CHAPTER XXIII ADRIFT IN THE STORM
Alec could not see into the future, this time at least, and he went about the work of preparing the Rebecca with a merry heart. The ship looked very fine, indeed, as she lay at the captain's wharf, all spick and span, and proudly displaying her new coat of paint. She was considerably larger than the Bertha B. Her masts were stepped at a rakish angle. Her rigging was neat. Her lines were good. For a boat of her size she carried an unusual amount of sail. Her hold had been emptied of all movable tackle and her decks cleared before she had been hauled out for repairs. Nothing had yet been replaced. And in order that the party might have all the room possible, nothing was to be replaced until after the cruise. Even the anchor and the chains had been removed. Inside, the cabin was perfectly bare. But the woodwork had all been freshly painted or varnished, and the Rebecca needed only a few furnishings to make her very attractive, indeed.
While the shipper and Alec were making a hasty examination of the boat, a truck load of furnishings arrived from the shipper's home, and the two at once started to carry the things aboard. There were cushions, and bedding, and chairs, and rugs, and blankets, and wraps, and a host of other things to make the boat comfortable. And there were great ticks to be filled with straw for the men to sleep on in the hold, while Elsa and her mother occupied the cabin.
When all the things were aboard and the truck had gone away, Captain Rumford turned his attention to the ship's gear. He was too careful a sailor not to make sure that everything was right before he set sail. He found everything in good condition. Only the anchor and the anchor chain were missing. The chains had been laid away when the Rebecca was hauled out. It was neither easy nor convenient to get them now. The captain studied the matter for a moment. "About all we'll need an anchor for," he muttered to himself, "is to keep us from drifting at night. I'll just take along that little light anchor in the storeroom. We can bend an old cable on it and it will answer our purpose. If a storm should come up, we'll run into a harbor. Now I'll go see about that little anchor."
The captain grabbed an oyster truck and hurried to his storeroom to get it. A moment later he returned, trundling the anchor and an old hawser before him. Alec helped lift them aboard. Then, while the captain was bending on the hawser, Alec busied himself in the cabin, putting the things there in some sort of order.
Presently came a load of provisions. Alec carried to the storeroom bag after bag. It seemed to him he had brought enough stuff aboard to feed a ship's crew for a year. The provisions he stowed away in the cupboards in the cabin. When Alec was done, the captain joined him and inspected the cupboards.
"Looks to me as though we're ready to cast off the minute we get our crew aboard," he said. "She seems fit to contend with almost anything—especially hunger."
"I can't think of another thing we could wish for," said Alec.
"Unless it was some music," said the captain wistfully. "It never seemed right to me to go on a party like this without some music. I'd have given a lot if Elsa had learned to play the piano, but she just wouldn't. Hasn't a particle of love for music. Funny, isn't it, when I like it so much. She likes to dance, too. You'd think she'd have some liking for music, wouldn't you?"
Alec made no response. But when the shipper drove away in his car, Alec ran to the Osprey and quickly uncoupled his wireless outfit. "It won't be much," he said, "but it's all I can do for the captain. He can have music at night now, anyway. I'll try to surprise him."
He fastened his instruments in the cabin of the Rebecca, very much as he had had them in the Bertha B. With two sticks he made an aerial which he placed flat on the roof of the cabin. The sticks were fastened together like a Maltese cross, and around their ends Alec wrapped strand after strand of wire, bringing the end into the cabin through the tiny window just above his instruments. He made a ground by twisting his wire to a little length of chain, which he fastened over the side so that its end hung in the water. Then he tested his instruments and found they were in order. As far as Alec could see, everything was now in readiness for the cruise.
Doubly delightful to Alec was the little trip that began next morning because of the weeks of hard labor that had preceded it. Just as his work had palled on him because he had been unable to combine any amusement with it, so amusements pall when they are not interspersed with toil. Now Alec's appetite for pleasure was more than whetted. He was ravenous for enjoyment. And being so, he enjoyed everything. The sun that shone so bright seemed merry rather than hot to Alec. The winds that circled about the mastheads seemed to Alec as playful as squirrels frisking in a tree top. The waves seemed to laugh in glee as the wind drove them before it, showing their white teeth in gleaming smiles as they flashed in the sun. White teeth they were, too, that could rend as well as gleam in the sun. Well enough Alec knew that fact. Before many days he was to know it better still. But now he had no thought of care. He had put work aside. He was like a small boy on a lark. Usually rather staid and sober, now he kept the party laughing at his antics. And they were ready enough to laugh with him. For this was a real pleasure party. For the time being, care had been thrown to the winds.
But if the mere joy of being alive and free and with friends could make Alec happy, the fact that he was seeing new things and learning new things gave him added enjoyment. For never, for a single instant, did Alec forget to pick up bits of knowledge that came his way. For well nigh a year, now, he had lived on the waves. He had sailed the Delaware in sunshine and in storm, when the weather was blazing hot and when ice formed on the deck. And yet his knowledge of this great body of water was limited wholly to what he had seen in the narrow compass of the oyster-beds, or to what he had read. Now he was to see with his own eyes the wonders of the deep. For as yet Alec had hardly been out of sight of land, and he had never seen the ocean.
Alec would not have been himself had he not remembered to bring along a map. And it was the largest map of the Bay he could lay his hands on. He saw at a glance that in contour the Bay was roughly pear-shaped. On either shore little excrescences, like the warts and blemishes that come on real pears, stuck out here and there, to mar the perfect pear-shaped outline of the Bay. The largest of these was Egg Island Point, off which lay the light he knew so well. Miles farther up the coast the Rebecca passed Ben Davis Point. And still farther along stretched a wide cove, with the Cohansey River pouring into it, and a little, squat lighthouse standing on a point, to guide the mariner into the stream.
Other points of interest the party visited, too—little summer resorts, like Fortescue, and lighthouses, where they were welcomed in a way that left no doubt of their hosts' sincerity; for callers are few at a lighthouse, and usually they are welcomed accordingly.
In the evenings, the party ran slowly before the gentle night wind, or, anchoring far offshore to avoid mosquitoes, gave themselves up to friendly talk and laughter—all save the captain. For him there was but one nocturnal diversion; that was listening to the music with Alec's wireless.
Sometimes the men went ashore and searched in the salt holes in the marsh for crabs. Or all hands fished for them from the deck of the Rebecca lowering great chunks of white meat on strings, well weighted, and gently raising their catch to the surface when they felt a nibbling at the bait. Then came the fun of scooping the crabs with long-handled dip-nets. Astonishingly often they failed to net them, too, for the wary creatures, despite their seeming awkwardness, vanished the instant they came to the surface. Great, gray-green things they were, with savage-looking pincers that could crush a finger severely if they got hold of one. And although he had previously caught crabs, Alec could hardly accustom himself to their color, so long had he known only the cooked crab of inland restaurants, which had turned red in boiling.
Sometimes they fished for weakfish, using pieces of crab meat for bait. Beautiful, big fish they caught, too. And sometimes they got sea-bass and flounders. And as often as not, they pulled in the troublesome toadfish, which Alec came to detest as much as the sailors on the oyster-boats did.
Day followed day in unbroken pleasure. Now they were here, now there. When Alec told the shipper that he had never seen the ocean, the shipper said he would head for the sea at once. Alec could have a good look at it, and then the party must head for home. Playtime was about ended.
But it was one thing to say they would go to the sea and another thing to get there. The flood-tide held them back. The wind was hardly more than stirring. So fierce was the sun, so intense the heat on deck, that both Elsa and her mother retreated to the cabin. The captain sought what coolness he could find in the uncertain shade of a sail. Big Jim Hawley stood at the wheel, silent, imperturbable. Alec flung himself on the deck near him. From time to time Hawley studied the sky. Great cumulus clouds were forming near the horizon.
"We'll have a storm to-night," he said to Alec.
"The sooner the better," said Alec. "Anything to break this heat wave."
They rolled slowly on. The water gently heaved and the Rebecca swayed with it. There was barely wind enough to keep the sails from flapping.
"We'll never reach the Capes in daylight at this rate," said Hawley. "The days are getting much shorter."
"That's so," said Alec. "Yesterday was the twenty-first of August. It's just two months since the longest day and the days are shortening fast."
Slowly the Rebecca forged ahead. Even the cool breath of the water could scarcely make the sun's heat endurable. Under the fierce rays the smell of paint became almost overpowering. The tar on ropes and rigging almost melted and ran. The fleecy clouds along the horizon bulked larger and larger. Slowly they rose toward the zenith. Late afternoon came. The ship was still far from the Capes. Captain Rumford studied the clouds carefully.
"We'll pull in behind the breakwater when we get there, Jim," he said quietly. "I think that storm will be a rip snorter. We might as well be on the safe side."
They went on. Gradually the sun's rays grew feebler. Gusts of vapor were hurtling across the sky, curtaining the fiery beams. The sky turned a peculiar greenish-copper color. The thunder-heads mounted ever higher. Then the sun was shut from sight. It grew dusk. Darkness came, as sudden as the dropping of a curtain. Afar off, flashes of lightning rent the clouds. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. The wind died away. It grew calm as midnight. The Rebecca rolled idly, her sheets flapping. The men got into their oilskins.
"Better shorten sail," said the shipper.
They ran to the halyards. Down came the great canvases. Nimbly they fastened the reef-points and made all as snug as possible.
"Now let her blow," said the shipper. "The more wind, the faster we go. We'll reach the breakwater and heave to. I kind of wish we had a heavier anchor, though."
None too soon had the Rebecca shortened sail. Afar off an ominous rushing sound was heard. The wind began to come in short puffs. Flash after flash of lightning illumined the angry clouds. The roaring sound grew louder. It came on with the speed of an express-train. Over the waves swept a sheet of falling rain like a very wall of water. Alec closed the companionway and jammed on the hatch covers. In another moment the storm was upon them.
Over the waves the falling rain came hissing like steam. It fell in a torrent. In a second the deck of the Rebecca was running with water. The sails tightened and bellied as the wind came smack! against them. The Rebecca trembled all over, then bent to the blast and began to run through the water like a wild thing. Big Hawley stood at his wheel, as steady as a new mast. He handled the ship as though she were a toy.
"Some thunder-storm," he smiled at Alec. "It'll blow itself out in a little while. Nothing to worry about. It'll get us to the breakwater in jig time."
It did, too. Long before Alec had any idea where they were, Jim brought the Rebecca up into the wind, and with her sails close-hauled, drove her shoreward. The rain still fell heavily, but Alec could dimly make out the curving shore-line and across it, like the string to a bow, stretched a black streak that Alec knew must be the breakwater. The waves were dashing on it madly. But the wind now blew almost parallel with the long stone pile. The breakwater gave them no protection. Rather it was a menace. If the ship should drag her anchor and drift on it, her hull would be battered to pieces in no time. Surely this was no place to heave to in such a storm.
"We'll just beat up along the coast, Jim," said the shipper. "It's a windward shore. The storm will blow itself out pretty soon."
The big sailor threw his weight against the wheel. The ship heeled over in the wind. Something cracked like a rifle-shot. The wheel flew around, almost dropping Hawley to the deck. The rudder had broken.
"Overboard with the anchor!" called the shipper.
Hawley and Alec ran forward to execute the order. There was a splash and the anchor rope paid out fast. Hawley gave the ship sufficient line and went aft again to examine the steering-gear.
"Can't do anything with it," said the shipper. "The rudder itself is broken. We'll have to ride the storm out here, then get help."
He went forward and examined the anchor line. Then he looked long and steadily at the breakwater, which was all too close to please him.
"She's holding all right," he said. "We might as well eat while we wait for the storm to end."
They entered the cabin and stripped off their oilskins. "Any danger?" asked Mrs. Rumford, with anxious eyes.
"We're perfectly safe as long as our anchor doesn't drag. It's a little light, that's all. But it's holding well. I don't think there is any probability of harm."
Elsa and her mother got supper. From time to time the captain peered out of the cabin window. All seemed well. They sat down to eat. It was not a merry meal, as some of their meals had been, but the storm had not dulled their appetites and they ate with enjoyment. Elsa and Alec even joked a little. Hawley was silent from habit. Mrs. Rumford was a little apprehensive. The captain was too busy with his own thoughts to talk.
Suddenly the big sailor jumped to his feet. "Feels as though we are movin', Cap'n," he said. He pulled on his oilskins and stepped out in the rain. In a moment he came tearing back. "We're adrift," he bellowed down the companionway. "The anchor line has parted."
Neither the shipper nor Alec waited to don oilskins, but rushed out on deck at once. There could be no doubt about the situation. The Rebecca had swung around broadside to the wind and was wallowing in the waves. The anchor line dangled loosely at her bow. The situation was critical. The breakwater was not far away, though fortunately the wind did not now blow toward it. Plainly they were drifting abreast of it, gathering speed with every minute. And both wind and tide were driving them toward the open sea.
"If only we had put those dredges aboard," said the shipper, "we might hold ourselves yet. There isn't a thing on board we can put down to hold with. If only we don't go on that stone pile, we'll be all right. This storm can't last long, and somebody will pick us up, sure."
Driven by the wind, the tide was running like a mill-race, and the Rebecca was swept along at an unbelievable pace.
The shipper and Alec stepped into the cabin and pulled on their oilskins, then returned to the deck.
"We don't have even a boat-hook or a setting-pole," sighed the shipper. "I suppose they wouldn't be much use anyway, but a fellow could at least try to fend the ship off those rocks."
Fearful, he looked toward the breakwater. Little by little the Rebecca was drawing closer to it. At the same time she was rapidly driving past the great stone pile. Would she clear it or not? There was nothing to do but stand and wait. And the three sailors almost held their breath as they steadied themselves by the rigging and watched. Nearer the boat came to the rocks and nearer, and the end of the breakwater was still rods away.
"She's going to strike," said the shipper. "She'll crash in another minute. We'll have to lower the life-boat."
They ran aft toward the davits, then paused a single second to watch. A great wave was lifting the Rebecca. Up she rose high on the crest, and swept straight toward the breakwater.
"Get the women on deck quick," roared the shipper. "She's going to crash."
Alec sprang for the companionway. The ship gave a lurch, but there was no noise, no jar. An enormous wave, rushing against the breakwater, had rebounded and swept the ship clear. The tide hurled her forward. A moment later, by the narrowest of margins, the vessel skimmed across the end of the breakwater, and shot into the open water beyond. For the moment she was safe.
Straight toward the open sea she went, fast as wind and tide could drive her. The storm still continued. The rain had slackened, though it still fell. The wind yet blew with violence. With every moment and with every foot they drew offshore the waves ran higher. Now driving straight ahead, now swinging in the wind, now wallowing in the waves, and at times smashing stern first into the rolling sea, the Rebecca drove on before the storm.
"Make a flare," said the shipper grimly. "We've got to get help."
The big sailor set about executing his order, but Alec darted into the cabin. Swiftly he threw over his switch. Then, steadying his hand, he flashed the call, "SOS—SOS—SOS." Then he paused and listened.
Almost immediately came a reply. "I have your signal of distress. Who and where are you?"
"Schooner Rebecca," flashed back Alec. "Drifting out to sea between the Delaware Capes, just off Henlopen. Rudder broken, anchor lost. Who and where are you?"
"Steamer Lycoming. About thirty miles south of the Delaware Capes. Should reach you in less than two hours. Keep a flare burning."
Alec leaped from his instrument as though he were shot. "It's Roy," he cried. "It's Roy. The Lycoming is only thirty miles away. She'll reach us in less than two hours."
Again he turned to his instrument. Now he flashed out the Lycoming's call. "WNA—WNA—WNA de 3ADH—3ADH—3ADH," he flashed.
At once came the response. "3ADH—3ADH—3ADH de WNA—WNA—WNA. Have been trying to get you, Alec. Where are you?"
"On the Rebecca," flashed back Alec. "Just sent the SOS you answered."
"Thank God you've got a wireless!" came back the answer from Roy. "Don't worry. We'll find you sure. We've already shifted our course. We're heading straight for the Capes."
"Stand by while I tell the Captain, Roy," signalled Alec. Then he threw over his switch and darted out on deck.
"We're saved, Captain," he shouted through the storm. "The Lycoming is only thirty miles away and is heading straight for us. She will reach us in less than two hours."
Anxiously the three watchers peered into the dark. Aloft swung their lights. In a dish-pan on the deck a flare was burning. From time to time Hawley fed oil-soaked pieces of wood to the flames. The rain had ceased to fall. The wind still blew fitfully, but with lessened violence. The night was as dark as a tunnel. Up and down, up and down, the oyster-boat now rose and fell on the great swells of the Atlantic. At last Alec was within sight of the ocean. But it was little he saw of it or cared to see of it.
What he was watching for was a light. Minute after minute the silent watchers strained their eyes into the darkness. Time passed. A half hour went by. An hour elapsed. Then far off in the dark something glowed faintly. Minute by minute the light grew brighter. It came closer.
Alec darted into the cabin. He flashed the Lycoming's call and got an answer. "We can see the lights of a big steamer," he signalled. "Can you see us yet? We are burning a flare on deck and our lights are burning aloft."
"We see you plainly. Will reach you in a few minutes."
Alec shut off his power. "Come on deck," he said to Elsa.
She followed him up the companionway. Alec tore off his coat and wrapped it around her. Then he took her hand and led her forward.
"Look," he said. "You may never see another sight like this."
"I never want to," said Elsa.
"That is the Lycoming," said Alec. "Didn't I tell you that Roy was a prince? We shall owe our lives to him. He's a wonderful wireless man."
"Will you ever learn any sense?" said Elsa. "How would Roy or his captain have known that we were here if we hadn't had a good wireless man on board the Rebecca?"
Now the Lycoming was close at hand. Suddenly her search-light blazed forth and rested fairly on the little schooner. Slowly the big steamer drew near. Then she stopped. Presently a boat shot into the circle of light. Lusty sailors were pulling at the oars. A line trailed behind. The boat passed slowly to leeward of the helpless oyster-boat, then drew close. A sailor rose to his feet and cast a little line. Swiftly it came hissing through the air. Hawley grasped it before it touched the deck. Hand over hand he pulled the line aboard. The light line was followed by a huge hawser. Eagerly the line was hauled aboard. Big Hawley made it fast. The ship's boat disappeared into the darkness. The sound of tackle-blocks soon followed. Slowly the Lycoming moved ahead. The hawser tightened. The Rebecca swung gently round, then slowly moved ahead. In another moment she was moving steadily through the water.