LOST ON THE WESTERN SEA.
Not a hundred yards from him, and bobbing gently up and down on the
long swells, was a small boat.
"If I can only get on board her, I'll be far better off than I would
be here," muttered Nat to himself.
He kicked out vigorously and was soon alongside the drifting shallop.
There was something strangely familiar about her looks to him. As he
climbed on board her, by way of the stern, he soon saw why.
It was the collapsible boat which they had put overboard from the
"Nomad" and the same one which he had detected the mysterious enemy
of the "Island Queen" in the very act of casting loose. Seemingly
that individual had achieved his malicious purpose and the boat,
caught in the Pacific Drift, had slowly been drawn along in the
mile-wide current of debris and flotsam. The chance was a
providential one for Nat, at all events.
As will be recalled, the boat had been stocked up with provisions and
a water keg put on board by the party marooned on the mysterious
schooner. The first thing Nat made for was that keg. It was the
work of an instant to turn the spigot and place his mouth to the
refreshing stream that gushed forth. True, the water was warm,
almost hot, in fact, but to Nat no nectar, brewed on high Olympus
itself, could have tasted more delicious. He drank and then paused
for breath and then, applying himself afresh to the spigot, he drank
again.
The boy kept this up till his thirst was fully quenched, and then he
turned his attention to the eatables. Luckily all the canned stuff
was fitted with patent keys, so that no can opener was needed. The
bag of ships biscuit contained all that was wanted in the way of
bread. Nat thought, as he ate, that he had never tasted a more
delicious meal.
When he had finished he gave a sigh of repletion and looked about
him. The sea was still as empty as the sky. But the sun had sunk
lower and the heat was not so intense.
As he gazed about him, over that vast, lonely expanse, Nat's
apprehensions--lulled for a time--returned tenfold. If he was not
picked up, what would become of him?
He shuddered as he realized what his fate was likely to be. When his
food and water were exhausted he would drift till death overtook him.
Perhaps months, and maybe years, afterward his body, dried by the
heat, would be found adrift on the Pacific and form another of those
"ocean mysteries," of which Captain Akers had told.
The thought was not a cheerful one and Nat tried to busy his mind
with other thoughts. What were they doing on board the "Nomad"?
What would they be thinking on the schooner? What of the mysterious
man, of giant strength, to whose vindictive action he owed all his
present trouble?
"It's a queer situation all around," thought Nat. "Here am I on the
ocean in a rowboat. Joe and Captain Akers are marooned on a
schooner, filled with mystery, and the 'Nomad' is crippled and
drifting about some place, under sail. Shall we ever all meet again,
I wonder?"
So the afternoon passed and the sun grew lower and set. Night rushed
down over the sea with all the swiftness characteristic of those
latitudes. Nat, his head sunk in his hands, allowed his boat to
drift. He had oars, but, he felt, what was the use of using them?
One way was the same as another to him in his predicament. Let the
boat drift at her will.
But by and by the darkness and the inaction got on his nerves.
Picking up the oars, he fell to work feverishly, trying to forget his
troubles in the work. The boat fairly cut along. For some hours he
kept this up and then, worn out, he cast himself on the bottom of his
craft and sank into a deep sleep.
He was awakened by a sharp tug at his sleeve. Starting up, Nat heard
the loud swish of wings. In the darkness he could dimly make out a
huge, winged form making off through the air.
"Ugh!" he exclaimed, with a shudder, "that was some bird of prey that
concluded that I was dead. It was about to make a meal off me if I
had not moved."
Nat shook nervously as he realized that, if some way was not found
out of his predicament before long, he would in very truth be food
for just such birds.
The thought bestirred him to action. He sat bolt upright and gazed
about him. But nothing that he could perceive within his limited
radius of view appeared to give him hope. The night was as silent as
the sea. Overhead the stars burned steadily and with a soft
intensity not seen in the east.
As he gazed up at them a sudden thought was born in Nat's brain. He
threw himself on his knees on the bottom of the boat and, clasping
his hands, he besought his Maker to look down in pity upon him. His
heart seemed lightened as he prayed.
When he had finished he looked about him once more. At first
everything seemed to be the same as when he had withdrawn his gaze;
but, after a minute, he perceived that on the far-distant horizon
something unusual was showing. A dull, red glow.
As he gazed it grew brighter and spread till it seemed to light up
the whole sky. The atmosphere burned blood-red with the light.
"A ship on fire!" thought Nat.
Then came the idea:
"If so, some of her crew have likely escaped and taken to the boats.
I'll row over toward them. They say 'misery loves company.' I'm
sure I shall be glad to fall in with any one to whom I can talk and
who can possibly guide me to some place of safety."
So thinking, Nat fell to his oars and began pulling, with might and
main, for the distant glow.
But distances at sea are deceptive. It seemed to him he had pulled
at least five miles when he gave a second glance over his shoulder at
the fiery sky.
To his disappointment, the blaze seemed to be as far off as ever.
Nat knew, however, that this could not be the case, and, bending to
his oars once more, he pluckily pulled onward. He was rewarded, in a
few minutes, by finding the light growing visibly stronger and the
blaze closer to hand.
As yet, however, he had seen no boats, nor traces of refugees from
the burning ship--such as he surmised the glow must be caused by.
"Maybe they are all waiting near by to see the last of their vessel,"
thought Nat. "In that case I must hurry up or she'll have burned to
the water's edge before I arrive."
But when Nat had drawn quite close the blaze was still burning
fiercely. The flames were shooting up skyward, dimming the stars and
making a grand spectacle. Fountains of sparks soared heavenward as
every now and then some beam subsided with a crash. Nat could hear
the hissing of the water as charred embers fell overboard.
What rig the vessel had been was, of course, impossible for the boy
to make out, for when he arrived within a short distance of her she
was already burned down to a mere hulk. Her masts and upper works
had vanished some time before, a prey to the savage flames.
All at once a hail came across the waters.
"Boat ahoy!"
To Nat it seemed that he must be in a dream. It could not be
possible that the voice he heard was Joe Hartley's, and yet it was
mighty familiar.
Again came the hail. This time there was no question about it. It
was Joe, though how he happened to be there Nat had no idea. Half
stunned by astonishment, he hailed back:
"Joe--old fellow--is it really you!"
"Sure enough, Nat," cried the voice, while a cheer, given in hearty
American style, rang out over the crimsoned waters.
At the same instant, from the midst of the intense glare, which had
hitherto prevented Nat from seeing any distance, glided the
well-known form of the "Nomad." Nat came near fainting a second time
from sheer surprise as he saw her, for the power-craft was not under
sail, but came gliding swiftly on, evidently running under motor
power.
Ten minutes later he was on board and after a perfect tempest of
congratulations, handshakings and questions had been bandied about,
Joe explained it all.
After Nat had been missed from the "Island Queen," they naturally
suffered most intense anxiety on his behalf. What made it all the
more puzzling was that the boat was missing also. But right then
they had troubles of their own on hand as well as Nat's strange
disappearance. It will be recalled that the two were asleep when Nat
was hurled overboard from the schooner and they did not--as Nat had
surmised would be the case--awaken till some time later.
When they did so it was to find Nat gone and the schooner staggering
along, at a lively gait, under all sail. Luckily Captain Akers
recalled that he had seen some navigating instruments in the cabin of
the "Island Queen." As the bearings of the "Nomad" had been taken
the day before, it was a simple matter by figuring out their then
position to sail the schooner back to where they had left
her--simple, that is, so far as the mathematical part of the
proposition went.
But the "sailor part" of it was different. Luckily, however, the
wind did not increase in violence and, leaving the helm to Joe,
Captain Akers managed to get the vessel about. To their huge
delight, they found that the good sense of Captain Nelsen had
prevented the "Nomad" being moved in search of them, as had been the
wish of the others left on board. Captain Nelsen, however, had
argued that they had better stop right in that position, or as nearly
so as possible, in case Captain Akers did find--as proved to be the
case--his way back again.
The "Nomad" and the schooner were then coupled together by means of
grappling irons and amid general rejoicing--which was sadly marred by
the news of Nat's vanishment--the work of transferring her cargo of
kerosene to the "Nomad" was begun. While it went on Sam Hinckley,
skillfully mended up the fuel tanks and, after they were declared
tight, they were filled. The engine was started and was found to
work perfectly on the stuff, as, in fact, the builders had assured
Captain Akers it would.
"So there we were, all ready to go onward once more, but without you
we could not and would not proceed," said Joe, throwing his arm about
Nat's shoulders as the latter sat beside him on the "Nomad's" bridge,
the glow of the fire still lighting up the scene.
"But, Joe," exclaimed Nat, "you haven't yet told me the most
interesting part of all this. What vessel is that on fire? And what
has become of the mysterious sailor?"
"I'm coming to that," said Joe.
"I wish you had begun there," laughed Nat, "considering that the
rascal threw me overboard."
"Listen and you will hear his fate," said Joe, with a grandiloquent
air. Nat hung on his words as the lad proceeded.