Dave Darrin After The Mine Layers Part 14

Even the thought of his loved young wife did not stir him much, which showed, indeed, that Darrin was near the end of his vital resources and that he must soon give up his struggle.

After a while the instinct of desperation seized him. With a last summoning of his strength he began fighting for his life.

"I won't freeze!" he cried, between grinding teeth. "I can keep moving a good while yet. I won't allow myself to die here. That would be no better than suicide!"

For a few minutes more he continued to use arms and feet in a determined effort to warm his blood against the numbing cold.

"Ha, here comes one of the destroyers, right now," Dave laughed, hysterically, as a form loomed up in the night and came toward him.

Indeed, that dark ma.s.s, which presently resolved itself into the hull of a steamship battling with the gale, seemed bent on running him down.

Nearer and nearer it came. Dave tried to shout, but found his voice too weak to be heard above the roar of wind and wave. Though he fought desperately to get out of the course of the oncoming hull, the rolling waters washed him back.

His efforts, however, had availed him somewhat, for, though he was so close that he could almost touch the hull as the bow pa.s.sed him, Darrin felt that he could avoid being run down by the ship.

He tried to shout again, but only hoa.r.s.e noises came from his throat.

Then something splashed close to him as it struck the water. A wave washed Darrin against a rope. With all the force left in his hands he twined his fingers around the strands.

Then, though Dave did not see it, a face peered over the rail above.

There came a tug at the rope, but Dave would not let go. He found himself being dragged slowly along with the hull of this craft that was battling a head wind.

When the man above found that he could not haul up the rope he peered down at the water, then set up a yell in some strange jargon.

An instant later a second face appeared behind the first. The bright gleam of a pocket flash-lamp cut the blackness to the water. There was a second exclamation, quickly followed by a command.

A third man joined the other two at the rail. Dave blinked upward at the pocket flash-lamp. He saw something descending, heard a faint whish above the noise of the gale, and felt a noose drop down over his head and shoulders.

Just how he did it Darrin cannot remember, even now, but he managed to slip that noose first under one arm pit, then the other, all the time keeping a desperate hold of the trailing rope.

A pull from above, then a dull throb of hope sent the blood through Darrin's frame as he felt the noose gather tightly under his arms.

Slowly, his body b.u.mping against the rolling hull, he felt himself moving upward.

Ready hands seized and hauled him in over the rail. At that instant Dave's senses forsook him. He collapsed on the deck, a limp, huddled, drenched human form.

Nor could he judge how much later it was when he opened his eyes again.

But cold? Not a bit of it! He felt as though he were in a furnace room.

Stripped, he lay in a berth, two stalwart sailors rubbing him under the direction of a third person, while a fourth was slowly forcing a hot drink down his throat. It was a strangling cough, on account of some of the fluid entering his wind-pipe, that had brought him back to consciousness.

Opening his eyes, Dave lay quietly, enjoying the warmth after his bitter experience. He noticed that the sailors who were rubbing him were dripping with perspiration. Indeed, they had a right to drip, for the steam in this little cabin had been turned on through two separate services.

Dave tried to speak, but all he could say was:

"Ugh!"

"Good! You don't feel chilled, now?" questioned the man who held the hot drink to his lips.

"Gracious, no!" Darrin whispered, hoa.r.s.ely. "I'm roasting."

The man spoke to the sailors, who stopped their rubbing and spread a few thicknesses of blanket over him.

Dave's next realization was that this unknown craft did not roll so heavily as might be expected. He reasoned that the ship must be a freighter of broad beam.

Languor was stealing over him as the questioner asked:

"How do you feel?"

"Like having a big sleep," Dave whispered drowsily. His eyes closed and he dozed even before he could think to wonder if his brother officers on the "Grigsby" and "Reed" knew that he was all right.

Putting down the cup of hot drink, the man who had done the talking dismissed the three others, seated himself on the edge of the berth and placed a finger on one of Dave's unresisting wrists.

The same man was there, seated on a locker and smoking a pipe, when Dave Darrin again opened his eyes.

This time Dave sat up rather nimbly, then turned, supporting his head on one hand.

"Hullo, there!" Dave hailed, cheerily.

"Getting your strength back, aren't you?" queried the stranger.

"Yes, sir! But tell me. Is this the same night I was picked up and introduced on board, so to speak?"

"The same night."

"About how many hours ago?"

"Five, I guess."

"Then it must be near daylight."

"Yes."

"Any American destroyers sighted hereabouts, do you know?"

"Not at last accounts. We have been keeping a lookout, too, for your uniform proclaimed you to be a Yankee naval officer."

"What ship is this?"

"The 'Rigsdak.'"

"Norwegian?" Dave inquired.

"Danish freighter, homebound from Hartlepool."

"And you're the ship's doctor?"

"Yes. Unless we meet one of your own country's ships you'll be ash.o.r.e in Denmark before noon today. But the sea is so rough that I do not believe we could transfer you, even if we met one of your own craft."

"Denmark isn't such a bad country," Dave laughed, pleasantly. "I've been there. And you're mighty quick people. It didn't take you long to rope and haul me on board."

"Because our second officer had a man in his watch who used to be a cowboy in your country, and he can handle a lariat well. Travelling through these dangerous waters we always carry a line forward with a noose at one end. You're the third man we've roped out of the water in six months."