Dab Kinzer: A Story of a Growing Boy

  CHAPTER XII.

  HOW THE GAME OF "FOLLOW MY LEADER" CAN BE PLAYED AT SEA.

  There was yet another gathering of human beings on the wind-sweptsurface of the Atlantic that evening, to whose minds the minutes andhours were going by with no small burden of anxiety to carry.

  Not an anxiety, perhaps, as great as that of the three families overthere on the shore of the bay, or even of the three boys tossing alongthrough the fog in their bubble of a yacht; but the officers, and not afew of the passengers and crew, of the great iron-builded ocean-steamerwere any thing but easy about the way their affairs were looking. Itwould have been so much more agreeable if they could have looked at themat all.

  Had they no pilot on board?

  To be sure they had, for he had come on board in the usual way, as theydrew near their intended port; but they had somehow seemed to bring thatfog along with them, and the captain had a half-defined suspicion thatneither the pilot nor he himself knew exactly where they now were. Thatis a bad condition for a great ship to be in at any time, and especiallywhen it was drawing so near a coast which calls for good seamanship andskilful pilotage in the best of weather.

  The captain would not for any thing have confessed his doubt to thepilot, nor the pilot his to the captain; and that was where the realdanger lay, after all. If they could only have choked down their pride,and permitted themselves to talk of their possible peril, it would verylikely have disappeared. That is, they could at least have decided tostop the vessel till they were rid of their doubt.

  The steamer was French, and her captain a French naval officer; and itis possible he and the pilot did not understand each other any too well.

  It was a matter of course that the speed of the ship should be somewhatlessened, under such circumstances; but it would have been a good dealwiser not to have gone on at all. Not to speak of the shore they werenearing, they might be sure they were not the only craft steaming orsailing over those busy waters; and vessels have sometimes been known torun against one another in a fog as thick as that. Something could bedone by way of precaution in that direction, and lanterns with brightcolors were freely swung out; but the fog was likely to diminish theirusefulness somewhat. They took away a little of the gloom; but none ofthe passengers were in a mood to go to bed, with the end of their voyageso near, and they all seemed disposed to discuss the fog, if not thegeneral question of mists and their discomforts. All of them but one,and he a boy.

  A boy of about Dab Kinzer's age, slender and delicate-looking, withcurly light-brown hair, blue eyes, and a complexion which would havebeen fair, but for the traces it bore of a hotter climate than that ofeither France or America. He seemed to be all alone, and to be feelingvery lonely that night; and he was leaning over the rail, peering outinto the mist, humming to himself a sweet, wild air in a strange butexceedingly musical tongue.

  Very strange. Very musical.

  Perhaps no such words had ever before gone out over that part of theAtlantic; for Frank Harley was a missionary's son, "going home to beeducated;" and the sweet, low-voiced song was a Hindustanee hymn whichhis mother had taught him in far-away India.

  Suddenly the hymn was cut short by the hoarse voice of the "lookout," asit announced,--

  "A white light, close aboard, on the windward bow."

  That was rapidly followed by even hoarser hails, replied to by a voicewhich was clear and strong enough, but not hoarse at all. The nextmoment something, which was either a white sail or a ghost, cameslipping along through the fog, and then the conversation did notrequire to be shouted any longer. Frank could even hear one person sayto another out there in the mist, "Ain't it a big thing, Ford, that youknow French? I mean to study it when we get home."

  "It's as easy as eating. Dab, shall I tell 'em we've got some fish?"

  "Of course. We'll sell 'em the whole cargo."

  "Sell them? Why not make them a present?"

  "We may need the money to get home with. They're a splendid lot. Enoughfor the whole cabin-full."

  "Dat's a fack. Cap'in Dab Kinzer's de sort ob capt'in fo' me, he is!"

  "How much, then?"

  "Twenty-five dollars for the lot. They're worth it,--specially if welose Ham's boat."

  Dab's philosophy was a little out of gear; but a perfect rattle ofquestions and answers followed in French, and, somewhat to FrankHarley's astonishment, the bargain was promptly concluded. Fresh fish,just out of the water, were a particularly pleasant arrival to peoplewho had been ten days out at sea.

  How were they to get them on board? Nothing easier, since the little"Swallow" could run along so nicely under the stern of the greatsteamer, after a line was thrown her; and a large basket was swung outat the end of a long, slender spar, with a pulley to lower and raise it.

  There was fun in the loading of that basket: but even the boys from LongIsland were astonished at the number and size of the fine,freshly-caught blue-fish, to which they were treating the hungrypassengers of the "Prudhomme;" and the basket had to go and come againand again.

  The steamer's steward, on his part, avowed that he had never before metso honest a lot of Yankee fishermen. Perhaps not; for high prices andshort weight are apt to go together, where "luxuries" are selling. Thepay itself was handed out in the same basket which went for the fish,and then "The Swallow" was again cast loose.

  The wind was not nearly so high as it had been, and the sea had for sometime been going down.

  Twenty minutes later Frank Harley heard,--for he understood French verywell,--

  "Hullo, the boat! What are you following us for?"

  "Oh! we won't run you down. Don't be alarmed. We've lost our way outhere, and we're going to follow you in. Hope you know where you are."

  There was a cackle of surprise and laughter among the steamer'sofficers, in which Frank and some of the passengers joined; and thesaucy little "fishing-boat" came steadily on in the wake of her gigantictide.

  "This is grand for us," remarked Dab Kinzer to Ford, as he kept his eyeson the after-lantern of the "Prudhomme." "They pay all our pilot-fees."

  "But they're going to New York."

  "So are we, if to-morrow doesn't come out clear, and with a good wind togo home by."

  "It's better than crossing the Atlantic in the dark, anyhow. But what asteep price we got for those fish!"

  "They're always ready to pay well for such things at the end of avoyage," said Dab. "I expected, though, they'd try and beat us down apeg. They generally do. We didn't get much more than the fair marketprice, after all, only we got rid of our whole catch at one sale."

  That was a good deal better than fishermen are apt to do.

  Hour followed hour; and "The Swallow" followed the steamer, and the fogfollowed them both so closely, that sometimes even Dick Lee's keen eyescould with difficulty make out the "Prudhomme's" light. And now FordFoster ventured to take a bit of a nap, so sure did he feel that all thedanger was over, and that Captain Kinzer was equal to what Dick Leecalled the "nagivation" of that yacht How long he had slept, he couldnot have guessed but he was awakened by a great cry from out the mistbeyond them, and by the loud exclamation of Captain Kinzer, still at thetiller,--

  "I believe she's run ashore!"

  It was a loud cry, indeed, and there was good reason for it. Well was itfor all on board the great steamer, that she was running no faster atthe time and that there was no hurricane of a gale to make things worsefor her. Pilot and captain had both together missed theirreckoning,--neither of them could ever afterward tell how,--and therethey were, stuck fast in the sand, with the noise of breakers ahead ofthem, and the dense fog all around.

  Frank Harley peered anxiously over the rail again but he could not havecomplained that he was "wrecked in sight of shore," for the steamer wasany thing but a wreck as yet, and there was no shore in sight.

  "It's an hour to sunrise," said Dab to Ford, after the latter hadmanaged to comprehend the situation. "We may as well run farther in, andsee what we can see."

  It must h
ave been aggravating to the people on board the steamer, to seethat little cockle-shell of a yacht dancing safely along over the shoalon which their "leviathan" had struck, and to hear Ford Foster sing out,"If we'd known you meant to run in here, we'd have followed some otherpilot."

  "They're in no danger at all," said Dab, "If their own boats don't take'em all ashore, the coast-wreckers will."

  "The government life-savers, I s'pose you mean."

  "Yes: they're all alongshore, here, everywhere. Hark! there goes thedistress-gun. Bang away! It sounds a good deal more mad than scared."

  So it did; and so they were,--captain, pilot, passengers, and all.

  "Captain Kinzer" found that he could safely run in for a couple ofhundred yards or so; but there were signs of surf beyond, and he had noanchor to hold on by. His only course was to tack back and forth ascarefully as possible, and wait for daylight,--as the French sailorswere doing, with what patience they could command.

  In less than half an hour, however, a pair of long, graceful,buoyant-looking life-boats, manned each with an officer and eightrowers, came shooting through the mist, in response to the repeatedsummons of the steamer's cannon.

  "It's all right, now," said Dab. "I knew they wouldn't be long incoming. Let's find out where we are."

  That was easy enough. The steamer had gone ashore on a sand-bar, aquarter of a mile from the beach, and a short distance from Seabright onthe New Jersey coast; and there was no probability of any worse harmcoming to her than the delay in her voyage, and the cost of pulling herout from the sandy bed into which she had so blindly thrust herself. Thepassengers would, most likely, be taken ashore with their baggage, andsent on to the city overland.

  "In fact," said Ford Foster, "a sand-bar isn't as bad for a steamer as apig is for a locomotive."

  "The train you were wrecked in," said Dab, "was running fast. Perhapsthe pig was. Now, the sandbar was standing still, and the steamer wasgoing slow. My! What a crash there'd have been if she'd been running tenor twelve knots an hour, with a heavy sea on!"

  By daylight there were plenty of other craft around, including yachtsand sail-boats from Long Branch, and "all along shore;" and the LongIsland boys treated the occupants of these as if they had sent for them,and were glad to see them.

  "Seems to me you're inclined to be a little inquisitive, Dab," saidFord, as his friend peered sharply into and around one craft afteranother; but just then Dabney sang out,--

  "Hullo, Jersey, what are you doing with two grapnels? Is that boat ofyours balky?"

  "Mind yer eye, youngster. They're both mine, I reckon."

  "You might sell me one cheap," continued Dab, "considering how you got'em. Give you ten cents for the big one."

  Ford thought he understood the matter now, and he said nothing; but the"Jersey wrecker" had "picked up" both of those anchors, one time andanother, and had no sort of objection to "talking trade."

  "Ten cents! Let you have it for fifty dollars."

  "Is it gold, or only silver gilt?"

  "Pure gold, my boy; but, seem' it's you, I'll let you have it for tendollars."

  "Take your pay in clams?"

  "Oh, hush! I hain't no time to gabble. Mebbe I'll git a job here, 'roundthis yer wreck. If you reelly want that there grapn'I, wot'll yougimme?"

  "Five dollars, gold, take it or leave it," said Dab, pulling out a coinfrom the money he had received for his bluefish.

  In three minutes more "The Swallow" was furnished with a much larger andbetter anchor than the one she had lost the day before; and Dick Leeexclaimed, "It jes' takes Cap'n Kinzer!"

  For some minutes before this, as the light grew clearer and the foglifted a little, Frank Harley had been watching them from the rail ofthe "Prudhomme," and wondering if all the fisher-boys in America dressedas well as these two.

  "Hullo, you!" was the greeting which now came to his ears. "Go ashore inmy boat?"

  "Not till I've eaten some of your fish for breakfast," said Frank."What's your name?"

  "Captain Dabney Kinzer, of 'most anywhere on Long Island. What's yours?"

  "Frank Harley of Rangoon."

  "I declare," almost shouted Ford Foster, "if you're not the chap mysister Annie told me of! You're going to Albany, to my uncle Joe Hart's,ain't you?"

  "Yes, to Mr. Hart's, and then to Grantley to school."

  "That's it. Well, then, you can just come along with us. Get your kitout of your state-room. We can send over to the city after the rest ofyour baggage, after it gets in."

  "Along with you! Where?"

  "To my father's house, instead of ashore among those hotel people, andother wreckers. The captain'll tell you it's all right."

  Frank had further questions to ask before he was satisfied as to whosehands he was about to fall into; and the whole arrangement was, nodoubt, a little irregular. So was the present position of the"Prudhomme" herself, however; and all landing rules were a trifle out ofjoint by reason of that circumstance. So the steamer authoritieslistened to Frank's request when he made it, and gruffly granted it.

  "The Swallow" lay quietly at her new anchor while her passenger to bewas completing his preparations to board her. Part of them consisted ofa hearty breakfast,--fresh bluefish, broiled; and while he was eating itthe crew of the yacht made a deep hole in what remained of their ownsupplies. Nobody who had seen them eat would have suspected that theirlong night at sea had interfered with their appetites. In fact, each ofthem remarked to the others that it had not, so far as he was concerned.

  "We'll make a good run," said Dab. "It'll be great!"

  "What?" said Ford, in some astonishment; "ain't you going to New York atall?"

  "What for?"

  "I thought that was what you meant to do. Shall you sail right straighthome?"

  "Why not? If we could do that distance at night, and in a storm, I guesswe can in a day of such splendid weather as this, with the wind justright too."