Roy got some food and the steward provided him with a little bag of provisions so that he need not leave the wireless house again until the storm was over. Then Roy crept back up the ladder and flung himself on his bed.
He slept for hours. During that time the ship staggered on. All day and all night the hurricane raged, and all the next day and the next night. For forty-eight hours Captain Lansford never left the bridge. Then, utterly exhausted, he staggered to his cabin and dropped asleep, while Mr. Young took command. For twenty-four hours the captain lay like one dead. Then he returned to the bridge and again took command. During all that time the storm continued without abatement. The seas climbed higher every hour under the terrific lashing of the tempest.
Roy spent long hours at his post. Indeed, he hardly laid aside his receivers except when he snatched a little sleep. He got into touch with the Comal again and learned that she had been beached by the wind, but that no one was hurt. The British oil tanker Tonawanda had been scuttled to save the Comal. The steamer Grampus and the schooner E. V. Drew had gone down in the harbor, while Key West itself was prostrated. Three hundred and twenty houses, together with stores, churches, and other buildings had been demolished. The wind had reached a velocity of 110 miles an hour. From other stations Roy learned of other damage. The town of Gould was virtually razed. The wireless station at Fort Taylor was wrecked. Towns all along the eastern Gulf shore were badly damaged by the awful wind. When Roy learned that the Valbanera had gone down with all on board, his face was very sober indeed. But for Captain Lansford, thought Roy, the Lycoming, too, might now be somewhere on the bottom of the Gulf.
Another day passed. The hurricane blew with undiminished force. With every hour of wind the seas grew higher. But the Lycoming weathered both wind and wave. She was drawing near her destination. Her harbor was not many hours distant. But could she make it? Would she dare try to run between those walls of stone in such a sea? Would she not have to put back into the open Gulf, like the Valbanera, and try to ride out the storm? These and a hundred other questions Roy asked himself when he realized that the Lycoming was drawing near to Galveston. Then he thought of the sea-wall and felt thankful it was there. If the Lycoming had withstood the tempest, he felt sure the sea-wall had, too. He shuddered to think what would have happened had there been no sea-wall.
All the time Roy was working with his instruments, trying to pick up news, listening for voices in the air. Again and again he had tried to get into touch with Galveston, but in vain. It was not until the middle of the afternoon that he finally reached the Marconi man there. It was late Saturday afternoon. The Galveston operator said the storm was then at its worst. The sea was beating furiously at the sea-wall. The wind was blowing nearly seventy miles an hour. The barometer was way below thirty. But the city was safe. He did not believe it would be wise to attempt to enter the harbor with such a sea running.
“Another night of it,” groaned Roy to himself, as the Galveston man flashed good-bye. “I hope I never see another storm like this. I’ll have to give this news to the captain.”
Roy laid aside his receivers and picked up his telephone. His signal was answered by the captain.
“Galveston man says storm at its height there now,” telephoned Roy. “Does not think it safe to try to enter harbor. Seventy-mile wind blowing.”
There was no reply. The captain had turned away from the telephone in anger. He was the judge of whether to enter the harbor or not, and not some landlubber sitting where he couldn’t even see the water.
Roy adjusted his receivers again. Hardly were they in place before a sound crackled in his ears, “SOS—SOS—SOS.”