THE DERELICT
“They don’t seem to be following us now,” observed Ned, after they had
watched the tug continuing on her course.
“No, it looks as if they were taking another tack,” said Maurice De
Vere. “I wonder if he can have private information as to the location
of the brig? If he has he may get ahead of me and discover her first.”
“I don’t believe he has,” was Jerry’s opinion. “I think he is on a
blind search, just as we are.”
“I hope so. It means a great deal to me to find that derelict.”
“What had we better do?” asked Bob. “Can’t we get ahead of him in some
way?”
“I know of no other way than to cruise about until we find the brig,”
replied Mr. De Vere. “It is only a chance, but luck may favor us first.
That is all we can hope for.”
All that day they cruised fruitlessly about, and the next day was
equally barren of result.
“I’m afraid you’ll think we’re not very good derelict hunters,”
remarked Jerry on the morning of the third day after the storm, when
they took an observation, and saw nothing but a vast extent of water.
The weather was calm, the sun shone brightly and the _Ripper_ was
making good time.
“No,” was the answer. “It isn’t your fault. This was in the nature of
an experiment, and I do not expect immediate results. I figured on
being three weeks on this search, and we have only spent about a third
of that time. We are yet on the safe side, although I admit it is
rather disappointing.”
After breakfast they resumed their observations. It was nearly eight
bells when Ned, who had been stationed in the bow with the powerful
glasses, cried out:
“I see something.”
“Where?” asked Mr. De Vere eagerly.
“Off the left.”
Mr. De Vere took the glasses and peered long and anxiously through them
at a small speck which Ned pointed out as it rose and fell on the crest
of the billows.
“Is it the derelict?” asked Jerry, appearing in the companionway.
“I don’t know,” answered Ned. “It looks like some sort of a ship, but
I’m afraid to be positive, because we’ve had so many false alarms.”
“It’s some sort of a ship,” remarked Mr. De Vere suddenly as he passed
the glasses to Jerry. “I make it out to be a brig, and, from the way it
is jibing about, it seems to be under no control. See what you think.”
Jerry took a careful look.
“It’s a brig, sure enough,” he declared, “and I can’t see any sign of
life on her.”
“Put us over that way,” requested Mr. De Vere, of Ned, who was steering
and running the engine. “When we get a little nearer I may be able to
make out the name.”
There were anxious hearts beating in the breasts of those aboard the
_Ripper. _ Could it be possible that the ship they saw was the derelict
for which they had been searching? They all hoped so.
Ned speeded the motor up to the highest notch and the boat fairly flew
through the calm sea. Near and nearer it came to the ship, which could
now plainly be made out. There was not a sail set, and this was
peculiar in itself. The brig idly rose and fell on the long, heaving
swells.
“It’s my ship!” suddenly cried Mr. De Vere, after a lengthy observation
through the binoculars. “I can make out her name. It’s the _Rockhaven!
_ Hurrah, boys! We have found her at last!”
“And Blowitz and his tug are nowhere in sight!” cried Ned. “We have
beaten him!”
“Indeed we have,” went on Mr. De Vere. “Now, Ned, see how soon you can
put us alongside.”
“It will not take long,” declared the young engineer. “It’s only a few
miles.”
The _Ripper_ proved worthy of her name, for she fairly “ripped” through
the waves, and, in a short time, was so close to the derelict that they
had to slow up.
“Put us up under the port quarter,” advised Mr. De Vere. “Luckily there
is not much of a swell on, and we can easily get aboard as she sets low
in the water. She must be leaking.”
With skillful hand Ned brought the motor boat alongside. The anchor
chains were hanging low from the hawse holes and as they approached
Jerry prepared to catch hold and swing himself up. He had reached out
his hand, and was just going to grasp the links, when, from the deck of
the deserted brig there came savage growls and barks. Jerry jumped back
in alarm and Ned, who had jammed a boat hook in the side of the brig,
to hold the _Ripper_ steady, looked up.
“It’s dogs!” he cried. “Two of ’em!”
As he spoke two savage looking creatures thrust their heads up over the
low rail. They were large dogs, of the wolf-hound variety; great shaggy
creatures, and they growled in a menacing manner.
“They must have left the dogs aboard when they so strangely deserted
the ship,” said Mr. De Vere. “I suppose they’re glad to see us. They
must be lonesome. Try again, Jerry. I would, if I had the use of my two
arms.”
Once more Jerry prepared to ascend by means of the chains, but the dogs
almost leaped over the rail at him, showing their teeth, while the hair
on as much of their backs as could be seen stood up in ridges. Foam
dripped from their jaws.
“Look out!” cried Bob. “Those dogs are mad! Be careful!”
Savage growls and barks from the angry beasts emphasized his words.
There was no doubt of it. The dogs were mad from fear and hunger. They
disputed the advance of the voyagers, and would not let them aboard.
“Try on the other side,” suggested Mr. De Vere.
The boat was worked around to the other side of the bow, but the dogs
followed, and stood on guard there.
“Maybe we can get up at the stern,” said Jerry. “Perhaps the dogs can’t
make their way aft.”
But it was the same there. The maddened animals were ready to fly at
the throats of any one who should attempt to board the derelict.
“What’s to be done?” asked Ned. “We didn’t count on this. Those are
fierce dogs.”
“Indeed they are,” replied Mr. De Vere. “It would not be safe to risk
getting too close to them.”
“But what can we do?” asked Jerry. “If we wait here too long, Blowitz
may appear.”
“We’ve got to do something,” said the boy’s employer. “The only thing I
can see to do is to shoot the dogs. I’ll get my rifle,” and he went
into the cabin, where he had left his weapon, one of several he had
brought aboard.