Kitabı oku: «Bert Wilson, Wireless Operator», sayfa 5
CHAPTER VIII
The Captured Shark
The species of shark that inhabits tropical waters is very voracious, and will eat almost anything that has the smell or taste of food about it. Therefore, the sailors were troubled by no fears that the bait they were preparing would not prove tempting enough.
The cook had provided them with a huge slab of salt pork, and then the problem arose as to what they could use as a hook. Finally, however, one of the sailors unearthed a large iron hook, such as is used on cranes and other hoisting machinery. The point of this was filed down until it was sharp as a needle, and the big piece of meat was impaled on it.
“That ought to hook one of them blarsted man-hunters,” remarked one grizzled old sea dog, who was known to his companions as “Sam,” and apparently had no other name. “If that hook once gets caught in his gizzard, we’ll have him on board unless the rope breaks, won’t we mates?”
“Aye, aye. That we will,” came in a gruff chorus from the bronzed and hardy crew, and matters began to look dark for the unconscious sharks.
When the meat had been securely tied to the hook, the big crane used to store the cargo in the hold was brought into use, and the hook made fast to the end of the strong wire cable.
“Gee,” said Tom, who had been regarding these preparations with a good deal of interest, as indeed had everybody on deck, “I begin to see the finish of one of those beasts, anyway. I can see where we have shark meat hash for the rest of this voyage, if the cook ever gets hold of him.”
“Oh, they’re not such bad eating, at that,” said Ralph. “Why, when once in a while one becomes stranded on the beach and the natives get hold of him, they have a regular feast day. Everybody for miles around is notified, and they troop to the scene of festivities by the dozen. Then they build fires, cut up the shark, and make a bluff at cooking the meat before they start to eat it. But you can hardly call it eating. They fairly gorge it, and sometimes eat steadily a whole day, or at any rate until the shark is all gone but his bones. Then they go to bed and sleep off the results of their feed. They don’t need anything else to eat for some days.”
“Heavens, I shouldn’t think they would, after that,” laughed Bert. “I think if I ate a whole day without stopping it would end my worldly career at once. Subsequent events wouldn’t have much interest for me.”
“Oh, well,” said Dick, in a whimsical tone, “I suppose they think if they did die, they would at least have died happy.”
“And full,” supplemented Bert.
“Oh, that’s the same thing with them,” laughed Ralph. “That’s their idea of paradise, I guess. They’re always happy when they have enough to eat, anyway.”
“Well, that’s the way with all of us, isn’t it?” asked Dick. “You’re never very happy when you’re hungry, I know that.”
“But there’s a shark not very far from here that’s not going to be very happy when he’s eaten a square meal that we’re going to provide him,” laughed Bert, and the others agreed with him.
By this time everything was ready for the catching of at least one of the sharks, and steam was turned into the engine operating the crane. The machine proved to be in first-class condition, and so the baited hook was carried to the side and slowly eased into the water. An empty cask had previously been tied to it, however, to act as a float, and all eyes were fastened eagerly on this. It drifted slowly away from the ship’s side, as the cable was paid out, and was checked when it had reached a distance of perhaps a hundred and fifty feet from the vessel.
The sailors had armed themselves with axes and clubs, and waited expectantly for the disturbance around the cask that would show when the monster had been hooked.
For some time, however, the cask floated serenely, without even a ripple disturbing it. Many were the disappointed grumblings heard among passengers and crew, but the confidence of old Sam was not shaken.
“Give him time, give him time!” he exclaimed. “You don’t expect him to come up and swally the bait right on scratch, like as though he was paid to do it, do ye? Have a little patience about ye, why don’t ye? Bein’ disappointed in takin’ a nip out of the lad, there, them sharks will hang around, hoping for another chanst, never fear. Time ain’t money with them fellers.”
The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the cask disappeared in a whirl of foam, and a cheer arose from the spectators. The steel cable whipped up out of the water, and sprang taut as a fiddle string. The big crane groaned as the terrific strain came upon it.
“Say, but that must be a big fellow,” exclaimed Bert, in an excited voice. “Just look at that cable, will you. It takes some pull to straighten it out like that."
But now the shark, seeming to realize that he could not get away by pulling in one direction, suddenly ceased his efforts, and the cable slackened. Captain Manning gave the signal to the engineer to start winding in the cable, but hardly had the drum of the crane started to revolve, when the shark made a great circular sweep in a line almost parallel with the ship. The cable sang as it whipped through the water in a great arc, and the whole ship vibrated to the terrific strain.
But the great fish was powerless against the invincible strength of steam, and was slowly drawn to the ship as revolution after revolution of the inexorable engine drew in the cable. Leaning breathlessly over the side, the passengers and crew could gradually make out the shape of the struggling, lashing monster as he was drawn up to the ship’s side. He made short dashes this way and that in a desperate effort to break away, but all to no purpose. When he was right under the ship’s side, but still in the water, the captain ordered the engine stopped, and requested the passengers to retire to a safe distance. Bert, Dick, and Ralph pleaded hard to be allowed to take a hand in dispatching the monster, but Captain Manning was inexorable, and they were forced to withdraw from the scene of the coming struggle.
The crew grasped their weapons firmly, and as one put it, “cleared for action.”
Then the signal was given to resume hoisting the big fish aboard, and once more the crane started winding up the cable. Slowly, writhing and twisting, the shark was hauled up the side. He dealt the ship great blows with his tail, any one of which would have been sufficient to kill a man. His smooth, wet body gleamed in the sun’s rays, and his wicked jaws snapped viciously, reminding the spectators of the teeth of some great trap. All his struggles were in vain, however, and finally, with one great “flop” he landed on the deck.
He lashed out viciously with his powerful tail, and it would have been an ill day for any member of the crew that inadvertently got in its path. Needless to say, they were very careful to avoid this, and dodged quickly in and out, dealing the monster heavy blows whenever the opportunity offered. Slowly his struggles grew less strong, and at last he lay quite still, with only an occasional quiver of his great carcass. Then old Sam stepped quickly in, and delivered the “coup de grace” in the form of a stunning blow at the base of the shark’s skull.
This was the finishing blow, and soon the passengers were allowed to gather around and inspect the dead monster. A tape-measure was produced, and it was found that the shark was exactly twelve feet and seven inches long.
“Why,” remarked Dick, “you’d have been nothing but an appetizer to this fellow, if he had caught you, Ralph. He sure is some shark.”
“Well, I won’t contradict you,” said Ralph, “but I don’t think this shark was the same one that chased me. Why, it seems to me that that fellow was nothing but teeth. That’s all I remember noticing, at any rate.”
“Yes, but this rascal seems to have quite a dental outfit,” said Dick. “Just think what it must be to a shark if he starts to get a toothache in several teeth at once. It must be awful.”
“I’m certainly glad our teeth aren’t quite as numerous,” laughed Bert. “Just think of having to have a set of false teeth made. A person would have to work about all his lifetime to pay for a set like that.”
“It would be fine for the dentists, though,” remarked Ralph, but then he added, “I wonder what they’re going to do with this fellow, now that they’ve caught him.”
“Throw him overboard, I suppose,” said Bert. “I don’t think he’s of much use to us, seeing that we’re not like the savages Ralph was telling us about.”
And that is just about what they did do. First, however, the sailors secured a number of the shark’s teeth, and these were distributed among the passengers as souvenirs. Then the great carcass was hoisted up until it dangled over the water, and the hook was cut out. The dead monster struck the water with a splash, and slowly sank from view.
“Well, Ralph, now you’ve had your revenge, anyway,” said Bert. “I don’t think there’s much doubt that that was one of the pair that came so near to ending your promising career. He looked to be about the same size as the one that almost had you when we hauled you out.”
“Oh, I guess it’s the same one, all right,” agreed Ralph, “and I owe everyone a vote of thanks, I guess. I hope I never come quite so near a violent death again. It was surely a case of nip and tuck.”
The crew now set to work to clear up the mess that had been made on the deck, and soon all mementoes of the bloody struggle were removed. Shortly afterward the chief engineer reported that the break in the machinery had been repaired, and it was not very long before the ship renewed its interrupted voyage.
At the dinner table that night little else was spoken of, and Ralph was congratulated many times on his lucky escape.
And one of the passengers voiced the general sentiment, when he said with a smile that “he was satisfied if the ship broke down often, provided they always had as exciting an experience as they had had to-day.”
CHAPTER IX
In the Heart of the Typhoon
Over the quiet ocean so calm that, except for an occasional swelling foam-tipped wave it seemed like a sea of glass, the noon-day sun poured its golden light. It was a perfect day at sea, and so thought the passengers on board the swift ocean greyhound that plowed its way through the quiet waters of the Pacific.
A stately ship was she, a palace upon the waves. No deprivation here of any comfort or luxury that could be found on land. Her shining brass work gleamed in the sunshine like molten gold. The delicate colors in her paneling blended with the tints of the soft rugs on her polished floors. On deck, in the saloons, and staterooms, all was luxury. Gay groups of passengers, richly dressed, paraded her decks or lay at ease in their steamer chairs, or upon the softly-upholstered couches and divans of her gorgeous saloons. Japanese servants glided noiselessly to and fro, ministering to the slightest wish of these favored children of fortune. Everywhere were signs of wealth and ease and careless gaiety. Sounds of music and merry laughter floated over the quiet waters. Pain, fear, suffering, disaster, danger, death, – what had such words as these to do with this merry company? If anyone had mentioned the possibility of peril, of calamity, the idea would have been scouted. Why, this great ship was as safe as any building on land. Was it not fitted with water-tight compartments? Even such an unlikely thing as a collision could bring no fatal catastrophe.
That this feeling of absolute security is felt by all can be very plainly seen. Go to the perfectly appointed smoking-room and scan the faces of the gentlemen, quietly smoking and reading, or talking in friendly fashion together, or enjoying a game of cards. Every face is serene.
Pass on into the music-room. A waltz is being played by the piano and violin, and gay couples of young people are enjoying the dance to the utmost. Groups of interested older people look on with smiles. No anxiety here. Nothing but happy, care-free faces.
But come into the captain’s private cabin where he is standing, listening earnestly to one of his officers. Perfect appointments here also, but evidently they do not appeal to these men at this moment. No smiles of gaiety here. The captain’s face pales as he listens to his officer’s words.
“The barometer has fallen several inches in the last hour and a half,” was the announcement. Not enough in this, one may think, to cause anxiety. But the captain knew and realized, as few on board beside himself could, that the ship was nearing the coast of Japan, the latitude most frequently visited by the dreaded typhoon, and also that this mid-summer season was the most dangerous time of the year.
Among the first signs of danger from one of these terrible visitors is an unusually rapid fall of the barometer. No wonder that, with the responsibility of the lives and safety of hundreds of people resting upon him, his face should blanch with apprehension.
Verifying his officer’s statement by a quick look at the barometer, he went hastily on deck. Here his quick eye noticed the change in weather conditions; not very great as yet, only a slight cloudiness which dimmed the brightness of the sun. Not enough to trouble the passengers who, if they noticed it at all, were only conscious of an added sense of comfort in the softening of the almost too brilliant sunshine, but enough to deepen the pallor of the captain’s face and quicken his pulse with the realization of a great, impending danger. Even as he looked the heavens began still more to darken, the clouds increased in size and blackness and began to move wildly across the sky. The wind freshened and the quiet sea broke into billows which grew larger and more angry-looking each passing moment.
Taking his stand on the bridge, the captain summoned all his officers to him and gave quick, decisive orders. With the rapidity of lightning his orders are executed and soon everything is made snug. Every possible measure is taken to safeguard the ship.
But, now it was evident to all that more than an ordinary storm threatened them. In an almost incredibly short time the whole aspect of sky and sea had changed. The surface of the ocean was lashed into mountainous waves which raced before the terrible wind. The heavens darkened until an almost midnight blackness settled down over the appalled voyagers.
Vanished are the sounds of music and laughter. Gone the happy, care-free look from the faces. Filled with terror, they awaited they knew not what. The wind increased, and now the heavens opened and the rain came in such a torrential downpour that it seemed almost as if the great, staunch ship would be beaten beneath the waves.
With a feeling of agonized despair, the captain realized that that which he so feared had come upon the vessel, and that she was in the grasp of the dreaded typhoon. The darkness thickened, the wind increased, and suddenly they felt themselves caught in a great wave which tossed the ship about like a child’s toy. Back and forth twisted the great ship, completely at the mercy of this remorseless wind and sea.
Thunderous crashing was heard as the upper works of the ship were torn away by the gigantic waves that washed over her. The passengers were panic-stricken and rushed wildly about, seeking those who were dear to them, their cries and groans drowned in the roaring of tumultuous seas. The captain, calm and self-controlled in the midst of this terrible scene, went about among them, restraining, soothing, speaking words of encouragement and hope, but in his heart he had no hope. A fireman rushed up with the report that the engine-rooms were flooded and the fires out; and then, with blows that made the great ship tremble, part of timbers were torn away by the great seas which made no more of iron girders or sheets of riveted steel than if they were strips of cardboard. The sea rushed in from more than one jagged opening in her side.
Now at last, the captain realized that his splendid ship was doomed. The great vessel was slowly sinking. One hour, a little more, a little less, would see the end. And, to make their doom more certain, he could not launch a single life-boat for they had all been shattered and washed away by the sea. There is but one hope left, and quickly ascertaining that the wireless is still O. K., the captain orders the call for help. For who can tell at what moment the apparatus might be disabled? Eagerly the operator bends above his key and forth across the angry waves, defying the forces of wind and wave and torrent that have sought to cut them off from all succor, goes that pitiful cry for help.
With every nerve strained to the utmost tension he awaits the response that will assure him that his call is heard and that help is coming; but, before his ear can catch the welcome signal a flash, a whirring and snapping, tells him that the apparatus has gone dead! They must wait for the weary danger-fraught moments to bring them the knowledge. Thank God the cry for help was sent in time. There is a chance of its reaching some ship near enough to rescue them; but near indeed that ship must be or she will bring help too late.
Twenty miles away the good ship Fearless plows through mountainous billows that, breaking, drench her decks with spray.
In his wireless room Bert is sitting with his receiver at his ear on the alert for any message. His three chums are with him as usual, Tom and Ralph sitting in a favorite attitude with arms across the back of a chair in front of them, while Dick walked excitedly up and down the room. Quite a difficult task he found that for the ship was rolling considerably. As he walked he talked.
“Well, fellows,” he was saying, “I have always wanted to see a genuine storm at sea, and to-day I think I’ve seen it.”
“It seems to me that you’ve seen a great deal more storm to-day than you longed for or ever care to see again,” Tom commented.
“You’re just right there,” Dick agreed. “It would be all right if you could watch the storm without sharing the danger. There was one time this afternoon when I thought it was certainly all over with us.”
“It sure did look that way, and I guess Captain Manning thought so, too,” Tom said.
“It was a lucky thing for the Fearless,” Ralph broke in, “that the storm didn’t last long. If it had kept on much longer we shouldn’t be here talking about it now.”
“But wasn’t Captain Manning fine through it all?” said Bert.
They were all feeling the effects of one of the most thrilling experiences of their lives.
The Fearless, fortunate in not being in the direct course of the typhoon, had felt its force sufficiently to place her in great danger and to make every man Jack of her crew do his duty in a desperate effort to keep his ship from going to the bottom. That they had come through safely with no greater damage than the washing away of her life-boats was largely due to Captain Manning’s strength and courage, and the young fellows were filled with admiration. Each in his heart had resolved to prove himself as brave if a time of trial should come to him.
With this thought in mind they had sat very quietly for a few moments after Bert’s last remark, but now they all thrilled with a new excitement as Bert suddenly straightened up from his lounging position, and, with kindling eye and every faculty alert, grasped the key of his instrument. The others knew that he had caught a wireless message and feared from the sudden flushing and paling of his face that it was a call for help.
In the twinkling of an eye all was again excitement on board the Fearless. The ship’s course was altered and, with full steam pressure on her engines, she fairly flew to the rescue. Twenty miles, and a trifle over fifty minutes to reach that sinking ship. Could she make it? Hearts felt and lips asked the question as the Fearless raced over the water, and all eyes were strained in a vain effort to catch a sight of the ship to whose succor they were going long before there was even the remotest possibility of sighting her. Their own peril was so recently passed that all on board the Fearless throbbed with pity for those so much more unfortunate than themselves, and prayed heaven that they might be in time.
But if eyes were strained on the Fearless, how much more earnestly did everyone of those on the ill-fated steamer look for some sign or sound from a rescuing ship? The typhoon had passed very quickly, but what havoc it had wrought in so short a time! The floating palace that had seemed so secure was now reduced to a dismantled, twisted hulk, water-logged and slowly carrying her unfortunate passengers to destruction.
A whole hour had passed since the message had been sent forth to seek and find help, but no help had come. Who shall attempt to record the history of that hour? At first hope, faint it is true but still hope, then increasing anxiety as the doomed vessel settled deeper and deeper in the water, then growing despair as all feared, what the captain and crew knew, that in a very little while would come the end. Even if a vessel should appear now, the captain feared that only a few could be saved, as it must be a work of time to transfer those hundreds of passengers from one ship to another. As all the life-boats had been smashed and carried away, precious minutes must be lost awaiting a boat from the rescuing ship. But in order that all might be in readiness, the women and children were placed close to the rail to be taken first, and the other passengers told off in squads for each succeeding embarkation so that there need be no confusion at the last moment.
To the poor unfortunates those long minutes of waiting, fraught with possibilities of life or death, had seemed like hours. A great quiet had fallen over them, the paralyzing stupor of despair. Nearly all had ceased to hope or look for rescue, but sat with bowed heads, awaiting the fate which could not now be long delayed.
Suddenly, through this silent despairing company ran an electric thrill. Life pulsed in their veins, and hope that they had thought dead, sprang anew in their hearts. A sailor casting one despairing glance about him, had seen the smokestacks of a steamer gleaming red through the faint mist that still hung over the water. Springing to his feet, he began shouting, “Sail ho! a sail! a sail!” For a moment all was wildest confusion, and it was with greatest difficulty that the captain, who had prepared for just this outbreak, could control these frantic people and restore discipline among them. By this time, the lookout on the Fearless had made out the wreck and a heartening toot-toot from her steam whistle gladdened the waiting hundreds. But would she reach them in time? Already the captain had noticed the trembling of the ship that so surely foretells the coming plunge into the depths of the ocean. It is a miracle that Fate had so long stayed her hand. To be lost now, with life and safety almost within their grasp, would be doubly terrible.
Breathlessly they wait until the steamer moving at the very limit of her speed, comes nearer and nearer, till at last she slows and drifts only a few hundred feet away.
To the surprise of the Fearless, no attempt was made on board the sinking ship to lower her boats; and equal was the consternation on board the sinking steamer, when they saw that no boats were lowered from the other ship.
“Her boats are gone, too,” shouted Bert as the situation became plain to all. No sooner had the words left his lips than the Fearless’ carpenters were at work, and in an incredibly short space of time, a rough life buoy was knocked together. They worked with a will for they knew that every second might mean a life. The buoy consisted of a rude platform with uprights at its four corners, to the top of each of which a pulley was securely fastened. Around the uprights ropes were wound making a rude but safe conveyance.
While this was doing, a ball with string attached was shot from a small cannon on board the Fearless. Whistling through the air, it landed just within the wrecked ship’s rail. Eager hands prevent it from slipping and there is no lack of helpers to draw in the line to the deck. With deft but trembling hands the crew work to secure the cable which follows the line.
At last the life line is adjusted and secured between the two ships, the life buoy comes speeding over the water to the doomed vessel, and as it rushed back toward the waiting Fearless, with its load of women and children, a great cheer goes up. A moment, and the forlorn creatures are lifted by tender hands to the Fearless, and the buoy swings back for a second load. The work of rescue has begun.
Back and forth swings the buoy until the women and children are all safe, and still the miracle holds; the wreck still floats. In less time than would have seemed possible, all the sufferers from the wreck have reached the rescuing ship except the captain and his first mate, and the life buoy is swung back for the last time. Hurry now, willing hands! Already the bow of the sinking steamer is buried beneath the waves. Another moment or two, and it will be too late. Only a few feet more. Speed, speed, life buoy! She reaches the rail. Eager hands draw the two last voyagers over and cut the now useless life line. As the men step to the deck of the Fearless the wreck, with one more convulsive shiver, plunges to her last resting place, but, thank God, with not one soul left upon her. All are saved, and Bert, overcome, bows his head upon his arms, and again thanks heaven for the wireless. Once more it has wrought a miracle and plucked a host of precious lives from the maw of the ravenous sea.
