ON A BLIND TRAIL OF THE SEA
"Those guns were put aboard six months ago, when I was planning to run
the 'Panther' down to Guatemala on a jaguar-hunting trip," explained Mr.
Baldwin. "Afterwards, when the trip was abandoned, the guns were taken
ashore. I'll admit I didn't know the arms were now on board."
"We may catch up with those rascals again, sir," suggested Ted Dyer,
hopefully.
"I wish I had your enthusiasm, and your belief in the future, young
man," remarked Mr. Baldwin, with a shake of his head.
"Anyway, since the weapons have been found," interjected Halstead, "they
may as well be taken out of their cases and cleaned, and the ammunition
sorted over. We should have such things where we can get at them in a
moment, at need."
"Right enough," nodded the owner.
"I'll go down and have a look at the things," proposed the young
skipper. "Lead the way, Dyer."
Ted went below, jubilantly enough, pointing out the cases, which he had
dragged out from under other supplies. Then Dyer went to the engine room
for hammer, cold chisel and screwdriver, after which the cases were
opened.
"Ten splendid repeating rifles, the same number of dandy shot-guns, and
ammunition enough to keep these guns firing for a week," muttered
Halstead when half an hour's work had resulted in displaying all the
contents of the cases. "Oh, if we had only had these the other night, or
at any time when we were out of the great fog and in sight of the
'Victor'!"
Regrets were, however, utterly useless.
All of the weapons were taken on deck. Some were stacked in the wheel
house, others in Tom's cabin and some in the owner's suite. Boxes of
cartridges and shells were also placed with the guns.
"I shall hate these things every time I see them," muttered Joseph
Baldwin. "I should have remembered, and have had a search made. But it's
no use fussing now."
"Oh, if we only could meet up with those fellows, now!" sighed Tom.
"Humph! If hens would only lay eggs of solid gold," snorted Mr.
Baldwin, "there'd be no sense in a bank cashier running away with the
stuffing of the bank's vault! Captain Halstead, we won't pick that steam
yacht up again in this fog."
"Then, sir, we may do it when the fog lifts," predicted Halstead,
hopefully.
Baldwin shook his head.
"All we can do, young man, is to keep on in a general course toward San
Francisco, as we're doing. This fog will probably hang to us all the way
to our anchorage off Market Street. If the fog should lift before that,
there isn't one chance in a thousand that we'll find the 'Victor' in
sight."
"I'm on this cruise, sir," rejoined the young captain, "with the notion
that the cruise can't end until we've run alongside the 'Victor'
somewhere. It may be that we'll sight some other vessel that has seen
the steam yacht. In that way we may get the news that will send us
hustling down the coast to Mexico, or across the ocean to Japan."
Joseph Baldwin grinned wistfully.
"Well, one thing, Captain; we have enough gasoline to go 'most anywhere.
My friends thought I was almost crazy to have such big tanks put aboard
to hold gasoline. But I replied that, when we didn't need the extra
oil, it would serve as ballast. If we have to burn that oil we can fill
the tanks with salt water and still keep ballasted."
"In any clear weather we can use the sails a good deal, and save oil at
that, sir," suggested the young skipper.
However, they continued on through the fog the rest of that afternoon,
and through the night, without discovering a sign of any other craft.
The loneliness of that great ocean about them began to get somewhat on
the nerves of some of the passengers. Gaston Giddings, suffering
infernal tortures for want of the drug to which he had become such a
pitiful slave, kept to the cabin.
Through the long night the "Panther" kept plodding on her way, rolling a
good deal in the sea. Tom spent much of his time on the bridge with the
watch officer. So morning came around again, and it was Third Mate
Costigan's deck watch.
Tom, who had been below in his cabin for the last three hours, came on
deck again at about nine in the morning. Somehow, he could not sleep.
The sense of failure preyed upon his nerves.
For some minutes Captain Tom stood at the bridge rail, one hand at his
ear. He was trying to catch even the faintest sound of another foghorn
than the "Panther's."
At last he started.
"Did you hear that, Mr. Costigan?" he demanded.
"I heard nothing, sir."
"Then keep perfectly quiet, and listen hard."
Within two minutes both officers were sure they heard a fog-horn.
"But it's the fog-horn of a sailing vessel," muttered Tom,
disappointedly.
"Coming this way, too, sir," replied Mr. Costigan.
"The people on the 'Victor' wouldn't hesitate to use a sailing vessel's
signals in order to fool us," muttered Halstead.
"Shall I pass well to starboard of the sailing craft, sir?" asked the
third officer.
"No; get in her path. When we're near enough, signal that we want to
speak the other vessel," Halstead answered.
Within seven or eight minutes the "Panther" was signaling the other
craft by sound for the desired marine interview. The "all right" signal
came back. Then the two vessels were cautiously manoeuvred to meet each
other without collision.
At last a big bowsprit loomed up out of the white gloom, close at hand.
"Put your helm hard-a-starboard!" roared Mr. Costigan through the wheel
house speaking-tube. Then, after some further manoeuvring, during which
the "Panther's" propellers reversed, the two craft lay hazily in sight
of each other.
The stranger proved to be a long, low, white schooner yacht hailing from
San Diego as the home port, but now bound for Hawaii.
"Do you know the steam yacht 'Victor' when you see her?" Tom shouted
over the "Panther's" rail.
"Yes," came back the testy answer. "And sometimes we see too much of
her. We did this morning."
"You did?" Halstead demanded, excitedly. "Where?"
"Back on our course. She came along through the fog like a thief,
without signaling. If my first mate hadn't been in the bow at the
moment, and able to pass the order back like lightning, that infernal
steam yacht would have sunk us."
"How far away do you think the 'Victor' is now?" Tom demanded.
"At a good guess, say twelve miles ahead of you, on a pretty straight
course for the Golden Gate."
"Thank you, Captain!"
"You're welcome."
As the schooner yacht's sails filled, and she bore away on her course,
a dozen people on the "Panther's" deck let up a wild cheer.
"Fog or no fog, we'll catch up with the 'Victor' if we have luck,"
declared Captain Tom Halstead. Then his face took on a troubled look.
"I forgot," he muttered. "The captain of the 'Victor' will hear our fog
horn, and--oh, confound a fog-horn on a chase like this!"
"Perhaps this is where a lawyer can help you out," smiled Mr. Jephson.
"You're now a dozen miles behind the 'Victor.' Well, Captain, if you
tone down your fog-horn so that it can't be heard for more than half or
three quarters of a mile, it will still make noise enough to warn any
innocent craft out of your path. Can't you tone down the horn?"
"Yes," answered Tom, rather dubiously, "if it will be strictly
straightforward and legal."
"As a representative of the United States courts, I'll take all the
responsibility," Mr. Jephson pledged himself. "I know," he added, "that
I haven't, really, a legal right to authorize you to go forward without
signals. That right belongs to the Navy, and to revenue cutter
commanders. But I'll take the responsibility upon myself, Captain
Halstead. All innocent vessels proceed under regular signals, anyway,
and that does away with the risk of collision."
The young motor boat captain needed no further urging. He called Joe on
deck. Together the two chums worked over the fog-horn until the hail it
sent forth would not carry more than a half mile.
In the meantime, Third Officer Costigan, on the bridge, had been making
use of his arithmetic. Figuring that the "Victor" was twelve miles ahead
of the "Panther" and still following the same course at the same speed,
the third mate had to calculate the time that would elapse before the
motor yacht would be just two miles astern of its quarry.
At the same time Ab Perkins was briefly busy, at least. It fell to his
share to see that the power tender was all in trim for lowering over the
side. Provisions and water, a compass and a fog-horn had to be added to
the usual equipment of the boat. Firearms were stocked aboard, as well,
and a greater supply of lines than the tender usually carried.
Meanwhile, of course, the "Panther" was traveling at increased speed,
this speed being carefully regulated to fit in with the problems that
Third Officer Costigan was so carefully solving.
For the next two hours Captain Tom Halstead strolled nervously about,
Mr. Jephson, Mr. Baldwin, Mr. Ross and a few others were observed to be
similarly afflicted with restlessness.
Just before noon Tom Halstead climbed the stairs to the bridge,
consulting Mr. Costigan's figures carefully.
"Slow down the speed," Halstead ordered, after a few moments of
listening that brought to them no sound showing another vessel to be
near. "Mr. Perkins, stand by and lower the tender."
As the "Panther" slowed up there was a rush to the port rail, for the
tender was to carry a goodly crew. When the little power boat lay in the
water alongside, Captain Tom Halstead was the first to go over the side.
He was followed by Jed Prentiss, who was to act as engineer officer of
this expedition. Then came Mr. Jephson and his two deputy marshals. Next
followed Joe Dawson, who did _not_ go in the capacity of engineer.
Messrs. Baldwin and Ross next followed, then two of the "Panther's"
seamen, and, last of all, Ted Dyer. Quartermaster Bickson had been in
the power boat when it was lowered, thus making twelve altogether in the
party.
"Cast off," called Tom, sharply, while Joe, already at the steering
seat, threw the wheel over to port. "Mr. Perkins, you're in command of
the yacht."
"Any signals to arrange with us, Captain?" called the young first mate.
"No! I don't believe you'll see us again in a hurry," Tom replied, as
the power launch darted away, "unless we come back on board the
'Victor!'"
From the yacht's rail came a subdued cheer. Halstead waved his hand to
his first mate.
A few bucketfuls of water slopped over into the tender. The sea was
running high for such a small craft. Those in the launch, however,
thought of nothing but the goal ahead.