As the officer of the deck advanced to obey the command a cry came from overhead. All eyes were turned in that direction.
In the excitement Nanny had been temporarily forgotten. The little lad had ran up the rigging to the foretop, then seeing that his friend was in trouble, he descended midway to the deck.
There he paused, and when Clif was ordered under arrest he made an exclamation of consternation.
The executive officer was angry. He believed the corporal’s story, and the very idea of such a gross breach of discipline was too much for his temper.
“Come down, sir!” he roared, shaking his spyglass at poor Nanny. “Come down at once or it will be the worse for you.”
A cadet first class man named Blakely, the captain of the academy football team, involuntarily leaped into therigging, thinking the pursuit of the fugitive was desired by Lieutenant Watson.
The latter’s stern voice and Blakely’s action proved the last straw, and Nanny fled upward again in dismay.
The rigging swayed under his hurrying feet and several times he came dangerously near falling. But fear lent confidence, and he gained the top without mishap.
Lieutenant Watson watched his progress with mingled amazement and rage. In all his experience he had never known a cadet to run aloft to escape punishment.
“The boy is crazy,” he muttered.
“Shall we send several men after him, sir?” asked the officer of the deck.
Before a reply could be given the commander of theMonongahela, who had been in his cabin, walked forward attracted by the commotion.
“What is the matter?” he asked, glancing at the cadets.
“A little trouble between Cadet Corporal Sharpe and two new fourth class men, sir,” replied Lieutenant Watson, saluting. “Cadets Faraday and Gote attacked Cadet Corporal Sharpe and struck him while he was in pursuit of his duty.”
“What’s that?” exclaimed the captain, severely. “Striking a superior officer is a grave offense.”
Turning upon Clif, he added:
“Young man, it seems that you intend to keep yourself before the public. It was all right for you to create disturbances at the academy and be kidnaped, but when you assault a superior officer, you go too far. Your time as a cadet will be short if you persist in such actions.”
Clif attempted to speak, but he was cut short with a gesture.
“Where is the other culprit?” asked the captain, addressing Lieutenant Watson.
The latter pointed aloft.
“He fled to escape punishment, sir.”
“What?”
“He’s in the foretop.”
“Have him brought down at once and placed under arrest. I’ll court-martial both for this breach of discipline,” thundered theMonongahela’scommander.
At a signal from the executive officer, four nimble first class men sprang into rigging and began to run aloft.
The crowd around the spot had increased until it numbered almost the entire crew. All the officers off dutyhad left the wardroom and steerage, and many comments were made.
“Never seen anything like it in all my experience,” exclaimed the navigator.
“Think he’s temporarily insane, doctor?” the paymaster asked, gazing curiously aloft.
“Maybe a touch of sunstroke,” was the surgeon’s cautious reply.
He stepped over to the captain said something in a low voice.
Clif, who was standing a few feet away, between the master-at-arms and the ship’s corporal, heard the commander reply, incredulously:
“Nonsense, sir. It’s simply a spirit of deviltry. He thinks he can do as he pleases. He must be taught a lesson.”
Clif glanced aloft, where, indeed, all eyes were turned, and saw that the four cadets had almost reached the top.
Suddenly Nanny’s face, strained and eager, appeared over the edge of the wide top. He gave the pursuing cadets one rapid glance, then he scrambled into the rigging leading above and started to ascend.
“Stop! Come down out of that,” bellowed the executive officer, waving his spyglass.
The fugitive’s feet slipped and he was seen to sway outward. A frantic clutch at a stay saved him, however, and he continued upward.
“He will fall as sure as fate,” cried the paymaster, hoarsely.
Again Nanny slipped, and again did he regain his foothold. But it was evident his lack of experience would bring him into serious peril, and the spectators watched his uncertain progress with bated breath.
“He’ll never reach the crosstrees,” said Lieutenant Watson. “He is crazy. He will—— Oh! I thought he was gone then.”
“Mr. Blakely, don’t follow any farther,” he shouted. “Come back to the top.”
The senior cadet and his three companions halted instantly and slowly descended. Nanny quickly observed their change of action, and halted, swinging nervously from the ratlines.
A sigh of relief went up.
“Proper move,” muttered the surgeon. “Should havestopped them before. Guess I’ll try a trip to the top and see if I can coax him down.”
He made the suggestion at once, and the commander gave prompt consent. It was a ticklish task for his unaccustomed feet, but he finally arrived within speaking distance of the young fugitive.
The two held a very brief conversation, then the surgeon returned to the deck. His face wore a queer expression.
“That boy is no more crazy than I am,” he reported. “But he’s simply scared out of his wits. He declares he won’t come down until a certain cadet is sent up to him.”
“Who, in Heaven’s name?” demanded the captain.
“Mr. Clif Faraday.”
“Why does he wish to see him?”
The surgeon shook his head.
“I don’t know, sir,” he replied. “He insists on it. Possibly it would be a good idea to humor him.”
“I’d like to humor his back with a rope’s end!” exclaimed the captain. “This is the most ridiculous experience I ever had. Fancy a cadet skipping aloft and defying the whole ship’s company. It is simply outrageous. Mr. Faraday!”
“Yes, sir.”
Clif stepped forward and saluted respectfully. He appeared calm, but a gleam in his eyes indicated that he labored under some excitement.
“Run aloft and persuade that silly boy to come down,” ordered the captain, gruffly. “Tell him we won’t hang him to the yardarm to-day. And just add that he is making a fool of himself and that it will have a bad effect on his future record.”
Clif saluted again and sprang into the shrouds. As he passed Cadet Corporal Sharpe he gave that youth a look that spoke volumes.
“He’s the cause of all this trouble,” muttered Clif, as he nimbly ascended the rigging. “If any harm comes to poor Nanny I’ll square accounts with him as sure as fate.”
It did not take him long to reach the foretop. Climbing through the lubber’s hole, he stood up and looked aloft. Nanny was midway to the crosstrees.
His face was rather pale, and the hands grasping the ratlines trembled perceptibly. It was evident that he was still badly frightened. Clif motioned him to come down to the top.
“Drop down here, Nanny,” he said, kindly. “Everything is all right. Just descend carefully, and I’ll help you to the deck.”
“Oh, Clif, I’m afraid,” was the piteous reply. “I—I—struck an officer, and they’ll send me to prison.”
“Nonsense, chum. We are both in trouble on account of that ‘plebe deviler,’ Sharpe, but they can’t do much to us. I expect we will be court-martialed, but we’ve plenty of witnesses on our side. Come down, that’s a good boy.”
“You are not fooling me?”
Clif laughed encouragingly.
“That’s a nice thing to say,” he replied. “I am ashamed of you.”
Nanny smiled also, and prepared to descend. He cautiously lowered one foot and then started to follow with the other. As he did so he stepped, swayed outward, and after one frantic grasp at the rigging, fell down, down from the dizzy height.
A cry of horror came from the spectators.
“He will be killed!”
“Heavens! what a fall!”
Then came a sickening splash as Nanny’s body,bounding from the rigging, struck the water and disappeared beneath the surface.
Several cadets, among them Trolley, Joy and Toggles, sprang to the top of the hammock netting, but before they could leap overboard after the little plebe a figure was seen to cleave the air from above.
Amid the echoes of the second splash a shout went up in a regular torrent of voices:
“It’s Faraday!”
“Gently, men, lift him up gently. That’s it. Now, help in the other. What a dive that was!”
“Clean as a whistle. Best I ever saw. And think of the distance. Say, Masters, he’s a hero from Heroville.”
The lieutenant in charge of the cutter smiled and nodded his head.
“Ready! Pull away, men!” he ordered. “Take us back to the ship, coxswain.”
The first cutter of theMonongahelaswept over the tumbling waters of Chesapeake Bay under the steady impulse of four pairs of oars.
Lying insensible in the forward part was Nanny. Near him reclined Clif, fully aware of all that was going on about him, but thoroughly exhausted.
Trolley and Joy, members of the boat’s crew, were paying much less attention to their oars than to their chum.
Talking among the men is generally prohibited, but inthis case the rule was entirely lost sight of, and the crew conversed freely.
“Him should be Japan,” said Trolley, genuine admiration in his voice. “If boy do that in Japan navy they make him hero. Mikado give medal and all people sing songs.”
“But that is in Japan,” said Clif, with a return of his old winning smile. “Such little tricks are of common occurrence in this country. It happens every day.”
“Indeed it doesn’t,” broke in Joy. “Person might jump overboard, but not from the foretop. It was a lulu of a dive. And then when you touched water you didn’t stay under the surface five seconds.”
A rousing cheer and a tiger greeted the cutter as it swept alongside the gangway. Nanny was passed up and immediately taken to the sick bay. But when it came Clif’s turn, he rejected all aid and climbed up the side as nimbly as of yore.
On reaching the top of the gangway he glanced down upon a sea of enthusiastic, youthful faces. Grouped near the bulwark were twenty plebes. In the front rank were Toggles, Walters and others of Clif’s friends.
“Whoop! here he is!” shouted the former. “Up with him, fellows.”
Clif made an effort to escape, but he was seized and borne in triumph, wet as he was, about the deck.
At the procession passed the mainmast, the captain, who had been smilingly watching the scene with the other officers, stepped forward. Clif was immediately lowered to the deck.
“Mr. Faraday,” said the commander, “an act such as yours deserves all praise. I will mention you in my reports, and will also keep an eye on you in the future. As for that little trouble we will forget it. But I may as well add that it would be better for you and Mr. Gote to obey the rules as you find them. That will do.”
Clif bowed and went forward with the other cadets. He still felt, however, that he was laboring under an unjust cloud.
As he reached the gun deck hatch the apothecary came up and said as he hurried aft:
“Your friend has just recovered consciousness, Mr. Faraday. The surgeon says he’ll be all right in a day of two.”
“Thank God for that!” was Clif’s heartfelt comment.“Poor little chap! He has suffered enough for what he did.”
The words were overheard by Joy. The latter touched him on the shoulder and whispered:
“There’s that ‘plebe deviler,’ Cadet Corporal Sharpe, over there talking with Greene and Spendly. He looks disappointed.”
“He’ll look worse than that in a moment,” replied Clif, grimly.
Joy thrust out his lean, tanned face and gaped at him.
“You—you don’t mean——” he gasped.
Just then Cadet Corporal Sharpe sauntered past and descended the ladder leading below, with a swagger. Clif followed at his heels, and Joy, after a delirious signal to all standing near, followed him.
As the plebe from Nebraska reached the gun deck he saw Clif confront Sharpe.
“You are too contemptible to talk to,” he heard the former say; then Clif reached out and, catching Sharpe’s nose between his fingers, gave it a disdainful tweak!
The effect upon the cadet corporal was much as if the deck overhead had suddenly been lifted off and the blue canopy of heaven exposed to view.
He staggered back, glaring at Clif in stupefied amazement.
The latter’s face wore a grim look of determination; and that strange smile, which was a signal of danger to all who knew him, hovered about his mouth.
He was resting lightly upon his feet, poised for the attack he knew would follow.
Sharpe attempted to speak, but the words came in a stuttering stream. He was wild with rage.
Leaping forward, he aimed a blow, but before Clif could parry it, Blakely, the big first class man, intervened.
“Not here, you fool,” said the latter, warningly. “This is no place for a scrap. If you want to fight the cheeky plebe go forward to the washroom.”
“If I want to fight?” cried Sharpe, struggling to free himself from Blakely’s detaining hands. “He pulled my nose, and I’ll kill him.”
“Then do it in the proper place,” was the cool reply. “Go to the washroom.”
“I’m perfectly willing to fight him there or here, or any old where,” announced Clif. “And I’ll do my best to give him a thrashing he won’t forget in a hurry.”
“You may receive one yourself,” said the big senior.“Get those wet clothes off and meet us forward. Be quick about it. We get up anchor at five bells.”
Clif was attended by Joy and Trolley, and five minutes later he entered the washroom to find it almost packed with cadets.
A space was cleared in the center and preliminaries arranged by Joy and a second class man. Blakely was to act as referee.
When Clif stepped out, stripped and ready for the fray, Sharpe advanced to meet him. The hazer’s face was not pleasant to contemplate.
He was naturally a bully at heart, and his disposition was mean and small. The two attacks upon him that morning—attacks by two “miserable” plebes at that—had brought out all the vindictiveness of his petty nature.
Faraday confronted him calmly, but that old smile was very pronounced. Trolley and Joy, who knew it well, gleefully rubbed their hands.
“Time!” called Blakely. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” clearly replied Clif, standing on the defensive.
Sharpe barely nodded.
The signal came, and the two enemies—for such they were, in truth—began to spar cautiously.
But this caution lasted not a minute. Sharpe, plainly wild with anger, made a furious attack and succeeded in beating down Clif’s guard. The result was a stiff tap upon Faraday’s chin which sent him reeling against the bulkhead.
A subdued howl of delight came from the members of the upper classes. The plebes looked glum, but Trolley and Joy, who were attending Clif, showed no signs of discouragement.
Time was again called.
Sharpe advanced confidently, and Clif saw him wink at several friends.
The “plebe deviler” essayed the same tactics, but he did not succeed so well as before. The round ended with a furious exchange of blows which left several angry blotches upon Sharpe’s face.
When the two faced each other for the third time, Clif instantly made a feint with his left and let drive with all his force with his right directly into Sharpe’s face.
There was a crunch and a thud, a gasping cry and the cadet corporal found himself upon the hard deck, his head dancing amid a whole galaxy of stars.
He scrambled erect and fairly tore himself from thehands of those about him. He was seen to tear something from his pocket and spring at Clif.
There was a flash, a warning cry from the spectators, then Faraday shot out both hands, landing with terrible force upon the chin and neck of the infuriated cadet.
Sharpe fell like a log, and at the same moment something dropped from his grasp with a metallic clatter.
“He’s knocked out, and pretty badly, too,” announced Blakely, amid a confused murmur of voices.
“He deserved to be killed!” exclaimed Joy, picking up something from the deck. “Look at this!”
It was a claspknife, open and ready for use.
“That lets him out,” muttered Blakely, grimly. “He’ll not suffer from too much companionship this cruise.” Raising his voice, he added:
“We may have differences with plebes, but we are gentlemen. Any person who associates with Sharpe hereafter is a cad.”
And Blakely’s decisions were always respected.
“Hurray!” cheered Trolley, embracing Clif. “You bully boy from backway. You do plenty for plebes to-day. Hurray!”
For several days nothing of importance happened. Then came a storm and Clif was placed on the lookout.
“Sail O! Ship dead ahead! Look out, she’s——”
The startling cry, wafted aft from the forecastle by a sudden shifting of the gale, came to an end just as the officer on watch awakened to the fact that something was wrong.
Grasping his trumpet more firmly, he peered through the gloom enshrouding the ship like a damp mist, and then bawled, lustily:
“Foc’s’le, ahoy! What have you sighted?”
There was a commotion about the wet, littered decks. Crew and cadets slipped from their shelters and glanced anxiously out into the storm-tossed waste of waters. The executive officer, who had just retired, hastily reappeared, armed with his nightglass, and silently took his station on the quarter-deck.
All waited breathlessly for the answer from forward.It was tardy in coming, and the executive officer snapped out:
“Forward, there! Why don’t you answer?”
A tall, slim figure, swathed in oilskins, swayed up to the speaker from beyond the foremast, and saluted as well as plunging deck would permit.
“I have investigated the matter, sir. The cry was given by a new fourth class cadet, acting as lookout on the starboard cathead. He fancied he saw a ship directly in front, and he gave the alarm.”
“What is his name?”
“Clifford Faraday, sir.”
“Humph! was he asleep?”
“I do not think so, sir.”
“He’s a bright lad, Mr. Watson,” interposed the officer of the watch. “I stationed him up there for that reason. He’s not the one to sleep on duty.”
“But he must have been dreaming to act in that manner,” impatiently replied the executive officer. “What did the other lookouts——”
“Ship ahoy! She’s dead ahead! Watch——”
The cry rang out sharply above the roaring of the gale, and, as before, it came to a sudden ending. There wasa moment of silence, then the cadet officer of the forecastle, who had just made a report, exclaimed wonderingly:
“It’s Faraday again!”
Brandishing his telescope like a sword, the executive officer sprang forward, followed by the other officers and a score of men and cadets.
On reaching the forecastle they found Clif leaning far out over the rail, hanging with one hand from a stay.
He was peering eagerly through the gloom at a point just off the starboard bow.
“What is the matter here?” harshly exclaimed Lieutenant Watson. “Who gave that alarm?”
Clif turned and leaped lightly to the deck. One hand came up to the rim of his cap in prompt salute, then he replied, in a clear, strong voice:
“I gave the alarm, sir.”
“What for?”
“Because I sighted a ship dead ahead, sir. We were almost on top of her when she disappeared.”
The executive officer made a gesture of impatience.
“This is sheer nonsense, Mr. Faraday,” he exclaimed. “You have been dreaming.”
“Dreaming, sir?”
Clif drew himself up. His face, seen in the light cast by a hand lantern, reddened.
“Yes, dreaming. You have been asleep, sir,” insisted Lieutenant Watson, whose temper was not the best. “It is a grave breach of discipline, and I warn you to keep awake on watch in the future.”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” replied Clif, respectfully, but with firmness. “I must deny having been asleep. I have walked back and forth across decks during the whole watch. I passed the call at each bell, and I know I saw what I have claimed.”
“Where is it, then?”
Clif glanced out across the water, which foamed and leaped in giant billows under the force of the gale. The air was filled with flying spume, and rain beat downward with steady persistency. It was a wild night.
The thick mist hemmed the ship in a black horizon, and naught was visible to the curious eyes of the group on the forecastle. Several of the cadets laughed, and one said in a tone plainly audible:
“He saw theFlying Dutchman, I guess.”
The words did not escape Clif, but he gave no sign ofhaving heard them other than one quick glance at the speaker.
“I do not know where the ship is now, sir,” he replied, steadily, to the executive officer’s question, “but I am certain I saw one. It was nothing but a hulk with two masts having curious round cages at the top. There weren’t any yards or sails visible.”
“You are describing a lightship, Faraday,” said Lieutenant Watson, smiling incredulously. “And there are none within fifty miles of us. Take my advice and do not cultivate the habit of riding nightmares on watch.”
With this last bit of sarcasm the officer walked aft and rejoined the officer of the deck.
“It is hard to believe such a manly, clever cadet as Faraday would lie deliberately to get out of a scrape,” he said, “but it certainly looks as if he has been trying it. Fancy a lightship out here. Better take him off watch, or he’ll be keeping us awake all night. When do you change the course?”
“At eight bells, sir. It is almost that time now. Good-night, sir.”
“Rather good-morning. There would be a glimpse of dawn in the sky if it wasn’t for this confounded gale.”
Lieutenant Watson crossed the slippery, tossing deck to the break of the cabin, and glanced at the clock back of the wheel.
The hands indicated ten minutes of four.
With a sigh for the sleep he had lost, he went below to turn in. Five minutes later he was buried in a slumber.
In the meantime Clif had been relieved from his post on the forecastle. When the cadet officer in charge, a first classman, curtly bade him give way to another plebe, he silently obeyed, but it was evident he felt the disgrace keenly.
“Don’t you care, Clif,” spoke up Joy, who had formed one of the group. “Such mistakes are common.”
“But it wasn’t a mistake, Joy,” replied Faraday, earnestly. “I am as certain I saw that ship twice as I am that I stand here.”
“Did it look like a lightship?” queried a smaller lad.
“I guess so, Nanny. The first luff said I described one. Whew! it was a peculiar experience. My flesh is creepy yet. I thought we would plump into her for certain.”
“Tell us all about it, old fellow,” chorused several plebes of the watch.
“It bad here,” spoke up Trolley. “Me think we blowaway pretty soon. This one lulu of a gale. It peacherine.”
“Right you are, Trolley,” laughed Clif. “The strength of the wind is only equaled by the force of your slang. We will take refuge in the lee of the bulwarks down below.”
The rest scurried to the main deck, but he remained a moment clinging to the railing, and searchingly swept the sea with his eyes.
“I can’t make it out to save me,” he murmured. “I was not asleep or dreaming. I saw that vessel as sure as fate. But why didn’t the others see it, too? Spendly was on watch on the other side of the deck. He—— Why, by Jove! probably he was asleep! It’s certainly mysterious.”
The oldMonongahelapitched and rolled heavily in the seas. The gale shrieked unceasingly through the taut rigging. Monster waves, wind blown and angry, leaped against the stout wooden hull as if eager to drag it apart. Flying masses of vapor, dank and salty, scudded through the air, and in the midst of it all the driving rain poured with a sleet-like sharpness against the faces of the watch on deck.
Ten hours previous the practice ship passed the capes of the Chesapeake.
Moderately fair weather had suddenly given way to a sharp squall shortly before dark, and this had changed by midnight to a gale which promised to last until morning.
Clif, with several of his plebe friends, had gone on watch at four bells—two o’clock—and it was while he was acting as lookout on the starboard side of the forecastle that he insisted he had sighted a vessel dead ahead.
He felt rather downcast when he finally left the forecastle and rejoined his chums under the lee of the port bulwarks. Lieutenant Watson’s sarcastic words hurt him. And especially so, as he considered them entirely undeserved.
That he had really seen a vessel almost within a cable’s length of theMonongahelahe was positive. But why had not others seen it? And why did the ship disappear so mysteriously and suddenly?
Clif was not superstitious, nor did he place any faith in the tales of the old sailors, but his flesh crept as hecast one last glance at the raging seas, and he welcomed with gladness Nanny’s cheery voice.
“Hello, chum! See anything more of yourDutchman?” laughed the little lad.
“That’s what Judson Greene called it,” said Joy, gloomily. “He’s always trying to say mean things. Why can’t he be peaceful, and not always attempt to stir up trouble? Why ain’t he like me? When I have it in for a fellow, do I go around casting sneering remarks? No, indeedy! I act like a peaceful man and a Christian. I simply swat him one with a club, or beat the blooming head off him.”
“Hurray!” giggled the Japanese youth. “You bully boy after my own—my own—what you call him?”
“Liver!” suggested a lad named Toggles, gravely.
“Perhaps he means after his own gizzard?” slyly observed Nanny.
There was a general laugh at Trolley’s expense, and he laughed the loudest of all. Nothing could shake his good nature.
Clif stooped down and, leaning upon a broadside gun, glanced thoughtfully through the crack of the port shutter.
“Still looking for your ship?” asked Toggles, sympathetically, at his elbow.
“Yes. But, to tell the truth, I don’t know whether I care to see it again or not,” was the grave reply.
“Why not, chum? It seems to me that if it was sighted again it would clear you of any suspicion. What is your reason for not wanting to see it?”
Clif did not reply at once. Resting against the polished breech of the heavy gun, he continued to gaze into the dark wall of mist. Presently he spoke, and his serious tone surprised his hearers.
“Chums,” he said, “do you know I believe there is some mystery connected with that strange-looking ship?”
“A mystery?” echoed Nanny, wonderingly.
“Yes. I am positive I saw it just as I described it to Lieutenant Watson. I was standing near the heel of the bowsprit looking ahead, when, suddenly there came a flash of lightning, and before the glare died away, I saw a peculiar-looking hull, battered and worn, with two masts clear of yards and sails. At each top was a queer, round object shaped like a barred cage. As far as I could see there was no one on board, and the vessel seemed—— Heavens! what was that?”
Clif’s description ended in an exclamation of profound amazement. There was good cause for it. Suddenly, and without warning, a horrible scream, blood-curdling in its intensity, sounded through the length and breadth of the practice ship.
It was not uttered by any on board, but seemed to come from off the port beam. There was an instant of breathless silence, then, just as the crew, aroused and horrified, rushed from below, a second terrible cry arose above the whistling of the gale.
The men at the wheel were so startled that, stanch seamen though they were, they involuntarily released the spokes. There was not much canvas exposed to the wind, merely the topsails and storm staysails, close-reefed, but there was enough spread to send the ship almost aback.
The captain, hurrying from his cabin, grasped the situation at once. A sharp word of command brought the sailors to a sense of their duty, and they hurled themselves upon the wheel just in time to keep theMonongahelafrom broaching to.
As she staggered around, trembling under the force of the gale, there suddenly came a startling cry from amidships.
“Ship abeam! Look! She is almost on us!”
The voice was Clif’s, and the lad, dimly revealed in the faint light of dawn, was standing upon the lower port main shrouds, pointing with shaking hand to where, lurching wildly toward the practice ship, was a grim, weather-beaten hull, with two bare masts, having cage-like objects in the tops.
The next moment there was a terrific crash and grinding of timbers; then, as theMonongahelareeled with the shock, the strange ship staggered away, that weird scream echoing from her deck.
Discipline is brought to an excellent state of perfection on all warships as a rule, and the practice cruiser was no exception.
Naval officers are trained to exercise instant discretion in time of danger, and it is considered a sign of incompetency if one should lose his wits under such circumstances.
Lieutenant Watson, the executive officer of theMonongahela, aroused from a sound sleep by the indescribable pandemonium, lost no time in heedless inquiries, but rushed on deck clad only in his nightclothes.
By the time he had cleared the companion ladder the officer of the watch and the captain of the ship were thundering orders right and left.
Under their instructions the oldMonongahelawas again before the wind, and an immediate examination of damages being made.
But in the midst of it all, over on the port side of themain deck, Trolley, excited and happy, was dancing about Clif, and shouting half in Japanese and half in English:
“You right, you right! Hurray! Hiko boto, cli jara. You see ship after all. Hurray! You bully boy. No sleep, but see ship all the time. You are great peach. Hurray!”
“I knew he was right all the time,” exclaimed Toggles.
“So did I,” chimed in little Nanny.
“The first luff was evidently of a different opinion,” said Clif, grimly. “But what can be the matter aboard that ship, and what is she?”
“There is something wrong on board,” spoke up Joy. “Those screams were horrible. My blood is running cold. Yet—look! there she is again!”
He pointed excitedly to leeward, where, dimly visible through the lightening mist, was the peculiar craft with which theMonongahelahad just been in collision.
She lurched and pitched and rolled with the wild irresponsible motion of a vessel at the mercy of the waves. The dawn was not far enough advanced to enable those on board the practice ship to distinguish more than vague outlines.
Every glass on board was directed toward the strangecraft as soon as it was ascertained that little damage had been done theMonongahelaby the collision, but nothing indicating the presence of human beings on board could be seen.
Clif and his friends were wild with curiosity, but not more so than their shipmates. The peculiar experiences of the night, the sighting and sudden disappearance of the stranger, the collision, and above all those weird, half-human cries, had created intense interest.
The captain, Lieutenant Watson and other officers were gathered in the gangway near where the carpenter and his assistants were making hasty repairs.
The gale was giving promise of lessening. The wind had died down with the coming of the sun, but the seas were still running high. Nothing had been done to increase the spread of canvas, and the old frigate lurched along at a reduced speed.
“I would give a great deal to learn what ship that is, and the meaning of those horrible cries,” said Captain Brookes, gravely. “There’s some mystery about it.”
“She looks like an old-time lightship,” spoke up the executive officer, working his spyglass.
“Hardly of this century though,” remarked the surgeon,who was a student of naval architecture from choice. “See! the mist is clearing now. The sun is shining on her. By Jove, what a queer-looking craft she is.”
“I’ve a notion,” began the captain, reflectively.
Standing at a respectful distance, but within earshot, were Clif and his companions. They edged eagerly toward the group of officers, and Faraday’s intelligent face lighted up with excitement and keen anticipation.
“He’s going to send a boat,” he whispered to Trolley. “If he does I’ll be one of the crew or break a leg.”
“Me, too,” chattered the Japanese youth. “I no miss that for——”
“I have a notion, gentlemen,” repeated the captain, “to send over there and investigate.”
“It’s our duty, sir,” said Lieutenant Watson, emphatically. “If you say the word, sir, I will take a boat now.”
“Any room for me?” asked the paymaster, earnestly.
“I can pull an oar, sir,” insinuated the marine officer.
“As navigator, I consider it my duty to make the visit,” spoke up a tall, fine-looking lieutenant.
The captain laughed.
“If it wasn’t against the rules I’d go myself,” he said. “As it is, the first deck officer shall make the trip. Mr.Jones,” turning to another officer, “take the whaleboat and a good crew, and see what you find on board that vessel. Better go armed. There’s no telling what you will encounter. Make haste, and bring me a detailed report.”
The practice ship’s course was changed, and in less than an hour she was hove to within a half-mile of the mysterious vessel.
The latter was in plain view now, and she presented a sight that brought exclamations of wonder and amazement from theMonongahela’s crew.
She was unlike anything in the shape of a vessel they had ever before seen. She was high forward and aft, with a curious house-shaped structure amidships. The masts were mere poles, guiltless of yards, ropes or sails. There was no regular bowsprit forward, but in its place was a queer, stumpy bow.
At the top of each mast were small, circular, wooden cages. The sides of the hull seemed to be painted green at first, but the surgeon’s sharp eyes soon ascertained that it was not paint, but a luxuriant growth of marine grass.
The decks were littered withdébris, and trailing overthe stern was apparently a mass of tangled ropes and sails.
This much was made out when the shrill notes of the boatswain’s whistle calling away the whaleboat echoed through the practice ship. Clif was disconsolate. His boat was the gig. He stood in the gangway watching the work of lowering the narrow, double-ended craft, wishing with all his heart and soul that he was one of the lucky crew.
Suddenly the coxswain poked his head above the hammock netting and called out that he was a man short.
The lieutenant who had been selected to go, glanced about the deck inquiringly. His eyes fell upon Clif, and that youth sprang forward, hopped nimbly up the main shrouds, and was descending the boatfalls before the officer could make up his mind to select him. A few moments later the whaleboat was clear of theMonongahela, and being propelled across the heaving sea by her sturdy crew.
Once, while the boat was swung around by a wave, Clif sighted the strange ship. Something moving near the bow caught his eye, and he gave a start and almost dropped his oar.
“Steady, there! What is the matter with you?” came sternly from the lieutenant.
Clif said nothing, but his hands trembled as they clasped the oar again. His brain was in a whirl. He longed to rub his eyes to see if he was still awake, or if that which he had just seen or fancied he had seen, was real or a phantom.
The cadet behind him said as he leaned forward:
“Did you sight anything? You look white and scared.”
Clif compressed his lips, and maintained an uncompromising silence. He was not certain of his own senses, and he had no desire to expose himself to ridicule.
The whaleboat swept on and finally gained a position on the lee side of the tossing hulk. A weather-beaten rope dangling over the side promised a means of ascending to the deck.
“Catch it, one of you,” shouted the officer. “Shin up the side and take the painter.”
The position of the boat brought the rope within reach of Clif’s hands, and he lost no time in obeying the order.
Fortunately the black tarry strands were strong enough to bear his weight, and he was soon climbing agilely toward the high railing.
Slipping and sliding, up, up he went, the pressure of his feet dislodging masses of the strange, slimy green marine vegetation adhering to the storm-beaten planks.
Finally he grasped the rail and crawled over. Then, just as he disappeared, those below heard a strangling, unearthly cry, followed by the sounds of a desperate struggle.
Then came one shrill, agonizing appeal for help, and—silence!
The lieutenant and the crew of the whaleboat, at first aghast with horror and amazement, speedily recovered their wits.
Springing to his feet, the officer made a grasp for the dangling rope. Before he could reach it, a long wave swept along the rolling hull and caught the whaleboat upon its crest.
There was a surge and a violent wrench, and over went the luckless officer headlong into the sea. The frail craft was swept under the sloping stem, dashed once against the hull, and then it capsized, throwing the whole crew into the water.
All this was witnessed by theMonongahela’screw, and excitement reigned on board.
Captain Brookes took personal charge of affairs, and under his able direction two boats, the cutter and sailing launch, were lowered and manned.
In the latter went Trolley and Joy, both managing to slip aboard during the excitement.
As yet the full extent of the tragedy was not known. Clif had been seen to climb over the railing, but the unearthly cry and the appeal for help had not reached the practice ship. Then came the capsizing of the whaleboat, and the instant necessity of action.
Lieutenant Watson took command of the cutter, which was the faster of the two. He was an able man, and he soon had the crew bending to their oars.
The gale was now a thing of the past; and the sea was rapidly subsiding. Clear skies overhead, and a brightly shining sun robbed the scene of much of its former grewsomeness.
In the sailing launch Trolley and Joy were laboring with might and main, as indeed all were. But the two young plebes had an added interest in reaching the strange derelict from the fact that Clif Faraday, their friend and chum, was on board the craft whence those horrible cries had come.
It was not long before the cutter reached the capsized whaleboat. Clinging to the keel were five of the crew.They were instantly dragged on board and a start made for the stern of the derelict.
The lieutenant and the rest of the crew were either swimming in that vicinity or holding on to the rudder.
The rather clumsy launch dashed up in time to rescue the officer, who had managed to keep himself afloat by strenuous efforts. As he was lifted over the side by willing hands, he gasped, hurriedly:
“Quick! board that vessel. Faraday is there, and he is in trouble.”
Trolley exclaimed something in Japanese, and sprang to his feet. Nimbly stepping forward, he made a flying leap from the launch’s bow, and caught the rope dangling from the derelict’s stern.
“Stop!” sternly cried the officer in charge. “Wait until you are ordered to leave the boat.”
But the young Japanese paid no heed to the words. The impetus caused by the leap sent him swinging and scraping along the slimy side of the strange craft, but he drew himself up inch by inch, and finally gained the rail.
“Stand by to catch a rope,” called out the lieutenant, making the best of the situation. “Make it fast to—— What’s the matter?”
Splash!
It was Trolley. The Japanese youth had suddenly turned, and, with a shriek of fear, had plunged headlong into the sea.
The crews of the cutter, launch and whaleboat exchanged glances of undeniable terror. Several seamen began shoving the boats away from the derelict with their oars.
“Belay that!” shouted Lieutenant Watson, in a rage. “Aboard the launch! pick up that cadet, and stand by to board. Here, Brown, steady this rope. I’ll see what’s up on this confounded craft.”
The last words were addressed to the coxswain, who instantly grasped the lower bight of the line and held it while the fearless officer ascended. Halfway to the top he held himself with one hand, and loosened his sword in its scabbard with the other. Then he began again to draw himself upward.
His progress was watched with breathless interest below. Suddenly the officer in charge of the sailing launch gave a muttered order. The crew fell to the oars and the launch dashed ahead toward the bow.
In the meantime, Trolley, dripping wet and evidentlybadly frightened, had been dragged from the water. His teeth were chattering, and his face had assumed a grayish pallor.
“For Heaven’s sake, what’s the matter up there?” queried Joy, in a frenzy of excitement. “Speak! where is Clif?”
The Japanese youth crouched in the bottom of the boat and muttered and shook his head like one demented.
Suddenly all eyes were drawn to the railing above by the horrible, unearthly cry first heard during the gale. It rang out with such blood-curdling intensity that the faces of the listeners blanched.
“We haven’t any business fooling here!” hoarsely muttered one of the oarsmen. “This consarnedFlying Dutchmanis ha’nted. I move we git as fast as we can.”
“And leave Faraday and Lieutenant Watson behind?” fiercely demanded Joy. “That’s a fine suggestion.”
Just then the sailing launch reached the bow. A quick scrutiny revealed several broken bolts and beam ends where the bowsprit and stays had been torn away. A fragment of chain was hanging down and swinging with a harsh, grating sound against the side.
“Climb up there, one of you,” called out the officer in charge.
Joy, who was nearest started to obey, but before he could leave the boat a prodigious hubbub came from aft.
Looking in that direction he saw Lieutenant Watson striking fiercely with his sword at something behind the rails.
An indescribable pandemonium came from the deck. Harsh cries and groans, wild shrieks, moans and a queer grunting sound which seemed more unearthly than all the rest.
One of the cutter’s crew was climbing the rope as fast as his arms could lift him, and another was preparing to follow.
Almost frantic with excitement, Joy fairly scaled the bow of the derelict. As his hand touched the broken rail, he heard the heavy breathing beneath him. A familiar voice gasped:
“Hurry, hurry, Joy! Me want to come, too. Hurry! I no afraid any more, even if I see plenty devil. Quick!”
The next moment Joy threw one leg over the bulwark and dropped to the deck. Then, with eyes bulging andface whitened to the color of chalk, he turned to spring back over the side.
Trolley grasped him by the arms and held him against the rail. A sailor appeared above the level of the deck, took one glance, then vanished. A sullen splash proclaimed his destination.
Joy’s fright faded by degrees. Finally he again looked down the deck over the little house-like structure amidships. What he saw was this:
Up on the high after, or cabin deck, were four horribly grotesque figures. One was a giant negro, coal black in color, and almost devoid of clothing.
Tied around his middle was a simple strip of some animal’s skin. His hair was long and matted. His mouth savage in its brutal gaping. His narrow eyes fierce and bloodshot. He was bleeding from a great wound, evidently just given him by Lieutenant Watson, who had retreated to the extreme after rail.
With the maniac, for such he seemed to be, were three monster apes, almost as large as a man. They were leaping about with appalling nimbleness, and uttering strange, blood-curdling, half-human cries.
Lying huddled in the port scupper was Clif, apparentlydead. His uniform had been rent in tatters, and a little rivulet of blood trickled back and forth upon the deck near him as the derelict pitched and rolled.
This much Joy and Trolley saw, then one of the apes caught sight of them.
The monster uttered a cry of rage, and, snatching up a fragment of spar from the deck, advanced upon them. It leaped with great agility, from the high after deck to the midship house, and then, still uttering its horrible screams, sprang upon the forecastle.
But by that time the two plebes had received reinforcements. The lieutenant in charge of the launch appeared over the railing, and, after the first gasp of surprise, ordered his men on board.
When the latter caught sight of the giant, gorilla-like ape advancing, there was a panic, but a stern word from the officer held the seamen and cadets to their duty.
Joy let fly with a belaying pin he had picked up, and it caught the monster squarely in the face, staggering him. The advantage was followed by the lieutenant without loss of time.
Springing forward with drawn sword, he lunged out, sending the point of the sharp blade into the ape’s breast.
There was a horrible scream of agony as the animal fell to the deck, a snap of the sword as it broke, then, after a few convulsive shudders, there was one foe the less.
In the meantime a prodigious hubbub from aft indicated action in that direction.
When the victorious crew of the launch started aft they saw that Lieutenant Watson had also received reinforcements. But it was plain that still others were needed.
The giant negro was fighting with maniacal fury. And the two apes were following his example so fiercely that the executive officer and his six companions were hard pressed to keep their ground.
The appearance of the launch’s crew changed affairs at once, however. Armed with cutlasses, belaying pins and cudgels, they fell upon the negro and his animal companions and, after a brief but desperate combat, forced them to retreat.
The maniac fought his way forward. As he was being pursued he sprang upon the port bulwark and, with a wild, chattering cry, leaped overboard.
A rush was made to the side, but all that remained to reveal the fate of the negro were a few bubbles and a widening circle of ripples. He had gone to his death.
The two apes were writhing upon the deck in their last agony. As the men turned back, they expired.
Trolley and Joy quickly kneeled at the side of Clif. Their faces showed their grief and anxiety. A hasty examination brought a whoop of joy from the Jap.
“He live,” he shouted. “Hurray! he no dead. Get water. Clif no die yet. Whoop!”
Lieutenant Watson, bleeding and exhausted, bent over the unconscious lad, and, with the aid of a flask of whiskey, from the launch’s medicine chest, soon brought a sigh from Clif’s lips.
He came to with a start and a gasp of terror. The latter emotion was so real that it required considerable effort to soothe him. When he at last realized the true state of affairs, his relief was manifest.
“Trolley,” he said, tremulously, “I—I thought it was the other world, and I had taken the toboggan slide by mistake.”
“You all right,” grinned the Japanese youth. “Hurray! It take plenty kill you.”
Clif managed to stand erect after his wound, a lacerated incision in the shoulder given by one of the apes, had been attended to.
Lieutenant Watson and the other officers made an inspection of the strange craft, and found evidences to prove that she had originally done duty as a primitive lightship in some southern Mediterranean port, presumably in Algeria.
“I am more inclined to think so from the fact that we found that African negro and the apes on board,” said the executive officer, as they returned from below. “I think I understand matters now. This negro was evidently an attendant on board, and the apes were pets.”
“It’s customary to have them on ships in those ports,” spoke up one of the officers.
“Yes. Well, the lightship evidently got adrift during a storm and was blown to sea, through the Gut of Gibraltar.”
“And afterward became a derelict in the Sargasso Sea. I noticed certain marine fungi and seaweed on the hull which are only found in the Sargasso.”
“True. This ship probably drifted back and forth for months. All the crew died except the negro, and he was made insane by his surroundings. It’s a strange story.”
“Only another mystery of the sea,” said the lieutenantin charge of the launch, looking about decks. “Now the question is, what will we do with her?”
“Have a little target practice and send her down to where all derelicts belong—the bottom,” replied Lieutenant Watson, grimly.
“I may add one thing,” he continued. “I hope never to have such a terrible experience again.”
“Amen!” muttered Clif, tenderly feeling his wounds.
Three hours later a well-aimed shot from one of theMonongahela’sguns sent the shattered hull of the mysterious derelict down to its last resting place.
The practice ship stood away on her course, and her crew of naval cadets speedily forgot the episode in the excitement of other experiences.