THE RACE FOR THE "KENILWORTH"
Chief Engineer Bill McKnight hoisted himself up the iron ladder that
led from the fire-room of the _Resolute_ and tottered on deck gasping
for breath. He was begrimed from head to foot, the sweat had furrowed
little streaks in the mask of soot and grease which covered his ample
countenance, and his eyes were red with weariness and want of sleep. He
had shoved the tug back to Key West at her top speed, and now he was
toiling night and day to make her ready for whatever summons might come
for a tussle on the Reef. Captain Wetherly found him slumped against
the deck-house with his head in his hands and exhorted him cheerily:
"Don't give up the ship, Bill. It is a great repair job that you've
done, and the worst is over. The new tubes are most all in, aren't
they?"
"The boilers will be as good as new," grunted McKnight, "but how about
my bronchial tubes, Captain? I can't plug them up and make steam same
as I plugged the boilers and fetched you back from Santiago. I'm so
full of cinders inside that I rattle when I walk. But give me another
week and the boat will be fit to hitch a hawser to this benighted
island of Key West and tow it out to sea. Anything new ashore?"
Captain Jim sat down beside the engineer and made sure that they could
not be overheard as he began:
"Dan has been watching Jerry Pringle's fleet of wrecking vessels for
me. Those two schooners he bought in the Gulf have come into port, and
it is mighty little sponging he intends to do with them at present,
Bill. They look fast and they can stow lots of cargo. And Pringle has
been overhauling his other schooners and has chartered three more in
Key West. He says he intends to send them out to join the mackerel
fleet."
"Anything doing in the tow-boat line?" asked McKnight with a new gleam
of interest in his damaged eyes. "If Pringle aims to tackle a certain
job that may be reported from the Reef pretty soon, he will have to
make a bluff at pulling the steamer off, won't he? There might be a
small fortune in salvage, besides looting the cargo out of her."
"He is dickering for some kind of a time charter on the _Henry
Foster_," snapped Captain Jim. "She couldn't pull a feather-bed off the
Reef without breaking down. And I understand he has been cabling up the
Gulf about another tug or two."
"Well, we can get all the tow-boats we need and good ones, can't we?"
beamed McKnight. "Maybe we can't handle most any kind of a wrecking job
ourselves! And there won't be any bluffs about it when _we_ take hold."
"I'm certainly sorry for Dan, poor boy," said Captain Jim with a sigh.
"He feels as if he were spying on Bart's father. And to make it worse,
Bart is going to sail with the old man for a while and the lad will
be mixed up in this nasty mess as sure as fate, and he will be on the
wrong side of it. Here comes our Dan now. Drop the subject, Bill. It
only makes the youngster more unhappy."
Dan Frazier had passed some restless nights since his return to Key
West, but his mind was too sunny and youthful to believe that things
were ever as bad as they might be. He found comfort in the hope that
Captain Wetherly would spoil the plot to lose the _Kenilworth_. He had
implicit confidence in his uncle's ability to win against any odds with
the stanch _Resolute_, and now that a fair and open battle against
Jerry Pringle was assured, Dan found himself eager for the fray. Barton
had told him that morning:
"Father and mother are talking of sending me North to school, but I'm
going to rough it at sea with father for a month or so. He said he
tried to get you to work for him. I knew you wouldn't leave Captain
Jim, but maybe we might have been lucky enough to work on a wreck
together."
"You can't tell, Bart. Perhaps we shall, but we may be working against
each other. I'll back Captain Jim Wetherly to be first man aboard the
next vessel that goes on the Reef."
"Captain Jim is a good man," declared Bart, "but it will be a cold day
when he lays alongside a wreck ahead of that daddy of mine."
The boys were busy with their unbeaten sloop _Sombrero_, and one day
slid into another while Dan employed much of his spare time in helping
his mother about the house and in painting the chicken-house, the
fences, and porch with great pride in the spick-and-span results.
Mrs. Frazier still professed to take no stock in the plot hatched by
"Barton's father and Mary Pringle's husband," but she was nervous and
absent-minded at times, and there was even more affection than usual in
her manner toward Bart.
Dan tacked a calendar at the head of his bed and crossed off the days
one by one, saying to himself when he awoke and looked at it:
"Twenty days out from London, as Uncle Jim figured it, and the
_Kenilworth_ is one day nearer the Reef."
Twenty-two days had been counted when Captain Jim called at the cottage
and told Dan to go aboard the _Resolute_ and stay there until further
orders. When the deck-hand reported for duty, he found all hands of
the crew either at work on board or within call on the wharf. Bill
McKnight had steam in his boilers and, although the fires were banked,
he had just finished stowing below a generous supply of resinous pine
wood, oil-soaked cotton waste, and a barrel of turpentine for use as
emergency fuel.
"I lost thirty-five pounds of weight in three weeks," snorted the
engineer, "but I mended the old hooker to stay mended. Ho, ho, there
goes the _Henry Foster_ to sea, Captain. Wonder if there's anything
doing so soon? Her engines sound like a mowing-machine trying to cut a
path through a brick-yard."
"Don't worry about her," muttered Captain Jim. "Pringle isn't aboard
her. We won't leave here until he gets uneasy. He is a good deal better
posted than I am about his infernal program and we----"
Captain Jim stopped short, for Barton Pringle unexpectedly appeared on
deck and announced to Dan:
"I'm going up the Hawk Channel with father at daylight to look for one
of our sponging vessels that's reported ashore near Bahia Honda Key.
Thought I'd say good-by."
Dan could not help glancing at Captain Jim as he replied with a quiver
of excitement in his voice:
"We may be running up the outside channel before you get back, Bart.
Perhaps we shall sight you. Hope you have a good trip."
Barton was in a hurry and jumped ashore with a wave of his hand to the
chief engineer. When he was out of ear-shot Dan observed with a long
face:
"I would give six months' wages if I could make Bart stay home. Do you
suppose his father is really going to sea at daylight, or is he just
using Bart to fool us?"
"I haven't been walking in my sleep," dryly responded Captain Jim.
"There's a hundred and fifty miles of the Reef between here and Miami
and I don't intend to follow any decoy ducks and fetch up at the wrong
end of it. I figure on getting a report of any disaster as soon as the
next man."
The next day passed without tidings. Jeremiah Pringle had vanished from
his haunts in Key West, and four of his schooners were not to be found
at their moorings. Another day dragged by, Bill McKnight was stewing
with impatience and Dan Frazier was losing his appetite while Captain
Jim Wetherly remained cheerful and unruffled.
He was like another man, however, when a message came to him at noon on
the fourth day of waiting. It was from the cable office and he had no
more than glanced at it before he darted on deck, ordered the mate to
get the crew aboard, shouted down a speaking-tube to Bill McKnight, and
took his station at the wheel. His keen-witted, masterful energy seemed
to thrill the _Resolute_ with life and action. Black smoke gushed from
her funnel as her stokers toiled in front of the furnace doors. The
engines were turning over when the last deck-hand leaped aboard, and as
the dripping hawsers were hauled in, the tug was moving out into the
stream.
Key West island was over her stern before Dan found time to run up to
the wheel-house. Captain Jim slipped a crumpled bit of paper into his
fist and motioned for him to keep it to himself. It was from the marine
observer at Jupiter Inlet, a hundred miles to the northward of the
Florida Reef:
"_Steamer Kenilworth southbound passed seven this morning. Signalled
steering gear disabled by heavy weather but able to proceed._"
Dan's faith in human nature, as it had to do with the master of the
_Kenilworth_, had been so severely shocked that he wondered whether
the report of her mishap could be true. He was not shrewd enough to
perceive, however, what Captain Jim whispered as he went below to see
how things were moving in the engine-room.
"Crippled steering gear, bosh. Her skipper has to fake up some excuse
for striking the Reef."
Dan could scarcely believe that the curtain had really risen on this
seafaring melodrama in which he was to be an actor. A stately ship was
moving blindly toward an ambush which might be the death of her. And
racing to find and befriend her was this lone tug whose throbbing heart
of steel shook her stout hull from bow to stern as she tore through
the long head-seas on the edge of the Gulf Stream. The afternoon was
already waning and night would overtake the _Resolute_ before she could
reach the upper stretches of the Reef. Captain Wetherly felt certain
that the _Kenilworth_ would not be rammed on the coral ledges in broad
daylight, and he foresaw a desperate game of hide-and-seek between
darkness and dawn. But he held to the doctrine that with anything like
even chances an honest man will win against a rascal in the game of
life, afloat or ashore.
The north-east wind was steadily freshening and the sky had become gray
with drifting clouds. As dusk crept over the uneasy sea a mist-like
rain began to drizzle. The master of the _Kenilworth_ might reasonably
lose his bearings if the night grew much thicker. Bill McKnight emerged
from his sultry cavern long enough to grumble to Dan:
"What's to hinder our running past that steamer before morning, I want
to know, hey, boy?"
"You wouldn't worry if you could watch Captain Jim hug the Reef,"
assured Dan. "It's like walking a tight-rope. I thought we were going
to climb right up into the American Shoal light-house."
"Well, this old tug is doing her fifteen knots, Dan, which is faster
than she ever flew before," chuckled the chief engineer, "and if we
touch bottom, you'll know it all right. Look up yonder at my fireworks."
Dan stared at a banner of solid flame that streamed from the funnel
which glowed red hot for a dozen feet above the deck. With a cry of
alarm he ran to the upper deck-houses which were built just fore and
aft of the funnel and found the wood-work charred and smoking. He
shouted down to McKnight who replied with a laugh:
"It isn't my affair if your superstructure burns up. My orders are to
make steam. Better mention it to the skipper."
Dan rushed to the wheel-house but Captain Jim received the news
as if it were the merest trifle. He was sweeping the sea with his
night-glasses and exhorting the mate at the wheel to "hold her as she
is and keep your nerve." To Dan he replied airily:
"Caught afire, has she? Good for Bill McKnight. He's delivering the
goods. Get some men with buckets and put the fire out. I've no steam to
waste in starting the pumps and putting the hose on it."
The deck force was taking turns at shovelling coal to reinforce the
stifled stokers, and those off watch followed Dan with cheers. They
knew that a race was on, and it lightened their toil to know that the
_Resolute_ was pounding toward her goal, wherever it was, with every
ounce of power in her. Captain Jim joined the fire-fighters long enough
to yell to them:
"Look out for rockets ahead. The first man to sight distress signals
from the Reef gets ten dollars and a new hat."
A brawny negro stoker wiped the sweat from his eyes as he bobbed on
deck and panted:
"When Cap'n Jim smell a wreck she's sure gwine be where he say. If he
wants to find 'stress signals he better look amongst us poor niggers in
the fire-room."
Midnight came and no one thought of sleep. The excitement had spread
even to the cook and the galley boy who thought they saw rockets every
time a match was lit up in the bows. Dan gazed out into the starless
night and listened to the clamor of the parting seas alongside with
frequent thoughts of Barton Pringle who was somewhere out here, proud
of his father's seamanship and daring, loyal to his interests,
trusting him as Dan trusted his Uncle Jim. Now like pawns on a chess
board, the two boys were to play their parts on the opposing sides of a
conflict which would be fought to the bitter end. Dan was aroused by a
hoarse shout from the bridge of the _Resolute_:
"Red rocket two points off the port bow."
Dan wheeled and looked forward while his breath seemed to choke him. A
second rocket soared skyward, like a crimson thread hung against the
curtain of night.
"Hold her steady as she is," shouted Captain Jim from his post on the
bridge. "The weather has cleared a bit and that signal was a long way
off."
There was an exultant ring to his strong voice as if he were glad to
have the climax in sight. He sent for Dan and told him to stay on the
bridge and look for answering signals.
"It's the _Kenilworth_, a thousand to one," said the captain of the
_Resolute_. "And if Jerry Pringle's schemes haven't missed fire, his
tug or one of his schooners will just happen to be within signalling
distance. Ah, by Judas, there goes his answer, a rocket way out to
seaward. Pringle was afraid to hug the Reef on a thick night. He missed
the _Kenilworth_ when she passed inside of him. It may possibly be a
merchantman that has seen the _Kenilworth's_ signals, but we take no
chances."
Captain Wetherly shouted the tidings down the tube to the engine-room
force, and the hard-driven tug tore her way through the heavy seas
in the last gallant burst of the home-stretch. Back through the
speaking-tube bellowed the voice of the chief engineer:
"I've just put the clamp on the safety-valve, Captain. She's carrying
thirty pounds more steam than the law allows, and if she cracks she'll
crack wide open. Hooray! Give it to her!"
As if the captain of the stranded steamer were content to know that
his message had been seen and answered, he sent up no more rockets,
nor did any more answering signals gleam out to seaward. It was a race
in the dark. The _Resolute_ and her rival, if such it was, must run
down two sides of a triangle whose apex was the unseen vessel on the
Reef. Captain Jim had taken the compass bearings of the _Kenilworth's_
rockets and, regardless of the risk he ran in driving his steamer along
the very fangs of the Reef, he held her in a straight line for her goal
and prayed that her bottom would not be ripped off or her straining
boilers blow her sky high.
Almost at the same instant that the excited deck force of the
_Resolute_ glimpsed a red light winking far off to starboard, they saw
the mast-head light of the stranded vessel almost dead ahead.
"That red light out yonder belongs to J. Pringle," muttered Captain
Wetherly, "And we must be pretty near the same distance from that
mast-head light on the Reef. It's going to be a whirlwind finish, all
right."
The _Resolute_ kept full speed ahead as if she intended to cut her
way through the stranded steamer. Not until a huge black shape dotted
with a row of cabin lights loomed a little to one side of her headlong
flight, did Captain Jim shift his course to round to in the deep water
beyond the Reef. His fists were clenched and his jaw was set hard as he
glared from the wheel-house door to find the oncoming boat which he
had sworn to beat. Her lights were no more than a quarter of a mile
away as the _Resolute_ crept under the quarter of the stranded cargo
steamer.
"If that's you out yonder, Jerry Pringle," growled Captain Jim to
himself, "you've slowed up to find out who the dickens we are. No
wonder you're worried. Come on and have it out, you hatchet-faced
pirate."
He seized the whistle cord and the _Resolute_ roared a long, sonorous
blast of greeting and defiance. Then he caught up a megaphone and
shouted toward the steamer stranded on the Reef:
"Ship ahoy! I'll stand by to put a line aboard at daylight. Are you
resting easy as you are?"
"What steamer is that?" came the answering hail from the darkness.
"The tow-boat _Resolute_ of Key West, first vessel to come to your
assistance. Who are you?"
"The deuce you are," and there was the most profound amazement in
the other voice. "This is the steamer _Kenilworth_ of London. A
crosscurrent set me on here but I can work off with my own engines,
thank you."
"You'll never work her off," yelled Captain Jim. "Your vessel will
break her back if it blows much harder. It's high-water two hours after
daylight. It's now or never to pull her clear."
There was no reply. It was evident that Captain Malcolm Bruce was
shocked and bewildered by the unlooked for presence of the _Resolute_
and was sparring for time until he could hail the other craft which by
this time was feeling her way nearer.
Captain Wetherly was in no temper for parleying. He moved the
_Resolute_ up abreast of the _Kenilworth's_ bridge and shouted sternly:
"I know your voice, Captain Bruce. My name is Jim Wetherly. This is the
only tow-boat within five hundred miles that's got the power to drag
you clear. And I must take hold on this next tide, before you begin to
pound and settle. We'll arrange terms afterward."
"I'll wait till daylight before taking any lines aboard," was the curt
response from Captain Bruce who had moved aft to hail the other tug
which had now dropped astern of the _Resolute_.
"This is the _Henry Foster_, in command of Jeremiah Pringle," came
back to him. "We answered your rockets. Shall we stand by?"
"I will let you know when daylight comes," answered the master of the
_Kenilworth_.
Captain Jim Wetherly stamped his foot and snarled at his puzzled mate:
"They must think I'm seven kinds of a fool. I'll block their game right
now. Oh, Dan Frazier, come here, on the jump."
He grasped Dan by the collar, dragged him into the chart-room, and
closed the door. With swift, emphatic utterance Captain Wetherly shot
these instructions into the boy's ear:
"Dan, I'm going to put you aboard the _Kenilworth_. I can't spare
anybody else, and you will be my agent, understand? If Captain
Bruce refuses to take my line, this business will be put up to the
underwriters from start to finish. And the crooked owners won't be able
to collect one dollar of insurance, I'll see to that. And I'll have you
as a witness to prove that the _Resolute_ was first on the spot. Come
along with me."
Captain Jim pulled Dan by the arm toward the lower deck. A boat was
lowered in a twinkling and, while the excited lad waited for a chance
to jump, Captain Jim told him:
"It's likely that Pringle has Barton with him on the tug, and they may
try the same trick. If they come aboard the _Kenilworth_, you remember
that you're working for Jim Wetherly, no matter if it means a scrap."
As the yawl danced away from the side of the _Resolute_, Captain Jim
shouted to the _Kenilworth_:
"Put a ladder overside, if you please, Captain Bruce. I'm sending my
nephew aboard to talk business with you."
"I will talk no business before daylight," roared Captain Bruce. "Call
your boat back."
"Oh, yes, you _will_ take him aboard," stormed Captain Wetherly. "_If
you don't, the underwriters will know the reason why._ Shall I tell
_you_ why?"
"Hooray! but that was a shot below his water-line," chuckled Bill
McKnight from the engine-room door. "But I don't envy Dan his job when
Jerry Pringle climbs aboard the _Kenilworth_."