CHAPTER XII TOO-WHOO-OO! IS THE WORD
In that last desperate moment Tom Halstead employed the trick he had hesitated to use.
He raised one of his feet, kicking smartly at the left knee-cap of his assailant.
With a groan, Giddings weakened his hold, for the pain following the kick was intense.
Throwing both his arms tightly around the young man, Halstead held on, drawing himself back to the deck as Giddings fell back.
"You're not going to fool me that way!" snarled the young drug maniac. He made another spring, trying to forget the pain in his knee.
But Halstead had regained his footing fully. Now, he dodged, then closed in, tripping Giddings and throwing him heavily to the deck.
"What's this? What's this going on?" demanded Joseph Baldwin, running back along the port side, followed by Mr. Ross and Dr. Gray.
Halstead was now on top of his assailant, and, though Giddings still tried to fight with fury, his strength was deserting him.
"One of you hold him," urged Captain Tom, "and I'll get up and explain."
"Did he attack you?" insisted Mr. Baldwin.
"Well, rather," grunted Halstead.
"Let him up. He won't dare attack you again, with so many about."
"No; but he may try to jump overboard," retorted Halstead. "Mr. Giddings has another drug streak on him. He's not responsible for what he does."
"I guess that's right," nodded Dr. Gray. "Baldwin, you and Mr. Ross hold him, while the captain gets up and tells us what has happened."
The young skipper quickly explained, producing the vial he had snatched from the young bank president.
"That's all the morphine I have with me," remarked Dr. Gray. "I'll make sure of keeping that, hereafter, where no one but myself can find it. Mr. Baldwin, you'd better get the young man below. Use force, if you find it necessary."
They accomplished this without having attracted the attention of any of the sailors or stewards. Mr. Giddings was then unceremoniously thrust into his stateroom, and the door locked, though this was not until the physician had searched the young man, removing his pocket knife and also the tool that the drug victim had used in forcing the lock of the medicine case.
"I did what I thought was right," Halstead explained.
"And I'm mighty glad you saw him, and acted so promptly," replied the physician.
Through the rest of the night the physician had a battle with his patient, working hard to keep a more pronounced streak of mania from coming on. It is to such fearful torments that "hop-fiends" and morphine users are always exposed in the end.
At midnight Dick Davis again went on the bridge, beginning his eight hours' watch. Though Halstead had the utmost faith in the skill and judgment of his friend, he, also, remained up until nearly four o'clock in the morning. Then he turned to leave the bridge.
"I'm going to my cabin now, Mr. Davis, to turn in on my sofa for a while. If I am needed for anything at all, don't hesitate to call me instantly."
"Aye, aye, Captain," Dick replied.
Barely two hours had the young skipper slept when the sharp, jarring tones of the vibrating electric bell from the bridge rang over his head. Tom was up in an instant, pulling on his shoes. As he reached for his deck ulster and cap there came from overhead a note that told him at once why he was wanted.
Too-whoo-oo-oo!
"Fog!" gasped the young yacht captain. "Of all the confounded luck!"
With his ulster over his arm he threw open the door of his cabin, making for the bridge steps.
The mist was yet light and curling as Captain Halstead reached the open. Second Officer Dick Davis met him at the head of the steps.
"How long has this been coming on?" demanded Halstead.
"The first little puffs rolled in half an hour ago," replied Dick. "You see, I've put in closer to the enemy. We're still well in sight, or I'd have called you earlier."
The motor yacht was now running along abreast of the "Victor," and less than three hundred yards distant. The steam yacht's lights were in plain sight, save when occasional puffs of fog obscured them briefly.
Tom groaned with excitement.
"This is going to get heavier," he muttered.
"Yes, sir," nodded Davis. "Still, I didn't believe it necessary to call you until I had to use the whistle."
Too-whoo-oo-oo! sounded the auto fog-horn, controlled by the sailor on watch in the pilot-house with the quartermaster.
"You did right, Mr. Davis," the young skipper nodded. "But we're going to be up against it in half an hour. Where's your extra man of the watch?"
Davis blew a thrilling blast on his mate's whistle. In answer the third sailor of the watch came running to the bridge steps.
"My man," called down Halstead, "go at once to Mr. Baldwin's stateroom door, and tell him, with my compliments, that I believe he'd better come to the bridge at once."
Even with so imperative a summons as this, five or six minutes passed before the owner appeared on the scene.
"Good heavens, Captain!" gasped Joseph Baldwin. "And this white curtain is thickening all the time, isn't it?"
"The fog is beginning to roll in fast, now, sir. Mr. Davis, alter the course so as to bring us a hundred yards closer to the 'Victor.' We've got to keep her in sight to the last moment."
"We've got to keep that other boat in sight all the time," retorted Mr. Baldwin.
"As close as we can go without running her down," Halstead answered. "We've the rules of the sea to obey, sir, at any cost."
"Go and call Mr. Jephson here," shouted down Mr. Baldwin, to the sailor, who was still standing by at the port rail.
In another five minutes the representative of the United States district attorney at San Francisco was beside them on the bridge.
Dick Davis had now manœuvred the "Panther" in within one hundred and fifty yards of the "Victor." Closer than that Tom Halstead did not dare to go. Even this he considered almost too little sea-way.
"May the furies consume the luck!" growled the man of the law. "Yet, of course, we might have looked for this! It's bound to happen on this coast. A genuine, four-ply, real old 'Frisco fog reaching out to encompass us and let those blackguards yonder get away!"
Aboard the other yacht few signs of human life showed. One figure, wrapped in a great coat and topped by a sou'wester, huddled in the bow. That was the bow watch of the "Victor." As the light of coming morning began to filter through the increasing fog, it was possible, now and then, to make out a figure in the steam yacht's wheel house. A watch officer tramped the bridge. No other figures appeared. Once the steam yacht's watch officer looked directly over at his foes, and a cunning grin illumined his face.
"That's a great face to show above the hangman's noose!" bellowed Mr. Jephson, angrily, through the megaphone that he snatched up.
Captain Tom suddenly darted from the bridge, running to his cabin. When he came back he carried a pair of revolvers, one of which he handed to Dick Davis.
"Mr. Jephson, the fellows on that craft may open fire on us, at any moment, hoping to make us drop back into the fog. If they do, we'd better shoot back, eh, sir?"
"If they open fire on us," replied the assistant district attorney, promptly, "I order Mr. Davis and yourself to return it."
To make matters more emphatic, Mr. Jephson passed the word to have his two deputy marshals aroused at once and ordered to the deck.
Still, though the day broadened, the fog rolled in so thick and heavy that the steam yacht, nearby though it was, became more and more obscured.
Both yachts sounded their fog-horns simultaneously just as a final big, thick, white blanket of mist rolled in and shut them out of each other's view.
"Done! Beaten out!" groaned Mr. Jephson, savagely. "It's only a question of minutes, now, when we shall have lost all trail of that craft on this hidden waste of water!"
"Only a question of minutes?" repeated Tom Halstead, grimly. "Is it?"