Captain Dodge stood near by urging on his men. Nor did he shirk any of the work himself. He fought the flames with all the fury of a determined man, but it soon became plain that it was an unequal struggle and that theJosephinewould never reach Buenos Aires or any other port for that matter.
“Man the boats!” shouted the captain.
The lifeboats were loosened on the davits and made ready to launch. A stock of provisions was placed on board of every one of them and preparations were made to embark. The four Go Ahead boys were assigned to one boat, together with Sam the cook and Petersen the Finn sailor.
“That’ll never do,” said John in a low voice to Grant. “Sam and Petersen in the same boat are bound to have trouble.”
“I’m afraid so myself, String,” said Grant, “but what can we do? Captain Dodge gave the orders and we must do as he says.”
“Wouldn’t he change them?”
“He might, of course, but I’m not going to ask him to.”
“No,” said John ruefully, “I don’t suppose we could do that. I guess we’ll have to put up with it.”
The wind had been steadily increasing in violence since the fire started and now was blowing almost a gale. It whipped the waves into foam and whistled and shrieked through the rigging. The fire, fanned by the breeze, now roared menacingly while its volume increased steadily. It was only too evident that it would be impossible to remain on board theJosephinemany moments more.
“We’d better get away from here,” said Fred nervously, as he watched the mass of flame and smoke which now enveloped the whole forward part of the ship.
“When we do leave we won’t be much better off,” said Pop gloomily.
“Just the same I’d rather take my chances with the ocean than with this fire,” exclaimed Grant.
“Where are we going!” demanded John.
“How do I know!” said Grant. “We must leave, that’s sure. What we are to do after we leave is another matter.”
“Stand by to lower away!” came the order.
The four boys sprang to their positions. Petersen and Sam joined them a moment later. The negro cook was half-crazed with fear and still kept mumbling to himself, “Dat Finn, dat Finn.” Undoubtedly he did not understand that Petersen was to go on the same boat with him or he would not have consented to step aboard. Now, in the darkness it was almost impossible to recognize anybody and Sam probably had no idea who any of his companions were to be.
“Lower away.”
The boats descended rapidly and soon rested upon the water where they danced and bobbed about like corks on the angry waves.
“Get aboard, Sam,” urged Grant.
Making no objection, the negro quickly lowered himself into the waiting boat. Fred, John, Grant and George followed in order, leaving only Petersen on board the brig. He stood with the painter in his hand, awaiting the word to leave.
“Unship your oars,” he called.
“All right,” answered Grant.
There were two pairs of oars in the boat and every one of the four boys took charge of one of them. Sam cowered in the bow of the boat shuddering and still murmuring over and over again, “Dat Finn, dat Finn.”
At the sound of Petersen’s voice from the deck above, however, he half raised himself. “Who dat talkin’?” he demanded.
“One of the sailors,” said Grant carelessly, knowing what was passing in the black man’s mind.
“Dat Petersen,” said Sam. “Am he comin’ on dis heah boat?”
“I don’t know,” Grant answered evasively.
“He bettah not. He bettah not,” said Sam fiercely. “We’s had enough hard luck on account ob dat man already.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” said Grant trying to quiet the excited negro.
“It was! It was!” Sam fairly shouted, at the same time trying to stand up in the skiff.
“Sit down, Sam,” ordered Fred sharply.
“Ah won’t sit down,” the cook cried menacingly. “Ah won’t do nothin’ if dat Finn am gwine git in dis heah boat. Ah tells yo’ all we’s had enough hard luck on account of dat man.”
“You’ll sit down or get out of the boat,” said Grant threateningly. “We won’t take any fooling here either.”
Sam subsided, but he still mumbled to himself incessantly.
“All right, get aboard,” John called to Petersen, though he took care not to call him by name.
Petersen threw the painter and jumped into the stern of the life-boat. The four oarsmen dug their blades into the water and the little craft shot forward. The other boats had also left and theJosephinewas now a blazing mass of wood. Sparks shot high into the air and in all directions only to fall with a hiss into the angry waters of the sea. The roar of the flames could be heard even above the noise of the storm which seemed to be increasing in intensity.
The four boys rowed a couple of hundred yards away from the burning brig and then rested on their oars and watched the destruction of the ship on which they had expected to go to South America. She was entirely enveloped in flames now and presented a wonderful but terrible sight as she was rapidly being devoured by the hungry fire.
All the occupants but one of the boat watched the fire. That one was Sam. He still remained huddled in the bow and never once did he look back. He moaned and groaned and raved until the rest of the party began to think that perhaps he was losing his mind.
Farther and farther from the burning ship drifted the tiny boat. All that the crew of it could do was to keep the stern straight into the waves and straighten her out when a great roller sent them flying. Lower and lower appeared the hull of theJosephine, when an occasional glimpse could be had of her from the crest of some huge wave. At length she disappeared, entirely burned to the water’s edge, and thus came the end of another brave ship. One more was added to the great ocean graveyard, already thick with the bones of many a gallant merchantman.
“She’s gone,” said George soberly.
“Yes,” said John, “and what’s going to happen to us?”
“We may be picked up,” exclaimed Fred hopefully.
“And we may not,” added Grant.
“Do you know where we are?” he asked of Petersen.
“I’ve no idea,” was the answer. “Somewhere near the West Indies, or maybe we’re right in them now for all I know.”
“Then we’ll soon find land,” said Fred as cheerfully as was possible under the circumstances.
“I hope it isn’t the land that’s at the bottom of the ocean,” said George.
“Don’t be so pessimistic, Pop,” urged Fred. “What’s the matter with you lately?”
“Nothing. We’re in a bad fix, that’s all.”
“Look out for this wave!” warned Grant suddenly as a great mountain of water loomed up behind them.
The little boat was driven along at the speed of a race horse for many, many yards, but fortunately she remained right side up. The four boys managed their oars skillfully and Petersen steered marvelously. Now and then some water was shipped but aside from that no harm came to them.
Gradually the wind died down and the storm abated. Night had now come upon them, however, and they were in a sorry plight.
“Where are the other boats?” asked Grant when an hour of silence had elapsed.
“I’ve no idea,” said Fred. “Has any one seen them?”
No one had. At least every one denied it but Sam, and as he had not once looked around him there was no chance that he had seen anything. Now he was asleep. He had made no move to help in any way and seemed to take it for granted that the others would look after him. His last words before he had closed his eyes were, “Dat Finn.”
“We’ve got some provisions, anyway,” said John.
“Yes,” agreed George, “but how long do you think they’ll last?”
“Plenty long enough to keep us going until we are picked up.”
“Don’t be so sure of that,” George advised. “At any rate, we have no water, and that’s even more important than food.”
“Yes, we have, too, Pop,” corrected Fred. “It’s right under my feet.”
“Yes, salt water, though,” grumbled George.
“Not at all. There’s a cask of fresh water right here in the bottom of the boat.”
“Give me some, then,” exclaimed George eagerly. “I’m half dead with thirst as it is now.”
“Don’t drink it now, Pop,” urged Grant. “We may be hard pressed for water, as you say, and I think we’d all better wait till morning. Then we can take stock of just what we have here.”
“That’s right, Grant,” agreed John heartily. “Don’t you think so, too, Petersen?”
“I do. We can surely get along without food and water until light comes, but in a day or so we may need it very badly.”
“You think we’ll be out here that long?” demanded Fred.
“I don’t know. Still you never can tell, and it’s always well to be prepared.”
“You’re right,” acknowledged George. “At any rate, I don’t want any water.”
It was a characteristic of these four boys that they were usually cheerful under any and all conditions. No matter how hard a thing might be, they bore it willingly if it was necessary. They made complaints if they thought it was unnecessary, but when they knew it was the only thing to be done they never raised a murmur. No sportsman ever complains of a thing that is fair, and what is best for the most people is always fair.
Hour after hour dragged by. To the little band on board the life-boat it seemed as if morning would never come. The storm had passed, but the water was still rough and the night still inky dark. Now and again the boys dozed off and caught a few winks of sleep. No attempt to row had been made for several hours. Petersen steered the boat and was the only one who did not rest. Incessantly through the long night he guided the little craft and watched over the safety of those on board.
At last morning came. The first faint streaks of light thrust their rosy fingers up over the eastern horizon and soon the whole sky was covered with an orange glow. Little by little the faint outlines of the occupants of the life boat became visible. What a sorry looking crew it was, too. Disheveled, dirty and unkempt, they plainly showed the effects of their harrowing experience.
As the light crept over the ocean it showed some of the party asleep. The others were haggard and worn looking and seemed to have but small concern as to what happened to them. They lolled on the cross seats in a listless way, not at all interested in the beautiful sunrise. They were more concerned in their own welfare than in the beauties of Nature.
“Oh, hum,” yawned Sam, raising himself from the position in which he had lain all night. “We sho’ has had a powerful lot of hard–”
He caught sight of Petersen and suddenly ceased talking. A change came over his face as he recognized the man to whom he charged the hard luck that had overtaken them. Hate spread itself over the features of the superstitious negro and his breath came in short gasps as if some one was choking him.
“Dar yo’ are!” he exclaimed fiercely. “Dar yo’ are, yo’ hard luck Finn. I’ll fix yo’,” and he started to make his way towards the stern of the boat to the spot where his enemy was seated.
“Sit down, Sam! Sit down!” cried Fred, who was placed nearest him. “What’s the matter with you? Are you crazy?”
Sam, however, made no answer. He strode forward toward the object of his hatred, paying no attention to Fred’s words and showing an absolute disregard of the danger of falling overboard. Fortunately in this peril the boat was heavy and very steady.
“Get back there!” cried Fred in alarm, trying to grab Sam’s arm.
“Lemme go,” said Sam roughly, knocking Fred’s hand aside.
“Grab him, John. Grab him,” shouted Fred as the excited negro made his way past the seat where he was located.
“Lemme go,” said Sam darkly, and seeing the look on his face John drew back instinctively.
“Hold him, Grant! Grab him, Pop!” shrieked Fred, at the same time rising to his feet and attempting to catch Sam from behind.
He was too late, however. Sam, seeing that he might be balked in his purpose, took no more chances. He made one flying leap almost over the heads of Grant and George, who were waiting to seize him. This was done so unexpectedly that the two boys were taken by surprise, and though they tried to do as Fred had begged them, they were unsuccessful. Sam tripped and fell forward, but when he landed he fell squarely on top of his enemy.
The boat rocked dangerously. Fred was thrown from his feet and fell headlong to the bottom of the boat. In falling his head struck one of the thwarts, so stunning him that he was unable to move.
“Separate ’em, Grant!” cried John. “Stop that fight!”
Grant threw himself upon the contestants and tried to pinion Sam’s arms behind his back. The negro and the sailor were both powerful men, however, and Grant was thrown violently backward as though he had been a mere fly. George caught him just in time to prevent his going overboard.
“I can’t stop them,” he gasped.
“Hit him on the head,” cried John. “Do anything. Make ’em stop. Here, let me get down there,” he begged.
“Sit down,” shouted George. “Sit down, John, or you’ll have us all upset.”
“No, I won’t, either. Let me get by.”
“Sit down, String,” begged Grant. “Keep your seat.”
“Take this oar, then,” cried John. “Hit that coon on the head with it.”
“It’s too big,” exclaimed Grant. “Give me something smaller and I’ll hit him all right.”
The two men in the stern of the boat were locked in each other’s embrace. Sam had had the advantage, for he had landed on top of his adversary. Petersen, however, had muscles of steel, hardened by years of service and labor on shipboard. He tried to grab the black man by the throat. The two slipped to the bottom of the boat, where they struggled for the mastery until the veins stood out on their temples and the sweat rolled from them in streams. Their breath came in gasps. It was a strange sight that the early tropical sun looked down upon.
They wrestled and writhed about on the bottom of the boat, first one on top and then the other. It seemed miraculous that they did not go overboard. The space in which they struggled was so limited that it was next to impossible for any one of the boys to get himself in a position to separate the fighters. Several times Grant tried, but he was always driven back, and after several narrow escapes from falling into the water he gave up the attempt. Fred still lay quietly in the bow, too dazed to be of assistance.
“We must stop this,” cried John. “They’ll kill each other.”
“I know it, String,” agreed Grant, “but what can we do?”
“Hit Sam over the head. He’s the one that started it.”
“I can’t get to his head. His feet are pointed this way and every time I try I get a few swift kicks and nothing more.”
“But we must do something to stop them,” urged George.
“All right, Pop,” said Grant grimly. “You suggest something.”
“Isn’t there a club in the boat?”
“I don’t see any.”
“Throw water on them.”
“We might do that,” exclaimed Grant. “Hand me that canvas bucket, String.”
Grant filled it to the brim with water and then soused it as nearly as he could into the faces of the fighters. The only effect it seemed to have was to revive them both and the struggle was continued with renewed fury.
“That won’t do,” cried Grant.
“It seems to be a question of who will weaken first,” remarked John, grimly. “I guess we’ll have to sit and watch until that time.”
“Not at all,” exclaimed George. “I say we all pile on and make them quit.”
“And all go overboard if we try that,” said Grant. “You forget that we’re in a boat, Pop.”
“Let me up there, then,” urged George. “I’m sure I can end the fight.”
Grant gave way to his comrade, only too willing to let some one else try his hand at the problem. They changed places carefully and George prepared to put his plan into execution.
“You better stay here beside me, Grant,” he exclaimed suddenly.
“What for?”
“We’ll each grab a foot and pull for all we’re worth.”
“What good will that do?”
“If we can pull one of them away it ought to stop the fight, oughtn’t it? A man can’t fight with himself.”
“All right,” agreed Grant. “We’ll see what we can do, anyway.”
“Be careful now,” advised George as Grant took his place beside him. “This is pretty ticklish business.”
The two boys knelt side by side on one of the seats. They leaned forward, eagerly waiting for a chance to seize the infuriated negro by his feet. This was no easy task, however, for his feet flew in all directions and kicked viciously backward, so that a few bruises were the sole results of the first attempts of the two boys.
“Hit him on the shins,” advised John. “That’ll fix him.”
“We’ll try this first,” said Grant doggedly. His knuckles were bleeding and his forearms were sore from the treatment he had received from Sam’s boots. The pain made him angry and more determined than ever to accomplish his purpose.
The fight was now desperate, even more so than before. No human beings could continue at such a killing pace for long, however. Sam still had the advantage which he had held from the beginning. His great powerful hands were now feeling for Petersen’s throat, and from the expression in the Finn’s eyes it was evident that he could not hold out much longer. Help must come to him and come quickly.
“I’ve got him,” cried Grant suddenly as he caught hold of one of Sam’s feet. “Grab the other one, Pop. Quick.”
George grabbed all right, and held on, too. He received a blow over an eye which opened up an ugly cut, but still he hung on desperately.
“Now, pull!” shouted John. “Pull with all your might!”
Both boys exerted themselves to the utmost. They braced themselves and pulled with all the strength that was in them. It was difficult for them even to hang on, however, for Sam struggled desperately and the two boys were thrown all about. Still they retained their hold.
“You’ve got him,” encouraged John. “Hold him.”
Suddenly Sam doubled up his legs, drawing both Grant and George forward, almost on their faces. Then quick as a flash he shot out with both feet, striking the two boys each full in the chest. Their grip was torn loose and they were sent sprawling backward, over the seat onto John, who too was bowled over so that all four boys lay in a heap on the bottom of the boat.
Grant was the first to regain his senses, and a strange sight greeted his eyes. Sam and Petersen were now on their feet, still locked in each other’s arms. Suddenly the Finn wrenched an arm free and drawing back struck the negro a stunning blow squarely between the eyes. Sam’s arms half dropped to his sides and he reeled drunkenly. Then quick as a flash he once more seized his enemy in his embrace and a moment later the two men went overboard.
There was a great splash. The sturdy life-boat rocked dangerously and then all was still.
John and George had now lifted themselves from their fallen position and all three boys peered eagerly about.
“Where are they? What happened?” demanded John.
“They went overboard,” exclaimed Grant.
“But where are they?”
“There they are, over there,” cried George. “Get out the oars.”
A dark head appeared for an instant and then sank beneath the surface of the water once more.
“That’s Sam,” cried John excitedly. “Swing the boat around.”
“I’m doing my best,” panted George as he dipped one oar deep into the water and pulled with all his might. In response to his efforts the boat came around until it was directly over the spot where Sam’s head had appeared. John and Grant hung over the sides ready to seize the negro the moment he was seen again.
“There he is,” cried Grant suddenly, and he made a lunge at Sam, who had come to the surface for the second time.
“Get him?” demanded John.
“Yes. Help me, somebody!”
John sprang to his assistance and a moment later the two boys dragged the half-drowned negro over the side into the boat.
“Where’s Petersen?” demanded Grant, loosing his hold on Sam and allowing him to sink to the bottom of the boat. “Have you seen him, Pop?”
“No,” said George, “I haven’t. I’ve looked everywhere for him, too.”
Fred had now recovered somewhat from the blow he had received and he joined the others in their search for the missing sailor. The four boys stood up in the boat and peered about them anxiously in every direction.
“Are you sure he didn’t come up, Pop?” asked Grant.
“I told you I’ve been looking for him,” said George. “I haven’t seen him at all.”
“But he must have come up,” protested John.
“Maybe he did,” acknowledged George. “I don’t believe it, though, for I’ve certainly been on the lookout.”
“What shall we do?” demanded John in dismay.
“What can we do?” said George.
“But he’ll drown.”
“He probably has already,” said Grant. “Think how long he’s been under.”
“And you mean to say we’ll never even find his body?” said John, almost unnerved by the sudden catastrophe.
“We’re going to look, anyway,” said Grant decidedly.
“Suppose we row around in a circle for a while,” Fred suggested.
“We can try at least,” said Grant, and fitting the oars into the oarlocks the four boys rowed slowly about, all the time keeping a sharp lookout in all directions. Meanwhile Sam lay motionless on the bottom of the boat. For at least half an hour the search was continued, but not one glimpse of the missing Petersen did they secure.
“I’m afraid it’s no use,” exclaimed Grant at last.
“I guess not,” agreed John. “It wouldn’t do us any good if we did find him now. He’s surely drowned by this time.”
“No doubt of it,” said Grant.
“And there’s the fellow who did it,” exclaimed George, pointing to Sam, who still lay huddled in a heap in the stern. No one had paid the slightest attention to the negro since he had been hauled aboard. He was exhausted, but in no danger, as could be plainly seen from his regular and heavy breathing.
“We ought to throw him overboard, too,” said John.
“He’s not entirely to blame,” said Grant. “He’s ignorant and superstitious and doesn’t know any better, but we do, and we must act accordingly.”
“He committed a crime, though,” said John, “and we ought to hand him over to the authorities.”
“What authorities?” said Grant with a grim smile. “Just look around you. There isn’t even a boat or a bit of land in sight, let alone authorities.”
“Then we ought to punish him ourselves,” insisted John.
“Who are we to do a thing like that!” said George. “We’ve no right to take the law into our own hands.”
At this moment Sam stirred and finally sat up. He was soaking wet still and very weak. He blinked at the sun, which was now shining brightly, and looked dazedly about him. The four boys watched him in silence.
“Where is I?” demanded Sam at length.
“Where do you think you are?” exclaimed John. “You’re in a boat.”
“DeJosephine,” muttered Sam. “Where am deJosephine?”
“As though you didn’t know,” said John scornfully. “You needn’t try to bluff us.”
“What dat?” said Sam in a puzzled way. “What dat you say?”
“I said you knew just as well as we do where theJosephineis,” said John, “and that you needn’t try to bluff us, either.”
The black man looked straight at John as though he did not understand a word that was said to him. His face was an absolute blank and if he was acting, he certainly did it well. He glanced down at his clothes.
“Ah’s all wet,” he murmured to himself.
“I suppose you don’t remember jumping into this boat and being out here all night,” exclaimed John skeptically, though he was nettled by Sam’s appearance of innocence.
Sam merely looked at him and shook his head.
“How about your fight with–”
“Keep quiet, John,” said Grant sharply. “Don’t mention that yet.”
“What dat?” asked Sam, looking curiously from one boy to the other.
“Nothing, Sam,” said Grant quickly. “Don’t you remember the fire?”
“De fire?” said Sam, completely mystified. “Wha’ fire?”
“On theJosephine,” exclaimed John. “Don’t you know that she burned to the water’s edge?”
“Ah does remember dat fire now,” said Sam eagerly, a gleam of understanding showing in his face. “She done come out ob de hatchway, didn’t she?”
“It did,” agreed Grant. “After that don’t you remember how we all jumped into the boats and rowed away? Don’t you remember that?”
“’Deed Ah don’t,” said Sam. “Ah don’t remembah a thing about dat ar.”
“Are you sure?” demanded John sharply.
“Sho’ Ah is,” exclaimed Sam sincerely. It did not seem to the four boys that he could be fooling, his manner seemed so earnest.
For some moments no one on the little boat spoke a word. The boys sat and looked at Sam, and he sat and looked at them and at the boat and the boundless ocean stretching on every side as far as the eye could see. Not a sign of life could be seen on it anywhere. There was no trace of the other boats that had set out from the burning brig and it was impossible to conjecture what had happened to them.
Finally Sam sighed deeply and he sank back against the stern of the boat as though he was exhausted. His eyes half closed and he yawned sleepily.
“Ah’s tired,” he murmured, and straightway fell asleep once more.
“What do you think of it?” demanded John a moment later.
“Think of what?” asked Fred.
“Do you think that Sam really doesn’t remember all that happened?”
“It’s possible, all right,” said Grant.
“But how could it be?” John insisted.
“Well, I’ll tell you,” explained Grant. “Sam was scared to death in that storm; you all know that. He was moaning and groaning around the boat and when the fire started he might easily have gone out of his head. Perhaps he was even stunned by the lightning. Since that time he has been in a state of unconsciousness, and now he doesn’t remember a thing that he did. Oh, I think it’s perfectly possible.”
“It’s certainly strange,” mused George.
“It surely is,” exclaimed John. “Still if he wasn’t telling the truth he certainly is a fine actor.”
“I’ve heard of such things happening before,” remarked Fred.
“What do you mean?” said John.
“Why, people being in sort of a blank state when they do things that they don’t remember at all later.”
“What made Sam that way?” said John.
“I told you,” exclaimed Grant. “He was so frightened it probably drove him temporarily out of his head. Unconsciously he blamed it all on poor Petersen so that when he saw him right here in the same boat, his one idea was to get revenge.”
“Can we blame him then?” said Fred. “If a man doesn’t know what he is doing, is he responsible?”
“I’d hate to decide that,” said Grant. “At the same time I don’t see how we can hold it against him, especially when he doesn’t know what it was.”
“When we get back to civilization we may have to tell on him though,” remarked John. “Don’t you think we’ll have to do that?”
“Wait till we get there,” advised Grant. “From the look of things right now, it doesn’t seem that we are going to get there very soon.”
“It’s funny we don’t see any boats,” said George.
“Or land,” added John.
“How about some food?” exclaimed Fred. “We haven’t eaten in a long time you know.”
“That’s right,” Grant agreed. “We can eat something anyway. Somebody open up the food, and the water too.”
Ample provisions for several days were found to have been placed aboard and the taste of food worked wonders with the unfortunate boys. They were sparing of it, however, and even more careful of their water supply. While in all probability they would be picked up before long by some passing steamer, it was deemed advisable to go slowly. The rations apportioned were divided into five equal parts, the four boys quickly consuming their shares while Sam’s was kept out for him until he should awaken.
“Don’t a good many steamers pass this way?” said Fred.
“I don’t know,” said Grant grimly. “Where are we?”
“Somewhere near the West Indies, I suppose,” said Fred.
“Perhaps we are,” Grant agreed. “Personally I don’t know.”
“Shall we row?” suggested John.
“What’s the use?” exclaimed Fred. “We don’t know which way to go.”
“I’ve a compass, you know,” said George.
“That won’t help us now, I’m afraid,” said Grant. “If we knew where we were, it might.”
“We’re in the tropics all right from the feeling of that sun,” said John.
All day long the little party drifted idly about on the ocean. The water was almost still, as there was hardly a breath of air stirring. Not a sail appeared to break the monotony of the scene and the boys began to feel worried. The sun was scorching and they had no protection at all. Finally, night came with a welcome fall in temperature, but otherwise they were not one whit better off. They seemed just as far from rescue as ever.
When next the sun rose it shone upon a very disconsolate and discouraged little band. The four boys and their negro companion were becoming very downhearted. Thus far they had not seen a sign of a boat. It almost seemed as if they were on a desert ocean, for in these days of world-wide commerce there are few nooks and crannies of the seven seas not visited by the merchant fleets.
Sam was the most cheerful person on board. Food and sleep had restored his spirits wonderfully and with the characteristic trait of his race, he was almost satisfied as long as he had those two things. No one had mentioned his fight with Petersen to him. If he did not remember it, there was no use in telling him about it. The four boys decided to watch him closely, however, in case he was acting a part. If such was the case he would surely betray himself sooner or later.
The sun was just a little way above the horizon and a scanty breakfast was being served on board the boat. John had just arisen from his seat to help himself to a big sailor-cracker. He turned and glanced at the newly risen sun and suddenly stopped short, the cracker half way to his mouth.
“What’s the matter, String?” demanded Fred, noticing his friend’s action.
“Land!” cried John, excitedly.
“Where?” exclaimed the others in one breath, at the same time springing to their feet utterly regardless of whether the boat upset or not.
“Right over there,” said John, pointing. “I see hills and palm trees.”
“Well, I don’t,” exclaimed George a moment later. “You’re dreaming, String.”
“I am not,” said John insistently. “Don’t any of you fellows see it?”
“It’s a mirage,” said Grant. “You don’t see anything, String.”
“Mirage, nothing!” cried John hotly. “I see land and if you all weren’t so stupid you’d see it too.”
“Maybe you can see it because you are so much taller than we are,” suggested Fred.
“Stand up on one of the seats then,” said John. “That’ll make you as tall as I.”
George quickly followed this advice, but he could see no land. Grant, too, tried it but he was no more successful. They all began to make fun of John.
“Something has gone to your head, String,” teased George. “You’re seeing things.”
John, however, was so angry by this time that he would not pay the slightest attention to such remarks. His face was flushed and he still stared sullenly out across the water in the direction of the rising sun. Suddenly his jaw dropped, and a look of amazement spread itself over his features. His eyes were round with surprise.
“It’s gone,” he exclaimed in consternation.
“Ha, ha,” laughed George, derisively. “I told you it was a mirage.”
“Perhaps, the wind blew it away,” suggested Fred.
“You all think you’re pretty smart,” said John, a half-foolish grin on his face. “I swear I thought I saw land over there.”
“Well, I tell you what we do,” suggested Grant. “String thought he saw land over in that direction, but it’s gone now. Just the same I say we row that way and see what we can see.”
“What’s the point in that?” demanded Fred. “You don’t really think he saw anything, do you?”
“No, I don’t. At the same time we can’t be any worse off than we are now, and String’s seeing the mirage may have been an omen. Perhaps there is land somewhere over there after all.”
“I’m willing,” agreed George. “What do you say?”
“Let’s try it,” exclaimed Fred. “As Grant says we can’t be any worse off than we are now. Perhaps we’ll be better.”
“Ah think dat’s a fine idea,” said Sam enthusiastically. “Ah can row, too.”
“No, you steer,” directed Grant. “Give me your compass, Pop, and set a course for him. You follow it exactly, Sam.”
“Ah sho’ will,” agreed Sam, delighted at the idea of having no work to do and the responsibility of steering the boat.
“I guess I’m not a pretty handy sort of a fellow to have around,” George remarked with a grin as he took the compass from around his neck and handed it to Sam. “I haven’t written in my diary lately, though.”
“Have you still got that with you, Pop?” exclaimed John.
“Surely. You don’t think I’d lose that, do you?”
“I thought you might in all this mixup.”
“No, indeed,” said George warmly. “I wouldn’t lose my diary for anything.”
“Give Sam the course to steer,” exclaimed Grant. “You all talk so much.”
“All right,” laughed George, and setting the compass on the bottom of the boat between the negro’s feet he directed him to steer a little south of east. This was the direction in which John had seen his phantom island.
“I have a plan,” said Fred. “I say we all row steadily for an hour without looking around. At the end of that time we’ll all stand up and I feel sure we’ll see land not far away.”
“How are you going to tell when the hour is up?” inquired John. “There isn’t a watch in the whole crowd that will run. I’m afraid it’s too warm for even the sun to be on time.”
“Then we’ll have to guess at it. Is everybody agreeable?”
“Suppose a boat appears ahead of us,” suggested George. “We might never see it.”
“Sam is facing that way,” said Fred. “He will see it and can tell us. Unless he sees a boat, though, he is not to say a word.”
“That’s a go,” said Grant. “Is everybody ready?”
The word was given and the life-boat shot forward on its course. The game being played served to cheer up the members of the little party and as a matter of fact no one had remained greatly worried about their condition for any length of time. Youth is always hopeful and every one on board had always had the feeling deep in his heart that they would be rescued before long. Lack of food and water had not assailed them as yet.
“The hour must be nearly up,” remarked George at last.
“Huh,” snorted Fred. “I don’t believe we’ve been going over twenty minutes.”
“Certainly not an hour,” agreed Grant. “Stick to it a while longer, Pop.”
“All right,” sighed George, “but I know we’ve been working at least an hour.”
“You never worked an hour in your life,” said John. “How do you know how long it is?”
“I warn you not to talk like that,” said George, pretending to be angry. “I am sitting right behind you, you know, and it would be no trouble at all for me to give you a good, swift punch in the middle of the spine.”
“Oh, Pop,” exclaimed Fred. “How bloodthirsty you’re getting.”
“I’m thirsty for a drink of water, that’s sure,” exclaimed George.
“You’ll have to wait until the hour is up,” said Grant.
“I say it’s up now.”
“The rest of us say not, though,” reminded Grant. “Besides that, we’re three to your one, so we can make you do pretty much as we please.”
“Is that so?” exclaimed George haughtily. “Well, if I want to turn my head around I don’t know who could stop me.”
“Don’t try it,” warned Fred, who pulled the bow oar. “You’ll be sorry.”
“How about Fred up there?” demanded John.
“We’ve all got our backs turned to him and he may look around every minute for all we know.”
“Sam can see him,” exclaimed Grant. “Has he looked around yet, Sam?”
“Ah ain’t seen him if he has,” replied Sam, grinning from ear to ear and showing a double row of ivory teeth.
“If he does, you just tell us,” said Grant, “and we’ll fix him.”
“Yas, sah,” grinned Sam. “Ah’ll report all right.”
“Seen any boats yet, Sam?” demanded George.
“No,” said Sam before Grant could stop him.
“Look here, Pop,” exclaimed Grant hotly, “you ought not to have asked him that question. We made an agreement not to look around, but what’s the use if you aren’t going to live up to it?”
“Did I look around?” demanded George.
“No, but–”
“Well, that’s all I agreed to.”
“I know, but–”
“Seen any land, Sam?” asked George. He knew how angry he was making Grant, but one of his main objects in life was to tease people.
“Ah ain’t sayin’,” said Sam warily. “Yo’ all ain’t gwine to ketch me nappin’ again.”
“That’s right, Sam,” exclaimed Grant; “don’t you answer a single question that any one asks you.”
“Oh, Grant,” mocked George, at the same time pitching his voice like a girl’s. “I think you’re just horrid.”
“Hit him, somebody!” exclaimed Fred laughingly. “Don’t let him live.”
At this moment, however, George, who had been paying more attention to the conversation than the rowing, caught a crab. He lost his balance completely and toppled over backward, sprawling at full length on the bottom of the boat. As a consequence the whole crew was disorganized. The agreement not to look around was entirely forgotten and all heads were turned to look at George.
Suddenly John stood up in the boat and cheered at the top of his voice.
“Look there!” he cried. “There’s land this time, all right!”
All eyes were immediately turned in the direction in which John pointed. Sure enough, and every one saw it this time, land appeared far off on the distant horizon. It could be seen only faintly, but there was no mistaking it. The low-lying shore and the outline of a few hills were plainly visible.
“What do you think of that?” exclaimed Grant joyously. “It certainly looks as if our luck had turned.”
“Sho’ it has,” said Sam readily. “Soon as we lef’ dat hard luck Finn Ah knowed we’d be all right. Ah suttinly is glad Ah is not in de same boat wid him.”
These words of Sam threw a sudden damper upon every one in the boat. The four boys looked at one another in consternation and much of their joy at the sight of land was taken away by the recollection of the tragic end of their shipmate Petersen. Sam, however, seemed entirely unconscious of having said anything out of the way. His face was wreathed in smiles and showed nothing but satisfaction, now that he was separated from Petersen. If any doubt had still lingered in the boys’ minds as to Sam’s sincerity that doubt was now dispelled. There was no question at all that the negro recalled nothing of his tragic deed.
“What’s de mattah wid you gentlemen?” demanded Sam, noticing the strange behavior of the four young sailors.
“Nothing at all,” said Grant quickly.
“Let’s row for shore,” exclaimed John, doing his best to change the subject.
“That’s what I say,” agreed George, who had now picked himself up and had taken hold of his oar once again. “I want to feel some good old earth under my feet for a change.”
“That’s right,” said Grant. “Let’s not waste any time.”
They dug their oars into the water and with renewed energy set out for the distant shore. Now and again they turned around and looked ahead in an effort to discover the character of the land they were approaching. It was still far away, however, and not much idea could be had of it.
“It’s an island all right,” said John confidently.
“Probably,” agreed Grant. “I don’t think we were very near the mainland when theJosephineburned.”
“Look there,” cried Fred all at once. “Look back of the boat there.”
Every one immediately stopped rowing and craned his neck to see what Fred was pointing out.
“What is it, Fred?” demanded George. “What do you see?”
“Don’t you see that fin?”
“Dat Finn!” exclaimed Sam. “Where dat Finn?”
“Not the one you mean,” said Fred, smiling in spite of his evident excitement. “I mean the fin of a fish.”
“I see it,” cried John suddenly. “What is it?”
“What is it,” repeated Fred. “Don’t you know?”
“A shark?”
“Of course it is,” said Fred. “It must be a whopper, too.”
Every one else saw the fin now and involuntarily a shiver passed over most of those on the little boat. The great black fin sailed easily and steadily along, just cutting the top of the water. Gruesome and forbidding it looked and straightway recalled to the minds of the four boys the stories they had so often heard of the hordes of man-eating sharks that infested the waters of the West Indies.
“There’s another,” cried Grant suddenly.
Sure enough another fin joined the first and one ahead of the other the sharks cruised around the waters near the life-boat.
“Zowie!” exclaimed George. “I guess I’m glad I’m not in the water just now.”
“Same here,” said Fred thankfully. “I wonder what they’d do to you.”
“Well, I’m not curious enough to find out,” said George grimly. “They can’t touch us here in the boat, anyway.”
“That’s true enough,” said Grant. “I say we don’t waste any more time looking at them, either. Personally, I’d rather be ashore.”
Once more the oars were dipped into the water and the voyage was continued. The sharks also came along and their fins could be seen first on one side of the boat and then on the other; sometimes they appeared in front and sometimes astern. Relentlessly they followed, however, all the way to the shore.
As the boat came nearer the land the boys got more of an idea of the place they were approaching.
“I don’t see any houses,” remarked John.
“Nor I,” agreed Fred. “It doesn’t look as if there was a human being on the island. It looks fertile enough, though.”
“Well, we’ll know all about it before long,” said Grant. “Where shall we land?”
“What’s the matter with that little harbor straight ahead?” said Fred.
“All right,” exclaimed Grant. “Steer us in there, Sam.”
“No matter what kind of a place it is I’ll certainly be glad to get on shore again,” said George eagerly. “I’ve had about all I want of boats for a while.”
“I agree with you, Pop,” said Fred. “I’ve had enough, too.”
“I wish we’d see a steamer,” sighed John.
“I wish a steamer would see us,” said Grant. “I think that would be more to the point.”
“We’ve simply got to be picked up soon,” said John. “Our food won’t last a great many days longer.”
“It’s good for a week, anyway,” said Fred. “Some one will surely find us by that time. We can hoist a flag on top of that hill up there. A passing steamer would be sure to see it.”
“There may be people on the island for all we know,” said Grant. “We can’t see it all from here and it must be at least a mile long.”
“We’ll know soon, anyway,” exclaimed John. “Don’t run us onto any rocks on the way in, Sam.”
“No, sah,” grinned Sam. “Jes’ leave dat to me.”
The shore of the island was low and sandy. Wide white beaches ran down to the water’s edge, while a short distance back were many palms and other trees of which the boys did not know the names. As Fred remarked, the island certainly looked fertile. Great excitement filled the breasts of every member of the party as they neared the shore.
“The sharks have gone,” exclaimed John suddenly.
“Sure enough,” said George. “I had forgotten all about them.”
“There they are out there,” said Grant indicating a spot some fifty yards astern of the boat. “They’re not alone, either.”
Ten or a dozen great fins could be seen weaving in and out in the place Grant had indicated.
“It must be shallow in here,” remarked Fred. “That’s probably why they don’t come in any closer. Look out for going aground, Sam.”
“Not de leas’ dangah of dat,” replied Sam confidently and whether he knew what he was talking about or not, the fact remains that a few moments later the bow of the boat grounded softly on the white sand, only a few feet from the shore.
“First ashore,” cried George leaping overboard and dashing up on the beach.
“Hey, there! Wait a minute,” shouted Grant. “We’ve got to pull this boat up and we’ll need everyone’s help.”
“We’d better take the provisions out,” said Fred a moment later when they had hauled the boat some distance up on the shore.
“What for?” demanded George who was always opposed to doing any more work than was absolutely necessary.
“Put them somewhere in the shade I say,” exclaimed Fred. “Take out that cask of water, too. Those things have been broiling in the sun too long already.”
“Let’s take everything out except the oars,” said Grant. “We’ll probably be here for a couple of days and we might as well do it now as any time. I don’t believe we’ll be picked up before then; at least there is a good chance that we won’t.”
“All right,” agreed George. “Take everything out then. As soon as that’s done though, I’m going to see what the other side of this island looks like.”
“We all will,” said John. “Let’s do this first though.”
They all fell to work with a will and soon had the the boat unloaded. The contents were placed under a sheltering grove of mangrove trees a short distance away. The boat was hauled a little farther up on shore and then the boys prepared to start on their tour of inspection. Sam followed as a matter of course.
“Say, this is a pretty fine island,” exclaimed George as they started out.
“Pineapples,” cried Grant, excitedly. “What do you think of that?”
“Are they ripe?” demanded George as the little band swooped down upon the cluster of plants.
“They certainly are,” said Grant, who quickly produced his jackknife and cut off the top of one of the pineapples. “Watch me eat it,” and he began to eat the juicy fruit with great relish. He was not far ahead of the others, however, for soon they were all busily engaged in the same way.
At last they had their fill of pineapples and moved on. Banana trees were discovered, standing in rows as if they had been planted.
“Somebody lives on this island, or used to anyway,” remarked Grant. “Those trees never grew wild like that.”
“Of course not,” said John. “It doesn’t look as though they’d been cultivated lately though.”
“We’ll find out before long anyway,” said Fred. “If there are people here all I hope is that they’re not cannibals.”
“Dey no cannibals heah,” said Sam so seriously that every one laughed.
“I hope not, Sam,” said Fred, smiling. “I’d hate to be eaten.”
They crossed the island which was not more than a half-mile wide at this point, and that seemed to be the average most of the way. The view was the same as on the opposite side; not a thing to be seen but the boundless ocean with not a speck of a sail or a bit of land within sight. It was a little kingdom all of its own. A quarter of a mile from shore the low rollers broke ceaselessly on a coral reef, while overhead, the gulls swept around and around, their plaintive whistle being very distinct at times.
In silence the boys stood and gazed at the ocean.
“Looks as if we were alone in the world, doesn’t it?” said Fred at last.
“It surely does,” said George. “I somehow feel as if there ought to be some sort of a big black king sitting under one of these palm trees with about twenty slaves standing around fanning him.”
“Speaking of black,” remarked John. “What has happened to Sam?”
“He went back to the boat,” said Fred, but as he spoke Sam suddenly appeared, running towards the little group at full speed. That he was greatly excited about something could be plainly seen from his manner.
“What is it, Sam?” demanded Grant as the erstwhile cook came puffing and blowing up to the spot where the four boys stood. “What’s the matter?”
“De boat,” gasped Sam. “De boat am gone.”
“The boat gone!” exclaimed Grant in amazement. “What do you mean?”
“What Ah say is dat de boat am gone, dat’s all,” said Sam.
“How could it get away though?” demanded John excitedly. “Who is there to take it?”
“Ah don’t know, sah,” said Sam. “It sho’ is gone though.”
“There must be some one on the island then,” exclaimed John. “I don’t see how it could disappear any other way.”
“Maybe,” admitted Grant. “It certainly is queer.”
The four boys stood amazed, too surprised by this sudden catastrophe at first to do anything. It seemed almost impossible to think that such a thing could be.
“Are you sure you went to the right place, Sam?” demanded Fred.
“Sho’ Ah is,” said Sam. “Dey is no doubt ob it.”
“Let’s all go and have a look,” George suggested.
“The first sensible idea yet, Pop,” exclaimed Grant. “Come on, everybody.”
Helter skelter and making as fast time as they could, the little party set out to retrace their steps to their landing place. Fear filled their hearts, not only on account of the disappearance of their boat, but also because there was the chance that some one else was on the island who might have stolen it. Not that the boys would not have been glad to see other people, but because they feared that the strangers might turn out to be enemies. Certainly, if they were friends, it seemed queer they should steal the boat.
It was not long before they came to the little harbor. Grant was the first to reach the water’s edge and he looked about him eagerly, for traces of the missing boat.
“Here’s where it was,” exclaimed Fred.
“There isn’t even a mark on the beach where it was pulled up,” said John. “That’s a queer thing it seems to me.”
“You’re sure this is the spot?” said Grant.
“I know it is,” said George, confidently. “There is no doubt of it.”
“See any footprints around?” asked Fred.
“None at all,” replied John. “What do you think of it all?”
“What do you think, Grant?” inquired George. Grant was always the one to whom the other boys turned when there was any question to be settled.
Grant stood on the beach and gazed fixedly out to sea.
“What are you looking at?” demanded John.
“I’m looking at our boat,” replied Grant quietly.
“What!” exclaimed Fred. “Where is it?”
“Right out there,” said Grant, pointing to a white speck that could be faintly seen far out on the water.
“But how did it get there?” insisted Fred.
“It floated,” said Grant quietly, “and I’ll tell you how. You know we pulled it up on the shore, but I’m afraid we didn’t pull it far enough. While we were away, the tide must have come in and floated it off. There it goes, and here we stay, I guess.”
“Don’t be so sure of that,” exclaimed George, and he began to divest himself of his few remaining clothes as rapidly as possible.
“What do you think you’re going to do, Pop?” demanded Grant.
“I’m going after that boat.”
“By swimming?”
“Of course. How else could I reach it?” and by this time George was almost stripped to his skin.
“Don’t be silly, Pop,” exclaimed Fred. “That boat is at least a half-mile from shore and you couldn’t possibly catch it. It’s getting farther away all the time.”
“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?” demanded George. “You don’t want to stay here the rest of your life, do you?” He was a splendid swimmer and had won many prizes in this line of sport. At the same time what he proposed to attempt now was most ambitious.
“You’re crazy, Pop,” said Grant earnestly. “You can’t possibly make it.”
“I’ll tell you that later,” said George doggedly, and he made as if to start down the beach. John, however, seized him and held him firmly.
“Please don’t try it,” he begged. “You’ll only drown.”
“Let me go,” exclaimed George.
“Think ob dem sha’ks,” said Sam. “Dey’s millions ob dem out dar.”
“That’s right, Pop,” cried Grant. “Think of those sharks. Even if you could swim that far the sharks would get you.”
“Put your clothes on again,” said Fred. “We need you worse than we do the boat.”
The argument about the sharks had more influence on George than anything else. He did not mind the ocean, but the thought of its hungry inhabitants was too much for him. He yielded to the pleas of his comrades and slowly began to put on his clothes.
“What’ll we do?” he said dazedly. “It looks as if we were stranded.”
“I guess we are,” agreed Grant grimly. “We’ll have to sit here and wait until some steamer happens by and picks us up.”
“But how will any one know we’re here?” said George.
“We’ll hoist a flag.”
“That’s all right, but where are we going to get a flag?”
“I’ll show you,” exclaimed Grant, and he made his way to the spot where their stores and provisions were piled. A moment later he returned with the canvas tarpaulin that had been used as a cover. “Here’s our flag,” he said, waving the heavy piece of canvas around his head.
“It’s too heavy,” objected John. “It would take a gale to make that stand out.”
“It is heavy,” admitted Grant. “I don’t know of anything else we can use though.”
“Except my shirt,” said George quickly. “That’ll make a real flag.”
“But what will you wear?” said John.
“Nothing maybe,” replied George, cheerfully. “In this climate I don’t believe any one would suffer much from lack of clothes.”
“Probably not,” Grant agreed. “Why use your shirt in preference to any one else’s though.”
“Because I offer it first.”
“All right,” laughed Grant. “Pass it over.”
George handed his shirt to Grant and soon the seams were ripped so that it covered the largest amount of possible space. “Now for a flag-pole,” exclaimed Grant.
“I’ll attend to that,” exclaimed Fred and he straightway fell upon a nearby tree with his jackknife. He cut off one of the longest and straightest branches after considerable trouble, and presented it for his companions’ approval. “How’s that?” he demanded proudly. “It’s about thirty feet long and stuck up on top of that hill, it could be seen for a long, long distance.”
“We’ll now go up and raise the flag,” cried Grant, and leading the way he set out for the top of the hill.
“Look at the brook,” exclaimed John suddenly, after they had covered about half the distance to their destination.
“It’s not a very big one,” remarked George as he stepped across the tiny stream. “I wonder where it comes from.”
“We can follow it and see,” said Grant. “If the water is good to drink, we are in luck, for we may need it desperately before long.”
“It looks clear enough,” said Fred. “I’ll taste of it.”
“Wait till we find the source,” advised Grant. “We can tell better then whether it is good or not.”
They soon discovered the origin of the little stream. Set in among a grove of scrub palmetto trees was a spring. The water bubbled merrily out into a little pool, the bottom of which was covered with shining white pebbles.
“That looks all right to me,” exclaimed Fred eagerly and a moment later he was flat on his stomach, taking long draughts of the clear water.
“Whew, that’s fine,” he said enthusiastically, as he rose to his feet once more and sighed with satisfaction.
“Is it cool?” asked John.
“It’s almost cold,” said Fred. “Why don’t you try it?”
John did try it and so did every one else. All pronounced it to be just as Fred had described it. “We can live for a long while on that water and the fruit that’s here,” remarked Fred. “We won’t have to worry about starving anyway.”
“Just the same we want to get our flag up,” exclaimed Grant. “Let’s do it now and get it over with.”
Without further delay they proceeded to the top of the hill. There were no trees on the summit and for a space of two or three hundred yards, the ground was bare and unobstructed. The very highest point on the island was selected and there a hole was dug. Sticks and knives and fingers and anything that could be found was used in the task, for no tools had been put in the life-boat.
“If we only had the oars,” said George, “we could have tied them all together and made a real flag pole.”
“What’s the matter with this?” demanded Fred. “It may not be very beautiful, but it’ll do the work all right. It’s limber too, so that if a high wind comes up it will bend and not break.”
“All right,” exclaimed George, “put the flag on and we’ll set it up.”
The sleeves were torn from George’s sacrificed shirt. The sleeves in turn were torn into strips and with these the rest of the shirt, or rather the flag, was tied securely to the pole.
“Hoist it up,” cried George. “I must say I never expected to have my shirt used for a flag on some deserted island though.”
“It makes a good one all right,” said Grant. “That ought to be visible for a good long distance.”
“Do you suppose any one would take the trouble to investigate if he did see it?” inquired John skeptically.
“Any one would certainly investigate a flag like that,” laughed George. “They’d think it was a Chinese laundry or something.”
“Maybe they’ll take it for a pirate flag,” suggested Fred.
“This island looks like a good place for pirates all right,” remarked John.