It was fortunate indeed for Roy that he could thus come to understand his true situation. It prevented him, on the one hand, from becoming conceited, and so ruining his chances of ever getting ahead; and, on the other hand, it kept him from growing sullen and becoming indifferent in his work. And while it could hardly have been called encouraging, it was far from being discouraging. For Roy’s entire experience of life made him believe firmly that if he worked hard enough and used his brains along with his hands, nothing could keep him from succeeding. The net result of all his cogitations, therefore, was to make him grit his teeth the tighter and vow in his heart that nothing should prevent him from winning out. He would do perfectly every task that could possibly be required of him.
Week after week went by with no noticeable alteration in the captain’s attitude toward Roy. The captain spoke to him politely but without cordiality. He never came to the wireless house and he never invited Roy to the bridge, or the wheel-house, or his own cabin. He sent no messages other than those required by his work. He never asked for weather-reports or storm warnings, or the nightly news-letter, though Roy unfailingly laid these before the captain. But whether the latter welcomed them or took any interest in them Roy could not discover.
All the while Roy continued to pick up useful information. He got acquainted with every member of the crew. He learned exactly how a ship is coaled and how the coal is stored in the bunkers. Often he visited the fire-room and the water-tenders explained to him exactly how fires should be handled. He watched the crew load and unload the ship and soon found that if the cargo was to be stowed in such a manner that it would not shift in a storm and endanger the ship, it must be packed with fine skill. Harder than ever he tried to make himself agreeable to the passengers, for he bore ever in mind the fact that it was his duty to get as much business for the company as he could.
Meantime, Roy matured rapidly. All his pleasing frankness and his jolly good nature he retained. More and more he grew dependable. Before many weeks passed everybody aboard the Lycoming, from the captain down, understood that if Roy said he would do a thing or if he were ordered to do a thing, that thing would be done, and done promptly and well. Roy hardly realized what a reputation he had gained. And even if he had, it is hardly likely that he would have appreciated the full importance of such a reputation. Though he knew in his heart that any real success must be based on just such a reputation for trustworthiness, he was constantly on the lookout for an opportunity to prove his merit in ways more striking. The opportunity came to Roy far sooner than he ever believed it would and in a way it would have terrified him to contemplate, could he have foreseen all that lay before him.
Early September found Roy on his last voyage aboard the Lycoming. At least he believed it to be his last. The three months’ period during which a possible successor was being prepared for his position was almost at an end. The captain had given no indication that he thought more highly of Roy or that he desired him to continue at his post. Neither had he ever mentioned, after their first interview, the probability of a successor for Roy. But Roy understood that he would not. The new man would simply come aboard and Roy would be told to report to the Marconi office. What would happen to him then he did not know. He hated to think of the day when this would happen, for it might mean the end of his career as a Marconi operator. More than that, it would certainly mean an end to his relations with the purser and the first mate and all the other friends who had been so good to him on the Lycoming, and of whom he had become so fond. So it was with a rather heavy heart that he put to sea early in September on what he believed would be his very last trip aboard the Lycoming. It was hard to keep a stiff upper lip and to continue smiling. But Roy took a grip on himself and made the effort.
Apparently the journey was to be as uneventful as the last few trips had been. Two days passed without incident. Then the barometer began to fall. Roy did not know that, but he had grown sufficiently weather-wise to know that a storm was brewing. At first he thought little of it. The captain’s face, as usual, was inscrutable, but Mr. Young looked sober. When Roy noticed that he began to feel concerned. Then he remembered that it was the ninth of September—the very period of the year when the worst storms visit the Gulf.
The Lycoming was already far down the Florida coast. The Bahama Islands were just ahead. The passage between Palm Beach and the Great Bahama Island was hardly sixty miles wide—a mere nothing in a storm, should anything go wrong. Only a few hours distant were the Florida Straits, with their treacherous currents and their far-flung string of keys, like a chain to catch the unwary mariner, with Key West like a pendant at the end of the chain, and the Dry Tortugas still farther west. Perilous indeed would be the position of any ship overtaken thereabout by a hurricane.
Roy inspected his apparatus, made sure his telephone was in working order, and got ready for an emergency. Late in the day Roy went on the bridge to talk to Mr. Young, who was in command. Already there were signs of the coming storm. The wind was soughing ominously and rising steadily. The sea was beginning to heave. The Lycoming rolled unsteadily. Roy thanked his lucky stars that he had gotten his sea-legs and could stand rough weather without being seasick. He might be needed and he wanted to be fit if he were.
“What do you think of it?” asked Roy.