CHAPTER XXIV
"THIS IS WHERE I STOP"
Night was closing in when Mike Murphy pointed the _Deerfoot_ northwardand circled around the end of Squirrel Island, and turning eastwardglided midway between it and Ocean Point, the lower extremity of LinekinNeck. He was now headed toward the ocean, and passed above Ram Islandlight. That being accomplished, he caught the swell of the Atlantic,long and heaving, but not enough so to cause him the least misgiving.
He was doing a very rash thing. He ought to have gone to Southport andthere awaited the return of his friends, but the reckless bent of hisdisposition caused him to make this excursion preparatory to returninghome.
"It will be something to brag about to the byes, as dad used to say whinhis friends carried him home after he'd been battered up by them thatengaged in a friendly dispoot with him."
He decided to keep to the eastward until clear of the numerous islands,and then make a circuit and return to Southport.
Now the National Motor Boat law contains a number of rigid requirements,of which Mike Murphy knew nothing. Such ignorance was excusable, sincehe had never been on the launch at night. His lack of knowledge on thesepoints was almost certain to bring serious trouble.
In the first place, the _Deerfoot_ belonged to what is known as theSecond Class of motor boats, which includes all that are twenty-six feetor more and less than forty feet in length. Such craft are required todisplay at night a bright white light as near the stem as practicableand a white light aft to show all around the horizon. With thesesafeguards a motor boat can be easily located, except in a fog, when thefoghorn must be kept going. As Mike plunged through the gloom he neverthought of the necessity of displaying lights. It would be a miracle,therefore, if he was not overtaken by disaster.
And yet it may be doubted whether such a precaution would have helpedhim, since he was equally ignorant of the rules of the road. If anapproaching steamer or large craft sounded a single blast from itswhistle, he would not have suspected that it was an order for him to goto starboard, or the right, or that two whistle blasts directed him toturn to port, or the opposite direction. Such are the rules by day. Forgovernment at night, the following doggerel is helpful:
"When both side lights you see ahead, Port your helm and show your red, Green to green, or red to red, Perfect safety, go ahead.
When upon your port is seen, A stranger's starboard light of green, There's not so much for you to do, For green to port keeps clear of you."
All this, I repeat, was unknown to Mike, who having gone half a dozenmiles to sea, decided it was time to circle about and return home. Heretained a fair idea of his bearings. The distant glimmer of lights tothe westward indicated, as he believed, Squirrel Island. Ram Islandlight was nearer, and the blinking star farthest away was the governmentwarning on Burnt Island.
All this was true, and the youth sitting with his hands on the wheel andgliding swiftly forward saw nothing to cause alarm. Thisself-complacency, however, was suddenly broken by the abrupt appearanceof a white light dead ahead. A second glance told him it was not far offand was rapidly bearing down upon him. He swung over the steering wheel,so as to go to the right, but the next instant he saw that the big shipwas still coming toward him as if determined to run him down.
The startled Mike was so rattled for the moment, that instead of usinghis whistle, he sprang to his feet and shouted:
"Kaap off! kaap off, or I'll run over ye!"
It may be doubted whether his voice carried to anyone on the schooner,for none there could know that a small boat was directly ahead. Mikeheard the rush of the water against her towering bow, saw the gleam ofseveral lights, and for a moment believed it was all over with him.There were precious few seconds at his command, but pulling himselftogether, he whirled the wheel around and the next minute slid along thelength of the black hull, so near that he could have touched it with hisoutstretched hand. One of the wondering crew chanced to catch sight ofthe small craft as it shot by and called out:
"What boat is that?"
"The _Olympic_ just come in from Cork!"
"You fool! where are your lights?"
"Don't need 'em. Ye may thank yer stars that I didn't run ye down andsplit ye in two, but don't get too gay wid me."
It was a close call. Mike remembered now that he ought to have displayedlights, but he hesitated to leave the wheel for that purpose, and itseemed to him that nothing of the kind was likely to be repeated.
"There'll be more lights showing by and by and I can git along without'em."
He did not dream that he was flagrantly violating the law and was liableto be punished therefore. His anxiety was now to get back to Southportwithout more delay.
"It isn't on account of dad," he said to himself, "for he was so mad twohours ago that he can't get any madder, but it's mesilf that's beginningto feel lonely."
He had been so much interested with every phase of his novel experiencethat, strange as it may seem, up to this time he had forgotten the lunchwhich he bought at the Isle of Springs before the boatman rowed himacross to Westport. Suddenly it struck him that he was never in all hislife so hungry. The sandwiches were somewhat mashed out of shape fromhaving been carried so long in his pocket, but they could not havetasted better.
"The one sad fayture about 'em is that there isn't a dozen times asmany, as Barney O'Toole remarked whin he found he had only twoCorkonians to fight.
"I won't say anything about this ghost of a maal whin I arrive at home,and mither will be so touched wid pity that after reminding dad to giveme a big whaling she will allow me to ate up all that happens to be inthe house."
A few minutes later, Mike became aware of a wonderfully strange thing:Burnt Island light instead of winking at him from the westward haddanced round to the extremity of Linekin Neck, on the north. Not to beoutdone, Ram Island light had whisked far up in the same direction.Other illuminations had also taken part in the mix-up till things weretopsy turvy.
You know that when a person is lost, the points of the compass seem togo astray, which peculiar fact will explain the mystification of MikeMurphy. He was sensible enough, however, to know that the confusion waswith himself, and he held the boat to a true course. Not long after, hewas startled by striking some obstruction, though so slight that it didnot jar the craft.
"And phwat could that be?" he asked, rising with one hand on the wheelwhile he peered into the gloom. "It couldn't have been that ship thatgot swung round and got in my way, and I run her down. If it was thesame, she warn't showing any lights--ah! I mind what it is. The_Deerfut_ has run over somebody's lobster pot, which the same signifiesthat it's mesilf that is the biggest lobster of all fur coming thus outof me road."
It will be recalled that the night was unusually dark, relieved now andthen by bits of moonlight which struggled through the clouds. At notime, however, was Mike able to see more than a few rods in anydirection. As a rule, he could barely make out the flag fluttering atthe bow.
Just beyond the point where he ran over the lobster pot, a rift in theclouds revealed the vague outlines of a small rowboat, and the head andshoulders of two men. If they carried a lighted lantern, it was in thebottom of their craft, and Mike saw nothing of it. They were so far tothe right that there was no danger of collision, and he hailed them.
"Ship ahoy! Where bound?"
"None of yer bus'ness," was the answer. "Who are you?"
"The same to yersilf; if I had ye on boord I'd hammer some good mannersinto ye."
These threatening words evidently scared the couple, who, not knowinghow many were on the larger boat, decided not to run any risk. Mike,despite his brief sojourn in Maine, had heard of the illegal practice ofmany persons on the coast who gathered lobsters of less length than thelaw prescribes. He could not avoid giving the men a parting shot:
"I'll mind to report that ye are the spalpeens that are scooping inshort lobsters."
They made no reply, for it is not impossible that the youth
spoke thetruth when he made the charge.
"I'm hoping that the world will soon get tired of twisting round thewrong way, for it's hard to convince mesilf that I'm not right, whichthe same don't often happen wid me. As I figure out it's a straightcoorse to Southport. If me dad has forgot to show a signal light at homeor at Mr. Landon's, I may run down the island before I obsarves thesame--phwat does that maan?"
The engine was plainly going badly, and the trouble steadily grew moremarked. He had not the remotest idea of the cause.
"I wonder now if the same is growing tired; I oughter been more marcifuland give the ingine a rist."
He listened closely, and a fear crept into his throat. If a breakdownshould take place, he would be in bad situation, not knowing what to doand far beyond all help.
Suddenly the engine came to a dead standstill. He swung the fly-wheelaround but there was no response. The _Deerfoot_ was out of commission.He sighed:
"Here's where I stop, as Terence O'Flaherty said whin he walked aginstthe side of his house."