Part 40 (1/2)

”I was right on my course,” the skipper growled. ”That's what makes me so sore. But when I pa.s.sed Cross Keys light, I thought I must have figured wrong. I never stopped to think why the light was nearly a quarter of a degree from where she should have been by my reckoning, and I changed my course by that.”

”Well?”

”One of my men heard those chicken-livered black-hided cowards laughing to themselves about the way they fooled vessels with their 'patent light.'”

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SIGNAL OF DISTRESS THAT WAS NEVER SEEN.

The missing lifeboat from the burned steamer, Columbian, abandoned. Note the coat at the masthead.

Courtesy of U.S. Coast Guard.]

”You mean that the wreckers have put up a false light to lead vessels on to the reefs?”

”It's that decoy light that brought me here,” said the skipper, ”and if you hadn't come when you did, I reckon every one of us would have had our throats cut and the vessel would have been skinned by this time.”

CHAPTER XII

THE GRAVEYARD OF THE DEEP

Following on the information given by the captain of the Norwegian steamer, which had so nearly been looted by wreckers, the _Miami_ started on a search for the decoy light that had led that steamer to her fate. The captain was an able navigator, and, until the moment he had seen the false light and been led astray by it, he had been absolutely upon his right course. Under such circ.u.mstances it was not difficult to find the lat.i.tude and longitude where the captain reported having first seen the light. He had also given the bearing in the log, so the _Miami_ crept slowly forward in the direction indicated, heaving the lead constantly for treacherous shoals.

From where the captain of the steamer had cited his position there was not a single sign of a lighthouse or a light. But, as the _Miami_ crept on, far out of the regular s.h.i.+p's channel, as suddenly as though it had been just placed there, rose a spar, held in place with three wire stays. On the top was a little round platform, not more than a foot across, and spikes had been driven into the mast to act as a ladder by which to climb it. The _Miami_ was almost on the tiny outcrop of rock before the mast was visible. It was painted a watery blue, which merged in with the color of both sea and sky, and was exceedingly difficult to see.

A boat's crew was sent ash.o.r.e to demolish the mast and also to make a search for the light. To Eric, who went ash.o.r.e with the men, it was quite an exciting hunt, ”almost like looking for Captain Kidd's treasure,” as he said afterwards to his chum, the young lieutenant of engineers. The quest was in vain, for though every inch of the islet was searched, there was no sign that the ground had been disturbed. So far as that went, there was very little ground to disturb, for the islet was little more than a coral rock, nearly covered at high tide. It was evident that the wreckers, when they were ready for their work, brought the light with them.

As the light for which the decoy was intended to be a subst.i.tute was quite a powerful light, with a regular occulting flash, the decoy itself must be powerful, and the _Miami_ was anxious to trace it. If the native wreckers had such a lantern in their possession, probably they had some kind of clockwork and could alter the occultation of their decoy so that it would duplicate any one of several different lights on the coast.

It was not until some time afterwards that the Lighthouse Service learned that there actually had been such a light in the hands of the wreckers at one time. In a quarrel among themselves, however, over the division of the spoils of a small schooner which had run ash.o.r.e, one of the disgruntled wreckers had thrown the lantern overboard in deep water.

”I hadn't supposed there was anything of that sort going on now, sir,”

said Eric to one of the junior lieutenants, discussing the question of the wreckers' lights.

”Nor had I,” was the rejoinder. ”The business of being a wrecker has changed a good deal. There's plenty of it, still, but it has become a recognized profession. A wrecker, now, has offices in a big seaport, with a fleet of ocean-going tugs and a big bank-roll. When a s.h.i.+p is reported ash.o.r.e, either her owners pay him to float her, or he buys the wreck outright and takes his chances of being able to recover the purchase price. If luck is with him, he may get a good s.h.i.+p and cargo cheap, but if fortune frowns and a storm breaks her up before he can save the cargo, then he suffers a heavy loss. It's a good business, but a big gamble.”

”I should think there was a lot of excitement in that business, yet!”

”Yes, there is. But it is organized now and wonderfully handled commercially. It's only in places like these outlying fringes of the Bahamas, that the native wrecker--the one who lives by robbery and loot--can still be found. In the old days, a decoy light was a regular thing. There were organizations that had offices in the cities, who used to make a business of this wrecking. Barnegat, New Jersey, was a famous point in the first part of last century. All the inhabitants were in league with the wreckers, there. Many and many a good vessel, in the early days of American s.h.i.+pping, was lured directly on to the treacherous beach, while the wreckers looted everything they could get, and plundered the pa.s.sengers and crew. That's all done away with now.

The United States coast is too thoroughly patrolled by the Coast Guard for any such business as that to flourish.

”I think the Wolf Rock story is perhaps the best example of the idea of deliberately wrecking vessels. You've heard of Wolf Rock?”

”Yes, sir,” said the boy, ”it's in the English Channel, off the coast of Devons.h.i.+re.”

”Did you ever hear why that particular rock was called Wolf Rock?”

”No, sir,” answered Eric, ”I don't think I ever did. Is it because of the shape of it, or because the sea breaking over it is like the fangs of a wolf or something like that? There generally isn't an awful lot of reason for the names of rocks and reefs.”