CHAPTER VI OVERBOARD IN THE DARK
Down, down, down into the chilling water went Alec. So confused was he that he did not know which way was down and which was up. He opened his eyes but the muddy water was inky black and he could see nothing. So sudden and unexpected had been the attack that he had not had time even to catch his breath before he sank beneath the water. Immediately he began to suffer for air.
Instinctively Alec struck out, but after a few strokes he stopped swimming. He was recovering his wits rapidly, and he realized that it was worse than useless to try to swim until he knew in which direction he was going. He might swim under a scow or boat and be drowned. It was fortunate indeed that Alec ceased swimming when he did, for the tide and his own efforts were taking him directly under a big oyster-float. The instant he stopped swimming, the lifting force of the water shot him upward. It was high time he got his head above water, for his lungs seemed about to burst. He knew he could not hold his breath much longer.
With quick wit he raised his hands above his head the instant he felt himself rising. And it was well he did so. Hardly had he lifted them before he crashed into one of the great timbers of the oyster-float. The impact almost broke his fingers; and although his hands lessened the force of the blow, nevertheless he bumped his head so hard that for an instant he was dazed. His extended hands alone had saved him from being knocked senseless and drowned. For a second he lost control of himself and swallowed some water. Sudden terror clutched his heart. He realized that in another moment he might drown. Wildly, frantically, he clawed at the timber above him. One hand met solid wood wherever it moved. But the other shot upward into the free air. With his last remaining ounce of strength Alec dragged himself from under the log that formed the edge of the float and pulled himself up until his nose was above water.
Shuddering, gasping, gulping in both air and water, Alec clung to the log desperately. Panic took possession of him. He tried to cry out, but succeeded only in swallowing more water. Wildly he clutched the float and tried to draw himself up on it; but the great round log, slippery with mud and slime, gave him not the slightest finger hold. Almost exhausted and nearly paralyzed with cold, he slipped back into the water. But his hands still rested on the log.
Then he took a grip on himself and choked back the wave of fear that was chilling his heart worse than the cold water was numbing his muscles. He let his body sink in the flood until only his nose and eyes were above water; and clinging to the log, he remained perfectly still for a moment to recruit his waning strength. Meantime his mind and his eyes were both busy.
By this time his eyes were free from water and accustomed to the darkness. He could see fairly well. A hasty glance showed him a long line of floats, oyster-boats, scows, and similar craft moored parallel with the shore. He was in the smooth water between float and shore and only a few yards distant from solid ground. With that realization a wave of courage swept over Alec that seemed almost to warm him. For now he knew he should get out all right. He had only to swim the little distance between float and shore and he was safe.
Boldly he struck out, and a few strokes carried him close to the bank. His foot touched bottom. He swam another stroke or two and put his feet down to walk ashore. Then he gave a cry of terror as he felt himself sinking down, down, down into the terrible, black, clinging mud. He tried to raise his foot, but only sank the deeper. Already he was in mud above his knees, and his nose was frightfully close to the surface of the water. Through his head flashed the memory of the oyster stakes in the muddy bottom of the Bay—six feet deep in the mud, so Sailor Bishop had told him, and held so tight that they could not be pulled out. A fresh wave of fear swept over him.
But he fought desperately to keep his wits. He realized that his broad shoes would not go down into the mud like the sharpened ends of poles. He stood perfectly still to see whether or not he was still sinking deeper. When he realized that he was not, he could have shouted for joy. The tide was running out, and the water would not come up over his head, even if the mud did hold him prisoner for a time. But soon he realized that cold could kill him quite as effectively as water. For now that the fear of drowning had left him, he became conscious of the fact that he was shaking all over and that his teeth were chattering terribly. He must get out and get out at once. But how should he get out? He dared not move, lest he sink deeper into the mud. And there did not appear to be a soul anywhere around. There were no lights near. It was supper time, and everybody had gone home for the night.
Suddenly he heard the steady put-put-put of a motor-boat coming up the river. The sound drew near.
"Help! Help! Help!" cried Alec at the top of his voice.
But the boat continued to chug steadily upstream, its rhythmic put-put-put-put drowning out all sound of Alec's feeble cries. Again and again Alec called for help, but the boat went steadily on. It passed the craft moored below Alec. It came abreast of the oyster-float. Still Alec's cries were unheard. As the boat came directly opposite him, Alec gathered his remaining strength for a last effort and fairly screamed, "Help! Help! Help!"
There was a sudden commotion on the motor-boat. The steersman rose to his feet and peered into the darkness. A second man shut off the engine.
"Hello!" hailed a voice from the boat. "Where are you?"
"Back of the oyster-float near shore," cried Alec. "I'm stuck in the mud."
"Stand still and we'll get you in a minute," came the quick response.
"Put-put-put," went the little motor-boat again, and in another moment it was alongside the float. A sailor leaped from the boat, with a coil of rope in his hand. He splashed his way across the float, calling, "Where are you?"
"Right here," called Alec, raising his arms above the water and waving them in air.
"Catch this rope," answered the sailor, and a line came whizzing straight into Alec's upraised arms.
"I've got it," said Alec.
"Tie it under your arms and hold fast."
Alec's hands shook so that he could hardly knot the rope, but finally he had it fast about his chest. He grasped the rope at arms' length. "All right," he cried.
"Heave ho!" sang the voice on the float. "Here you come, my hearty." And the rope tightened.
Alec pulled on the rope as hard as he could, and worked his feet loose. The instant he was free from the mud, he went skimming through the water to the side of the float, where strong arms lifted him up.
"You didn't have much to go on," said the sailor. "It's a darned good thing for you that the tide was running out instead of in. Who are you, and how'd you come to get in the water? Been drinking?"
"My name's Alec Cunningham, and I belong on the Bertha B. Somebody threw me overboard." Alec's teeth were chattering so that he couldn't say another word.
"Drunk as a fool," said the sailor. "Bagley don't have any hand named Cunningham. Wish I knowed where he belonged."
"I'm not drunk," said Alec, shivering more violently than before, "and I do belong on the Bertha B. Just went to work this morning."
"Maybe he ain't drunk," said the steersman on the boat, as they stepped aboard. "Maybe he does belong on her. We'll go see. We got to take him somewhere darned quick or he'll freeze to death."
The motor-boat was headed down-stream and in a few minutes came alongside the Bertha B. "Hello, Bagley!" called the steersman.
"Hello!" cried the skipper on the Bertha B, coming out on deck.
"Do you know a young fellow named Cunningham? Says he belongs to your crew."
"Sure I do. What's happened to him?"
"We got him here. Just fished him out of the river."
"The deuce you did! Get him in here quick before he freezes."
Alec was helped aboard the Bertha B. He tried to thank the men who had rescued him.
"Shut up and git in there by the fire," shouted Captain Bagley.
Alec hustled into the cabin. In all his life fire had never felt so good.
"Boys," said Captain Bagley, "you saved a darned nice kid. How'd he git in the water?"
"Says somebody throwed him in. Don't look as though he was drunk, though."
"No. He ain't drunk. And if he says somebody throwed him in, why, somebody did. I'll find out about this. Good night." Captain Bagley turned toward his cabin. "The old rip!" he muttered. "I knowed he was a bad actor, but I never dreamed he'd attempt murder."
Then the captain was inside the cabin. "Strip them clothes off, quick!" he called to Alec. Then turning to the engineer, he said, "What you standing there for, Joe? Git the coffee-pot on and stir up the fire."
Captain Bagley seemed equal to any emergency. Before you could bat an eye he had pulled the wet garments from Alec's shivering form and was rubbing him with a rough towel. He rubbed until Alec's skin was aglow. Then he dived into his bunk and from his locker drew out a clean suit of heavy woolen underwear.
"Warm these," he said, handing the garments to Joe, while he himself fell to rubbing and slapping Alec with his hands.
"Now git into them duds quick," he ordered, as Joe passed Alec the underclothes, which he had been holding before the fire.
As Alec pulled on the warm clothes, the captain said, "Git this inside you," and he poured out a cup of black coffee that was smoking hot.
Alec downed the draught, though it almost burned his mouth. The captain poured another cup.
"Drink it," he said. Again he turned to the engineer. "See if Dick's got any lemons in his cupboard."
The engineer found some. "Give 'em to me," said the captain. In a second he had cut them in half and was squeezing out the juice. "Put a quart of water over the open fire, Joe," he said.
Joe got the water. Captain Bagley poured the lemon juice into it, and added some sugar. In no time the mixture was steaming.
"Drink it," said the captain.
"I'm full," said Alec. "I just had two cups of hot coffee."
"Shut up and drink it," said the captain.
As Alec took the proffered draught and began to sip it, the captain roared, "Drink it!" And Alec downed the whole quart.
"Now stand just as close to the fire as you can. Joe, put on more draft. Can't you get her any hotter?"
The stove was already cherry red, but that did not satisfy the energetic skipper. Joe poked up the fire and Alec got as close to the stove as he could. Soon he began to perspire profusely.
"Good!" said the oyster skipper, as he saw the beads of sweat gather and run down Alec's face. "Now, you young rascal, tell us how all this happened."
Briefly Alec related the story of his adventure.
"Who done it?" demanded Captain Bagley.
"I—I—I wouldn't like to say," said Alec, "because I am not absolutely certain. I'd hate to accuse any man of attempting to commit murder unless I was sure. I never really saw the man because it was so dark."
"Ain't you got any idea who it was?"
"All I've got to go on is the voice. I could hear that in the dark as well as in the light."
"Had you heard it before?"
"Yes, sir. It sounded very much like the voice of the man you discharged."
"I reckon you are right, youngster. I reckon you are right. I only wish you was a little more certain about it. He ought to go to prison. But I'd like to have sufficient evidence to make a case before I have him arrested. Maybe I can find somebody who seen him in that neighborhood. I'll scout around a bit and see what I can pick up."
"I wouldn't want him imprisoned," said Alec. "He didn't do me any harm, even if he did try to."
"We don't know yet whether he did you any harm or not, and anyhow, that's got nothing to do with it. We can't afford to have that sort of cattle running at large."
Captain Bagley sat down and pondered over the matter for some time. "How do you feel?" he asked suddenly.
"Pretty good," said Alec, "though my head aches something fierce. I reckon it's from the bump I got."
"Well, that settles it. You don't ketch no oysters to-morrow."
"What do you mean?" asked Alec.
"I mean that you are not going out to the oyster grounds."
"Indeed I am," said Alec. "I'd be a nice sort of a pill to lay off when you're so short handed, just because I got a ducking."
"Don't you give me any back talk," said the skipper, "or I'll throw you overboard again. I know a lot more about falling into cold water than you do. You may have a high fever by morning. And anyway, it's going to be a darned nasty day. There's a storm brewin', and you'd more than likely get sick. Then I would be up against it, wouldn't I, with only three hands to work two dredges. I've got to have men I can depend upon."
"You can depend upon me," protested Alec. "I'll work even if I am sick. Won't you let me go, please? I just can't afford to lose a day. I need the money so bad, sir."
"What for? You got a place to sleep and plenty to eat. Why do you need money so bad?"
Alec turned his face away from the captain. "It's some bills I owe at home," he said. There were tears in his voice, though he kept them out of his eyes, and the captain forbore to question him.
"All right, lad," he said, in a tone of wonderful tenderness, "you shall have your day's work. But you will have to do it ashore. I'll get one of Zipp's men to help me and you can help Zipp."
"Who's Zipp, and what does he do?"
"Oh! That's Frank Jordan, the foreman of the scow gang. Zipp's his nickname. He handles the oysters after we put them on the float. Now you just stay by the fire and sweat, while I go to the office and talk to the captain."
Captain Bagley let himself into the office with his key, turned up the lights, and in a moment was talking to Captain Rumford over the telephone.
"Sure," said the boss, when Captain Bagley had told him of Alec's mishap and his plan for an exchange of men. "I'll call up Zipp right away, and one of his men will be on hand in the morning. Leave the kid in the office if you get away before Zipp gets there. We'll take good care of him."