Part 20 (2/2)

”Oh, some time to-night,” answered the youngest Rover.

”Mine cracious! Ve peen all killed asleep!” groaned Hans. ”Say, I d.i.n.k I ton't go py der ped, not me!” he added, earnestly.

At that moment came a cry from the deck. It was followed by a thump and a crash that threw all of the boys flat on the floor of the cabin of the steamer.

CHAPTER XV

THE CASTAWAYS OF THE GULF

”It vos der earthkvake!” yelled Hans, as he scrambled to his feet.

”Der oceans vos all busted up alretty! Safe me!” And he ran for the cabin doorway.

”We must have struck something in the fog!” cried d.i.c.k, as he, too, arose. ”Oh!”

Another crash had come, heavier than the first, and the _Mascotte_ careened far over to port. Then came wild screams from the deck, followed by orders delivered in rapid succession. All in a moment the pa.s.sengers were in a panic, asking what had been struck and if the steamer was going down.

The Rovers and their friends tried to make their way on deck, but another shock threw Fred and Songbird back into the cabin and partly stunned them. Then Harold Bird ran to his stateroom, to get a pocketbook containing his money.

Out on the deck all was misty, the lights gleaming faintly through the darkness. To one side loomed up another steamer, of the ”tramp”

variety, heavily laden with a miscellaneous cargo from Central American ports.

”The _Mascotte_ is going down!” was the cry, as the steamer gave a suspicious lurch. Then came another crash, and before he knew it d.i.c.k Rover went spinning over the side, into the dark and misty waters of the gulf!

It was certainly a time of extreme peril, and had not poor d.i.c.k kept his wits about him he must surely have been drowned. Down he went over his head and it was fully quarter of a minute before he came to the surface once more, spluttering and clas.h.i.+ng the water from his eyes. He looked around, felt something hard hit him, and then went under once more.

He knew he was near the bottom of some s.h.i.+p and held his breath as long as possible. When he again arose it was to gasp for air. Now he was free of the s.h.i.+p, and the rolling waters of the Gulf of Mexico lay all around him.

His first impulse was to cry out for help, and again and again he raised his voice. But the confusion on board the _Mascotte_ and the other steamer was so great that n.o.body heard him, or, at least, paid any attention.

d.i.c.k strained his eyes and could make out the steamer lights dimly.

He was about to yell again, when something floated near and struck him down once again. But as he came up he caught at the object and held fast to it. It was a large crate, empty, and with considerable difficulty he climbed on top.

”This is better than nothing,” he thought. And then, catching his breath, he set up a long and l.u.s.ty cry, in the meantime watching with a sinking heart the lights of both steamers as they faded from view.

A quarter of an hour pa.s.sed--it seemed much longer to poor d.i.c.k,--and the lights disappeared entirely. His heart sank like lead in his bosom.

”They won't come back for me now,” he reasoned. ”Perhaps the steamboat is sinking and the others have enough to do to think of saving themselves.”

The crate d.i.c.k was upon was not extra large, and it merely allowed him to keep his head and shoulders out of water. Fortunately the night was not cold, so he suffered little from his involuntary bath.

But he realized the seriousness of his situation and was correspondingly sober.

”I must be a good way from land,” he reasoned. ”I'll have my own troubles saving myself, even if the mist clears away.”

Another quarter of an hour went by and then d.i.c.k thought he heard voices. He strained his ears.

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