DICK TAKES THE RESCUE BOAT TRICK
It wasn't long before First Officer Ab Perkins also climbed the stairs
to the bridge.
"If this craft runs on the rocks, it won't be for want of officers at
their post," laughed Skipper Tom, gleefully.
"I couldn't keep away," confessed Ab. "It's the first time in my life
I've ever stood on a real bridge by right. Oh, but this is a different
thing altogether from the tiny bridge-deck of a fifty-foot boat!"
Third Officer Costigan paid no heed to the motor boat boys. Though
Costigan had never held higher rank than he now enjoyed, standing watch
on a bridge was no new sensation for him. The young Irishman thought,
mainly, of the time when he would have the "Panther" through the Gate
and well off the coast. Then he could turn in below.
Presently a fifth person joined the little squad on the bridge. It was
Joseph Baldwin.
"You've a clear night and an easy sea, Captain," smiled the owner. "It's
a fortunate sort of start for you."
"Yes, sir."
"When you're well clear of the Gate, Captain, look in on me down in the
main cabin, and I'll give you your sailing orders for the night."
"Yes, sir."
Halstead knew his own dignity on the bridge. He was on duty, and did not
attempt to engage the owner in any conversation other than that which
concerned his present duties. Mr. Baldwin went below just after the
"Panther's" prow was turned into the beginning of the Golden Gate, that
magnificent approach to San Francisco harbor. The Gate is some two miles
long, and nearly a mile wide, with an abundance of deep water for the
passage of the largest craft afloat.
"What speed, sir?" asked Dick Davis.
"Ten miles is fast enough in this channel, isn't it, Mr. Costigan?"
inquired the young captain.
"About as much as is best, sir."
Dick, at a sign from Halstead, communicated the order to the engine
room. Twelve minutes later the "Panther" was clearing the Gate, leaving
a track of foam behind her as Davis signaled for increased speed.
Joe, leaving his first assistant below at the motors, now joined the
bridge squad.
"If there's nothing more, Captain," suggested Dawson, "I'll turn in
below for the night."
Captain Halstead nodded. Soon afterwards he went below, to the main
cabin.
"I've come to report for orders, Mr. Baldwin," he announced.
"They're simple enough," replied the owner. "Clear the coast by some
twenty miles; then cruise south, at not too great speed--say, about
twelve miles an hour."
"Do these orders hold until changed, sir?"
"Yes, Captain."
Tom saluted, then turned as though to leave the cabin, but Mr. Baldwin
called him back.
"You're not needed on the bridge yet, Captain. Remain with us a little
while, if you feel like it. You can see that Dr. Gray is keeping his own
watch down here in the main cabin."
At that moment the physician, an elderly man, stepped out of a
stateroom, closing the door after him.
"There! My patient will sleep for some hours, I think. I'll take the
upper berth in his room to-night, so that I can hear him and attend to
him if he wakes. Ah, good evening, Captain. Or is it good morning? I
have been told of your fine work--on land, at that."
"Is Giddings going to be in anything like his right mind when he wakes?"
asked Mr. Baldwin.
"Oh, in a general way, I think he'll know what he's saying," replied the
physician. "But he won't be at all bright before thirty-six hours have
passed. Even then I can't guarantee him. Opium drives him to the verge
of mania."
When several of the others had engaged in conversation, and the doctor
had taken a seat near the young captain, Tom asked:
"Is opium smoking a very great evil in San Francisco, Doctor? That is,
do very many take to it?"
"Not a very large proportion of the white population, I am glad to
say," responded the physician. "Still, when the hop habit does get hold
of our white people it works fearful havoc with them. Opium and morphine
streak all the crime in San Francisco. These habits are the horrible
revenge that the Chinaman has taken upon the city for the persecution
the Chinaman once suffered at the hands of our hoodlums."
"Then opium and morphine are largely responsible for the crime and vice
in the big city we have just left?" asked Halstead.
"No; I won't say they're responsible," replied Dr. Gray. "But they color
the wickedness of San Francisco in their own way. There's a heap of
wickedness in every large city, but the crimes and vices here take on
aspects that are tremendously due to the use of opium and morphine by
the criminal classes. A very large percentage of our San Francisco
jailbirds use either opium or morphine. These drugs give them a lower
order of intelligence, and make them more cowardly, though often more
desperate when they find themselves driven into a corner. Captain
Halstead, be sure you never allow yourself to be tempted to use either
of those drugs."
"Thank you; I don't believe I shall," smiled the young skipper.
"Especially, after what I've seen to-night."
"Great as the curse of alcohol is," added Dr. Gray, "the bane of opium
is ten-fold greater. In two or three generations it would ruin any
race."
"Then why isn't the Chinese nation destroyed?" asked Halstead.
"Because, although we have imported these dread habits from China, only
a small proportion of the Chinese people use the drugs. Those who do are
the outcasts of China."
It was growing late, so the young skipper rose, inquiring whether the
owner had any further orders for him.
"None, thank you, Captain," replied Mr. Baldwin.
Tom thereupon took his leave, returning to deck. The "Panther" was now
miles westward of the coast.
"Ugh!" shivered young Halstead, as he stepped out on deck. Though it was
February, the air had been all but balmy in town. Out on the bay there
had been a little more chill in the air. But now, out on the wide
expanse of the ocean, there was a cold, damp wind blowing that seemed to
bite to the marrow after the bright warmth of the main cabin.
Tom promptly stepped into his own cabin, taking down his deck ulster and
donning it. Then he made his way to the bridge, where Dick Davis was
pacing from side to side.
"No; I don't want any ice cream, thank you," grinned Dick, as his
captain joined him. Davis, who wore a reefer, was beating his arms
against his sides as though to keep warm. "I've been wishing, Captain, I
could get below for my ulster."
"Go ahead," nodded Halstead. "I'll walk the bridge until you return."
Dick needed no urging, but made speed for his stateroom below. When he
came back he looked more contented.
"Queer climate, this," he remarked.
"Yes," agreed the young skipper. "I'm told the thermometer never shows a
very low marking, but that the night air chills one down to the marrow
of his bones."
For five minutes more young Halstead remained on the bridge, then went
below, after having left the customary instructions to call him to the
bridge in case he was needed.
"Well, it's great to walk the bridge of as fine a craft as puts out of
San Francisco," Dick told himself, later on in the night. "But at night
it's mighty lonesome. I almost wish I could call one of the deckhands up
here to talk to."
Of the seven seamen of the crew, one was assigned to work under the
first officer's orders during the daytime. The remaining six were
divided between the two watches. Of the three now at Davis's orders, one
was in the pilot house, for the purpose of relieving the quartermaster
whenever required. A second seaman, at night, stood out far forward as
bow-watch. The third made regular trips of inspection around the yacht,
unless ordered to some other duty.
Jed Prentiss, sitting all alone down in the motor room, made the sixth
of those who were now awake on board the "Panther." At starboard and
port the colored running lights gleamed; a third light, white, twinkled
from the foremast-head. On the bridge stood a powerful searchlight whose
rays could be turned on at will.
Thus manned, the "Panther" swept on steadily over the ocean, now headed
south. The solitary, boyish figure pacing the bridge, represented in the
night the brains and the present master-hand of this yacht, which,
equipped with a single three-inch cannon at the bow, could have outrun
or destroyed all the navies, combined, of ancient times.
Through the night the sea roughened a good deal. The wind blew more
freshly, coming down off the land from the northeast. Still, the yacht
was in no labor in the sea, and the sky remained bright overhead. So the
second officer did not feel it necessary to disturb the rest of the
captain.
At a quarter of eight in the morning, however, with the sun hidden
behind a haze, Dick pressed the button that sounded the electric
vibrating bell over Tom Halstead's berth. Then Davis picked up the
mouthpiece of the speaking tube to the pilot house.
"Call the port watch," directed Dick, when the seaman had answered.
Captain Tom came up on the bridge, pulling on his ulster as he came. He
greeted Dick, then stood looking about at the sky.
"It has freshened up a good deal in the night," remarked the young
skipper.
"Yes; I thought, sir, you'd want to see the weather while the watch was
changing."
Third Officer Costigan was not long in appearing, greeting his two
superior officers as he reached the bridge.
"Does this weather spell trouble coming on this coast, Mr. Costigan?"
questioned Halstead.
"It'll most likely turn rougher, sir. Sometimes we get a gale out of the
northeast in February, though not as often as you do on the Atlantic.
That's all I can say, sir. How's the glass? The barometer, you see, sir,
is behaving like a gentleman at present."
As Dick left the bridge at the changing of the watch, Tom followed him.
Halstead went to his own cabin, where he ordered his breakfast served.
This meal eaten, the young skipper, who still felt the fatigue of late
hours the night before, threw himself down on a divan. Though he had not
intended to sleep, in less than five minutes Tom Halstead had traveled
all the way to the land of Nod.
Nor did the increased rolling and pitching of the "Panther" disturb him;
if anything, it lulled the young skipper into sounder slumber.
By ten o'clock the gale was going more than forty miles an hour. At
eleven Ab Perkins turned the knob of the door, stepping inside. As Ab
stood there looking at the occupant of the divan, moisture dripped from
the ulster of the first officer.
"I guess we need you on deck, sir," roared Ab, shaking the young
captain's shoulder. In a twinkling, Halstead was awake. In another
instant he was on his feet.
"Weather is booming a bit, eh?" cried Captain Tom, eagerly.
"Nothing near as much, sir, as this craft can stand with comfort," Ab
responded. "But we're coming up with a schooner under bare poles and
wallowing badly. Foretop-mast blown away, too, and some of the bowsprit
missing."
"Then you did right to call me," rejoined Halstead, pulling on his shoes
swiftly, and standing up to don his cap and reefer. "I'll go on the
bridge at once."
Baldwin and three of the passengers were on deck as Captain Tom
appeared. Halstead nodded their way, then hurriedly climbed the bridge
stairs. Now, he turned to take a look at the schooner. She lay dead
ahead, for Costigan had ordered the "Panther's" course altered so as to
speak the craft in distress. She was still about a mile distant, but for
a keen-eyed sailor it needed no glass to make out the fact that the
three-master was in utter distress.
"Hard luck, that, in only a forty-mile blow," muttered Tom.
"Wind-gauge shows forty-eight, sir," replied Mr. Costigan.
"Anyway, someone must have been dozing on that schooner, to let her
canvas be blown away in such a wind," contended the young skipper.
Then Tom picked up the marine glasses, for a good look at the craft.
"Why, confound it, she has nothing left but a dinghy at the stern
davits," muttered Captain Halstead. "I'm afraid, Mr. Costigan, we've got
to get out our own boat."
"I'm afraid so, sir."
"Then tumble out the starboard watch."
The order was given through the pilot house speaking tube. The sailor
down there with the quartermaster went below at lively speed, routing
out the sleeping watch.
By the time they were on deck Tom Halstead was manoeuvring the motor
yacht around to leeward of the wreck.
"Schooner, ahoy!" he bellowed through a megaphone, from the bridge end.
"Yacht ahoy!" came back the faint answer on the breeze. "This is the
schooner 'Alert,' Seattle; Jordrey, master."
"What help do you want, 'Alert'?"
"We're ready to abandon our vessel. Send us a boat, if you can."
"Boat it is, then, Captain," Tom bawled back, lustily. "Stand by to help
our boat make fast alongside your lee quarter!"
Then, turning, glancing down at the deck, Tom called:
"Mr. Davis, the rescue boat is the second officer's trick!"
"Glad of it, sir," retorted Dick, his eyes glistening.
"Lower the port life-boat. Take four men at the oars and one for the
bow. You'll have to row. The power tender would be worthless in this
sea. Mr. Perkins will take the bridge. Mr. Costigan and the
quartermasters will help you off, Mr. Davis."
Officers and men all moved with perfect discipline. With a merry roar
they lowered the life-boat. A boarding gangway was lowered at the side,
and down this the crew of the life-boat scrambled. Dick Davis took his
place at the tiller.
"Cast off," he commanded. "Shove off. Let fall oars. Now, then--at it,
hearties!"
From owner and passengers a cheer went up as the boat put off in such
famous style. In another instant, however, the boat tossed like a cork
on a high, rolling wave. Then it went down in the hollow between two
billows. It was up in sight, an instant later. The men at the oars were
doing their work with a will. Over the water struggled the life-boat,
and then turned to come up under the lee quarter of the schooner.
Suddenly Captain Tom Halstead clutched desperately at the bridge rail,
his face going deathly white.
"Merciful heaven!" he quivered, staring hard. For, near the crest of a
wave, the life-boat heeled. Another big wave caught her.
Dick Davis and the boat's crew had been hurled from the overturning
boat!