Bert Wilson, Marathon Winner

by J. W. Duffield

Discussion of this sort lasted until the lunch bell rang, when there was a wild dive to the tables, all disputes forgotten.

After lunch, when they returned on deck, they were surprised at the appearance of the ocean. The wind, which before they went below had been blowing in fitful gusts, had now settled down to a steady gale that was increasing in violence with every hour that passed. The sea was rising rapidly, and already was dotted here and there with whitecaps. The sun had entirely disappeared, and the sky was a dull gray color. Clouds scudded across it with terrific speed, giving an indication of the force of the wind back of them, and as the boys gazed across the tumbling waves they every one felt a thrill of something very much like apprehension.

There is something very terrifying and awe-compelling about a storm at sea, especially to those not used to it. At such time a ship seems a very small thing in the great expanse of tumbling billows and shrieking wind, and it seems almost impossible that anything constructed by man can withstand Nature’s fury.

Soon the storm became so wild that most of the passengers retired below, and many of them experienced sea-sickness for the first time on the voyage, as the ship was now pitching and rolling wildly. Bert, Dick and Tom, however, stayed on deck, and felt that nothing could hire them to go down. This was an experience such as they might not have again in many a year, and they felt inclined to make the most of it.

They stayed on deck until supper time, and then went below. Several athletes were absent from the tables, and of those who were there many ate very sparingly. Not one would admit that this was due to sea-sickness, however, and indeed, there was less of this than might naturally have been expected.

They were all in such fine physical condition that they were less affected by such an experience than the average passenger, and there were few of them who were actually “down and out.”

The storm lasted two days, but on the morning of the third day had practically blown itself out. When the three comrades went up on deck the sun was shining gloriously, but the ocean was still very rough. In a few hours it had subsided noticeably, but the great billows still ran fifteen or twenty feet high. It was a wonderful sight, and one to be remembered for a lifetime. The boys gazed spellbound, and felt they would have been contented to do nothing all day but drink in the inspiring scene.

Shortly after they got on deck the lookout cried, “Ship ho!” and the boys followed the direction of his pointing finger. At first they could make out nothing, but in a few minutes they glimpsed a vessel lifted up on the crest of a monster wave, and about a mile from their course.

As they drew nearer it became evident that the vessel was a partial or entire wreck. She had been a three-masted schooner, as they could tell from the stumps of the masts projecting from her deck, but they had all gone by the board.

One was still fastened to the ship by a mass of tangled rigging, and every once in a while would be washed against the side with a crash. The vessel was low in the water, and it was evident that she was sinking.