Chapter XIV: The Wreckers

The crew at the station were, even under ordinary circumstances, out of bed early in the morning; but since the wreckers had been at work on the stranded steamer there was little possibility any one, except a very deaf person, could sleep after the first signs of day appeared in the sky.

The wrecking tugs, when they did not return to the city at nightfall, anchored off the cove near the station, and their whistles were sounded vigorously fully half an hour before daybreak, in order that the men might be ready for work as soon as there was sufficient light.

As Sam Hardy said, “it came pretty rough on a fellow who’d been patrolling the coast till midnight, to be wakened at four o’clock,” but grumbling on the part of the life savers effected no change in the situation, and as a rule breakfast had been eaten before the man whose tour of duty ended only at daylight, had returned to the station.

On this morning when Tom Downey was to visit the city, all hands had been awakened even earlier than usual, and the keeper set off a full hour before Joe Cushing, who had the last trick at patrolling, came into the building.

“It’s like to be a long day for us, lad,” Sam Hardy said as he entered the kitchen where Benny was washing the breakfast dishes. “I’m thinkin’ you can’t be so very busy ’twixt now an’ eleven o’clock.”

“There’s nothing to be done around the house, so I counted on studying the _Regulations_ for a while.”

“It won’t do you any harm to drop that kind of work for a spell; you already know more of that precious book than any of us, except it may be Tom Downey, an’ there’s danger you’ll grow too wise in the work of life-saving. What do you say to havin’ a look at the wreckers? They are gettin’ well along with their job, an’ I allow the tugs will make a try at pullin’ the steamer off when this tide rises.”

“I’d like to go if it would be all right to leave,” Benny said thoughtfully, as he looked inquiringly at the cook, and the latter replied to the unspoken question:

“There’s no reason why you shouldn’t have an outin’, lad. It’ll do you solid good, for you’ve been shut up here too long. What about Fluff C. Foster?”

“I wouldn’t like to take him with me, for it’s too cold on the rocks, and where there are so many men at work he might get hurt.”

“Very well, leave him behind, an’ I’ll answer for it that he comes to no harm. Maje has given over all ideas of botherin’ him, and, besides, if you say the word, he sha’n’t be allowed to poke his pink nose out of doors.”

Benny put on the pea-jacket which was large enough to serve him as an overcoat, pulled the flaps of the sou’-wester over his ears, and, just as the sun was coming up from behind the restless expanse of water, the two set out, walking at full speed, for the cold was too intense to admit of any pleasant lingering by the way.

When they arrived at the scene of the wrecking operations it appeared very much to No. 8 as if Joe Cushing had made a mistake when he declared that the steamer might be saved. To the lad she looked like a hopeless wreck.

The sea had thrown her on her beam ends, and then forced her so high up on the shoal that nearly half the bottom was exposed to view. The bridge, a greater portion of both rails, and nearly everything on deck was missing, while the wreckage along shore explained where the top-hammer had gone.

“Been used rather rough, eh?” Hardy said as he and Benny stood on the cliff where a full view of the wreck could be had.

“It doesn’t seem possible that they can get her off, or, even if that might be done, that she would be fit for sea again.”

“In a mishap like this the worst of the mischief is all on the outside, lad. Most likely her hull is as sound as ever, and it only remains to get her afloat, when a little carpenter-work will finish the job. It’s a pity the steamers couldn’t go alongside, for then she might be raised in short order.”

The wrecking tugs were lying some distance off shore, and lighters had been drifted down over the shoal to the steamer’s side. A large number of men were at work making ready to break the cargo; others were running out anchors to prevent her being driven any further ashore, and yet another crew was gathering up the odds and ends which had been driven ashore.

Half a dozen small boats were moving back and forth from the steamer to the shore, and after surveying the scene from the cliff until the chilling wind suggested a retreat, Sam Hardy said:

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea to go on board, lad. What do you say to looking the old hooker over?”

“Do you think they’ll allow us on her, sir?”

“I reckon there won’t be any great row about it, lad. After what our crew, an’ especially you, have done, it would be odd if we should be warned to keep off.”

Benny was eager for a nearer view of the steamer, and Sam led the way down to the narrow beach where so much of heroism had been displayed.

“Hello, mates, will you take us off to the wreck?” Sam cried to four men who were launching a surf-boat bearing the name of a well-known wrecking tug.

“That we will, although I should think you might have seen enough already of yonder steamer,” one of the party replied cheerily.

“We had too big a job on our hands to spend very much time in looking her over; but it’s possible to take things easier this morning, an’ I’d like to see how badly she’s been punished,” Sam replied as he and Benny stood by to take their places in the boat.

“She isn’t in bad shape, an’ if the weather holds good we’ll soon have her afloat,” he who was in charge of the boat said in a matter-of-fact tone, and after they had put off he asked, nodding toward Benny:

“Is that lad a member of the crew?”

“Ay, that he is, an’ one who don’t spend much idle time when we’re pushed, as was the case when this steamer came ashore.”

“Where’s the boy who hauled the two sailors out of the water? The steamer’s captain was tellin’ about it.”

“This is the same identical lad,” Sam replied with a laugh.

“That little shaver couldn’t haul his own weight through such a surf as was runnin’ when yonder craft struck the shoal,” the man replied decidedly, giving no more than a passing glance at Benny, who looked even smaller than ever beneath the huge pea-jacket.

“But he did, matey, an,’ what’s more, set about it in sailor-like fashion, finishin’ the job as quickly as you or I could have done it.”

Then Sam went into the details of the rescue effected by Benny, while the lad kept his face turned seaward lest the men should see and laugh at his blushes.

“Well, that beats me!” the sailor at the helm cried when Sam’s story was come to an end. “A lad who can do such a trick as that while everything is in confusion, as it must have been then, has good stuff in him.”

“That’s what he has,” Sam replied proudly, “an’ we put on a good many airs because he belongs to our crew.”

From this moment Benny received far more attention than was altogether agreeable to him. The crew of the surf-boat told those on board the steamer that he was the lad who had displayed so much bravery and sound common-sense when human lives were in danger, and every man seemed eager to give him some word of praise, until the boy was so uncomfortable in mind that he wished heartily he had never been tempted to visit the wreck.

The workmen had more important matters to occupy their attention, however, and after devoting a few moments to No. 8 they left him alone with Sam Hardy, who said with a hearty laugh:

“You’ve made a big reputation for yourself, lad, and this summer, when visitors come out to the station, as they do nearly every pleasant day, we’ll be obliged to trot you and Fluff C. Foster out on parade as our swell life savers.”

“Then I sha’n’t want to stay there. I wouldn’t have come over here if I’d known the men would say so much.”

“Why, surely, you’re not ashamed of yesterday’s work, lad?”

“Not because I helped the men ashore; but it makes me feel mean to hear people praising me for doing what any other fellow would have done. It must be a pretty poor kind of a boy who couldn’t throw a rope out to a drowning man, and I’d missed both of them if the wind hadn’t sent the coils in a different direction from which I was aiming.”

“Well, Benjamin, allow it all to be as you’ve said, you’ll have to put up with some praise for a spell, an’ then folks will forget it, for in this world a fellow can’t live very long on what he’s done in the past. They’re takin’ off the hatches now, an’ I’m minded to have a look at the hold of this ’ere craft. Come on.”

Benny followed, but there was to him nothing particularly interesting in the cargo, and as it could not be seen from the deck, he left Sam and went aft, where he might watch the movements of the tugs as they pulled the lighters here and there in such position that the wind and current would send them down over the shoal to the wreck.

This last portion of the work soon engrossed the attention of all the wrecking crew, including those who had been making an examination of the steamer’s hold, for considerable difficulty was experienced in moving the heavy lighters to and fro, and after a time Benny realized that he and Sam were the only ones left aboard the steamer.

“We’ll be obliged to stay here till one of the boats is alongside,” he said to himself, and then came the thought that he was spending too much time in pleasuring when he should be attending to his regular duties in the station kitchen.

“Perhaps Mr. Hardy will be ready to go now,” he said, running forward toward the hatch where the surfman had last been seen.

The decks were deserted, and he saw no signs of life on the ship. It was as if he had been abandoned, and but for the many craft near at hand he might have had a very disagreeable sensation of utter loneliness. As a matter of fact, something much like a shudder of fear came over him with the first knowledge that he was alone; but he forced it back with a laugh as he said aloud:

“If people could know that I’m almost afraid of being here, even though there are an hundred men within hail, I wouldn’t need to bother my head about being called a hero when I don’t deserve the name.”

As he ceased speaking an odd, indistinct murmur came from the dark hold, causing him to step back toward the rail quickly; but he advanced again an instant later, angry with himself for being such a coward.

Once more came that strange noise; but, half-expecting it, Benny held his ground, determined to learn the cause, since, until Sam Hardy should return, he had nothing better with which to occupy himself.

Leaning over the hatch he peered down into the darkness.

The space between decks was apparently empty, and he heard the water gurgling far below in the lower hold.

“That must be what I heard,” he said, speaking aloud, and the words had no more than been uttered when it seemed as if amid the gurgling noise he could distinguish his own name.

“Ahoy!” he cried, smiling to think he should be so foolish as to answer the water; but an instant later his face grew pale as he heard plainly the words:

“Benny! Benny Foster!”

There was but one in the vicinity who would thus address him, and although it seemed impossible Sam Hardy could be in that apparently empty hold, he leaned far over as he shouted:

“Is that you, Mr. Hardy?”

“Ay, lad, come quick! I can’t hold out much longer!”

Now Benny was alarmed, and with good cause.

Leading down to the second deck was a single stanchion; the ladder had been torn or carried away. Heeled over as the steamer was, this timber stood at an inclination of forty-five degrees, and at its foot the deck had about the same inclination in the opposite direction.

Benny waited only so long as was necessary in order to throw off his pea-jacket, and then slipped down the stanchion, holding hard on reaching the deck below lest he should slide to port.

Here all was darkness, save for the square of gray light that marked the location of the hatch, and the lad tried in vain to pierce it with his eyes in search for the surfman.

“Where are you, Mr. Hardy?” he cried falteringly. “I can’t make out anything.”

“Hanging by a rope below the second hatchway. It swings so far to port that I can’t pull myself up, and I don’t dare to drop for fear the distance may be too great. Lean over and try to get hold of me, lad; I only need a little aid, for it is possible to help myself a good bit.”

Now it was only necessary Benny should feel along the upper side of the hatchway in order to find the rope by which the surfman was suspended, and the first thought was that he could readily pull his comrade up.

With the deck at such an inclination he could get no secure foothold, and the first attempt was sufficient to show him that the task was beyond his strength.

“Can you wait till I go on the upper deck?” he asked anxiously. “There are plenty of men close by; but all hands have left the steamer.”

“Go ahead, lad, but move quickly. I’ve hung here until it seems as if my arms were pulled out of their sockets.”

Benny sought the stanchion by which he had descended, and, gaining it, soon understood that he could no more work his way unaided to the top than Hardy could swarm up the rope while it swung so far away from the side of the vessel.

It seemed to him as if he had spent many minutes in the vain task, when in reality no more than a dozen seconds had been sufficient in which to prove that it was useless, and then he allowed himself to fall back again toward where the rope was made fast.

“I can’t get up,” he cried in a tearful voice. “Suppose I lean way over the hatch till you can get hold of my arms? The two of us should be able to work it in that fashion.”

“I’d pull you down, lad; there’s no use in trying anything like that. If it’s certain you can’t get on deck, I’ll take the chances of what may be below, an’ drop.”

“Don’t do it! Don’t do it! Let me try just once!” and without waiting for a reply Benny bent far over the combing of the hatch, twining his legs around the stanchion.

By letting himself down nearly at full length he found to his great joy that he could touch the surfman’s shoulders.

“Now I’ll get hold, and you shall put your arms around my neck,” he cried as if asking some great favor.

“Don’t try it, lad, for I’ll surely drag you down. It may be that I can drop without much hurt, and even a broken bone to one, is better than for us to fall together.”

“Try it!” Benny screamed, seizing Sam by the neck. “Get hold of me!”

The surfman had no alternative, unless the boy should loosen his hold, and, letting go of the rope with one hand, he clasped the other around Benny’s arms.

“Now get hold with the other, and then shin up! I can hold on here quite a spell!”

Even now the heavy strain was beginning to tell upon the lad, and Sam understood that if anything was to be accomplished it must be done in the shortest possible space of time.

Wearied though he was by his previous vain exertions, he put forth all his strength for the last effort, and in so doing knew full well he inflicted grievous pain upon the little fellow who was ready to take any chances in order to aid him.

With a firm hold of Benny’s body the surfman was enabled to climb upward, and in a few seconds, which must have seemed to the boy like ten times that number of minutes, he succeeded in clutching the combing of the hatch.

Dragging himself over he seized No. 8’s legs, and none too soon, for the boy’s strength was exhausted, and at the very instant Sam grasped him he was forced to let go his hold.

A moment later the two were lying along the side of the hatch panting for breath, but in no further danger of a fall, and some time elapsed before the silence was broken.

Then Sam said, groping about in the darkness for Benny’s hands, and holding them firmly as he spoke:

“It may be, lad, that I made all that trouble for nothing. It is possible the cargo was within a few inches of my feet as I hung on the rope; but that I couldn’t know, and it was the fear of shattering a bone which caused me to hold on and yell for help. A surfman with a broken leg might lose a whole season’s work, seein’ ’s the damage wouldn’t have been done in line of duty.”

“It’s lucky I heard you. If all hands hadn’t left the steamer, perhaps I shouldn’t have tried to find out where you had gone.”

“Do you know, lad, that you did a brave thing in takin’ the chances of my pullin’ you into the hold with me?”

“I do hope you won’t make such talk, Mr. Hardy,” Benny cried pleadingly. “I ain’t brave, for I was terribly frightened when that queer noise came out of the hold.”

“I noticed that you kept on trying to find out what it was.”

“Yes, sir, because I’d been ashamed to have it said I was scared at a noise.”

“Well, hark you, Benny, I won’t say anything more about your being a little hero, although I may think so just the same, and in return you shall keep quiet about this bit of trouble.”

“Don’t you want any one to know of it, sir?”

“Indeed, I don’t, No. 8. It wouldn’t sound very well if you should tell that an old hand like Sam Hardy let himself into the hold of a wreck by a rope which he couldn’t come back on. The boys never’d stop making fun of me, an’ more especially if it turns out that I was hangin’ all that time within two or three feet of the cargo. Now, is it a bargain that both of us are to keep this ’ere business a profound secret?”

“I’ll never tell, sir, though I can’t see that you have anything to be ashamed of, for nobody would want to take such chances as might have come. But how are we going to get out? While the steamer is heeled over so badly I can’t climb up the stanchion.”

“We’ll hold on a spell, till you’re rested, and then I can give you a lift up on my shoulder.”

“I’m ready to try now, sir. I wasn’t very tired--only for a minute or two.”

“You’re a lad after my own heart, Benjamin, an’ so long as I have a dollar or a shelter, half of it belongs to you! Now then, get up on my shoulder, an’ once we’re on deck it’s the same as if this foolish thing never happened, except when we two are alone.”

Benny scrambled up as Sam had directed, and then the surfman, cautioning him to keep his knees stiff, lifted the lad straight above his head until he could seize the hatch-combing.

Once on deck he let down a length of rope, and Sam Hardy was soon released from his temporary prison.

“I reckon I’d better get back to the station right away, or I’ll be getting into more mischief, like some youngster,” the surfman said grimly as he shouted to the crew of a small boat at hand to take him ashore.

The captain of one of the wrecking tugs came alongside at this moment, and, seeing Sam, cried.

“Don’t be in a hurry, Hardy. I’m going to have a look at the cargo, and you’d better go with me. It’ll be interesting to find out how well it was stowed.”

“Do you know what she’s loaded with?”

“Pig-iron.”

“It won’t interest me to see it, and, besides, I’ve been down in the hold quite a spell already.”

“How are things there?”

“To tell the truth, I didn’t see very much; I had business of my own before I’d been there many minutes. You’ll need a lantern.”

Then Sam went over the rail into the boat which had come alongside to take him off, Benny following close behind as a matter of course, and when the two were on shore again the surfman said:

“It would have been odd if I’d dropped onto that metal without doing myself some serious injury. There’s no longer any question, lad, but that you pulled me out of a bad place.”

“I’m glad,” Benny replied emphatically.

“Accordin’ to my way of thinkin’ there’d be more reason for gladness if I had never been such a bloomin’ idiot as to go down there.”

“Perhaps so, sir; but, so long as you did, I’m glad I was the one who pulled you out, for it’s likely to be the only chance I’ll ever have of doing you a favor.”

“I’m not so certain of that, No. 8, if you stay around the station as long as we’ll be glad to have you. In this life of ours there are many times when a fellow’s mate can do very much toward savin’ his life, an’ you’re just the kind of a comrade who can be depended upon to do pretty near the right thing at the right time.”

Never since the morning when he first found himself in the life-saving station had Benny felt so proud and happy as at this moment, and he walked by Sam Hardy’s side unable to speak because of the great joy in his heart.