Bert Wilson, Marathon Winner

CHAPTER XII

The Ocean’s Prey

It was indeed a scene of awful wreckage on which they gazed. The gale had played havoc with the unfortunate vessel, and what with the aid of the mighty waves had almost completely demolished it. The bulwarks were battered and broken, where the masts had crushed them in falling overboard. Broken and splintered planks strewed the deck, and everything was bound together by tangled masses of cordage. The bridge had been torn from its fastenings at one end, and sagged down to the deck. All the davits were empty, with the exception of two in which boats were still hanging. The reason for this was plain, as they both had huge holes stove in their planking, and could not possibly have been repaired in less than several days.

Altogether it presented a sad spectacle, and bore mute testimony to the terrific violence of the storm through which they had just passed. There was no sign of life on board, but nevertheless Captain Everett decided to send a boat to investigate, on the off chance of picking up some wounded or sick person who might have been overlooked in the last mad launching of the boats.

Accordingly, a boat was lowered, and certain members of the crew told off to man her. “Gee!” exclaimed Tom, who with Dick, Bert, and most of the other athletes, was an interested spectator of these proceedings, “I’d give ’bout ten years of my life to be able to go with them. I don’t suppose there’s any chance of that, though, hang it!”

“Not a chance in the world,” replied Bert, but then he hesitated a minute, and said, “But wait, hold on a minute. I may be able to get us on, after all.”

“How are you going to do it?” questioned Dick, incredulously, but already Bert was making a bee-line for the captain.

When he could get Captain Everett’s attention he asked to be allowed to visit the wreck with his two companions. At first he would not even listen, but Bert begged so hard that he finally consented.

“Very well,” he answered, rather dubiously, “I suppose I’ll have to let you go, but just the same I wish you had asked some other favor. However, I don’t suppose any very great harm can come from it, so you have my permission, Wilson. I am trusting you to be careful and not endanger the lives of you or your two companions.”

“Thanks awfully,” said Bert, “and you may rest assured that we will take every precaution,” and Bert turned and raced back to his companions.

“It’s all right, fellows!” he yelled. “The captain says we can go, and everything’s settled. Make out I’m not the champion little fixer of this crowd of rescuing heroes.”

“You sure are,” admitted Dick. “We’ve got to hand it to you. But tell us the magic word. Let us in on the secret, and tell us how you did it.”

“Oh, I’ll tell you all about it later on,” replied Bert. “I haven’t time now, because they’re holding the boat for us as it is.”

Captain Everett, true to his promise, had given orders to the crew to take the three comrades with them, and they awaited their arrival with much impatience. They had not long to wait, however, for in another few seconds the three had raced across the deck at a pace that did credit to their training, and tumbled into the boat. Then the sailors gave way with a will.

The graceful boat fairly flew over the ocean, which by this time had become much smoother. Occasionally some wave higher than the rest would dash against the sides and send a silvery shower of spray over them, and without careful seamanship it would have been no very difficult matter to swamp the frail craft.

However, they reached the wreck without mishap, and then the question arose as to the best way to board the hulk. The splintered mast washing against the side of the ship nearest to their own vessel made it impossible to land on that side, so they rowed around under the stern of the wreck. Here her name was printed in prominent black letters: the Mary Carpenter, of New York. Continuing to the other side, they had small difficulty in picking up a trailing rope and making their little boat fast. Then, one after the other, they went up the rope hand over hand until all the crew were on the littered deck with the exception of one sailor who was left to take care of the boat. The boys had no choice but to follow suit, but they tackled the feat with many misgivings. It is not as easy a thing as it may sound to climb hand over hand up a slippery cable, with a seething ocean below, and the ship to which the rope is attached jerking and plunging in every direction. Fortunately, their nerve and good training enabled them to negotiate the perilous passage without accident, and they were soon standing on the deck of the wreck.

Mr. Pollard, the officer commanding the expedition, led the way, picking his way over piled and tumbled wreckage that told its own story of storm and destruction.

He made directly for the cabin, followed by the others. As they neared it they could distinguish a muffled barking, and Dick exclaimed, “Well, what do you know about that, fellows! They’ve left in such a hurry that they’ve left their dog behind. It begins to look as though we might have a chance to rescue something, anyway.”

“Doesn’t it, though?” said Tom, and the boys could hardly restrain their eagerness to break open the door imprisoning the unfortunate animal.

They were not long in reaching it, but found the door blocked, apparently by some heavy object inside. Several of the sailors set their brawny shoulders against the door, however, and it burst inward with a crash. From the opening dashed a big white bulldog, running full tilt into Tom and fairly knocking him off his feet.

“For the love of Mike!” exclaimed Tom, as he picked himself up, “what hit me anyway? Was it an elephant, or what?”

As soon as the others could recover from their laughter, they began making overtures to the dog, who had rushed up into the bows and now regarded them suspiciously. “Poor old fellow,” said Bert, “I guess he thought the end of the world had come, or something equally bad. He doesn’t seem to like our looks very much now, though, does he?”

“Well, if he does, he conceals his feelings very successfully,” said Dick. “He may become better tempered, though, when he sees that we’re trying to introduce ourselves properly.”

Indeed, the dog seemed more frightened than vicious, and presently began to wag his tail feebly. After much coaxing he came toward them, and Bert ventured to pat his head. The dog licked his hand affectionately, and wagged his tail, or what he called his tail, as hard as he knew how. “Say, fellows,” said Bert, seized by a sudden inspiration, “let’s take him back with us and make him our mascot. I have a feeling that he’ll bring us all the luck in the world.”

“Great idea,” agreed Tom and Dick, and adopted the ship-wrecked one forthwith. The suggestion of a sailor that he hadn’t brought much luck to the vessel on which he was found fell on deaf ears, and the boys returned to the search of the ship, followed unquestioningly by their latest acquisition.

Inside the dark cabin everything was in a confused state fitly matching that of objects outside. The berths were tumbled, and the bed-coverings were strewn about the floor. A small iron safe set in flush with the wall was open, and empty. A few stray coins were scattered here and there about the floor, and the first comers pounced eagerly on these, to save as souvenirs. A further search failed to reveal the ship’s log or any of her papers, but of course this was not to be wondered at, as only in a case of the most dire peril will a commander leave his vessel without these.

There were three other state-rooms opening out of the main cabin, but after they had been thoroughly ransacked nothing of any value was found in them.

“Well, men,” said Mr. Pollard, “I guess there’s no use in staying here any longer. Evidently there’s no living soul on board, and as far as I can see there seems to be nothing worth taking away.”

Accordingly, after one last glance around the forlorn cabin, they had turned and were preparing to go on deck, when they were startled by a shout from above and the man who had been left to take care of the small boat poked his shaggy head inside the door.

“You’d better make haste, sir,” he exclaimed, in an excited voice, addressing Mr. Pollard, “this old tub’s settling fast, sir, and I think she’s about due to go under in something less than a quarter of an hour.”

Accordingly Mr. Pollard gave the order to return to their boat, but the words had hardly left his mouth when the wreck gave a sickening lunge, and the face of more than one in the little party went pale.

“Step lively, now, men!” ordered the officer, in a tense voice. He had no need to repeat his order, for the ship began to list over at a sharp angle, and the men broke into a run. The sight that met their eyes as they leaped up the stairs to the deck was terrifying. When they had gone below, the deck had been perhaps four feet above the water, but now it was almost level with the waves at its highest part, and where it had listed over the water was lapping above the boards.

A shout went up from the sailors, and they made a wild dash for the boat. Into it they tumbled, pell mell, and last of all came the three boys and Mr. Pollard. They leaped into the boat without selecting their landing place very carefully, and those nearest the oars snatched them up and began pulling for dear life. They were not in unison, however, and the boat fairly crawled away from the side of the doomed vessel. It seemed like some horrible nightmare, in which deadly peril is seen approaching, but from which the sleeper is unable to escape. Fortunately, both Dick and Bert had managed to get hold of an oar on opposite sides of the boat, and they at least kept their heads and worked together.

They knew that if the wreck sank before they got one or two hundred feet from it, the whole boat load would be drawn under by the suction. They tugged and pulled desperately, and gradually, aided to some extent by the cooler of the crew, drew away from the dangerous vicinity. In their excitement they had forgotten the poor dog, but now they were reminded of his presence by seeing him come to a broken place in the bulwarks and gaze after them with beseeching barks and whines.

Dick looked at Bert, but the latter shook his head. “No, we can’t take a chance and go back for him, Dick,” he said, “it would be staking all our lives against that of a dog. We’ll have to leave him, that’s all.”

“Gee, but I hate to do that,” exclaimed Tom, “maybe we can get him to follow us,” and he started whistling to the dog.

The animal seemed uncertain what to do, but after giving one despairing glance around at the dismantled deck, he appeared to make up his mind, and plunged boldly overboard. Those in the boat would have liked to wait for him, but they dare not. They were not yet at a safe distance, and the wreck was going down fast now. She was listed considerably to port, and they could see the waves washing further and further up the sloping deck.

Slowly, slowly, the unfortunate schooner settled, causing little ripples and eddies in the water surrounding it, which by this time was almost calm. Now almost half the deck was under water, and then the stern gradually rose in the air, while the bows pointed downward into the green depths. Slowly, deliberately, she slid under the waves, and one more proud ship was added to the ocean’s heavy toll.

A deep sigh went up from those in the little boat, partly of thankfulness at their own escape, and partly of sorrow over the fate of the wrecked schooner.

The poor bull dog had disappeared, and the boys gave him up for lost. Suddenly Tom cried, “Look, fellows, look! He must have been dragged under by the suction, but I just saw him come up!”

Sure enough, over the spot where the ship had gone down they could see a little white speck bobbing up and down.

“Give way, men!” ordered Mr. Pollard, “we might as well pick the plucky little scamp up. It’s easy to see he’s no quitter.”

The men were nothing loth, and were soon alongside the game little swimmer. Tom leaned over the side, and grasping him by the scruff of his neck, pulled him safely inboard. The dog feebly licked his hand, but then lay in a little dejected heap in the bottom of the boat, panting heavily.

“Well, old sport, fate has certainly been handing you a rather rough deal lately, hasn’t she?” asked Bert, addressing the dog, and was answered by a faint wag of the stubby tail.

“We’ll have to give him a name, I suppose,” said Dick, “what shall we call him fellows? Suggest something.”

This was a serious matter, for of course a mascot has got to have an appropriate name. ‘Sport,’ ‘Nero,’ ‘Prince,’ and many others were proposed, but were finally rejected in favor of Bingo, which had a college flavor and seemed to suit him very well.

By the time this question had been settled they had reached the Northland, and were soon on board. Last of all Bingo was hoisted over the side, and introduced to the assembled athletes as the team mascot. He was received with the greatest enthusiasm, and immediately proceeded to make friends with everybody.

“I always thought we’d clean things up at the Olympics,” remarked Drake, “but now I feel more certain of it than ever. The only thing we lacked is now supplied. I must confess, now that the trial is past, that having no mascot has kept me awake many a night and seriously affected my appetite,” he said, with a grin.

“Gee, if anything has been affecting your appetite, Drake,” said one of the others, “I’d like to see you when you were in first class shape and could really eat. I think this bally old hooker would be out of grub in less than a week.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right, pick on me, just because I’m small and weak,” grinned Drake, who was something like six feet two inches tall, and weighed a hundred and ninety-five pounds, “why don’t you go and get some poor victim of your own size once in a while.”

“Gee, it must be awful to be feeble and puny the way you are, Drake,” laughed Bert, “you certainly do arouse my pity. What you need is a tonic to build you up.”

“Yes,” chimed in Tom, “poor Drake’s fading fast. All he could do to-day was to throw the discus a measly little hundred and thirty feet and a fraction. That sure is an indication of falling powers.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed how he’s weakening,” remarked Axtell. “Why, he hasn’t got anything at all on that discus except a mile a minute speed and a world of strength. Otherwise he’s certainly all in.”

Drake stood all this chaffing with a good natured grin, for he was in such good condition that he could afford to have people joke about it. He had been doing better and better all the time, and nobody on board had the slightest doubt that he would break all records at the coming Olympic.

He was really a marvel of strength, but some of the sailors on board, while they admitted that “the big guy could sure throw that plate around” still believed that at least one of their number had the ‘goods’ on him. They pinned their faith on a big, red haired Irishman of their number, who had won fame in many a rough and tumble battle, and swore that no ‘college guy’ who ever lived could throw him. The athletes had equal faith in Drake, however, and knew that he had at one time taken considerable interest in scientific wrestling. This fact, combined with his phenomenal strength, made them certain he could throw the big sailor.

For some time there had been considerable controversy between the athletes and the crew, all in a good natured strain, however. The sailors were anxious to pit their champion against Drake, but the latter had felt that such a contest would interfere with his training, and so had held off.

That morning, however, the big Irish sailor had made a vaunting remark that had “gotten Drake’s goat,” and made the big fellow resolve to bring matters to an issue once and for all.

He confided his resolve to Bert and a few chosen pals, and they were glad to hear it, for the crew had all along adopted a skeptical attitude toward the athletes, and referred to them more than once as the “college kids.”

Accordingly they decided to challenge the big sailor that very night, and Dick was intrusted with the task. They decided to meet the man (Donahue by name), on his own terms, so that afterward the sailors could have no possible grounds of complaint.

In pursuance of this plan Dick went forward to the sailors’ quarters immediately after supper, and found Donahue and some of his friends lying in their berths smoking black clay pipes and swapping yarns, as was their custom off watch, when they felt strong enough to stand the strain.

“And phwat’s the matter now, young felly?” inquired Donahue, when he saw Dick coming down the ladder. “Sit down awhile and make yersilf comfortable. I was jist goin’ to tell my mates o’ the time Oi was wrecked on a cannibal island an’ married the chief’s daughter, an – ”

But here Dick interrupted him. “I’m afraid I won’t have time to listen just now,” he said. “I’ve come from my friend Drake (the discus thrower, you know), and he wants me to say that he thinks he can throw the best wrestler you’ve got here, bar none.”

“Oh, he does, does he?” growled Donahue, “all right, me bye, you just go back and tell him that Oi’m ready for him any minute of the day, or night too fer that matter. How does he want to run the match? Under a lot o’ fancy rules, Oi suppose.”

“Not on your tintype,” replied Dick, warmly, “this is to be catch as catch can, and the best man wins. You haven’t any objection to that, have you?”

“Divil a bit,” said the sailor, “thim terms suits me all right. What do ye say mates? When shall we run off the match?”

“What would be the matter with to-morrow evening right after supper?” inquired Dick, “you might as well take your licking then as any other time, Donahue, and get the agony over with.”

“Lickin’, is ut?” said the big Irishman, grimly. “Lickin’ it may be, but it won’t be me as gets it, you can lay to that. Bring on your man after supper to-morrow evenin’ at about this time, and Oi’ll stretch me muscles a little before goin’ to sleep. Me heart’s full o’ pity for your man, though. It seems a shame to do ut,” and he grinned and gave a tremendous and elaborate yawn.

“All right, we’ll be here,” replied Dick, “only if you’ve got any sympathy to spare, I’d advise saving it for your own private use. You’ll need plenty of it.”

“Well, that’s as may be,” replied Donahue, and after settling a few more details Dick left.