As the doctor left the room, the two sailors neared the stoker, who lay with his eyes closed, as if absolutely oblivious to their presence.
“Well, old b’y,” said O’Brien, “how be ye feelin’ afther your duckin’? Pretty spry?”
Slowly the man opened his eyes and let them rest for a long minute on the big Irishman’s ruddy face. When he spoke, the words came haltingly, as if he were groping in his memory for facts that persistently eluded him.
“I don’t seem to recollect,” he said, “just exactly what happened. Was I—did I”—and the fear and pleading in his voice went straight to O’Brien’s heart—“was I—mad?”
“Now don’t you worry about that, son,” O’Brien lied, kindly. “Ye wuzn’t mad, ye wuz jist a thrifle touched be the heat. Oi’ll bet anythin’ ye’ll be up ’n aroun’ as hale an’ hearty asthe skipper himself in a day or two.” Then he added in an undertone to his companion, “Bedad, an’ if he ain’t as sane as any man jack of us, me name ain’t Pat O’Brien. Sure an’ Oi ain’t niver seen the loike of it before.”
“Me neither,” the other answered in awestruck tones. “He goes off the boat madder than a March hare and comes back after a dip in the briny and a knock-out punch over one eye seemin’ as right as a trivet. It beats all.”
Meanwhile the man on the bed had been watching the men wistfully, and as O’Brien turned to him again, he asked eagerly, “Please tell me everything. I know I was out of my head, so you needn’t be afraid to tell me the truth.”
“Sure and Oi will, then,” Pat said, heartily, and he did, from beginning to end, omitting nothing.
When the tale was finished the doctor came again to have another look at his patient and was surprised and delighted at his improvement. “Why, at this rate we’ll have you up and around by this time day after to-morrow,” he cried. “What’s that?” as the stoker whispered something in his ear. “Why, yes, I guess he will come. I’ll give him your message, anyway, and see what he says.”
Then with a cheerful nod he left his patientto the enjoyment of a well-cooked, appetizing meal.
Half an hour later Bert, clad once more in dry, snug clothes, made his way hurriedly below to the stokers’ cabin. He had declined his friends’ offer to accompany him, for his instinct told him that the stoker would prefer to see him alone.
As he turned the knob of the door the stoker looked around inquiringly. Bert went forward quickly.
“I am Bert Wilson,” he said. “The doctor gave me your message and I came as soon as I could get a bite to eat.”
“It was very good of you to come, sir,” the man replied, nervously fumbling with a glass on the table at his elbow. “You see, I wanted to thank you and tell you how sorry I am that I gave you—any—trouble in the water.” His voice was scarcely above a whisper. “I can jist recollect, now, that I tried to—kill—you. Can you ever—forgive——”
“Forgive,” Bert interrupted. “Why, I have nothing to forgive, but if I had I would have forgiven and forgotten long ago.” Then he put out his hand impulsively and said in that frank, open way that was peculiarly his own, “You and I have gone through great danger together and have managed to pull through with nothing buta few scratches to tell the story. Shall we shake hands on it?”
“Well, you sure did get everything that was coming to you, Bert,” Tom said, as they were getting ready for bed that night. “You asked for excitement——”
“And I got it,” Bert finished, as he slipped in between the cool, inviting sheets. “Good-night, fellows, I’m off.”
“Yes, me byes, there’s nothin’ in this wide world much worse, to me manner o’ thinkin’, than a ‘ringer.’” It was Reddy who spoke, following up a conversation in which most of the athletes had joined. “Crookedness is a bad thing in any line of business or amusement, but it’s specially bad in anythin’ like sport, that in its very nature ought to be kept clean and wholesome. It’s a queer thing, though, but true none the less, that there’s nothin’ much worse than some branches o’ sport. Look at prize fightin’, fer instance. O’ course, I’m not sayin’ that some fights aren’t on the level, an’ all that, but take them as a rule and the scraps and scrappers are so crooked they could hide behind a corkscrew.”
“Yes, and there are lots of other things the same way,” observed Bert, who was one of the group. “I’ve been told that wrestling is as crooked, if not more so, than boxing. Do you think it is, Reddy?”
“Well, that’s a hard question, m’ son,” returnedthe veteran trainer, thoughtfully. “When you get right down to it, there’s not much to choose between them. I’ve seen many a boxin’ an’ wrestlin’ bout in my time, but there’s very few that I thought was straight from start to finish. It’s a wonder to me how the fight promoters manage to keep on fooling the public. It looks to me as though a babe in arms would get wise to their game. But nix! The poor ginks will file out of a hall after a rotten go, swearing they’ll never spend a cent to see another fight, and the next week they’re back again, same as ever.”
“I guess there’s not as much underhand work in other lines of sport as in that, though, is there, Reddy?” questioned Tom.
“No, I don’t think there is,” answered Reddy, speculatively. “Of course, among amateurs, there generally isn’t the money incentive that the professionals have, and that makes a big difference. The hard thing, when you’re dealing with amateur meets, is to keep professionals out. Some club will want specially to win a race, and like as not they’ll look around for some professional, who’s not too well known, to help them out. It’s a dirty, low-down trick, o’ course, but it’s tried many a time, just the same.”
“Huh,” said Tom, “why doesn’t the amateur up and beat the professional at his own game?There’s nothing very wonderful about a man, just because he runs for money, instead of the honor.”
“Thrue fer you, me bye,” returned Reddy, smiling, “but that’s sometimes easier said than done. A man who’s running to earn his bread is usually going to run faster than the man who’s simply out fer glory. That may not sound very noble, and all that, but it’s the truth, nine times out o’ ten.”
“Yes, but how about the tenth time?” asked Bert, who had been listening attentively to all the trainer said.
“Well, once in a great while the ‘ringer’ gets tripped up, o’ course. I remember one time, many a long year ago, when I saw jist the thing you mentioned happen,” and a reminiscent smile spread over the veteran’s face.
The listening group of young athletes sensed a story at once, and assailed Reddy with requests to “fire away, and tell them about it.”
The trainer seemed in a talkative mood, and without much urging, began.
“’Twas whin I was but a young lad,” he said, “but even thin I was always interested in sport of any kind, and used to attend ivery track event for miles around the little town where I lived. I used to help around the club houses, carryin’ water and such things, and got to know, by sightat any rate, a good many well-known runners and sich.
“Well, one day there was a big college meet not far from our town, and o’ course nothin’ would do me but what I must see it.
“Accordin’ly, I was hangin’ around the club house long before the time for the race, and had plenty o’ time to size up the contestants. They were as fine lookin’ a set o’ byes as you could wish to see, and they was all jokin’ and rough-housin’ as though they had never a care on their minds. I knew they’d be in dead enough earnest in a little while, though.
“Well, the time come for them to get dressed in their runnin’ togs, and suddenly I began to sit up an’ take notice, as you might say. As one big, sthrappin’ feller, that I hadn’t noticed much before, on account o’ his havin’ kept apart a little from the others, and havin’ been so quiet-like, stood up in his runnin’ suit, it flashed across me mind that I’d seen him run some place before. At first I couldn’t place him, think as hard as I might, but suddenly I remembered where I’d seen him. It was at a race held about a year ago, and then he had run in the hundred-yard dash with professionals and had come in third.
“‘Well, what do ye know about that,’ thinks I to myself, ‘the good fer nothin’ crook is goin’ to run against these young fellers, and it’s acinch he’ll cop off the prize.’ And, believe me, I felt sorry for the other boys that was goin’ to race against him, fer I knew he was fast, although not among the first-raters, and I figured that none o’ the others would have a show in his company.
“However, there was nothin’ I could do, for nobody would have taken my word for it, an’ I’d a’ got laughed at fer my trouble. So I kept me own council, and sat tight, but all interest in the big race was lost fer me, for I hated crooked work about as much then as I do now, I guess.
“There was a young feller from C—— that I’d picked to win the hundred-yard dash, before I recognized this ringer chap. (His name was Smith, by the way, but he was known now, I found out, as Castle.) Young Sidney was a game kid, all right, from his toes up. He wasn’t very tall, and at first glance you wouldn’t think he’d be any great shakes as a runner. But he could get away at the crack o’ the pistol about as fast as any man I ever saw, barrin’ none, and he could certainly burn up the track fer a short distance. He was never much on the long distances, but he was sure class on everythin’ up to three hundred yards.
“I’d seen him run several times, and once or twice when I’d brought him a drink o’ water, or somethin’ like that, he’d grin at me an’ give mea pleasant word or two. So I had a likin’ for him, and was minded to put him wise.
“So the first chance I got I sidled up to him and tipped him off that this Castle feller was a ‘profesh.’ He gives a long whistle, and looks pretty much surprised, naturally. But he was game, clear through, and he says to me, ‘Well, kid, I don’t care if he is a professional. I’m as good a man as he is, and I think I can beat him, anyway. It’s the only chance I have, because I’m not going to squeal to the officials.’
“Well, I liked him all the more for that, and o’ course wished him all kinds o’ luck. Me heart was heavy fer him, though, for I didn’t think he would get a look-in.
“By now the time had come fer the lads to line up, and they all filed out o’ the club house, as sober as so many deacons. The starter got them in position, and everythin’ was ready fer the event. There were five starters, and each one looked to have a chance to the finish.
“‘Get on your mark! Get set!’ yelled the starter, and pointed his little pistol up in the air. Crack! she went, and the lads were off in a bunch, runnin’ as though the old Nick were after thim.
“This ‘ringer’ chap was up to all the tricks of the trade, howiver, and had ‘beat this pistol’ by the shade of an eyelash. He had a five-foot lead on young Sidney before they’d gone eightyards, and that’s an awful lot in a hundred-yard sprint. ‘Good-night,’ thinks I to meself, ‘the ringer’s won the race already,’ and the thought made me far from happy, as ye may aisily imagine.
“But the old boy himself seemed to be in young Sidney, and before I knew it my heart was in me mouth and I was almost yelling me lungs out rootin’ for him.
“He raced along in great bounds, and it seemed to me as though each stride covered ten feet. By the time they’d made half the distance he was right up to the ‘ringer’s’ shoulder, and seemed to be goin’ faster each second.
“Smith (or Castle, whichever you choose to call him) gave a glance back, and let out every bit o’ speed in him. For a second he drew away from the kid, and I was almost ready to cry, I was so disappointed.
“But Sidney was not the bye to be left behind, and he put on full steam, so to speak. By now everybody that was watchin’ the race was standin’ on their ears with excitement, and when at the seventy-five-yard mark Sidney drew right abreast of this Smith chap I thought the whole field would go wild. Pretty women an’ girls waved their parasols and shrieked at the top o’ their lungs, and as fer the men—well, they just went plumb batty.
“The other entries were practically out of the race now, and were plugging along far in the rear. The two leaders hit it up faster an’ faster, till they were fairly flying. For all he was a ‘ringer,’ the Smith chap was game, and did his best, I’ll say that for him. But young Sidney was a regular cyclone that day, and on the last ten yards jumped ahead as though the other fellow were standing still. It seemed to me he cleared the last fifteen feet in one jump, and I’ll swear he was in the air when his breast broke the ribbon.
“He’d won the race, all right, but he didn’t hear the applause that pretty nearly split the sky in two. He just crumpled up like a wet rag, and it was pretty near ten minutes before we could bring him to.
“When he did finally open his eyes, he happened to look at me first, and he grinned weakly, ‘Well, Red, we trimmed the “ringer” good and plenty, you and I, didn’t we?’ and he actually shook hands with me.
“Believe me, boys, I was the happiest kid in the State that day, bar none.”
Here Reddy stopped speaking, and gazed ruminatively out over the ocean, with what looked like a mist in his blue eyes.
After the athletes had discussed this story in all its details, Bert asked, “But what became ofthe ‘ringer,’ Reddy? What did they do to him?”
“Oh, there was nothing much we could do,” replied the trainer, “but, believe me, it was an awful knock to the college that put him up to it, and I don’t think they tried that trick for many a long day afterward. Believe me, lads, crookedness doesn’t pay, in sport or in anything else.”
The good shipNorthlandhad been traveling at reduced speed several hours, and Bert, who was always intensely interested in the operation of the vessel, was quick to notice this. At supper time the speed had not increased, and accordingly Bert took the first opportunity that presented itself to ask the captain respectfully the reason for this.
“Why, it’s this way,” he was told, “we’ve been receiving wireless messages recently that there is considerable ice in these waters, and we’re going slowly in consequence. Of course, at this time of the year, we oughtn’t to have to bother about icebergs at all, but the last winter was very long and cold, and this is the result.”
“Oh, I see,” said Bert; “but how do you know when you’re in the neighborhood of an iceberg? I should imagine it would be a rather hard object to make out.”
“No, you’re wrong there,” responded the captain. “They are very easy to see, as they emit apale sort of glimmer that makes them very prominent at night. Of course, you never have any difficulty locating them in the daytime, fortunately. And then there’s another thing: they always chill the air for a considerable distance around them, and any sailor can tell what is threatening his ship when he feels this. Oh, no, they are easy enough to avoid, as a rule. Of course, sometimes a vessel running at high speed will not get warning of the presence of the menace until it is too late, as in a fog, for instance. In that case there is generally a report of another wreck in the morning papers a few days afterward.”
“But I should think there would be a way of detecting them by means of some instrument, say, for example, with an ordinary thermometer,” said Bert.
“Well, devices of that kind have been invented and used,” replied Captain Everett, “but in these days of high speed the warning generally comes too late, unless the ship is steaming at a very slow pace.”
“Well, then, science has been able to find nothing that is much better than the old method of a watch up in the crow’s nest. Is that the idea?” questioned Bert, in a disappointed tone. He had great faith in the ability of mechanical science to solve every problem under the sun,and accordingly he was incredulous on this point.
“So far that is true,” said the captain; “but a device has recently been patented that seems to fill the bill perfectly, as far as I can see.”
“How does that work?” queried Bert.
“Well, to explain it, you would have to have a rather exhaustive knowledge of icebergs and their habits,” said the captain, smiling; “however, I will do my best to make it clear to you. You see, an iceberg, being so much colder than the surrounding water, sets up a series of currents in the ocean, that are felt for a considerable distance. The warmer water flows toward the ’berg, and the colder water away, just as in the air the warmer air will rise and the colder air rush in to take its place. Is that plain?”
“Oh, certainly, I can understand how that works, all right,” replied Bert.
“Well, in that case, you can see how simple the rest is,” said the captain. “All you have to do is construct an instrument that will be affected by these currents, and your problem is solved. Of course that is a comparatively simple matter, and the writer of the article I read claimed to have done it. His theory seemed very plausible to me, and I would be very little surprised to see every ship equipped with his device in the near future.”
“It certainly seems feasible,” agreed Bert,“in fact, it seems so simple that it’s queer someone has not thought of it before.”
“Oh, there’s nothing surprising in that, to my way of thinking,” said Captain Everett. “Many of our greatest inventions, or rather their principles, existed long before they were put to practical use. Take steam, for example. Steam has existed from the beginning of the world, with all its power and possibilities, yet it is not until a comparatively recent date that it has been harnessed and put to work. It’s the same way with electricity, or any of a thousand things you could think of.”
“Yes, there’s no doubt but what you’re right,” admitted Bert, “but just the same, it seems too bad they couldn’t have been discovered sooner. Look at theTitanicdisaster, for instance. If they had had that device that you were just telling me about installed, the whole tragedy could probably have been avoided, and the world been spared a horrible disaster.”
“It certainly does seem a pity,” agreed the captain, “but then, if everything had been discovered right off, there would have been nothing left for you or me to invent, and the world would have no work left for anyone to do. There seems to be a great plan back of these things, after all.”
“It’s too bad we haven’t something of thekind on board now,” said Bert. “It might come in handy.”
“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised,” said Captain Everett, with a worried air. “I hate to lose valuable time crawling along at this pace, but of course anything is better than what might happen if we didn’t. I don’t want to cheat old Uncle Sam out of a victory by drowning all his athletes,” and here he smiled.
“Oh, it would be a terrible loss,” agreed Bert, slyly, “specially that of yours truly. That would indeed be an irreparable calamity.”
“Oh, of course, of course,” laughed the captain. “That goes without saying, Wilson.”
At this point Reddy strolled up, and joined in the conversation. His thoughts, however, dwelt more with perfecting a certain crowd of athletes for the coming Olympic games than with inventions to warn ships of their peril, or any other kind.
After a time the captain asked Reddy how his charges were coming along.
“Oh, as well as could be expected, I suppose,” growled the trainer. Secretly he was more than satisfied with their condition, but would have died rather than admit it. “They seem more inclined to exercise their jaw muscles than anything else, but otherwise they’re not so awful bad.”
“That’s rather negative praise,” laughed Bert, “but we know very well that if we weren’t all right Reddy would be exercising his ‘jaw muscles’ more than he does, so we have to be satisfied with that.”
Reddy grinned, but made no reply, and shortly afterward sauntered off. After a little further conversation with the captain, Bert followed suit, and strolled up into the bows, where a man was on lookout.
The sailor was gazing intently ahead, and did not look up at the sound of Bert’s approach, or even when he spoke to him. He knew that the safety of the whole ship and those on board rested on him, and he was taking no chances.
He answered Bert’s salutation civilly enough, however, but answered his questions only in monosyllables, and Bert soon gave him up as a bad job. He realized, moreover, that the man was right, as it was against the ship’s rules to talk while on duty.
So Bert leaned against the bulwarks in silence, having little else to do at the time, and gazed ahead in an abstracted fashion. No sound was to be heard save the wash of the water against the bows, and occasionally a shout or laugh from the athletes amidships.
Suddenly Bert was roused from his reverie by a call from the lookout.
“Ice ahead! Ice ahead!” yelled the sailor, and dashed madly toward the stern, waving his arms wildly.
Bert gazed intently ahead, and could faintly make out a luminous mass some distance from the ship, but directly in its path. He was conscious of a feeling of damp chill in the air, too, and felt that they were nearing an iceberg. Suddenly the vibration of the engines ceased, and then started again, and Bert knew they had been reversed. The ship seemed to lose little of its speed at first, though, and the huge ’berg loomed up closer and closer. The helm had been put over, and the ship swung around obediently, and so approached the ’berg at an angle. Shouts and cries arose from the crew and some of the passengers, and it was an exciting moment.
Gradually the ship lost its momentum under the reverse pull of the big propellers, but to Bert it seemed impossible that they could stop in time. Nearer and nearer they came, and the ship seemed wrapped in an icy fog. Now Bert could make out details of the ’berg, and even in such a time as this, when it seemed that he was approaching certain death, he noted idly the huge spires and needles of ice that rose into the blue sky like church steeples.
Now the good ship was almost touching the ’berg, but was at a long angle with it. Bert sawthat the impact would not be as great as he had at first imagined, but nevertheless he awaited it with bated breath.
Then it came—a jarring, grinding, glancing blow, and the ship trembled from bow to stern. Huge fragments of ice clattered down on her decks, and some of her crew were badly hurt by flying ice splinters.
There was great confusion then, and a few of the crew started a rush for the boats, but were met before they could get there by Captain Everett and his first and second officers, all with revolvers in their hands.
“Back there! Back!” shouted the captain, and his ordinarily mild eyes blazed with an angry light. “The first man who moves another step forward dies! Get back to your posts, every one of you, and be glad I don’t shoot you like the dogs you are!”
Cowed by his determined demeanor, and that of the other officers, the men slunk back, and Captain Everett set about finding what damage had been done. Two sailors were sent below to inspect the hold, and the captain awaited their report with keen anxiety.
Soon the two men returned, and one said: “There seems to be nothing the matter, sir, as far as we can make out. She doesn’t seem to be taking in any water.”
“That’s well!” exclaimed the captain, after the two men had saluted and gone forward. “It’s barely possible that the ship may not be much damaged, after all, although it seems almost incredible. However, we won’t find any fault with providence if it isn’t.”
Strange as it may seem, by what appeared to be almost a miracle the ship had come off from the encounter with a few bent bow plates and the loss of considerable paint.
Before long the ship had resumed its course, and the iceberg was falling rapidly to the rear. Bert had been the only person in the vessel’s bows at the time of the collision, and he was soon encircled by a group of athletes anxious to hear the story.
“Believe me, fellows,” he said, in a sober voice, “I gave us all up for lost. I thought our goose had been cooked, sure. Why, that ’berg looked as high as a mountain to me, and if we had hit it head-on it would have been all over but the shouting. It’s a lucky thing the captain got warning in time to veer the steamer around a little.”
Everybody realized that they had had a very close escape from death, and for the rest of the day little else was talked about. It was just such a collision as had been responsible for the speedy sinking of the great linerTitanicwith over twothousand souls on board. That ship had struck a glancing blow, in the same way that theNorthlandhad, but was less fortunate as to the result. A great projecting sliver of ice had penetrated the ill-fated vessel’s hull, and within a few hours she was lying at the bottom of the sea. Indeed, at the present moment they were but a short distance from the leviathan’s last resting place, and this made them realize all the more strongly what a miraculous escape they had had.
Needless to say, every precaution was taken to insure against a repetition of their recent experience, and the ship fairly crawled along at one-quarter speed. They sighted other ’bergs at intervals, but never near enough to give them any concern, and a day or so later were safely out of the danger zone. Then Captain Everett ordered full speed resumed, and theNorthlandbegan to plow through the blue water at its customary good clip.
Training, which had been more or less interrupted by the recent exciting events, was resumed in good earnest, and everybody worked with a will to make up for lost time. Reddy had an eye for every athlete on board, and woe betide the man who was found shirking, even in the slightest degree. He was sure to be forced to make up his deficiencies, with some extra hard training “stunt” for good measure.
The second day after the encounter with the iceberg the sky became very overcast, and bore every sign of an approaching storm. The haze veiling the heavens became thicker and thicker, and the sun could be seen shining through it only at rare intervals, and then very faintly.
The barometer fell lower and lower, and there was every evidence of the approach of a severe storm. Nor were these warnings groundless, as they soon had occasion to find out.
Everything aboard ship was made ready, and no movable object on the decks was left unsecured. The athletes regarded the approach of the storm with feelings more of interest than anything else, but Reddy snorted his disgust.
“Everything’s agin’ me,” he growled. “This trip so far has been nothin’ but a bunch o’ queer experiences that you could write a story book about, maybe, but that don’t count for more than a plugged nickel when it comes to gettin’ a bunch o’ would-be athletes in shape to make better speed than the runners at a fat men’s picnic. I just get things settled down and begin to kid meself that we’re gettin’ somewhere, when we go and bump into an iceberg, or some other fool stunt o’ that kind. But if these fellers don’t cop a few lovin’ cups and medals over at the games it isn’t goin’ to be the iceberg that gets the blame, you can lay to that. Nix! Everybody’ll say, ‘Gee, I bet oldUncle Sam’s runners and jumpers would have made good if only they’d had a decent sort of a trainer along that knew a little about his job.’ That’s the line of chatter that’ll be handed out to me, all right. This trainin’ business is a thankless job, anyway, let me tell you. If the American team wins, they get all the glory and credit, but if they lose, it’s yours truly that gets the blame.”
“Aw, don’t you worry yourself about us, Reddy,” said Drake, “we’re going to win every event over there, practically, and after watching our wonderful work you ought to realize that fact,” and he grinned.
“Oh, sure,” replied Reddy, sarcastically. “If you boys win all you think you’re goin’ to win, I won’t kick. But I’m from the wilds of Missouri, and I’ve got to be shown.”
Discussion of this sort lasted until the lunch bell rang, when there was a wild dive to the tables, all disputes forgotten.
After lunch, when they returned on deck, they were surprised at the appearance of the ocean. The wind, which before they went below had been blowing in fitful gusts, had now settled down to a steady gale that was increasing in violence with every hour that passed. The sea was rising rapidly, and already was dotted here and there with whitecaps. The sun had entirely disappeared, and the sky was a dull gray color.Clouds scudded across it with terrific speed, giving an indication of the force of the wind back of them, and as the boys gazed across the tumbling waves they every one felt a thrill of something very much like apprehension.
There is something very terrifying and awe-compelling about a storm at sea, especially to those not used to it. At such time a ship seems a very small thing in the great expanse of tumbling billows and shrieking wind, and it seems almost impossible that anything constructed by man can withstand Nature’s fury.
Soon the storm became so wild that most of the passengers retired below, and many of them experienced sea-sickness for the first time on the voyage, as the ship was now pitching and rolling wildly. Bert, Dick and Tom, however, stayed on deck, and felt that nothing could hire them to go down. This was an experience such as they might not have again in many a year, and they felt inclined to make the most of it.
They stayed on deck until supper time, and then went below. Several athletes were absent from the tables, and of those who were there many ate very sparingly. Not one would admit that this was due to sea-sickness, however, and indeed, there was less of this than might naturally have been expected.
They were all in such fine physical conditionthat they were less affected by such an experience than the average passenger, and there were few of them who were actually “down and out.”
The storm lasted two days, but on the morning of the third day had practically blown itself out. When the three comrades went up on deck the sun was shining gloriously, but the ocean was still very rough. In a few hours it had subsided noticeably, but the great billows still ran fifteen or twenty feet high. It was a wonderful sight, and one to be remembered for a lifetime. The boys gazed spellbound, and felt they would have been contented to do nothing all day but drink in the inspiring scene.
Shortly after they got on deck the lookout cried, “Ship ho!” and the boys followed the direction of his pointing finger. At first they could make out nothing, but in a few minutes they glimpsed a vessel lifted up on the crest of a monster wave, and about a mile from their course.
As they drew nearer it became evident that the vessel was a partial or entire wreck. She had been a three-masted schooner, as they could tell from the stumps of the masts projecting from her deck, but they had all gone by the board.
One was still fastened to the ship by a mass of tangled rigging, and every once in a while would be washed against the side with a crash.The vessel was low in the water, and it was evident that she was sinking.
TheNorthland’scourse was altered so as to bring her alongside the dismantled vessel, and the athletes, every one of whom by this time was on deck, crowded to the rail, to get a closer glimpse of the wreck.
It was indeed a scene of awful wreckage on which they gazed. The gale had played havoc with the unfortunate vessel, and what with the aid of the mighty waves had almost completely demolished it. The bulwarks were battered and broken, where the masts had crushed them in falling overboard. Broken and splintered planks strewed the deck, and everything was bound together by tangled masses of cordage. The bridge had been torn from its fastenings at one end, and sagged down to the deck. All the davits were empty, with the exception of two in which boats were still hanging. The reason for this was plain, as they both had huge holes stove in their planking, and could not possibly have been repaired in less than several days.
Altogether it presented a sad spectacle, and bore mute testimony to the terrific violence of the storm through which they had just passed. There was no sign of life on board, but nevertheless Captain Everett decided to send a boat to investigate, on the off chance of picking upsome wounded or sick person who might have been overlooked in the last mad launching of the boats.
Accordingly, a boat was lowered, and certain members of the crew told off to man her. “Gee!” exclaimed Tom, who with Dick, Bert, and most of the other athletes, was an interested spectator of these proceedings, “I’d give ’bout ten years of my life to be able to go with them. I don’t suppose there’s any chance of that, though, hang it!”
“Not a chance in the world,” replied Bert, but then he hesitated a minute, and said, “But wait, hold on a minute. I may be able to get us on, after all.”
“How are you going to do it?” questioned Dick, incredulously, but already Bert was making a bee-line for the captain.
When he could get Captain Everett’s attention he asked to be allowed to visit the wreck with his two companions. At first he would not even listen, but Bert begged so hard that he finally consented.
“Very well,” he answered, rather dubiously, “I suppose I’ll have to let you go, but just the same I wish you had asked some other favor. However, I don’t suppose any very great harm can come from it, so you have my permission, Wilson. I am trusting you to be careful and notendanger the lives of you or your two companions.”
“Thanks awfully,” said Bert, “and you may rest assured that we will take every precaution,” and Bert turned and raced back to his companions.
“It’s all right, fellows!” he yelled. “The captain says we can go, and everything’s settled. Make out I’m not the champion little fixer of this crowd of rescuing heroes.”
“You sure are,” admitted Dick. “We’ve got to hand it to you. But tell us the magic word. Let us in on the secret, and tell us how you did it.”
“Oh, I’ll tell you all about it later on,” replied Bert. “I haven’t time now, because they’re holding the boat for us as it is.”
Captain Everett, true to his promise, had given orders to the crew to take the three comrades with them, and they awaited their arrival with much impatience. They had not long to wait, however, for in another few seconds the three had raced across the deck at a pace that did credit to their training, and tumbled into the boat. Then the sailors gave way with a will.
The graceful boat fairly flew over the ocean, which by this time had become much smoother. Occasionally some wave higher than the rest would dash against the sides and send a silveryshower of spray over them, and without careful seamanship it would have been no very difficult matter to swamp the frail craft.
However, they reached the wreck without mishap, and then the question arose as to the best way to board the hulk. The splintered mast washing against the side of the ship nearest to their own vessel made it impossible to land on that side, so they rowed around under the stern of the wreck. Here her name was printed in prominent black letters: theMary Carpenter, of New York. Continuing to the other side, they had small difficulty in picking up a trailing rope and making their little boat fast. Then, one after the other, they went up the rope hand over hand until all the crew were on the littered deck with the exception of one sailor who was left to take care of the boat. The boys had no choice but to follow suit, but they tackled the feat with many misgivings. It is not as easy a thing as it may sound to climb hand over hand up a slippery cable, with a seething ocean below, and the ship to which the rope is attached jerking and plunging in every direction. Fortunately, their nerve and good training enabled them to negotiate the perilous passage without accident, and they were soon standing on the deck of the wreck.
Mr. Pollard, the officer commanding the expedition, led the way, picking his way over piledand tumbled wreckage that told its own story of storm and destruction.
He made directly for the cabin, followed by the others. As they neared it they could distinguish a muffled barking, and Dick exclaimed, “Well, what do you know about that, fellows! They’ve left in such a hurry that they’ve left their dog behind. It begins to look as though we might have a chance to rescue something, anyway.”
“Doesn’t it, though?” said Tom, and the boys could hardly restrain their eagerness to break open the door imprisoning the unfortunate animal.
They were not long in reaching it, but found the door blocked, apparently by some heavy object inside. Several of the sailors set their brawny shoulders against the door, however, and it burst inward with a crash. From the opening dashed a big white bulldog, running full tilt into Tom and fairly knocking him off his feet.
“For the love of Mike!” exclaimed Tom, as he picked himself up, “what hit me anyway? Was it an elephant, or what?”
As soon as the others could recover from their laughter, they began making overtures to the dog, who had rushed up into the bows and now regarded them suspiciously. “Poor old fellow,” said Bert, “I guess he thought the end ofthe world had come, or something equally bad. He doesn’t seem to like our looks very much now, though, does he?”
“Well, if he does, he conceals his feelings very successfully,” said Dick. “He may become better tempered, though, when he sees that we’re trying to introduce ourselves properly.”
Indeed, the dog seemed more frightened than vicious, and presently began to wag his tail feebly. After much coaxing he came toward them, and Bert ventured to pat his head. The dog licked his hand affectionately, and wagged his tail, or what he called his tail, as hard as he knew how. “Say, fellows,” said Bert, seized by a sudden inspiration, “let’s take him back with us and make him our mascot. I have a feeling that he’ll bring us all the luck in the world.”
“Great idea,” agreed Tom and Dick, and adopted the ship-wrecked one forthwith. The suggestion of a sailor that he hadn’t brought much luck to the vessel on which he was found fell on deaf ears, and the boys returned to the search of the ship, followed unquestioningly by their latest acquisition.
Inside the dark cabin everything was in a confused state fitly matching that of objects outside. The berths were tumbled, and the bed-coverings were strewn about the floor. A small iron safe set in flush with the wall was open, and empty.A few stray coins were scattered here and there about the floor, and the first comers pounced eagerly on these, to save as souvenirs. A further search failed to reveal the ship’s log or any of her papers, but of course this was not to be wondered at, as only in a case of the most dire peril will a commander leave his vessel without these.
There were three other state-rooms opening out of the main cabin, but after they had been thoroughly ransacked nothing of any value was found in them.
“Well, men,” said Mr. Pollard, “I guess there’s no use in staying here any longer. Evidently there’s no living soul on board, and as far as I can see there seems to be nothing worth taking away.”
Accordingly, after one last glance around the forlorn cabin, they had turned and were preparing to go on deck, when they were startled by a shout from above and the man who had been left to take care of the small boat poked his shaggy head inside the door.
“You’d better make haste, sir,” he exclaimed, in an excited voice, addressing Mr. Pollard, “this old tub’s settling fast, sir, and I think she’s about due to go under in something less than a quarter of an hour.”
Accordingly Mr. Pollard gave the order toreturn to their boat, but the words had hardly left his mouth when the wreck gave a sickening lunge, and the face of more than one in the little party went pale.
“Step lively, now, men!” ordered the officer, in a tense voice. He had no need to repeat his order, for the ship began to list over at a sharp angle, and the men broke into a run. The sight that met their eyes as they leaped up the stairs to the deck was terrifying. When they had gone below, the deck had been perhaps four feet above the water, but now it was almost level with the waves at its highest part, and where it had listed over the water was lapping above the boards.
A shout went up from the sailors, and they made a wild dash for the boat. Into it they tumbled, pell mell, and last of all came the three boys and Mr. Pollard. They leaped into the boat without selecting their landing place very carefully, and those nearest the oars snatched them up and began pulling for dear life. They were not in unison, however, and the boat fairly crawled away from the side of the doomed vessel. It seemed like some horrible nightmare, in which deadly peril is seen approaching, but from which the sleeper is unable to escape. Fortunately, both Dick and Bert had managed to get hold of an oar on opposite sides of the boat, andthey at least kept their heads and worked together.
They knew that if the wreck sank before they got one or two hundred feet from it, the whole boat load would be drawn under by the suction. They tugged and pulled desperately, and gradually, aided to some extent by the cooler of the crew, drew away from the dangerous vicinity. In their excitement they had forgotten the poor dog, but now they were reminded of his presence by seeing him come to a broken place in the bulwarks and gaze after them with beseeching barks and whines.
Dick looked at Bert, but the latter shook his head. “No, we can’t take a chance and go back for him, Dick,” he said, “it would be staking all our lives against that of a dog. We’ll have to leave him, that’s all.”
“Gee, but I hate to do that,” exclaimed Tom, “maybe we can get him to follow us,” and he started whistling to the dog.
The animal seemed uncertain what to do, but after giving one despairing glance around at the dismantled deck, he appeared to make up his mind, and plunged boldly overboard. Those in the boat would have liked to wait for him, but they dare not. They were not yet at a safe distance, and the wreck was going down fast now. She was listed considerably to port, and theycould see the waves washing further and further up the sloping deck.
Slowly, slowly, the unfortunate schooner settled, causing little ripples and eddies in the water surrounding it, which by this time was almost calm. Now almost half the deck was under water, and then the stern gradually rose in the air, while the bows pointed downward into the green depths. Slowly, deliberately, she slid under the waves, and one more proud ship was added to the ocean’s heavy toll.
A deep sigh went up from those in the little boat, partly of thankfulness at their own escape, and partly of sorrow over the fate of the wrecked schooner.
The poor bull dog had disappeared, and the boys gave him up for lost. Suddenly Tom cried, “Look, fellows, look! He must have been dragged under by the suction, but I just saw him come up!”
Sure enough, over the spot where the ship had gone down they could see a little white speck bobbing up and down.
“Give way, men!” ordered Mr. Pollard, “we might as well pick the plucky little scamp up. It’s easy to seehe’sno quitter.”
The men were nothing loth, and were soon alongside the game little swimmer. Tom leaned over the side, and grasping him by the scruff ofhis neck, pulled him safely inboard. The dog feebly licked his hand, but then lay in a little dejected heap in the bottom of the boat, panting heavily.
“Well, old sport, fate has certainly been handing you a rather rough deal lately, hasn’t she?” asked Bert, addressing the dog, and was answered by a faint wag of the stubby tail.
“We’ll have to give him a name, I suppose,” said Dick, “what shall we call him fellows? Suggest something.”
This was a serious matter, for of course a mascot has got to have an appropriate name. ‘Sport,’ ‘Nero,’ ‘Prince,’ and many others were proposed, but were finally rejected in favor of Bingo, which had a college flavor and seemed to suit him very well.
By the time this question had been settled they had reached theNorthland, and were soon on board. Last of all Bingo was hoisted over the side, and introduced to the assembled athletes as the team mascot. He was received with the greatest enthusiasm, and immediately proceeded to make friends with everybody.
“I always thought we’d clean things up at the Olympics,” remarked Drake, “but now I feel more certain of it than ever. The only thing we lacked is now supplied. I must confess, now that the trial is past, that having no mascot haskept me awake many a night and seriously affected my appetite,” he said, with a grin.
“Gee, if anything has been affecting your appetite, Drake,” said one of the others, “I’d like to see you when you were in first class shape and could really eat. I think this bally old hooker would be out of grub in less than a week.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right, pick on me, just because I’m small and weak,” grinned Drake, who was something like six feet two inches tall, and weighed a hundred and ninety-five pounds, “why don’t you go and get some poor victim of your own size once in a while.”
“Gee, it must be awful to be feeble and puny the way you are, Drake,” laughed Bert, “you certainly do arouse my pity. What you need is a tonic to build you up.”
“Yes,” chimed in Tom, “poor Drake’s fading fast. All he could do to-day was to throw the discus a measly little hundred and thirty feet and a fraction. That sure is an indication of falling powers.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed how he’s weakening,” remarked Axtell. “Why, he hasn’t got anything at all on that discus except a mile a minute speed and a world of strength. Otherwise he’s certainly all in.”
Drake stood all this chaffing with a good natured grin, for he was in such good conditionthat he could afford to have people joke about it. He had been doing better and better all the time, and nobody on board had the slightest doubt that he would break all records at the coming Olympic.
He was really a marvel of strength, but some of the sailors on board, while they admitted that “the big guy could sure throw that plate around” still believed that at least one of their number had the ‘goods’ on him. They pinned their faith on a big, red haired Irishman of their number, who had won fame in many a rough and tumble battle, and swore that no ‘college guy’ who ever lived could throw him. The athletes had equal faith in Drake, however, and knew that he had at one time taken considerable interest in scientific wrestling. This fact, combined with his phenomenal strength, made them certain he could throw the big sailor.
For some time there had been considerable controversy between the athletes and the crew, all in a good natured strain, however. The sailors were anxious to pit their champion against Drake, but the latter had felt that such a contest would interfere with his training, and so had held off.
That morning, however, the big Irish sailor had made a vaunting remark that had “gotten Drake’s goat,” and made the big fellow resolve to bring matters to an issue once and for all.
He confided his resolve to Bert and a few chosen pals, and they were glad to hear it, for the crew had all along adopted a skeptical attitude toward the athletes, and referred to them more than once as the “college kids.”
Accordingly they decided to challenge the big sailor that very night, and Dick was intrusted with the task. They decided to meet the man (Donahue by name), on his own terms, so that afterward the sailors could have no possible grounds of complaint.
In pursuance of this plan Dick went forward to the sailors’ quarters immediately after supper, and found Donahue and some of his friends lying in their berths smoking black clay pipes and swapping yarns, as was their custom off watch, when they felt strong enough to stand the strain.
“And phwat’s the matter now, young felly?” inquired Donahue, when he saw Dick coming down the ladder. “Sit down awhile and make yersilf comfortable. I was jist goin’ to tell my mates o’ the time Oi was wrecked on a cannibal island an’ married the chief’s daughter, an——”
But here Dick interrupted him. “I’m afraid I won’t have time to listen just now,” he said. “I’ve come from my friend Drake (the discus thrower, you know), and he wants me to say that he thinks he can throw the best wrestler you’ve got here, bar none.”
“Oh, he does, does he?” growled Donahue, “all right, me bye, you just go back and tell him that Oi’m ready for him any minute of the day, or night too fer that matter. How does he want to run the match? Under a lot o’ fancy rules, Oi suppose.”
“Not on your tintype,” replied Dick, warmly, “this is to be catch as catch can, and the best man wins. You haven’t any objection to that, have you?”
“Divil a bit,” said the sailor, “thim terms suits me all right. What do ye say mates? When shall we run off the match?”
“What would be the matter with to-morrow evening right after supper?” inquired Dick, “you might as well take your licking then as any other time, Donahue, and get the agony over with.”
“Lickin’, is ut?” said the big Irishman, grimly. “Lickin’ it may be, but it won’t be me as gets it, you can lay to that. Bring on your man after supper to-morrow evenin’ at about this time, and Oi’ll stretch me muscles a little before goin’ to sleep. Me heart’s full o’ pity for your man, though. It seems a shame to do ut,” and he grinned and gave a tremendous and elaborate yawn.
“All right, we’ll be here,” replied Dick, “only if you’ve got any sympathy to spare, I’d advisesaving it for your own private use. You’ll need plenty of it.”
“Well, that’s as may be,” replied Donahue, and after settling a few more details Dick left.
Returning to his companions, he acquainted them with the result of his mission, and Drake expressed himself as perfectly satisfied with the conditions.
“I don’t anticipate much trouble,” he said. “I guess there’s no doubt but what that harp is pretty strong, but its simply a matter of muscle against brain, and muscle doesn’t usually make out very well in that case.”
“Yes, but you’ve got to be mighty careful,” warned Dick. “That sailor is one of the strongest men I ever saw, and is capable of giving you a good deal of trouble. I’ll be much surprised if he doesn’t give you a mighty hard tussle.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that for a minute,” replied Drake, “still I think I have the goods on him. We won’t have to wait very long to find out, that’s sure.”
After a little further discussion in the same vein the boys dispersed for the night.
Of course, Reddy had gathered a pretty good idea of what was going forward, and at first he had decided to interfere, but later changed his mind. “I guess it won’t hurt the boy,” he reflected, “he’s tough as a piece of armor plate,and it may do him good to give his muscles a good work out. There’s nothing like a little excitement once in a while to tone a man up and put him in the pink of condition.”
Accordingly Reddy “winked his other eye,” as the saying goes, and let the boys go on with their preparations unmolested.
The next day passed quietly, and the athletes spent it profitably in unbroken training exercises, and Reddy felt that they were rounding into form in a manner to suit even his critical eye. He watched the runners circling the track, the jumpers practising, and last, but not least, the discus and hammer throwers hurling the heavy weights from the stern of the ship. His sharp eye watched Drake’s performance with particular care, but the latter showed no sign of concern over the coming contest, and laughed and joked with the others as though nothing unusual were in the wind. At his last attempt he gave an unusually savage heave to the heavy disc, and it sailed far out over the shining, sparkling water. The cord attached to it whizzed through the air, and when pulled in the plate was found to have traveled one hundred and thirty-two feet flat.
“Good for you, Drake. That’s the kind of stuff I want to see!” exclaimed the trainer, and Drake flushed a little with pleasure. Reddy gaveso little praise that when he did speak well of any performance his words had a double value. Which was perhaps his object. Who knows?
“Well, it wasn’t so bad, I suppose,” said Drake, “but I guess I’ll rest on my laurels now, and take it easy the rest of the day. I’ll bet any money that before we get to Berlin I’ll be crowding the record for all its worth, though.”
“Maybe so, maybe so,” growled Reddy, who seemed to regret his praise, “but you’ve got to keep plugging, and plugging hard, if you expect to do it. That’s the trouble with a lot of athletes, and a good many others who aren’t athletes; they quit just when the goal’s in sight, and lose all their effort for nothing. It’s usually the last few yards of a race that are the hardest, and it’s then that the quitting streak shows up in a lot of people.”
“Well, I’m not going to quit,” said Drake, a little resentfully.
“I know that, me boy,” replied Reddy, in a softer voice. “Me little sermon wasn’t meant for you.”
One of the hammer throwers created a diversion here, by getting his string tangled in the bulwarks, and not noticing it until he had hurled the heavy missile. Before it had traveled half its distance it reached the end of the cord, which snapped like a cobweb under the weight. “Goodnight,” exclaimed the thrower, gazing ruefully at the frazzled end of the cord as it whipped inboard, “there’s a hammer gone to visit Davy Jones, all right.”
“Gee!” laughed Tom, who was sitting near, “I hope it doesn’t hit the old gentleman on the head. He may not appreciate the gift, if it did.”
“I wouldn’t blame him much for feeling peeved,” said Dick, “it wouldn’t be the most comfortable thing in the world to have that drop in on you unexpected-like. I think the old sport would have right on his side, myself.”
“I think you’re right, Dick,” said Bert, “and I think that to atone for the insult we ought to throw old Snyder overboard. What do you think, fellows? It might keep Dave from wreaking his vengeance on the whole ship. A stitch in time saves nine, you know.”
“Overboard with him,” yelled the laughing group, but Drake held up his hand in silence.
“You seem to forget, fellows,” he said, in a solemn voice, “that as yet we’re not absolutely certain that the old gentleman has been hit. I suggest, therefore, that we spare Snyder until Mr. Jones calls for him in person. Then we will hand him over without protest, of course, in fact, gladly.”
“Oh, well, I suppose we might as well postpone the pleasure, seeing that you suggest it,”said Bert. “It’s a big disappointment, though.”
Accordingly the boys solemnly agreed to spare Snyder’s life for the time being, and the baited hammer thrower went forward to get a new hammer from the reserve supply.
He soon returned, and this time was more careful of his string before letting fly. He showed well in the practice, and Reddy was well pleased with his work. “I guess he’ll do,” he thought to himself, “he’s getting slowly better all the time, and that’s what I like to see. These ‘phenoms’ aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. They show up well for a while, and then like as not they go all to pieces. I’ll take a chance on a good, steady, hard working man every time. They’re the ones you can count on in the pinches.”
Practice went on without further interruption until lunch time, and everybody did ample justice to the well cooked meal. The constant exercise, combined with the invigorating sea air, gave them appetites that it took much to satisfy, and which caused wondering comment in the galley.
“Zey eat more zan I zink possible,” the little French chef had exclaimed at the beginning of the voyage, with uplifted hands. “I cook an’ cook, and still zey have not too much. Mon Dieu! Zey will drive me—wat you call heem—bughouse. Eet is no wondaire zey are strong.”
In one way the little cook was not displeased,however, for at any rate he could complain of no lack of appreciation of his cooking.
After everything had been demolished the athletes repaired to the deck, and did whatever pleased them for a couple of hours. Some played deck games, while others were content to read or gaze out idly over the sparkling blue ocean. The weather was ideal, and since the storm that had wrecked the schooner hardly a cloud had appeared in the sky. Bingo appreciated the fair weather immensely, and began to get his looks back, which had suffered somewhat under his recent hardships. He was now firmly intrenched in the affections of every athlete on board, and had been accepted unreservedly as their mascot.
He was friendly with everybody, but his real affection seemed divided between Bert, Tom and Dick. He always followed them around, and evidently considered them his especial guardians, as they had been his rescuers.
They in turn saw that he had plenty to eat, and made a great pet of him generally. He seemed to take a deep interest in everything that went on, and would watch the boys training with the wisest look imaginable on his doggish face.
This particular afternoon he was not in sight, however, when Dick and Bert went to hunt up Drake. They found him finally, stretched out ina steamer chair, and reading a book as though he had nothing in the world on his mind.
“Sit down, fellows, and take a load off your feet,” he said, as Bert and Dick came up, “what’s the good word this afternoon?”
“Oh, there’s nothing particular doing,” replied Bert, as he took his seat on the edge of the rail, balancing back and forth with the motion of the ship at imminent risk of being spilled into the ocean, “it seems like the calm preceding the storm.”
“By storm meaning to-night, I suppose,” said Drake smiling, “but I’m not worrying about it, so why should you?”
“Well, I suppose we don’t need to, in that case,” replied Bert. “I’m glad you feel so sure about it, though. Do you feel in good shape?”
“Never better in my life,” replied Drake, with a tremendous yawn. “I’m just debating in my mind whether to kill this audacious seaman or just put him on the sick list for a week or two.”
“Gee, you just about hate yourself, don’t you Drake?” asked Bert, and they all laughed.
“Just the same you want to be watching all the time,” said Bert, “the way this fellow is used to wrestling, everything goes, and you want to look out for fouls. That’s the thing that’s worrying me.”
“Never fear,” replied Drake, “I used to takelessons from a man who knew the game backward, fair tricks and foul. He taught me a lot while I was with him, and I guess I’ll know what to expect. And fore-warned is fore-armed, you know.”
“Well, that was all I was afraid of,” said Bert. “I haven’t a doubt in the world that you are more than a match for him when it comes to straight wrestling. I’m not so awfully flabby myself, but I know you always manage to put me down.”
“Oh, that’s just because it’s out of your line,” replied Drake, “mere brute strength doesn’t count so very much in wrestling. It’s like boxing, or baseball, or anything else; it’s head work that is the deciding factor.”
“All right, old sock, get to it then,” said Bert, “don’t be afraid to eat plenty of beef steak for supper to-night. That’s the stuff will pull you through.”
“Right you are!” returned Drake. “I’ll be all right, all-right. There’ll be nothing to it, take it from me.”
“Well, that’s what we like to hear,” said Bert, reassured as he and Dick strolled away. They could talk of little else the rest of the afternoon, and became more and more excited as the appointed time drew near. At supper their usual appetites were not in evidence, and for the firsttime since they left port they failed to give the excellent meal the attention it deserved.
Supper despatched, they hunted up Drake, and together with Tom talked with him until it was close to eight o’clock. Then they walked forward, and descended to the seamen’s quarters. At intervals other athletes, who had been ‘let in’ on the secret, kept dropping in, until a goodly company had arrived.
“Well, ye’re on toime, Oi see,” remarked Donahue, “and how do ye feel, youngster?” addressing Drake. “Are ye ready to have yer back broke?”
“About the same as you are, I guess,” replied Drake, nonchalantly, and his companions grinned. It was evident that their candidate was without fear, at any rate.
The preliminaries were soon arranged, and Drake and the sailor faced each other at opposite extremities of a cleared space perhaps twenty feet square. Bert had been selected to act as second for Drake, and a big Swede, Olsen by name, had been nominated as Donahue’s second. Both Drake and the sailor were dressed in gray flannel shirts and short athletic trunks, and under this thin covering their splendid physical development could be plainly seen.
Donahue’s muscles were knotted and bunched, while Drake’s lay flatter and were much lessprominent. To the untrained eye the sailor seemed much the stronger of the two, but Bert knew better. Otherwise they were much the same height and weight, and there seemed little to choose between them.
The referee gave the starting signal, and Drake and the seaman approached each other warily, each stepping lightly as a cat. In spite of their boasting before the contest, each man realized that he would have all he could do to win, and they were careful accordingly. At first they circled agilely round and round, each seeking for a favorable opening. Suddenly Drake sprang in, but before he could secure the hold he wanted, the nimble sailor had leaped aside, and for a few seconds they stood looking at each other. Then the wary circling began again, but this time it was Donahue who rushed in. He was more fortunate than Drake, and secured a hold. Drake also got a good grip on him, however, and for a moment they stood quiet, gathering their strength for the real struggle. Then with a sudden giant heave Donahue sought to lift his adversary off his feet, but Drake was as supple as a snake, and with a convulsive movement tore himself out of the sailor’s grasp and sprang free. Donahue was after him in a trice, and again they grappled, but this time it was Drake who got the better hold. With a heaveand a lunge he lifted his giant opponent entirely clear of the floor, and sent him crashing down on his side. He followed up his advantage like a flash, but in spite of his great bulk the sailor was very quick, and had recovered somewhat, so that, try as he might, Drake was unable to put him on his back. Finally he was forced to give up the attempt, and the seaman sprang to his feet. They were about to engage again when the referee stepped in and declared a short time for rest. Both men were panting heavily, and were evidently in need of it.