West Wind Drift Part 6

"Are you acquainted with Mrs. Spofford and her niece, Percival?" he inquired.

"Miss Clinton has done me the honour to remember meeting me night before last at the Alcazar Grand, sir. Mrs. Spofford is not so generous."

"I see," said Captain Trigger reflectively. "You will report at once to Mr. Gray. He will give you a less public job, as you call it." A twinkle came into his eyes. "He doesn't like the hat you're wearing. Nor the s.h.i.+rt. Nor the boots."

"Thank you, sir."

"And, by the way, Percival, as soon as you are slightly refurbished I want you to stroll through the second cabin and if possible identify the two stewards who came to No. 22. Let me see, was it during the day or at night?"

"Some time during the night, sir. Eleven or half-past, I should say."

"Very well."

An hour later he reported to Captain Trigger. "I have seen all of the stewards, sir, according to Mr. Codge, and I do not recognize any of them as the men who came to No. 22. I had a fairly good view of them, too, from beneath the lower berth. They spoke in a language I did not understand--"

"Do you understand German?"

"No, sir. I know it when I hear it, however. They were not speaking German. I may have been wrong, but I came to the conclusion that they were transferring some one to No. 22. They brought in two suitcases, and left them when they went out. I--"

Captain Trigger brought his clenched fist down on the table with a resounding, emphatic bang.

"Now, we have it! That Chicago detective is right, by gad!"

He turned to the small group of officers cl.u.s.tered behind him. Fresh alarm,--real consternation,--had leaped into the eyes of every man of them.

"Then--then, that means our search isn't over?" cried Mr. Mott, starting up.

"It does! Every inch of this s.h.i.+p,--every d.a.m.ned inch of it, from stem to stern. Overlook nothing, Mr. Mott. Don't delay a second."

Percival was alone with the agitated Captain an instant later. Trigger's eyes were rather wild and bloodshot. The younger man's face blanched. He knew now that the danger was real. He waited for the Captain to speak.

"Percival, the two men you saw in 22 were not stewards. They were the men who jumped overboard. You tell me they left two bags there when they went out of the room. Well, they were not there this morning when the regular steward went into the room. They have disappeared. But the contents of those bags are still somewhere on board this s.h.i.+p. And if they are not found in time, by gad, sir, we will all be in Kingdom Come before we know it."

CHAPTER IV.

The first explosion occurred at eleven minutes past six. The chart-house and part of the bridge were blown to pieces. Three dull, splintering crashes ensued in rapid succession, proving beyond question that the bombs were set to automatically explode at a given time. One of them wrecked the engine-room; another blew a great hole in the stern of the s.h.i.+p, above the water line; the third destroyed the wireless house and carried away a portion of the deck with it.

There were eight in all of these devilish machines in the heart of the Doraine. Some time prior to the first explosion, the feverish searchers had uncovered four of them, cunningly planted in the most vital parts of the s.h.i.+p. Two were taken from the lower hold, one at each end of the vessel, and two more were found close to the carefully protected section of the vessel in which a rather insignificant but deadly s.h.i.+pment of high explosives was stored.

The discovery of the four bombs and their immediate consignment to the sea saved the s.h.i.+p from being blown to bits. With another hour to spare, it is more than probable the remaining four would have been found, notwithstanding the amazing cleverness with which they were hidden, so thorough and so dogged was the search. Confusion, terror, stupefaction and finally panic followed the successive blasts. The decks were strewn with people prostrated by the violent upheavals, and many there were who never got up again. Stunned, dazed, bewildered, those who were able to do so scrambled to their feet only to be hurled down again and again.

Shrieks, groans, prayers,--and curses,--filled the brief, ghastly silences between the m.u.f.fled detonations. The great vessel surged and rolled and plunged like a tortured animal.

The splintering of wood, the rending of plates, the shattering of gla.s.s, and above all this horrid turmoil the mighty roaring and hissing of steam!... And the wild, gurgling cries of the frantic unfortunates who had leaped into the sea!

Out of the chaos with incredible swiftness came the paralysis of despair, and out of that slowly but surely groped the never-failing courage of the men who go down to the sea in s.h.i.+ps. Hoa.r.s.e commands lifted above the groans and prayers, and strong but shaken figures sprang with mechanical precision to the posts allotted them. Life-boat after life-boat went down into the sea that glistened with the slanting rays of an untroubled sun, low-lying at the end of day.

Fire broke out in several places. Down into the bowels of the s.h.i.+p plunged the resolute, undaunted heroes who remained behind, the chosen complement reserved for just such an emergency by the far-seeing master.

Above the hissing of steam and the first feeble cracklings of flame, rose the stentorian voice of the Captain from his post at the base of the demolished bridge.

"Fight, men! Fight! Fight! There are dying men below! Stand by! Fight for them!"

He was b.l.o.o.d.y and almost unrecognizable as he stood there clutching a stanchion for support. His legs were rigid, his body swayed, but his spirit was as staunch as the star that had guided him for fifty years through the trackless waste.

And while these doughty, desperate spirits fought the fire and smoke with every means at their command, down in the suffocating depths of the s.h.i.+p, braving not only the peril visible and at hand, but the prospect of annihilation in the event that a belated bomb projected its hideous force into the nest of high explosives,--while these men fought, the smiling, placid sea was alive with small white craft that bobbed in the gleaming sunlight, life-boats crowded to the gunwales with shuddering, bleak-eyed men, women and children waiting to pick up those who stayed behind, and who inevitably would be driven overboard by the resistless, conquering flames.

Cruising about at a safe distance from the menacing hull, these boats managed to rescue a few of the beings who had leaped overboard in the first mad panic of fear, but many there were who went down never to be seen again. No boat was without its wounded--and its dead; no boat was without its stricken, anxious-eyed survivors who watched and prayed for the salvation of loved ones left behind. With straining eyes they searched the surface of the sea, peered at the occupants of near and distant boats, stared at the scurrying figures on the decks of the smoking steamer, hoping,--always hoping,--and always sobbing out the endless prayer.

At last, as the sun sank below the blue-black horizon, exhausted, red-eyed, gasping men struggled up from the drenched, smothering interior of the s.h.i.+p, and hurled themselves, not into the sea, but p.r.o.ne upon the decks! They had conquered! The scattered, vagrant fires, attacked in their infancy, while still in the creeping stage, had been subdued.

Darkness fell. A chill night air stole out of the east, stealthily trailing the sun. Will-o'-the-wisp lights bespecked the sea, surrounding the black hulk that lay motionless in the center of the circle. Lanterns in a score or more of small boats bobbed fitfully in the gentle swell.

Presently lights appeared on board the Doraine, one here, one there, then others in twos and threes,--some of them stationary, others moving slowly from place to place. The life-boats crept closer, still closer.

Then, out from the silent hulk, came the voice of man. It was the voice of the First Officer, hoa.r.s.e and unrecognizable, but sharp with authority. Other voices repeated the commands from various parts of the s.h.i.+p,--commands to the encircling will-o'-the-wisps.

The word came down to the scores who filled the boats that they were to lie by until sunrise, keeping in close contact with each other and at no great distance from the s.h.i.+p. The most thorough, careful examination of the steamer was in progress. If it was found that she was in no danger of foundering,--and the word was most rea.s.suring,--all of them would be taken aboard in the morning. Nothing could be done at present. A few hours more would tell the tale.

And then, for the first time since the disaster, the note of the croaker was heard. Each and every boat contained at least one individual who knew exactly what ought to be done in a crisis like this.

Mr. Landover addressed the benumbed, unresisting occupants of the boat into which he had climbed with commendable reluctance as one of the last persons to leave the s.h.i.+p.

"Why don't they begin sending out S. O. S. calls? What's the wireless for, if not to be used at a time like this? Say, you! Yell up there to some of those d.a.m.ned muddled-headed idiots and tell them what to do.

Tell them that I say for them to send out calls for help. What's that?

What did you say?"

The steward in charge of the boat repeated his remark and Mr. Landover at once said he would report him to Captain Trigger.

"But it won't do any good," complained the banker despairingly. "Captain Trigger hasn't got the backbone of a fishworm. He'd let you tell him to go to h.e.l.l and never think of jacking you up for it. No wonder we're in the fix we're in now. If he'd had the sense of a jelly-fish he'd have--Here! Sit still! You'll upset the boat, you fool! What--What are you going to do with that oar?"

"I'm going to crack you over the bean with it if you don't take back what you said about Captain Trigger," said the steward, very earnestly.

"Take it back, do you hear me?"

"My G.o.d, would you murder me for a little thing like that?"

Mr. Nicklestick aroused himself from the torpor of despair.

"Take it back, Mr. Landover,--please do. If he misses you, he'll get me sure, it's so dark, and so help me G.o.d, I got nothing but the deepest respect for Captain Trigger. He's a vonderful man, steward. Don't make any mistake. You hear me say he is a vonderful man? Veil,--"

"Oh, shut up, Nicklestick," grated Landover, crouching down behind the gentleman addressed.

The steward sat down. "I'd do it in a minute if it wasn't for the women an' children in this boat."

"I intend to have every officer on that steamer arrested for criminal negligence the instant I set foot in New York," boomed the banker. "I call upon every one of you, my fellow-pa.s.sengers, to testify to the utter lack of precaution taken by the men in charge of that s.h.i.+p. And what effort are they making to bring help to us now? By gad, if I was in command of that vessel I'd be shooting wireless calls to every--Great Scott! What's that?"