CHAPTER XIV

The Voice of the Fog Pirate

Affairs were bad enough on board the Herculanea, but not quite so bad as the cry of the terror-stricken passenger would seem to indicate. Although she was steadily sinking lower and lower, the steamer remained afloat half an hour after the first boiler explosion. After a hundred or more had leaped into the sea, following the example of the first terrified wretch, the panic subsided, and the saner ones busied themselves at devising means of self-preservation. But it was plainly a question of only a short time when she would tip on end and plunge downward, so that all worked with the greatest of haste.

Guy and his two friends kept together through the fearful excitement. A dozen rafts, large enough and well enough buoyed to float with a burden of from twenty-five to fifty persons each, were being launched with greater energy than skill, and conditions now looked hopeful for those who had leaped into the sea with life jackets, as well as for the many who still remained on board.

As soon as those on the boat deck observed what was going on below, there was a general rush down to the main deck. Guy, Watson and Glennon aided in lowering the rafts and were among the last to seek refuge themselves on one of the floating platforms.

So far as they were able to determine, no lives were lost in this final abandonment of the sinking vessel. All, apparently, wore life jackets and even those who ordinarily were unable to swim had little difficulty in making their way to the rafts and climbing aboard. Then, as rapidly as possible, the escaping passengers and members of the crew rowed away from the doomed Herculanea in order not to be sucked down with her when she plunged to the bottom of the ocean.

The raft on which Guy and his two friends made their escape was less than 100 hundred feet away from the ship when another boiler explosion settled the question as to how much longer she would be afloat. The men with the oars in their hands strained every muscle in their bodies and limbs and succeeded in more than doubling this distance, when the great liner plunged nose down out of sight. Even then the strength of the oarsmen was not sufficient to stem the backward pull of the cataclysmic current, and they were dragged almost to the very spot where the ship sank. But although the raft was rocked violently, no damage was done, except the tipping off of two passengers, who were soon taken aboard again, none the worse for their ducking, if we except violent chills and chattering teeth.

Following the disappearance of the Herculanea beneath the surface of the sea, more attention was given by the occupants of the rafts to their surroundings. No doubt there had been only casual observation of the proximity of the great iceberg on the part of anybody as long as the ship remained afloat. Now it was the principal object of interest for all.

Guy told himself that he had never dreamed that there could be so mighty a mass of ice between the arctic and antarctic circles. Naturally the sight of this frigid monster, in the gloom of the starlit night, tended further to depress his spirits and caused him to give way for a time to the most wretched forebodings, and it was only after an inward struggle that he was able to overcome them.

A majority of those on the raft on which Guy and his friends had sought refuge decided that it was better not to row away from the place where the liner went down because of the expected arrival of one or more rescue ships in a few hours. Some of the men were disposed to grumble a little at this inactivity, but Watson, who soon assumed the role of leader by virtue of his readiness of ideas, suggested that they take turns at the oars and propel the craft around in a circle near the iceberg. As everybody was wet and cold, all were eager to put their hands to the oars, so that there was no lack of helpers in this aimless occupation. Even the half dozen women on the raft took their turns at the circular rowing.

This raft was one of the larger that had been carried by the Herculanea and supported some twenty-five passengers. The material and construction were of a kind generally approved for life saving emergencies of this kind. The buoys were long metal cylinders, cone shaped at each end, like a sharpened pencil. Over these was a large platform or deck, made of many slats of light wood, laid side by side an inch or two apart and bound together with steel cross rods.

In spite of the fact that they were in no immediate danger of drowning, the shipwrecked occupants of this and all the other rafts from the Herculanea were anything but confident of safety for themselves in their condition and surroundings. They were all wet to the skin, and the atmosphere and the water into which many of them had plunged when leaving the steamer were almost as cold as ice. It seemed scarcely possible that the constitutions of the most hardy could withstand such exposure many hours. Moreover, the sea was by no means calm. A considerable swell of the ocean drenched them repeatedly so that there was little likelihood of any amelioration of their discomfort by the drying of their clothes in the smart wind that blew.

“It seems to me that the wind is getting stronger and the waves heavier,” remarked one of the women, nervously addressing Guy, who clung to some of the slats of their raft near her.

“We can’t hang onto this raft if the sea gets much rougher,” declared another woman.

“If the waves are going to get much higher, we’d be much better off on that iceberg,” declared a shivering middle-aged man to Guy’s left.

“That isn’t a bad idea,” said a “half-drowned” seaman, who seemed to be suffering quite as wretchedly as the women. “I move that we look for a landing place.”

“Are the rescue ships likely to look for anybody on the iceberg?” questioned Guy.

“They’ll make a good search for us all around here, never fear,” replied the seaman. “It’s up to us to keep ourselves alive by any means possible for several hours, and we’ll be safe. We can’t live in this ice-water, though.”

“How about on the ice?” inquired Watson, who had been listening attentively to the discussion.

“We’ll have a better chance to move around there and dry our clothes,” replied the seaman. “We can fly signals, too, from the top of the berg, if we can get up there. They ought to attract attention from so high a point.”

The seaman’s argument created a generally favorable impression, and a little further discussion resulted in a unanimous vote to seek refuge on the iceberg. This mountain of frozen water, being only a short rowing distance from where the ship went down, was soon reached. But disappointment met their first close inspection, for as far as they were able to see, there appeared to be no “landing place.” Then they rowed in an easterly direction along the ragged wall of ice. Another and smaller raft, supporting some twenty passengers, followed them.

They rowed around the eastern end of the berg and some distance along the northern side. In spite of his great physical discomfort, Guy soon found his interest centered again on the immensity of the floating mass of ice, which became more and more evident as they advanced, in spite of the darkness of the night. At last they found an ideal “beach,” sloping down gradually to the water’s edge. The waves dashed high upon this area, and it was evident that if they were to effect a “landing” it could be done only by a vigorous “beaching” drive.

The oarsmen of the larger raft took in the situation at a glance and acted accordingly. They bent to the task with their best energy and the raft seemed to be lifted almost out of the water in the crest of a wave. Then down it came with a crash and a crunching, grinding sound. Some of the passengers were literally hurled off the raft and onto the ice as the water receded.

“Look out! She’ll be carried back by the next wave,” shouted one of the men. “Lay hold and we’ll save her.”

Guy sprang forward with a score of other men to seize the raft and drag it farther up on the “beach;” but, as he did so, a thrill of astonishment electrified his numb physique.

That voice! Surely it was the “squeaky-roar” of the London “fog pirate.” But it was not so much the voice as the identity of its possessor that astonished the boy. The man who shouted the warning stood only a few feet away from Guy and the latter recognized him.

It was Gunseyt.