CHAPTER XIII
ADRIFT ON THE PACIFIC
The sea had been the natural element of Dave Fearless since his earliestchildhood. In the stress of his present predicament, however, he feltthat he was in the most critical situation of his life.
A great wave received him as he went overboard. A second swept over it,ingulfing him for a full half-minute, and he was battling desperatelywith the vortex caused in part by the storm, in part by theswiftly-moving steamer.
As the youth emerged into less furious elements, his first thought wasof the _Swallow_. He dashed the water from his eyes with one hand andstrained his sight.
"It's no use," he spoke. "She'll be out of reach in two minutes."
Dave did not try to shout. It would have done him no good, he realized.As he was lifted up on the crest of wave after wave, the vague spark oflight that designated the _Swallow_ grew fainter and farther away.Finally it was shut out from view altogether.
The water was buoyant, and aided by his expertness as a swimmer Dave didnot sink at all, and found little difficulty in keeping afloat. But howlong could this state of things last? he asked himself.
There was not the least possible hope of any aid from the _Swallow_. Hehad gone overboard unseen by any person except Gerstein.
"He will tell no one," reflected Dave. "In the first place it would bedangerous for him to do so, for they would suspect treachery on hispart. In the next place he is probably glad to get rid of me. UnlessBob or father look into my stateroom, I shall not be missed beforemorning. By that time----"
Dave halted all conjecture there. The present was too vital to waste inidle surmises. He planned to use all the skill and endurance hepossessed to keep afloat. He might do this for some hours, hecalculated, unless the waves grew much rougher.
"It's a hard-looking prospect," Dave told himself, as he began to feelseverely the strain of his situation. "Adrift on the Pacific! How farfrom land? As I know, the _Swallow's_ course was out of the regularocean track. The chances of ever seeing father and the others again arevery slim."
Something slightly grazed Dave's arm as he concluded this rathermournful soliloquy. He grabbed out at the touch of the foreign object,but missed it. Then a second like object floated against his chest.This the lad seized.
It proved to be a piece of wood, part of a dead tree, about three inchesin diameter and two feet long. Dave retained the fragment, althoughscarcely with the idea of using it as a float.
To his surprise these fragments, some large, some small, continued topass him. In fact, he seemed in a sort of wave-channel, which caughtand confined them, forming a species of tidal trough.
One piece was of quite formidable size. Dave threw his arms over it witha good deal of satisfaction, for it sustained his weight perfectly.
"Queer how I happened right into their midst. Where do they come from,anyhow?" reflected Dave. "Is it a hopeful sign of land?"
There was a lull in the tempest finally, but the darkness still hungover all the sea like a pall. Dave longed for daybreak. The discoveryof the driftwood had given him a good deal of courage and hope.
For over eight hours Dave rocked and drifted, at the mere caprice of thewaves. Wearied, faint, and thirsty, he tried to cheer himself thinkingof the possibility of land near at hand.
Daylight broke at last, but a dense haze like a fog hung over the watersfor an hour before the sun cleared it away. Eagerly Dave scanned inturn each point of the compass. A great sigh of disappointment escapedhis lips.
"No land in sight," he said; "just the blank, unbroken ocean."
His plight was a dispiriting one. Dave felt that unless succor came insome shape or other, and that, too, very soon, his chances of everseeing home and friends again were indeed remote.
He noted the widespread mass of driftwood with friendly eyes, for itbroke the monotony of the green expanse that tired the sight with itsillimitable continuity.
"There's a pretty big piece of driftwood," Dave said, looking quite adistance towards a larger object than he had yet seen. It rose and fellwith the swaying of the wave. "If I could find a few such pieces Imight construct a raft."
Dave began to swim off in the direction of the object in the distance.A great cry of joy escaped his lips as he neared it.
"It is not a log," he shouted rapturously, "but a boat. A small yawl.Oh, dear, but I am thankful!"
In his urgency to reach the boat Dave let go of the piece of driftwoodthat had served him so well. His eyes grew bright and he forgot all hisdiscomfort and suffering.
With a kind of cheer Dave lifted himself over the side of the littleyawl. It was flimsy, dirty, and old. The prow was splintered, one ofthe seats was broken out, but Dave sank down into the craft with aluxurious sense of relief and delight.
There were no oars, but Dave did not think much of that. He hadsomething under him to sustain him. That was the main thing for thepresent.
"I can make rude oars of some of the driftwood and the front seat," hecalculated. "If it rains I shall have water, and there are cloudscoming up fast in the west now. I may catch some fish. What's inthere, I wonder," and Dave pulled open the door of the little locker.
"Hurrah!" he shouted this time, utterly unable to control his intensesatisfaction. Lying in the locker was a rudely made reed basket. Inthis were two bottles. Dave speedily assured himself that they heldwater, warm and brackish, but far from unwelcome to the taste.
About twenty hardtack cakes and a chunk of cheese completed the contentsof the basket.
"I never ate such a meal before," jubilated Dave, having satisfied hishunger and carefully repacked the supplies. He paused to read a part ofa label pasted across the front of one of the bottles of water. "Thiscame from the _Raven_."
Dave had a right to think this. At one time the bottle had held somekind of table sauce. Written under the label were the words "Captain'stable, _Raven_."
"The boat, too, must have belonged to the _Raven_" said Dave, "althoughI don't know that surely. It looks as if some one of Captain Nesik'screw had put to sea in this yawl, and was probably lost in the storms ofthe last week."
A great rain came up about an hour later. There was not much wind.Following the rain a dense mist shut out sea and sky.
Dave could only drift at the will of the waves. He had it in mind toconstruct some kind of oars, but he did not know the distance or eventhe direction of land.
The day grew well on into the afternoon. Dave had removed the door ofthe locker. He had also gathered into the boat the longest pieces ofdriftwood he could find. Fortunately he had discovered in the lockerseveral pieces of fine tarred rope, which would prove a great help inmaking the oars. He was laying out his work when a curious flappingnoise made him look up. He sprang to his feet. Pouncing down upon himwere four immense birds. They were not eagles, but fully twice as largeas any eagle he had ever seen.
They attacked Dave in unison. One clawed into his left arm whileanother gave him a severe blow with one of its wings, swooped down uponthe exposed reed basket, seized it, and flew away with it. Davesnatched up a piece of driftwood.
He shouted to frighten the birds, swinging his weapon among themvigorously. One he disabled and it fell into the water and floated outof sight, the other two he finally beat off.
The loss of the provision basket troubled Dave severely. He sankbreathless into the boat, his face and hands badly scratched andbleeding.
The next instant, to the infinite surprise of Dave Fearless, a gruffvoice sounded through the mist:
"Ahoy there! What's the rumpus?"