Bert Wilson, Marathon Winner Part 7

IN THE LINER'S PATH

For several hours now the air had seemed very close and oppressive, and the experienced captain of the _Northland_ felt, through some mysterious sixth sense born of long experience, that a storm was brewing. You may be sure that he gave the matter a good deal more thought than the reckless group of high-spirited boys on board, who would have been satisfied with any kind of weather that came along, provided it gave them a little diversion and excitement. Indeed, it may be that they would even have looked on a s.h.i.+pwreck as something rather pleasant than otherwise, and have regarded it as an ideal chance for adventure.

One reads much in books of the romantic side of s.h.i.+pwreck, but the horrors and privations of such an experience are glossed over. It is safe to say that anyone who has once gone through such a catastrophe will have no desire to repeat it.

Along toward dusk of their second day out, the sky became very overcast, and a gradual drop in the temperature occurred. Of course, the captain and officers were besieged with questions regarding the cause of this, and they had no difficulty in explaining.

"You see," said Captain Everett, unconsciously a.s.suming the pose of a lecturer, "we are now approaching the Grand Banks of Newfoundland, and getting near the ice regions further north. The comparatively near presence of these icebergs naturally cools the air somewhat, and that accounts for the lower temperature we all feel."

"I've read somewhere," remarked Tom, "that the ice is responsible for the frequent fogs found in this section of the map, but I must confess I could never quite figure out why."

"Oh, that's on account of the ice melting so fast in the warmer air,"

explained the captain, "it gives off a thick mist, and when the air is so warm that the ice melts fast enough, it forms a very dense fog. I've read a lot about London fogs, and seen 'em, too, but they can't hold a candle to the fogs you run into on the Banks. And from the way things look now, I rather think you're going to have a chance to judge for yourselves."

Indeed, it was as the captain said. In the distance was what looked to be a low-lying island, but they were a.s.sured that it was in reality a fog bank, lying close to the water. It drifted nearer and nearer, and before they knew it had begun to envelop the s.h.i.+p. First they were conscious of a damp, cold feeling in the air, and then gradually nearby objects grew less and less distinct.

"Say, fellows," laughed d.i.c.k, "I think we'd better get some rope and tie ourselves together before it's too late. We're not going to be able to see each other very long, if this keeps up."

"Righto!" responded Bert. "Why, I can hardly see my own hand now, and for all I know my feet may have walked off on their own hook and got lost in this infernal mist. I can't see them, at any rate."

"Gee, I hope they haven't, old top," said Tom. "I'm afraid it might be rather an inconvenience to you to lose them just now. It will be quite a handicap when you try to run a few days from now, don't you think?"

"Oh, I don't know. I think I could run about as fast on my hands as you could on your feet," retorted Bert, and turned the laugh against Tom.

But by now it was really impossible to see objects more than five feet away, and the boys had to grope their way about with outstretched hands, like so many blind persons. After a while somebody started a game of "blind-man's tag," as they christened it. The one who was "it" had to locate the others by sound, and when he thought he had done so would make a wild rush in the general direction of the noise. Then there would be a wild scramble to get out of his way, and more than one laughing athlete was sent sprawling in a head-on collision. They kept this up till they were tired, and then dropped down on the deck to rest and listen to the yarns of the sailors. Naturally these tales were all about troubles at sea due to fogs, and many a weird story was told that stamped the teller as an inventive genius. Each one tried to crowd more exciting events into his tale than the last narrator, and the result was lurid.

Of course, in most of the stories some part was based on an actual occurrence, but to sift out the truth was like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. However, these old tars were past masters at the art, and there is no doubt that they made their stories interesting. The boys listened with great interest, now and then putting in a question when it seemed needed.

Mermaids and sea serpents abound in many of these yarns, and, as Bert afterward remarked, "seemed commoner than squirrels in a park." But they pa.s.sed the time away very pleasantly, and before the boys realized it, Reddy was among them, commanding, "Off with ye now, and get a good night's rest. Ye should have all been in bed a good half-hour ago."

Of course there was no resisting this mandate, even had they been so inclined, so off to bed they went, groping and stumbling through the fog, that by this time had grown dense almost beyond belief.

"Good-night!" exclaimed Tom, as he tripped over a coil of rope and then slipped on the slippery deck. "I only hope this old tub doesn't go ramming any icebergs the way the old _t.i.tanic_ did a little while ago.

Mermaids may be all right in stories, but I don't care to make their acquaintance under water just yet a while."

"No, I think I can pike along a little while longer without a closer acquaintance," laughed Bert, "and also without seeing any hundred-foot sea serpents in their native element. Why, according to the stories we've just been swallowing, one of those fellows could twine himself around the Woolworth Building and wave his head over the roof without half trying."

"Without a doubt," said d.i.c.k, "and I imagine it would be rather embarra.s.sing to look up and find one gazing at you through the skylight."

"I wouldn't be a bit surprised," said Bert. "However, I guess we won't lie awake very long to-night worrying about it."

"Righto!" acquiesced d.i.c.k, and with a few more remarks along the same line they descended the steep cabin companionway. It was a relief to get out of the dense, clammy fog, and you may be sure the dry, comfortable berths felt very grateful to the tired athletes. In less time than it takes to tell, they had all dropped off into deep slumber.

It seemed but a few moments later when d.i.c.k found himself sitting bolt upright in his berth, with a vague but none the less terrifying sensation that something terrible had happened. At first he thought he must have been dreaming, but a moment later shouts and cries on deck dispelled this idea. d.i.c.k hastily awakened Bert and Tom and all three bounded up on deck, where they found everything in confusion.

As they emerged from the companionway hatch they saw that the fog still held, thicker, if that were possible, than when they had gone below. The captain was shouting orders from the bridge, and members of the crew were scurrying wildly here and there across the slippery decks.

The s.h.i.+p's engines had been stopped, as they could tell by the absence of vibration, but it was several minutes before they could get hold of anybody to tell them what was amiss. Finally, however, they managed to stop one of the crew long enough to be told that they had rammed what appeared to be a fis.h.i.+ng schooner, and that the latter was sinking fast.

Then the sailor hurried off on his interrupted errand, and the three boys dashed forward to the bows, where most of the excitement seemed to be.

As they drew nearer the forward part of the vessel they were able to see grotesque figures, distorted by the fog, hurrying to and fro. Soon, as their eyes became accustomed more and more to the dim light of lanterns, they could make out the outline of the mast and rigging of a sailing vessel close against the side of their own s.h.i.+p.

Up this rigging men were climbing swiftly, and jumping on to the deck of the _Northland_. Already there was a group of eight strange sailors standing there, with more coming all the time. Even as the boys watched, however, the mast of the sailing vessel gave a great lurch, and a cry went up from everybody watching.

"For the Lord's sake, hurry!" went up a shout from those on the stricken vessel. "She's sinking beneath our feet. Jump lively there!"

By the light of the binnacle lamp on the sinking vessel could be seen the st.u.r.dy figure of her captain, standing immovable and calm and giving orders as coolly as though he were not in the slightest danger.

According to the unwritten law of the sea, a captain may not leave his s.h.i.+p until all his crew are off, and it was plain that this man would be staunch to the end.

It became evident that the doomed vessel was sinking fast, and there were still several men on her deck waiting their turn to climb the rigging to safety. Could they possibly get up before the s.h.i.+p foundered?--that was the question.

The mast sank lower and lower, until the last sailor up had to be grasped by friendly outstretched arms and dragged over the rail. There was now no reason for the captain to stay on deck, and seeing this, he made a dash for the mast. But he was a second too late. The waves for several minutes had been lapping at the decks of the doomed craft, which lay at a sharp angle to the water, and now with a sickening lurch it dived under the waves, taking its devoted captain with it.

"Lower a boat, there! Lower a boat," vociferated the captain of the _Northland_, and the crew hastened to obey. In an incredibly short time two boats had been manned and lowered, and began cruising about over the spot where the vessel had sunk. In that dense fog, however, there seemed little hope of ever again seeing the heroic captain, and they were just on the point of giving up the search and returning to their s.h.i.+p when suddenly they heard what seemed to be a faint shout for help out of the fog about fifty yards from them. They rowed toward the sound, after shouting back encouragingly, and it was not long before they made out the figure of a man struggling stoutly in the icy water.

In less time than it takes to tell they had fished him out, and started rowing back to the steamer. Soon they were on board, and were accorded a royal reception by the a.s.sembled pa.s.sengers and crew, all of whom were by this time on deck.

The man whom they had picked up proved to be the captain of the foundered vessel, and everybody crowded forward to shake his hand and congratulate him on his escape.

But now Captain Everett pressed through the crowd, and after greeting the unfortunate skipper and expressing his deep regret over the accident, hustled him off to his cabin. Here he was wrapped in blankets, and served with boiling hot coffee.

After he had recovered his strength somewhat, he proceeded to give his account of the accident.

"We had a lucky day yesterday," he said, "and were anch.o.r.ed over the same spot, intending to start in again early the next morning. Most of the crew was asleep, and on account of this cursed fog our lookout was unable to see your vessel until it was too late to give warning. But fortunately, every body was saved, and as the s.h.i.+p was fully insured, matters might have been much worse, I suppose."

"Yes," said Captain Everett, "we were steaming only at quarter speed, or we would not have been able to get about in time to render you a.s.sistance. I am very thankful that no lives were lost, which is rare good fortune in an accident of this kind."

"It is, for a fact," responded the other, and sank into silence. He appeared to be troubled in mind, and little wonder. Even though he were not actually to blame for the disaster, as of course he was not, still he knew that his employers would hold him responsible. And there is probably no other profession in the world where a clear record is more highly prized than in seafaring.

However, under the cheerful influence of the cabin table his depression seemed to lighten somewhat, and he joined in the general conversation.

He proved to be a man of some education and widely varied experience, and he recounted many tales of peril by sea.

It was late before the party broke up, and the unfortunate mariner was shown to his cabin. He and the members of his rescued crew stayed on the _Northland_ several days, but then a homeward bound vessel was hailed and they were placed on board. There were hearty leave-takings on both sides, with mutual expressions of regret.

As the s.h.i.+ps rapidly drew apart, the captain and crew of the sunken sailing vessel lined the rail, and waved to the athletes until their figures became indistinguishable.

"Well," remarked Bert, as they turned away. "That was an occurrence that we won't forget in quite some time, I guess."

"Bet your life it was," agreed Tom. "It isn't every voyage that we get the chance to do the rescue stunt like that."

"Which is a very fortunate thing," remarked d.i.c.k. "It's all right for us, and gives us a lot of excitement, but it's not much fun for the poor fellows that get wrecked. Here's their vessel, which they probably thought a lot of, as all sailors do, gone, and their employment with it, for the time at least. And that's saying nothing of the close approach to death which they had. I think I'd rather pursue some other occupation than that of the sea. You have too many chances of making a personal visit to the well known Mr. Davy Jones."

"Righto," agreed Tom, with a twinkle in his eye. "I'd rather do something safe, like running a sixty-horsepower automobile at the rate of eighty miles an hour, or some other little amus.e.m.e.nt like that, wouldn't you, Bert?"

"Oh, of course," grinned Bert, "there's no doubt that that's the safest thing in the world to do. You never hear of anyone getting hurt doing that, do you?"

"Certainly not," said Tom. "Why, I've even heard that doctors recommend it to patients suffering from nervous disorders, and requiring a little mild diversion. In fact, it's the customary thing to do."