A Runaway Brig: or, An Accidental Cruise

"It looks as if somethin' had put the fire out," he said; and Bob replied, as he let go the davit-falls:

"Make fast there, lads, an' I'll take a look below. We don't want to abandon the brig while there's a chance of standin' by her."

The old sailor went forward, the boys remaining aft ready to lower away at a moment's notice, and in a few seconds, to the surprise of all, he was seen going below.

"Now, that's what I call queer!" Jim said after five minutes had passed and Bob did not make his appearance. "He couldn't stay down there very long if the fire amounted to much."

"Perhaps he's been suffocated and can't get back," Harry suggested in a low, tremulous tone.

This idea was sufficient to alarm the other boys, and stopping only long enough to make the falls fast they rushed forward, reaching the fore hatchway just as Bob began to ascend.

"Is the fire very big?" Jim asked; and the reply astonished them quite as much as had the explosion.

"There ain't even a spark!"

"Then what caused the smoke?"

"The brig is loaded with alcohol in casks made of red-oak. That kind of wood is porous, an' the fumes escapin' have formed a gas that looked like smoke, but which had force enough to blow off a hatch that wasn't battened down." Then, as Bob seated himself on the combing and wiped the perspiration from his face, he added: "Now we can have a pretty good idee as to why this craft was abandoned. There was an explosion same as happened a few minutes ago, an' all hands thought what we did – that the brig was on fire. They hove her to an' got the boats over, most likely meanin' to lay at a safe distance until it was possible to find out what would happen. The mainsail was stowed, so she had no after-canvas to hold her steady. Then she got stern-way-on an' backed off till the wind filled her topsails, when she started like a rocket, leavin' the crew behind. Of course she would run a couple of miles, then come to, an' before the men could catch her she'd be off once more. The chances are that them maneuvers were kept up till night set in, when she was lost entirely."

The three boys listened with the utmost attention to this very plausible explanation of what had previously been such a deep mystery, and when Bob concluded there was a look of most intense relief on their faces. Up to this moment the brig herself terrified them because of what had possibly happened on board; but now all seemed changed, and she was suddenly transformed from something supernatural to the most innocent and peaceful of traders.

"Then there's no reason for abandoning her?" Harry said half-interrogatively.

"Not a bit of it, lad. We'll leave the hatch open to let the gas out, an' run her in on the coast if we don't speak a craft that can lend us two or three hands."

"S'posin' you could get some more sailors, then how would you fix it?" Jim asked, remembering what the old man had said regarding his ignorance of navigation.

"Take the chances of keepin' off the shore till we sighted a New York pilot-boat, an' then lay claim for a fat salvage."

"And we should be landed at home!" Walter exclaimed in delight. "We might stop in front of Harry's father's store, which is close by the wharves; and I guess there'd be a big time when Mr. Vandyne found out who had brought in the Bonita!"

"Don't count too much on anything like that, Walt," Harry added gravely. "Bob said he would try to make that port if he could find some sailors to help him; but according to the looks of things now it'll be a long while before such good luck comes."

"We can believe it will be here any moment, and then the nights won't seem so lonely, nor the days so long."

"That's right, lad; don't trouble trouble till trouble troubles you. Keep a stiff upper lip whatever happens, an' you'll stand a better show of pullin' through!" Bob cried in a cheery tone. "I was shipmate once with a chap what was allers worryin' 'bout findin' hisself on a haunted vessel. He never'd put his mark to the articles till after he'd asked all about the craft, an' whether there was any ghosts aboard. Now, you let a man go nosin' 'round expectin' to see things, an' it happens that what he's huntin' for most allers comes, or else he conjures 'em up. Well, so it was with Tom – Tom Byard, he called hisself. He got drunk one night, an' the next mornin' awoke on a ship bound 'round the Horn with a cargo of railroad iron.

"It wasn't long before he commenced to hunt after ghosts, 'an this time he didn't have to look very far. I reckon the liquor – he'd been on a four days' spree – had considerable to do with his eyes; an' that very night, while they was within sight of Sandy Hook, he saw, or thought he did, the biggest kind of a ghost makin' right for him with a bloody knife. Tom was on the maint'gallant-yard with another chap when the thing come. He give a big yell, singing out that he knowed it would be there some time, an' over he went. Nobody ever saw hide or hair of him afterward, an' the captain put in the log-book as how it was delirium tre – tre – tremenjus, or somethin' like that, what killed him."

The point that Bob sought to make was forgotten owing to the length of the story, and even he himself appeared to have lost sight of any moral; therefore, what had been intended as a strong argument why people should not seek out trouble passed for nothing better than a very improbable yarn.

The boys were eager to see the cargo which had given them so much alarm, and had also possibly been the cause of the brig's abandonment by her original crew; therefore they went below on a tour of investigation, which was not very satisfactory because there was nothing but a quantity of casks to be seen.

Ten minutes in the hot hold was sufficient to gratify their curiosity, and then the amateur cook sat about preparing the noonday meal.

CHAPTER VIII.

ANOTHER SIGNAL OF DISTRESS

Now that the boys had lost all fear of the Bonita, half their troubles seemed suddenly to have vanished. As a matter of course, Harry and Walter grieved because of the sorrow their unexplainable absence must have caused at home; but their distress of mind was lessened very materially by the belief that they would soon be in a condition to return.

Even Bob appeared to be relieved by what was evidently the solution of the mystery, and it was quite a jolly party which gathered in the saloon to partake of the dinner prepared by Jim.

"Now that things seem to be straightened up a bit, an' all hands are feelin' kinder nat'ral-like, I reckon we'll get some sail on the old hooker this afternoon," Bob said when the meal was finished and he had begun to make ready for the after-dinner smoke.

"There ain't wind enough to lift a pocket-handkerchief," Jim suggested, "so why do you want more canvas?"

"I don't reckon it'll hold calm a great while, an' we must be ready when the breeze does come. There's time now to give Harry an' Walter a lesson in workin' ship, an' they need it."

The boys had no objection to make, for a certain amount of labor was necessary if they ever hoped to reach home again, and they signified their willingness to begin at once; but the old sailor insisted on finishing his smoke before doing anything else.

"There's plenty of time," he said lazily, "an' we'll lay under the awnin' till the sun gets a little nearer the water."

Then he arose from the table, and as the boys followed on deck they were electrified by hearing him shout, as he shaded his eyes from the glare and gazed southward:

"There's a steamer, lads! Now all we've got to do is hook on an' be towed into port. Set the flag so's they'll know we're in distress, an' we'll overhaul the hawsers to save time."

Before he ceased speaking the boys had made out that which caused Bob so much excitement. It was a small craft coming toward them under steam, as could be told from the thread of smoke which floated on the still air, and after one glance at her Jim hoisted the signal of distress while the others gathered in the bows to watch the welcome approach.

"It ain't a very big steamer," the young fisherman said as he rejoined his companions.

"Most likely she's a tug what's got blown out to sea," Bob replied as he went into the cabin for a glass; and when he came on deck again the boys waited impatiently to learn what could be seen.

During fully ten minutes the old sailor held the glass to his eyes, while a mystified expression came over his face as he said to Jim:

"Here, take this an' see what you can make out. It puzzles me, for a fact."

"She looks like a tug," the boy said, after gazing at the approaching craft several seconds; "but there's something queer on her bow."

"What about her spars?" Bob asked impatiently.

"She's got two short masts, and – Why, what's that? She's flying a signal of distress!"

"That's about the size of it," Bob exclaimed as he brought his hand down on the rail with a vigorous slap as if to give emphasis to his words.

"I thought my eyes must be playin' me a trick, so that's why I asked you to look. Her bow has been stove, an' she's workin' up this way for help."

"Well," and Jim lowered the glass with a gesture of disappointment, "she's comin' to a pretty poor place, for we've got our hands full tryin' to help ourselves."

During the next half hour hardly a word was spoken, so occupied were all hands with watching the stranger, which approached very slowly, and at the end of that time she was almost within hailing distance.

It was a small tug with a flag run half-way up the stumpy mainmast, and her bow stove from the cut-water nearly to the pilot-house. A stream of water coming from the starboard side told that the steam-pump was necessary to keep her afloat; but no person save a boy about eighteen years of age, who was at the wheel, could be seen.

"She must be pretty nigh as short-handed as we are," Bob said; and then came a hail.

"Brig ahoy!"

"Ahoy on the tug!"

"Can you send me some men? The steamer is sinking, and I am the only one on board."

"Who's running the engine?" Bob shouted.

"I am, and trying to steer at the same time."

"There's only one man an' three boys here. Can't you manage to come alongside?"

The helmsman waved his hand as if in reply and disappeared, when the steamer's speed was checked. Then he entered the pilot-house again, going below once more to stop the machinery entirely when within fifty yards of the brig.

By this means the tug was brought so near that a heaving-line could be thrown aboard, and ten minutes later she was lying alongside the Bonita as a tired, hungry-looking boy stepped over the brig's rail.

"I reckon you've been havin' a decently tough time," Bob said by way of starting the conversation.

"Since yesterday morning I've been trying to keep her afloat. If some craft hadn't hove in sight to-day I should have given up, and probably gone to the bottom with her."

"How did you get in such a mess?"

"An ocean steamer ran into us at sunrise yesterday. Before she could clear herself every one of the tug's crew, except myself, climbed on board over the bow. I was the engineer, and had an assistant. He was on duty at the time, and I asleep in the after cabin. The shock of the collision threw me out of the bunk and stunned me, I reckon, for when I came on deck there was no craft in sight. Since then I've kept steam on so the pump would work, and run in the hope of sighting some craft."

"Where do you hail from?"

"Philadelphia. The Sea Bird is a new boat, and we were taking her to Cuba."

"How long have you been out?"

"Five days from the Capes."

"Then we've made more of a southin' than I reckoned on," Bob said half to himself, and seeing a look of inquiry on the stranger's face he gave a brief account of the Bonita from the time the boys came aboard; saying, in conclusion: "We're better off than you, for the brig is sound; so you'd best bring your traps over the rail an' let the steamer sink when she gets ready. I reckon with your help we can crawl in toward the mainland an' make a tidy bit of salvage at the same time. What's your name?"

"Joseph Taylor. The only work I have ever done on ship-board has been in the engine-room, and I'm afraid I sha'n't make much of a sailor."

"You've got strength an' pluck," Bob said approvingly, "an' that's enough."

"But I don't like to give up trying to save the Sea Bird. She isn't stove below the water-line, is new, and is worth fifteen thousand dollars."

"I'm afraid, lad, that we haven't got force enough to do very much in the way of ship-building;" and Bob shook his head gravely as if to say he thought it a hopeless case. "Howsomever, while there's no wind we sha'n't be wastin' time, so it won't do any harm to have a look at her."

Joe Taylor led the way over the rail, and the three boys, eager to see the little steamer, followed directly behind Bob, Jim whispering to his friends:

"If this cruise don't end pretty soon we shall have a reg'lar cripples' crew aboard. Here's me, who come from the Mary Walker; you, that never belonged to any craft; the old Bonita, with nobody to work her; Bob, as a remnant of the Trade Wind, an' now another feller with a sinkin' tug. It's a nice crowd to talk about salvage when they can't help theirselves!"

"Just let us get ashore once more, an' I'll be satisfied to have somebody else make money by taking these crafts into port!" and Walter leaped on to the deck of the tug in a discontented way, as if he fancied the shuttered steamer had brought fresh trouble and complications upon them.

The litter of splintered timbers, loose ropes and general wreckage on the forward deck of the Sea Bird gave her the appearance of having suffered more injury than really was the case. Instead of a sharp, narrow bow, as is usual on crafts of her kind, the hull flared very decidedly from the water-line to the deck, thus giving her greater carrying capacity; and it was this upper portion which had been cut into, leaving the lower part in fair condition.

All this Bob saw at a glance after going on board, and he at once began a careful examination with a view to ascertaining how badly her seams had been strained.

"What amount of coal have you got?" he asked, coming on deck after spending fully half an hour in the hold.

"Enough to run three or four days."

"That wouldn't carry her to the Capes, if your reckonin' is right as to the time she's been out; but we might manage to make some nearer port," he said half to himself; and then added, in a louder tone: "I calculate the hole might be patched up with spare canvas an' plenty of tar; but we'd need fair weather till the job was done."

"If you could manage that part of it I can tow the brig, providing one of your party steers," said the engineer eagerly. "Why not tackle the job? If the weather should change it would be only the loss of a few hours' time."

Before committing himself to such a plan Bob made one more examination of the shattered timbers, looked again in the hold, and then, after lighting his pipe in the most deliberate manner, replied decidedly:

"We'll do the best we can, lad, pervidin' the balance of the Bonita's crew is agreeable; an' by patchin' the steamer up I reckon it'll be possible to pull the brig out of what looks like a bad mess."

He gazed inquiringly at the boys as he ceased speaking, and Harry, answering for the others as well as himself, said in a reasonably cheerful tone:

"We'll do all we know how; and it won't be our fault if we don't succeed!"

But even as he spoke he doubted the wisdom of taking another burden on their already overloaded shoulders; and that this opinion was shared by Jim and Walter could be told from the expression of their faces.

Nevertheless, Bob's intentions were good. With the tug the brig could be towed in a calm, and her progress stayed entirely, or checked, during the hours of darkness when the danger of striking a reef would be greatest. An engineer and a helmsman was all the force needed by such an arrangement, and thus the voyage might be brought to a speedy conclusion without other aid.

CHAPTER IX.

THE HELMSMAN'S MISTAKE

Although the three boys had agreed with Bob that an attempt be made to so far repair the tug that she might be gotten into port, all of them believed she should have been left to sink. By making Joe Taylor a member of the crew the brig could be worked under lower sails, and there was little doubt but that she would soon reach the coast; whereas, by trying to save the steamer both crafts might be lost.

The old sailor had already decided what should be done, and when the question was settled he went at once to the lazaret for such materials as would be needed. Joe Taylor disappeared in the Sea Bird's engine-room, and the boys were left standing by the rail, where they could discuss the matter privately.

"If we didn't have hands enough to work the brig I'd like to know how much better we're off by taking charge of another craft?" Walter asked disconsolately; and Jim replied, in what he intended should be a cheery tone:

"Bob knows what he's about. If the tug is kept afloat she can tow us in."

"Unless her coal gives out," Harry added; "and then we'll be worse off than before."

"We shall only have lost jes' so many days, for she can be abandoned at any time," Jim replied.

"And it is the possible loss of those days which makes me feel that we ought not to make any attempt at saving her. Walter's father and mine would be willing to pay what she cost if they could find us, and every hour makes their sorrow greater."

"Well," Jim said slowly, "it can't be helped, so we might as well look cheerful. Neither Bob nor the engineer would listen to us if we said the tug ought to be abandoned, and our only chance is to hurry up with the work."

"I don't see why Bob even thinks of such a thing." And Walter spoke in a tone of discontent. "Here we are so far from the coast that the tug was five days out at the time of the collision, which means ten for a sailing vessel, and with half enough coal to get her back. What good will it do to patch her up if we can't keep on steam?"

"That's somethin' I ain't able to answer," Jim replied gravely. "These old sailors are queer fish, an' nobody can ever tell what kind of a scheme they're likely to strike. This much is certain, though. Bob wouldn't listen to us, 'cause he thinks we don't know the meanin' of sich work."

"It seems to me that it would be better to abandon the brig, which we can't navigate, and go on the tug as far us her coal will carry us," Harry suggested; but to such an idea the young fisherman made the most decided objections.

"To leave a sound craft for one that's pretty nigh knocked to pieces would be foolish. I'd rather take my chances ten days' sail from the coast on the brig than go aboard a steamer like her for a trip half the distance. We're pretty sure of keepin' afloat here, but on the tug, Davy Jones' Locker seems mighty near!"

By this time Bob had come on deck with a spare studding-sail, and the boys were prevented from holding any further discussion by the necessity of immediate action.

There was not so much as a breath of air stirring. The sea was like glass, save for the lazy swell which caused both crafts to rise and fall in regular measure, and everything seemed favorable for the proposed task.

"It ain't sich a big job, lads," the old sailor said, as, dropping the canvas on deck, he made his way toward the carpenter's-room. "I've seen crafts bunged up worse'n she is, an' yet finish the biggest end of a voyage."

When Bob had collected such tools as might be needed he summoned all hands, and the work was begun by spreading a double thickness of canvas over the shattered portion of the hull outside, fastening it down firmly with copper nails. This temporary stoppage of the leak was carried as far below the surface as was possible without diving, and when the aperture had been thus closed a heavy coat of tar was put on over the entire canvas. Outside of this, again, were nailed light boards which could easily be bent to conform with the curve of the hull, and then another coat of tar.

This portion of the work was hardly completed when night came, and the laborers rested only long enough to partake of a hearty meal, prepared by Jim, after which the old sailor said:

"We are pretty nigh through, lads, an' it stands us in hand to finish the job while this calm lasts. We've got to brace our canvas on the inside so it'll stand a heavy sea without givin' way, an' we can work below in the night as well as after sunrise."

The air was so still that the flame of a candle would hardly have flickered, and the motion of the sea had subsided until the two crafts rose and fell without so much chafing as would even rub the paint. There was no reason why all hands, save one to stand watch, should not work in the hold, for they could be of no assistance on deck; and leaving Harry as lookout in case a steamer should pass within hailing distance, the remainder of the party followed the old sailor.

By tearing out the bulk-head of the Bonita's forecastle Bob secured such timbers as were needed, and with every one working industriously the task was completed before midnight.

A sort of frame-work had been erected on the side where the timbers were stove, and directly against the canvas. As a matter of course it was impossible to fasten this except at the ends, and a heavy sea would soon wrench it off; therefore, braces running up from the keelson and down from the deck were put in to hold the whole in place.

This was by no means a substantial job, as even the most inexperienced knew. In anything approaching stormy weather the tug would soon founder; but during such a "Dutchman's hurricane" as was now raging she would be as buoyant as when first launched.

That the water no longer made its way through the hull of the Sea Bird could be told from the fact that the siphon, which had been in constant use to keep the furnace from being flooded, now pumped her almost dry, and the old sailor announced as his belief that she was in fit condition to weather any thing save a full gale.

"We won't lose much time gettin' under way," he added, after an inspection had been made. "How soon can you raise steam?"

"There's half a head now," the engineer replied, "and in ten minutes we can start."

"Very well. While you are lookin' after the engine we'll get the hawsers out. The tug must tow alongside, unless the sea gets too high; for seein's how Jim an' me have got to do all the steerin', we're obliged to work it so's to catch a cat-nap now and then."

Joe Taylor went into the engine-room, and before he had raised the necessary pressure two stout hawsers were made fast fore and aft, while more fenders were lowered to prevent chafing.

"Are you goin' south any further?" Jim asked when the work was completed.

"No; we'll haul around an' steer due west, now that it don't matter which direction the wind comes from. Harry an' I'll take the first watch, so you an' Walt'd better turn in, for it's little sleep we'll get the balance of this cruise, even if we scoop in every spare minute."

Those comprising the watch below did not wait for this suggestion to be made a second time. The labor of the past fifteen hours had very nearly exhausted them, and their heads hardly touched the pillows before both were sleeping soundly.

By the arrangement Bob had made, Joe Taylor was the only one who could not be relieved from duty, and when the old sailor went to consult him as to how it would be possible to keep the tug running, he replied:

"We can fix that easily enough. I'll let you know when I can't keep my eyes open any longer, and then take cat-naps on one of the bunkers. If you ring the gong once every fifteen or twenty minutes I shall be awakened to see that everything is working properly. It's risky, I know; but under the circumstances there's nothing else that can be done."

Then he announced that there was a full head of steam, and Bob went into the pilot-house. The Bonita's helm had been lashed amidships, and, save in the event of very heavy weather, both crafts could readily be steered from the tug.

After explaining the bell signals to the old sailor Joe started the machinery, and for the time being all desire for slumber was driven from Harry's eyes by the pleasure of knowing that at last the brig was heading directly toward home.