CHAPTER XI
THE WRECKERS OF THE SPANISH MAIN
"Well, Eric," said Homer Tierre to his friend, as they stood togetherone evening a few days after the rescue of the survivors of the_Luckenback_, watching the phosphorescence of the sea, "we're gettingdown to the old Spanish Main, now."
"Isn't that a great word for bringing up ideas!" exclaimed Eric inreply. "It makes one think of the old stories we used to read as kids,of the black flag with the skull and crossbones and all that sort ofthing. Too bad there aren't any pirates left!"
"I suppose you'd want us to go chasing them!"
"Of course. We should have to, if there were any, wouldn't we?"
"Certainly," his friend answered. "Don't you remember how the old bos'nof the _Itasca_ used to tell us about the early days of the RevenueCutter Service when chasing pirates was a regular part of its duties?Officially it is still, I suppose, but there aren't any more pirates tochase."
"What has put them all out of business?" Eric said thoughtfully. "I'veoften wondered."
"Steam, mainly," his friend replied, "that 'insult to a seaman'sintelligence,' as our friend the fluent skipper of the _Northwestern_called it."
"But I don't see why," persisted Eric. "After all, in the days ofsailing ships, the pirates only had sailing ships--and they weren'talways such an awful lot faster. Why couldn't pirates to-day havesteamships, just as fast in comparison to the steamers of to-day astheir clippers were to the sailing ships of old? They'd get much biggerhauls. Why, one good hold-up of an Atlantic steamer would make a piratecrew rich for life!"
"You'd better take to the trade," suggested his companion.
"I'd sooner do the chasing," replied the boy; "it's much more fun,anyway, and I'd rather be on the right side, every time. But don't youthink that there really would be a chance for a big Atlantic greyhoundpirate?"
"I don't think so," the other answered meditatively. "For one thing,we'd have pirates if there was any such chance. After all, Eric, you'vegot to remember that a pirate was successful because of his ownpersonality. They were a mighty forceful lot--Kidd, Blackbeard,Lolonnois, and all those early pirates. On a big steamer, the piratecaptain wouldn't have the same sort of chance. There's too many in acrew, for one thing. Then he'd be practically at the mercy of hisengineers and engine hands. In a mutiny, he'd be up against it forfair."
"But if a pirate captain could bluff a couple of mates and forty sailorsin his crew, I don't see why he shouldn't he able to bluff a couple ofengineers and fifty stokers," suggested Eric.
"Even supposing he did," said the other, "suppose he had every man onboard terrorized, or so heavily bribed that they would obey him to theletter, still his troubles would have hardly begun. In the old days, aslong as there was food and water aboard, a sailing ship could cruisearound for months at a time. A steamer needs coal."
"She could take the coal from the bunkers of the ships she held up,"suggested the boy.
"It would be a good deal more of a job than you reckon," the otheranswered. "She couldn't do it at all if there was any sea running, andeven on a calm day, it's a tricky proposition. If you've ever seen aman-o'-war on a sea cruise trying to coal from a naval collier, that'sbuilt just for that very purpose, you'd get an idea how hard it is.Meantime, what would the crew and passengers of the liner be doing?"
"Putting in coal, or getting shot down if they resisted."
"You've a bloodthirsty turn of mind," his friend rejoined. "I know theidea, 'scuppers pouring blood,' and that sort of business, eh?"
"Sure," answered Eric.
"You're forgetting a lot of things," the other said. "An old timesailing-ship just had the one deck. When a boarding pirate crew had wonthe deck, they were masters of the ship. But a modern steamer is like abuilding with several floors, one on top of the other. A pirate crewwhich could put aboard a steamer as many men as the steamer itselfcarried, and still handle itself, would be a small army. What's more, ona modern steamship, with half a dozen stairways and the whole inside alabyrinth of rooms, the pirates would be ambushed like rats in a trap adozen times over."
"Yes, there's something in that," the boy agreed.
"Then there's the wireless," continued Homer. "Supposing a piratesteamer hailed a craft. Long before the first boatload of men couldboard, or before the ships could have grappled, the wireless operatorwould send an 'S O S' call, with a description of the piratic vessel andthe latitude and longitude. The pirate couldn't get coal aboard in lessthan twelve hours, and by that time half a dozen vessels would besteaming at full speed to the spot."
"What difference would that make?" said Eric. "If the pirate were armedwith heavy guns, she could stand off a fleet of commercial vessels thatdidn't have any armament."
"Your imagination is working in great shape, Eric," his engineer friendreplied. "It's a pity you don't think far enough ahead."
"How's that?"
"I suppose you'd have your pirate vessel chosen for speed?"
"Of course," the boy answered. "She'd have to be fast in order to make agetaway."
"Here's where you're forgetting your ship-building," his friend warnedhim. "Could she have speed if she were armed with heavy guns? Wouldn'tshe necessarily have to be partly the build of a man-o'-war, say acruiser?"
"Perhaps she would," said the boy thoughtfully.
"And if she had the build of a cruiser, would she have the speed of anAtlantic greyhound?"
"That's true," admitted Eric, "she wouldn't. Still that wouldn't matter,if the only craft that could chase her was a craft without guns."
"Wouldn't it?" his friend queried. "Do you know how they chase wolves insome parts of Western Canada?"
"No."
"They use a couple of greyhounds and two or three heavy dogs, likebulldogs or Airedales or wolfhounds. The wolf can easily outrun theheavy dogs, but when it comes to real speed he isn't in it with agreyhound. The greyhounds overtake Mr. Wolf in less than no time, nip athim, worry him, anger him until he turns on them. They won't even try tofight and he hasn't a chance of catching them. Meantime, the heavy dogs,following up the scent, come pounding along the trail. The wolf seesthem and lopes off again, the greyhounds after him. They badger andworry him again, and again he turns. By the time this has happened threeor four times, the heavy dogs have caught up to their quarry, and thefight is on. Two or three minutes and it's all over, and there's onewolf the less to harry the flocks of sheep."
"Well?"
"That's just about what would happen to this pirate of yours. Suppose hedid stop an Atlantic steamer, suppose he did board her successfully,suppose he got his coal bunkers full, suppose he carried a heap oftreasure to his own vessel flying the Jolly Roger and got away with it.He'd have the other ships around, wouldn't he?"
"I suppose he would," Eric admitted.
"You can bet your last dollar he would. And their wireless would beworking overtime, wouldn't it?"
"Of course."
"Piracy is a matter that every maritime nation is interested in. Thenewspapers of the world would have the story by wireless the nextmorning, the governments of the world would know almost as quickly. Bynoon the next day half a dozen warships would be steaming from differentdirections in search of the pirate, led as straight as a magnet to thepole by the radio information constantly being sent from the lightpassenger steamers that were pursuing. If the naval fleet included adestroyer with a thirty-knot speed, where would your pirate get off at?"
FOAM--THE DERELICT'S ONLY TOMBSTONE.
Courtesy of U.S. Coast Guard.]
MINING A LURKING PERIL.
A submerged derelict, waterlogged, scarcely visible, for which a divermust be sent down to place the mines.
Courtesy of U.S. Coast Guard.]
"He wouldn't have a show. I see," continued Eric, regretfully, "I'llhave to give up the hope of being able to join in a real pirate chase."
"Of course," the young engineer said thoughtfully, "a pirate in asubmarine might be able to do something."
&nbs
p; "Now there's a real idea," exclaimed Eric. "Maybe there's a chance yet!"
"I'm afraid not, even there," answered the other, smiling at hisfriend's eagerness, "mainly because of that same question of fuel. Thecaptain of the submarine would have to be in cahoots with some supplystation, and with the howl that would be made all over the world bymodern piracy, it would be hard for the fuel contractor to hide hisoutput. The only way that I can see would be for such a pirate to watchout for ships loaded with what was most needed, run up and threaten totorpedo the craft with everybody on board unless they took to the boats,put a prize crew aboard and run that steamer to a lonely beach on anuninhabited island and start a supply depot of his own there."
"But a submarine couldn't carry a large enough crew to conquer asteamer."
"They wouldn't need to," said Homer. "It would be enough to send one manaboard to demand the treasure."
"Well?"
"The submarine could lie to, with her submerged torpedo tubes pointingfull at the vessel. If within a given space of time the treasure was notshipped and the pirate lieutenant returned safe, a torpedo would befired which would send the steamer to Davy Jones with all hands. As acaptain is more responsible for the lives of his passengers than fortheir gold, he would have to consent. One might easily get half amillion dollars from one of the larger vessels. Three or four cruises ofthat kind would be quite enough, and our friend, the imaginary piratecaptain and all his crew, could retire from the profession."
"But do you really think such a thing is possible?"
"It's very unlikely," his friend replied, "but there's no doubt thatit's possible. Several submarines have been sunk in the Great War, andone or more of these might be fished up by wreckers. Being hermeticallysealed, no water would have got in, and their machinery would be as goodas ever, even if they had been lying under the water for some months. Asfor crew--if the pay were big enough, there would be always enoughdesperate fellows to be found to make the venture. Yes, that plan isfeasible enough. And, what's more, it would be hard to stop. Really, themore you think of it, the more possible it seems. The only weakness isthe coaling."
"It seems to me," Eric said, "that if she could coal at sea, sink theship and tow the boats containing the crew within reach of land, shewould be pretty safe."
"Yes," his friend answered, "if she could stay at sea indefinitely untiltreasure enough had been accumulated, I believe a submarine could getaway with it. There might be difficulty afterwards in getting rid of thebullion and the jewels, but, after all, that's a different question. Ithas nothing to do with the piracy."
Eric peered into the darkness, putting his hand over his eyes as thoughto look intently.
"Pirate, ahoy!" he called softly. "Three points off the starboard bow!"
The young lieutenant of engineers laughed.
"You'll be dreaming of pirates in your next watch below," he said, as heturned away, "or you'll be running up the skull and cross-bones insteadof the Stars and Stripes and we'll have to court-martial you."
"Little chance of that," replied the boy, "but maybe there'll be asubmarine pirate some day that we'll have a chance to chase. I'll livein hopes!"
By a somewhat curious coincidence, a few days after this conversation,the _Miami_ passed the Dry Tortugas, the old-time capital of thatBuccaneer Empire which for forty years held the navies of the entireworld at bay. It was a curious chapter in the history of the seas, andEric caught himself wondering whether the future of navigation held anysuch surprising and adventurous period in store. He was to learnshortly, however, that the Coast Guard was thoroughly fitted to meetsimilar emergencies and that her naval powers could be made swiftlyoperative even in times of peace.
As the cutter was proceeding to her station at Key West, she sighted aschooner, which, by signal flags, reported that she had that morningpassed a bark flying the reversed ensign, with her yards awry and hersails aback. On running close to the schooner the _Miami_ learned thatthe bark had changed her course when the schooner approached, and whenthe schooner fell on her course the bark came aback again. A second timethe schooner went to her relief, and again the bark squared off on hercourse.
"Queer thing," said Eric, after the flags had been read. "What do yousuppose it is?"
"Looks like mutiny," said his chum. "I suppose we'll chase her and findout. Too bad the schooner never got near enough to see her name."
"What's the odds? We've got a description. Hello! Forced draft, eh?"
"Yes, it looks like trouble. You wanted to see a pirate chase, Eric. Idon't believe that's on the boards, but at least a mutiny chase smacksof the old days."
The information given by the schooner proved to be startlingly correct,for a couple of hours later the lookout in the crow's-nest reported,
"Sail on the port bow!"
"Where away?" asked the chief officer.
"Nearly dead ahead, sir," was the reply.
The captain leveled his glass at the craft. Eric watched him closely,for his expression was puzzling. In an hour's time the _Miami_ which,under forced draft, was flying through the water, overhauled the vessel.Just as the schooner had reported, the bark was in irons, with her yardsbraced athwartwise and her sails aback. The British merchant flag wasflying at her mizzen-gaff, with the ensign down.
No sooner was the _Miami_ within a mile or two of the bark than thevessel squared around her yards and began to scud before the wind. Shehad a good pair of heels and it was not surprising that the schooner hadnot started to pursue. There was no real reason why she shouldinterfere. But with the Coast Guard cutter it was another matter. Asignal of distress had been seen, an American vessel had called on thecutter, and now the suspected craft was running away. The chase began.
No sooner did the bark realize that she was actually being chased thanmen were sent aloft, and the fore-royal and main sky-sail were set, aheavy press of the sail for the full breeze. This absolutely determinedthe fact that the Coast Guard cutter would chase, for the bark wasfleeing. It was getting late in the afternoon, and within a couple ofhours darkness would close down. The moon would not rise until nearlymidnight, so that there would be two or three hours in which the sailingvessel could give the cutter the slip. Little by little, however, the_Miami_ began to close up. The breeze freshened, increasing the chancesof the fugitive, but still the cutter lessened the distance betweenthem.
Immediately after dinner, a few minutes before eight bells struck in thesecond dog watch, the first lieutenant, at the captain's direction, gaveorders to clear away the bow gun. The gun crew sprang to stations, and amoment later the sharp crack of a rapid fire six-pounder sounded acrossthe waters of the Gulf of Mexico, an order from Uncle Sam for thefleeing bark to stop.
But the stranger paid no heed. With the glass, figures could be seen onthe main deck and on the poop, but it was too far away to determine whatthey were doing.
The captain turned suddenly to the officer of the deck. "Did you seeanything, Mr. Keelson?" he asked.
The officer, who had his eyes glued to his glass, replied,
"I thought I saw the smoke of shots!"
"That's what I thought," the captain answered. Then, in a quick voiceof command, he added,
"You may use solid shot!"
A few seconds sufficed to carry out the work.
"Try for her upper spars!" was the next order.
The sharp crack of a shot from the six-pounder was the reply, andsimultaneously, holes appeared in the gaff topsail and the maintopgallant staysail. The wind immediately slivered the sails to ribbonsand they began lashing about the rigging. At this, the main yards wereswung round, the mainsails came aback and ten minutes later the _Miami_was alongside.
Two boats' crews, fully armed, were sent aboard. The situation whichgreeted Eric, in the second lieutenant's boat, was unusual. A ropeladder had been thrown over the ship's side from the main deck. Abovethe ladder was an excited group, all shouting at the top of theirvoices. The senior second lieutenant, who was in charge of the boat towhich Eri
c had been assigned, took command of the party. He asked forthe captain. One of the men pointed to the helmsman.
"Are you the captain?" the Coast Guard officer demanded.
"Si, signor," the man answered, "I the captain."
"Johnson," said the lieutenant, "relieve the wheel!"
One of the Coast Guard men saluted, stepped forward and took the wheel.The vessel was hove to.
"Are you English?" the lieutenant asked, when this manoeuver had beencompleted.
"Italiano!" the captain of the bark replied.
"Then what's that flag doing there?" the Coast Guard officer asked,pointing to the reversed British merchant flag which still hung at thegaff.
The other shrugged his shoulders.
"The only one I have. The mate he take the others," he answered.
"Where's the mate?"
An evil-looking fellow with rings in his ears and a long knife stuck inhis belt slouched forward. He did not come alone. Half a dozen sailors,evidently part of a gang, came aft with him.
Thinking that a little example might be salutary, the lieutenant turnedto the file of men who had come on board with him. The men had theirrifles at the carry.
"'Tion! Order arms!"
The butts of the rifles came down on the ship's deck with the precisionof clockwork and the rattle was ominous. The Coast Guard officer had asteely note in his voice, as he continued.
"You're the mate?"
"Yes," the man said sulkily, but in good English, "I'm the first mate,all right."
"Did you remove the signal flags from the locker?"
"What if I did?"
"Did you receive orders from your captain to do so?"
"Not exactly--"
"Yes or no!"
"N-no!"
"And was he on deck at the time?"
"Yes."
"Did he order you not to haul down the flag?"
"I don't have to do everything he tells me."
"Did he order you not to haul down the flag? Yes or no?"
"Well, yes."
"And did you haul it down several times?"
"Yes, but--"
"I don't want to hear your excuses or your reasons. That's mutiny,"the lieutenant said, simply. Then, turning to the captain, he said,
"Do you accuse him of mutiny?"
"Yes," the master answered, "he mutiny."
"Put the irons on him, Quartermaster," said the lieutenant, andhandcuffs were snapped on the first mate's wrist.
STRANDED! AFTER STORM HAS CEASED AND TIDE HAS EBBED.
The end of a gallant bark driven on a lee shore, but from which theCoast Guard rescued every one on board.
Courtesy of U.S. Coast Guard.]
"Any more of your men mutiny, Captain?" asked the lieutenant.
"I tell you whole story," the shipmaster answered. "You speak Italian?"
"French," the Coast Guard officer answered, "but not Italian."
"French? Fine!" the captain replied, and stepping forward, he told thestory of the trip. It appeared that the ship had part of her cargoconsigned to Vera Cruz, consisting of cartridges, designed for theMexican government. The mate had practically seized the ship anddemanded that the captain sail her to Puerto Mexico, one of the southernports, in the hands of the Zapatistas. The Mexican rebel general was topay a good price for the ammunition, and then the captain was to beallowed to proceed with the ship unmolested on the rest of his cruise.
As the ammunition had been shipped from an American port, the CoastGuard lieutenant realized that complications might ensue. Accordingly,since it was only a few hours' run to Apalachicola, and the wind wasfair, the lieutenant advised the Italian captain to run for that portand deal with the question of the mate and the other three mutineersbefore the proper court.
A file of men, under command of Gunner Sternow, was left on board thebark to preserve order. The mate and the three other mutineers werethrust in irons into the carpenter's shop, which was converted into aprison for the purpose, one of the cutter's men standing on guard. Thefollowing morning, the harbor authorities of Apalachicola having beennotified by wireless, a tug came off bearing authority for the formalarrest of the four men, who were taken ashore and put in prison, pendingaction by the Italian consul and the civil authorities.
"I suppose this mutiny business is rather rare," said Eric to Homer, asthe _Miami_ swung out of Apalachicola Bay.
"Not so rare as you'd fancy," his friend answered. "There's not a seasongoes by that some of the cutters don't have to take a hand in settlingmutiny. Why, only last year, a crew seized a vessel, in the realold-fashioned pigtail and tarred-trousers style, imprisoned the masterin the cabin, and started to sail the ship back to the United States ontheir own hook."
"Where were they bound for?"
"'Frisco, from Philadelphia, round the Horn. She was the _Manga Reva_,an American full-rigged ship with a crew of twenty-three men. She wasabout 600 miles out when the men mutinied and sailed her back toDelaware Breakwater. The master succeeded in running up a distresssignal, which was reported to the _Onondaga_. You know her station isjust north of Hatteras. The _Onondaga_ put an armed crew on board, andtook the mutineers on board the cutter, steamed up the river toWilmington, Delaware, where they were turned over to the Federalauthorities to await trial."
"What did they get?"
"Pretty heavy terms of imprisonment," the other answered; "mutiny on thehigh seas is a mighty ticklish thing."
"What do you suppose this mate we collared will get?"
"Hard to say," the other answered. "After all, he's an Italian, sailingunder Italian colors. Uncle Sam's always careful about internationallaw. But the Italian maritime laws are very strict, and if he's sentback to Italy, I'm sorry for him."
For the next two months, little of adventurous importance occurred. The_Miami_ disposed of several more dangerous derelicts in the gulf ofMexico. She assisted a small steamer belonging to the Public HealthService of Key West, which had anchored in an exposed position, andtowed her to safe moorings. She rescued two men in a small motor boat,out of sight of land, who had drifted after the machinery had brokendown. In addition to this, she floated and towed to harbor threesailing-vessels which had struck on the treacherous reefs of the watersof the Florida Keys. The work was constant, and the Coast Guard cutterwas on the job without ceasing, but there was little to stir thecomplement to their utmost.
Then came trouble. From the wireless station,--that continuous recorderof difficulty and disaster, came word that a Norwegian steamer wasashore on Twisted Cay, and asking for immediate assistance againstnative wreckers. The _Miami_ immediately started for the scene of thedisaster, and about noon of the next day arrived in sight of thevessel.
"They've been having trouble of some sort," said Eric, as the cuttersteamed up to the scene of the wreck. "And look at the nerve of them;they don't seem to pay any attention to us!"
The boats' crews were ordered out, and Eric, as before, was in thesmaller craft. The two boats pulled to the side of the vessel, and theboy accompanied the second lieutenant on board. The steamer was lyingwith her head to the southward and westward, with a decided list tostarboard. Twenty or thirty small sailing-boats were clustered roundher, like ants round a piece of sugar. What was still more daring, whilemost of the wreckers had left the stranded steamer on the arrival of thecutter, others actually stayed on board. They were an evil-looking lot,and heavily armed.
The scene on board was a striking one. The first thing noticed by Ericwas the presence of two men propped up against the starboard rail, paleand roughly bandaged.
"Where's the captain?" was the lieutenant's first question.
"I'm Captain Jorgsen," was the reply, as a finely built, ruddymiddle-aged man advanced. "Glad to see you on board."
"Good morning, Captain. You reported by wireless having trouble withthese wreckers," the Coast Guard officer remarked; "are these men ofyours badly hurt?"
"One of them is," the captain answered. "Have you a doctor in yourparty?"<
br />
"We've one aboard. Mr. Swift," he continued, turning to Eric, "will youplease take the boat and bring Dr. Fuhrman here?"
Eric saluted and was in his boat almost on the instant. The doctor,guessing that possibly the call might be for him, was waiting at theladder with his instrument-bag in case he should be needed. Formalitieswere unnecessary, so that when the boat pulled alongside and Eric,looking up, saw the doctor at the rail he called,
"Couple of patients for you, Doctor."
"Right you are," was the answer, and the surgeon came down the ladder asnimbly as Eric could have done himself. On arriving at the wreckedsteamer, it was found that the injuries were knife-wounds, one of themdeep and necessitating an immediate operation.
As there was a good deal of likelihood that the steamer might go topieces on the reef if a storm blew up, it was decided to take the twoinjured men to the _Miami_, where the doctor could give them betterattention. Owing to the difficulty of the steamer's position on thereef, with the surf breaking over her to the windward and the rocks tolee, this trans-shipment of the injured men was not accomplished withoutdifficulty, but by three o'clock in the afternoon, the men were safelyon board the cutter.
Meantime the lieutenant had been trying to place the responsibility forthe crime, but this was impossible. All that the captain of the steamercould say was that, during a fight with the wreckers the precedingnight, these two men had been knifed. In response to questions, CaptainJorgsen expressed the hope that some of the wreckers had got hurtthemselves, but he regretted that his crew had been defenseless, withnothing but belaying pins and such like weapons for their protection. Asthe belaying pins in question were iron and twice as heavy as apoliceman's club, Eric could not help smiling at the suggestion ofinoffensiveness that the captain conveyed.
At the request of the captain of the steamer, the _Miami_ agreed to lieby her through the night, until the arrival of a wrecking tug fromHavana, a message having been received by the _Miami_ that the tug hadstarted for the scene of the disaster. Steam had been kept up on thewrecked steamer for the handling of the winches and so forth.
Suddenly, in the middle of the night, about two bells in the middlewatch, a succession of short, sharp whistles from the steamer piercedthe darkness. The first lieutenant of the _Miami_ was on the deck in afew moments. Meantime, the officer of the watch had ordered thesearchlight thrown on the steamer.
The light revealed the deck a struggling mass of men. In the darknessall the wreckers had gathered to board their victim, and at a givensignal not less than a hundred and fifty men had swarmed on to thevessel's decks.
The crew was pinned back into two groups, fighting like wild-cats. Mostof them, powerfully built Scandinavians, were sweeping aside the nativesbefore them, but the odds were overpowering. The negroes shouted andyelled as they tried to beat the sailors down. Already the main hatchhad been forced open and a stream of men was pouring down, for thewreckers knew of valuables which formed a part of the cargo.
A few sharp orders, and the cutter's boats were off to the wreck, thecrews armed, their rifles loaded with ball. At the same time, one of thesix-pounders was let loose and sent a few shots whistling over thesteamer, illumined only by the patch of intense white light thrown bythe searchlight of the _Miami_.
The boats were half-way across to the steamer, where there was a suddencessation of the fighting, and over the side of the vessel the wreckerscame swarming like rats leaving a sinking ship. But the _Miami's_ menhad been too quick for all to escape and more than a dozen of thenatives were pinned on board.
As soon as the wreckers had heard the _Miami's_ guns and fled, the tideof battle turned, and on the dozen which remained, the crew of thesteamer had taken a swift vengeance. None of them was seriously hurt,but they had been beaten up in a way that they would remember to the endof their days. Captain Jorgsen, who had been in the thick of the fight,was to the front when the cutter boats landed.
"I wish you'd put a hole in every one of those thieving boats," hegrowled.
"They deserve it, all right," the Coast Guard officer answered, "but Idoubt if the Department would approve."
"If I had a gun like yours," said Captain Jorgsen, grimly, "I'd fire at'em an' keep firing until I didn't have a shot left in the locker."
"I'm afraid we can't very well send you over one of our six-pounders,"said the other, "but it seems to me you have a right to protect yourselffrom being boarded in this way. I'll send over some small-arms andammunition in the morning and we'll stand by you and keep these blackrascals in order. But I wanted to ask you, Captain Jorgsen, how did youcome to be so far out of your course?"
"I was right on my course," the skipper growled. "That's what makes meso sore. But when I passed Cross Keys light, I thought I must havefigured wrong. I never stopped to think why the light was nearly aquarter of a degree from where she should have been by my reckoning, andI changed my course by that."
"Well?"
"One of my men heard those chicken-livered black-hided cowards laughingto themselves about the way they fooled vessels with their 'patentlight.'"
THE SIGNAL OF DISTRESS THAT WAS NEVER SEEN.
The missing lifeboat from the burned steamer, Columbian, abandoned. Notethe coat at the masthead.
Courtesy of U.S. Coast Guard.]
"You mean that the wreckers have put up a false light to lead vessels onto the reefs?"
"It's that decoy light that brought me here," said the skipper, "and ifyou hadn't come when you did, I reckon every one of us would have hadour throats cut and the vessel would have been skinned by this time."