CHAPTER XXIIThe Rescue
Following is the entry in the notebook that aroused Walter’s eagerness and enthusiasm:
“My name is Edward Kilcrane. My home is in Richmond, Virginia.
“After the last two boiler explosions, I jumped into the sea with hundreds of others. There were several rafts floating about, and I managed to get on this one with half a dozen other men. We came near being swamped in the suction when the Herculanea went down.
“I wasn’t long in discovering I had broken my right leg. It struck something hard as I hit the water, probably a piece of ice or an edge of the raft. So I was nearly helpless. Four of the other men also were injured in some way. Ours was a regular hospital raft.
“I saw two rafts paddle up to the iceberg and try to find a landing place. But they didn’t find any, so they moved along the edge and around the east end and disappeared. I hope they landed on the other side. We would have followed them, only we couldn’t. The oars that belonged to our raft had been torn off when it was tossed overboard probably. Anyway they were gone. I heard a man on one of the rafts suggest that they land on the ice and try to dry their clothes and keep warm by running around.
“There isn’t much more to tell. My fingers are getting so numb I can’t write much more anyway. Two men on this raft got discouraged and slid off and drowned themselves. I think another will follow soon.
“There’s $200 in my inside coat pocket. Send it to my mother, Mrs. Helen Kilcrane, Richmond, Virginia.
“I’ll have to quit.”
The last few lines were almost illegible. No doubt an icy paralysis was gripping the young man as he wrote. His difficulty became more and more evident as he neared the end.
“Yes, the chances looked good for finding Guy on the iceberg,” said Tony as he finished reading. “But why didn’t we see them when we sailed around it?”
“I don’t believe that’s the iceberg they landed on,” replied Walter. “I believe it’s the one farther on.”
“I’ve been thinking that way myself,” Det interposed. “I believe that farthest one is the one near which the Herculanea sunk.”
“Let’s make a run for it as fast as we can,” proposed Walter.
“I’m agreeable,” said Det. “But first let’s get that money in this man’s pocket so’s we can send it to ’is mother. I think he deserves that much attention, don’t you, for giving us this valuable tip.”
“He certainly does,” Walter admitted. Then as if in apology for his thoughtlessness, he stepped down onto the raft and began a search for the money. He soon drew out a long bill book, opened it, and found several bills of large denomination. Then he returned aboard.
There being no occasion for further delay, the Jetta was started again, and soon she was running full speed to the southwest. In order to make certain regarding the possibility of there being any of the shipwrecked party on the first iceberg, the yacht was run around it, but no sign of life was discovered. Indeed, there appeared to be no place on which a man could have found footing near the water line. Then they dashed on toward the farther berg at full speed, as the intervening sea was comparatively free of ice.
“That ice is melting very fast,” observed Walter as the yacht bounded along, cutting through the crests of the waves in a manner that indicated much power and much gasoline explosion. “It’s lucky we’re no later, for in a few days more there mightn’t be much left for them to stand on.”
Walter had rather an unscientific conception of icebergs, and perhaps it was fortunate for his peace of mind that such was the case. He knew nothing of the manner in which a mountain of frozen water goes to pieces, or he would have realized that danger is imminent at any time to a person cast away on one. Det, however, knew all about this; he was familiar with the shifting of the center of gravity, caused principally by the rapid melting under the water line, and of the possibility that the great mass would roll over any minute. But he said nothing of this danger, hoping only that fortune would not prove so cruel as to place success seemingly within their grasp and then snatch it tantalizingly away.
That the iceberg ahead was a gigantic affair was evident at first view. It was nearly an hour’s run from the one first visited. Five hundred feet high in places and half a mile long, it presented an imposing appearance miles distant.
Walter soon trained his binoculars on it, and in a short time he had found signs of life. Eagerly he announced this discovery, and Det snatched the glasses from him and made a careful inspection. Yes, there could be no mistake. Tiny objects could be discerned moving about on a small plateau near one end. Det was certain they were human beings.
In half an hour the iceberg Crusoes could be distinguished plainly, also, of course, the fire they had built.
About this time Det began to realize the imminent danger not only to those on the iceberg, but to the little yacht itself and its crew, and he warned his companions of what was likely soon to take place. The sound of breaking and falling ice grew more and more distinct. Great spurs and bulky projections, weighing many tons each, broke loose with cracking, crushing noises and thundered into the water, churning it like a sea-coast avalanche. And the little yacht must run the risk of being crushed by one of these masses in order to get close enough to effect a rescue.
Walter, Det and Tony have since agreed that fortune really worked happily not only for most of the endangered castaways, but also for the safety of the yacht. But before this was realized, the crew of the Jetta suffered mental tortures that no words can describe. Walter had discovered Guy among those on the iceberg and had announced this discovery to his companions. He could almost feel his brother’s arms around him and hear a sob of joy at their reunion, when he saw the great mass of ice begin slowly to tip over toward the yacht.
It was indeed wonderful that most of those perched on the overturning mass survived the ordeal. But there were several elements favoring their escape. First, they were standing on the highest point of their section of the iceberg so that when they leaped into the water there was no higher projection to reach over and strike them; second, they all wore life jackets; third, most of them followed the advice and example of Watson, to leap out as far as possible when the top of the mass rendered it impossible longer to maintain their foothold.
Of course Walter’s first thought was of his brother, and he kept his eyes glued to the spot where he believed he saw Guy strike the water. The Jetta stopped fifty feet from the berg, where Det surveyed the scene to determine who was most in need of assistance.
Nobody appeared to be in danger of sinking, but several were evidently unconscious. The bravery and thoughtfulness of some of the men was heroic. The heads of two unconscious men were being held up by two others who had escaped serious injury. Another man, almost helpless, was being assisted by one of the women. This man was Professor Anderson, who in attempting to aid a woman, failed to make the best of his own “safety-first” opportunities and was knocked almost senseless by striking the water flat on his left side. The woman who came to his rescue seemed to have the strength of a man. In her earlier years she had been an athlete and a swimmer with a record. Her leap from the iceberg had been one of the most skillful and spectacular of the whole dramatic scene as viewed from the deck of the Jetta. The woman whom the professor tried to assist made a floundering leap and was knocked unconscious.
Walter soon discovered his brother holding the head of the latter woman above the water. With a heart full of thankfulness he sent a cry of cheer to Guy, who was slowly swimming toward the Jetta, dragging his human burden with him.
The work of rescue now progressed rapidly. Men and women were pulled and hoisted over the railing on all sides, and presently the little craft was thickly populated with dripping, shivering figures, including the two Eskimos and their dogs.
The yacht was now converted into a hospital. Three of the men and two of the women had been killed and their bodies, buoyed with the life jackets, were taken aboard. Then without further delay, the homeward journey was begun.
Det remained at the wheel. Tony performed the duties of galley superintendent, and Walter assumed the position of head nurse. All of the surviving women and seven of the men were either severely injured or on the verge of pneumonia, and it was necessary that they be given the best of care.
That night Walter had another opportunity to use the wireless outfit on the yacht with heroic effect. About nine o’clock the lights of a large steamer were sighted in the southeast, and the yacht’s course was shaped to run as near to the big ship as possible. Walter, meanwhile, was busy with receivers at his ears and hands operating the key and tuning sliders. He must quit the field of amateur wireless sender for a short time and invade the commercial wireless world on the high sea.
Guy stood near his brother, eagerly watching the latter’s every movement. After a minute or two of critical inspection, he offered a bold suggestion, one generally held to be a grave violation of governmental limitation of the rights of radio amateurs:
“Why don’t you tighten the coupling of your oscillating circuit?”
Walter looked up at his brother with grim intelligence.
“I was just thinking of that,” he shouted back.
Without further delay he did what is often done on board sinking vessels, what, indeed, was probably done by the operator of the Herculanea when the latter sent out his calls for help. The effect was so to reduce the amplitude of the outgoing ether waves that they might be received over a wide receiving range.
“He got it!” exclaimed the boy operator. “He’s trying to answer.”
There was more tuning of wave lengths for a minute or two and finally Walter got this message to the liner:
“We are a small yacht with forty survivors of the Herculanea wreck. We need help. Will you take us on board?”
Almost immediately came the question:
“Where are you?”
“A few miles off your port bow,” Walter answered.
“Come this way,” was the ship’s next message. “Will answer in a few minutes.”
Walter waited three minutes with the receivers at his ears. Then came the following.
“Come aboard. We’ll stop for you.”
It requires something of a sensation to stop a big liner in mid-ocean.