CHAPTER EIGHTEENA TEST
Vernon Goodwin had a relapse that night, and for the next few days Nancy feared they had learned all from him they would ever know. In the meantime, however, glorious news was brought back from the fighting front. The great number of reinforcing troops had finished the job for which they had come. The last nest of “Yellow Jackets” had been cleaned from the island.
This news called for such a celebration as the nurses had not had since July Fourth, for their work had lightened somewhat. Planes had taken some of their serious cases back to hospitals in Australia. Even when the wounded were brought in after the final victory there were still some beds unoccupied, so the nurses found a few hours out of every twenty-four to give to personal needs once more, and a bit of recreation.
But Nancy had little heart for amusement during those trying days. She could think of nothing but Vernon Goodwin lying at the point of death, and that Tommy might be alive still, somewhere in that jungle a day’s boat ride to the north.
“Ah, snap out of it, Nancy,” wheedled Mabel, the afternoon before the party when she came upon her pal sitting on her cot, staring into space. “We’ve all decided to put on our whites for the shindig. It will be good for the morale of the patients to see us looking like real nurses for once.”
“We’ll only make ourselves targets for the Zeros that come over.”
“Can’t you realize yet they’ve cleared out those Yellow Jackets! We’ve got something to celebrate over.”
“I’m really tired, Mabel,” said Nancy, stretching out on her cot. “I honestly don’t feel like going up to the mess hall to the party.”
“Oh, but honey, you can’t miss it! I’ll tell you something as an inducement. We have a surprise. Some of the Fuzzy Wuzzies are going to put on a special ceremonial dance—the kind they use to celebrate their own victories.”
These island natives had been most valuable in bringing back the wounded from the fighting front. Ned Holbrook, one of Nancy’s patients, who had a broken back, had been brought out by them on a litter.
“They were as careful with me as any mother,” Ned told her. “They saved my life, Nancy, that’s sure! I never could have stood the jolting of our ambulance over those corduroy roads.”
Nancy had read many articles in the magazinesand papers of Australia about the Fuzzy Wuzzies, and the help they had been to the Allies, but she had to see them in action to appreciate their amazing gentleness and value. It seemed incredible that these dark-skinned men, who looked so savage, with their bushy heads, and their bodies naked except for loin cloths, could make such good hospital aides. She had often wondered how they acted in their native villages, and she knew the ceremonial dance would be something to remember always.
“The last plane that came out from Australia,” explained Mabel, “brought some packages from the Red Cross for us to give the native helpers. We opened one just to see what they contained. Boy, will those Fuzzies be thrilled!”
“What’s in them?”
“Each one had a loin cloth and a new girdle, a string of beads, a bracelet, an ornamental hair pin and a package of cigarettes.” Mabel laughed. “I still can’t get used to those men wearing fancy hair pins.”
“I’m sure they’re meant more for service than ornamentation,” replied Nancy. “Yesterday a couple of Fuzzies came in with a litter. As soon as we had the wounded man on the bed they sat down on the ground nearby and began scratching their woolly heads with those pins.”
“When they start that I always give them a wide berth. I don’t relish the idea of any of the inhabitants of those bushy mops jumping on me.” Mabelscratched her head at the very idea, then added, “But it will be fun watching the dance and seeing them get the packages.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to miss it,” said Nancy ruefully, as she yawned and stretched on the cot.
Mabel pulled the mosquito net aside and wheedled, “Ah, come on, lazy bones!”
She caught Nancy’s hand to pull her off the cot, then stopped suddenly. “Your hand’s hot as fire!” she exclaimed. “Nancy, you’re sick.”
“Not so loud. Somebody will hear. I’m afraid I have malaria. I’ve already started taking quinine. Think I had a chill on the ward just now.”
“And you stuck it out—you numskull?”
“Please, Mabel, don’t talk so loud. Somebody will hear. They may even send me back if they find I have malaria. I’m going to doctor myself and knock it out.”
“When that bug gets a grip on you it’s not so easy as you think.”
“Please don’t tell anyone, Mabel. It would be awful to be sent away right now, just as I’m about to get on Tommy’s track.”
“Of course—if you don’t want me to. If you’re not better in a day or two, though, you’ve got to see one of the doctors.”
When the nurses, who shared their outdoor quarters, started off to the mess hall in white Nancy said wistfully, “It sure makes me think of home, seeing you all in regulations.”
Mabel placed a glass of fruit juice on a box under Nancy’s net before leaving, and ordered her to sleep. The girls had been gone only a few minutes when Nancy dropped into a feverish sleep. She was roused some time later by sounds of the Fuzzy Wuzzies’ ceremonial drums. She went to sleep again with them ringing in her ears, and didn’t rouse till dawn. She was wet with perspiration and realized her fever had burned itself out. Though she was weak and her head ringing from quinine, she got into her clothes and went on duty. She knew she would have forty-eight hours before a chill gripped her again, if her heavy doses of quinine were not sufficient yet to knock it out.
How glad she was afterward that she did force herself to go on duty. As she entered the ward to take Shorty’s place, her little friend said, “Vernon woke during the night and asked for you.”
“Why didn’t you send for me?”
“Mabel wouldn’t let me. She said you were all in. But he’s much better this morning—ate some breakfast.”
Nancy waited for no more, but hurried to the gunner’s bed. He was finishing some cereal, and gave her a wan smile as she drew near.
“That’s the way you must eat,” commented Nancy, taking his emptied mess kit. “You’ll get well now.”
“I believe I will, Miss Nancy. I may yet be able to point out that island where we left Tom.”
“Oh, if you only could, Vernon!”
“I believe I could. Though a gunner doesn’t bother his head with where he’s going—got enough to think about to hit the targets, but I do remember something about how that island looked from the air, and I sure had to pay attention to directions when we were leaving in that rubber boat.”
“Is it due north from here?” she asked.
“No, I’d say to the northeast.”
“Entirely surrounded by coral reefs?”
“As much as we saw. Passages here and there, large enough for small boats.”
Though Vernon’s voice was still cracked and weak Nancy could see he was able to coordinate his thoughts more easily than during their earlier conversations.
“Major Reed said a searching plane would be sent,” Nancy told him. “But of course we could do nothing while you were so ill.”
“Has it been very long?”
“Almost a week—a sort of reaction I suppose from our too vigorous efforts to bring you back. But you’re going to make it this time,” she assured him.
“Sorry I delayed things,” he apologized. “Poor Tom—if he’s still hanging on I guess he’s given up hope. How long has it been? I’ve lost track of time.”
“The government notified us that Tommy was missing in action on March second. This is September.”
Slowly Vernon Goodwin Gained Strength
Slowly Vernon Goodwin Gained Strength
Slowly Vernon Goodwin Gained Strength
“Lord!” Vernon groaned. “Miss Nancy, I don’t see how he could have made it till now. There wasn’t enough food.”
“But there would probably be fruits, coconuts, fish like we have on this island. Tommy would find some way to catch fish,” Nancy said, stubbornly clinging to her little shreds of hope.
It took all the will power she had to keep on her job that day, for she hadn’t realized how fever could sap one’s vitality. When she started back to her quarters in the late afternoon she stopped off to tell Major Reed what Vernon had said. As she talked an odd expression came into his face. She feared he had lost interest and would not push the searching expedition.
“I’m afraid Vernon Goodwin won’t be well enough to go with any searching party before we have to leave here.” Major Reed finally revealed what was on his mind.
Nancy’s pale face grew more wan. “Oh, Major Reed!”
“Our job here is almost finished. Planes can clear out the patients faster and faster now that Koshu has been taken. We can expect orders for a change at any time.”
Tired and ill as she was the news upset Nancy more than anything had since she first heard Tommy was missing. She took a grip on the tent pole to steady her wobbly knees.
Major Reed was aware of her condition and said, “You look actually ill, Nancy. Don’t drive yourself so hard—ease up a bit.” He turned away a minute and rummaged in a box of medicines. He found a bottle of golden pills and handed them to her. “Take these vitamins, two a day, till you get your pep back.”
Nancy thanked him and hesitated a moment, wondering if she ought to confess about the chill yesterday. She decided against it, however, feeling confident she could take care of herself. She was to wonder later if things might have been different had she spoken then.
Nancy’s second chill struck her the next morning before she was out of bed, and at the hour she should have reported for duty she was burning with fever. Mabel was scheduled to have the day off, so offered to take Nancy’s place. She would report Nancy in need of a day’s rest and otherwise keep silent. Their other dormitory companions were also asked not to betray her.
Nancy kept up her medicine and by dinner time that evening was feeling somewhat better. Hoping to evade too many inquiries she decided to appear at the mess hall with Mabel, Shorty and Ida. Shorty and Mabel were in high spirits and kept them laughing with funny stories about the Fuzzy Wuzzies throughout the meal, and Nancy’s morale mounted several degrees.
The four friends, who had grown so companionableduring these months of service, little dreamed that was the last meal they would have together on the other side of the world. But their routine came to an unexpected end just as they were leaving the mess hall.
Lieutenant Hauser rapped on the table and called out in her clear tone, “All nurses report for instructions just outside the mess hall.”
“Somethin’ cookin’!” Mabel said with conviction. “I’ve felt it all day.”
The nurses found Major Reed outside, standing beside Lieutenant Hauser under the palms.
“Orders have come through,” began the major, when he lifted his hand for attention.
Instantly the ripple of light talk ceased, and every ear became alert for the coming change.
“Half of us are to move up to open a new hospital. The rest will follow when this camp has been cleared of patients. The situation is now so well in hand that any on Koshu Island needing special treatment may be quickly flown out to larger bases.”
Nancy caught Mabel’s hand at this dreaded news. It threatened to shatter all her high hopes of an expedition to search for Tommy.
Mabel, fully aware of the cause of Nancy’s concern, whispered consolingly, “Maybe you’ll be allowed to stay behind and see it through.”
“I’m afraid no one will push the expedition unless I’m here,” she replied. “Especially if Vernon’s sentback to a base hospital.”
“The moving unit will be prepared to leave at once. The transport will stand by to pick us up at any hour now,” explained Major Reed. “The following nurses will leave for the new base.” He then proceeded to read a list of about twenty-five names.
When he called Mabel’s name Nancy clutched at her friend’s hand desperately. She had scarcely recovered from that shock before her own name was called. Weakened as she was with illness and fatigue she had to take a grip on herself to keep back the tears.
“You’re too sick now to make a change,” Mabel said, knowing how very much Nancy wanted to stay here. “I’m going to tell them you’ve been having chills.”
This was a real temptation to Nancy. A week or two longer on Koshu might make all the difference in the world where Tommy was concerned. But had she any right to put her own personal considerations ahead of this call to more dangerous service? They might even think she was using her illness or Tommy’s rescue as an excuse to cling to the safer work here on Koshu Island.
Her thoughts moved swiftly, but her decision was unshakable when she replied, “No, Mabel. I agreed to give myself to this work. I’ll go wherever they send me.”
CHAPTER NINETEENADRIFT
Change had always been stimulating to Nancy, but this time she found she could not shake off her depression even after she was aboard ship. Koshu Island was a safe haven she was reluctant to leave. In total darkness they went aboard the transport and in total darkness they moved out to sea again. This ship had detached itself from the convoy to pick up the nurses and several hundred troops. Perhaps by daylight they would again be part of a great flotilla.
The air on deck was cold after the tropical nights they had endured ashore. Nancy’s weakened condition made her super-sensitive to chill. She buttoned her overcoat tightly and turned up her collar, keeping her Mae West slung over her shoulder. Immediately on going aboard, and even before they were on the move, they had an abandon ship drill and became acquainted with the position of their lifeboats. Nancy’s and Mabel’s boat was number four, not more than fifty steps from the lounge where they were to spend the night.
There was not a bunk left on the tightly packed ship to assign to these last passengers. They weremerely super-cargo, picked up enroute to the ship’s destination. Since they expected to go ashore some time the following morning, their discomforts would not be too prolonged.
“I surely hate to leave,” said Mabel as Koshu Island became a dark smudge on the horizon. “Our life back there will be something to remember forever.”
As usual leave-takings were hard for Nancy, too. But most of all she had hated to say good-bye to Vernon Goodwin. He had brought Tommy so close to her once more. How she had hated to disturb him with the news of her departure! She had urged him to insist that they send out a searching plane as soon as he was able to go.
“I’ve made Major Reed promise to see it through,” Nancy told Vernon. “Now everything depends on your speedy recovery.”
“I’ll do my best,” he promised. “But I surely hate to see you go.”
“No more than I hate to go—with so much at stake here,” she replied. “But when you’re in the service it’s Uncle Sam who gives the orders.”
Vernon’s bony hand took hers a moment. “If it hadn’t been for you, Miss Nancy, I doubt if I would have come through.”
“The whole staff was pulling for you,” she reminded him.
He saw how frail and worried she looked, and tried to speak consolingly. “You go on to your new dutieswith an easy mind, Miss Nancy. I’ll give ’em no rest till a plane goes looking for Tom. We’ll bring him back if he’s still on that island.”
There were others, too, whom Nancy had left behind with real regret—Miss Hauser, Major Reed, Ida and Shorty were special favorites. Having Mabel with her, however, meant more than any of the others could have.
“They’ll be following pretty soon,” said Mabel, who seemed able to drift more lightly through the changing currents of their life than Nancy could.
“I know that’s the program now, but you never can tell what will happen in this man’s war.”
They spoke almost in whispers for they had been warned against loud speech on deck. The great ship moved silently over the dark waters. So quiet was everything aboard that the wash of the waves along the hull was the only audible sound above the low throb of the engines. Only once did they hear the drone of a plane, low on the horizon. Their journey promised to be as peaceful and uneventful as a summer excursion up the Hudson.
Mabel, Janice and a couple of men officers made up a bridge game toward midnight, but Nancy felt too exhausted to play. With her musette bag and helmet beside her, her Mae West dangling from one shoulder she tried to get some sleep on a two-seated couch. By drawing her knees up under her chin she was fairly comfortable. The game near by was still going onwhen she dozed.
At the sound of a terrific explosion, shaking the ship from prow to stem, Nancy woke with a jolt to find herself on the floor. Total darkness shut her in like a pall, while pandemonium broke loose. She clutched at her life-preserver, buckling it into place as she called through the wild confusion, “Mabel, where are you?”
Her friend must have been sleeping on the floor near by, for she replied almost in Nancy’s ear, “Here! So this is it!”
Even while she spoke there came the thunderous voice of the captain through the loud speakers, “Abandon ship! We have been struck! We are going down!”
To Nancy’s surprise now that the crisis was upon them, she felt calm and collected. All lights had gone out with that first impact, but she had carefully memorized the route from her couch to the lifeboat. Clinging to Mabel with one hand, she felt around for her musette bag and helmet. She couldn’t locate her helmet, but she did find her bag.
“Got your bag?” she asked Mabel.
“Went to sleep on it.” Even as she spoke Mabel fished out a flashlight, dimmed with blue paper.
Lights twinkled here and there as people hurried by, some babbling hysterically, others silently intent on reaching their boats. The deck listed with a sickening lurch just as Nancy and Mabel got through thedoor. They went sliding with alarming speed toward the rail. Some, caught completely off their guard, were plunged into the water.
“God help us,” moaned Mabel. “She’s going under before we can get to our boat.”
“No, here it is!” exclaimed Nancy, swinging her own light to a focus on number four.
It was one of the smaller boats, but three people were already inside. A man gave them a hand.
A woman spoke as they climbed in, “Where are the rest? There’re supposed to be many more.”
“I don’t know,” Mabel replied.
The woman’s voice was not that of any of their own nurses.
“We can’t wait much longer,” said the man. “She’s listing badly.”
“Why don’t they hurry?” wailed the woman.
“Don’t be frightened. Here’s someone now,” said another man reassuringly.
“Is this number eight?” A man’s voice asked as he stumbled toward the boat.
“No, but you get in,” said the man who had spoken first. “No time to hunt yours. She’s going down any minute.”
He gave the man’s arm a jerk and pulled him into the boat. Another man, evidently a sailor, let the boat into the water. The ship lurched dangerously and oily spray drenched the boat. They were not a dozen oar strokes away when acrid smoke billowed fromevery opening as the ship suddenly burst into flames. The oarsmen had a race to clear the area where flames lapped at the oil-coated water.
It was awful to see that towering bulk become a flaming carnival for some Jap, watching through the periscope of the sub that had struck them. A few minutes later the mighty ship went down with such an explosive churning of water that those in the lifeboats had to cling to the gunwale to keep from being swept overboard. For some time after the flames were extinguished they drifted in Stygian darkness. Nancy couldn’t even see Mabel sitting next to her.
In those first stunned moments of escape Nancy had been aware of other boats around them, and people in the water. But when they found themselves in calmer seas some time after the sinking they seemed to be utterly alone.
“Where are the others?” the strange woman across from them asked.
“God only knows,” replied her companion.
By the location of their voices Nancy surmised they also were sitting side by side. There was some comfort in feeling the physical nearness of another in that vast, empty darkness.
“We’ll drop anchor and ride it out here till morning,” the seaman decided. “We were due to be in sight of the convoy by dawn. If they got our SOS somebody should pick us up then.”
The last man they had taken aboard had not spokensince their arrival. Nancy wondered if he had gone overboard while the boat pitched so wildly after the ship went down. But a few minutes later she realized she was ankle deep in water. When she lifted her feet she struck something in the bottom of the boat.
“Somebody’s lying in the bottom!” she exclaimed. She found she had lost her flashlight in the scramble, but Mabel had hers.
“Don’t use a flash!” warned the sailor. “Those yellow devils can see one miles away.”
They could tell he was bending in the bottom of the boat as he spoke. Then they could hear him tugging at something. “It’s that last chap who came aboard,” he said. “He must have been knocked out.”
“Lucky he is—not knowing he has anything to worry about,” said the other man.
The sailor eased the man’s head to a higher level and began bailing out the water. But the small boat heaved and pulled on her anchor chain so they took in almost as much as he cleared out. In another hour the girl across from Nancy was violently sick. But it was not long before Nancy, Mabel and the other man were all agonizing over the side of the boat. Only the sailor and the sleeping man in the bottom of the boat kept steady stomachs.
For the first time in her life Nancy prayed for death to relieve her suffering. Sick, cold and miserable as she was, the struggle didn’t seem worth the effort.
From troubled dozing against Mabel’s shoulderNancy woke to find dawn breaking on a sea as empty and placid as a mountain lake. No rescue ship, nor even any lifeboat was visible on all that gray expanse. How could she endure this awful plight that daylight had revealed?
Nancy’s gaze came back from her futile search to look around at her companions. The bluejacket sat on the floor in the prow, his arms bent over the seat, cradling his head. She discovered it was a young corporal who had come aboard last. He still slept in the bottom of the boat. The girl across from them was a nurse of another unit. She lay on the seat. The first class private who sat beside her couldn’t have been more than nineteen Nancy thought, as she studied the sleeping face.
Everyone was covered with an oily scum that had swept over them from the sinking boat, and Nancy knew she must look as repulsive as the rest. Even before her inspection was finished the sailor roused and dragged himself to the seat. He took one look across the empty water.
“Well if that ain’t a way to do us!” he growled, when the drowsy corporal sat up and wanted to know what the row was about. “They all beat it off to safety without ever waiting to see who else was here.”
“They may have gone under for all you know,” said Mabel.
“Where’s the water?” asked the corporal. “I’m dry as a desert.”
“You’ll get your share along with the rest,” stated the bluejacket. He had the look of a seasoned seaman. Nancy judged him to be well over thirty, the oldest person aboard. Suddenly he seemed to accept the situation with what grace he could. He glanced around at his boat-mates and said, “Well, ladies and gentlemen, looks like we’re in for it.”
Even while he spoke a brilliant red sun slowly became a burning disk where sea and sky met. It seemed a warning of what they had to endure.
“First thing in order,” said the sailor, “is to take stock of all supplies—food and water.”
Nancy and Mabel reached into their musette bags to bring out their bars of chocolate and the small tins of concentrated food to add to the common stock.
Nancy noticed that the girl across from them had her canteen, but no bag.
“I see the young ladies are good seamen and have brought their canteens,” continued the sailor.
“I have mine, too,” said the private, putting his hand to his hip.
“Looks like I forgot mine,” said the dazed corporal, making a futile search for his canteen.
The bluejacket got out the boat’s supplies and stored with them what Nancy and Mabel had contributed. There was food and water enough surely to last until they were picked up, and navigation instruments, too, in case no help came.
The Corporal Reached for the Water Keg
The Corporal Reached for the Water Keg
The Corporal Reached for the Water Keg
“I want some water now,” demanded the complaining corporal, reaching for the water keg between the bluejacket’s feet.
“You’ll get your water when portions are dealt to all alike,” stated the sailor.
“That’s what you think,” growled the corporal and made a lunge for the water.
The young private sitting behind him swung out a strong hand and drew the man back before he could reach the sailor. It took some handling to get him quiet in the stem of the boat, well away from the frightened women.
“You’ll face court martial for this!” growled the corporal. “I’m your superior officer. I’m in command of this boat!”
“If anyone is put in command it must be one of the nurses,” said the private promptly. “They are all lieutenants.”
“That suits me fine,” said the bluejacket.
“We know nothing about what should be done here,” Nancy told them miserably. “Or at least I don’t. I’ll leave it up to Mabel or—” she paused to glance at the other girl.
“Hilda Newton,” said the strange nurse. “But heavens, I have no idea what we should do.”
“Neither have I,” stated Mabel. “If you’re all agreed I move we put the bluejacket in command. He probably knows more about this business than all of us put together.”
This met with the hearty approval of all except thesurly, still befuddled corporal. The sailor introduced himself as Olan Meyer, and the rest in turn told their names.
A few minutes later Olan dealt out the morning’s portion of food and water. And so began the monotonous round of nights and days that were to stretch on as endlessly as the sea on which they drifted.
CHAPTER TWENTYTHE PLANE
At the end of the first week when there was still no hope of rescue, nor any sight of land, their water had to be reduced to one portion a day. Only by the notches Olan Meyer cut on the stem seat, could they tell how much time had passed. After the first few sunrises, days and nights seemed a muddled succession without hope of ending.
Once they saw a smudge of smoke on the horizon, but it vanished swiftly. Another time Nancy thought she heard the drone of a plane, but no moving speck appeared in all the cloudless, blazing blue overhead. She wondered if her mind was weakening and she was beginning to hear sounds, as a wanderer in the desert sees mirages.
On their second day afloat Nancy had had another chill, then to her amazement, after the fever had burned itself out, the attacks did not come back. Her illness made her think of the small golden vitamins Major Reed had given her. She found them still in her musette bag. By dealing them out one a day to each person there would be enough to last them two weeks.
A sail had been hoisted after their conference the first morning, and Olan Meyer steered toward what he believed was their original destination. But the wind soon died down, the sail fell slack, and it was only useful as shade from the blazing sun.
The day after her fever cleared Nancy was sitting beside Olan as he studied the Pacific map, which had been placed in the lifeboat along with a book of navigation instructions.
“Where is Koshu Island on this map?” she asked.
After a brief search he pointed it out with a grimy finger.
“Do you know of any coral-surrounded islands northeast of it?” she asked.
“Plenty. Why?”
“There was one—about a day by water from Koshu, where they tell me my brother’s plane went down,” Nancy explained. “His gunner was made a prisoner by the Japs. He turned up at our hospital back there on Koshu. Soon as he’s able he’s going to guide a plane back to the island.”
“Got any more details?” asked Olan.
“Nothing, except that the island was covered with a jungle. As far as Vernon knew there were no native villages there.”
“And it was surrounded by coral reefs?”
“Entirely, so that no big boats could go close. But he said there were passages where small boats could enter the lagoons.”
“Twelve hours journey north of Koshu,” repeated Olan, while making some mental calculations. “We must have been somewhere in that neighborhood when we were struck.”
“Oh, are we?” asked Nancy eagerly.
“We were,” he corrected. “Lord knows where we’re at now. A fair wind for forty-eight hours took us in the opposite direction.”
He pointed out where he surmised they had been sunk, and indicated the approximate direction in which the wind had taken them.
“I figure the group of reefs and islands you’re talking about is somewhere back here.”
“And northeast of Koshu,” she observed. “Wouldn’t it be safer to try to go back in that direction?”
“You’re optimistic, lady. Distances in a tub like this take a hundred times longer to cover than on our transport.”
“I know that. But we may as well be going somewhere definitely as drifting like this. We might even be able to locate the island where Tommy was marooned.”
“Any land, no matter what—a jungle would be a thousand times better than this,” said Hilda Newton.
It was two days later, however, before another breath of wind came to stiffen their sail. The heat was almost unbearable by day while the cold penetrated to their marrow at night. Nancy thanked her lucky stars that she had been wearing her overcoat at thetime they were struck, and that Mabel had brought hers along. Hilda had not been so fortunate.
When the breeze stirred at last Nancy sat beside Olan, watching how he set the sail into the course he desired. It made little difference to any of the others what direction they took, so long as it brought an end to their misery. The very fact that they were moving boosted their morale.
But the fair wind was only a brief hope. It fell away after a few hours, and the horrible pall of inaction closed down on them again. Sometimes for an hour or so they would recite poetry, tell jokes or ask riddles—anything to keep their minds off reality. In this way the first week dragged by. Not once during that time was there a drop of rain to renew their diminishing water supply. So far they had used only from the lifeboat’s supply, saving the individual canteens for a reserve.
The corporal, Ned Owens, showed little improvement in disposition, even after his mind cleared. He kept aloof from the others and seldom took part in the nurses’ attempts to brighten their situation. The first few days a fever kept him on fire with thirst, and he was violently seasick. Knowing something of what he must be enduring Nancy offered him her portion of water at the end of an unusually hot day.
“You take it and I’ll knock your block off!” Olan flared, when Ned hesitated at the offer.
Rather than precipitate a fight Nancy finally drankthe water herself. By the end of the first week the feud between the two men, which started with selfishness on one side and firmness on the other, had grown to alarming proportions. Every time Olan dealt out the water Ned accused him of giving him less than his portion.
One evening after they had sat through the worst heat they had yet endured, Ned demanded that Olan give him his entire allotment of water and let him drink it as he pleased.
“I won’t do it! You haven’t got the grit to restrain yourself,” Olan stated.
Nancy had been surprised to find just before their evening ritual of food and drink that Ned had moved next to Olan on the boat seat.
Suddenly just as Olan was measuring out a portion of water, Ned’s arm swung round and struck him in the pit of his stomach. Caught unawares the keg slipped from Olan’s hand to the bottom of the boat, and the precious fluid gurgled out into the bilge water. While the two men went into a grip, Nancy grabbed the keg from under their feet, but she was not quick enough to save more than half of the remaining water.
She dragged the keg with her toward the prow as the raging men grappled. Jim Benton and Hilda were sitting in the prow, and the slack sail had at first cut off their view of what was happening. The men were already at each other’s throats before Jim realizedthere was a row, and rushed to separate them.
Terrified, the women feared the struggle would capsize the boat. They huddled together in the prow to keep a balance. The corporal was a much larger man than the bluejacket, and soon had him down on the seat, his hands clawing at his throat. Jim could not break their grip with his bare hands. Hilda had snatched up one of the oars, as if to help. Suddenly he seized it from her and cracked it down over Ned Owens’s head. The corporal crumpled into the bottom of the boat like a crushed egg.
The moment his hands relaxed their grip on Olan’s throat, the half-conscious man rolled into the water with a list of the boat. Without a moment’s hesitation Jim Benton went in after him, shoes and all. The shock of the cold water revived Olan’s faculties sufficiently for him to get a death grip on Jim. In spite of all the soldier could do to break the hold, Olan pulled him down under the waves with him. The horrified women stared, helpless to save either one.
Nancy was making a motion to get out of her shoes, when Mabel held her back by main force. “You’re insane!” she screamed. “You haven’t strength to do anything for them.”
But it was already too late. Even while Mabel held Nancy back the two men went down again, and they saw them no more. Too stunned for speech they could only stand and stare, hoping against hope that they might come up again.
Then Hilda, the little blue-eyed girl, wavered, and Mabel gently eased her to the bottom of the boat as consciousness slipped from her. After bathing her face with sea water Mabel and Nancy dragged her up to the boat seat, and Nancy held her head in her lap. For a long time they were too stunned for speech.
Mabel was the first to say anything as she stared with fixed eyes at the bottom of the boat. “Now we’re left to the mercy of that thing!” she moaned, pointing to the corporal.
“It would be better if we were all dead,” said Nancy in a hollow voice.
Mabel finally prodded Ned Owens with her foot, turning him over. Blood flowed from the gash on the back of his head made by the oar. Even though she dreaded to see him regain consciousness, the instincts of her profession would not be denied. She finally squatted in the bilge water to do what she could for his injuries. She cleaned the wound after a fashion and dusted it with some sulfa drug from her first-aid kit, then drew the edges together with some sticking plaster. They feared he would roll into the sea if they dragged him to the seat, so they pulled him into the prow where only his feet were in the water.
When Hilda stirred again she sat up, her fixed eyes turned across the waves that had swallowed the men. She was like one under the influence of dope and made no complaint, only sat there hour after hour as if the life had gone from her, too.
Mabel took a last look at Ned in the twilight and saw he was still breathing, though he showed no signs of regaining consciousness. “If he’ll only stay that way till morning,” she said. “I’ll feel much safer.”
For once Mabel’s wish was fulfilled. The first rays of daylight revealed the corporal lying where she had left him. She bent over him almost eagerly. Her shaking fingers, that pressed his wrist, found no pulse.
“God is good,” she said fervently, looking up from her knees at the other two. “No telling what we’ve been spared.”
His passing was such a relief to them all, that even Hilda found interest enough to help them heave the body over into the sea.
When the lapping green water had swallowed him up Nancy said, “Let’s recite the Twenty-third Psalm forallour dead.”
She emphasized the all, for in spite of their relief at this last death, she felt that none should be excluded from their simple burial ritual.
With the knowledge of navigation that she had picked up from Olan, Nancy steered a southeast course with every fair wind that blew. Though their number was now only half the original, she dared not increase their water supply, as so much had been lost when their keg overturned. By careful economy they would have food and water for a few more days.
After the death of the three men they rarely spoke. There seemed nothing left to say, and speech wassuch an effort with rasping vocal chords and cracked lips.
Once they sighted a smudge of smoke that promised to be a boat on the horizon. Though there was always the possibility it might be a Japanese boat, even captivity seemed preferable to their present condition. Nancy tacked to catch a bit of wind taking her in that direction. But a nearer approach showed them it was merely mist from spray breaking on a reef. But the island was barren, with not a single palm to pierce the burning sky.
Before night closed them in they saw other reefs, but all were barren. They decided to lower their sail and drop anchor for the night to keep the current from sweeping them against some hidden reef.
Twice during that day Nancy had thought she heard the drone of a distant plane. If any had passed they had been hidden by fleecy clouds.
In mid-morning the following day they were becalmed again under a cloudless sky. By crouching in the bottom of the boat during the hottest hours they could shade their heads under the boat seat, making the heat slightly more endurable.
Nancy was lying there almost in a coma, when there came the sound of a plane, clear and not too far away. For a moment she did not stir, believing it the sound she had imagined a score of times before. Then suddenly Mabel called out, “Nancy itisa plane! I can see it!”
“Coming this way,” Hilda added.
“Hoist the sail! They can see us easier with the sail up!” cried Mabel, her last reserve of strength pouring out into action.
The three of them tugged at the sail a moment, then Mabel stopped to bend over her musette bag. “I’m going to try flashing a mirror at them!” she explained. She opened her compact, containing a mirror almost as large as her palm. “I’ve heard of people catching the sun’s rays in a mirror and attracting planes that way.”
They had discussed this as one device for getting the attention of fliers in the early days of their shipwreck. Nancy and Hilda got the limp sail up, while Mabel set the mirror to catch the sun’s rays and reflect them toward the approaching plane. Then they realized that the silver speck was not coming straight over, but would pass well to the south.
“Oh, dear God, make it come on!” prayed Mabel.
Both the other nurses were praying, too, in a frenzy of hope and despair. Mabel tried the mirror trick she had practiced several times. Three long flashes from the sun-touched mirror, then three short, then three longs—SOS. Again and again she repeated the signal, but the plane kept steadily on its course.
Nancy felt she couldn’t endure to see it go entirely out of sight. Moaning she pressed her face into the slack sail, and leaned against their mast, certain this was their last hope.