The Boy With the U. S. Life-Savers Part 22

"No," Eric replied, "I don't think you ever did."

"It was in New York," his friend began. "I was there with Father. We were doing the sights of the town and he took me down with him to the water-front. He took the occasion to call on the Senior Captain of the Coast Guard stationed there. They were old cronies.

"While they were talking, there came a 'phone from the Navy Yard. On account of the Great European War the Coast Guard had undertaken some special neutrality duty in New York harbor. The Navy had lent a tug for the purpose. The 'phone message was to say that while the Coast Guard was perfectly welcome to the tug, on which the patrol was being done, the tug captain was compulsorily absent in sick bay.

"The lieutenant, who had charge of the patrol,--he didn't look much older than I do--answered the 'phone. Evidently the admiral in command of the Brooklyn Navy Yard must have been talking to him, personally, because I heard his answer,

"'Certainly, Admiral. I shall be able to take her out without the master on board. As far as that goes, sir,' he added with an earnest laugh in his voice, 'I think I could take out anything you've got, from a first-cla.s.s battleship down!'"

"That was going some!" exclaimed Eric.

"Wasn't it? But the joke of it was that the Admiral, not knowing that the Senior Captain had been in the office all the while, called him up and told him the story, ending with the statement,

"'I don't know that I'd be willing to say as much for all my lieutenants!'

"'I would!' the Coast Guard senior captain answered. And I figured right then and there, that the Coast Guard was what I wanted."

"I almost feel like that lieutenant now," said Eric, "and I'm not through the first year. And after the cruise I'll be Johnny-on-the-spot, for sure."

In some ways Eric was not altogether wrong in this statement, for his thorough knowledge of mathematics stood him in good stead in navigation.

Questions such as "Great Circle Sailing" he ate alive, and a well known problem of "Equations of Equal Alt.i.tudes" was, to use his own expression, nuts to him.

Eric had the sense of grat.i.tude strongly developed, and he always kept the old puzzle-maker informed of his progress. In return, the old man used to send him weird arithmetical problems, that it took the whole cla.s.s weeks to work out.

In spite of the strong discipline, the spirit of the Academy was so congenial that the cadets were able to get into personal relations with the instructors. There was never the faintest overstepping of the most rigid rule, there was nothing remotely resembling familiarity between any cadet and an instructor, but, at the same time, the heartiest good feeling existed. For example, realizing the value of outside mathematical interests, the instructor in that subject used to allow the cla.s.s to bring to him any kind of problem. On more than one occasion the instructor was as much interested in the puzzle-maker's devices as were the boys themselves. Great was the triumph of the cla.s.s, when, on one occasion, they worked out a problem that had been too much for the queer old mathematician in Michigan.

The spring cruise on the practice ship _Itasca_ more than fulfilled Eric's hopes. The salt of the sea was in his veins and he actually secured an approving phrase from the boatswain on one occasion--a compliment harder to get than from the Commandant of the Academy himself. It was real hard training; the cadets had to handle the ship and do all the work aboard her, as well as to keep up with their studies. None the less, it was enjoyable, every minute of it, bad weather as well as good, and at the end of his first year's cruise, Eric realized to the full that he had chosen the career for which he was best suited.

The boy's pa.s.sionate interest in his work and his doggedness in study stood him in good stead. He had not dreamed that the course would be so thorough, nor that it would require such an incessant grind, but he never let up. By the end of the second year he was regarded as one of the most promising men in his cla.s.s, and he had made several substantial friendships with his cla.s.smates. The Academy had none of the "prize"

incentives of many colleges. A cadet had to work for all that he was worth just to pa.s.s. There were no half-way measures. Either a cadet pa.s.sed or he failed. It wasn't healthy to fail. By the end of his second year Eric was well up in his cla.s.s. He had qualified as a corporal in the military drills, he had secured the coveted honor of gunner's mate, and he was even looked upon with favor by "Tattoo Tim," alias Boatswain Egan of the _Itasca_.

Eric never forgot the first day when he was allowed to con a ship. It was right at the beginning of his third cruise. He had put a gun crew through its drill, under the eye of the officer, and felt that he had acquitted himself creditably.

"Mr. Swift," said the first lieutenant to him, "put the ship's position on the chart."

Eric saluted and withdrew. A few minutes later, returning to the executive officer, he answered:

"Forty-one degrees ten minutes north; seventy-one degrees twenty-two minutes west, sir."

"Very good: Lay off a course from this point to a point ten miles north by west from Cape Race light."

In less than ten minutes Eric was back with a diagram of the course, which the officer inspected thoroughly.

"You may steer the course," he said.

Eric's nerves were in good control, but he had a jumpy feeling when he realized that he was actually in charge. Once, and only once, he got a little panicky, and, turning to the officer on the bridge, said:

"Should I keep her out a bit, sir?"

"You are steering the course," was the officer's reply. It was all up to the boy.

"Make it nor'west by west half west," Eric said a little tremulously to the helmsman, as they came in sight of Sankaty Head on Nantucket Island.

"Nor'west by west half west, sir," the helmsman repeated, porting his helm a trifle.

After the ship had proceeded a certain distance, the lieutenant called another of the first-cla.s.s men on the bridge and he took his turn. At the end of the trip the officer summoned the cla.s.s.

"Mr. Swift," he queried, "why did you not take the Muskeget Channel?"

Eric colored.

"I hadn't remembered exactly, sir," he explained, "the depths of the channels near the Cross Rip Shoals. I think I had them right, sir, but I wasn't sure enough of myself to feel that I ought to risk the ship."

"You will remember them, hereafter?"

"Yes, sir."

"Mr. Van Sluyd," continued the lieutenant, turning to another member of Eric's cla.s.s.

"Yes, sir."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE LIGHTSHIP THAT WENT ASh.o.r.e.

Columbia River vessel which blew over a sand-bar and had to be taken overland through a forest to be launched again.

Courtesy of U.S. Bureau of Lighthouses.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: GUARDING THE GRAVEYARD OF THE DEEP.

The Diamond Shoal Lightship, anch.o.r.ed outside the quicksands off Cape Hatteras that no other vessel can face and live.

Courtesy of U.S. Bureau of Lighthouses.]

"Near Monomoy you stood in a little too close. Keep farther out from the Shovelful Shoal. If, for any reason, you are compelled to go as close as you did to the point, keep the lead going."

"Yes, sir."

"Mr. Cunningham?"

"Yes, sir."

"In rounding Cape Cod, sailing an arc, change your course more frequently. It will save time and coal."

"Yes, sir."