. . . . . .
"'Some days later. What is happening to the ship? She is being drawn by some strong but invisible current. There is no wind, but she is moving fairly fast. What can be going to happento me? One thing is sure, I am out of the track of ocean vessels. Heaven help me, for I fear I am beyond human aid!'"
"The poor fellow's mind evidently gave way soon after this," said the ensign; "the entries grow disjointed and wild. He declares the cabin is haunted. That the ghosts of the dead mutineers haunt the ship. At last they cease abruptly with the words, 'God be merciful to me, I am going mad.'"
A silence fell over the party in the dead mariner's cabin. The mystery, the spell of the horror of it all, was strong upon them. In each lad's mind was a vivid picture of the unfortunate captain held in the grip of a strange current, being driven day by day further from the track of ships, while his fevered mind pictured ghostly forms all about him.
"How do you suppose his death came?" asked Rob, after the silence had endured some moments.
"I have an ugly suspicion which I shall soonverify," said the ensign; "you boys wait here for a time."
Alone he reëntered the deck-house, where sat the dead seaman. When he returned his face was very grave.
"Boys, my suspicions were correct," he said; "by the man's side I found a pistol. Undoubtedly, crazed by despair, he ended his life."
"After writing this strange paper?" asked Rob.
"Evidently. To judge from the jumble of figures, it was the product of his poor, demented brain."
"If you don't mind, I'll keep it, though," said Rob. "I've an idea about it."
"In what way?"
"Why, that it may not be what you think, after all. It bears the earmarks of an orderly cipher and is not scrawled at all as are the final entries in the log book."
"That's right," agreed the ensign admiringly,"you Boy Scouts have mighty keen minds. Well, my boy, keep it and study it at your leisure, although I am free to confess that I cannot think of it otherwise than in the way mentioned."
"Perhaps you are right," said Rob, "but I'll have a try at puzzling it out, when I get time."
During the conversation recorded none of the party had given much thought to conditions outside. Now, when he stepped to the door of the cabin, the ensign uttered a sharp cry of consternation.
"What's the matter?" asked Rob, as he approached.
"Matter enough. Look there!" was the rejoinder.
A dense white fog had come softly rolling up, and now the derelictGood Hopelay enwrapped in fleecy white clouds, thick and impenetrable.
"Well, we'll have to wait here in the boat till this clears off," declared Bob; "we could never find theSenecain this mess."
"That's the worst of it," rejoined the lieutenant, "there is no boat."
"No boat," echoed Rob uncomprehendingly; "but we came in one. It will be waiting for us."
"No. I gave orders for the men to return to theSenecaand bring over a destructive mine, for I had determined to blow up this dangerous menace to navigation. They have not returned, that is evident, or I would have been notified. Boys, we are in a bad fix. I don't know how fast this old hulk is drifting; but I imagine that if this keeps up much longer, we shall fetch up a long way from theSeneca'swhereabouts."
"Can't they cruise about and find us?" asked Merritt rather piteously. He was not a lad to underestimate the real seriousness of their position on board the old hulk in the impenetrable fog that hung in blanket-like wreaths everywhere about them.
In reply to the boy's question the ensign declared that it would be impossible for theSenecato pick them up until the weather cleared, if then.
"It would be risking the vessel to cruise about in this smother," he said; "why, she'd be as likely to strike theGood Hopeas not!"
Rob's face grew long, though he did his best to make light of the situation.
"Then we've got to picnic here till the fog clears off," he said.
"That's the case exactly, Rob," was the officer's rejoinder.
"But what are we going to picnic on?" inquired Tubby anxiously. "There's no food or water on board, and we haven't brought any."
"There you go again. Always thinking of that precious tummy of yours," cried Hiram. "A little starving won't hurt you."
"Huh, just because you look like a human bean pole, you don't think anyone has a right to be fat. You're jealous, that's what you are," was the indignant reply of the fat youth.
Under other conditions there might have ensued a rough and tumble battle; but just at this instant, through the fog, there came the booming sound of a vessel's whistle.
"Waugh-gh-gh-gh!"
The long bellow sounded through the white, all-enveloping mist surrounding the old hulk and its young company of castaways.
"That's theSeneca'swhistle," exclaimed the ensign anxiously. "She's calling for us."
"Gee! She must know that we can't come to her," exclaimed Paul Perkins.
"I guess she's 'standing by' till the fog lifts," rejoined the officer. "We'll release the bell. That may help to locate us."
But instead of standing by, it became apparent, before long, that theSenecawas cruising about. The reason for supposing this was that the next time they heard the hoot of the siren it sounded much further off.
The boys exchanged glances.
"How long do these fogs last, as a rule?" enquired Merritt.
"Impossible to say!" was the quick reply, with an anxious look about. "If only we could get a slant of wind!"
But there was not a breath stirring. Only theGood Hopeswung to the soft swells, lifting and falling with a hopeless, helpless sort of motion. In fact, an experienced seaman could have told her waterlogged condition by the very "heft and heave" of her, which was sluggish to a degree.
"Well, I suppose we must make up our minds to spend some time here," said Rob, with another attempt to treat the matter lightly. "Goodness, our adventures are surely beginning early this trip!"
The others could not help but agree with the young leader of the Eagles, although they could hardly foresee the still more thrilling experiences that lay just ahead of them.
"I would suggest," began the ensign presently,"I would suggest that we search for some trace of food."
"Humph; mouldy ship's biscuits!" grunted Tubby half under his breath. "Even if there are any on board, they must be rotten by this time. This is a fine fix! Maybe we won't get any supper at all," and the fat boy looked positively tragic over the dire prospect.
But although Tubby had spoken in a low tone, more to himself than to anybody else, the ensign's sharp ears had overheard him.
"Young man," he said somewhat sternly, "if you want to be a good Boy Scout you must learn to take hardships as they come."
"Even missing meals?" asked Tubby, in an injured voice.
"Yes, even that," repeated the young officer with a smile, which in the Eagles' case was a perfect roar of laughter at Tubby's keen distress. The fat boy strode off sullenly by himself, gazing at the fog as he went in a very knowing way.
They searched the ship over for something that it would be possible to eat; but not so much as a crumb of edible supplies did they find. In one hold was discovered a number of barrels of "salt horse and pork," but they were all dried up and unfit for human food. The same thing applied to the biscuit kegs, and all the other supplies. It was out of the question to think of touching any of them.
"Whatever are we going to do?" gasped Rob, a note of real alarm in his voice for the first time.
The ensign's calmness served to steady all the boys a bit.
"Don't worry; everything will come out all right," he said; "we are in the track of ships, and——"
"But in this dense fog, that fact make it all the more dangerous," declared Rob, and the young officer could not but answer him with a nod in the affirmative.
"I can't help admitting that, my boy," was his further rejoinder; "all we can do is to trust to Providence and hope that the fog will disappear before long."
"Let's whistle for a wind," suggested Rob, who had heard of sailors doing such a thing.
"Better than doing nothing. It will fill the time in, anyway," agreed the ensign.
The boys squatted in a circle.
"What will we whistle?" asked Merritt.
"'Wait Till the Clouds Roll By,' of course," rejoined Rob.
As the plaintive notes came from the whistlers' puckered lips, Tubby sauntered up, his hands in his tunic pockets.
"What are you doing?" he asked, staring at them, "gone crazy with the heat, or what?"
"We're whistling for a wind," answered Merritt.
"Huh; why don't you whistle for grub?" demanded Tubby, turning on his heel, and striding gloomily off once more.
Night fell and found them still in the same plight. The fog had shut in closer if anything. Since the last time they had caught the diminishing sound of theSeneca'ssiren, they had heard no sound from any vessel. Others besides Tubby were hungry on board theGood Hopethat night. Then, too, the thought of the tragedy that had been consummated on board the derelict, and the gloom-inspiring presence of the silent figure in the forward deck house, were not calculated to inspire cheerful thoughts.
One thing they did have, and that was light. For in the course of their investigation of the old hulk they had stumbled across several oldcandle lanterns, the candles in which were still capable of burning. One of these lanterns was lashed to the stump of the forward mast, but the other was hung up in the cabin below. For it was in this latter place that the little party of castaways gathered and tried, by telling stories and cracking jokes, to keep their spirits in the ascendent.
But their efforts were not very successful. As the Scotch say, "It's ill jesting on an empty stomach," and that is the malady from which they all were suffering. Thirst did not as yet trouble them much, but they knew that if they were not speedily picked up by some vessel, that would also be added to their ordeal.
So the night passed away, with the castaways watching in turn for some ray of hope of the fog lifting. It was soon after midnight, and in Rob's watch, that a startling thing happened—something that brought his heart into his mouths, and set his every nerve on vibrant edge.
The boy was sitting up forward, pondering the strangeness of the day's happenings, when suddenly, right ahead of him, as it seemed, the fog was split by the hoarse shriek of a steamer's whistle.
Rob's scalp tightened from alarm as he leaped for the lantern.
"Look out!" he shouted at the top of his voice; "look out!"
But for reply there only came back out of the dense smother ahead another raucous call of the big steam whistle.
"Gracious! We'll be run down! We'll be sunk!" cried the boy, half wild with alarm.
He shouted to his companions to come on deck; but before they could obey, a huge, black bulk loomed up right above the derelict. Rob shouted at the top of his voice. It seemed as if theGood Hopewould be cut in two and that the steamer was also doomed to disaster if she struck.
Through the blackness flashed a green side-light,and then came the rushing by of the great hull, with its rows of illuminated portholes. Rob stood stock still. He was fairly rooted to the spot with panic. But the big steamer raced by in the blackness and fog without anyone on board her ever dreaming that she had been in such close proximity to the drifting derelict.
As her stern lights flashed for an instant and then were shut out in the fog, Rob's companions came rushing on deck.
"What is it? What has happened?" demanded the ensign, readily perceiving that something very serious had occurred.
Rob, still shaky from his experience, related, as briefly as possible, just what had caused his cry of alarm.
"Well, those liners take desperate chances," commented the officer; "had they struck us, not only we, but they, would have been seriously injured."
"Gee! I wish you could have found time to ask 'em to throw us some sandwiches," saidTubby, rubbing his stomach; "I'm as empty as a dry gourd."
"I reckon we could all do with something to eat," chorused the other young "Eagles".
The ensign bade them cheer up.
"By daylight we may have a wind, and then, with the fog gone, it won't take long for some vessel to pick us up."
He spoke with a cheerfulness he was actually far from feeling. In fact, his boyish listeners were not inclined to look hopefully on the situation. By this time every one of them would have given almost all he possessed for a big pitcher of cool ice water.
"I will take the remainder of your watch, Rob," said the ensign, with a glance at his watch. "You only had a few minutes to serve anyway, and the next round of duty is mine."
"Very well," said Rob; "to tell the truth, a nap would feel pretty good. I hope things will have cleared by the time I wake up."
The boys went below, leaving the officer on thefog-circled deck. The mist gleamed on everything, the rays of the candle-lamp making them glisten as if water had been newly poured on them. Far off the hoarse hooting of the ship that had so nearly run them down was to be heard.
"Narrow escape, that! Narrower than I quite care to admit, even to myself," mused the young officer. "I wonder if those lads realize how bad a fix we are in. I must confess I don't like the look of things at all."
He fell to pacing the deck, and then decided to have a cigar. For this purpose he produced a perfecto from his pocket and lighted it. Then he fell to pacing the deck once more, thinking deeply. His cigar finished, he tossed it aside. Possibly it was his worry over their predicament that made him absent-minded in this regard, but instead of observing the rule of the sea to cast all such things overboard, he threw it to the deck. A lurch of theGood Hopecaused the glowingbutt of the cigar to go rolling across the deck and to drop into the hold below.
It was some time later that Paul Perkins came on deck to take his turn at the night vigil.
As he came forward he was startled to see what appeared to be a ghostly figure, slightly darker than the fog, slip from the forward hold and glide across the deck toward the ensign, who was pacing up and down. Much startled, Paul called out aloud, and at the same instant a peculiar acrid odor came to his nostrils.
"Something's burning!" he cried.
Simultaneously he had come up to the side of the hatch and saw that smoke was pouring from it. What he had taken for a ghostly figure was a whirl of smoke.
"Fire! Something's on fire below!" cried the boy, dashing forward.
The ensign reached the edge of the hold as quickly. Together they peered over into the great open space below. Both involuntarily recoiledwith a cry of horror and alarm at what they saw.
TheGood Hope'shold was a mass of flames! To gaze into them was like looking into a red hot furnace.
Adrift in a blinding fog, on a burning ship, and without boats, was a predicament the like of which their adventurous lives had never before encountered!
The cigar so carelessly cast aside by the ensign had fallen upon a pile of sacking, grease-soaked and inflammable, lying in the former whaler's hold. Like all whale ships the timbers of theGood Hopewere literally soaked with grease, the result of whale oil and blubber. Such timbers burn like matchwood.
Small wonder that, brave man as he was, and schooled against emotional display in the stern school of the Navy, the ensign should yet cry out:
"If help does not arrive, we are doomed to die like rats!"
It was five minutes later that the whole company of castaways was gathered around the hatchway. A red glare from below shone on their faces, illuminating expressions of dismay and apprehension.
"What can we do?" gasped out Rob. "There are no boats, no means of escape!"
"We'll be burned to death," shuddered Paul Perkins.
All looked to the ensign for some suggestion. His tightly compressed lips and drawn features suggested that he was thinking deeply, thinking as men think whose very lives depend upon quick decision.
"We must put on the hatches," he said decisively; "there they lie yonder. That will deprive the fire of oxygen and give us at least a few hours before we have to vacate."
The coverings of the hatch, big, thick planks, lay not far away. Evidently they lay just as they did on the day that the cargo of mammoth tusks had been taken from theGood Hopeand hidden. Working with feverish energy, the boys soon had the hatch covered tightly. But the work had almost exhausted their strength. The fumes of the blazing hold and the suffocating black smoke that rolled out, had almost caused them to succumb.
Their desperate task accomplished, they lay panting on the deck, incapable, for the time being, of further effort. However, with the hatch in place and tightly dovetailed, there was a gleam of hope that the flames might be smothered, or at least held in check till the fog cleared and they could sight a vessel.
The first faint glimmering of dawn, shown by an increasing transparence in the fog, found the derelict still lying inert. But a second later the boys were on their feet with a cheer. A light breeze had sprung up and the fog was agitated by it like drifting steam. Little by little the breeze increased and the fog thinned out to mere wisps. The sun shone through and disclosed a glimmering expanse of sea stretched all about. But, to their bitter disappointment, the great heaving expanse was empty of life. Not a sail or a sign of a steamer marred its lonely surface.
They exchanged dismayed looks. There was no knowing at what moment the fiery, seething furnace beneath their very feet might break through and force them to fight for their existence.
Already the decks were hot. Aside from this, however, so well did the hatch fit that not even a wisp of smoke escaped. Except the extreme heat, there was nothing to indicate that the interiorof theGood Hope'shull was a fiery furnace.
The hours wore on, the little company of castaways dreading every moment that what they feared might happen. Still no indication that the fire was about to break through occurred. But their sufferings from thirst were terrible. One after another the Boy Scouts sank to the decks in a sort of coma. Rob, Merritt, and the ensign himself alone retained their strength.
"If some vessel doesn't appear before long we are doomed."
It was Rob who spoke, and the mere fact that the others were silent indicated plainly that they shared his opinion.
Despite their sufferings and anxiety a bright lookout was kept. It was Rob who electrified them by a sudden shout:
"Look! Look out there to the north!"
"A sail!" shouted the ensign, springing to his feet.
"Yes. A steam yacht, rather! She's coming this way, too!"
"That's what. But how can we signal her? If she doesn't hurry she may be too late!"
"We can wave and shout!"
The ensign shook his head.
"She is too far off to see or hear us. Is there no other way to attract her?"
A dozen plans were thought of and discarded. Then Rob spoke:
"I've thought of a way, but it's a desperate one."
"Never mind, what is it?"
"We will signal her in Boy Scout fashion. Maybe there is someone on board who understands it."
The others looked puzzled. Rob hastened to explain.
"You all know the smoke column system of signalling?"
"I see what you mean!" shouted Merritt."You mean to send up two columns of smoke meaning 'Help! We are lost!'"
Rob nodded.
"But how is that possible?" demanded the ensign, with a puzzled inflection in his tones. "We've got a whole ship full of smoke under us, of course, but I don't see how we are going to utilize it in the way you suggest."
"I've thought it out," declared Rob modestly.
He produced his heavy-bladed scouting knife.
"Merritt, you take your knife and we'll cut two holes in the top of the hatch. That will make two smoke columns, and if anyone on that yacht is a Scout, they will come rushing at top speed toward us!"
"Jove! You boys are resourceful, indeed!" cried the ensign admiringly.
Without more ado the boys fell to work on their task. They cut the holes about ten feet apart. It was hard work, but they stuck to it perseveringly, and at last, from the two holes,two columns of black smoke spouted up. Luckily for their plans the wind had, by this time, moderated so much as to have fallen almost flat.
High into the heavens soared the two black columns of smoke like two pillars of inky vapor.
Every eye watched the distant yacht anxiously. For five minutes the anxiety was so intense that no one spoke. The pitch of expectancy was painful.
Then came a great cry.
"They've seen our signal!" shouted Rob.
"Yes; look, she's changing her course. Look at the black smoke coming from her funnel. She's making top speed to our rescue!" cried Merritt.
"Let's hope that she won't be too late," murmured the ensign under his breath, and then aloud he cried:
"Three cheers for the Boy Scouts of the Eagle Patrol!"
Faster and faster came the yacht. She was a large white craft, with a yellow funnel and two rakish-looking masts, with light spidery rigging. Between her masts was suspended a parallel sort of "antennæ," wires betokening that she carried wireless. At her bow the foam creamed up as she rushed through the water on her errand of mercy.
With what anxiety those on theGood Hopewatched her, may be imagined. Their eyes fairly burned as they regarded the race of their rescuers against the fire which raged below them. For the two holes cut by Rob and Merritt, while they had had the good effect of attracting aid, had also had a less gratifying result.
Through them the air had been transmitted to the flaming mass below, and flames were now shooting up through them and enlarging the openings every instant. The air grew so fearfully hot that all were compelled to beat a retreat to the extreme stern of theGood Hope.
Little was said as the yacht rounded up as close to the burning ship as she dared, and lowered a boat. By this time clouds of black smoke, shot with livid flames, were shooting skyward above the doomed craft. It was a fortunate thing for the castaways that no wind was stirring or this story might have had a different termination.
The boat was manned by sailors in white duck clothes and was guided by a lad wearing the Boy Scout uniform. As soon as they saw this the boys gave the cry of the Eagle Patrol. As the long drawn "Kree-ee-ee!" died out, the boy in the stern stood erect and gave the Scout salute. Then followed a long-drawn, growling shout:
"How-oo-oo-oo!"
"That's the cry of one of the Wolf Patrols!" cried Merritt.
"Yes; and that boy is a Wolf," declared Rob.
"Well, at all events he comes in sheep's clothing," the ensign could not resist saying.
The next instant the boat was under the stern and the rescued castaways were sliding down a rope into it. Hardly a word was spoken while this was going on; the work in hand was too important.
But hardly had they all found places before, in an earnest voice, the ensign exclaimed:
"Pull for your lives, men; spare no time."
"Why, you are safe enough now," declared the Wolf Scout.
"Far from it," declared the young officer seriously, "the log book of that craft spoke of dynamite on board. They used it to blast their way out of the polar ice. I think——"
A terrific concussion that threw them all fromtheir seats interrupted him. Then came a blinding flash, and this in turn was followed by an explosion that seemed to shake the sea.
"Pull for your lives!" shouted the ensign to the alarmed sailors.
Dazed as they were, they lost no time in doing so, but even then fragments of blazing wood and red-hot metal rained about them in a downpour of great danger.
Luckily, however, none of the blazing fragments struck the boat. As soon as they recovered their faculties, the boys gazed back at the spot where theGood Hopehad last been seen. There was not a trace of her. The dynamite had literally blown the ill-fated whaler out of existence. Only oily pools remained on the surface to show the spot of her vanishing.
"I can easily see that you chaps have been through some thrilling experiences," remarked the Wolf boy, whose name proved to be Donald Grant, attached to the Wolf Patrol of the 14th New York City Troop.
"We have, indeed," rejoined Rob, "but we would rather defer the telling of them till we arrive on board your yacht. What's her name?"
"TheBrigand," was the reply; "we are on a cruise through the West Indies."
"TheBrigand," echoed the ensign. "Isn't that J. P. Grant, the great financier's yacht?"
"Yes, he's my father," rejoined Donald simply; "he's on board. You'll be glad to meet him, and I know he'll be delighted to welcome you and hear your story."
"Did you recognize our signal as soon as you saw it?" inquired Rob.
"I sure did," responded Donald; "lucky you sent it up, too, as we were on another course, and would not have passed near enough to see that there was anyone on board what we thought was just an old hulk drifting about the ocean."
"You'll be more interested still when you hear how we made the signals," spoke up Hiram.
"Well, I knew that the call meant that thenecessity was urgent, and although we were going slowly at the time we soon got under full speed. Dad has been a bit sceptical about scouting, but I guess he'll admit there's some good in it now."
"It was Scout lore that saved our lives," said the ensign quietly.
"Not a doubt of that," agreed Donald; "but here we are, almost alongside theBrigand."
The boys gazed up at the towering sides of the big yacht, at her glittering brass work, and crowds of white-jacketed sailors gazing over the side curiously. Astern a big bronzed man leaned over the rail gazing down with equal interest. Rob recognized him instantly from pictures he had seen of him in the papers, as Junius P. Grant, the "Wall Street King," as he was called.
He greeted them with a wave of his hand.
"Welcome to theBrigand, young men," he hailed in a hearty tone; "you have the Boy Scout idea to thank for your lives. Had my lad therebeen five minutes later we'd have been too late to save you."
"That's true enough, sir," hailed back the ensign; "we all thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your prompt relief work."
"The best thanks you can give me will be to come on board at once and get washed up and partake of the best theBrigandcan provide," was the pleasant reply.
"Yes; get on board, quick," urged Donald, as the gangway was lowered and the boatmen shipped their oars, "you look about all in."
"We look like a lot of tramps, I guess you mean," laughed Rob, but for all that he felt a bit ashamed of their appearance. They were covered with grime from their fire-fighting experiences. Loss of sleep, hunger, and exposure had drawn their cheeks and reddened their eyes. Altogether, they looked very unlike the trim crew that had set out from the Derelict DestroyerSenecaonly a comparatively short time before.
As soon as they arrived on board, they were turned over to the steward, who provided them with quarters in which to spruce up. Everything on theBrigandwas appointed as luxuriously as could be possible. This fact rather added to the boys' embarrassment. But when half an hour after their arrival they gathered about a splendidly appointed luncheon table, their embarrassment turned to positive bashfulness. Never had any of them felt so out of place. The ensign alone retained his self-possession.
It was not till Mr. Grant had tactfully interested them in relating their adventures, that they forgot their self-consciousness and ate and drank during the narrative, like famished wolves—or Eagles.
It was about an hour after luncheon, which, naturally enough, with all that had to be related, had been a rather protracted meal. The party of which the Boy Scouts and their naval friend had so unexpectedly become members was foregathered beneath the stern awning in comfortable wicker chairs.
The ensign was relating to Mr. Grant, under pledge of secrecy, some details of the work which was expected to be accomplished on the lonely island. Mr. Grant, who was intensely interested, agreed to put the officer and his young charges ashore at Charleston or some convenient port, provided theSenecacould not be reached bywireless. The boys were secretly hoping that this would prove impossible, that they might protract their cruise on theBrigand.
Donald and the boys had instinctively become chums. The millionaire's son was a manly, self-reliant sort of chap, with crisp, curly hair, and blue eyes that could be merry or determined. Then, too, he was a first-class Scout and deeply versed in Scout lore. In fact, the Eagles were no more than a match for the knowledge of this young Wolf.
While the ensign and Mr. Grant chatted, they watched the youngsters with interest. When Donald had carried them off to show them theBrigandfrom stem to stern, as he expressed it, Mr. Grant laid down his cigar and, turning to the ensign, said, with his customary abruptness:
"Could you use another Boy Scout on this work?"
"Well—I—really, I've hardly considered it," was the astonished rejoinder.
"If you could, I have one for you."
"You mean your son Donald?"
"Yes. He is a manly, fine lad, but he has been a little bit coddled by his mother and sisters. Now he and these other boys appear to get along famously, and they are just the sort of lads I should like my boy to associate with."
The naval officer nodded.
"I never saw or heard of such another lot of lads as those comprising the Eagle Patrol," he said with emphasis; "although, of course," he continued, "there are probably many such enrolled in the ranks of the Boy Scouts."
"I don't doubt it. Donald is a different lad already since he joined the Wolf Patrol. Now this cruise of mine will be dull at best to the lad. You see I am combining business with pleasure, and he will be thrown much on his own resources. He has seen the West Indies before, so there would not be much that is novel to him in the scenery or the people. What do you say to my proposal?"
Cigar in hand, the great man of Wall Street paused for an answer, knitting his famous black eyebrows as he did so.
"Why, if Donald is anxious to go, I don't see why it could not be arranged," was the ensign's reply; "but why not ask the lad himself?"
"And your boys, too, of course," was the rejoinder; "they might object to adding an outsider to their number."
"Not much fear of that," smiled the officer; "why, you would think they had been lifelong friends. Hark at that!"
A merry peal of laughter came ringing from somewhere about the ship.
At this juncture, a young man in a natty uniform came hastening up. He bore a slip of yellow paper which he respectfully handed to the Wall Street magnate.
"Ah, Collins,—Mr. Hargreaves, this is our wireless operator."
The ensign nodded while Mr. Grant gazed over the message.
"So you picked her up, eh, Collins?" he said, handing the message he had just perused over to the ensign.
"Yes, sir. It appears that after missing the derelict in the fog theSenecacruised in circles looking for her. She is now within ten miles of us."
"So I see by this message," struck in the ensign; "we are fortunate not to have drifted further."
"What do you wish to do?" inquired Mr. Grant.
"Naturally, to be transferred to my own ship, if you will be so kind."
Mr. Grant nodded.
"Collins, get our exact position from the captain, signal it to theSeneca, and tell her we will lay off and on here till she arrives."
"Very well, sir," said the man of the wireless, with a bow.
He had hardly withdrawn when the boyscame up, fresh from their inspection of theBrigand. All were loud in praise of the craft, especially Rob and Merritt.
"Would you rather cruise on this craft or go on the duty for Uncle Sam which lies before you?" asked Mr. Grant quizzically.
The Boy Scouts drew themselves up.
"Why, sir, our duty to our country comes before pleasure," declared Rob, acting as spokesman. "Cruising about is all right, but we Boy Scouts like to be doing something useful for somebody else, but most of all for Uncle Sam."
Rob paused, rather alarmed at his temerity at thus addressing one of the richest men in the world.
"So you think I am wasting my time cruising, eh?" said Mr. Grant amusedly glancing at the upright, slender boy before him from under his heavy brows.
It was impossible to tell whether he was displeased or not. But Rob decided not to recedefrom his position. He knew that the Boy Scouts were supposed to be manly, self-reliant, and upright under all conditions. So putting his fears of offending the man before him aside, he spoke up boldly:
"It's different for you, sir. Your life work has raised your monument; but I think, and I guess my Patrol agrees with me, that it is better for boys to be on active duty and," he added, his eyes flashing and his cheeks glowing, "especially such service as we are now going on. It's—it's glorious," he concluded breathlessly.
"I think you are quite right, my boy," was the magnate's reply, a very different one from the rejoinder Rob had dreaded.
"I hope you don't think me presumptuous or impudent," replied Rob, "but you asked my opinion, and you know, sir, we Boy Scouts must always tell the truth. Perhaps it seems a poor return after you saved our lives, to——"
But Mr. Grant cut the boy short with a wave of the hand.
"Nonsense, all I did was to stand by and watch. If Donald had not understood those smoke signals, you might not be on earth now. But in return, I want to ask you to do something for him."
Rob nodded respectfully but said nothing. He wondered greatly what could be coming next.
"I want you to take Donald with you on this duty for Uncle Sam. The ensign here has agreed. Are you willing to make my son one of your party?"
"Are we willing?" stammered out Rob. "Why, sir, we've just been discussing what a shame it was that he had to go on a stupid old cruise—I beg your pardon, on a cruise—when real work lay ahead, and——"
But Donald had danced up to his father cheering and throwing his hat in the air. Then he rushed up to his newly-found comrades and a hand-shaking and "bear hugging" match ensued, such as is rarely seen except among lads who arereal companions, bound together by a common bond.
Suddenly above the tumult Rob's voice sounded.
"Boys, let's give the cry of the Wolf Patrol!"
Instantly savage growls resounded, and after that the Eagles joined hands, formed a circle about Donald, and danced a sort of war dance of joy, concluding with the screaming cry of their Patrol.
Mr. Grant and Ensign Hargreaves smilingly watched this scene.
When something like order had been restored, the latter announced the closeness of theSeneca.
This, too, was greeted with a cheer, which was cut short by the reappearance of Collins.
"I've been talking with theSeneca, sir, and he says that they are proceeding here at full speed."
"Good. That will do, unless you have any communications to make," said Mr. Grant, turning to the ensign.
"No, sir, none whatever," was the reply.
It was ten minutes later when Rob's sharp eye descried a trail of smoke on the horizon. A short time after, by the aid of glasses, the craft was made out to be theSeneca, bound at full speed for the yacht. On the latter's signal-halliards up went a gaudy string of signal flags announcing her identity. The signal was answered from the Derelict Destroyer, which also fired a gun in honor of the recovery of the castaways.
By midafternoon good-byes, warm and hearty, had been said, three ringing cheers exchanged between the crews of both craft, and theBrigandwas headed due south, while theSenecamade in toward the coast. Long before sunset both craft had vanished from each other's sight.
"So that was one derelict that Uncle Sam did not have to destroy," laughed Ensign Hargreaves to Lieutenant Murray as they stood side by side on the bridge.
"No," rejoined the other, "she committed suicide; but if it hadn't been for our young recruit, Donald, she wouldn't have gone to her grave alone!"
An island, a sandy, scantily grown spot of land, shaped like a splash of gravy on a plate, loomed up over theSeneca'sbow. On it stood a shed, two naked masts with wireless antennæ strung between them, and some tents, and that was all, except that, removed from the shed mentioned above, was a similar and larger structure. This second structure was built on piles right out over the sea, and as the coast of the island declined abruptly at this point, there was considerable water under its corrugated iron roof.
"So that's Barren Island?" asked Rob, who, with the boys and the two officers, was standing on the bridge of theSenecaregarding with themost intense interest that desolate spot of land.
Beyond it lay other islands equally barren, so that applicability of the name was not quite clear, while in the dim distance a faint blue line betokened the Carolina coast.
"Yes, that is Barren Island," nodded Lieutenant Murray; "and strange as it may seem, the hopes of the Naval Department are centered right at this moment on that sandy patch yonder."
"Seems queer, doesn't it?" commented Merritt.
"Queer but safe," smiled Ensign Hargreaves.
"I'm aching to get ashore," exploded Donald eagerly. "Is that a powerful wireless?"
"It is capable of sending up to three hundred miles on an average, and more under favorable conditions," was the reply.
"What's in that big shed?" demanded someone.
"That houses thePeacemaker. The shore shelves off abruptly and the submarine is housed under that roof in more than forty feet of water."
"And the other building?"
"A combination cook house and dining room."
"Shall we have lots to eat?" asked Tubby, his eyes glistening as he heard.
"Plenty, I hope," rejoined the ensign smiling. "There is an ample stock of provisions, and they will be received from the mainland as occasion requires."
"But how shall we reach the mainland?"
"In a powerful motor boat," was the reply.
"Say, this is going to be a regular picnic. I thought you chaps said hard work lay ahead of us," complained Donald.
"Don't worry," laughed Rob; "I guess we'll find lots to do."
"Never fear," struck in the ensign. "Besides the inventor of thePeacemaker, Mr. Danbury Barr, and ourselves, there will be only three trusted sailors, familiar with submarine work, to conduct the tests; so you see that you boys will have your time well occupied."
"Are those tents for us?" asked Paul Perkins interestedly.
"Why, no. You brought your own camping outfits with you. I shall sleep in one, Mr. Barr in another, while the third will be occupied by the sailor assistants."
"And they are already there?" asked Rob.
"Watch," smiled Lieutenant Murray.
He seized the whistle cord and blew three resounding blasts.
Instantly, from the large shed referred to as housing the submarine, four figures appeared, three wore sailor garb and the fourth, it could be seen, was in overalls and shirt sleeves.
They waved and the boys cheered.
"I guess we'll drop anchor right here and take you ashore in a boat," said Lieutenant Murray.
The necessary orders were given, the chain roared out, and theSenecaswung at anchor off Barren Island in twenty fathoms of water.
"Can we go down as deep as that in thePeacemaker?" inquired Rob.
"Deeper, much deeper," was the rejoinder; "we hope to go deeper than any submarine has ever been before."
"Whoof!" exclaimed Donald.
"What's the trouble?" inquired Merritt.
"Oh, nothing; only it makes a fellow feel kind of creepy, that's all," was the rejoinder.
No sooner had the anchor been dropped, than a scene of great activity ensued. The wireless operator of theSenecawas flashing signals back and forth with the shore station, and sailors were piling Boy Scout equipment into one of the boats while another was lowered for the passengers. Donald had his own outfit, it having been on board theBrigandwhen he transferred to theSeneca. Although he was the son of one of the richest men in the world, it in no wise differed from the other lads' outfits, except that it had not seen such hard service as theirs had been through.
At last all was ready, good-byes were said, andnot without some regret the Boy Scouts left their kind friends of theSenecabehind. Ashore a warm welcome greeted them. Mr. Danbury Barr proved to be a tall, lean individual with a prominent, thin-bridged nose, and sharp, gray eyes with all the keenness of a hawk in them. His skin was burned a deep golden brown by his sojourn on the island while getting his craft in readiness for the tests. Like most inventors he had not much to say, but seemed to be agreeable and glad to see the newcomers.
The three sailors, as became them in the presence of an officer, stood respectfully back without saying anything, only drawing up and saluting. But this was not the case with a man who has not yet been mentioned. This was an individual named Luke Barton. He was Mr. Barr's expert machinist and mechanical superintendent. Rob took an instinctive dislike to the fellow. Not that there was anything actually repulsive about him. On the contrary, he was a well-set-up chapof about thirty-five, dark haired and mustached; but it was something shifty in the fellow's eyes that made Rob distrust him. This impression was not removed when he asked of Mr. Barr, in a voice by no means an undertone:
"What's this parcel of kids doing here? Looks like a Sunday school picnic."
Mr. Barr explained.
"Oh, a bunch of kid tin soldiers," he sneered, and strode off swinging a big monkey wrench. Right then and there Rob's instinctive dislike of the man crystallized into a feeling of distrust. He felt sure that the fellow had some reason to resent the presence of the Boy Scouts.
Mr. Barr made no comment on his assistant's remarks, doubtless not thinking that they had been overheard. In fact, the rest of the party, except Rob, had been standing at some little distance when the fellow uttered his sneering jibes.
Under Mr. Barr's guidance the party toured the island. It was about half a mile across and slightly longer than its width. Coarse grass grew almost to the water's edge, and in the centre, where it rose in a cone-shaped formation, some stunted, wind-twisted bushes grew. Also on the summit was a driven well, which was formed of galvanized piping, and went down, so the boys were informed, for more than two hundred feet.
But to the lads of the Eagle Patrol the most interesting thing on the island was, of course, the shed that housed the submarine. This shed was open at both ends, and under its iron rooflay the submarine craft. Lying as it did, with only its rounded back showing above the surface of the water, it reminded the boys of a sleeping whale.
On the top of it, amidships, was the conning tower, with thick glass lenses for observation. From the conning tower also protruded the periscope, an instrument which enabled the operators of the craft to see the ocean about them even when submerged some twenty feet below the surface.
A stout rail ran around the top of the hull so as to allow the crew to walk along the slippery decks without danger of going overboard. But it was the interior that the boys were most anxious to see, and a glad rush followed when Mr. Barr invited them on board. Access to the conning tower was gained by a gang plank running from the side of the shed. Reaching the conning tower, with a press of eager lads about him, Mr. Barr threw open a metal door inthe top of the observation post, and climbed inside. The boys needed no invitation to follow him.
Inside they found themselves in a compartment much resembling the wheelhouse of an ordinary surface craft, except that there were various instruments to show submergence, and the quality and pressure of the air, and devices for handling the engines; for one of the features of Mr. Barr's invention was that it could be handled by one man once the engines were going.
Leaving the conning tower, they descended a steel ladder into the heart of the submarine. The centre was occupied by a comfortably fitted-up room which contained, among other things, a small library and a phonograph. The inventor switched on a button and the "cabin," as it may be called, was instantaneously flooded with a soft light, bright but not glaring. In the bulkheads at either end of this compartment were doors, steel riveted and solid looking. The inventorexplained that beyond the stern one were located the engine room and crew's quarters, while on the other side of the forward portal lay the sleeping quarters, galley or kitchen, and bathroom. Beyond these again came the torpedo room, which contained the machinery for launching the death-dealers. Each of these was inspected in turn, the boys being delighted with the compactness and neatness of everything.
"Now," said the inventor, "we will visit the engine room." Paul Perkins and Hiram looked interested; machinery was one of their hobbies.
ThePeacemakercarried two sets of engines, electrical for running under the surface, and gasoline for use above water. The engines were fitted tandem-wise, and to their shafts were attached twin screws of a novel design that gave great speed and controlled the submarine easily. The gasoline engines were of fifteen hundred horse-power each, and the electrical had a trifle lower capacity.
In the engine room, too, were the powerful pumps used for emptying or filling the submarine's submergence tanks as it was desired to rise or descend. Aft of the engine room came the gasoline tanks, the storage batteries, and some minor machinery, such as an ice-making plant, air compressor, and so on. In the engine room, too, was a comfortable upholstered lounge for the engineer on duty to rest upon. Several dials and gauges were on the walls of this compartment, enabling the engineer to know at all times under just what conditions the submarine was proceeding.
It was in the engines themselves that the inventor had excelled all other types of submarines, as well as in the peculiar attributes of the hull. Extra tanks were provided whereby, in the event of the main supply of gasoline giving out at any time, thePeacemakercould be run quite a distance on those alone.
"How long could you stay below the surface?"asked Rob, as they came back into the main cabin once more. There they took their seats on broad leather divans which at night time could be converted into beds or bunks by pulling a lever which caused them to turn over and reveal a snug resting place.
"I have not yet made an exhaustive test of that," rejoined Mr. Barr, "but I estimate that we could remain below, if necessary, forty-eight hours."
"Forty-eight hours!" gasped Rob incredulously.
The inventor nodded calmly.
"My air purifying device makes this supposable. I have a plan by which fresh, pure air is almost manufactured. At the same time the foul air is forced out."
"I suppose you boys are aching to take a trip," laughed Ensign Hargreaves.
"Aching is no word for it," Rob assured him.
"Well, you may have a chance to-morrow,"said Mr. Barr; "I am going to test out the whole craft thoroughly, and you boys can come along if I go."
For the next five minutes nothing could be heard but enthusiastic shouts. The boys fairly went wild with delight at the prospect of a trip below the ocean's surface. Soon afterward the party emerged from the submarine in time to see theSenecamaking out to sea on her return journey. She carried letters from the boys to their families, as they were by no means sure when they would get the next opportunity of sending a letter north.
The next hour was occupied in making camp. Then the Stars and Stripes and the Eagle banner went up. Donald had no Wolf banner with him, but above his tent he hung up something that resembled a wolf's head, painted on a bit of canvas.
"Looks more like a chicken than a wolf," scornfully sniffed Tubby when he saw it.
"You couldn't think of anything but something good to eat, could you?" was Donald's crushing reply.
By the time camp had been made and everything placed neatly in order, Andy Bowles, on Ensign Hargreaves' order, sounded the dinner call.
"That's the call that Tubby never forgets," laughed Rob, as the stout lad cantered off in the direction of the combination dining hall and cook house above mentioned.
They found a bare, pine table, scrubbed scrupulously clean and set with metal plates and cups. Lieutenant Hargreaves showed each boy to his seat, while he and the inventor sat at opposite ends of the board. The sailors, and the machinist who had impressed Rob so unfavorably, ate later.
The cook, a stout, good-natured looking negro, came bustling in with a huge bucket-like pan full of steaming soup. Tubby's eyes glistened as hesaw it, and soon he was piling in prodigious quantities of it. The soup was followed by salt beef, potatoes, and other vegetables, and then came a big wedge of cocoanut pie.
"We get fresh meat fairly often," explained Mr. Barr, "but the launch has not been to the mainland recently, so we have to get along on what sailors call 'Willie'."
"Isn't there game of any kind hereabouts?" asked Rob.
"Oh, yes. There are several shore birds of different varieties, but we have really been too busy of late to go after them. Now that you boys have come, however, you can take out my shot guns—I have three of them—and see what you can do as hunters."
"Are the shore birds good eating?" inquired Tubby with his mouth full of pie.
"Yes, Master Hopkins. Epicures, in fact, declare that there is no better dish than roasted plovers."
"I'll take one of the guns," declared Tubby, his eyes glistening, as, even his appetite satisfied for the while, he sank back in his chair.
As they filed out of the dining hall the negro cook announced to the sailors and the mechanic, by means of a big bell, that it was time for them to eat.
Rob, on his way to the camp, happened to pass by Luke Barton. He greeted the latter with a cheery nod.
"Going to eat, Barton?" he inquired.
The man glowered at him a minute, and then muttering something about "fresh kids eating up everything," he strode on toward the eating place.
"My gracious," exclaimed Tubby, who had witnessed the whole proceeding, "you and that fellow get along like a pair of panthers, don't you?"