The Radio Boys at Ocean Point: or, The Message that Saved the Ship

Dr. Dale and his party were fairly good sailors, however, and they stayed in a corner of the deck that they had preëmpted, and discussed the various happenings during the trip. Everybody had had an enjoyable time, and they could look back and think of a dozen pleasant incidents that had made the tour one to be remembered in after years.

“I think it was nothing short of an inspiration that led you to propose this trip, Doctor Dale,” said Mrs. Layton. “I anticipated a good time, but I never imagined that it could be half so enjoyable as it has turned out to be.”

“It has indeed been a memorable one,” agreed the doctor. “In fact, it has been so very successful that I think we should take others from time to time. The change is good for all of us, too. Mrs. Dale claims to feel infinitely better than when we started, and I am sure we can all say the same thing.”

“Yes, indeed,” agreed Mrs. Plummer. “I hope the weather will continue as perfect as it has been so far, although it doesn’t look very promising just at present.”

“It has clouded over rather rapidly,” said the doctor, surveying the gloomy sky. “But I hardly imagine it will amount to anything. It is very unlikely that we shall have a storm at this time of year, you know.”

Even as he spoke a sharp puff of wind blew across the decks, whistled in the rigging, and died away. A few minutes later another gust came, this time a little stronger, and before they fairly realized it, a brisk breeze was blowing. Meanwhile, the cloudiness had deepened, and the sea was beginning to rise. Under the lowering sky the ocean turned a dull gray color, flecked by little white caps as the breeze continually freshened.

By the time the dinner gong sounded, the little party was glad to go below decks out of the wind, which had a raw edge to it. The boat was now rolling and pitching considerably, and there was a comparatively scanty gathering around the long tables. Conversation was rather limited, and immediately after dinner the ladies of the party retired to their staterooms.

Dr. Dale and Mr. Layton went up on deck again, and they were astonished at the change which had taken place even in the short time they had been below.

The wind had risen to a gale, and was driving before it big rolling seas crested with foam. The vessel plowed into these, at times plunging her bows completely under and sending a flood of green water back over her decks as she rose and shook herself free of the weight of water. Life lines had been rigged about the decks, and without these it would have been almost impossible to get about at all. The doctor and Mr. Layton and a few other men sought the lee of a deck house, where they gazed out over the wild waste of waters with astonishment not unmixed with alarm. Still, they knew that their ship was a staunch one and that they had little to fear unless some unforeseen accident took place.

All that afternoon the ship wallowed and plunged through the angry seas, her speed reduced until she had only enough to keep her head into the wind. At times the stern would rise high in the air, until the propeller was lifted clear of the water, whereupon the engines would race madly for a few seconds before the stern went down and the propeller bit into the water once more. Everything moveable about the decks had been lashed down, or it would have been over the side long ago.

Darkness came early over the tossing waste of waters, and the men retired to the snug smoking room, where they discussed the storm in a desultory manner.

Those who felt so inclined had just risen to go to the dining room for supper when they were thrown back into their chairs by a shock that caused the vessel to shiver from stem to stern. It seemed to hesitate and stand still for a moment, and then started on again as though nothing had happened. Excited voices and footsteps were heard all over the ship, and those in the smoking room gazed at one another in consternation.

A few minutes later the engines stopped, and as her steerage-way slackened the great vessel fell into the trough of the waves, where she rolled and wallowed in a helpless manner.

“We’d better go and look after the ladies,” said Dr. Dale. “I’m afraid something serious has happened.”

Dr. Dale and Mr. Layton made their way with all possible speed to the staterooms occupied by the ladies, whom they found grouped together in the corridor anxiously awaiting their arrival.

Meanwhile events were moving quickly on the ship’s bridge and in her wireless room. TheHorolusa had struck a derelict, floating awash with the surface of the sea, and a big rent had been torn in her bows. The ship’s officers realized at once the serious nature of the accident. The pumps were set going and the wireless man was instructed to send a call for assistance. For what seemed an age he repeated the S. O. S. call without receiving any answer, but at last his receiver buzzed, and he listened eagerly for the answer. But at once a puzzled look came over his face, and he turned to his fellow wireless man.

“Whoever’s answering our message gives the call of the Ocean Point station, and yet it can’t be either of the regular radio men there,” he said. “This message is being sent by an amateur, I’ll swear to that.”

“Sounds that way,” the other agreed, after listening to the head set a moment. “But you can tell by the strength of the signals that it can’t be just an amateur station. Possibly the regular operator is away or sick, and some amateur has taken his place.”

“Well, he says he will relay our call, anyway,” said the other. “Amateur or not, he seems to be on the job and doing the best he can for us. And Heaven knows we need all the help we can get, because we’re in a bad way.”

The Horolusa was indeed in sore straits. Her bow had settled low in the water and the big waves broke over it continually. The crew had made several attempts to launch the lifeboats, but the vessel was rolling so badly that they were smashed to splinters against her sides before they could reach the water. The wind howled wildly around the superstructure and in the rigging, and it was also raining heavily, soaking the shivering passengers to the skin as they stood huddled about the decks. Life preservers had been handed about and nearly everybody wore one of these.

High up in the wireless cabin the two operators could hear the call for help flashing out loud and clear from the powerful land station as it was repeated over and over by the unknown sender there. Little did Bob’s father and mother suspect that their son was aware of their peril and was trying desperately to save their lives and those of the hundreds of other passengers on the big ship.

At last, after what seemed an interminable time to the anxious wireless men, they heard an answering call from some ship laboring through the black and stormy night, and a little while later they heard still another ship promise to go to their assistance.

“Glory be!” they exclaimed, in unison. “I hope they’re not far away,” said one. “I’m afraid the old Horolusa has taken her last voyage. If the forward bulkhead gives way, she’ll go down like a shot.”

“They can’t make much speed in a sea like this, either,” said the other anxiously. “But I see the YS station has stopped sending. I guess he must have heard those boats promise to come to our help. And they sure can’t get here a bit too soon.”

The Horolusa was indeed in a desperate condition. Below decks the engineer force was laboring mightily to brace the forward bulkhead so that it would stand against the tremendous pressure of the water without. The bulkhead was sagging inward, and even as the men labored they could see flakes of paint come off the iron as it bent inward. It took the highest kind of courage to work in the face of such peril, because they knew if the bulkhead once gave way they would be drowned under tons of water without any chance whatever to escape. They braced big timbers against the frail wall that meant the only barrier between them and instant death.

“I guess that’s about all we can do, men,” said the chief engineer at length. “I’ll call for a few volunteers to stay below and keep the pumps running, and the rest of you had better get up on deck. She’s likely to go at any minute.”

A few hardy souls volunteered, and the rest swarmed up the long iron ladders, thankful to get away from the awful menace of that bulging bulkhead. Arrived on deck, they found conditions there little better than those they had just left below. Several of the lifeboats had been wrecked by big seas, and the remainder had been stove in when the crew attempted to lower them down the side.

Dr. Dale’s little party kept together, and they all did the best they could to encourage each other. The passengers had been informed that two vessels were coming to their assistance, but even to the inexperienced eye of a landsman it was evident that the Horolusa was settling steadily lower in the water. Big seas broke constantly over her bows and encroached further and further up the sloping decks as the passengers were driven steadily toward the stern. The ship’s officers passed about the decks, keeping order and doing the best they could to reassure the passengers. The captain had ordered rockets sent off from the bridge, and these soared aloft at intervals and cast a momentary light over the wild and endless succession of mountainous waves that seemed like a victorious army marching on a helpless city.

Dr. Dale offered up an earnest prayer for their safe deliverance from this terrible peril, in which all those within hearing joined; and it seemed indeed as though nothing short of divine interposition could save them from a watery grave.

The clank of the pumps resounded through the ship and sounded to the passengers like the knell of doom. The crew worked in relays, and as fast as one shift had toiled to the verge of exhaustion another group took their places. They worked with the energy of desperation, for they knew that they were fighting for their own lives as well as for those of the passengers.

In the meantime the engineers were risking their lives a dozen times over in trying to patch up the rent in the damaged bow of the boat. Some of them had been lowered over the side by means of ropes, and the sea dashed over them constantly as they sought to cover the rent with heavy canvas. If this could be done successfully it would keep out the bulk of the water, and the pumps might be able to keep the vessel going until the promised help arrived.

That help seemed an endless time in coming, but at length the captain’s night glasses caught sight of a point of light upon the waves. It came nearer and nearer until it became evident that a ship was bearing down upon them. A great rocket soared into the air in answer to those sent up by the Horolusa, and in the light from it could be seen the outline of a large steamer that changed its course and swept around until it was parallel with the Horolusa and yet at a sufficient distance to prevent the vessels being driven into each other.

The roar of the storm prevented any call being heard from one captain to the other, but down in the wireless room the operators were busy and a plan of action was agreed upon. By this time the patch of sail had been fastened over the hole in the bow of the Horolusa, and she had ceased to settle in the water. With the sea shut out from the bow, the pumps speedily cleared out the water that was already in the hold of the ship and she was perceptibly rising in the water. If the patch held, the vessel might still be saved, or at least kept afloat until the sea calmed down, when permanent repairs could be made.

As the fate of the Horolusa’s lifeboats had proved that it was impossible for small boats to live in such a sea, it was arranged that theFalcon as the rescuing vessel was named, would stand by until morning or until the storm abated, and then either take the Horolusa’s passengers aboard or try to help the vessel itself into port.

Two hours later the lights of another vessel loomed above the horizon and the steamerEsperanto came hurrying to help. She too offered to stand by and give every assistance in her power.

The relief of the passengers of the Horolusa, who for hours had been gazing into the very eyes of death, were beyond the power of words to express. When Dr. Dale, who had visited the wireless room, came back to report that the S. O. S. message that had brought the two vessels to their aid had been relayed from Ocean Point the wonder of those from Clintonia broke out in exclamations.

“And a curious thing,” the doctor added, “is that the operators feel sure that the call was sent by amateurs. There was something about it – something halting, uncertain – that made them sure it didn’t come from a professional. Perhaps – who knows? – it may have been Bob or Joe whose message saved the ship!”

“If we are really saved,” came with a shudder from Mrs. Layton. “If only the storm were over!”

“And we were safe on land,” added Mrs. Plummer.

She had scarcely spoken when the steamer gave a mighty heave and they heard the rush of water over her bow.

“We’re sinking! We’re sinking!” came a scream from one frightened passenger.

“Not yet,” added another quickly. “But it looks mighty bad.”

CHAPTER XXIII – FROM THE JAWS OF DEATH

It was in a tumult of excitement that the radio boys started out to run down Dan Cassey, who they felt sure was the rascal who had assaulted Brandon Harvey and robbed the safe. They were, too, in a frenzy of apprehension about the fate of their parents and friends out on the stormy sea.

Still they had been relieved to some extent by the assurances that vessels were hastening over the wild wastes of water to the help of the imperiled ship and by the knowledge that all had been done that could be done under the circumstances. It seemed to them that it was now clearly their duty to assist in the running down of a criminal who had made such a dastardly attack upon one of their best friends.

Their task was made the harder by the blackness of the night and the fury of the storm. The gale had risen in violence until it had reached nearly a hundred miles an hour. It buffeted them about, and at times turned them completely around. Fortunately the sand was sodden with rain, otherwise the boys would have been choked and blinded by the flying particles.

But the rain that helped them in this respect hindered them in another, for it drenched their clothes and made them cling close to their skins so that rapid progress was made almost impossible.

“Never mind, fellows,” Bob shouted. “The same things that are bothering us are bothering Cassey too. But there’s no use in our all sticking close together. Let’s spread out like a fan, and if one of us doesn’t come across him, another may. The first fellow that catches sight of him can let out a shout and we’ll all close in. Come ahead now, fellows. Speed’s the word.”

They set out with redoubled determination and made their way the best they could against the fury of the elements. The din created by the roaring of the gale and the thunderous beating of the surf upon the beach was beyond description. It was like the roar of a dozen Niagaras, and fairly deafened the boys as they plowed along with heads down against the storm. And if it was as terrible as this on land, where at least they were safe, what must it be on the howling waste where was tossing at this moment the crippled ship that held their loved ones.

In the mind of each was that same vision – that ship a mere speck on the mighty waters, as helpless as a bird with a broken wing, utterly at the mercy of the giant of the storm.

Yet not utterly, thank God! The wonderful radio had flashed its message through the black night, had reached out over the mighty waves, had gone to one ship and said “Come,” had gone to still another and said “Come,” perhaps to still another and still another, always with the same message “Come! A comrade is in danger. I’ll lead you to him. Come! Come quickly!”

And one gallant ship had heard and answered; and still another had heard and turned its prow in the direction of the sinking vessel, and by this time perhaps others were tearing through the waves toward the helpless craft that the ocean threatened to engulf.

This was the hope that buoyed up the comrades and kept them from despair as they hurried as fast as they could through the Egyptian darkness of the night.

The path that they were following, or rather the direction in which they were going – for in that blackness no path could be seen – was toward the bungalow colony, beyond which lay the town. It was their plan to go straight on to the town, if they were not successful in coming up with Cassey before they got there, and send out a description of the scoundrel to all nearby towns and warn the authorities to be on the alert to apprehend him.

Between the radio station and the bungalow colony was a little inlet into which the sea ebbed and flowed with the movement of the tide. It was from fifty to sixty feet wide, and a bridge stretched across it at a height of twenty feet above the water.

The inlet, or cove, was a comparatively quiet place and was much frequented by the boys, and indeed all the members of the bungalow colony, for fishing and paddling about in rowboats and canoes, craft that would have been too frail for the open sea.

“Must be getting pretty near the bridge, don’t you think, fellows?” asked Bob, after they had got some distance from the radio station.

“Seems so to me,” replied Joe. “Though in this darkness you can hardly see your hand before your face.”

“We’ve got to be mighty careful and watch our step, or one of us will be tumbling in,” said Herb. “And while I’m fond enough of bathing as a rule, I want to go in of my own accord.”

“I guess we’ll have to depend on our ears instead of our eyes to warn us when we’re getting close,” replied Joe. “And from what I think I hear, our ears will be quite sufficient. Listen!”

The boys stood still for a moment, and then they all heard a sibilant, shrill, hissing sound that was entirely distinct from the beating of the surf along the shore.

“That’s something new,” remarked Bob. “We didn’t hear that when we came from the colony a little while ago.”

“No,” replied Joe. “But in the meantime the ocean has been getting in its work and has forced its way into the inlet. From the sound, the water’s rushing through there like a mill race. And it’s all the fiercer because the channel is so narrow. I guess Herb was right when he said we’d have to watch our step.”

“Let’s all keep close together until we’ve got on the other side,” suggested Bob. “It seems to me that I can see the outline of the bridge just a little way ahead.”

By advancing slowly, step at a time, they found their way to the entrance to the bridge and Bob heaved a sigh of relief as his hand rested on the railing.

“Here we are all right,” he said. “Now follow close in Indian file.”

“The inlet has surely gone on a rampage,” Joe remarked. “Just hear the way the water goes tearing along. And from the sound it isn’t so far below the level of the bridge. Don’t let’s dawdle, fellows. I for one will feel a mighty sight better when we get on the other side.”

The others felt the same way, and all quickened their steps. Nor was their apprehension allayed by the way the bridge shook and quivered beneath their feet.

They had nearly reached the middle of the span when an ominous cracking was heard.

“Quick, fellows, quick!” shouted Bob. “The bridge is breaking. Run for your lives!”

He sprang forward like a deer and the others followed him pell-mell. They could feel the bridge giving way beneath them, and the hiss of the water was drowned by the horrid roar of crashing timbers. One last frantic rush and they cleared the bridge and felt the solid ground beneath their feet.

They were not an instant too soon. Even as their feet left the planking there was a splintering crash and the bridge parted in the middle. The ends still clung to the abutments on either side, but the central portions fell into the stream, where they were swung to and fro by the force of the current so violently that it seemed that but a short time would elapse before the ends also would be torn loose from the banks and the whole structure swept down toward the sea.

Cold chills chased each other up and down the boys’ spines as they realized what a narrow escape they had had from being engulfed in those raging waters.

“That was a close call,” panted Bob, as he took out his handkerchief and wiped the perspiration from his face.

“I’ll tell the world it was,” agreed Joe.

“Another five minutes, yes, another five seconds, and we’d have gone down with it,” said Herb. “And I hate to think what it would mean to be fighting for life in that whirlpool.”

“Well, we didn’t go down, thank Heaven,” rejoined Bob. “And a miss is as good as a mile. But where’s Jimmy?” he asked suddenly, as he saw that only two were standing beside him.

“Why, he must be right around here,” replied Joe, peering into the darkness on either side. “I suppose he’s sitting down for a minute to get his breath. Jimmy,” he called.

There was no answer.

An awful fear clutched at the boys’ hearts.

“He’s trying to scare us,” ventured Herb, but without much conviction in his tones.

“Jimmy! Jimmy!” called Bob. “Don’t frighten us, old scout. Where are you?”

Again that dead, terrible silence.

Then, so thin and weak that it sounded as though from a great way off, they heard Jimmy’s voice.

“Help! Help!”

“He’s down in the water,” cried Joe.

“He didn’t get off the bridge in time,” Herb shrieked, in an agony of apprehension.

The three boys rushed to the bank and peered down into the dense darkness where the only light they could discern came from the white spray that crested the waves of the raging torrent.

“Jimmy!” Bob shouted at the top of his voice. “Where are you?”

“I’m down here in the water,” came Jimmy’s voice. “I’m holding on to the broken end of the bridge. But I can’t hold on much longer. Hurry up, fellows, or I’m a goner.”

The boys were frantic with excitement.

“Hold on, Jimmy!” yelled Bob. “Hold on, for the love of Pete! We’ll get you!”

But how?

The broken part of the bridge hung almost perpendicularly for a distance of nearly twenty feet before it reached the water. The rain had made it as slippery as glass. The end on the bank was grinding at its supports and threatened every moment to tear loose and fall into the stream.

All these things Bob took in, in a flash.

“There’s only one way,” he said grimly. “And I’m going to take it. I’m going to work my way down and try to get him.”

“Let me go,” put in Joe, but Bob was off before any one could stop him.

He threw himself down flat on the bridge and began to work his way down backward on his hands and knees. The slope was so steep that it was like going down a ladder, with the difference that with a ladder he would have had rungs on which he could have planted his feet solidly, while here he had to dig his fingers and toes into every crevice he could find to keep himself from sliding down into the abyss of waters. Foot by foot, with infinite care and caution, he let himself down, keeping his eyes shut so that the sight of the madly racing waters beneath him should not make him dizzy and force him to let go his hold.

“I’m coming!” he shouted. “Hold on. I’m coming. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“I’ll try to, but my arm is getting numb,” answered Jimmy. “Hurt it when I went down, I guess. My fingers are slipping. Hurry.”

A flash of lightning came just then, and Bob, looking over his shoulder, caught a glimpse of Jimmy’s face, usually so ruddy, but now ghastly white. His body was in the water and swung to and fro, while one hand clung desperately to a part of the broken bridge railing from which the waves were trying to wrench him.

“I’m going,” cried Jimmy despairingly. “Oh, Bob, hurry!”

“Hold on,” shouted Bob. “Hold on just one second more!”

He reached his comrade just as Jimmy’s cramped fingers were torn from their support. Like lightning, Bob’s arm shot out and grasped Jimmy’s wrist.

“I’ve got you, old boy,” he shouted. “Just try to keep your head above water and I’ll pull you out.”