CHAPTER XII.
THE CALAMITY ON FRENCH REEF.
I jumped to the conclusion that the Islander had struck on one of the shoals I had noticed on the chart, and the heavy sea was pounding her on the bottom. It could be only a question of time when she would knock a hole in her bottom and go to pieces. Washburn was wide awake as soon as he heard the gun, and giving him the wheel, I proceeded to examine the chart.
According to the dead-reckoning we ought to be a little to the southward of French Shoal. While I was satisfying myself in regard to our position, another gun sounded over the troubled sea.
"That can't be the Islander's gun," said Washburn. "She has nothing on board but a little yacht gun, and the piece we heard is a six, if not a twelve pounder."
"I think you are right, Bob. The sound came from the leeward. I have no doubt it is some vessel in distress; and we must do something for her. Call all hands," I continued, as I took the wheel, and headed the Sylvania due west by the compass.
Though it was not foggy, the air was thick, and I could see nothing ahead. We had a very strong wind on our port quarter, and it was extremely dangerous to approach the reefs from the windward. In a moment all hands were on deck, except Moses Brickland, who was required to take the engine whenever all hands were called on an emergency. I directed Hop Tossford to take the wheel, and keep her due west. I asked the mate to fire our little yacht gun, in answer to the signals we had heard. The moment the report sounded through the vessel I heard Mrs. Shepard scream.
I told the chief engineer to give the steamer about half speed, and hastened into the cabin to satisfy the passengers that nothing had happened to us, and explain what we were doing. Mrs. Shepard assured us that we should all be lost; but I told her we would be extremely careful.
I asked my father, Colonel Shepard, and Owen to come on deck, leaving Mr. Tiffany and Gus Shepard to take charge of the ladies. I explained the situation to them, and while we were talking about it another gun was heard to leeward. It sounded heavier and nearer than before, and I was sure the signal was not given by the Islander.
"It is plain enough that a vessel has gone ashore on one of these reefs," I said. "I can see nothing ahead, but the gun sounds in this direction."
Before the words were fairly out of my mouth, a sky rocket flashed up directly over our bow. We had rockets on board, and I directed Ben to discharge one of them. It was followed by another from the vessel in distress. Then some Bengola lights were fired, and they illuminated the sea for a mile at least around her. Buck Lingley was sounding, and reporting no bottom. I told the engineer to give her more steam, for I feared the people on the unfortunate vessel might be drowning, and a minute might save a life, if not more. As long as the bright Bengola light burned, I kept the steamer going at full speed. Most of the dangerous reefs were marked by beacons, or at least the outer range of the reef was so marked.
The sea was very heavy, and Buck Lingley still reported no bottom. He used a hand lead, which measures twenty fathoms of depth. The Bengola light soon burned out, and I rang the speed-bell. This reduced our rate one half. But it seemed to me that we were going altogether too fast, as the strong south-east gale was driving us towards the reefs. I rang the gong, and the vessel stopped.
"And a half seventeen!" shouted Buck.
"The water is shoaling," said the mate.
"By the mark ten!" called the leadsman.
"Get out some rockets and Bengola lights, Washburn," I continued, nervously. "The people on the wreck don't even give us a light to steer by."
"And a half seven!" shouted the leadsman.
I rang to back her, for she shoaled too rapidly for my nerves. I told the mate to light a Bengola on the heel of the bowsprit. When he did so the brilliant light enabled me to see the wreck very distinctly, and less than a hundred yards from the Sylvania. She was a large bark, with all her sails furled. Her captain had probably taken in all sail as soon as the vessel struck the reef.
The chart informed me there were rocks only a few feet below the surface of the water. The wreck was headed to the south-west, but this could not have been the direction in which she was sailing when she struck the reef. On that course she would have got into trouble before.
"By the deep seven!" said the leadsman, in loud and shrill tones.
I rang to go ahead again, and at the same time told the mate to keep the Bengola lights burning. Ben Bowman was stationed at the end of the bowsprit that the light might not blind his eyes. I had purchased a plentiful supply of fireworks in New York for festive occasions, and we were in no danger of exhausting them, as they had evidently done on the wreck.
"Give her about ten turns a minute, Moses!" I called to the engineer through the speaking-tube.
"Ten turns a minute!" he replied, to make sure that I had been understood.
"Steady, as she is, Hop!" I said to the wheel-man. "If you see anything like a buoy, stop and back her as quick as you can."
"Ay, ay, sir," replied the wheelman.
I went on the hurricane-deck to get a better view of the wreck. It was hard to stand up in that part of the vessel, for she pitched and rolled very badly, while she was making so little headway. By holding on at the railing, I got to a point where I could hug the foremast. The wreck was very low down, and I concluded that she was full of water.
"And a half six!" said Buck.
This was thirty-nine feet of water, and we were in no danger yet. The waves were beating over the deck of the bark. It was clear enough that she must go to pieces before morning. Her bulwarks were stove on the weather side of her; and while I was looking at her the foremast went by the board. I saw that the step of the mast must have been torn away by grinding upon the rocks.
We were within a hundred feet of her stern, and the billows were too savage to permit of going any nearer. I hastened down to the pilothouse, rang to stop her, and then to back her. I intended to be sure that we had full control of the steamer before we went any nearer. I found that the Sylvania backed well against the head sea, and then I stopped her screw.
In an instant I found that the steamer was driving towards the wreck. I rang to back her again, and readily checked her.
I saw that the only way I could approach the unfortunate vessel was to get under her lee. The sea was altogether too rough for our little quarter boats, though both of them were life-boats. By occasionally backing the screw, we ran within fifty feet of the wreck, and I could hear the roar of the gale through the standing rigging of the bark, and the heavy pounding of the billows against her side.
"Steamer ahoy!" shouted a man on the taffrail of the vessel.
"On board the bark!" replied Washburn, on the topgallant forecastle. "What is the condition of the vessel?"
"Our forefoot is gone, and we are stove through forward. She is full of water," replied the man. "She is grinding on the reef, and will go to pieces in a few hours."
"How much water have you under your lee?" I shouted.
"From one to three fathoms," replied the captain of the bark, as we judged that he was.
With the utmost care I ran the Sylvania under the lee of the bark; and I think it must have taken all the tact of Moses Brickland to handle the engine in accordance with the bells I rang. But as soon as the bow of the steamer was under the lee of the bark it was in comparatively smooth water. From the statement of the captain, and the depth of water he reported, I concluded that one of the sharp spurs of rock was sticking through her bottom near where her forefoot had been, and that she was held in this position by the reef. Buck kept on sounding, and reported four fathoms at the stern of the wreck. Cobbington was now in charge of the Bengolas, and Washburn was getting the hawsers ready to make fast to the bark. We put out our fenders, and the mate heaved a line into the waist of the wreck. Ben Bowman did the same, throwing his line over the stern. The lines were caught by the seamen on board, and made fast.
Though the water was fairly still at the leeward of the bark, I found that the vessel was rolling badly, and greatly endangering the safety of the Sylvania. The gale was driving the wreck farther on the reef, and I feared that the mainmast would go by the board and fall on the steamer.
"All aboard that are going!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, as I stood at the wheel, ready to do whatever an emergency might require. The two vessels were grinding their sides together, and nothing but our fenders saved our planks from being torn off.
The men on board the bark were very slow in seeking safety, and I was about to repeat my former call, when I saw two women appear on the rail by the mizzen rigging. Our hands hastened to their assistance, and as the bark was so low in the water they had no difficulty in getting them on our hurricane-deck. As soon as they were safely on board, the men poured in upon us without further delay. There was not one among them that would leave the wreck until the women were safe. The officers and seamen brought with them whatever they could carry of their personal property. One of them returned and cast off the hawsers.
As soon as the fasts were cast off, I rang to back her; and, bringing the Sylvania's head up to the wind, I wore her gradually around till she was headed to the eastward. The sea was white with foam from the raging billows, and the little steamer leaped like an antelope as she went ahead on her course. It was impossible to stand up in any part of her. I ran out about four miles to the eastward, where the steamer was when we heard the signal-gun from the wreck. We had been absent on our run to the reef about two hours. We laid our course as before, and I gave the wheel to Hop Tossford, that I might attend to the wants of the shipwrecked guests on board.
The Sylvania was rolling on her new course at a frightful rate, and our deck was deluged with water every moment. The gale seemed to be increasing rather than diminishing, and I was not sure how long we could stand such a tumbling about as we were getting. With no little difficulty and exertion we got a reefed foresail up, which steadied her very much. I went down into the cabin, where I had sent the ladies from the wreck. I found our passengers propped up in such ways as they could devise to keep from being hurled across the cabin floor at each roll of the vessel. The strangers seemed to be quite at home, and were relating their adventures to the other ladies, who were listening with so much interest that they appeared to have forgotten the Sylvania was laboring in a very heavy sea. I saw that I was not wanted there. I went on deck, and found that the sailors from the wreck were stowed away in the dryest places they could find.
I invited them all down into the forward cabin, and assigned the mate to the spare berth there. The others must sleep on the floor, for we could do nothing better for them.
"Mr. Mate, where is your captain?" I asked.
"I don't think he came below, sir. He is feeling very badly about the loss of his vessel," replied the mate. "I will try to find him."
He went on deck with me, and we found him coiled away under the topgallant forecastle. I invited him to come into the pilot-house, and he followed me thither.
"I am sorry for your misfortune, Captain," I said, when he had seated himself abaft the wheel.
"It is a sorry night for me. My vessel is lost, and I have not the least idea how it happened," he replied, very sadly.
I did my best to comfort him. I saw that he was quite as much exhausted by his mental sufferings as by his physical exertions. I conducted him to my state-room, and gave him my berth. In a short time he was asleep.
CHAPTER XIII.
A NIGHT LOST IN THE STORM.
At eleven o'clock we changed the course of the Sylvania to south-west half-west, which brought the gale nearly on the beam. The wind was blowing but little, if anything, short of a hurricane. The great billows struck against the side of the vessel and the house on deck with tremendous force. It seemed just as though immense boulders were hurled against the planking that enclosed my state-room, the galley, and the engine-room. The sea swept over the hurricane-deck, and struck heavily upon the planks overhead.
Suddenly I heard a noise over my head, as I stood at the wheel, which sounded like the report of a heavy cannon. I thought the sea had broken a hole through. In another instant the steamer was rolling with double the violence of a few minutes before.
"What was that noise, Hop?" I asked, when I saw that no water was pouring down upon us.
"It was the foresail, sir; it has been blown out of the bolt-ropes," replied Hop, coolly; and he seemed to be incapable of anything like fear. "We have lost the reefed foresail, and that is what makes her roll so much worse than she did five minutes ago."
Undoubtedly he was right. The sail had steadied her more than we could have imagined; and now she rolled like a log in a mill-race. The sea struck the side of my state-room as though a rock weighing a ton had been cast against it by some giant of the sea or the storm. I was afraid our house on deck would be carried away by the tempest.
On board of a large vessel, the loss of a house on deck was a matter of no serious consequences. It was entirely different with the Sylvania, for the loss of it would open the hold to the entrance of the sea. The deluge of water would put out the fire in the furnaces, disabling the engine. The result must be the loss of the vessel and all on board of her. I trembled when I thought of it. Another mountain billow struck the house a little farther aft. I was not willing to wait for another sea to strike her in what I regarded as her weakest point, and we put the helm down. We must give up our course for the safety of the vessel.
The steamer made a terrible plunge as we shifted the helm, but we soon got her across the sea. Now she pitched instead of rolling. I called to the engineer, through the speaking-tube, to give her but about half speed, for it made her labor more heavily to drive her into the seas. I calculated that this rate of speed would keep her about stationary on the water. I soon found that she was falling astern. I directed the engineer to give her more steam. I soon gauged it so that she had headway enough to keep her up to the seas without forcing her through them. A sort of equilibrium was established, which gave her an easier position, though it was by no means an easy one. Her bow rose so that the deck must have been at an angle of forty-five degrees, and then she dived down from the top of a big wave at about the same angle.
Our port and starboard, as well as the masthead light were burning, and we had closed in the pilot-house, so that we could see nothing ahead. But I found the steamer was manageable when I had got her head to the sea, and I sent Hop Tossford to call the mate and Buck Lingley. I could not tell what might happen, and I felt that all hands should be on deck. I wondered they had not put in an appearance before. But they were all used to this sort of thing, for we had been through a tempest almost as bad in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and several milder ones at other times.
The water swashed fore and aft, but no longer pounded against the house on deck. It poured over the bow, so that it was not safe to put a man on the lookout there. The only thing we had to fear while we were lying-to in this manner was a collision with some other vessel. The water poured into the pilot-house so that we could not keep the windows open. I sent Buck to the hurricane-deck, with directions to lash himself to the foremast, and keep under the shelter of the dome of the pilot-house. When I had done this, and heard Buck on the deck over me, I felt that I had met the last and most imminent danger of the hour.
Though the steamer was still laboring heavily against the tremendous head seas, she appeared to be holding her position in safety. I gave the helm to Washburn and Ben Bowman, for it required two to move the wheel promptly in that violent sea, and went to pay a visit to the cabin, for I supposed the passengers were enduring torments of suspense and terror.
On the way I looked into my state-room. The captain of the wrecked bark appeared to be still asleep, and I did not disturb him. Following one of the life-lines we always bent on in a gale, I reached the after companion-way. Like everything in the shape of an opening on deck, it was securely fastened. But I had a key, and descended the cabin-stairs, locking the door behind me. Most of the passengers were still up. Some had retired to their berths, though probably not to sleep.
My father and Mr. Tiffany were playing chess, and did not seem to be at all disturbed by the war of the elements. Colonel Shepard was holding his wife upon a sofa, and Owen and Gus were skylarking in the after-part of the cabin.
"Isn't it terrible, Captain Alick?" asked Mrs. Shepard, in trembling tones.
"I must say it was about as bad as anything I ever was out in, though we had it about as bad once on Lake Superior," I replied, as cheerfully as the occasion required.
"Do you think there is any danger?"
"I don't think there is just now," I answered. "The steamer is working very well at present, much better than she was an hour ago."
"I thought the water would break through upon us at one time," added the nervous lady.
"I was afraid it would. We had our foresail blown out of the bolt-ropes, and she made bad work of it after that. But we have laid her to now, and she is behaving as well as any vessel of this size can in such a sea."
"When do you suppose it will be over?" asked the lady, anxiously.
"It is a south-east gale, or rather hurricane, and probably it will not last long. I shall look for better weather by sunrise, if not before," I replied, as I left the cabin.
On my way back to the pilot-house I stopped in at the engine-room. I found Moses Brickland, seated on his leather-cushioned divan, watching the movements of the engine. Notwithstanding the uneasy movement of the vessel the machinery seemed to be working very regularly.
"How does she go, Moses?" I asked.
"She has done very well since you headed her up to the sea," he answered, without taking his gaze from the engine. "At one time I thought the sea would break in upon us and swamp the fires. It would have been all up with us then."
"I felt so myself, and I headed her up to the sea when I saw that it was no longer safe to keep her on her course. But I suppose you want to turn in, Moses."
"I, no; I am perfectly satisfied to keep my place here till morning," he replied.
"I want Ben Bowman at the wheel, with Washburn. She steers so hard in this sea that we need to change hands every hour. But I hope we shall soon be able to relieve you," I added.
"I don't have very hard work, and I can stand it very well till morning."
I returned to the wheel-house. It was about two bells, or one in the morning. The tempest had not increased in the last hour, and I hoped we had seen the worst of it. We were working the engine just enough to keep the steamer's head up to the sea. The Sylvania behaved so well in her present position that I dismissed the port watch at two in the morning; but I could not think of turning in myself while there was any possibility of trouble ahead. I remained in the pilot-house with Washburn, while Buck Lingley was on the lookout on the hurricane-deck. We held our position till about four in the morning, when it was evident that the gale was breaking, though the sea was still very heavy.
"Light on the port quarter," said Buck, at one of the small windows of the pilot-house in front of his station.
I rushed over to the port side, but the windows were so covered with water that I could see nothing. It was raining hard, as it had been since midnight. I went on deck, grasping a life-line to keep me from being knocked over by the flood of water that flowed down from the forecastle. I reached the ladder and went up to the hurricane-deck.
I supposed the light the lookout had seen was on some vessel. It was at least ten miles distant; and after a time I satisfied myself that it was a revolving light. It also flashed, and I was confident it was eight or ten miles distant. I was rather bewildered, for I had not expected to find a light in that direction. I hastened down to the pilot-house to consult the Coast Pilot. I reviewed the course we had followed after leaving the wrecked bark. By our reckoning we were about twenty miles to the southward of Carysfort Light when we headed the steamer to the eastward.
We had kept the screw turning all the time, and I supposed we had been making some headway during the five hours we had been on this tack. What was the light, then?
We were headed directly into the Bahama Islands, and I knew we had not gone far enough to place any light in those islands on our port quarter. The description in the book of Carysfort Light corresponded with what I had made out by observation.
"We are about ten miles to the south-east of Carysfort Light," I said to Washburn, when I had satisfied myself of the fact.
"Impossible! That would put us about where we were when you called all hands last night!" exclaimed the mate.
"The Light is about where it was when we began to go to the southward at ten last evening," I replied.
"But we have been going to the southward and eastward for the last five hours."
"It does not appear that we have gone at all," I continued, looking over the pages of the book. "We have been drifting all the time. The steamer is in the Gulf Stream, and that, with the fierce wind, has carried her a long distance from where I supposed she was. I find that in a strong easterly wind the Gulf Stream sets to the westward, and runs in among the Keys. I have no doubt now that this is the reason why the bark struck last night on the rocks to the southward of French Reef."
"It appears from what you say that we have not carried steam enough to prevent us from being drifted to the westward as well as to the northward," added Washburn.
"That is the fact: we have been drifting about north-northwest. In a few hours more we should have been on the reef. Ring the speed-bell."
It was plain enough by this time, when it was almost broad daylight, that the force of the gale was spent. In less than an hour the wind subsided entirely, and the wind whirled to the south, then to the west, and finally settled in the north-west. We made our course to the southward. The clouds rolled away, and the sun rose bright and beautiful after one of the hardest nights I had ever known.
The wind began to freshen from the north-west, and at six o'clock we had all sail on her. We all wondered what had become of the Islander. Captain Blastblow was evidently well acquainted with the navigation of the Florida Reefs, or he would not have taken his vessel through the dangerous channel he had chosen. But I was too tired to talk much, and I slept an hour in Washburn's berth until breakfast-time. When I waked, I found the captain of the bark sitting in a chair in the state-room.
CHAPTER XIV.
LOOKING FOR THE ISLANDER.
The captain of the bark was a man of about fifty. He was bald, and his hair and whiskers were sprinkled with gray. I had no doubt that the violent storm had made an end of his vessel, for the wreck was exposed to the full fury of the sea, tenfold more violent after we left it than before.
"Good morning, Captain; I hope you are quite well this morning," I began.
"I am well enough, thank you; but I cannot forget that I have lost my ship," he replied. "You had a rough night of it on deck; and I don't think I ever knew a vessel to pitch and roll so badly as this one did."
"It was a terrible blow, and this is a very small vessel, though she is as strong as wood and iron could make her. If she had not been well built, the sea would have taken the house off this deck."
"I thought it was going to do so as it was. I think she was exceedingly well handled, or she would have gone to the bottom," continued the captain. "I have no doubt there are scores of wrecks along the Keys this morning, and many a good fellow may miss his mess after this."
I gave him a full account of the storm, and of our being carried so far out of our course by the wind and the current. I told him that we had been delayed so long by the wreck and the storm that we probably should not reach Key West till three or four in the afternoon.
"I suppose we shall be lucky to get there at all after all that has happened to us," replied the captain. "What you say about drifting so far out of your course strikes me as being a little strange."
"What was the name of your vessel, Captain?—I have not even learned your name," I continued. I intended to point out to him the way in which the bark had been lost; but I wanted to know something more about the voyage of the unfortunate vessel.
"Captain Mayfield; and the bark was the Olive, of New York, from New Orleans, with a cargo of cotton from the latter port," replied the captain. "I owned a third of her myself; but she is well insured, and so is her cargo. My wife and daughter were with me, and are now in the after cabin."
"I think you were fortunate to escape with your lives," I added.
"I know we were, Captain—I don't know your name any better than you did mine; and it strikes me that you are a very young fellow to be in command of a steamer, though she is a very small one."
"My name is Alexander Garningham, and I am generally called Captain Alick. I have been on the water most of the time since I was ten years old, either on the sea or on the great lakes. I have had as rough a time on Lake Superior as we had last night, if not a rougher." I told my story as briefly as I could.
"Your education has not been neglected, Captain Alick," continued Captain Mayfield. "If you had not managed the Sylvania so well last night, most of us must have perished; for I have no doubt that the Olive went to pieces before midnight. She was a well-built vessel, but rather old. The gale kept forcing her up to the sharp coral rocks, and she was grinding off her timbers at a very rapid rate when we left her. If there had been any chance for her I would not have left her. I had reduced sail at dark, when it began to freshen into a gale. We had the wind on the beam, and the bark was behaving very well."
"It began to blow the heaviest about six bells," I added.
"We did not get the worst of it. We had the foretop-mast staysail, fore and main topsails, and the spanker set. The Gulf Stream was with us, and we were making not less than ten knots an hour. I expected soon to see Carysfort Light. Our course was north, a quarter east, and I had no doubt I was making it good."
"I am afraid not."
"Of course I know now that I did not make it good; but I can't see any reason why I did not."
"I can," I interposed. "It was for the same reason that we were drifted so far to the northward and westward. When the wind comes strong from an easterly direction the current of the Gulf Stream is partly turned to the westward."
"I have read that in the Coast Pilot; but I have been through these waters so many times without noticing anything of the kind, that I did not think of it last night. The first hint I had that anything was wrong was when the Olive struck on the rocks. I knew from the sound of the crash that she had stove a hole in her bow. She flew back, and then the wind jammed her on again. I sent hands aloft to furl the topsails, and others to haul down the jib and take in the spanker. But she drove on the rocks all the same; and I knew that would be the end of her."
I invited the captain to visit the cabin, for I thought he would wish to see his wife and daughter. Our passengers were all at breakfast, and engaged in talking over the events of the night. Captain Mayfield was invited to join them, and I advised him to do so, while I went back to the deck to attend to the wants of the rest of the ship's company of the Olive. The sailors were all on deck, and the mate was in the pilot-house with Washburn. Gopher had made provision for feeding the addition to our passengers. I invited the two mates of the Olive down into the fore-cabin to breakfast, while the cook and steward were supplying the sailors on the forecastle. I found that Gopher had been liberal in his supplies, both as to quantity and quality, for the wrecked people.
By eight o'clock breakfast had been served to all on board. I had not slept above four hours in two nights, though my short nap had refreshed me a little. Washburn and all the rest of the crew had been on duty most of the night, and they were very much fatigued. Moses Brickland had served a double watch, and Ben Bowman had worked like a trooper most of the night. I decided, as it was pleasant and plain sailing, to send all hands to their berths, and take the helm myself, with Ben at the engine; for he declared that he could stand it with only two hours' sleep a week. Captain Mayfield and his two mates soon joined me in the pilot-house. I was so sleepy myself that I could not help gaping and yawning.
"You've had a hard night of it, Captain Alick, while I have had a whole night below," said Captain Mayfield. "Myself and my mates have all seen service in a steamer, and we should be very glad to relieve you."
"Thank you, Captain. I acknowledge that I am rather worn out; but a little steamer like the Sylvania has her ways, and is peculiar," I replied.
"Let Beach take the wheel, and you shall see whether he can handle her," persisted Captain Mayfield.
Beach was the second mate, and I assented. I gave him the course, and he kept her steady to it. I lay down on the bench abaft the wheel, and before I knew it I didn't know anything. But I slept only a few minutes, and when I waked I found the first mate at the wheel. He was simply trying his hand at it. A little while after the captain took his turn. We could see the Keys, the spindles and buoys on the reefs, and it was hardly possible for any mishap to occur on board.
I asked one of them to help me heave the log, as I had sent all my ship's company below to make up their sleep, except the second engineer. Captain Mayfield would not permit me to do anything about it. He called a couple of his seamen, and went aft to do it. He soon reported twelve knots, with the remark that he did not suppose the steamer to be capable of such a high rate of speed. He then begged me to turn in. He was perfectly familiar with the coast and the soundings. He sent two of his men on the topgallant forecastle to serve as lookouts, and declared that the mates should keep the wheel all the time. I was too sleepy to resist, and I turned in. I was soon fast asleep. The motion of the vessel was now quite steady, though she rose and fell upon the long seas.
It was two o'clock in the afternoon when I woke, for the new captain would not permit me to be called. Gopher had dined all on board but the crew, who had turned in before I did. Ben Bowman had waked himself, and gone to the engine-room to relieve Moses, at eleven. The attentive cook had a fresh dinner ready for me; and before I had finished it most of the other sleepers appeared.
I went to the pilot-house and looked at the log-slate. It had been faithfully kept during the absence of Washburn and myself. The last entry was American Shoal, with the time of passing it.
"Where are we now, Captain Mayfield?" I asked.
"Do you see that beacon with a big B on the vane?" he said, pointing to the beacon, which was within fifty yards of the steamer's bow. "That is the Eastern Sambo, about a dozen sea miles from Key West."
"You have been making time since I went to sleep."
"We have logged twelve knots every time," he replied. "We shall have a head wind after we have passed the Western Sambo, or soon after, and we must take in sail."
I directed Washburn to call all hands and take in sail, with the assistance at the sheets and halyards of the crew of the Olive.
"Where do you suppose the Islander is about this time?" I asked of Washburn, after he had taken in sail and squared the yards.
"She may be at the bottom," replied the mate.
Captain Mayfield asked me what I meant, and I told him all about the Islander.
"Her captain must have understood the navigation, or he would not have gone inside on such a night as last we had," added Captain Mayfield. "I don't think you will see the other steamer till you get to Key West, in little more than an hour."
"He may have gone to the bottom in the hurricane," I suggested.
"He could make a harbor in several places; at Tavernier, for instance. He may even have run through some opening to the other side of one of the Keys, and been entirely protected from the heavy sea. He had to be pretty well acquainted in there to do this. Do you know where he shipped his crew?"
"At Jacksonville, Florida," I replied.
"Then very likely he had one or more of the Conchs, or natives, who come from the Bahama Islands, on board. They are fishermen and wreckers, and know every inch of bottom all along the reefs. I think you will see the other steamer as soon as you get to Key West, for I have no doubt she has got there first, if she was going there at all. Western Sambo, three, five," continued Captain Mayfield. "Make a note of it, Mr. Dana."
After some further conversation with the captain, I was confident the Islander could not get by Key West without being seen by Cornwood, if the steamer in which he was to come to Cedar Keys had not been detained by the storm. Captain Mayfield did not believe the steamer with Jacksonville passengers on board had been detained, as she had an inside passage during all the worst of the hurricane. It was probable that the agent of Colonel Shepard had arrived in the fore-noon, if not in the morning.
Our pilot ran the Sylvania about two miles beyond the Western Sambo, and then headed the vessel to the north-west. He asked me the draught of the Sylvania, and I gave it to him as nine feet, which was her depth in the water when her coal-bunkers were full of anthracite coal. The course was varied considerably to avoid shoal places and reefs; but Captain Mayfield gave me the sailing directions as we went along, and I compared them with those in the Coast Pilot. All the passengers had come on deck when it was announced that we were close in to Key West. Colonel Shepard was very anxious about the Islander.
The city of Key West is located on the western end of an island of the same name. Near it is Fort Taylor, a vast structure built on an artificial island, and connected with Key West by a long bridge. On a hill is Whitehead Light, and on the north side of the island are several observatories. The town, consisting mostly of cottages, is near these towers.
When we were off Fort Taylor, we had a full view of the harbor, but the Islander was not to be seen.
"There she goes!" exclaimed Washburn, pointing to the north-west.
She carried no sail; but when I looked through the glass I made out her rig, though she was four miles away.
CHAPTER XV.
A PARTIAL SOLUTION OF THE MYSTERY.
"What does Captain Blastblow mean? Does he mean to run away with the Islander?" demanded Colonel Shepard, when he realized that his steam-yacht was again trying to elude him.
"He must have seen the Sylvania," I replied, very much perplexed by the conduct of the captain of the Islander. "If he stopped at Key West at all, he must have seen us before he started."
"Is it possible to overtake her, Captain Alick?" asked Colonel Shepard, nervously.
"As the case now stands, Captain Blastblow is running away from us. He has some object in view which we cannot comprehend. I have no doubt we can overtake her, for she can't run in behind any keys, or dodge into any unfamiliar channels."
"But I ought not to ask you to pursue her any farther," continued the owner of the runaway steam-yacht. "I know your party wish to stop here, and I will not compel them to go any farther."
"I think we can see all we want to of Key West from the deck," interposed my father. "At any rate, if we wish to spend any time in Key West, it will be easy enough to come back here, for we have the whole summer before us, and the winter, too, if the summer is not long enough."
"I have no desire to stop here, and Margie would much rather continue with her friend, Miss Edith, than stop at this place," added Mr. Tiffany. "We are all quite interested in solving the problem of the intentions of the captain of the Islander."
"We will leave the whole matter to Alick; and whatever he does we will not complain," said my father.
"You are very considerate and kind, gentlemen, and I am under very great obligations to you and to Captain Alick for all the favors you have extended to me," replied the colonel.
"If it is left to me we will chase the Islander," I added. "But we must land our shipwrecked passengers here, and that will take a little time; and I want a pilot, for I don't like to lose any time in those shoal waters and crooked channels."
"Get your boats all ready, Captain Alick, and it won't take five minutes to land me and my men, and I will put your steamer where you can get a pilot in two minutes," interposed Captain Mayfield. "I have no doubt we should have all perished if you had not come to the wreck at no small peril to your vessel; and I hope the time will come when I shall have a chance to do something for you."
"Oh, that's all right," I replied. "I hope I never shall be in a situation to need such help as we had a chance to give you, Captain Mayfield."
I gave the order to clear away the boats, the davits were swung out, and the falls manned ready to drop them into the water without a moment's delay. The ship's company of the Olive shook hands with me, and thanked me very warmly for what the Sylvania had done for them. I was sorry to part with them so hastily, but the anxiety of the colonel seemed to admit of no other course. Captain Mayfield ran the steamer within a hundred yards of the shore by Tift's observatory. He rang to back her, and as soon as she had lost her headway, the two boats were dropped into the water, with two hands in each. They were then brought up to the gangway steps, which had been rigged out for the use of the ladies, who were all ready to embark.
We assisted Mrs. Mayfield and her daughter into the stern-sheets of one, and the captain joined them. The boat shoved off, when the mate and four of the sailors had stowed themselves away. The captain and the ladies waved their adieus as soon as Dyer and Hop began to pull. Before the port boat was off the second mate and the rest of the seamen had piled into the starboard boat, and both were off at nearly the same time.
I saw the seamen in both boats assisting the oarsmen, and the boats went through the water at a lively rate. Not more than two minutes had elapsed before the party were all on shore. Several men hastened up to Captain Mayfield, and I saw him select one of them, who immediately jumped into the port boat. It was hardly a minute more before the boats were under the falls. They were rapidly hoisted up, and swung inboard. The men leaped out of them, and Washburn rang to back the boat into deeper water. The men secured the boats, and the person sent off went into the pilot-house.
I looked at the clock and found we had lost less than ten minutes in landing the wrecked party, during which time the Islander had made over a mile. Moses Brickland had been attending to the furnaces while the boats were absent with the two firemen, and I was sure that he had a good head of steam on. The pilot was a swarthy person, with long black hair, and I had no doubt he was a Conch, as Captain Mayfield had described them to me. He was well dressed in seaman's blue clothes. I rather liked the looks of the man, and began to feel confidence in him as soon as I saw him.
"I am glad to see you, Mr. Pilot," I said, giving him my hand, when I went into the pilot-house after assuring myself that the boats were well secured.
"Thank you, Captain Alick," he replied with a smile.
"As you seem to know my name, it is no more than fair that I should know yours," I replied, as good-naturedly as he had spoken.
"I am called Captain Cayo, but my name is Cazador, which is the Spanish for 'Hunter.' But it don't make much difference what you call me. Cayo is Spanish for Key, and people here are so used to the word that they have given it me for a name. Where are you bound, Captain Alick?"
"To New Orleans, or rather we are bound to overhaul the little steamer, just like this one, which left here not more than half an hour before we arrived," I replied.
"I should have thought it was the same steamer if I had seen both of them at the same time," replied Captain Cayo, who had taken the wheel when he first came into the pilot-house, for he had been engaged to take the Sylvania through the North-West Channel, as it is called. "You wish to overhaul the Islander, do you?"
"Her owner is on board of this steamer, and he is very anxious to get on board of her," I answered.
"Very well; if the Sylvania has the speed we will overhaul her, Captain Alick," added the pilot.
"Where did you learn my name, Captain Cayo, for you called me by it before any one had used it on board; and those who came off in the boat with you invariably call me Captain Garningham?" I inquired, taking up one of the points which had attracted my attention from the first.
"I heard you called so by a gentleman who arrived here by the morning steamer from Cedar Keys."
"Who was the gentleman?" I asked, with interest.
"I don't remember his name, if I heard it at all."
"What time did the Islander get to Key West?"
"Not more than two hours before the Sylvania. I went on board of her to offer my services as pilot. The captain did not want a pilot, for he had a Conch on board who used to live in the city."
"Then this man is now piloting the Islander through this channel?"
"I suppose he is; but I don't think he is a pilot, for he is taking the steamer a long way to the eastward of the bar-buoy. She went pretty near a shoal with only five feet of water on it. I shall make one sea-mile in going five compared with the course of the Islander."
"I am very glad to hear it. What sort of a looking-person was it that came in the morning-boat from Cedar Keys?" I asked.
The pilot described Cornwood as though he were a novelist. Of course I had no difficulty in supposing it was he. In order to get the most reliable intelligence from the pilot, I told him all about the abrupt departure of the Islander from Jacksonville without her owner and his family. I stated my belief that Captain Blastblow was avoiding us, and that he had put to sea as soon as he discovered the Sylvania headed in for Key West. I told him the sudden departure of the other steamer was a great mystery to her owner and all the rest of us.
"I am sure I don't know anything about the matter, Captain Alick. I don't believe the Islander intended to stop at the city, for the man from Cedar Keys——"
"His name is Cornwood," I interposed.
"Cornwood went off in a boat and hailed the Islander. She would not stop till he flourished a letter. I was out in my boat looking for any craft that wanted a pilot, and I was close aboard of her. When she stopped I climbed aboard on one side while Cornwood got aboard on the other side. Instead of delivering the letter to the captain, he said it was for a person supposed to be on board. The captain indulged in strong talk; but Cornwood made some statement I did not hear, which seemed to satisfy him. The steamer came to anchor just outside of Fort Taylor. When the captain told me he did not want a pilot, I left the steamer. As I pulled away, I saw that a sharp lookout was kept over the stern of the Islander, which I can understand now, if I could not then."
"You don't know whether or not Cornwood delivered any letter to the captain of the Islander?" I inquired, with deep interest.
"Very likely he did, but not while I was on board. I pulled up the harbor, and landed the other side of the Lazaretto. Before I reached the shore I saw Cornwood and a swellish-looking fellow rowing to the same landing-place. Cornwood was talking very earnestly to the swell, and continued to do so after they got ashore."
"What did the swell look like?" I asked, wondering who he could be, for I had seen all the crew of the Islander, and could remember no one that looked like a swell.
Captain Cayo gave a minute description of the person; but it would have applied as well to one swell as to another.
"Did you see anything more of Cornwood and this swell?" I asked, somewhat excited over the narrative, and hoping to get some clue to the conspiracy for running off the Islander.
"Cornwood and the young fellow took a seat on a bench near the landing-place, and talked for a full hour. Before they got through I had a sight of this steamer coming up by the West Sambo. I passed quite near them, on my way up the hill to the lighthouse, to see if I could make out your steamer. As I did so, I heard Cornwood call the other fellow Nick."
"Nick!" I exclaimed, looking at Washburn.
"That explains it all," added the mate.
"What does it explain?" asked the pilot, who seemed to be quite as much interested in the case as Washburn and myself were.
"It explains another story I have not told, and which I did not suppose had anything to do with this matter of the running off of the Islander."
I related the affair of the robbery of the messenger of the bank, giving all the details of the case, including the unexplained disappearance of Nick Boomsby. The case looked as plain as day to Washburn and myself. Nick had taken possession of the package of money, and concealed it somewhere under the counter; and doubtless there were holes and corners enough there where it could be put without its being seen by his father. He wanted to get out of Jacksonville as soon as possible after the robbery. He had applied to me, with his pathetic story about being compelled to sell whiskey, and wanted to be taken as a passenger in the Sylvania.
"Nick had the card written by Colonel Shepard, which he delivered the night before we sailed," said Washburn.
"I should like to know what was written on that card," I added.
"Probably it was nothing more than an intimation from the colonel that he should be ready to sail the next morning. He had not room enough on a card to go into the particulars," answered Washburn. "You saw him write the card, Alick."
"There was not more than a line or two on it, for it was done in half a minute, signature and all."
"Captain Blastblow had steam up in the morning, as directed," continued Washburn. "Nick observed the writing closely, and wrote a letter such as he wanted for use the next morning. Captain Blastblow is not to blame, unless it is for letting Nick deceive him."
The case looked plain enough now.