We did not have long to wait to learn where Scotty was. The murderous,
devil ship had just disappeared into the night when in the silent
midnight waters of the Gulf an ear-splitting report of a cannon came
like a shout from heaven. I was sure now Scotty would follow all night
to get them, sink them or get sunk. Howard and I turned our attention
to actual damages. The lanterns by which we worked had all slid into
the sea. By the wonderful phosphorescent effect of agitated Gulf
waters we could see that the submarine still rolled violently and was
taking water in the after-hold out of which we had been pumping for
six hours. Of course, with hawsers parted, it began to drift away from
us in the tide, accelerated by the tail wake of the big ship.
We heard two more shots from the five-pounder and my confidence in
Scotty and the marine aboard the _Sprite_ increased. I knew the little
Scot was working to do his bit.
Both Howard and I turned together to the little _Titian_ tied with
liberal swinging room to the stern of the _Anti-Kaiser_. We pulled her
alongside and Howard jumped in. "She is half full of water!" he
shouted. "She had keeled over on her beam as the colliding ship shoved
her out of the way!"
The loosened submarine had drifted out of sight. Howard finally found
a lantern and lit it. We went to the lifeboat of the _Anti-Kaiser_, so
securely lashed it would take minutes to free it, and the minutes now
were more than hours at another time, and Howard knew it.
As though pre-arranged he plunged into the sea in the direction of the
drifting prize, his life, his hope, his patriotic endeavor, his duty
to little Jim, all in the balance.
I felt safer now as I knew he would get to her quicker that way even
if she went to the bottom. Fifteen years of sponging had made water
almost a natural element to him.
The _Anti-Kaiser's_ three anchors were let out during the storm and
had evidently held. After a rapid examination no damage was evidenced;
she did not leak.
With the lantern I rushed into the hold. I must have kicked the old
darkey Don pretty hard; he had disgustingly slept through it all. I
then relit the red and green signal light the collision had put out. I
stopped to listen, but the only sound was the faint lapping of the
water against the sides of the _Anti-Kaiser_.
Straining my eyes to get some sign of the prize, I was haunted by the
thought that Howard might not find it and perish. Don came up; I
ordered him to help the marine man the lifeboat, and rushed to the
boat's charts to make sure which way the tidal currents ran there and
estimate in what direction the submarine would drift.
As a naked steel thrust, came the knowledge that it flowed about three
miles per hour through a channel between coral islands less than
three miles away, not navigable because of coral formation close to
the surface, the tide that had been ebbing three hours making it still
more dangerous.
I stood on the stern of the _Anti-Kaiser_ and halloed, again and
again, loud enough, it seemed, to reach the infernal regions. But no
response came forth from the silent Gulf waters. Howard was lost or
had drifted out of my voice's range.
I ordered the marine and Don to bail out the little _Titian_ and see
if he could start its motor. I then jumped into the lowered lifeboat,
determined to find Howard. Scotty, I was sure, would take care of
himself and the hell-bound ship that would run us down with murderous,
destructive intent.
I would row, then get up and shout for Howard to answer, more rowing
and yelling again at the top of my voice, without receiving a sound in
response.
I came back to the _Anti-Kaiser_ hoping Don and the marine had the
_Titian_ bailed out and the motor started; with that I could make more
speed.
They had the water out, but, being flooded so long, the motor would
not start. Again I went out to row, this time in a larger circle,
shouting at regular intervals. I recalled that I had done the same
thing for Howard twenty years ago on Alligator Island in Georgia.
Obsessed by the anxiety and strain the past day's hellish influence
suggested and haunted me with the thought that this time he was lost,
the prize lost, and little Jim fatherless! I tell you it was torture
any man would escape if he could. I recalled waiting for the break of
day as I did on Alligator Island, and prayed that things would turn
out the way they did that time. In this instance it was different,
however. The prize submarine may have been injured and sunk so far
away that Howard was unable to swim back.
Before dawn, after long and hard work, I cleared the _Titian's_ motor
of water and had her running. I knew then I could swiftly search in
daylight, and when the first rays were showing in the horizon Don made
coffee.
As I ate and drank I walked about scanning the water as far as the
slowly advancing light would allow, with no results. At first a light
fog obscured the coral islands, the direction in which I knew he must
drift. The marine and I cursed it. But I stopped suddenly as I heard
old Don in the cabin praying earnestly for the safety of his master.
The sincere supplication moved and comforted.
He was right. It was no time to curse. He put plenty of food and water
in the _Titian_ before I started and looked to see if the rifle in the
holster before me was all right, little Jim's rifle that always went
with the _Titian_; then said as I was leaving that he would continue
to pray for little Jim's father and me until we both returned, and,
say what you will, it gave me a quiet strength.
"I know you gwine to find him," he called to me as the little
propeller began to lash the water viciously as if it, too, knew what
was at stake and gathered express speed like a greyhound with its
quarry in sight.
It wasn't yet broad daylight and patches of fog hung in places, which
I recall annoyed me to irritation, as the _Titian_ shot out in the
direction I thought the prize would drift. I had gone perhaps three
miles before I saw a dark spot that I first thought was a denser fog,
but as I drew near it I could discern the high stern of a merchant
vessel. Yes, it was a vessel, and the _Titian_ seemed to know and
tightened its grip on the water until I came close enough to read on
its stern, _Monserat_ of Vera Cruz. I could recall an old
English-built vessel by that name that sailed under the Mexican flag
between Mexico and California ports, and bore a doubtful reputation
with the custom-house officials on the Pacific Coast. As this flashed
through my mind I changed my course to avoid coming too close. I saw
she was at anchor, the same dirty black sides that seemed to rush by
in their evident intent to run us down. She needed paint and was so
old that she had been built of iron, before steel began to be used in
ship construction.
Scotty wanted to explain why he didn't see her coming and head her off
before she struck, and how he forced her to anchor by two shots into
her upper works. As soon as he stopped I came alongside with him
giving a broadside view of the _Monserat_.
"Have you seen anything of the submarine? This fellow cut us apart and
it has been drifting."
"No--been sailing close around this fellow all night, so that he
didn't play any more tricks until you go aboard," he replied, looking
very haggard and hungry from his all-night patrol, eating the food I
gave him ravenously.
"You did right, Scotty. Hold him at anchor until I return. I've got to
locate the submarine first for she may be still floating into some
dangerous position."
"I think this fellow has a gun aft, and may try something after it
gets full daylight," said Scotty, viewing her with his glasses, and
then, like any good sailor, swept the sea on each side and beyond.
"Circle him at a safe distance and if he tries any tricks give him the
iron--sink the ship rather than allow him to get away," I ordered,
quickly preparing to resume my search in an improved light, much
hastened by Scotty's work.
Scotty did not reply, but continued with his binoculars to the left of
the _Monserat_.
"What is it, Scotty?"
"The light is still bad, but unless the fog fools me I can make out
something to the left of the Mexican. No--no; it's nothing----" he
said, disappointedly and slow. "Yes, it is--surely it is something;
look yourself!" he said excitedly, handing me the glasses.
Eagerly I raised them but at first could see nothing until I changed
the adjustment on the lens, but it was so dim and nebulous I was
afraid Scotty's imagination was working. However, I decided to wait a
few minutes for the light to improve and then take in the
surroundings. The _Monserat_ had been halted and was at anchor about a
half a mile from one of the barren coral groups of the Tortugas. If
what Scotty saw was the prize it had not drifted in the direction
indicated by the charts. But if it was by chance the submarine and if
the Mexican's intent on us last night was deliberate he might attempt
some more tricks as soon as he saw it. I scanned the Mexican
_Monserat_. Yes, there was surely a gun of some size in the stern,
covered with a dirty sail cloth.
When I looked again in the direction Scotty thought he saw something I
was convinced it was not imagination, and decided to go to it at once.
"Scotty, I believe I can make out something over there, too; but it
may be only a coral reef sticking out; you know these waters are full
of them. Take a position well off the _Monserat's_ bow and keep moving
pretty fast back and forth so that he cannot reach you with his stern
gun without weighing anchor. Give him the five-pound steel anywhere if
he attempts to move, but keep out of his way, for that gun has you
outclassed, and if he makes a hit you'll have breakfast with Davy
Jones."
Scotty set his teeth hard and began to obey my instructions. "He's
welcome to all he gets from me. All I wanted was an order from you."
"Be careful though, Scotty. So far we have no charge against her. All
that happened last night could have been accidental, and that's the
devil of it," I called to him as I gave the _Titian_ her wings and
started for the dim object three or four miles beyond.
Yes, it was Howard; he had managed, after tremendous effort, to let
out the anchor of the prize and stood waiting for me, his long hair
and beard reminding me of a sea-lion as he stood in the tower in water
up to his knees. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked all the strain
of his night's effort and days of sleepless endurance.
"I knew you would come at daylight," he said quietly as I came
alongside.
"I tried to find you during the night, but was not successful."
"I thought so. It took me so long to swim to her that after getting
aboard I guess I was unconscious for a time, but upon waking I finally
got her hook out. I don't believe they have used the anchor since it
was built," he said, after a long pull at the water I gave him.
As he ate almost savagely of the food, I told him what happened after
he left, and if he was safe I must go and examine the Mexican and let
him go if nothing irregular were found, as we had no right to hold him
longer.
"Wood, that was not an accident."
"No, but knowing and proving is different. The flag is neutral on the
surface and this farce must be suffered for a time."
"Well, you know best, but that fellow had murder in his heart, whoever
he is. My anchor holds fine and plenty of water, perfectly safe unless
it storms. We can pump her out here as well as anywhere," he added,
somewhat softened, but yet terribly determined. What manner of man
was this who could stand such punishment and exposure?
I could not hold the Mexican, though I was sure she carried Ramund and
party. I never told Howard this until long after. They had picked her
up at Vera Cruz for the deliberate purpose of running down and
destroying us. The principal thing I wanted then was for her to
proceed to the Nicaraguan port for which she was cleared and had
Scotty trail her far past Key West to see that no one was set ashore
here.
We pumped out the prize successfully. The _Anti-Kaiser_ was able to
tow her and I succeeded in getting a sub chaser to convoy it to a
Northern port. I did not see Howard again until the case was about to
be called for trial some months later.