He paused ominously.
"Or what?" asked Joe curiously.
"Or we may be in grave danger," concluded Captain Akers.
They all looked somewhat alarmed. Nat had read about waterspouts in the geography books, but he had never been at close quarters with the strange columns of water stretching from sea to sky, and engulfing all that they encounter.
"Look! Look!" cried Joe suddenly. "There are more of them!"
"Good gracious, so there are," exclaimed Captain Akers, gazing anxiously to the westward.
Coming toward them, at a seemingly terrific rate, and spinning and dancing in a sort of gigantic witches' dance, were a dozen or more of the writhing, twisting water pillars.
A moaning sound filled the air, and it began to grow very dark suddenly.
Against the gathering curtain of blackness the ghastly forms of the huge waterspouts stood out menacingly.
If it had not been for their constant sinuous, snaky, undulating movements they might have been mistaken for the immense marble columns upholding the roof of a huge cathedral.
But these columns upheld the canopy of the sky, and found their nether resting place on the Pacific Ocean.
The boys' faces gleamed whitely in the heavy dusk that had fallen as the witches' dance of the waterspouts grew closer. They could now see the waves boiling at their feet as the spouts sucked the water up into the sky. Would they manage to escape the waterspouts, or would the "Nomad" be trapped in their path?
Anxiously as they hung on the answer to the question, it was impossible of solution just then. But one thing was certain, not one of the party on board the motor cruiser had ever been in a situation of graver danger.
All at once Joe uttered a shrill cry:
"That big fellow yonder. It's coming right for us."
"By dunder, dot's right," shouted Captain Nelsen, who, clutching the rail of the bridge, stood by the lad's side. "Hard over midt your helm dere, boy."
Joe spun the wheel over, but as he did so it suddenly turned loose in his hands.
A cry of consternation broke from his lips:
"The tiller ropes are broken!"
Nat echoed his comrade's alarmed shout. As for Ding-dong, he turned white under his tan.
The "Nomad" rolled helplessly in the trough of the now aroused seas, while at a distance of not more than a few hundred yards the nearest of the immense waterspouts was roaring down upon her. For an instant they looked dismayed into the grim face of danger.
It looked as if there was not a chance of their escaping from being engulfed by the monster spout. In this emergency even Captain Akers stood irresolute. It was clear that he was nonplussed by the nearness of the peril.
Nat was the first to regain his wits.
"The saluting cannon—quick!"
He had recalled in a flash of inspiration having read in some book of voyages that a shot will sometimes shatter a waterspout.
He was by no means certain that it would work out in practice, but the plan in their present desperate situation was well worth trying, at all events.
The saluting cannon was bolted to the starboard side of the bridge. A full charge of powder, placed there when she had arrived in Santa Inez with the idea of firing a salute, was in place. All that was needed was some missile to ram home on top of it, for, of course, the charge was blank.
The chest with its collection of metal and wood odds and ends still lay close at hand. They had been too disgusted to touch it that afternoon. Right on top was a big slug of iron, which had been used on the "Nettie Nelsen" as a weight for the sounding line. It was the work of an instant with Nat to ram this home in the cannon and place a wad of canvas in on top of it.
The others watched him in silence. Only Captain Akers and Captain Nelsen had any idea of what he was after, and they deemed it more prudent to say nothing that might interrupt the lad.
The waterspout was now terribly near. Its roar was deafening and its mighty crest was hidden in an aurora of mist and spray. Big, angry waves rolled and tossed at its squirming base.
Swinging the cannon round on its pivot, Nat aimed the weapon full at the advancing spout. With a silent prayer he jerked the lanyard that fired the charge.
Nat aimed the weapon full at the advancing spout. Bang! A red flash of flame split the gloom.Nat aimed the weapon full at the advancing spout.Bang! A red flash of flame split the gloom.
Bang!
A red flash of flame split the gloom as the missile sped.
"Hang on for your lives!" came simultaneously a shout from Captain Akers.
It was lucky for them that they took the advice. Down on their faces, clinging to the lowermost rail of the bridge, they all flung themselves, Joe leaving his useless wheel.
As the weight with which Nat had loaded the cannon struck the waterspout, shattering it as if it had been made of glass, the mighty structure broke in a gigantic cascade of water. To the boys, clinging with might and main to the rails, it appeared as if the bottom had fallen out of the heavens, letting down tons of green water. The force of the torrent drove the breath out of their bodies and choked and stunned them with its pressure. Beneath them they could feel the "Nomad" tremble from stem to stern at the shock. Mingling with the roar of the descending mass of fluid came a shout of dismay from Sam Hinckley at his engines.
In the emergency there had been no time to warn him. The firing of the gun had been the first intimation he had received that anything unusual was going on forward.
He had started up the stairway from his engine room as he heard the sharp report, only to be met by an inundation of water that swept him backward among his engines, gasping, half drowned and with the clothes ripped almost off his back.
But despite all this, the "Nomad" had been saved by Nat's quick wit. The other waterspouts waltzed past her, roaring furiously, but not one of them touched her, and when, after they had passed, the semi-suffocated crew struggled to their feet and surveyed the havoc about them, the waterspouts were already some distance off, whirling eastward on their destructive course, surrounded by their gloomy pall of dusky cloud.
The sea behind them was white and angry, and upon it the "Nomad," crippled by her useless steering gear, bobbed about like an empty bottle. It was some time before her company recovered their wits sufficiently to take stock of what had happened. When they did, they could not refrain from laughing at the ridiculous appearance they all presented, Sam Hinckley most of all.
The only garment left him was half a pair of trousers. The force of the wave had torn off the rest. Moreover, in the tumblefication in the engine room, a big can of black grease had torn loose and Sam, in his struggles, had come in contact with it, plentifully bedaubing himself with the inky stuff.
"We look like a lot of drowned rats," laughed Nat.
"And I f-f-f-f-f-f-feel like one," sputtered out Ding-dong ruefully.
"Well, get below and into dry clothes," ordered Captain Akers, "and then brew some good hot coffee. In the meantime we'll see what damage has been done and then get into dry togs, too."
The damage, on examination, proved to be serious enough. The "Nomad's" boat had been torn off her davits and only a few splinters suspended by the "falls" remained to show that she had once hung there. A ventilator had also been smashed and a port light stove in.
"Thank goodness we've still got the portable boats," breathed Nat, "or we would be in a fix, indeed."
"That's so," agreed Captain Akers, "but as things are we must be thankful it isn't any worse. Any one of us might just as easily have had a limb broken as not."
"I guess the first thing to be done is to reeve a new tiller line," said Joe.
"Yes, indeed," agreed the captain. "We must be off our course now. Suppose you boys get to work at once at that, while Sam and I take stock of the engine room and get the pumps going. Sam says there is a foot of water in his domain."
The boys knew where the supplies were kept in a locker in the afterpart of the cockpit, and they soon had a new tiller rope adjusted. By this time Sam and Captain Akers had ascertained that the engines had sustained no damage but a short circuit of the ignition apparatus. It would take some time to fix this, however, so it was decided to lay to for the night.
But on the anchor being lowered it was found that even by joining the longest cables on board together no bottom could be reached. They were in the deepest part of the Pacific Ocean. Miles of blue water lay under their keel. Infinite vastnesses of depth, almost unthinkable in their profundity.
The knowledge gave the boys a little shudder, but soon more practical thoughts ousted their mysterious feelings.
"What are we to do?" asked Joe. "If we don't anchor, we shall drift miles off our course."
"Why, let's up sail and take a spin under canvas for a while," said Captain Akers. "It will give us a chance to see how the 'Nomad' behaves under her auxiliary power."
This was voted an excellent plan, and accordingly, the masts were soon gotten out of their receptacles and the sections of which they were composed fitted together. Of itself this gave the "sticks" a rigid construction, but they were also provided with steel wire stays, which, by means of turnbuckles, could be tautened like piano wires after they had been hooked into their places.
This done, all that remained was to hoist the canvas and get under way once more. The sails were two leg-of-mutton shaped canvases, with a small jib in the bow to balance the large after-sail.
"Donnervetter," exclaimed Captain Nelsen, when the sails were in place and began to "draw," "dis iss vere I am righdt at my home, by Yupiter. Idt feels a whole lot more natural to be under canvas dan sailing aroundt on a marine gasolene stove."
"In that case you can take the wheel," laughed Nat, "for I don't know a whole lot about steering a sailing vessel."
Accordingly, the captain assumed the helm, while the rest went below to give what help they could in overhauling the engines.
The captain hummed a merry old sea tune to himself as the sails filled and the "Nomad" began to forge ahead. By his side stood Cal Gifford, whom we have rather lost sight of recently. The fact is, that Cal at sea was by no means so self-assertive a person as Cal ashore. The former stage driver had been suddenly plunged into, what was to him, an entirely novel and somewhat harrying existence.
The "Nomad," answering her helm like a race horse, made good headway, and in the meantime the party in the engine room labored unceasingly. At last all was declared in readiness to test the engine. But when Sam operated the mechanism that should have resulted in starting the motor they did no more than turn over lazily, with a sort of hoarse cough, and then stop dead.
Again and again he tried to start them, but they stubbornly resisted.
"Take a look at the carburetors," suggested Nat.
Sam bent over one of the brass mixing chambers and then looked up with an odd expression.
"Queer," he said; "no wonder the engines wouldn't start. No gasolene."
"No gasolene!" echoed Captain Akers. "We must examine the tanks at once. There should be a supply enough to last for several weeks more."
"It can't have leaked out, or we'd have smelled it," said Joe.
"No," said Captain Akers, who looked rather worried, "the tanks are provided with out-board drains, so that in case of a leak no gasolene can get into the boat and cause an explosion."
A brief examination of the main tank served to confirm the fear which had already formed itself in Captain Akers' heart.
Through a big leak, caused where a seam had ripped open under the strain of the exploded waterspout, the precious driving fluid of the "Nomad" had nearly all escaped.
Worse still, the auxiliary tanks were also found to be almost emptied, their supply being fed by pressure into the main one. So large was the leak that scores of gallons had escaped into the sea by the time it was discovered.
"Then we are stuck without power to go ahead or turn back!" exclaimed Nat, voicing the general dismay.
"If you don't count the sails, which are only good when the wind blows, I guess you have hit it right, lad," said Captain Akers, very soberly.
A more careful examination showed that they had not underestimated the seriousness of the loss of the motive fluid. Moreover, in reviewing the situation, it became apparent that unless they made for Honolulu, which port was still a great distance off, they would not be able to renew their supply.
Still more alarming was the prospect involving the food supply. Under power, as the "Nomad" had been provisioned for the voyage down the coast, they would have had enough and to spare. But depending on sail for driving them along it was doubtful if the provisions would last nearly all the distance.
In fact, after a consultation had been held in the cabin, they had to own, with what bitterness you may suppose, that the expedition must be abandoned and a return for the California coast begun. Even at that, if they met contrary winds it might be days before they reached it.
The sleep of those on board the "Nomad" that night was broken and disturbed. Little was said after the decision to abandon the chase of the schooner had been reached. But how all felt about it could have been seen before they retired, by their gloomy countenances and voices. It was in truth a sad blow to them all. Even Cal, who, as has been said, had no great love for the water, took a keen interest in the object of the voyage, namely to bring the wrongdoers to book. He was heartily disgusted at this termination to all their plans. As for Sam Hinckley, the engineer, he sat in silence in his motionless, silent engine room, gloomily staring at his unmoving engines.
Such was the state of mind of all on board when, at dawn the next day, Joe Hartley, who was at the wheel, brought all hands up out of the cabin in all stages of dress and undress by a cry of:
"Sail ho!"
The "Nomad" was staggering along under her canvas, making a pretty picture, but gaining woefully few miles. Her build was not adapted for sailing and her progress was snail-like. At the rate she was going it might be weeks even before the coast was sighted.
The sail that Joe had seen was as yet some distance off, and, as well as could be made out, it was a schooner.
"What if she should be the 'Nettie Nelsen'?" wondered Nat.
"Well," rejoined Cal grimly, "I reckon we'd have nothing much to fear from those chaps in a fair fight. They're all right when they kin make use of treachery and deceit, but in a square scrap they are no account. I reckon we proved that when the posse rounded 'em up in the canyon."
"That is so," agreed Nat, and in this opinion the others concurred. Just the same, it gave them queer little thrills to think that by a strange chance they might be coming to close quarters with the men who had done them so many wrongs.
Breakfast was prepared by Ding-dong and despatched without their being any appreciable distance nearer to the strange schooner. But a short time after the meal a brisk breeze sprang up and the "Nomad" went staggering right gallantly along before it.
The schooner at the same time drew closer to her, both vessels sailing with the wind on what sailors call "the beam."
"She's nodt mein schooner, dot is a sure for certain fact," pronounced Captain Nelsen, after a prolonged scrutiny of the distant craft through his marine glasses.
"How do you know?" inquired Joe. "She looks almost exactly like her."
"Yah, but der 'Neddie Nelsen' had a green stripe round her bulvurks. Dis schooner has a vite line."
"Maybe they've changed the color. I've heard of such things being done."
The remark came from Captain Akers. Presently he took the glasses from Captain Nelsen and in his turn focused them on the oncoming schooner which seemed to be plunging along at a great rate.
"Well, dash my buttons, that's queer!" he exclaimed, after a minute or two of close observation. A puzzled look crept over his face as he spoke.
"What's queer?" inquired Nat.
"Why, I can't seem to see any one on her decks."
"Not even a man at the wheel?" asked Nat, in an astonished tone.
"No; not a soul. Here, you take the glasses and observe her. Your eyes are younger than mine."
With this he handed the binoculars to the boy. But Nat, and the others in their turn, were unable to spy any living being on the schooner's decks.
"There is some mystery of the sea there," decided Captain Akers. "In my opinion that ship has been abandoned for some good reason."
"But she is sailing along as if some hand were guiding her course," said Nat.
"That is true; but the helm may have been lashed before her crew skipped out. If that is the case with this slant of wind, she would naturally be sailing along as if all was well."
"Shall we board her and see what is the matter?" asked Nat eagerly.
"That will be a difficult and perhaps a dangerous task," was the response. "That schooner is going at quite a speed and if we ran alongside with the 'Nomad' she might run us down."
"Phew! Then we would be in a fix," exclaimed Joe. "I guess we'd better give her a wide berth."
"Look!" cried Cal suddenly, as the schooner, without diminishing her speed in the least, drew closer. "Look, what's the matter with her flag? It don't look natural, somehow."
The attention of all thus directed to the ensign, which hung at the vessel's peak, they could now see that it was upside down—a signal of distress the wide seas over.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Captain Akers. "That puts a different complexion on the matter altogether. I begin to think that it may be our duty as Christian beings to board that craft. Perhaps her crew are suffering from some malady or affliction that has crippled them and they may be lying helpless below at this very moment."
This was not an attractive picture, and Nat could not repress a feeling of depression as the schooner drew closer and they could take in her details. She was a black vessel of some hundred feet or more in length, with tapering spars and well-cut sails, and evidently possessed plenty of speed. Under her bowsprit they could now make out a gilded figure-head—the image of a woman apparently holding a trident aloft.
"The Island Queen!" read off Captain Akers, focusing his glasses on the vessel's bow name board as she drew closer.
"She's as preddy a liddle ship as der 'Nettie Nelsen,' almost," pronounced Captain Nelsen.
"She is a fine schooner for a fact," agreed Nat. "I'd like to get on board her and penetrate the mystery of her desertion or disaster."
"M-m-m-m-m-maybe she's lul-lul-lul-leaking!"
The suggestion came, of course, from Ding-dong.
"If she is, it's not as much as your parts of speech are," laughed Joe. "She's quite high out of the water."
Much more speculation of this sort was indulged in as the two vessels drew closer together.
They met and passed before Captain Akers had made up his mind whether or not to risk boarding her. But as they drew close, and the squeaking and straining of the schooner's blocks and rigging could be distinctly heard, there came a sudden sound from the mysterious vessel that struck a chill to all their hearts.
It was a long-drawn-out scream, uttered in what seemed to be a human voice, and yet was unlike any they had ever heard.
Again and again the terrible cry rang out, while they regarded each other with blanched faces.
What could it mean?
There was not a soul to be seen on her decks as the schooner swayed by, but the scream was terribly real and appealing.
Captain Akers was the first to recover his wits in the presence of this startling mystery.
"Boys," he exclaimed, looking round at them all with a determined air, "there's some terrible secret aboard that schooner, and I'm going to find out what it is if the Lord will let me. The wind's dropping now. In a short time I shouldn't wonder if it fell a dead calm. If it does, we can get out the collapsible boat and row over to her. Do you agree with me?"
"We certainly do," Nat answered for the rest in an agitated voice. "If there are some human beings in trouble on board that schooner, we'll do our best to help them, as Americans should do."
"That's the talk, boy. Now, Joe, put about and take after the schooner. I'm going below to overhaul my shooting-irons, for if we shan't have occasion to use them before long, my name isn't Tom Akers."
Before long, as the captain had foreseen, the wind decreased from the fresh breeze that had been blowing to a dead, glassy calm. The sea grew smooth and rippleless, while the sun shone down blistering on two becalmed vessels—the "Nomad" and the "Island Queen."
The latter lay rolling in the swell at about half-a-mile's distance when the wind finally gave out altogether. Her sails flapped idly against her masts, and, neglected as they were, she looked the very picture of desolation.
The "Nomad" was run as close as possible to the becalmed vessel, but lack of wind compelled her, too, to come to a standstill at the distance mentioned. One of the collapsible boats was at once gotten out from under the cockpit floor and the sections, of which it was composed, clamped together. Then it was hoisted on the davits upon which the boat, which had been swept away had hung, and dropped overboard.
An instant later Captain Akers, Nat, Joe, and Ding-dong Bell piled into it, leaving the rest on board the "Nomad." The three lads had been selected by the captain to accompany him, for, owing to the small size of the boat, it would have been impossible to accommodate more within her limited dimensions. Some disappointment was felt by the "stay-at-homes," but their work was cut out for them, too, as Captain Akers, before he left the ship, told them to be on the lookout with rifles, and in case any unforeseen things happened on the mysterious schooner to open fire on the attackers of the "Nomad" party.
For Captain Akers, for some reason or other, had quite made up his mind privately that they were going to meet with opposition in attempting to board the schooner. It was, therefore, somewhat of a shock to him when, after a long, hot pull, they reached the schooner's side to find that no human voice or presence opposed them.
The vessel rolled idly on the calm swells, without a sound to break the stillness all about her but the complaining of her sails and rigging. Nor after they had made fast the boat and boarded the vessel by the forechains did they encounter anything to give them pause.
The "Island Queen" seemed to be a typical craft of her kind. Flush decked with a white-painted galley forward right aft of the foremast and a commodious deck-house aft. Her decks were clean swept and showed no trace of disorder. Ropes were neatly coiled and everything seemed to be in apple-pie order.
"What can be the secret of this old derelict?" wondered Nat, in a subdued voice.
Somehow, since setting foot on the abandoned craft's decks, they had all felt constrained to speak in whispers. Even bluff Captain Akers was no exception to the general rule. There is something peculiarly impressive about treading the deck of an abandoned ship—a feeling both sinister and melancholy.
"Well," said Captain Akers, after he had glanced rapidly but comprehensively about him, "the state of her decks proves conclusively that there was no bloody mutiny on board, as I had begun to think."
"Maybe we can find out something by entering the cabin," suggested Joe Hartley.
"An excellent idea, Joe," approved the captain. "Forward then and, boys, have your pistols ready for instant use. We may encounter nothing and we may run across something that will put us on our mettle."
With rather disturbed nerves, and pulses that beat faster than usual, the boys followed Captain Akers aft. The door of the deck-house was unlocked and swung on its hinges rhythmically as the ship swayed on the rise and fall of the bosom of the Pacific.
"You go first," whispered Joe, shoving Nat forward.
"Well, I like that——" began Nat indignantly, but neither of the boys was required to test his nerve by being the first to enter the place. Captain Akers spared them that.
With a quick, light step, the old seaman made his way within, followed by the awe-struck boys.
But if they had expected to see anything remarkable in the cabin, they were disappointed. It was an entirely ordinary place. In the center, a swinging table covered with a red cloth. A few books on navigation of the Pacific were stuck on a shelf in one corner. Two staterooms opened off it astern, evidently for the occupancy of the captain and mate. But an investigation of these yielded no more results than had their scrutiny of the outer cabin.
The bed clothes in the bunks were tumbled about as if the occupants had left hastily and several articles of clothing lay scattered about in the same helter-skelter fashion. But that was all.
"No use looking any further here," announced Captain Akers, after a thorough examination of the place had been made. "This cabin is just such a one as you might find on board any schooner plying this ocean. I guess we were fooling ourselves on the mystery part of this."
"How about those screams?" asked Nat quickly.
Captain Akers looked rather foolish.
"By Jove, I forgot those!" he exclaimed. "That's so, they were terrible cries, but for all that this schooner shows to the contrary; we must have dreamed we heard them. I think——"
"Look there!" cried Nat suddenly, seizing the captain's sleeve and pointing through a porthole, which looked out on the deck.
The captain looked, but could see nothing. He turned to the boy who seemed strangely excited and was pale and trembling.
"What was it?" he asked. "What did you see, Nat?"
"A face!" was the startling reply. "It was peering in through that porthole at us, but the instant I looked up it vanished."
"Was it a man's face?" asked Captain Akers, deeply interested. The others were off at another part of the cabin and Nat was glad, for he did not wish them to hear the alarming intelligence.
"Yes, it was a man's face, as well as I can describe it. But it was a terrible one. It was hairy and had two little beady eyes set deep in it that glinted with hate as they looked at us. Who could it have been?"
"Well, my hearty, we'll soon find out. I'm a plain sailor and don't like mystery. I'm going to get to the bottom of this. Where did you say the skulker was—outside that port? Then it ought to be easy to find him."
With this, and with Nat close at his heels, he dashed out of the cabin on to the deck.
But to their utter astonishment the schooner looked just as before. No human figure could be seen crouching behind some obstruction and peering at the intruders.
Nor could they find any tracks under the port through which Nat was positive he had seen the formidable face peering.
Who, then, could it have been? And where had he concealed himself?
The forward deck-house was the place that naturally suggested itself to them. Led by the captain, the two young adventurers started for the small white structure.
"Whoever you are, my man," exclaimed the captain, as he laid hand on the door and thrust it open, "don't dare to try any monkey tricks with us. We'll stand for no nonsense and are armed."
With these words he pushed open the door. But the place, which was evidently a kind of galley—or cook house—combined with sleeping accommodations of a rough character, was empty. A rusty sea-range with pots and pans still on it stretched along the forward end, and cooking materials stood all about. A big barrel of rolled oats, with the top off, stood half open.
"Hullo!" exclaimed the captain, as he gazed into it, "some one's dipped into this lately."
So much was clear. The contents of the barrel had evidently been disturbed by somebody helping himself; but who?
As he propounded the question to himself, Nat looked up, and almost gave way to a shrill cry of alarm as he did so.
There was a small, square, unglazed window above the stove—apparently put there for ventilation.
In this aperture as he glanced up he had, for the second time, encountered the terrible hairy face gazing in at them. But as his eyes met the bright, shifty orbs the visage vanished, and when the others looked up the window was empty.
It was the work of but one second for Nat to dash out of the cook house. But swift as he was the mysterious eavesdropper was quicker. He must have vanished with the celerity of a Jack-in-the-box, for when Nat gained the deck not a trace of anything unusual was to be seen.
"Say, this thing is getting on my nerves," the lad exclaimed, as the others joined him and he concluded his description of the second appearance of the grim face.
"I don't blame you, my boy," rejoined Captain Akers. "Seriously, if I was as superstitious as some seamen, I'd say that this craft was haunted. There hardly seems to be any other explanation for it."
"Except that disturbed oat barrel," put in Joe uneasily.
"That's just it," responded the captain; "that makes it look as if something human was on board. But in that case why should they avoid us and play such pranks as have just occurred. I don't understand it and I don't half like it. Let's have a look at the cargo—there may be something we require in it—and then I suggest that we make the best of our way back to the 'Nomad.'"
The boys agreed heartily and watched with some interest while Captain Akers removed the cover of the forward hatch. As the battens were lifted off a strange, familiar smell assailed their nostrils, but before either of the boys could speak Captain Akers gave a cry of astonishment.
"Case oil! Kerosene!" he cried. "Hoor-ay, boys! This is the greatest discovery of the age. We can run the engine of the 'Nomad' now till further orders."
"Three cheers!" shouted Nat, fairly forgetting in the joy of this great discovery the gloom which the mystery of the schooner "Island Queen" had cast over him.
Joe Hartley joined with a will in the jubilation. It would have been a queer sight if any one could have been looking on to see those three—the grizzled seaman and the bright-faced boys—capering about like lunatics in their joy at the discovery.
But in the midst of their jubilation they received a sudden check. Captain Akers had bethought himself to look for the "Nomad."
A cry of consternation now rose to his lips and was echoed by the boys as they ascertained its cause.
The "Nomad" had vanished.
They were alone in mid-Pacific on the mysterious schooner!
Captain Akers was the first to find a solution of the mystery.
"Fog!" he exclaimed.
Sure enough they now perceived, as they would have before had they not been too engrossed with their investigations, that a white smother was creeping up, enveloping sea and sky in its all-embracing obscurity. The mist had already blotted out the "Nomad" from view and was now rolling down like clouds of white steam upon the schooner. In a few moments they would be enveloped in it.
"This is the worst predicament yet!" cried Nat, as it dawned upon him that to think of returning to the "Nomad" in such a smother would be impossible.
As for Joe, he stood silent. More alarmed, though, than he cared to admit, Captain Akers fingered his beard thoughtfully.
"Nothing's so bad but it might be worse," he said soberly, "and if this fog will only lift within a reasonable time we may yet be all right."
"Yes, if the 'Nomad' will only stay in her present position," said Nat, "but the great Pacific Drift sets in hereabouts and there is a strong chance that if we are caught in it the two vessels may be drifted far asunder by the time the mists lift."
"That is so," admitted Captain Akers, "and it is too deep to anchor, confound it! Suppose we try shouting to them. Maybe they can catch our hail, although with the atmosphere so dense, I doubt it."
"It's worth trying," opined Nat, and then they all three placed their hands funnelwise to their mouths and set up a loud cry.
"No-o-o-om-a-a-a-a-a-a-d a-hoy!"
But, although they shouted till their voices were cracked, they could catch no response.
The fog had shut down so thickly now that it was impossible to see the forward part of the deck from amidships where they stood. It was truly, as Nat had said, "the worst yet!" but they pluckily set to work to make the best of it.
"After all," said Nat, "it might be far worse. We've got a good ship under our feet and a comfortable cabin to retire to. There are provisions in plenty, and if the worst comes to the worst we can live for quite a time."
"Yes, and there's water, too," put in Captain Akers, more hopefully. "I squinted into the scuttle butt when we went by it and saw that it was full of water. I tasted it and it seemed quite sweet and palatable."
"Well, then," said Joe philosophically, "the only thing to do is to make the best of it."
"That's the talk, Joe," came approvingly from Nat.
"And now," said Captain Akers, "suppose Joe that you cook us a meal. I guess we can all stand some food, and it will enable us to face whatever is to come with better courage, if we have plenty of nourishment."
"A good idea, captain," said Nat, "and if you don't mind I've got a suggestion to make."
"Make it, my lad."
"Why not put some provisions and water in the small boat? We never know what might happen, and it would be a good thing in case we had to abandon the 'Island Queen' to have the boat stocked with food and water."
"You're a good, foresighted lad," approved the captain. "It might not be a bad idea to do that first. I noticed a small water keg on the cabin house aft. We'll fill that and lower it and then follow it up with some canned stuff."
"I'll move the boat from the side to the stern," volunteered Nat, "while you and Joe select some suitable stuff to provision her with."
"Very well, my boy."
And so it came about that, thanks to Nat's foresight, the boat was stocked with food and water, a fact which was to be of signal benefit to at least one of the party later on, although, of course, as they could not look into the future, not one of them guessed this.
This work done, Joe bore an armful of canned goods, potatoes and onions to the cook house. Wood and coal were handy in a bin and he soon had a roaring fire going in the stove. While he was at this work Nat and Captain Akers investigated the cabin once more, but without lighting on any solution of the mystery of the "Island Queen's" abandonment.
"I reckon it will prove one of those mysteries of the Pacific," said the captain. "There are lots of them every year, and few of them get into the papers. For instance, there was that Chinese junk that——"
"Help! Help!"
The cry came from forward.
"It's Joe's voice!" shouted Nat. "He's in trouble."
Seizing up his pistol which he had laid down, Captain Akers was after the boy, who had hastened forward in two bounds.
Joe met them, bouncing out of the fog, with a white face.
"Nat! Nat!" he cried in a scared voice. "He's at it again!"
"Who?" exclaimed Nat.
"What?" demanded the captain, his whiskers bristling angrily.
"Why, that sailor, or ghost, or whatever it is, that Nat saw. I had just peeled my potatoes and set them in a pan near the window and turned my back for an instant when he, or it, or that, showed up. I had hardly turned before I heard a slight noise behind me. I switched round and saw a big arm reaching through that window.
"Evidently its object was to steal some potatoes. I shouted, but, instead of running away, the fellow grabbed up the whole pan and threw it at me. I was too mad to be scared and ran outside to grab him and ask him what he meant by such conduct. But when I got there the rascal had gone."
"Just the same trick he played every timeIsaw him," cried Nat. "What on earth can it all mean? Do you think that there is a lunatic on board this craft, captain?"
"I don't know what to think, my boy," rejoined the captain seriously. "Some things are beyond human comprehension, and this is one of them. If we have to spend the night on the craft, I'm thinking we had better keep a strict watch, however."
"So do I," agreed Nat. "This has gone past any joking stage. It's up to us to find out who this rascal is, and what he means by playing such pranks."
"And what those screams meant, too," said the captain.
"Yes," chimed in Joe quaveringly. "The recollection of them makes me feel bad. They were the most blood-curdling cries I ever heard."
"They were that, my boy," agreed the captain, "but I am now convinced that they did not come from anybody else's throat but the ill-favored wind-pipe of this fellow who is putting up all these pranks."
"But we've looked all over the ship, in every place in which he could hide," protested Nat, "and not found a trace of him. How do you account for that?"
"Great Scott!" groaned the captain. "I don't pretend to account for it or anything else on this extraordinary ship—I just give it up."
With this, Joe, with Nat for company, went back to his cooking. Dinner was prepared and eaten without any recurrence of the events that had so puzzled and mystified them. Darkness fell with the fog still hanging thick and dank; but they made it all snug in the cabin by lighting the hanging lamp, which cast a cheerful glow.
They wondered what was transpiring on board the "Nomad" at that hour and many guesses were made as to whether or no they had been caught in the Pacific Drift. From this the talk shifted to tales of the South Pacific Islands, amid which the captain had cruised when young. He had many interesting tales to tell of them and of the manners and customs of their natives.
It was in the midst of one of his most exciting narrations that something happened that brought them all to their feet with bounding pulses and thickly beating hearts.
From without had come distinctly the deep-toned notes of a bell!
As they stood listening, the dismal tolling recommenced. There was something uncanny and ghastly about it, coming, as it did, on board that mysterious craft.
The chime was rung out in slow, funeral style.
Boom-boom! Boom-boom!
Nat shuddered as he listened. What could it mean? He determined to find out.
Captain Akers already had the door open and stood peering forth. The fog hung, dark and dripping, all about them. One could hardly see ten paces away. But, as well as they could judge, the tolling came from the decks of the "Island Queen" herself.
"It's that ship's bell!" cried Nat. "I noticed one forward this afternoon."
As he spoke the character of the ringing changed.
The bell began to peal fast and furiously. Its clangor deafened and terrified. It sounded as if a madman had hold of the clapper string and was trying to deafen any one within hearing.
"Come on!" shouted the captain; "that's another of the rascal's tricks to scare us. We'll catch him at it this time, though, and when we do——"
He left the grim threat unfinished, as, pistol in hand, he started forward through the fog. Close on his heels came the boys, their hearts beating entirely too fast for comfort.
As they started forward the ringing ceased as abruptly as it had begun.
"That won't save you, you coward!" roared the captain into the fog. "Come on out, like a man, and face the music. Come on, you hound, and take your lesson."
But, when, within one second's time, they reached the bell which was hung just forward of the foremast, there was nobody to be seen!
Well, I will leave you to imagine for yourselves just how the boys looked and felt and acted at this amazing discovery.
They were baffled, mystified, and, to tell the truth, not a little alarmed.
A human enemy they would not have feared. But in the darkness, with the moisture from the fog dripping in a melancholy fashion on the deck, the near presence of the supernatural—for such was the only conclusion left—was, to say the least, disquieting.
While they still stood there, gazing at each other through the fog, with blank astonishment depicted on their faces, their nerves were put to a still further test.
The same sharp scream which had echoed from the uncanny vessel as she drifted by the "Nomad," of which they had since spoken with what effect we know, sounded once more.
This time it seemed to proceed from above them.
From some point high up in the mist-laden air.
Shrill and terrible it rang out. Their blood was fairly chilled with horror.
What could it mean?
Nat was far too sensible a lad to believe in ghosts. So, too, was Joe. As for Captain Akers, he was superior to most seamen in the matter of superstition, but he gave it now as his unalterable conviction that the "Island Queen" was haunted.
This was by no means a comfortable idea. After some further search—although they surmised beforehand it would be fruitless—the adventurers made their way back to the cabin, sadly puzzled and not a little confused.
After that one long scream from the upper regions dead silence had fallen. It was disturbed only by the doleful drip-drip of the fog moisture from the rigging.
"Well, boys," said the captain, as they reentered the cabin, "I, for one, ain't sorry to be back where there's light and comfort. This thing is becoming too much for me and I'm willing to own that I'm beat by it. Any one got any suggestions?"
Nobody had. Soon after they turned in, as, despite their uneasiness, all were tired out by the exciting events of the day. Nat volunteered to take the first watch, it being arranged that at midnight he was to awaken Captain Akers, who would relieve him.
The lad took up his station by the door where the steady breathing of the others soon apprised him that they had passed into slumberland. It was an eerie sensation sitting there, looking out on the fog-laden night and speculating—for, try as he would, Nat could not help doing so—on the nature of the invader who had so sadly disturbed them.
He had his rifle in his hands and determined to keep bright and wide awake, so that if anything occurred which might have a bearing on the mystery he would be able to solve it. Just how long he had sat there before something happened to break the monotony Nat did not know. It might have been an hour or it might have been two. But he had noticed that the fog was beginning to lift when at the same instant he perceived a shadowy form come creeping along the decks, making toward the stern.
The figure was bent almost double and swung two long arms as it advanced. After his first gasp of surprise, Nat noted that the newcomer was unarmed. This thought gave him new courage and, slipping within the shadow of the door, he watched the figure's advance.
But, whatever its mission, it did not apparently mean harm to the occupants of the cabin, for, after a brief pause near there, it kept right on to the stern.
As it passed Nat slipped out of his place of concealment and took after it, treading softly the while, so as not to alarm the marauder. He was curious to see what the fellow was up to. When he did make out Nat was seized with a sudden fury and sprang forward.
The figure, after advancing right up to the stern-rail, could be seen, in the now clearing atmosphere, to be fumbling with something.
"Great Ginger! He's casting our boat loose!" gasped Nat.
As he made this discovery the boy was too engrossed to notice that a puff of wind came over the water. In their activity, since they had been on board, not one of them had thought to lower the schooner's sails. She heeled to the wind which momentarily grew steadier and forged gently ahead. But of all this Nat—to his cost, as we shall see later—was oblivious.
The discovery he had made of the nefarious work the mysterious inhabitant of the schooner was about had aroused his rage.
With an angry shout, he sprang forward, rifle in hand, toward the midnight skulker.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded, with an angry inflection in his voice.
Then, as the figure switched around, he added, leveling his rifle:
"Throw up your hands and don't dare to move. I've caught you at last."
But, to his surprise, instead of remaining still, the figure made a swift dash for him. Before he could make a move Nat, caught quite off his guard, for he had not dreamed of opposition, found the rifle whisked from his hands by a herculean grasp and hurled overside.
The next instant those mighty arms had encircled Nat himself.
The lad, despite his strength and activity, was a child in that grip of steel.
He felt himself helplessly snatched from his feet and the breath crushed out of his body.
This stifled his agonized cry for help.
In one dreadful flash of insight he saw that the creature which now held him was hairy, unclothed, and ferocious to a degree. But while he still perceived this subconsciously, struggling vainly to free himself, his captor made a rush for the rail of the schooner.
The next instant Nat felt himself hurtling through the air, uttering a choked cry.
But his shout was drowned as the water closed above his head. His last recollection, as he sank, was of a shrill and terrible cry mingling with and overpowering his own appeal. It was the same cry that they had heard twice before, and, for a third time, in the air above them.
Nat, who was a strong and self-possessed swimmer, came to the surface almost at once after his submersion and at once looked about for the schooner. But, to his horror, he now saw what he had not observed before, and that was that the vessel was moving quite smartly through the water.
"Help! Help! Help!" shouted Nat, treading water.
But his cry was unheard.
In a perfect agony of fear and apprehension as to his future fate, he watched the schooner slip off into the now light-hanging mist and vanish!
The boy was alone in the Pacific solitude with nothing but his own strength to rely on, and Nat knew that long before he could be picked up his powers would have been exhausted. It was the most trying moment of all his life, and Nat, as we know, had faced grave perils in his career.
But the young Motor Ranger was in a position in which thinking could accomplish nothing—action was the thing.
Treading water, so as to conserve all his strength, he looked about him. For a brief interval he had cherished a hope that he might catch a glimpse of the "Nomad" in the now clearing atmosphere. But this hope proved to be a chimera. No trace of the power cruiser was to be seen.
Nat gave a low groan.
"I don't see what is going to become of me," he thought. "If assistance does not soon arrive from some quarter, it will be too late. And yet where can I look for aid? Captain Akers, and Joe, are both sound sleepers. Unless that monster should attack them, they may not awaken till daylight. By that time my body will be at the bottom of the Pacific."
The boy gave way entirely to his gloomy forebodings. And there was a good excuse for Nat's apprehension. A swimmer's endurance is not unlimited. He had never tested his powers to the uttermost in the water, but he was pretty sure that if he was still on the surface when day broke that he would be singularly fortunate.
Suddenly something bumped against the lad in the darkness.
Nat gave a cry half of alarm. For one instant he thought of sharks and all that an attack by those ferocious monsters would mean.
The next instant, however, he realized that what had bumped him in the darkness was nothing more nor less than a largish stick of timber. Apparently it had once been a spar on some castaway vessel. But whatever its past history, Nat hailed it with joy. Seizing on it, he buoyed himself up and felt greatly relieved, both mentally and physically. With this support under him, he could remain on the surface much longer than would otherwise have been possible. His spirits rose. Perhaps, after all, he would be saved. The coming of the bit of wood had seemed providential, but Nat, looking about him, now perceived that its coming was not so accidental as it had seemed. The water all about him was thickly strewn with logs and boxes and barrels.
Seemingly he was in some sort of current which had attracted all this miscellaneous flotsam.
All at once the solution occurred to him.
The great Pacific Drift!
He was on the bosom of that mysterious current. This could scarcely be doubted. But the thought brought with it a dismal sense of isolation and depression.
Ships steered clear of the Drift. There was too much debris floating on its surface to suit them.
That being the case he stood still less of a chance of attracting the attention of some vessel than he had first hoped.
With such unpleasant thoughts to bear him company, Nat passed the night away, clinging to his friendly log. It was to its timely arrival that he owed the fact that he was on the surface of the ocean instead of being drowned from exhaustion.
The sun rose on an unclouded expanse of sea. The water shone as bluely under the rays of the luminary as did the sky. A burning, intense steel-like blue.
Nat, casting despairingly about for a sail, or the sign of a ship, could meet with nothing to mar the desolate monotony of the ocean wastes. He seemed to be alone on the wide, spreading waters.
As the sun rose higher it grew hotter. All the world seemed to be on fire. The heat burned the salt into Nat's drenched skin and caused him excruciating pain.
By noon the lad, suffering intensely for lack of water, was half delirious. Floating out there in the broad Pacific on a weed-grown, barnacled log, he babbled of green shady groves and running mountain streams.
He heard his voice rattling on in its delirium with the detached interest of a person listening to somebody else.
Yet he knew it was himself talking in that rambling, foolish way.
"I must be going crazy!" he gasped. "Oh, heaven! for one drop of cold water."
He raised his eyes and beheld, coming toward him, something that almost made him release his grip of the log from sheer astonishment.
Not a hundred yards from him, and bobbing gently up and down on the long swells, was a small boat.
"If I can only get on board her, I'll be far better off than I would be here," muttered Nat to himself.
He kicked out vigorously and was soon alongside the drifting shallop. There was something strangely familiar about her looks to him. As he climbed on board her, by way of the stern, he soon saw why.
It was the collapsible boat which they had put overboard from the "Nomad" and the same one which he had detected the mysterious enemy of the "Island Queen" in the very act of casting loose. Seemingly that individual had achieved his malicious purpose and the boat, caught in the Pacific Drift, had slowly been drawn along in the mile-wide current of debris and flotsam. The chance was a providential one for Nat, at all events.
As will be recalled, the boat had been stocked up with provisions and a water keg put on board by the party marooned on the mysterious schooner. The first thing Nat made for was that keg. It was the work of an instant to turn the spigot and place his mouth to the refreshing stream that gushed forth. True, the water was warm, almost hot, in fact, but to Nat no nectar, brewed on high Olympus itself, could have tasted more delicious. He drank and then paused for breath and then, applying himself afresh to the spigot, he drank again.
The boy kept this up till his thirst was fully quenched, and then he turned his attention to the eatables. Luckily all the canned stuff was fitted with patent keys, so that no can opener was needed. The bag of ships biscuit contained all that was wanted in the way of bread. Nat thought, as he ate, that he had never tasted a more delicious meal.
When he had finished he gave a sigh of repletion and looked about him. The sea was still as empty as the sky. But the sun had sunk lower and the heat was not so intense.
As he gazed about him, over that vast, lonely expanse, Nat's apprehensions—lulled for a time—returned tenfold. If he was not picked up, what would become of him?
He shuddered as he realized what his fate was likely to be. When his food and water were exhausted he would drift till death overtook him. Perhaps months, and maybe years, afterward his body, dried by the heat, would be found adrift on the Pacific and form another of those "ocean mysteries," of which Captain Akers had told.
The thought was not a cheerful one and Nat tried to busy his mind with other thoughts. What were they doing on board the "Nomad"? What would they be thinking on the schooner? What of the mysterious man, of giant strength, to whose vindictive action he owed all his present trouble?
"It's a queer situation all around," thought Nat. "Here am I on the ocean in a rowboat. Joe and Captain Akers are marooned on a schooner, filled with mystery, and the 'Nomad' is crippled and drifting about some place, under sail. Shall we ever all meet again, I wonder?"
So the afternoon passed and the sun grew lower and set. Night rushed down over the sea with all the swiftness characteristic of those latitudes. Nat, his head sunk in his hands, allowed his boat to drift. He had oars, but, he felt, what was the use of using them? One way was the same as another to him in his predicament. Let the boat drift at her will.
But by and by the darkness and the inaction got on his nerves. Picking up the oars, he fell to work feverishly, trying to forget his troubles in the work. The boat fairly cut along. For some hours he kept this up and then, worn out, he cast himself on the bottom of his craft and sank into a deep sleep.
He was awakened by a sharp tug at his sleeve. Starting up, Nat heard the loud swish of wings. In the darkness he could dimly make out a huge, winged form making off through the air.
"Ugh!" he exclaimed, with a shudder, "that was some bird of prey that concluded that I was dead. It was about to make a meal off me if I had not moved."
Nat shook nervously as he realized that, if some way was not found out of his predicament before long, he would in very truth be food for just such birds.
The thought bestirred him to action. He sat bolt upright and gazed about him. But nothing that he could perceive within his limited radius of view appeared to give him hope. The night was as silent as the sea. Overhead the stars burned steadily and with a soft intensity not seen in the east.
As he gazed up at them a sudden thought was born in Nat's brain. He threw himself on his knees on the bottom of the boat and, clasping his hands, he besought his Maker to look down in pity upon him. His heart seemed lightened as he prayed.
When he had finished he looked about him once more. At first everything seemed to be the same as when he had withdrawn his gaze; but, after a minute, he perceived that on the far-distant horizon something unusual was showing. A dull, red glow.
As he gazed it grew brighter and spread till it seemed to light up the whole sky. The atmosphere burned blood-red with the light.
"A ship on fire!" thought Nat.
Then came the idea:
"If so, some of her crew have likely escaped and taken to the boats. I'll row over toward them. They say 'misery loves company.' I'm sure I shall be glad to fall in with any one to whom I can talk and who can possibly guide me to some place of safety."
So thinking, Nat fell to his oars and began pulling, with might and main, for the distant glow.
But distances at sea are deceptive. It seemed to him he had pulled at least five miles when he gave a second glance over his shoulder at the fiery sky.
To his disappointment, the blaze seemed to be as far off as ever. Nat knew, however, that this could not be the case, and, bending to his oars once more, he pluckily pulled onward. He was rewarded, in a few minutes, by finding the light growing visibly stronger and the blaze closer to hand.
As yet, however, he had seen no boats, nor traces of refugees from the burning ship—such as he surmised the glow must be caused by.
"Maybe they are all waiting near by to see the last of their vessel," thought Nat. "In that case I must hurry up or she'll have burned to the water's edge before I arrive."
But when Nat had drawn quite close the blaze was still burning fiercely. The flames were shooting up skyward, dimming the stars and making a grand spectacle. Fountains of sparks soared heavenward as every now and then some beam subsided with a crash. Nat could hear the hissing of the water as charred embers fell overboard.
What rig the vessel had been was, of course, impossible for the boy to make out, for when he arrived within a short distance of her she was already burned down to a mere hulk. Her masts and upper works had vanished some time before, a prey to the savage flames.
All at once a hail came across the waters.
"Boat ahoy!"
To Nat it seemed that he must be in a dream. It could not be possible that the voice he heard was Joe Hartley's, and yet it was mighty familiar.
Again came the hail. This time there was no question about it. It was Joe, though how he happened to be there Nat had no idea. Half stunned by astonishment, he hailed back:
"Joe—old fellow—is it really you!"
"Sure enough, Nat," cried the voice, while a cheer, given in hearty American style, rang out over the crimsoned waters.
At the same instant, from the midst of the intense glare, which had hitherto prevented Nat from seeing any distance, glided the well-known form of the "Nomad." Nat came near fainting a second time from sheer surprise as he saw her, for the power-craft was not under sail, but came gliding swiftly on, evidently running under motor power.
Ten minutes later he was on board and after a perfect tempest of congratulations, handshakings and questions had been bandied about, Joe explained it all.
After Nat had been missed from the "Island Queen," they naturally suffered most intense anxiety on his behalf. What made it all the more puzzling was that the boat was missing also. But right then they had troubles of their own on hand as well as Nat's strange disappearance. It will be recalled that the two were asleep when Nat was hurled overboard from the schooner and they did not—as Nat had surmised would be the case—awaken till some time later.
When they did so it was to find Nat gone and the schooner staggering along, at a lively gait, under all sail. Luckily Captain Akers recalled that he had seen some navigating instruments in the cabin of the "Island Queen." As the bearings of the "Nomad" had been taken the day before, it was a simple matter by figuring out their then position to sail the schooner back to where they had left her—simple, that is, so far as the mathematical part of the proposition went.
But the "sailor part" of it was different. Luckily, however, the wind did not increase in violence and, leaving the helm to Joe, Captain Akers managed to get the vessel about. To their huge delight, they found that the good sense of Captain Nelsen had prevented the "Nomad" being moved in search of them, as had been the wish of the others left on board. Captain Nelsen, however, had argued that they had better stop right in that position, or as nearly so as possible, in case Captain Akers did find—as proved to be the case—his way back again.
The "Nomad" and the schooner were then coupled together by means of grappling irons and amid general rejoicing—which was sadly marred by the news of Nat's vanishment—the work of transferring her cargo of kerosene to the "Nomad" was begun. While it went on Sam Hinckley, skillfully mended up the fuel tanks and, after they were declared tight, they were filled. The engine was started and was found to work perfectly on the stuff, as, in fact, the builders had assured Captain Akers it would.
"So there we were, all ready to go onward once more, but without you we could not and would not proceed," said Joe, throwing his arm about Nat's shoulders as the latter sat beside him on the "Nomad's" bridge, the glow of the fire still lighting up the scene.
"But, Joe," exclaimed Nat, "you haven't yet told me the most interesting part of all this. What vessel is that on fire? And what has become of the mysterious sailor?"
"I'm coming to that," said Joe.
"I wish you had begun there," laughed Nat, "considering that the rascal threw me overboard."
"Listen and you will hear his fate," said Joe, with a grandiloquent air. Nat hung on his words as the lad proceeded.