one could almost hear the creaking of knee and elbow joints when the five boys turned out the next morning. despite hal’s prediction, this was at an early hour. for, while the sea was yet running before the remnant of the wind, the sun came up on a cloudless sky. captain joe’s clothes dryer had worked splendidly, and by seven thirty o’clock, the rescuing crew was itself again—refreshed and reclothed.
before breakfast, captain joe and tom visited both the captain and the owner of the steamer’s cargo. they reported these facts: the vessel was the elias ward, of charleston, south carolina—800 tons gross, and commanded by captain martin hobson, of st. augustine. it had been chartered by w. l. hawkins, a lumber dealer from michigan, for a trading cruise in the west indies, mainly to secure san domingo mahogany in hayti. in this, it had been wholly successful.
“captain hobson,” explained tom, “don’t know what’s happened—he’s wanderin’ in his[127] head. we gave him some water, but we don’t know whether he ought to be fed. mr. hawkins can’t get out o’ his bunk. but he’s takin’ medicine.”
“well,” asked mac, “since we’ve got two sick ones aboard, what’s next? are you kids goin’ on to the anclote club house?”
the other boys looked about with puzzled expressions. captain joe answered by shaking his head.
“not dis week,” he announced positively. “we make breakfast, then work. there is plenty coal. get up steam, and start de pumps. in half hour, in the three sisters, i go to pensacola. to-night, i return with tug. we tow de steamer to pensacola.”
“we all got to go back?” began hal, with a half wail.
“certain’,” went on captain joe. “we not leave the steamer now.”
“why not?” began bob. “that is, as soon as mr. hawkins is well enough to take charge. she’s all right here. we can telephone for a tug from mill view.”
tom’s face showed a strange smile. he looked at captain joe, and the smile broadened[128] into a grin. then he beckoned the other boys closer.
“why not?” he repeated. “for one reason, she’s too valuable.”
mac suddenly slapped his knee and let out a yell.
“by cracky,” he shouted. “i hadn’t thought of that. what’s she worth, captain joe?”
captain joe was smiling too, but he only answered:
“she good money.”
hal and bob were still puzzled.
“don’t you understand?” exclaimed tom. “we’ve saved this craft. we’re going to land her safely in port, and then—”
“the court’ll give us a good part of her value as salvage,” concluded mac. “we’ve earned it, and we’re all a goin’ to be rich.”
the opening of the club house would have to be postponed a week. breakfast was cooked, the captain and the cargo owner made as comfortable as possible—the latter also being notified of the program of his rescuers—fire was started to provide steam for the pump, and then an examination was made of the cargo.
the boys did not ask mr. hawkins the value of his freight, and he volunteered no information.[129] but, whatever its value, the entire hold was packed with squared mahogany logs. there were also a few other logs of lesser size.
“this stuff is worth a good deal, isn’t it?” asked bob, as the boys surveyed the heavy, curiously marked logs.
“that depends,” answered mac—wise in all things pertaining to shipping or the sea trade of pensacola. “if these sticks came from central america, they ain’t so much. i’ve seen mahogany ’at didn’t bring more’n ten dollars a log. wa’n’t wuth much more’n cedar. but,” and he closed an eye, “ef they’s san domingo logs, an’ the geezer ’at owns ’em says they is, i seen one o’ that kind sell right on the dock in pensacola fur a thousan’ bones. them thousand dollar boys is what they shave up fur veneer—all curly and wriggly.”
“a thousand dollars apiece?” exclaimed hal.
“i ain’t sayin’ that,” explained the knowing mac, “but even ef they’s one ur two o’ that sort in the bunch, we ain’t been workin’ fur nothin’.”
“do you mean to say,” broke in bob, “that whoever owns this boat and the man ’at owns these logs has to pay us the price o’ them for savin’ ’em?”
“no,” explained tom, breaking in; “but they pay part of the value of both—depends on the risk the rescuers took, and whethah the wreck would have been a loss without theah assistance. sometimes, it’s half—sometimes less—an’ sometimes more.”
“does i git any sheer ef yo’ all gits paid?” broke in jerry blossom suddenly.
“my own judgment,” tom answered, “is that every one ought to share alike. that means captain joe, jerry and all the rest. i don’t know by rights if we ought really to set up any claims—but if we do, let’s all share alike.”
“not set up any claims!” exclaimed mac belligerently. “an’ why not? they wouldn’t been a stick o’ this timber saved, ef it hadn’t been for the old escambia. an’ the steamer ’at carried it would ’a been suckin’ sand on the bar afore this.”
“yas, sah,” spoke up jerry. “ah’s done heered ’bout dat what yo’ call ’em. de law makes yo’ take him—yo’ all ain’t got no choice.”
“what do you say, captain joe?” asked tom.
“de man you wuk fo’ gets de money. ’tain’t none mine.”
“i vote we put in a claim,” spoke up hal, “and that we divide whatever we get into six piles—”
“i shorely done take a big risk,” broke in jerry. “we all boun’ to git big pay. i kin use de money. dese clothes—”
“say, kids,” interrupted hal, his face lighting up with enthusiasm, “we’ll put our money together, and buy a good cruising yacht, and then we can surely go to anclote island—”
“ah’s gwine to need all my sheer,” objected jerry, in some alarm.
“i meant the anclote club members, jerry,” explained hal, laughing.
but instantly his laugh died out. as he realized what he had said, mac, the “expelled” member, shifted uneasily. the latter said nothing, but the boys looked with embarrassment at each other. there was a quick whispered conversation and then tom said:
“mac, after last night, we think everybody ought to kind o’ forget our row. i reckon you’d vote for bob now, an’ he ain’t nothin’ against you. we’ve taken back what we did, and you all are a membah again—if you want to be.”
mac’s years of “toughness” and his bullying life had hardened him until he had no way of showing what was in his heart. but the other boys understood. bob, especially, knew that mac was genuinely sorry.
“sure we will,” was mac’s only response, “an’ we’ll git a bird. the stuff under our feet ain’t worth a cent less’n twenty thousand dollars to say nothin’ o’ the vessel itself. they can’t offer us less’n half. how much is that apiece?” he added, anxious to show no weakness over his reelection.
“a sixth of ten thousand dollars,” replied hal promptly, “is one thousand six hundred and sixty-six dollars. leavin’ jerry and captain joe out, we’ll have six thousand six hundred and sixty-four dollars.”
bob touched hal on the shoulder, and the two boys stepped aside for a few moments. when they returned, bob said smiling:
“look here, boys, what’s the use o’ mincin’ words. we don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelin’s, but hal and i are goin’ to speak right out.” captain joe and jerry had withdrawn to attend the newly-made fires in the engine room. “it ain’t because we ever did anything to deserve it, but our fathers are what you call[133] rich men. and you fellows haven’t any fathers. if this thing figures out as big as we’re calculatin’, hal and i want to buy the yacht—we’ll have enough.”
mac said nothing, but tom began shaking his head.
“then we won’t go in it,” added bob stoutly. “if we can’t do it all, we won’t do anything.”
“let’s see how things turn out,” suggested mac as a compromise.
with this, the other boys had to be satisfied. as soon as the pumps were working, jerry taking the first turn at stoking, mac and the other boys took captain joe to the three sisters in the escambia. the camp equipment, the provisions and the tent outfit on the beach were then conveyed to the steamer, hauled on deck and, a little after eight o’clock, captain joe and hal were tacking out of the tortuous perdido channel on their way to pensacola.
there was a fresh breeze, and in an hour, the schooner was only a speck in the east. the boys left aboard the elias ward had enough to do. spreading and drying the camp equipment took some time. then there were visits to the helpless captain and mr. hawkins, and jerry[134] had to be relieved. at the first opportunity, jerry and mac boarded the escambia, and in an hour, they returned with a half dozen red fish, a pail of crabs and a basket of oysters.
this made luncheon an event. jerry’s assistance in the galley did not extend to the cooking, but he cleaned the fish and searched through the captain’s cabin until he had collected dishes, knives and forks sufficient for the noonday meal. mac was the cook, and there was no question about his success. the day turned out fair. toward noon, the wind died away, and the sun shone with springtime warmth.
bob was a little stiff, but he carried no other evidences of his vigorous participation in the strenuous rescue. just before noon, mr. hawkins appeared on deck. he showed the effects of the strain under which he had labored, but he was wonderfully improved. until luncheon, he gave his time to captain hobson. both bob and tom insisted on interfering with chef mac, but the only substantial contribution they made to the approaching meal was a dessert of fresh pineapples, of which they found an ample quantity aboard.
captain hobson’s dining room was just forward[135] of the wheel. a skylight gave it ample sunshine and air. here jerry arranged the table, and luncheon was served. bob and tom protested over mac’s long delay, but at last, about one o’clock, mr. hawkins was summoned, and with jerry acting as waiter, the three boys and their guest sat down to a meal that was compensation for the long wait.
in the center of the table was a pyramid of luscious sugar pines, ripened in the tropics and not in shipping crates. piled among the green waxen tops of these, were little “lady finger” bananas, such as cannot be shipped to the north, and oranges whose fragrance filled the saloon. in front of this “set piece” was a big glass bowl of shredded pineapple, swimming in its own piquant juice, unprofaned with sugar. at the other end of the table was a pitcher of iceless but none the less palatable lemonade—bob’s work.
“more like a fruit salad,” remarked mr. hawkins, as he examined the contents of the pitcher and made out the flavoring slices of oranges and pineapples. “funny the cook of the steamer couldn’t think of something like this.”
jerry then served the following menu:
oysters on the shell with lemon
oyster stew
boiled hard shell crabs with red pepper
fried red fish
hot baked beans
stewed corn
ship’s biscuits
shredded pineapple
black coffee
“boys,” said the michigan lumber dealer an hour later, as he left the table, “i never had a meal like that in chicago. do you cook like that in the camp you’ve been telling about?”
mac laughed. “you bet your life,” he answered. “why not? that’s why we hang out around here. and if we were in camp a month, i reckon we could have a different sort of fish every day.”
about three-thirty o’clock, a cloud of black smoke out in the gulf told that captain joe and hal had lost no time, and at four-fifteen, the ocean tug sea fox made fast to the anchored steamer. captain joe had made his bargain at the tug office, and there was nothing to cause delay. had there been a supply of gasoline, mac would have remained behind and gone on the[137] escambia to the club house. but, after a filial conference, the life boat was made fast to the steamer, and the tug crew clambered aboard and raised the ward’s anchor.
hawsers were passed aboard, and captain joe, who had left the three sisters in pensacola and returned with hal on the tug, took the wheel. the stout little tug then fell to her work, and with straining cables, sharp commands back and forth between captain joe and the skipper of the sea fox, the rescued steamer was got slowly about and headed out the pass. a quarter of an hour later, the smoke hidden sea tug, with its deep laden tow far astern was well on her way to pensacola bay.
when the elias ward’s “mud hook” dropped again, it was nearly midnight. one man was watching and waiting on the long wharf in pensacola, for the incoming steamer, and, while the sea fox was yet casting off her hawsers, the skiff of a vigilant reporter hurried alongside.
“captain joe,” shouted the enterprising young journalist, as he scrambled up the steamer’s ladder, “get a move on—it’s nearly midnight, and them dead ones over at the tug office don’t know a thing. gimme the story in rag time.”
and, before the boys could work out any plans for the remainder of the night, the members of the anclote boat club had to tell, for the pensacola journal, the full story of the elias ward’s rescue.
“are you goin’ to print all that?” asked bob innocently, at last.
“am i?” laughed the reporter, hurrying over the side. “just you read the journal in the morning, and see. sorry it’s too dark for snaps. good night, kids. see you to-morrow.”
