it to fail! Just as quickly as we get
going somewhere and a Boy Scout shows up there’s trouble ahead and lots
of it! Why can’t they stay home?”
“Now, Jimmie,” cautioned Ned, “you know we’ve never in all our adventures
found a Boy Scout that really brought us ill luck. Sometimes they’ve
caused us a lot of trouble, but usually they help!”
“That’s true, too, but I wish we could get home to the little old U. S.
A. without mixing up in this ‘U-13’ business with the Boy Scouts!”
“Maybe it’ll come out all right after all,” soothed Ned.
“Maybe,” reluctantly agreed Jimmie. “I say, Harry,” he continued, “let
me take those glasses. I want to see what that fellow’s like.”
Long and eagerly the lad peered through the binoculars.
“I see him!” he cried, presently. “He’s going up the foreshrouds! I’ll
bet he’s working his passage on that steamer!”
“What’s he doing on the foreshrouds?” asked Ned.
“It looks as if something had fouled at the fore top,” replied Jimmie.
“He’s going up to clear it, I guess. Oh, look!” the boy shouted. “He’s
falling! He’s broken one of the ratlines and is falling!”
“I see him!” cried Ned. “I can see him!”
“Oh, good!” exclaimed Jimmie, the next moment. “He hit the shrouds and
the steamer rolled at the right minute, throwing him clear of the deck.
See that splash in the water?”
“I see it!” answered the others, together.
“Are they trying to help him?” asked Harry.
“Yes, they are,” stated Jimmie. “They’ve thrown him a ring buoy!”
“Can you see him now?” asked Ned.
“Yes, and he’s swimming. There must be a current in here that’s dragging
him away from the steamer. The buoy fell short and he’s swimming
directly away from the steamer. He’s coming towards us!”
Intently the lad watched the one in the water. He swam a good stroke
resting easily, even though somewhat impeded by his clothing.
Now and again as the crest of a wave approached the swimmer his head
was submerged, only to reappear again in the yeasty froth following
the racing monster. Eagerly his progress was noted by all on board the
schooner. They were at a loss to understand why he had left his own
vessel to swim toward a strange craft.
Presently, however, as he approached the Lena Knobloch the lad’s strokes
became more feeble. He was evidently tiring rapidly.
“Captain, what do you say to getting a boat over?” asked Ned.
“Vhait!” grunted von Kluck. “Id’s lots of vork to do id!”
“But the lad may need help!” urged Ned, eagerly.
“Vhell, if he needs id, I put him ofer. Nod before!”
Jimmie ran forward into the very eyes of the schooner. In his hands he
grasped a ring buoy, to which was attached a goodly length of line. This
he coiled ready to heave the buoy to the one in the water as soon as he
should come within reach.
Just as Jimmie was measuring with his eye the distance separating the
swimmer from his goal and preparing for a mighty throw of the buoy he
noted that the other’s stroke was fast weakening.
With a jerk the Wolf unfastened and kicked loose a shoe. In an instant
the other followed. A rapid movement loosened his jacket. A backward
twist of his shoulders helped him slip from the garment.
One look over the rail showed that the swimmer was losing control of his
muscles. Both hands went up into the air only to disappear beneath the
crest of an oncoming wave. The boy stayed under.
“Stand by to get me, boys!” shouted Jimmie.
A splash told that he had gone overboard. His companions crowded eagerly
to the rail, watching for his reappearance. In a moment they were
relieved to see his red head come up close to the spot where the other
had sunk. Emptying his lungs of the pent up air with a loud “Whoosh!” the
boy instantly refilled them to plunge again under water.
To the intense satisfaction of those on board the schooner he again came
quickly to the surface, this time dragging by the hair the boy to whose
rescue he had gone. Swimming on his back, using but one hand, Jimmie
slowly brought the other lad to a position where he could reach the buoy
flung to him by Ned’s strong arm.
Harry had already made a bowline in a bight at the end of a line. This
he passed over the side to Jimmie, who succeeded without difficulty in
getting the loop over the shoulders of the rescued lad.
Soon both were on deck, where they received the attentions of all
hands. Captain von Kluck insisted upon giving the newcomer a draught of
“schnapps” to assist in the reviving process. As the fiery liquor burned
its way down his throat the lad coughed violently.
Choking and spitting the lad clawed at his burning mouth and throat.
Evidently he thought the cure worse than the disease.
“Let’s get into the cabin,” suggested Jimmie. “I’m freezing!”
“Sure enough!” cried Ned. “How thoughtless of us! Captain,” he added,
“can you have the steward bring us some coffee?”
Roaring for the steward to perform this service, the captain picked
up the nearly drowned lad in his strong arms. He deposited the boy on
a locker in the cabin, then stood aside to permit his passengers to
administer such assistance as they might.
Ned stepped forward to begin operations. With a cry he bent over the boy.
Wonderingly the others crowded forward.
“Frank!” cried Ned, seizing the lad by the shoulders. “Frank! Speak to
me! Frank, how did you get here?”
“Who is it?” asked Jimmie, elbowing his way into the group to a position
where he could see the recumbent figure. “Why,” continued the boy in a
tone of amazement, “if it ain’t old Frank Shaw of New York!”
A cup of steaming coffee at this moment brought by the steward was
offered to the newcomer, who drank eagerly. He glanced about the group
with a faint smile in answer to their puzzled looks.
“Look out for the ‘U-13’, boys!” he said.