For the next two months, little of adventurous importance occurred. The Miami disposed of several more dangerous derelicts in the gulf of Mexico. She assisted a small steamer belonging to the Public Health Service of Key West, which had anchored in an exposed position, and towed her to safe moorings. She rescued two men in a small motor boat, out of sight of land, who had drifted after the machinery had broken down. In addition to this, she floated and towed to harbor three sailing-vessels which had struck on the treacherous reefs of the waters of the Florida Keys. The work was constant, and the Coast Guard cutter was on the job without ceasing, but there was little to stir the complement to their utmost.
Then came trouble. From the wireless station,—that continuous recorder of difficulty and disaster, came word that a Norwegian steamer was ashore on Twisted Cay, and asking for immediate assistance against native wreckers. The Miami immediately started for the scene of the disaster, and about noon of the next day arrived in sight of the vessel.
"They've been having trouble of some sort," said Eric, as the cutter steamed up to the scene of the wreck. "And look at the nerve of them; they don't seem to pay any attention to us!"
The boats' crews were ordered out, and Eric, as before, was in the smaller craft. The two boats pulled to the side of the vessel, and the boy accompanied the second lieutenant on board. The steamer was lying with her head to the southward and westward, with a decided list to starboard. Twenty or thirty small sailing-boats were clustered round her, like ants round a piece of sugar. What was still more daring, while most of the wreckers had left the stranded steamer on the arrival of the cutter, others actually stayed on board. They were an evil-looking lot, and heavily armed.
The scene on board was a striking one. The first thing noticed by Eric was the presence of two men propped up against the starboard rail, pale and roughly bandaged.
"Where's the captain?" was the lieutenant's first question.
"I'm Captain Jorgsen," was the reply, as a finely built, ruddy middle-aged man advanced. "Glad to see you on board."
"Good morning, Captain. You reported by wireless having trouble with these wreckers," the Coast Guard officer remarked; "are these men of yours badly hurt?"
"One of them is," the captain answered. "Have you a doctor in your party?"
"We've one aboard. Mr. Swift," he continued, turning to Eric, "will you please take the boat and bring Dr. Fuhrman here?"