Dawn came upon the sea—and fog.
TheSadiewas somewhere off San Clemente, that desolate, rocky, almost unknown island. The dense fog hid everything from view.
Clem, who would be on duty until eight o’clock, was seated beside the pilot house, cutting off yellowtail heads to use as bait for jewfish. TheSadielay motionless on the oily waters, swinging listlessly to the swell of the channel. Up in the bows was a huddled, miserable figure—Tom Saunders, asleep at last.
That had been a terrible night for the shanghaied man.
Kept awake and at work, kept scrubbing, painting, untangling lines, oiling the engines, driven to the work and kept at it by boot and fist and rope’s end, Tom had finally given way.
When Clem took the deck, at four o’clock, the sight of Tom smote his heart. Yet he drove him relentlessly. An hour later the end had come.
Sobbing, praying, pleading, Tom had crept to him, begging for sleep, begging for release from the torture. Even then Clem had steeled himself, andhad renewed his driving, but not for long. He had not the heart.
Tom Saunders had been broken at last—had promised everything and anything, had wept and prayed anew. At six o’clock, Clem had told him to sleep, and he had dropped in a pitiable heap where he stood.
“It’s a mean job,” thought Clem, as he baited the huge hooks on his line. “But he’s had an hour’s rest now, so we’ll try him out. Besides, he can stand a lot more—and it’s necessary. Kill or cure!”
Accordingly, he awakened poor Tom by repeated sluices of water, thrust a rod into his hand, bade him angle for a jewfish, and baited his own line. Somewhat to Clem’s surprise, Tom said nothing whatever, and did not rebel; but he sat on the rail, shivering, and gazed miserably at the water.
A moment later, just as Clem was unreeling his line, he saw Tom start to his feet, and heard the buzz of the automatic drag.
“Got one?” he cried. Tom merely nodded.
A glance showed Clem that the jewfish was running out ahead of the launch, and he leaped to the engines.
“I’ll give her half speed!” he exclaimed swiftly. “Reel up as we get over him.”
He noted that the fog seemed to have thickened rather than diminished.
With theSadierunning slowly ahead, Clem regained the deck to find Tom reeling in his line, the stubby, powerful rod bent almost double. The jewfish, for all its great size, is not a wonderful fighter; none the less, it was a good ten minutes before Tom got the fish close to the surface.
Yet he seemed not a whit excited. He reeled mechanically; his hands were blue with cold; he seemed broken in spirit. Clem watched him with some anxiety, wondering if the hazing had been carried too far.
“Here!” he exclaimed suddenly, as the line came in. “Take this gaff, and bring him up, Tom! I’ll hold him at the surface!”
Clem thought he saw tears on the other’s cheeks.
The exchange was made. Tom took the gaff and stood on the rail, clinging to a stay, bending over the water. Clem, taking the rod, was astonished. The fish must be a four-hundred-pounder at least, he decided. Then, peering over the side as he forced the jewfish up, he saw the great oval mass below. The surface water broke into a mass of foam.
Tom lunged with the gaff—lunged again—missed both times. Then, with a muttered word of exasperation, he leaned far over and caught the fish squarely.
He did not lift quickly enough, however, to get the fish out of water. There was a surge and a swirl beneath, and a short cry broke from Tom.
“Give me a hand——”
Before Clem could move, he saw Tom, hanging grimly to the gaff, drawn out by the fish’s wide, circling sweep. In a flash, the dogged San Pedro boy had his hold broken, had lost his balance—and was overboard.
“By golly, he’s too cold and stiff to swim!” thought Clem swiftly. He lifted his voice in a ringing shout:
“Ed! Ed! On deck! Man overboard!”
With the words, he caught up the life preserver hanging at the rail and tossed it over the side. Then, his coat off, he leaped after it, in wild fear lest his own driving tyranny had been carried so far that Tom would have no strength left.
In that desperate fear, he came to the surface almost beside the struggling figure of Tom Saunders. A few yards away was floating the round life buoy. Catching Tom by the collar, Clemgained the preserver in a few strokes, and bobbed Tom up inside it.
“Get your arms over the sides—that’s right! Now take a turn of the line about your arms. Good!”
Satisfied that Tom was sure to float, Clem turned on his side and sent a glance around for theSadie. With a shock, he remembered that her engines were set at half speed.
She was gone in the fog!
Stilling the momentary panic that seized him, Clem lifted his voice in a shout. He knew that Ed Davis would be on deck by this time, but at sight of the swirls of fog, that hid the water ten feet away, his heart sank.
“How you makin’ it, Tom?”
“All right,” said the other mechanically. “I lost the fish, I guess.”
“I guess you did.” Clem chuckled. “Can you give a yell?”
Tom emitted a feeble cry, that betrayed his weakness more than words could have done. A wave broke over them, and Clem took his weight off the preserver, allowing it to float higher. It could not well sustain them both.
Also, there was a choppy sea running—the island current cutting up the long, easy ground swell. It was hard swimming, and the water was cold.
“What on earth’s the matter with Ed?” exclaimed Clem anxiously. “We ought to hear the horn——Ah! There it is! Thank goodness!”
Muffled, but unmistakable, the blast of theSadie’sfoghorn pierced its way to them. Clem shouted again and again. Ed was on the job!
“It don’t seem to be gettin’ much closer,” muttered Tom.
Clem listened. No—it was not growing closer. It was hard to tell from which direction the sound came, but certainly the launch was receding from them. Resting once more on the life preserver, Clem bellowed for all he was worth.
“Better quit yellin’,” mumbled Tom. “It’ll tire you out quicker’n any——”
The rest was lost in a splutter as a wave lapped over them. Clem again released the life buoy, which lifted Tom well above the water.
Ridding himself of his clothes, Clem swam more easily, but he felt the chill of the water keenly. Owing to the choppy back lash of the waves, it was impossible to float. He had to swim continually to hold himself up.
“Hang on to the cork, ye blamed fool!” said Tom.
“I will, if I need to. I’m all right.”
The horn was sounding no longer!
Clem knew that their situation was desperate in the extreme. Which way the island lay, no one could tell. They were in a spot reached only by an occasional fishing boat. The fog would not lift before noon. Unless Ed Davis found them by chance, they could not both last—the preserver would only keep one man up.
Clem found himself becoming weakened by that continual struggle.
How long he swam beside Tom, he never knew. It seemed like days. He swam now on his side, now on his back. Change position as he might, however, he could not get away from the choppy, short seas. The sound of the foghorn came to them no more, and Clem forbore to shout, knowing the effort useless unless Ed Davis came close by them.
“How are you, Tom?” he said, resting on the preserver. A wave broke over them. Clem hastily drew away, yet with an inward groan.
“All right,” responded Tom, lying nobly. “Catch on here.”
Clem smiled a little. The faintness of the other’s voice had told him all he wanted to know. Tom was incapable of any exertion.
“And I’m responsible for Tom’s condition,” was the thought that drove into Clem’s heart with paralyzing truth. Hecalled up his reserve strength and breasted the waves, but the effort wasted him alarmingly. His limbs were stiff, numbed. He prayed for theSadie, but she came not.
“Tom,” said Clem, as he turned, swimming beside the buoy and watching Tom’s white, stern-clenched face, “we’ve hazed you pretty hard this trip, but it was for your own good. Ed and I came to Pedro, and found——” A wave plunged over him. Clem fought it down, gasping.
“We found your dad ten years older than he was a month or two ago. Ma didn’t say much, but she was pretty hard hit—and it was your fault, Tom. You’ve been running with the wrong crowd, and because you’re a good deal above them in every way they’ve toadied to you and got you on the down grade to their level. Ed and I——”
Again a great quantity of green water curled over him. The crest swallowed him. Desperate, Clem lost his head, and flurried wildly, frantically, wasting precious strength. When he emerged, half strangled, his own danger frightened him into coolness.
“Grab hold o’ the buoy, you fool!” growled Tom weakly.
“Shut up!” gasped Clem. “Listen! I want you to understand why we acted as we did, Tom. Your drinking and loafing and general cussedness has darned near wrecked your——”
Once more a smother of water dragged him down. He fought against the wild impulse to grab the buoy, but he struggled up to find Tom’s hand on his arm.
“Git aboard here——”
“Quit!” snarled Clem, flinging back and breaking the other’s hold. He gazed at Tom with desperate, convulsed features. He knew he could not last long. His strength was going fast. “We can’t, both hang on there, you idiot! It—it won’t hold—more’n one—and——”
“Then I’ll drop!” And Tom tried to heave himself up and release the lashing about his arms. He failed, through very stiffness and weakness.
“No, you won’t—you go back home and—tell ma that—that——” Clem went under, fought frantically, felt the terrible weakness overpower him. Then he caught a breath of blessed air again. “So long—cut out—the booze——”
With a groan, Clem found his strength gone. He seemed to collapse utterly. He felt the water close over him, choking, strangling, smothering—and then he knew nothing more.
A moment afterward theSadiepoked her nose out of the fog, almost above Tom.