James Otis - A Runaway Brig - or, An Accidental Cruise

Ten minutes in the hot hold was sufficient to gratify their curiosity, and then the amateur cook sat about preparing the noonday meal.

Now that the boys had lost all fear of the Bonita, half their troubles seemed suddenly to have vanished. As a matter of course, Harry and Walter grieved because of the sorrow their unexplainable absence must have caused at home; but their distress of mind was lessened very materially by the belief that they would soon be in a condition to return.

Even Bob appeared to be relieved by what was evidently the solution of the mystery, and it was quite a jolly party which gathered in the saloon to partake of the dinner prepared by Jim.

"Now that things seem to be straightened up a bit, an' all hands are feelin' kinder nat'ral-like, I reckon we'll get some sail on the old hooker this afternoon," Bob said when the meal was finished and he had begun to make ready for the after-dinner smoke.

"There ain't wind enough to lift a pocket-handkerchief," Jim suggested, "so why do you want more canvas?"

"I don't reckon it'll hold calm a great while, an' we must be ready when the breeze does come. There's time now to give Harry an' Walter a lesson in workin' ship, an' they need it."

The boys had no objection to make, for a certain amount of labor was necessary if they ever hoped to reach home again, and they signified their willingness to begin at once; but the old sailor insisted on finishing his smoke before doing anything else.

"There's plenty of time," he said lazily, "an' we'll lay under the awnin' till the sun gets a little nearer the water."

Then he arose from the table, and as the boys followed on deck they were electrified by hearing him shout, as he shaded his eyes from the glare and gazed southward:

"There's a steamer, lads! Now all we've got to do is hook on an' be towed into port. Set the flag so's they'll know we're in distress, an' we'll overhaul the hawsers to save time."

Before he ceased speaking the boys had made out that which caused Bob so much excitement. It was a small craft coming toward them under steam, as could be told from the thread of smoke which floated on the still air, and after one glance at her Jim hoisted the signal of distress while the others gathered in the bows to watch the welcome approach.

"It ain't a very big steamer," the young fisherman said as he rejoined his companions.

"Most likely she's a tug what's got blown out to sea," Bob replied as he went into the cabin for a glass; and when he came on deck again the boys waited impatiently to learn what could be seen.

During fully ten minutes the old sailor held the glass to his eyes, while a mystified expression came over his face as he said to Jim:

"Here, take this an' see what you can make out. It puzzles me, for a fact."

"She looks like a tug," the boy said, after gazing at the approaching craft several seconds; "but there's something queer on her bow."

"What about her spars?" Bob asked impatiently.

"She's got two short masts, and – Why, what's that? She's flying a signal of distress!"

"That's about the size of it," Bob exclaimed as he brought his hand down on the rail with a vigorous slap as if to give emphasis to his words.

"I thought my eyes must be playin' me a trick, so that's why I asked you to look. Her bow has been stove, an' she's workin' up this way for help."

"Well," and Jim lowered the glass with a gesture of disappointment, "she's comin' to a pretty poor place, for we've got our hands full tryin' to help ourselves."

During the next half hour hardly a word was spoken, so occupied were all hands with watching the stranger, which approached very slowly, and at the end of that time she was almost within hailing distance.

It was a small tug with a flag run half-way up the stumpy mainmast, and her bow stove from the cut-water nearly to the pilot-house. A stream of water coming from the starboard side told that the steam-pump was necessary to keep her afloat; but no person save a boy about eighteen years of age, who was at the wheel, could be seen.

"She must be pretty nigh as short-handed as we are," Bob said; and then came a hail.

"Brig ahoy!"

"Ahoy on the tug!"

"Can you send me some men? The steamer is sinking, and I am the only one on board."

"Who's running the engine?" Bob shouted.

"I am, and trying to steer at the same time."

"There's only one man an' three boys here. Can't you manage to come alongside?"

The helmsman waved his hand as if in reply and disappeared, when the steamer's speed was checked. Then he entered the pilot-house again, going below once more to stop the machinery entirely when within fifty yards of the brig.

By this means the tug was brought so near that a heaving-line could be thrown aboard, and ten minutes later she was lying alongside the Bonita as a tired, hungry-looking boy stepped over the brig's rail.

"I reckon you've been havin' a decently tough time," Bob said by way of starting the conversation.

"Since yesterday morning I've been trying to keep her afloat. If some craft hadn't hove in sight to-day I should have given up, and probably gone to the bottom with her."

"How did you get in such a mess?"

"An ocean steamer ran into us at sunrise yesterday. Before she could clear herself every one of the tug's crew, except myself, climbed on board over the bow. I was the engineer, and had an assistant. He was on duty at the time, and I asleep in the after cabin. The shock of the collision threw me out of the bunk and stunned me, I reckon, for when I came on deck there was no craft in sight. Since then I've kept steam on so the pump would work, and run in the hope of sighting some craft."

"Where do you hail from?"

"Philadelphia. The Sea Bird is a new boat, and we were taking her to Cuba."

"How long have you been out?"

"Five days from the Capes."

"Then we've made more of a southin' than I reckoned on," Bob said half to himself, and seeing a look of inquiry on the stranger's face he gave a brief account of the Bonita from the time the boys came aboard; saying, in conclusion: "We're better off than you, for the brig is sound; so you'd best bring your traps over the rail an' let the steamer sink when she gets ready. I reckon with your help we can crawl in toward the mainland an' make a tidy bit of salvage at the same time. What's your name?"

"Joseph Taylor. The only work I have ever done on ship-board has been in the engine-room, and I'm afraid I sha'n't make much of a sailor."

"You've got strength an' pluck," Bob said approvingly, "an' that's enough."

"But I don't like to give up trying to save the Sea Bird. She isn't stove below the water-line, is new, and is worth fifteen thousand dollars."

"I'm afraid, lad, that we haven't got force enough to do very much in the way of ship-building;" and Bob shook his head gravely as if to say he thought it a hopeless case. "Howsomever, while there's no wind we sha'n't be wastin' time, so it won't do any harm to have a look at her."

Joe Taylor led the way over the rail, and the three boys, eager to see the little steamer, followed directly behind Bob, Jim whispering to his friends:

"If this cruise don't end pretty soon we shall have a reg'lar cripples' crew aboard. Here's me, who come from the Mary Walker; you, that never belonged to any craft; the old Bonita, with nobody to work her; Bob, as a remnant of the Trade Wind, an' now another feller with a sinkin' tug. It's a nice crowd to talk about salvage when they can't help theirselves!"

"Just let us get ashore once more, an' I'll be satisfied to have somebody else make money by taking these crafts into port!" and Walter leaped on to the deck of the tug in a discontented way, as if he fancied the shuttered steamer had brought fresh trouble and complications upon them.