the escambia met the waves like a stubborn bull dog. as each new one broke over her, the laboring oarsmen were deluged. bob and jerry took the bow seat and caught up the idle oars. both were soaked to the skin.
his teeth set, his arms straining at his heavy oar and his body chilled, bob’s only thought was: could he hold out? he was already trembling from exhaustion but he gave no sign of it. he was no longer a half invalid seeking rest—he was one of six persons exerting every ounce of energy to save human lives.
in the wind swept black night, rearing skyward one moment and dropping as in a canyon the next, twisting and turning beneath the crushing combers and dropping their heads to lessen the smother of the sea, the four young oarsmen pulled desperately. with eyes closed, bob’s oar rose and fell to the loud sea chant of the steersman. now and then all could feel the heavy plunge of captain joe’s guiding oar. and, even against the storm, the boys knew that the chugging engine was helping.
in time, bob’s fear of being swamped grew less. the escambia, almost beneath the boil of water at times, would struggle to the surface again, shaking her rounded sides. not a boy spoke, and not a boy wavered in his stroke. but the struggle was telling on bob. how long they had labored, he did not know. he knew he had nearly reached the limit of his efforts but he hung over his oar, his teeth tight to hold in his exhausted breath and his muscles quivering.
at last there was a new lunge to the boat. it rose on a wave, dipped almost to capsizing, and then, suddenly, the smothering spray rolled over the stern. bob somehow understood that captain joe’s sharp command was permission to cease work. as his closed eyes opened, he was conscious that mac or captain joe was waving the ship’s lantern.
with an effort, bob forced his head up. the other boys were shipping oars, and mac and captain joe were calling above the roar of water. then the engine ceased and, with the lantern in his arms, mac stumbled forward between the panting boys.
“ship ahoy!” mac was yelling frantically. “give us a line. board the boat!” he shouted, clinging to the bow and waving his lantern.
the escambia had passed to the windward of the craft in distress and was now plunging swiftly toward the distress signal. suddenly, out of the black night, a blacker hulk shaped itself and then the blazing signal seemed almost directly above the lunging life boat. there were no cries for help; no sound but the boom of the gale. the next instant, the escambia swept under the black, low stern of a vessel.
“fall to,” came captain joe’s quick command. doggedly the four spent boys dug their oars into the water once more, as they felt the strong armed romano sweep the life boat about. the sombre hulk faded from sight. bob knew that the escambia, having missed the wreck, was now working up into the lee of the vessel. in its lee, the tumbling waves slid into a whirl of angry water, and the escambia shot forward with new life.
“bring her under the bow,” yelled mac, braced forward. “here, jerry, bear a hand.”
as the three remaining boys laid to the oars, jerry and mac freed the life line that had been made fast for bob’s and jerry’s security.
“must be abandoned,” spluttered mac, as he followed the line aft. then, at the stern, he panted, “get her under bow chains, captain[101] joe, an’ i’ll git a hitch on ’em. must be a pack o’ dead ones—not ready with no line—after we showed ’em our light.”
at the instant, the distress signal blazed up anew like a rocket. as the unexpected light lit up the scene, the boys dropped their stroke. even captain joe paused to make a quick survey. what they had taken to be a schooner was a small steamer, wallowing in the trough of the sea. there were neither side, port nor spar lights. but, just forward of the aft deck cabins, a bedraggled man, on his knees, was dipping oil or pitch into a blazing barrel.
“fall to!” shouted captain joe sharply again. as the three oarsmen swung their long sweeps once more in the quieter waters in the steamer’s lee, the escambia crawled under the foundering steamer’s cut water. there was a crash. believing that the vessel in distress was a sailing craft, captain joe and mac had planned to make fast to her bowsprit stays. too late to alter the escambia’s course, the life boat plunged alongside the rolling steamer’s smooth bow.
but the gritty mac was not to be thwarted. as the lifeboat rose on the roll of water the “expelled” member of the boat club hurled himself[102] forward in the darkness. there was another smash against the steamer’s side but bob’s bullying enemy held fast and, one arm about a still standing deck rail stanchion, as the life boat fell off once more in the rush of the storm, there was a thick shout of, “all right here,” and those in the boat knew that mac had found lodgment on the steamer.
once again the almost exhausted boys bent to their oars and captain joe swung the escambia back in the lee of the steamer. jerry was braced in the bow, and at the first call from mac he cast the line. it fell short, and again he tried. this time there was a pause and then another panting cry, “all fast here—haul away.”
“gimme a hand, youse kids,” was jerry’s peremptory orders. three spent oarsmen tumbled forward into the bow.
“haul away and pass up the light,” sang out mac again. four pairs of strong young arms drew the escambia slowly toward the steamer and, as the life boat bumped against the steamer’s hull once more, captain joe, pushing the straining boys aside, grasped the line, and with a turn made the rope fast about the bow post. jerry already had the light high above his head. mac, with a turn of the rope about the top of a fender was holding on desperately.
jerry already had the light high above his head.
the escambia rolled and plunged but it was fast to its quest. tom was already bracing himself to swing aboard the wreck when captain joe shouted:
“stow dem oars make ’em safe.”
hal and bob crawled back into the rocking boat and did so, and then captain joe standing in the bow with one arm about the taut straining line tossed the lantern to mac. it was ticklish work, boarding the steamer, but, with mac’s assistance, one after another of the lifeboat crew scrambled on to the vessel. for a moment, each boy was glad to throw himself on the deck. and, as they did so, it could be seen that the man at the fire barrel had not even noticed their presence. in the howl of the wind and crashing of the waves, he had heard nothing.
captain joe’s first work was to make a survey shoreward. all was black except in one place. to the starboard and slightly abaft the drifting steamer, a flickering light could be seen. it was the still burning campfire on the lee of the sand spit. even the inexperienced bob saw at once that the escambia had followed the steamer some distance east of the pass. he also realized[106] that, dead ahead, the beach confronted the unfortunate steamer. before he had time to speculate on what was to be done, captain joe caught up the lantern.
the steamer was not a large one, and its iron deck forward and amidship was clear of cargo. grasping the rail, the rescuers crept toward the solitary man crouched forward of the deck house.
“ahoy there!” called captain joe. as the boys all joined in the cry, the man arose, shaded his eyes from the brilliant glow of his signal, and with a moan sank on the deck.
“ye the skipper?” shouted romano, springing to the man’s side.
with a fear-stricken look, the man, who did not seem to be a sailor, struggled to his feet.
“we’re on the breakers,” he gasped. “you the life boat?” he added wildly.
“what’s the matter with your engines?” shouted mac. “an’ where’s the crew? what’s doin’?”
“gone,” moaned the man. “i couldn’t stop ’em—in the boats.”
“the skipper?” added captain joe with scorn. “he gone?”
the agitated man pointed toward the cabins beyond him.
“fever,” he mumbled thickly, making an effort to compose himself. “fever and whisky—drunk.”
captain joe started forward, as if to discover the officer who should have been in charge.
“no use,” cried out the man. “he hasn’t known anything all day. i’m done. we’re in the breakers. we’re lost,” he shouted again. “and not a man to help me.”
“the engine?” repeated tom, crowding forward. “what’s the matter?”
the man seemed, suddenly, to lose his head completely. with a wild stare at the light glimmering on the shore, he rushed toward the rail.
“save me,” he shouted. “not a man among ’em all! cowards!” he yelled, and shook his fist toward the black swirl of water. captain joe caught the bewildered man by the shoulder and whirled him about.
“your anchors?” he demanded. “where’s your anchors?”
the lone man threw his hands to his face.
“i couldn’t do it—i didn’t know how.”
“but your engine?” exclaimed mac again.
“the shaft broke yesterday,” answered the[108] man at last. “we’ve been driftin’—we’re on the breakers, i tell you,” he shouted again. “can’t you save her?” he wailed.
the storm had not abated. the low lying steamer rose and fell sluggishly but with each roll, it drifted closer to a certain doom on the wave pounded beach. the crew of the escambia huddled about the bewildered man. captain romano grasped the lantern again, and lowered it over the steamer’s rail.
“she’s opened her plates, or she’s been a shippin’ sea all even’in’,” he commented. “struck anything?” he asked abruptly, addressing the bewildered passenger again.
the man shook his head helplessly.
“you’re founderin’,” added romano. then he drew himself up as if ready to act. “de boat’s a west indian, boys, an’ she mus’ had nigger crew. dey ain’t scuttle her, but all de hatch an’ port is wide open. what’s de cargo?” he asked, turning again toward the man.
“timber.”
“what kin’ timber?”
“hard wood—mahogany from san domingo—twenty thousand dollars worth of it,” wailed[109] the man. “and every dollar of it mine. i’m ruined.”
“maybe so,” answered captain joe. “when yo’ tradin’ on de sea, yo’ mus’ ship white men. go git some blanket on yo’ an’ bring two blanket fo’ dese wet kids. boys,” he exclaimed sharply, “heave dat bon fire overboard. den we see ef we kin keep her offen de beach.”
instead of following instructions, the nearly demented mahogany trader began again to bemoan his loss, and then fell to cursing the cowardly crew.
“i don’t want a blanket,” exclaimed bob. the excitement, and his constant activity had long since set up a reaction against the chill caused by his immersion on the beach. “i can’t work in a blanket.”
there was too much to do to argue the matter.
“shall we let go the anchors, sir?” asked mac, when the boys had hurled the grease and oil laden barrel into the sea.
the experienced old sailor quickly explained his plan. the almost water-logged steamer was too far into shallow water to be anchored with safety. if the storm increased, there was danger of her pounding. well forward, there was a single, small mast—more for signal lights than[110] for sailing purposes—but it carried two jibs. if these could be set, with them and the wheel, some slight control might be secured of the drifting craft.
mac, jerry and tom were as well qualified to tackle this bit of work as the oldest sea dog. they sprang forward instantly, and when captain joe, the other boys and the distracted owner of the cargo reached the bow with the lantern, the amateur salts were already hauling on the slatting jibs. with captain joe’s assistance, the canvas was got under control.
“now, lads,” said captain joe, “she’ll never come with them alone—but they’ll help. look lively an’ pick up a good bit o’ cable.”
after a search, about six fathoms of two inch rope was discovered, one end of which the old fisherman made fast to the anchor ring on the starboard bow.
“bring de escambia forward,” he ordered, “and make de other end o’ de cable fas’ to de stern post. i’m goin’ to de wheel. maybe de canvas will help. we got to bring dis boat in de pass, or she good as los’. ef de jibs done do it, yo’ mus’ swing her over on de starboard tack. yo’ got to pull an’ pull hard an’ make dat engine raise a rumpus. ef she came ’bout, i[111] head her in de pass, an’ mr. man save his logs. an’ ef she done come ’bout, i wave de lantern. den stan’ by in de boat to take us off fo’ she’s in de breakers.”
it was all plain enough. if there was power enough in four pairs of willing arms and the escambia’s engine to help the steamer’s jibs throw the craft on a starboard tack, captain joe’s skill at the wheel might bring the steamer safely into the pass, and the protection of perdido bay.
“tumble overboard,” shouted tom, and, fearless alike of the still raging storm and the renewed exertion, one after another, the five irrepressible youngsters dropped into the two or three inches of water on the escambia’s bottom. while jerry and tom made fast the heavy cable to the stern post, mac was busy with the engine and bob and hal got the oars ready.
“he’ll never start that engine with all that water about her,” said hal to bob. but he had forgotten that that was one thing mac understood. and he had also forgotten that mac never got so excited that he neglected to care for his engine. it required the use of captain joe’s lantern, several primings of gasoline and as[112] many turns of the flywheel, but, to hal’s surprise, the engine did start and keep going.
tossing the lantern back on to the deck, mac caught up the steering oar, and, as captain joe hauled in on the cable, the bow of the life boat swept away from the steamer. the rush of the waves made taut the cable, and as mac gave the word to the eager oarsmen to “fall to,” captain joe could be seen hastening aft to take the wheel. at his heels followed the distraught cargo owner, still pleading for the rescue of his property.
