Boy With the U. S. Life-Savers

  CHAPTER VI

  A BLAZON OF FLAME AT SEA

  Three weeks after the rescue of the crew of the _City of Nipigon_,navigation on Lake Superior closed down for the winter. Although thework had been hard and, during the last month, quite exhausting, Ericfelt keen regrets in leaving the station and in bidding good-by to Dan.He had become quite attached to the old puzzle-maker and had grown torealize how valuable his help had been.

  Eric found, moreover, that not only had the hermit mathematician startedhim along the right road to algebra, to "trig." and even toward thegeometry which he once hated, but also that his training with the oldpuzzle-maker had taught him how to study. He settled down in deadlyearnest in Detroit, keeping up with all his special studies and alsodoing a good deal of hard reading with his father's help. The inspectorknew that the entrance examination to the Coast Guard Academy was one ofthe stiffest tests in the government service and he willingly gave histime to help Eric. It was a winter of hard work and, aside from someskating and ice-hockey, Eric took little time off from his books.

  Largely as a result of the puzzle-maker's guidance and by his ownpersistent digging, Eric was well prepared for the examinations in June.He had some difficulty with rules and forms, but the essentialprinciples of things were fixed solidly in his mind, so that when thelists were published, Eric found his name third, and second inMathematics. His rival was a young fellow, named Homer Tierre, from WebbAcademy, who was entering as a cadet engineer. The two boys struck up afriendship outside the examination room, and Eric was delighted to findthat his new acquaintance had passed, with him, so high in the list thatthe acceptance of both was sure.

  Although, at the Academy, Homer and Eric were apart a good deal, the onebeing a cadet of engineers and the other a cadet of the line, still theyhad many classes together. Eric, accustomed to the life-saving work, wasable to be a good deal of help to his friend and taught him many tricksof swimming that he had learned from the Eel, two years before.Moreover, having been used to the strict discipline of the oldlighthouse inspector at home, Eric fell readily into the rigid rules ofthe Academy and often was able to save his friend from some pickle forwhich the latter was headed. Homer's assistance was equally valuable toEric, for the young cadet engineer had been daft about machinery eversince he was old enough to bang a watch to pieces to find out what madeit go, and he was able to instill into Eric some of his own enthusiasm.This friendship was an added joy to Eric's delight in the Academy. Hehad never been more happy than during his first year as a cadet.

  Eric was fortunate in having the right angle to life on entering theAcademy, so that he did not have any difficulty in understanding thecharacter of the discipline. A number of his classmates, conscious thatthey were training for commissions, considered themselves as juniorofficers. They were quickly set right on this mistaken idea, but theprocess of disabusing some of them was a sharp one. One member of theclass, in particular, had the notion that the Academy was a matter ofbooks, smart uniforms, and a preparation for epaulets. When he foundthat he had to drill as a private, toil as a member of a gun crew,handle heavy work, use his delicate fingers in knotting and splicing andso forth, he entered a mild protest. He was set right by a homely rebukefrom one of the instructors, an old sea-dog who knew everything aboutseamanship from the log of Noah's Ark to the rigging of a modernsea-plane.

  BREECHES-BUOY DRILL.

  Firing Lyle gun in corner; shot seen carrying line to mast to right offlagpole; rest of crew preparing to erect tripod.

  Courtesy of U.S. Coast Guard.]

  BREECHES-BUOY DRILL. RESCUING SURVIVORS.

  Line has been carried to mast, and made fast; hawser pulled out; shoreend carried over tripod; third line run out with block carryingbreeches-buoy line; crew is seen hauling on line which brings in thesurvivor.

  Courtesy of U.S. Coast Guard.]

  "You, Mr. Van Sluyd," he said bluntly, "if you haven't the nerve to doan enlisted man's work, nor the brains to do it better'n he can, whatuse'll you be as an officer?"

  To do Van Sluyd justice, however, he took the call-down in good part andknuckled to at the practical end of his training. Eric soon found thatthis rather drastic phrase was a very fair presentation of the point ofview of the Academy. The several instructors absolutely demanded agreater efficiency from the cadets than from the enlisted men. They hadto receive instruction from the non-commissioned officers, just like themen did. This was no joke, either, for a warrant officer in the CoastGuard, especially a boatswain, has a knowledge of his craft far beyond alandsman's imaginings.

  "Homer," said Eric to his friend one day, after a particularly stiffbout of gunnery mechanics, "is there anything that's ever been inventedthat we don't have to do here?"

  "If there is, I haven't heard of it," his chum agreed. "Let's see, we'vegot navigation, and surveying, and physics, and chemistry, and gunnery,and tactics, and engineering, and ship-building, and--"

  "Stop it, Homer," protested Eric, "you'd have to talk for a week just tomake a list. I've often wondered if all this stuff is necessary."

  "It sure is," his chum answered; "that's why I came into the Coast Guardinstead of the Navy. There's a heap more variety, by nature of the work.A fellow's got to know everything about the handling of sailing ships,because part of the job is the handling of sailing ships in distress.He's got to be a sharp on towage, because he's got to take risks instorms that drive an ocean-going tug to port. He's got to know everybreed of steamship and variety of engine, because the information's aptto be called on 'most any time."

  "Yes, I suppose that's so," agreed Eric. "Navigation is just as bad. Inthe engineering end, you don't have as much of that, Homer, as we do,but I tell you, it's a fright the amount of stuff we have to learn. Youtake an ordinary ship captain. He only has to run into a few ports, and,in any case, he never goes near dangerous shoals. All he's got to learnis to keep away from them. But there isn't an inch on the American coastfrom Maine to Texas or from Alaska to Southern California that we don'thave to remember. Almost any day a fellow's likely to have to chase intoa bad shoal to help some ship that's fast on a lee shore; and that'susually in bad weather--it's no time to guess, then, you've got to besure."

  "I sometimes doubt," said Homer, "if all this infantry drill is going tobe any use."

  "Oh, I can see the use of that, all right," replied Eric. "In theSpanish-American War, the Coast Guard cutters did a lot of work, and,just the other day, our men were called on to keep San Domingo in order.After all, Homer, the Coast Guard is a military arm, just as much as thenavy."

  "They don't worry you the way they do us," groaned the young cadetengineer, "over all the different sorts of machinery for the handling ofbig guns. It's thorough, all right; there isn't a chap in our class whocouldn't figure out and explain every process of manufacture andmounting, up to the actual work of handling the gun in an engagement."

  "I don't see that you've got any kick coming," Eric retorted, "youalways said you liked machinery. Now I haven't much use for mathematics,though I don't hate it quite as much as I did, and yet we get enoughcoast and geodetic surveying to prepare us for exploring a new world. Isuppose they figure that if the United States ever annexes Mars, a CoastGuard crew will be put in charge."

  "Likely enough," said the other, "but isn't that what you like aboutit?"

  "Sure, it's great," agreed Eric. "I'm just crazy over the Academy. Iwouldn't be anywhere else in the world. I don't believe there's acollege within a mile of it for real training. There's all the pep to itthat a Naval School has got to have, and although they hold us down sohard, after all, we get a lot of fun out of it. And take them 'by andlarge,' as the shellbacks say, don't you think the Coast Guard crowd isjust about the finest ever?"

  "You bet," Homer answered with emphasis. "It was seeing how they handledthings that first headed me for the service. Did I ever tell you whatmade me want to join?"

  "No," Eric replied, "I don't think you ever did."

  "It was in New York," his friend be
gan. "I was there with Father. Wewere doing the sights of the town and he took me down with him to thewater-front. He took the occasion to call on the Senior Captain of theCoast Guard stationed there. They were old cronies.

  "While they were talking, there came a 'phone from the Navy Yard. Onaccount of the Great European War the Coast Guard had undertaken somespecial neutrality duty in New York harbor. The Navy had lent a tug forthe purpose. The 'phone message was to say that while the Coast Guardwas perfectly welcome to the tug, on which the patrol was being done,the tug captain was compulsorily absent in sick bay.

  "The lieutenant, who had charge of the patrol,--he didn't look mucholder than I do--answered the 'phone. Evidently the admiral in commandof the Brooklyn Navy Yard must have been talking to him, personally,because I heard his answer,

  "'Certainly, Admiral. I shall be able to take her out without the masteron board. As far as that goes, sir,' he added with an earnest laugh inhis voice, 'I think I could take out anything you've got, from afirst-class battleship down!'"

  "That was going some!" exclaimed Eric.

  "Wasn't it? But the joke of it was that the Admiral, not knowing thatthe Senior Captain had been in the office all the while, called him upand told him the story, ending with the statement,

  "'I don't know that I'd be willing to say as much for all mylieutenants!'

  "'I would!' the Coast Guard senior captain answered. And I figured rightthen and there, that the Coast Guard was what I wanted."

  "I almost feel like that lieutenant now," said Eric, "and I'm notthrough the first year. And after the cruise I'll be Johnny-on-the-spot,for sure."

  In some ways Eric was not altogether wrong in this statement, for histhorough knowledge of mathematics stood him in good stead in navigation.Questions such as "Great Circle Sailing" he ate alive, and a well knownproblem of "Equations of Equal Altitudes" was, to use his ownexpression, nuts to him.

  Eric had the sense of gratitude strongly developed, and he always keptthe old puzzle-maker informed of his progress. In return, the old manused to send him weird arithmetical problems, that it took the wholeclass weeks to work out.

  In spite of the strong discipline, the spirit of the Academy was socongenial that the cadets were able to get into personal relations withthe instructors. There was never the faintest overstepping of the mostrigid rule, there was nothing remotely resembling familiarity betweenany cadet and an instructor, but, at the same time, the heartiest goodfeeling existed. For example, realizing the value of outsidemathematical interests, the instructor in that subject used to allow theclass to bring to him any kind of problem. On more than one occasion theinstructor was as much interested in the puzzle-maker's devices as werethe boys themselves. Great was the triumph of the class, when, on oneoccasion, they worked out a problem that had been too much for the queerold mathematician in Michigan.

  The spring cruise on the practice ship _Itasca_ more than fulfilledEric's hopes. The salt of the sea was in his veins and he actuallysecured an approving phrase from the boatswain on one occasion--acompliment harder to get than from the Commandant of the Academyhimself. It was real hard training; the cadets had to handle the shipand do all the work aboard her, as well as to keep up with theirstudies. None the less, it was enjoyable, every minute of it, badweather as well as good, and at the end of his first year's cruise, Ericrealized to the full that he had chosen the career for which he was bestsuited.

  The boy's passionate interest in his work and his doggedness in studystood him in good stead. He had not dreamed that the course would be sothorough, nor that it would require such an incessant grind, but henever let up. By the end of the second year he was regarded as one ofthe most promising men in his class, and he had made several substantialfriendships with his classmates. The Academy had none of the "prize"incentives of many colleges. A cadet had to work for all that he wasworth just to pass. There were no half-way measures. Either a cadetpassed or he failed. It wasn't healthy to fail. By the end of his secondyear Eric was well up in his class. He had qualified as a corporal inthe military drills, he had secured the coveted honor of gunner's mate,and he was even looked upon with favor by "Tattoo Tim," alias BoatswainEgan of the _Itasca_.

  Eric never forgot the first day when he was allowed to con a ship. Itwas right at the beginning of his third cruise. He had put a gun crewthrough its drill, under the eye of the officer, and felt that he hadacquitted himself creditably.

  "Mr. Swift," said the first lieutenant to him, "put the ship's positionon the chart."

  Eric saluted and withdrew. A few minutes later, returning to theexecutive officer, he answered:

  "Forty-one degrees ten minutes north; seventy-one degrees twenty-twominutes west, sir."

  "Very good: Lay off a course from this point to a point ten miles northby west from Cape Race light."

  In less than ten minutes Eric was back with a diagram of the course,which the officer inspected thoroughly.

  "You may steer the course," he said.

  Eric's nerves were in good control, but he had a jumpy feeling when herealized that he was actually in charge. Once, and only once, he got alittle panicky, and, turning to the officer on the bridge, said:

  "Should I keep her out a bit, sir?"

  "You are steering the course," was the officer's reply. It was all up tothe boy.

  "Make it nor'west by west half west," Eric said a little tremulously tothe helmsman, as they came in sight of Sankaty Head on Nantucket Island.

  "Nor'west by west half west, sir," the helmsman repeated, porting hishelm a trifle.

  After the ship had proceeded a certain distance, the lieutenant calledanother of the first-class men on the bridge and he took his turn. Atthe end of the trip the officer summoned the class.

  "Mr. Swift," he queried, "why did you not take the Muskeget Channel?"

  Eric colored.

  "I hadn't remembered exactly, sir," he explained, "the depths of thechannels near the Cross Rip Shoals. I think I had them right, sir, but Iwasn't sure enough of myself to feel that I ought to risk the ship."

  "You will remember them, hereafter?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Mr. Van Sluyd," continued the lieutenant, turning to another member ofEric's class.

  "Yes, sir."

  THE LIGHTSHIP THAT WENT ASHORE.

  Columbia River vessel which blew over a sand-bar and had to be takenoverland through a forest to be launched again.

  Courtesy of U.S. Bureau of Lighthouses.]

  GUARDING THE GRAVEYARD OF THE DEEP.

  The Diamond Shoal Lightship, anchored outside the quicksands off CapeHatteras that no other vessel can face and live.

  Courtesy of U.S. Bureau of Lighthouses.]

  "Near Monomoy you stood in a little too close. Keep farther out from theShovelful Shoal. If, for any reason, you are compelled to go as close asyou did to the point, keep the lead going."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Mr. Cunningham?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "In rounding Cape Cod, sailing an arc, change your course morefrequently. It will save time and coal."

  "Yes, sir."

  And, in similar fashion, the officer took up each little detail, dealingwith the first-class men after they had shown what they could do. Fromthat test of responsibility many of the cadets came down, white-lipped.It was a striking test of a lad's character as well as of his abilities.Some daring youths would shape as close a course as possible, shavingdangers by the narrowest margin. They were reminded that if a CoastGuard cutter touched bottom, no matter how lightly, even without theslightest injury, there would be an investigation. If it were found thatthe officer in charge had been guilty of negligence, even in thesmallest degree, court martial was possible.

  Other cadets, again, timid by nature or not sure of the course, wouldsteer a long way round. They would be reminded of wastage and also ofthe fact that in rescue work, minutes, even seconds, might meaneverything. If, under the test, a cadet showed ignorance of his duties,then he was in for a grilling.
>
  In gunnery, Eric did not shine. He could always work out the necessaryproblems of elevating the gun to the right height and figuring out thedrop of a shell of a certain weight at a certain distance. Yet, in spiteof himself, there was always some little trick he could not catch. Thatwas Van Sluyd's specialty. He had the "feel" of it, some way, and by theend of his third year he was as expert in gunnery as Eric was inseamanship. In the handling of a ship Eric was easily the best in hisclass. It was not until nearly the end of this third and last cruise onthe _Itasca_, however, that he found his opportunity for personaldistinction.

  It was a dark, blowy night. Eight bells of the second dog watch had onlybeen struck a few minutes before and the officers were chatting afterdinner. Eric was on duty on the bridge with the second lieutenant, whenthe wireless sending apparatus began to buzz "S O S," "S O S," as theoperator relayed a message he evidently had just received. At the samemoment the shrill whistle of the speaking-tube that connects the bridgewith the wireless room was heard.

  "You may answer, Mr. Swift," the lieutenant said.

  Eric picked up the tube, answered "Hello!" and then repeated theoperator's words to the officer:

  "Liner _Kirkmore_, on fire and sinking, forty-one degrees, elevenminutes north; thirty-five, sixteen west; crew and passengers to boats."

  With a word to Eric, the lieutenant dispatched the messenger to reportto the captain, plotted the position of the _Kirkmore_ on the chart,and, less than two minutes after the receipt of the wireless message,the _Itasca_ had changed her course and was speeding under forceddraught into the night. The cutter had broadcasted the call and word hadbeen received from land stations and other vessels that the call hadbeen heard. Still the _Itasca_ was one of the nearest to the reportedlocation of the vessel in distress and she fairly hissed through thewater.

  Presently there was another message from the wireless room, and, asbefore, Eric took up the speaking tube and reported to the officer ofthe deck.

  "'Very strange thing, sir,' he repeated, after the operator, 'I'mpicking up a faint call from a small apparatus. I think it must be onone of the boats. The _Lucania_ is racing for the _Kirkmore_, I'vepicked up her call.'"

  "Ask him what he considers strange?" said the officer.

  Eric put the query and again repeated:

  "He says, sir: 'It's this way, sir. The first call stated that all thepassengers and crew had taken to the boats.'"

  "Well?"

  "That call has been repeated several times and every one picked it upthat way. Then there's a message coming from the boats, giving justwhere they are."

  "That all seems straight enough."

  "Yes, sir. But the operator says the wireless is still working on theship!"

  "On the _Kirkmore_?"

  "Yes, sir. And Jenkins says he is sure that it's not the regularoperator. It's an amateur."

  "That sounds as if there were some people still left on the ship. Askhim what the message is?"

  Eric transmitted the request.

  "He says it's the same call, sir, exactly."

  "The first one?"

  "Yes, sir. That every one is in the boats. Only he says it's givenjerkily and very slow."

  "Find out what you can about it, Mr. Swift."

  "Yes, sir."

  Eric ran down to the wireless room.

  "Acts like a man who doesn't know much about wireless, sir. I'm sure,sir, that it couldn't be the operator, not even on a tramp steamer.There's hardly an amateur who would make such a mess of it," said theoperator.

  "What does he say?" asked Eric. "Can't you get word to him?"

  "No, sir. That's what's puzzling me. I've called and called, and he paysno attention."

  "Do you suppose your sending apparatus is in good order?"

  "Yes, sir," the operator replied. "Working perfectly. There's two orthree other ships calling the _Kirkmore_, and she doesn't answer themeither. I've talked to most o' them, sir."

  "Who's the nearest?"

  "We seem to be nearest to the ship, sir," said the operator, "but the_Lucania_ is the nearest to the boats. They seem quite a bit to thesouth'ard."

  "Running into the line of travel, I suppose," said Eric. "What do youthink is the meaning of that call?" he added.

  "I think, sir," said the operator, "somebody must have been forgottenand left behind."

  "But why doesn't he answer?"

  "Maybe the receiving apparatus is broken down. There it is again, sir,"the Coast Guard operator paused. "No, sir, it's not the operator. Idon't think I could even tell what he means if it hadn't been gone overso often."

  "Well," the captain said, when Eric reported the circumstances, "if the_Lucania_ is nearer the boats than we are, and we are nearer the ship,we'd better find out who's sending that call."

  "Yes, sir," Eric answered formally.

  In the meantime the knowledge of the disaster had spread through theship, and there was much excitement, when, one point off the port bow,the glare of the burning steamer showed against the murk of midnight.

  Every one not on duty, and those on duty who were able, ran to the portrail. As the _Itasca_ steamed on, under forced draught, quivering asher engines throbbed under her, the flare on the bow increased inbrightness. In half an hour's time it could be quite clearly made out asa steamer on fire, the dense cloud of smoke being illumined from belowby the glare of the flames.

  "I hope the operator was wrong. If there is anybody on board," saidEric, in a low voice, to his friend Homer, "they wouldn't have muchchance."

  "Is the call still coming?" his chum asked.

  "No," Eric answered, "nothing for twenty minutes."

  The Coast Guard cutter speedily raised the hull of the burning steamer.Her stern was much higher out of water than her bow, and amidships shewas all aflame, belching up dense volumes of smoke.

  A message came into the radio room.

  "The _Lucania_ reports that she has picked up three of the boats," saidthe operator through the tube to the first lieutenant on the bridge."The fourth boat is still missing."

  "What's that craft over there, I wonder?" queried Eric, pointing to thestarboard bow where a searchlight flickered into the sky.

  "That's the _La Savoie_, I heard some one say," his friend replied;"she must have been coming up on the jump. We'll have half a dozen bigliners here before morning."

  "It's a wonderful thing, the wireless," the boy said meditatively; "fromhundreds of miles away, every one rushes to the rescue. When you realizethat every extra ten miles means hundreds of dollars out of the pocketsof steamship companies and every hour's delay may be a seriousinconvenience, it does look great to see the way every one dropspersonal concerns to go to the rescue."

  "I wonder what would happen if a captain didn't?"

  "There'd be a whale of a row. Court-martial and all that sort of thing."

  "You can't court-martial a merchant-service man," protested Homer.

  "He'd lose his ship, anyway."

  "But suppose he made out he didn't hear the call?"

  "Be sensible," Eric retorted. "How could he do that? Bribe the operator,or threaten him?"

  "That's true," said Homer, thoughtfully. "It would look pretty bad ifthe wireless outfit on a ship was shut down, as soon as an 'S O S' camein."

  "I don't believe there's a wireless operator in the business who'd standfor it," the boy declared. "They're a high-grade bunch of men. I'd bewilling to bet if any operator got such an order, before he quit he'dsend out a message to the nearest station or ship, telling the wholestory."

  "And then what?"

  "Why, if the wireless was shut down then, and the operator told thetruth of it, they'd tar and feather that skipper. Commercialism may beall right on land, but when you come right down to the bones of thething, there's mighty few men on salt water that'll ever do a dirtytrick to another man."

  "Right you are," agreed Homer; "a shellback is the real thing in apinch. By ginger," he continued, "doesn't she burn! Surely there can'tbe anybody on b
oard of her."

  The _Itasca_ was now rapidly approaching the burning steamer. Amid theroar of the flames and the hiss of the sea against heated iron was heardthe thin whine of the speaking tube whistle.

  "Call from the burning steamer, sir, I think," said the operator, "butthere's no meaning to it."

  The captain spoke rapidly to the first lieutenant and the good shipbegan to tremble from stem to stern as the engines were reversed andthe helm shifted so as to bring the sea a little on the port bow.

  "Mr. Sutherland," came the first lieutenant's voice, "clear away thestarboard whaleboat."

  Eric stepped forward, for this was his station. The boat's crew sprangto their stations, the whaleboat was lowered to the rail, and as the_Itasca_ lost her headway, the boat was neatly dropped in the water. Thesea had looked a bit rough from the bridge, but down at the water's edgethe waves were distinctly high.

  Lieutenant Sutherland, who was also the instructor in mathematics, wasan absolute wonder in many ways, but small boat work was not much in hisline. Still, he handled her well. To Eric, of course, the rough sea didnot matter. He was used to that in his life-saving work, and, indeed,every one forgot the danger as the boat pulled on in the lurid crimsonof the burning ship. They came close, and hailed.

  There was no answer, nothing but the dull roar of the flames in the holdand the spitting hiss as some spray was flung over the vessel's side. Noone appeared on deck. The bow, where it was high above the water wascherry red hot, and even the more submerged stern seemed absolutelyuntenable.

  "There can't be any one on board," said the third lieutenant. "Youdidn't hear a hail?"

  "No, sir," answered Eric, "but Jenkins caught another call just beforewe left."

  "Very strange," commented the officer, looking thoughtfully at thederelict. The boat was pulling up towards the lee side and the smoke wasstifling. The burning steamer was rolling heavily and there was a litterof wreckage to leeward.

  "Can't board there," the officer said to himself. He gave orders to pullagain to windward.

  "Men," he said suddenly, "there may still be some one aboard that craft.Who'll volunteer?"

  A chorus answered him. Almost every man of the crew volunteered.

  "Which of you is the best swimmer?"

  There was a moment's pause and then one of the sailors answered,

  "Maryon is, sir."

  "Do you think you can get on board?" the officer said, turning to thesailor mentioned.

  "I can get to her all right, sir," the sailor answered, "and I'll try toget on board."

  "You may try then," was the reply; "we'll drop you right by her. Youcan swim around the stern and try the lee quarter."

  The sailor stripped, and fastening a light line under his arms, waitedfor the boat to take the required place. How Eric wished that the Eelwere there! But Maryon was a fair swimmer, and as soon as he struck outfor the ship, the boy felt that he need have no fears for him. Thesailor was still a couple of fathoms away from the side of the shipwhen, suddenly, a piece of wreckage up-ended on a sea and struck him.Those in the boat could not see how heavy was the blow, but it was clearthat the sailor was incapacitated, and the crew hauled him inboard. Hehad a nasty cut on his cheek and his collar-bone was broken. While hishurts were being attended to, Eric saluted the officer.

  "Well, Mr. Swift?"

  "Mr. Sutherland," he said, "I've done a lot of life-saving work, sir."

  "Well?"

  "I'd like to volunteer, sir, if I might," the boy replied.

  "You don't think it's too much for you?"

  "No, sir."

  "I remember. You are an expert swimmer, are you not?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "You are sure of yourself?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Very well, Mr. Swift," the officer answered, looking over him keenly,"You may go."

  With a quick pulse in his ears throbbing in excitement and elation, theboy slipped out of his cadet uniform and tied the life-line round him. Aswirl of eager oars brought the boat again beneath the stern of theburning steamer. Eric plunged into the sea, the thought flashing throughhis mind as he did so that he wished he could make a spectacular divelike those he used to envy in the Eel. That he was a swimmer showeditself the minute he touched the water. Without appearing to useone-half the effort Maryon had needed, the boy covered the distancebetween the boat and the flaming vessel in a few long strokes, watchingwarily for wreckage.

  There was a treacherous suction as the vessel rolled, but Eric, trainedto every form of danger in the line of rescue, kept close guard. He knewbetter than to make a false move from too great haste, and swam roundcautiously, seeking for a place to board. The heat from that floatingmass of belching flame was terrific, and more than once, as a gustbrought down a cloud of fumes over him, the boy thought he wouldsuffocate.

  At last he saw, trailing over the quarter, a wire rope, one of the staysof the after derrick, and he made ready to climb. The stay evidently hadbeen melted through at the derrick head, but the heated end had fallenin the water and cooled. Up this the swimmer swarmed, though the frayedwire drew blood from his hands and legs at every point he touched it. Atlast he reached the bulwark, grasped it and jumped aboard.

  With a sharp cry of pain he leaped back to the rail again.

  The deck was burning hot!

  In spite of the spray that now and again came spattering over thederelict, the heat had been conducted throughout the craft. Not havingthought of the possibility of a heated metal deck, Eric was barefoot. Ofwhat use was it for him to be on board unless he could find out whetherany one were there! The decks were empty. The steamer had sunk too deepfor any one to be below, and live. There was only one place in which asurvivor might still be--the sole remaining deck-house.

  Thither the wireless aerial led! There, if anywhere, was some desertedcreature, author of the unread message that had sparked across the sea.There, and there only--and between Eric and that deck-house lay thestretch of red-hot deck, a glowing barrier to attempted rescue.

  Surely it was beyond attempt!

  Like a flash came to the boy's remembrance the old ordeal for witchcraftin which a man had to walk fifty feet over red-hot plowshares, in which,if he succeeded without collapse, he was adjudged innocent. At once Ericrealized that some must have survived that awful test if the ordeal wasof any value. What man had done, man again could do! It was at least asgood a cause to save some man or woman from a fearful death as it was tosave oneself from penalty of witchcraft.

  Daring all, he leaped down from the rail on to the superheated deck.

  In spite of his stoicism, the boy could not repress a cry of agony, thatrang cruelly in the ears of his comrades in the boat. They had seen hisfigure outlined black against the red glare of the burning craft, andexulted. At the boy's cry, they shuddered, and more than one manblenched.

  The iron seared and crisped his flesh as his feet touched the torture.He could feel the skin curl and harden. Gritting his teeth, he sped attopmost speed of the house whither the aerials led.

  The door was jammed!

  Though the skin of his head seemed to tighten like a metal band, thoughhis lungs stabbed within him as he breathed, though the pain in his feetwas unendurable, Eric wrenched again and again at the handle, but thedoor would not budge. He called, but there was no answer. Almostdelirious with baffled rage and excruciating suffering, the boy hurledhimself against the door, throwing his shoulder out of joint with thepower of the blow. The door fell inwards and he fell with it.

  The heat that poured from the room was overpowering, a dull red glow inthe far corner of the floor showing that the flames were immediatelybeneath. With a gasp and a clutch on his reeling senses, Eric sawstretched out on the wireless table before him the figure of a man,moaning slightly, but insensible. Unable to stand on the hot floor,unable to escape from the room in which he had become trapped, he hadlain down on the instruments and his writhings near the key had sentthose tangled messages that the operator on the _Itasca_ ha
d not beenable to understand.

  Had it not been for the instinctive stimulus of his life-savingtraining, Eric would have deemed that the man was beyond help and wouldhave sought safety himself. But his whirling senses held the knowledgehow often life lingers when it appears extinct. Scarcely conscioushimself of what he did, Eric grasped the unconscious man in his arms,raced back across the terror of the red-hot deck, reached thestern--how, he never knew--threw his moaning burden overboard and divedin after him.

  The shock as his parched and blistered body struck the cold sea watersteadied Eric for a second, just long enough to grasp the man he hadrescued, as the latter came floating to the surface. Then the pain ofthe salt water upon his cruel burns smote him, and he felt himself giveway.

  He tugged twice at the life-line as a signal that he was at his lastgasp, bidding them pull in. Then, gripping the last flicker of hispurposed energy on the one final aim--not to loose hold in the sea ofthe man he had rescued from an intolerable death, the boy locked himselfto the sufferer in the "side carry" he once had known so well.

  A sinking blackness came over him, flashes of violet flame danced beforehis eyes, his head suddenly seemed to be as though of lead, his legsstiffened and refused to move, and in the lurid glare of the burningsteamer, rescuer and rescued sank beneath the waves. The last thing thatEric felt was the tug on the life-line underneath his arms. His cry forhelp was answered! The Coast Guard boat was near.