Part 8 (1/2)
”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 a.s.sistant. 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 s.h.i.+p-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 s.h.i.+p-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 n.o.body to work her; Bob, as a remnant of the Trade Wind, an' now another feller with a sinkin' tug.