CHAPTER XX HAIL AND FAREWELL
Fifteen minutes more of an ominous silence which told plainer than wordsthat the steamship _Arion_ with all on board had gone to her finalresting place at the bottom of the sea. The very thought of it madeJohnny feel sick and faint. The shrill scream of wind in the riggingbecame to him the cries of those who called in vain for aid.
"Couldn't we reach them?" he asked the wireless man. "There might be somewe could save."
"Not a chance." The wireless man shook his head gravely. "Two or threehundred miles away. If we tried it we'd more than likely go to thebottom. Besides, there are two other ships closer than ours. I caughttheir answer to the S. O. S. They can't do anything either. The _Arion's_gone. God rest their souls!"
"Give me your report," said Johnny. "I'll take it to the Captain. Got toget out of here." He was shaking like a leaf. As he shut his eyes hecould see forms battling with the black waves.
"Here it is."
Taking the paper, Johnny threw the door open and shot from the cabin.
The cool damp air revived his spirits. The battle he fought in making thebridge over the slippery water-washed deck put the old fighting spiritinto him.
"We'll make it," he told himself stoutly. "This ship won't go down. She'sNorwegian built. Done by the sons of ancient Norsemen. Her every plankand beam is selected--flawless and strong."
The grizzled skipper received his message without comment. On such anight one expects anything.
Battling his way back to the main deck, Johnny crept forward to the maincabin. There, he remembered, was a long mess table, a cushioned seat ortwo along the wall, and some chairs screwed down to the deck.
"Might get a bit of rest," he told himself, yawning.
As he threw the door open a great gust of wind caught him and sent him inwith such force that he went sprawling on the floor.
Grumbling to himself, he struggled to his feet. What was his surprisethen to find himself looking into the eyes of Madge Kennedy.
"I--I couldn't stand my stateroom all alone on such a night," she toldhim. "I hoped some one would be down here, so I came."
"I am glad you did," Johnny struggled to a place opposite her, thenlooked across the table at her.
"You're not used to storms at sea," he said, noting the weary expressionon her face.
"Not this kind."
"Nor anyone else I guess. Don't worry. We'll weather it. We'll be in NewYork one of these days with our cargo. Then the sun will be shining onboth sides of the street."
"Will it, Johnny?" A wistful look came into her eyes.
"Do you know, Johnny," she went on, "I've been thinking to-night of ourorchard and our jungle. I dreamed a bad dream last night. Dreamed that wecouldn't sell the fruit, couldn't go back to our orchard and our junglebecause there was no money.
"That would be pretty bad, particularly for Grandfather. He's lived theresince he was a very young man. He loves it and he loves his black Caribs.
"You know, Johnny," her eyes became suddenly dreamy, her voice mellow,"I've read in books how people who live in other lands love their homes,their stone castles and their thatched cottages, their apple orchards,their groves and their tiny clustered villages. All that sounds fine, butvery far away. For we too came to love our homes in the tropical jungle.To see sunset redden behind the tops of the tangled jungle, to hear thenight birds call, to see the shadow of palms lengthen and lengthen, thento feel the damp of evening kiss your cheeks. Oh yes, Johnny, there is acharm in our land. And to us it is home."
"You'll go home," said Johnny with suddenly renewed determination, "andyou'll go with that ancient alligator-skin traveling bag of yourgrandfather's bursting with bales of money. Never fear."
Reassured by his words, the girl bent her head forward on the table andfell asleep.
As for Johnny, he did not sleep. He waited, watched and dreamed.
The motion of the ship was something tremendous. Now she rose high in airto strike square into a great world of water; and now, lifting, lifting,lifting, she appeared to start on a flying trip to the stars, only atlast to put her prow down as gently as a child drops his foot on a pebblyshore.
"She's a grand old ship," he thought to himself.
These were not his only thoughts. He thought of the great, gray-whiskeredman and his granddaughter sitting there before him, the man who had givenmuch to humanity and asked little in return.
Then he thought of the other one, their Unwilling Guest. "Providence," hewhispered suddenly. "Providence took a hand. If we had not picked him up;if he had sailed on the _Arion_ he would now be at the bottom of the sea.Wonder what he will think of that?
"Providence," he mused, "and back of Providence, God. God must have somework for that man to do, some great good work."
Morning broke at last and with it the storm passed. The wind went down.The sun came out. The sea was a thousand mountain ranges rolled into one,and all tossing about, rising and falling, like a new-born world.
The sea calmed. Hazy clouds drifted along the horizon. The _North Star_,somewhat battered by the storm, but still a very seaworthy vessel, heldsteadily on her course.
The Unwilling Guest came on deck. He seemed weak and somewhat thoughtful.No one had whispered a word to him of the ship that had gone to hergrave, but the very force of the storm, the thundering peril of it hadbeen enough to make any man thoughtful. Still he asked no questions,ventured no remarks.