Part 41 (2/2)

”A great deal,” was the reply. ”s.h.i.+pmasters know the dangers of Cape Horn and give it a wide berth--though steamers nowadays generally use the Straits of Magellan--but Cape Hatteras is different. It juts right out in the path of vessels running down the coast so that a s.h.i.+p makes almost a right angle at that point.”

”It's a wonder they don't build a lighthouse out on the shoals.”

”It can't be done,” said the other, shaking his head. ”The contract was awarded once, but the project fell through. The builder found it impossible to carry it out. There's a New York firm that has been after the Lighthouse Department for a long time to get a contract for the building of a lighthouse on the shoals of Hatteras, but it wants four million dollars, and the government thinks that a bit steep. A first-cla.s.s lights.h.i.+p can be kept in commission on the station for a fraction of that sum.”

”But is a lights.h.i.+p just as good?”

”N-no,” the other answered dubiously, ”a lights.h.i.+p, as such, is not as good as a lighthouse, supposing both were at the same point. But a lights.h.i.+p can always be placed in a more advantageous position than a lighthouse, and in places where a lighthouse is impossible, a lights.h.i.+p is invaluable. I should be inclined to say that the Diamond Shoals Lights.h.i.+p off Cape Hatteras, the Frying Pan Shoals Lights.h.i.+p off Cape Fear and the Nantucket Shoals Lights.h.i.+p off Montauk Point would take rank as three of the most important lights.h.i.+ps in the world.”

”But I should think they would get blown off their stations every once in a while,” suggested Eric.

”They do,” said the other; ”not very often, but they do.”

”Then what happens?”

”They steam back to their station and lie to as near it as possible. At one time lights.h.i.+ps used to be without any kind of propelling machinery, and sometimes they were driven ash.o.r.e. That happened to a German lights.h.i.+p at the mouth of the Elbe, not so long ago, and all the crew were lost.”

”The Columbia River lights.h.i.+p went adrift, too, I remember,” said the boy; ”they had to haul her back through the woods in order to get her floated again and taken to her station.”

”Exactly,” said his friend, ”that was another case of a lights.h.i.+p not having her own steam. It's not only to enable a lights.h.i.+p keeping to her station, or running to safety in the event of being blown off her moorings, but you can see that in a severe storm, if a lights.h.i.+p can steam ahead into the eye of the wind, she can take a lot of the strain off her anchors. To tell you the truth, it's my private opinion that the Diamond Shoals Lights.h.i.+p will need to-night every pound of steam she can get. Look for'ard!”

The lieutenant pointed with his finger. The _Miami_, starting off to help the disabled steamer in trouble, had turned her stern to the easy anchorage and safe haven not more than two miles away, and was headed for the open sea. Still under the lee of Cape Fear, the force of the wind was greatly moderated and the sea was not more than ordinarily rough. But where the lieutenant pointed, it was easy to see that the storm was raging in its full fury. The waves were running high, their crests whipped into spray by the gusts.

”You're right, sir,” Eric agreed, ”we're in for it! And, what's more, here it comes now!”

Almost with the word the _Miami_ got into the full reach of the storm, halted, gave a convulsive stagger, than plunged into the smother. For a minute or two no one on deck could have told what had happened. The shriek of the hurricane through her cordage, the harsh roaring of the tempest-whipped sea, and the vengeful boom of the waves as they threw their tons of water on the deck of the st.u.r.dy vessel made the senses reel.

But the engines of the _Miami_ throbbed on steadily in defiance of the tempest's fury. The Coast Guard cutter, like every member of her crew, was picked for service, for stern and exalted service. Hurricanes might hurl their monstrous strength upon her, eager billows might s.n.a.t.c.h at her with their crus.h.i.+ng gripe, shoals and reefs might hunger greedily with foam-flecked fangs, still the _Miami_ plowed on through the storm.

From realms unknown where the elements hold council of discord, the forces of destruction launched themselves upon her, but the white s.h.i.+p of rescue steadily steamed on, with her lights quietly burning and her officers and crew going about their duties in calm and perfect confidence.

Morning broke with that blue-gray veiling of the world in a covering of storm that sailors know so well. It was one of those mornings when the best of s.h.i.+ps looks worn and drazzled. The _Miami_ showed scars from her night's battle with the tempest. One of the starboard boats had been stove in, and the davits twisted with the force of a wave that had come aboard. Even the most rigid discipline and the most perfect order failed to make the little vessel trim. There was an ”out all night” appearance to the cutter which told--more than great actual damage could have done--the dogged endurance of the vessel against the fury of wind and sea.

But, down in the engine-room, the unceasing metal fingers that are the children of men's brains throbbed steadily, and the screw of the little vessel drove her on to her work of rescue. On deck, the Coast Guard men, clear-eyed and determined, handled their day's routine with a sublime disregard of the dangers of the sea. Other vessels might scurry to safe harbors, but the _Miami_, flying the colors of Uncle Sam, set out on her mission to save, with never a moment's halting.

On the _Miami_ drove. Presently, the crow's-nest lookout reported a steamer. She was one of the big West Indian liners, and she came reeling towards the cutter with lurchings that were alarming to behold. Only a certain quick jauntiness of recovery told the tale that she, too, was confident of her powers to weather the storm. She called by wireless that she had pa.s.sed the disabled steamer _Union_ two hours before, that the vessel was dragging her anchors and was in too shoal water for the liner to attempt a rescue.

”She's going to strike, sure,” said Eric to his friend Homer, as the news of the message was received.

”And going right over the Diamond Shoals. How would you like to have charge of the _Miami_ now, Eric?”

The boy looked thoughtful.

”A year or two ago,” he answered, ”when I was in the Academy, I'd have been tickled to death at the chance. Right now, when I think I know a bit more, I'm quite satisfied to have Keelson on the bridge. I notice the captain's been around a good bit, too.”

”Our chief has been on the job below nearly all night, as well,” Homer replied. ”I'm thinking, Eric, that this is about as bad weather as any vessel can live through!”

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