THE CALL FROM OUT OF THE FOG
Out of the dense fog to port came a chorus of derisive yells, then a
prolonged blast of the "Victor's" fog-horn.
"That's as much as saying it's the last time we'll hear their toot,"
burst, savagely, from Mr. Baldwin.
"Maybe it _is_ the last time," admitted Tom.
Mr. Jephson and the owner began to talk excitedly.
"Sh!" warned the young skipper. "We don't want a tone aboard louder
than a whisper. If we can keep this interval, or pretty near it, we can
follow the steam yacht by the sound of her machinery. Mr. Davis, keep
your ears strained for it, and shape our course accordingly."
In the hush that followed the keen-eared listeners could hear the now
invisible "Victor" slowing down her speed. Captain Tom, the engine room
speaking tube at his mouth, called down the orders softly for a similar
slowing of speed. The "Panther" fell back close to the "Victor."
"Captain, they're likely to stop altogether, soon," whispered Mr.
Jephson. "Then we won't hear a sound to guide us."
"We'd do the same," murmured Halstead. "Then the yachts would be likely
to drift together and bump. No; I hardly believe the steam yacht's
captain will try that trick. If he does, we must match it."
The two craft engaged in this marine game of blind man's buff were now
going forward along their respective courses at not more than eight
miles an hour. Greater speed was not advisable, for they were in the
possible track of vessels plying between San Francisco and Hawaii, New
Zealand or Australia.
For the next ten minutes there was no sound from the "Victor's"
fog-horn. To run without this precaution was all but tantamount to
piracy in itself. Skipper Tom and Second Officer Davis, however, managed
to keep within sound of the steam craft's machinery. So, presently, the
"Victor's" steam fog-horn again sounded on the air.
Breakfast was served late, that morning, on board the motor yacht. All
hands were too much interested in the difficult chase to think of eating
before Nature made her demands clamoring.
At eight o'clock, when Third Officer Costigan again came up on the
bridge to take his watch trick, Dick Davis declared he had no interest
in sleep.
"You'd better go below," advised Tom. "This search through the fog may
be a long one. We'll want all hands to be fresh and bright. Get four or
five hours' sleep, anyway. I shall be on the bridge most of the time
until you're called again."
So Dick went below and turned in, though almost with a grumble.
For the next three hours Halstead was almost constantly on the bridge.
The blind pursuit kept up along the same lines. The steam yacht's
machinery still sent its dull clatter across the waters. The
quartermaster of the "Panther," with the help of the mate's orders,
still steered by that sound.
"It'd be fierce to have a big, noisy liner rumble up close to us now,
making noise enough to drown out the sound of our enemy," grumbled
Captain Tom to the owner.
Mr. Jephson, standing close by, heard, and his eyes snapped.
"I hadn't thought of that," he growled. "Since that would be the
toughest sort of luck, that's what is almost sure to happen."
"Don't complain of your luck," advised the young skipper, gravely.
"We've been able to keep right along with the steam craft for some hours
now. If we can do so for a few hours more, we're highly likely to run
out of this fog and be under a clear sky again. So far, Mr. Jephson, our
luck has been wondrously kind to us."
Halstead remained on deck until nearly two o'clock. Then he passed word
for Ab Perkins. To that young first officer, in the presence of Baldwin,
Ross and Jephson, he said:
"Mr. Perkins, my eyes are getting heavy, and I expect to be on deck most
of the night. I'm going to turn in, now, for an hour or two. Call me,
anyway, at the changing of the watches. You know the general orders, and
I look to you not to let the 'Victor' slip away from us."
"If I do let her slip," affirmed Ab, "I'll eat the starboard
life-boat."
"Mr. Perkins used to be the most famous 'hoodoo' at the mouth of the
Kennebec," Tom laughed, softly, as he turned to Mr. Baldwin. "His luck
changed, however, the day he went into the motor boating business. He's
about the luckiest young navigator afloat these days."
Nor did Ab, left in temporary full command, intend to lose his later
laurels. He soon left the bridge, however, feeling that he could listen
more effectively from the port rail forward. Occasionally he turned to
signal, silently, to Third Officer Costigan, who still kept to the
bridge.
Part of the time the "Victor" sounded its fog-horn with pauses longer
than the rules of the sea permitted in so deep a fog. It looked as
though those aboard the steam yacht were willing to leave it to the
"Panther" to warn away other craft from them both. However, thus far in
the day, no other vessel had sounded through the fog. Apparently, these
two craft had all of this part of the sea to themselves.
In the silence and under the white pall even the interest of the chase
could not prevent the time from passing with deadly monotony for Ab
Perkins. Quite plainly it impressed also the others that way, for the
cabin passengers, two or three at a time, disappeared below. Messrs.
Baldwin and Ross remained on deck more than any of the cabin party,
though even they went inside, restlessly, every now and then.
At last the deck was bare, save for Ab Perkins and the bow watch. In the
pilot house stood the quartermaster and his seaman helper. On the bridge
Mr. Costigan paced back and forth, glad that the fog was not too thick
for him to make out the first officer forward.
One of Ab's reasons for being well up forward was that he might more
readily hear the sound of fog-horn or of bell from any other vessel
hidden away in this white gloom.
It was a long while before he heard anything, but at last it came:
"Help! Don't run me down!"
The voice came from low down upon the water, somewhat ahead and barely
to port.
Quick as a flash the bow watch turned to see if the first officer and
the bridge watch had heard. Both Perkins and Costigan had sprung to see
what might come to them out of the fog.
"Careful!" warned Ab, in a steady voice. "Take the sound of my voice for
your guide. I'm at the port rail, moving toward you."
Suddenly, out of the fog, there came into view, near at hand, a ship's
yawl. It contained a single man, dark, rather tall and about thirty
years of age. He was dressed carelessly, yet had much the air of a
gentleman. His clothing seemed to be soaked with moisture, as though he
had been long exposed to the elements. With his back to the bow of the
yawl, the man turned to glance over his shoulder as he handled a pair of
oars.
"Don't run me down!" shouted the stranger. "Stop and take me aboard in
heaven's name."
Ab Perkins had already swiftly caught up a coil of rope, which he deftly
poised for a clean throw.
"We stop for nothing--mark that!" called First Officer Perkins, firmly.
"Catch this rope, or we've got to leave you behind!"
The yawl was drifting by, and barely thirty feet from the motor yacht's
hull, when Ab made the throw. He was a master at such feats. The coil
unspread as it went whirling through the air, and a length lay across
the yawl.
"Get it! Grab it!" panted sympathetic Ab.
The stranger just managed the feat, leaping up and holding on as though
for dear life, while the yawl, checked in its headway, was swung around.
Desperately the stranger bent down, taking a hitch with the rope. The
bow watch had sprung to help Ab make fast the inside end of the line.
"There you've got it," called Ab, cheeringly. As the "Panther" was going
but eight miles an hour the stranger was able, without risk, to haul
the small boat in alongside.
"Can you climb?" Ab called down, in a low voice.
"I--I think so."
"Only a few feet needed, then we can reach your arm-pits," Ab called,
encouragingly.
It was not long ere young Perkins and the bow watch were able to help
the stranger aboard.
The young first officer's first thought, on seeing the yawl sweep into
view, was that a trick had been attempted by the enemy, for the "Victor"
had recently slipped ahead. But Ab's first glimpse at the stern of the
yawl showed the name, painted in goodly black letters, "S. S. Dolbear."
In the bottom of the yawl lay two life preservers bearing the same name.
"How on earth do you come to be away out here at sea, in a small boat?"
demanded Ab of the stranger.
"I was a freight clerk aboard the liner 'Dolbear,' bound from Auckland,
New Zealand, to San Francisco," replied the rescued one.
"What happened to the 'Dolbear'?"
"Foundered, five days ago. Life boats crowded, so that the last three of
us had to take to the yawl. We tried to keep up with the other boats,
but fell behind the first night. Next morning we were alone on the
ocean. After two days one man in our party became crazed and jumped over
into the sea. Last night the other man with me did the same. Oh, it was
a gruesome experience, I assure you."
"It must have been," returned Ab Perkins, sympathetically.
"Sir, that yawl is bumping alongside," broke in the bow watch.
"Cut her loose, then, and let her drift," ordered Ab. "We can't be
encumbered with any useless lumber. Then return to your watch. Mr.
Costigan, warn the engine room to increase our speed as much as you find
necessary. We can't let the 'Victor' go on getting ahead of us. Run
right up parallel again."
"Yes, sir," from the third officer.
"You're hungry, I suppose," suggested Ab, looking at the stranger. "I'll
pass word for our second stew----"
"I guess I shall be hungry when I get it fully through my head that I'm
safe," laughed the rescued one. "Just at present I'd rather go below and
warm myself."
Ab blew his mate's whistle for the third seaman of the watch.
"My man," he directed, "take this man down to the motor room. Tell Mr.
Randolph it will be all right for Mr.----"
"Cragthorpe is my name," supplied the stranger.
"Tell Mr. Randolph it will be all right for Mr. Cragthorpe to dry
himself off in the engine room," continued First Officer Perkins. "When
you get hungry, come up on deck. Mr. Costigan will see that you're fed
if I'm not here."
The rescued one, after offering profuse thanks, was led below by the
seaman guide.
"Mr. Costigan, what do you know about the 'Dolbear'?" called up Ab,
softly.
"She belongs to the New Zealand line, and is due in 'Frisco about this
present time," replied the third officer from the bridge.
"Then it's all right, as far as Cragthorpe goes?"
"I think so, sir."
"All I wanted," Ab finished, "was to be easy in my mind that the
stranger didn't come from the 'Victor.' Don't let us get at all astern
again, Mr. Costigan."
"I won't, sir."
In the meantime Jeff Randolph, sitting out through a long and lonely
watch in the engine room, was not sorry to see company coming his way.
For some time they chatted together. Cragthorpe seemed greatly
interested in finding such young officers aboard the motor yacht. He
asked many questions about the Motor Boat Club.
At last Jeff Randolph rose, excusing himself and stepping just outside
the engine room door, though lingering near enough to hear a signal from
the bridge, if one came. The young assistant engineer wanted to stretch
his legs after sitting a long time by the motors. No sooner was the
motor boat boy out of sight than the stranger rose swiftly. Snatching up
a wrench, he prowled about the motors as though looking for something.
At last he evidently discovered what he wanted. Instantly he laid the
wrench on a bolt-head.