LARRY'S SCOOP
"Are there many women aboard?" asked Larry, as he moved off through
the rain toward the life-saving station with the rescued passenger.
"I was the only one," was the answer the woman made, in a pronounced
Italian accent. "I am the purser's wife. They made me come first. Me
and the baby," and she put her lips down and kissed the little face
nestled in the folds of the shawl.
"The purser's wife!" exclaimed Larry. "Perhaps your husband will
bring the passenger list with him. I would like to get it. I am a
newspaper reporter," he added.
The woman, with a rapid movement, held out a bundle of papers to
him.
"What are they?" Larry asked.
"The list of passengers! You reporters! I have heard of you in my
country, but they do not such things as this! Go to wrecks to meet
the passengers when they come ashore! You are very brave!"
"I think you were brave to come first across the waves," replied
Larry. "The rope might break."
"I had my baby," was the answer, as if that explained it all.
"Do you think your husband would let me telegraph these names to my
paper?" asked Larry.
"He gave them to me to bring ashore, in case--in case the ship did
not last," the purser's wife said, with a catch in her voice. "You
may use them, I say so. I will make it right."
This was just what Larry wanted. The hardest things to get in an
accident or a wreck are the names of the saved, or the dead and
injured. Chance had placed in Larry's hands just what he wanted.
He hurried on with the woman, who told him her name was Mrs.
Angelino. He did not question her further, as he felt she must be
suffering from the strain she had undergone. In a short time they
were safe at the station, and there Mrs. Needam provided warm and
dry garments for mother and child, and gave Mrs. Angelino hot
drinks.
"Ah, there is my reporter!" exclaimed the purser's wife, when she
was warm and comfortable, as she saw Larry busy scanning the list of
passengers. "He came quick to the wreck!"
"Can you lend me some paper?" Larry asked Mrs. Needam.
"What for?"
"I want to write an account of the rescue and copy these names. I
must hurry to the telegraph office. I left my paper in the
fisherman's hut."
"I'll get you some," said Captain Needam's wife, and soon Larry was
writing a short but vivid story of what had taken place, including a
description of the storm, and the saving of the only woman on board,
with her baby, by means of the breeches buoy. Then he copied the
list of names.
"There's something I almost forgot," said Larry when he had about
finished. "There's that passenger who came ashore on the life-raft.
I wonder who he was? I'll ask Mrs. Angelino."
But she did not know. She was not aware that any one had come ashore
on a raft, for, in the confusion of the breaking up of the ship in
the storm, she thought only of her husband, her baby and herself.
"I can find out later," Larry thought.
He gave the list back to Mrs. Angelino, and then, with a good
preliminary story of the wreck, having obtained many facts from the
purser's wife, Larry set out through the storm for the nearest
telegraph station.
"Don't you want some hot coffee before you go?" asked Mrs. Needam.
"I've got lots--ready for the poor souls that'll soon be here."
Larry did want some. He was conscious of a woeful lack of something
in his stomach, and the coffee braced him up in a way he very much
needed.
It was quite a distance from the life-saving station to the nearest
telegraph office, but Larry knew he must make it if he wanted an
account of the wreck to get to his paper in time for the edition
that day. So he set off for a tiresome trudge over the wet sand. As
he was leaving, several men, who had been brought ashore from the
ship, came to the station. From them Larry learned that part of the
ship was likely to last until all the passengers and crew could be
saved. He then resolved to telegraph the story of the saving of all,
knowing he could make corrections by an additional message later in
case, by some accident, any lives were lost.
To get to the telegraph office Larry had to go back to a point
nearly opposite where the life savers were working, and then strike
inland. As he was hurrying along he came to a little hummock of
sand, from which elevation he could look down on the beach and see
the crowd gathered about the breeches buoy. Out on the bar he could
make out the wrecked vessel. As he stood there a moment he saw some
one detach himself from the crowd and hurry across the intervening
beach.
"That figure looks familiar," thought Larry. "I wonder if that's
Bailey the fisherman?"
He waited a few minutes, and the figure became more distinct.
"It's Peter Manton!" cried Larry. "He's been sent down here to
report the wreck! I wonder what paper he's on? But I guess I haven't
any time to stand here wondering. I've got to beat him to the
telegraph office if I want to get a scoop, though he can't have been
on hand long enough to get much of an account."
Still Larry knew that even a brief and poor account of anything, if
it got in first, was enough to discount or "take the edge off" a
better story told later, and he made up his mind he would "scoop"
Peter, his old enemy.
The representative of the _Leader_ hurried on. Peter caught sight of
Larry, and recognized him in spite of his oilskins. Peter wore a
rain-coat, which was wet through.
"Hold on, Larry!" he cried. "I'm on the _Scorcher_ again. What have
you got?"
It was the newspaper man's way of asking his brother-of-the-pencil
for such information as he possessed. But though, as a general
thing, when several reporters are on a general story, they
interchange common news, Larry was in no mind to share what he had
with Peter. His paper had gone to the trouble to send him down in
good season, a piece of forethought which the other journals'
editors had neglected. Therefor Larry felt that he was not violating
the common practice (though it is against the strict office rules)
if he ignored Peter.
"Haven't time!" he called back.
"Wait a minute!" cried the rival reporter. "I just came down on the
first train, and I walked about five miles to find the wreck. I'm
going to the telegraph office to send my account in for an extra.
We'll whack up on it."
"We'll do nothing of the sort!" exclaimed Larry. "I don't want
anything to do with you." He had never forgiven Peter for his part
in the kidnapping of Jimmie.
"Needn't get huffy about it," remarked Peter. "I want to be
friendly."
Larry thought it was hardly Peter's place to offer to be "friendly"
after the mean part he had played.
"I haven't time to stop now," said Larry. "I'm in a hurry. You'll
have to get along the best you can."
"So that's how you feel, eh?" asked the rival reporter. "Not very
white of you, Larry Dexter. I've only just got back my job on the
_Scorcher_ after they laid me off for getting beaten, and I've got
to make good. But never mind. The beach is free, and I've got as
good a right to the telegraph office as you have. I'd like to see
you beat me."
Larry himself did not just see how he would, but he made up his mind
to attempt it. Peter was now keeping pace with him. There was
nothing for it but to hurry on. Whoever reached the office first and
"filed his copy" would have the right to the wire. Larry resolved
that he would win in the race, even as he had won in the other, at
the big flood, but he knew there was time enough yet. If he started
to run Peter would run also, and the way was too long for a fast
sprint.
The two kept on, side by side, neither speaking. The only sound was
the patter of the rain, and the rustle and rattle of Larry's oilskin
suit.
They passed through the deserted summer resort. It was about a mile
now to the telegraph office. Larry recalled that Bailey had told him
there was a short cut by keeping to the railroad track, and he
turned into that highway, followed by Peter, who, it seemed, had
resolved not to lose sight of his rival.
It was now about nine o'clock, though his activity since early
morning made it seem much later to Larry. He knew he had a good
story safe in his pocket, and he was pretty sure Peter had only a
garbled account, for he could not have gotten the facts so quickly.
Nor did he, Larry was sure, have the passenger list, which was the
best part of the story.
On and on the two rivals trudged silently. They must be near the
office now, Larry thought, and he looked ahead through the rain.
They were in the midst of a little settlement of fishermen's
houses--a small village--but it was nearly deserted, as most of the
inhabitants had gone to the wreck. Larry saw a building on which was
a sign informing those who cared to know that it contained a store,
the post-office and a place whence telegrams might be sent and
received. Peter saw it at the same instant.
"Here's where I beat you!" he cried as he sprang forward on the
run.
Larry tried to follow, but his legs became entangled in the oilskin
coat and he fell. He was up again in an instant, only to see Peter
entering the office. Larry's heart seemed like lead. Had he worked
so hard only to be beaten at the last?
Something spurred him on. He stumbled into the office in time to
hear Peter saying:
"I want to hold a wire for a long despatch to the New York
_Scorcher_. I've got a big account of the wreck."
"Where's your copy?" asked the young man in charge of the clicking
instruments.
"I'll have it ready for you in a minute," replied Peter, sitting
down to a table, and beginning to dash off words and sentences as
fast as his pencil could fly.
"I can't hold any wire for you," said the operator. "If you have any
press stuff to file let me have it. That's the only way you can keep
a wire."
"I'll have it for you in a second," Peter replied as he looked
anxiously at the door.
"That will not answer. I must have copy in order to keep the wire
busy."
"Here it is!" cried Larry, as he entered at that moment and pulled
from his pocket his hastily written account of the wreck, including
the list of passengers. "I'll be obliged to you if you can get this
off to the New York _Leader_ as soon as possible."
"I was here first!" angrily cried Peter.
"But I have his copy first," the operator said. "It is the filing of
the despatch first that counts, not who gets here first. I'll get
this off right away for you," he added, turning to Larry.
And thus it was that Larry got his scoop, for his account took so
long to telegraph that, when the operator began on Peter's, the
_Leader_ had the story in the office, and was preparing to get out
an extra.