Part 2

Staggering like a drunken man the great mate lounged forward, his bloodshot eyes distended, and his breath coming in loud rasping gasps, a little thin trickle of blood running from his nose and mingling with the salt water pouring down his face. Men seized him and tried to hold him up, but he plunged headlong upon the deck and lay still.

It was nearly half an hour later before he opened his eyes and looked about him. All hands were around him, some rubbing his huge limbs and others standing looking on, waiting to do what the captain might direct. Then he came slowly to and rose unsteadily to his feet. There was a feeling of relief and the men talked. The captain asked questions and plied his mate with whiskey.

The giant black stood gazing out to sea, trying to realize what had happened, and while he looked he saw a thin trail of smoke rising upon the southern horizon. He pointed to it without saying anything, and all hands saw it and stopped in their work to stare.

"It's the wreckin' tug from Key West," said the captain. "No more divin' to-day. Jest our bloomin' luck. Nothin' to hinder us from doin' a bit o' bizness. No danged shurks nor nothin' to stop a man, an' here we lose our chance."

"I reckon it's all right, cap'n," said the big mate, speaking for the first time. "I done quit divin' fer this season, ennyways. 'N' when I says I smells shurk, I means _shurk_. 'N' the fust man what begs me toe go under ag'in when I says that, I gwine toe break his haid."

II

The Wrecker's Reward

"Ef I wassent er lady, I'd knock yo' blamed haid off, yo' black rascal!" cried Julia. The big mate smiled at her softly, and made another pass to seize her; but she struggled free, for he would not hold her fast enough. "Don't yo' come 'round heah no mo'; I don't want no dealin's wif no sailor man."

"What' the good o' gettin' mad over a little squeeze, Sugar-plum?" grinned the black giant. "I ain't done yo' no harm--an' wouldn't fo' nothing Jule. Yo' knows I ain't got no gal but yo'self."

"Youse a rascal, dat yo' is, 'n' ef I wassent a lady, I'd knock yo' cocoanut off'n yo' ugly haid!" said the indignant Julia, whose dignity had been ruffled by the sailor's amorous but powerful wooing. "I knows yo', comin' around dis house an' tryin' to fool a pore gal like me."

"No, Jule, I means everythin' I says, an' a lot mo' besides. I wants yo' to marry me, sho' 'nuff," said the big sailor earnestly.

Julia rapidly was soothing herself. There was something so strong and pleading in the man's voice that she almost forgot the liberties he had taken, and looked at him keenly. "Aw, gwine away, yo' black man; whar yo' got money to marry a gal like me?" She was now smiling at him; but edging away into the doorway of the little cabin which stood by the coral roadway in Key West. She really did not dislike the sailor; for Bahama Bill had a reputation for being a good money-getter and a most excellent spender. As mate of the wrecking sloop _Sea-Horse_, he often came in with a few English pounds sterling, or a pocketful of good American dollars, earned in his business along the Great Bahama Bank. Three days, however, always was the limit of his prosperity.

Now he had been ashore for a week, and consequently was the possessor of nothing more than a clasp-knife, a dirty pair of trousers and jumper, and an old clay pipe. Shoes he had left at some friend's house for a trivial debt for a handful of cigars, and head-gear he did not need. He was more or less contented, and was entirely willing to enter into the married state, feeling with the utmost confidence that money was a plentiful article and easy for a man of parts to procure. His wild excesses seemed vain in the sober light of the tropic sunshine, and it manifestly was the time for him to settle down to a state of quiet bliss with Julia.

"I kin get plenty o' money, Jule," said he softly.

"When yo' shows me, den yo' cain talk wif me, an' not befo'," said Julia. "I ain't doin' no washin' 'n' ironin' for no one. I'se near eighteen now, an' I ain't married no one yet."

"But, Jule, I kin get money easy enough. Come here now an' let me tell yo' how I kin."

"No, sah, no monkeyin'," said Julia, edging farther into the doorway. "Yo' get de money fust, 'n'--'n'--den--well, yo' knows--'bout--'bout--dat."

Then she softly but firmly shut the door. He caught a glimpse of her through the kitchen window, and she smiled and waved her hand so that he almost was tempted to force an entrance; but he remembered that the Cuban who owned the house would likely hear him and perhaps fill him with bird-shot. He gave one longing look, and strode toward the harbour. The wrecking sloop was to sail that day, sponging to the northward along the Keys.

The first few days were hard on him. He was solemn and lonesome in spite of himself, and his quiet behaviour was noticed by his shipmates. They made the remarks usual among rough men of the forecastle, but Bill took no notice.

"Here's a chance for a feller to make good," cried a Conch to a stout German sailor called Heldron: "Reward fer old man Sanches' boy who run off to sea in one o' them fruit-ships," and he read from an old paper as he lay in his bunk during the watch below.

"I know dot poy: he pad poy; but him fader big sight worse," said the German. "He make de worst seegar in Key West."

"Well, if I was a mate o' a ship I might make good on that, hey?" said Sam.

"Blamed sight easier'n spongin', to catch a little boy," said another; "but I hear the old man is going to the eastward--heard of something down Fortune Island way."

And the conversation turned to business, while the mate smoked on in silence. That night they were speeding across the Florida Channel in spite of the threatening weather and heavy sea. By morning they were many miles off shore, and gradually had been forced to slow down. The wind, while now slacking up and becoming heavy with moisture and warmth, had been strong enough during the night to make the _Sea-Horse_ shorten down to keep from forcing too heavily into the high, rolling sea.

It was dirty weather in the Gulf Stream. The flying scud streamed away to the northwest in little whirling bits of vapour. They tore along with the speed of an express train in a direction which seemed at a sharp angle to the heavy, steel-blue bank which swept in a mighty and majestic semicircle across the southern sky. High overhead the sky had a distant appearance, something peculiar and weird, for the storm-centre was advancing northward and gathering all straying moisture in its grasp. It made dark streaks in the heavens at a distance above the sea, and rays of the morning sun shone upon them with a brassy glare, as though the whole universe was incased in a colossal dome which darkened near the horizon. It seemed to absorb the failing light less and less as the line of vision rose toward the zenith.

With a line of reef-points tied in from the second hoop on the mainsail to the cringle on the leach, which raised only a couple of fathoms in the air, the _Sea-Horse_ lay upon the starboard tack. A bit of staysail forward hauled to the mast held her steady as she breasted the sea, staggering to leeward with the heave that, increasing, told of a mighty power behind it. The combing crests rolled white with a dull, rattling snore, and the beautiful blue colour of the warm stream was paling into a dark lead.

The sloop would throw her forefoot high in the air as the rolling crests would strike and sweep from under the now almost logy hulk. The brown of the copper-painted under-body showed in strong contrast to the dirty white above. Then she would drop with a sidewise, twisting motion, a little bow-foremost into the trough, and back her snub nose away from the onrushing hill before it, which sometimes would burst and smother her out of sight to the mast in a storm of flying water. Then she would drop again, sidewise and forward down the incline, the rush of foam on the decks sweeping through the side ports in the bulwarks, spurting and pouring over everything, and finally overboard, until the action was repeated.

Two men in their yellow oilskins were upon the quarter-deck; one lying prone abaft the rise of the cabin, gazed sullenly at the menacing sky. The other sat and held on the wheel, which was fast in a becket, with relieving tackles on the gear heaving it hard down, and he tried to get puffs of smoke from a pipe. The wind was getting too strong for smoking, and he went into the companionway and called the mate to relieve him. Bahama Bill came up, and the Captain went below.

The big mate sat there watching the weather, and his face bore a good-humoured expression. The conditions suited his frame of mind. Away from the temptations of the beach, he was a different man from the fracas-loving ruffian when full of cheap grog. Captain Bull Sanders turned in for a short rest, knowing that the vessel was in good hands.

Below in the bunks of the cuddy five men lay in all possible positions to keep from being flung out. One read, or tried to read, the paper which told of the running away to sea of the rich cigar-maker's son and of the reward offered for his safe delivery into the bosom of his family. Others lay and talked. Another slept, grasping even in his slumbers at the bunk-boards, and mechanically bracing his knee to hold himself during the wild plunges. The creaking and racking of the straining sloop blended with the droning roar overhead, punctuated now and then by a smashing crash as a sea would fall on deck; but the resting men paid little attention to either the noise or motion, until the Captain had finished his pipe.

He suddenly threw down the magazine he had been trying to read for some minutes, and glanced at the barometer on the bulkhead. "Goin' down all the time. I reckon we'll catch it," he said.

"Hurricane season began nigh a month ago," said a man significantly.

"It don't got here alretty yet, maybe," said Heldron.

"Must be," said a Swede.

There was a general movement. All hands reached for oilskins and without further orders followed the Captain on deck.

"How's the wind now, Bill?" bawled the Captain.

"Been easterly; but goin' toe th' s'uthard fast," said the mate. "Looks a bit dirty."

"Whew! Beginning to blow a bit, hey?" said the Captain, as a fierce squall struck them and roared past, sending a blinding cloud of spray and drift over them. The droning cry of the wind in the rigging increased, and the straining cloth stretched until the blast passing over it made a dull, booming, rushing sound of such volume that conversation was deadened in the noise.

It now was blowing with force. The sea was white under the steel-blue bank, which had risen until a twilight darkness was upon the ocean. The sky above was turning a dull gray, and the scud was darker against it, whirling along in torn masses before the squalls, which were becoming more frequent and violent. The wind was shifting southerly, and the shifts in the squalls told plainly of the danger of the approaching spot of low pressure, about which the squalls drew in with the spiral movement common to tropical hurricanes.

Bull Sanders looked anxiously at the lubber's mark. The sea was getting worse, and the sudden hot blasts of wind were more vicious. He was too old a sailor to be caught with loose gear. Everything already had been done to snug the sloop down; but there was a limit to the strength of spars and lines. The mainsail might hold; but some of those hurricane squalls would blow away anything made of canvas, and he decided to take no chances. He got out his sea-anchor, or drag, and let it go from the weather quarter, passing the line forward with difficulty to the windlass. Then, just after a squall, all hands handed in the bit of canvas, rolled it up, and made it fast. The _Sea-Horse_ now was going astern fast, pulling the drag with her which kept her head to the sea. Nothing more could be done for the time, and Sanders crouched in the wake of the cabin, watching ahead for the shift which would come.

"What's that?" he bawled into the mate's ear, and pointed to the eastward.

Just as the sloop rose upon a high crest, a dark speck showed for a moment on the eastern horizon. It was not far away; for it was too thick to see any great distance.

"Steamer," bawled the mate, "hove-to and going to the north'ard like blazes!"

"We're right in th' stream--if the wind holds southeast, he'll be all right."

"But it won't. It's shifting--be southwest in an hour--he'll be close to the bank."

"Gun Key?"

"We ain't more'n twenty miles to the south'ard o' Gun Key--'bout sou'west-b'-south."

The squalls became fiercer and more frequent. They were like blasts from an explosion, the wind roaring past with incredible power. Between them it was blowing at the rate of sixty miles an hour; but when they struck it was nearly double that velocity. The wrecking sloop sagged away to leeward, and the dangerous sea swept upon her during those rushes in a way that shook every bolt and fastening in the frame. She was beginning to make water a little, and the bursting sea which struck now and again sought out every crack and seam in the companion doors and hatchway. The men on deck were submerged repeatedly. For an hour and more they watched her making bad weather of it, and then came a darker colour in the gray above. There was a sudden squall of tremendous power. The vessel was hove almost on her beam ends as it took her forward of the beam, and she swung up to the drag barely in time to take the sea bow on. The lubber's mark swung slowly from left to right until it reached southwest.

"It's goin' fast," bawled the mate to Sanders alongside him.

"See that feller now?" asked the Captain.

The mate pointed to the eastward.

The dark smudge of the steamer's hull showed through the flying drift. While they looked a flash of white told of a heavy sea boarding her. She disappeared in the foam.

"Must have trouble with her engines," said Sanders. "She's goin' to lor'ard as fast as we be."

Bahama Bill was staring astern into the gray blank where all things seemed to melt into chaos. Suddenly he called out, and all hands swung about and stared in the same direction.

"Gun Key light!" screamed Heldron, his eyes staring from their salt-burned lids.

"Will we go clear?" asked Sam, his voice steady, but his intense look telling of the tale of life or death he wanted to hear. They stared into the drift astern, and the squalls broke over them unheeded. The sea was quick and heavy, and to strike meant certain loss of the vessel. There was one chance in a thousand for any one to get ashore, should she fetch up on the coral bank. Yet there she was going to leeward fast in spite of the drag, and the tower of Gun Key light was rising under the lee. To the northward was the Beminis. She was getting jammed, and the chances were growing against her as the minutes flew by.

The steamer was farther to leeward. She had sighted the edge of the bank, and was trying to drive off into the Gulf Stream with the force of her crippled engines. A cross-head bolt had started, and under the terrific strain the starboard engine had broken down. She could not keep head to the sea with the port wheel, and had placed a tarpaulin in the mizzen-rigging to help hold; but it had forced her to leeward also, and she now was close to the edge of the Great Bahama Bank. The _Sea-Horse_ still had between twelve and fifteen miles between her and the reef; but the ship had hardly ten, and was dropping back too fast for any hope to clear unless the wind eased up suddenly.

Squall after squall followed the shift. It blew harder, if anything, and the Captain of the steamer, seeing that he must go on the bank, made ready to pile his ship up as high as possible in the hope of saving some of the passengers and crew. To go upon the submerged part of the reef meant death to all hands. He must run upon the coral above the surf, and get as high up as he could. Then if the outer edge was steep, he might get his bow near enough to dry land to get the people ashore.

The crew of the _Sea-Horse_ watched him as he went slowly in. In an hour after the westerly shift he was so close that the white coral showed through the blinding clouds of spray thrown up by the sea on the reef. Then, by hard work, he managed to get some head sail on the ship and start in for Gun Key.

She ran the half-mile between her and the beach at a tremendous pace. Lifting upon a sea, she rushed shoreward and struck, swung, lifted again, and then was hove solidly broadside into the surf. The men on the wrecker saw her strike. When she stopped a great burst of white told of a smashing sea going over. The slanting spars and funnel told how high she had hit, and the huge, bursting clouds of white water smothering her told of the rending power that she was exposed to in that surf. The hundred yards between the bow and the sand was a churning, boiling stretch of whiteness.

"That's the end of her," said the mate. "Looks like we're in fer the same thing."

In silence the rest watched the wreck. They were going in themselves; but the fate of the ship held their attention in spite of the death that they knew lay in the white line to leeward. It had been blowing now for four hours with hurricane force, and as they went in within a mile of the surf the shifting squalls swung more and more to the westward. Then it began to ease suddenly. Between gusts there was not more than a stiff gale. It was growing brighter, and they knew that they had missed the storm-centre, which must have passed to the eastward.

"Get the mainsail on her--we'll poke her to the s'uth'ard!" bawled Sanders.

Led by the mate, the men lay forward, and working for life raised the balance-reefed mainsail. Bahama Bill lay flat on his stomach, knife in hand, while they cleared the forestaysail and ran it up. Then he cut clear the drag. A wave of the hand, and Sanders filled the vessel off on the starboard tack, and as it went the dull booming thunder of the surf came up against the gale.

"If the wind keeps goin' we'll poke her off yet," said Sanders as the mate came aft.

"Ay, we'll poke her out to sea; but I could swim that surf good an' easy," said the mate quietly.

The Captain grinned, and looked at his giant form, its huge proportions made all the larger by the loose-fitting oilskins.

"Mebbe you'll git a chance yet," he said. "If it had blown half an hour longer, you cud ha' tried."

They worked off that afternoon, getting sail up as the wind slacked. At night they kept the light in sight, and the next morning were standing back for Gun Key under a single-reefed mainsail with a fine strong northerly wind and clear sky. The steamship lay over on her side in the surf, which broke over her in sheets of foam and spray. The sea had gone down; but there still was enough to tear up the craft. The masts and funnel and nearly all the superstructure had gone. Even the iron sides were smashed, twisted and bent, the plates starting and ripping clear of the rivets under the smashing blows of the sea. No sign of life showed aboard; but as she was high up on the bank there was no doubt that men could live. The _Sea-Horse_ ran close enough to give the crew a chance to read the name _Orion_ on the stern.

"One o' them new ships," said Bill. "She was in Key West last time we ran sponges."

They ran as close to the surf as they dared, and let go both anchors. Paying out cable, the sloop soon came within fifty fathoms, and then stopped; for the sea rose just under the stern, and burst a few fathoms farther in.

"Gimme a line," said the mate.

Sam and Heldron brought forth a coil of whale line, and the black man stripped for the plunge. He went over the side without a splash, and they paid out fathom after fathom until his black head showed close to the bow of the ship, which had settled inshore and lower. Then they saw him disappear around it, and they waited. Five, ten, minutes passed, and then a form showed upon the high stern. It was the mate, and he waved to haul line.

Heldron went over the taut line next, followed by a Swede and Sam. Then the line was slacked off, and the big mate, taking a new one, plunged to leeward and made his way ashore. Half-fish, the diver went through the surf without accident and joined the light-keeper and his assistant on the beach, where they were waiting to do what they could to save those on the wreck. A line they had sent in on a buoy had parted, and the man upon it had been drowned.

The mate went back aboard, and managed to get the ten passengers and rest of the crew ashore without accident. All had gone except an uncouth-looking lad, the ship's galley-boy, in whom no one took interest enough to care whether he got ashore or not. Dirty, dishevelled and frightened beyond words, the lad crawled out of his hiding-place and begged the big mate to take him in.

As he had been calling and looking through the ship for disabled men, the Captain having told him his crew, the mate seized the lad without further words and plunged over the side. The boy was the last person unaccounted for.

"Seems to me I seen yo' befo', sonny," said the mate as he drew him clear of the surf. "Don't yo' live in Key West?"

"Oh, yes, I know you," said the lad, grinning.

The mate held him out at arm's length. "Ain't yo' Jimmy Sanches?"

The grin died away from the lad's face. "You won't take me back, will you, Bill?" he said.

"I reckon I'll have toe, Jimmy."

The next day the _Sea-Horse_ sailed for Key West with the first claim for salvage, and a small boy who tried to run away at the last minute, causing the mate a chase to the lighthouse before he recaptured him.

"You've hit it fair this trip," said Sanders. "I reckon as ye ain't thinkin' about whackin' up on thet reward, hey Bill?"

But the mate said nothing, his rheumy eyes looking far away toward the southern horizon, where he expected to see the spars of the shipping in Key West rise above the sea. He was thinking, and it caused his heavy and seamed jaws to set and line up into a deep scowl. Julia worked for the rich Sanches, and their reception of a ragged and half-sober seaman had not been hospitable. Yet here was his chance.

The next day the wrecking sloop rode at anchor close to the beach, and Sanders made ready to get his load of perishable goods ashore and notify the authorities of the disaster up the bank.

"Don't take me back!" whispered Jimmy as Bill swung him into the small boat, and the big mate was silent as the men rowed ashore.

On the way up the street the mate walked slowly, holding the boy by the hand.

"You know what a feller my stepfather is, Bill. Don't take me back!" pleaded Jimmy.

A steamer was clearing at the coal dock, and the mate stopped to look at it. Then he suddenly looked down at the boy. "Kin yo' make it, sonny?" he asked, and he let go of the boy's hand. Like a flash the lad ran to the string-piece, balanced a moment, and then sprang to the rail of the ship astern without those on board noticing him. It was gathering headway, and in a few moments was steaming out to sea, leaving the big mate staring after her, and the few men who had cast off her lines clearing up the rubbish in the wake of her gangway.

"I come back toe tell yo', Jule, dat I ain't in the money racket," said Bill, half an hour later. "I ain't no perliceman--I'm a sailor."

"Whatcher mean, Bill?" asked the damsel, keeping inside the door.

"Nothin'--only if yo' is sho' nuff goin' toe marry me, gal, yo'll have toe take yo' chances--same as me."

"Chances? Whatcher mean by chances, man?"

"What I says," said Bill, solemnly.

She saw that he was not in liquor. He sat silent and solemn for a long time, until finally she opened the door a little wider.

"I reckon I ain't scared o' takin'--usual risks--Bill."

"I would like to borrow five dollars from ye, Bill," said Sanders when the mate got back aboard.