CHAPTER IX
THE END OF SI'S ADVENTURE
"I wonder why he doesn't cut himself loose?" observed Walter, as the sailors pulled with might and main for the spot where the unfortunate Yankee lad had last been seen.
"I reckon he's too bewildered to think of it," replied the officer. But in this he was mistaken; Si had tried to cut the fishline, but in his haste the pocket-knife had slipped from his grasp and sunk from sight. He had also tried to break the line, but it was both heavy and new, and the effort only made the cord cut into the wrist, around which it had become entangled in a most unexpected manner.
The fish at the hook, which was an albacore, or what is commonly called in Atlantic waters a tunny, was a powerful one, and kept the line taut at all times, even when swinging in somewhat of a semicircle. To haul back was out of the question, and so Si had to go along whether he would or not.
"I'm a goner, sure!" thought the boy, dismally. "This fish is going to carry me right down to the bottom!" But the fish did nothing of the sort. Instead, it kept close to the surface, so that Si got an occasional chance to catch his breath, although obtaining by no means all the air he wanted.
When the youth came up and caught sight of the small boat coming to rescue him, his hope revived. But only for a moment, for instantly the fish whirled around and began to carry him further off than ever.
"I've got to git loose of that line somehow!" said Si to himself, and began to work nervously with his disengaged hand. But as all know, a wet line is much harder to untie than a dry one, and it seemed to the boy that the knot grew tighter each instant.
Suddenly the fish took a new tack. For a brief spell the line loosened, then came a jerk which almost took Si's arm out by the socket, and on went the aquatic creature at a madder rate of speed than ever.
The course was now under water for a long time and the poor boy felt that his last moment in life was at hand. He wanted to breathe, and at last, unable to stand it longer, opened his mouth and gulped in the sea water. Then his head began to swim around, strange lights flashed before his eyes, and he lapsed into unconsciousness. He felt a second loosening of the line, followed by another tremendous jerk and a snap, and then knew no more.
On and on came the jollyboat, those aboard hardly knowing in what direction to head. Walter's eyes were cast to the right, and the officer's to the left.
"There! there!" cried the young sailor at length. "To the right, and be quick, or he will go down again!"
The rowboat was swung around with all possible speed and the rowers bent lustily to their task. Up went the boat on the top of one billow and then down and down in front of that to follow. Walter continued on the watch, and in his hand he held his pocket-knife, wide open and ready for use, should it be required.
Si had gone down twice when the boat came within a furlong of him. Now his body turned and began to sink again. Walter saw the drawn, half-lifeless face, and the sight chilled him to the very soul. Like a flash he was overboard and swimming to his chum with all haste. But he could not reach him and had to dive.
"Foolish boy!" cried the officer in charge. "He'll be drowned, too. Cease rowing, men, or you'll run into one or the other of them." And the sailors lay to, watching for the reappearance of the pair.
As Si went down for a third time, Walter caught him by the foot. He pulled hard and soon had his chum in his arms. He noticed that the line was now loose, having snapped a few feet away from the young fisherman's wrist.
"This way!" he cried, as he came up. "Don't hit us!"
"All right," answered the officer, and slowly the rowboat came up beside them. "Is he free of the line?"
"Yes."
"Good! Here, pass him this way. That's it. Now climb in yourself. By the look of him, I reckon you went after him in the nick of time."
It was no light task to enter the jollyboat in such a sea, and one of the sailors had to give Walter a hand aboard. "He isn't dead, is he?" was the eager question.
"I think not, lad. But he's had a close call." The officer turned to the rowers. "Back to the ship, boys, and waste no time. This is a case for the surgeons now."
Once at the side of the transport, Si was hoisted on board without delay and placed in charge of the chief surgeon and his assistants. The medical men rolled him over and over and held him up by the feet, bringing forth a large quantity of the ocean brine which he had swallowed. Then they worked his arms, to induce respiration, and at last they had the satisfaction of seeing him give a faint gasp.
"He'll live," said the chief surgeon. "But had he remained in the water a minute longer, it would have been all up with him."
"This settles fishing from the rail," said the captain of the transport. "I want to deliver everybody safe and sound at Manila if I can."
"I guess nobody will want to fish after this," put in the officer of the deck; and in this he was right: not a single line was thrown over for the balance of the trip.
It was Walter who nursed Si that night and the best part of the next day. Fortunately the recovery of the Yankee lad was rapid. But the remembrance of his experience with the strange fish made him shudder.
"I don't know what it was," he said. "But it was as powerful a fish as I ever struck, and I've struck a good many—off the coast o' Maine and on the Penobscot. He meant business, and if that line hadn't a-broke, I reckon he would have carried me fer miles and miles." Then he caught Walter's hand and gave it a tight squeeze. "I shan't forget what you've done fer me, old chap—it was so like you, too!" And a look passed between them that meant a good deal.
On the next morning it was plain to be seen that a storm was brewing, and as the transport was now close to Point Engano, on the northern coast of Luzon, and there were many small islands and dangerous reefs in the vicinity, a strict watch was kept and the Central was put under a reduced headway. Soon the wind was blowing little short of a gale, and from a distance came flashes of lightning and long-rolling claps of thunder.
"We are next to a storm now," remarked Walter, as he came to Si. "You ought to be on deck to see the waves. They are running mountain high."
"I'll be around by to-morrow, Walter. Are we in sight of land yet?"
"No, but one of the officers told me that Point Engano could not be far off. They have set a double lookout."
"I see the Central is pitching putty well. I thought I was going out of the bunk a minute ago," and Si braced himself against a corner post. "How dark it is growing!"
"The mainland is to the south of us, and there are a number of small islands to the north. It seems to me this would be a good place to get wrecked in."
Soon the hurricane—for it was nothing less—was upon them in all its grand fury. The wind whistled over the decks of the transport, rattling the windows and sweeping many loose objects overboard. All around, the ocean was whipped up into a milky-white foam, into which the ship plunged and heaved, creaking and groaning dismally. She was by no means a first-class craft and had been pressed into service only because of the urgency of the demand for a transport just at the time she had been in harbor at the Golden Gate, waiting for any cargo which could be picked up.
Soon the lightning came closer, lighting up the steerage, where the jackies bunked, with its vivid flashes, accentuating the gloom that followed. The pitching of the ship became more violent than before, and those on board had to hold fast or else run the risk of having their brains dashed out by being thrown headlong. Below everything was topsy-turvy, and even the old tars admitted that they had never experienced such a "choppy" storm before.
"Beats anything I ever saw," said one old fellow, who had been a gunner in the navy for fifteen years. "It's worse nor going around Cape Horn or meeting a bender on the Indian Ocean. We'll be doin' well to come out bottom side up." And several equally old sea-dogs agreed with him.
The storm continued, and at noon only a cold lunch could be served, for cooking was out of the question. The transport was running at less than a six-knot rate, and the captain was half of a mind to turn back, knowing that he must be close to shore or to some of the hidden reefs, only a few of which were located on the charts; for so far the nautical surveys around the Philippine Islands have been very imperfect.
But if the old hands were sobered by the situation, it would be hard to describe the feelings among the newly enlisted men, especially the soldiers, who knew little or nothing of life on shipboard.
"We'll go to the bottom, sure!" groaned one young fellow, who had come from a prairie farm and had never seen the ocean until he had set sail from San Francisco. "We can't stand this, and I know it. Oh, what wouldn't I give to be home again!" And he sank down on his bunk and covered his face with his hands.
"Rouse up there, Charley," said one of his friends. "Remember, you can die but once, and what's the difference if it's drowning or a Filipino bullet?"
"Oh, don't talk so, please don't, Frank," was the reply. "It's no joke, indeed it isn't!" And so the talking went on between the pair. Walter felt sorry for the prairie boy and presently walked over to give him a word of cheer.
"I don't think we'll go down," he said. "Storms like this are not unusual, and most ships weather them. The storm won't last much longer." And then the volunteer's face brightened a bit, although he was still doubtful. It must be said, however, that all the volunteers were not afraid. The majority of them took the storm, and the violent pitching of the transport, as a joke, and some of them indulged in a vast amount of "horse play" in consequence. One soldier bet another that he could stand alone on the lower deck and thread a sailor's needle by the light of a flash of lightning, and not only lost all his pocket money by the wager, but also got a bad tumble and ran the needle well into his thumb. Another bet that he could stand alone and balance a plate of soup on his palm for five minutes, and ended by slipping flat and dashing the soup into the face of an officer who happened to be passing. Little short of a row followed, which came to an end when a blinding flash of lightning lit up the ship from end to end. The flash of light was followed by a wild cry from the deck.
"Back ship! We are on the rocks! Back ship, or we are lost!" A grinding and a sickening crash followed, sending a shiver over the transport from stem to stern, and then the Central backed with all the strength of her powerful compound engines.