The Boy With the U. S. Life-Savers Part 40

"I was right on my course," the skipper growled. "That's what makes me so sore. But when I pa.s.sed Cross Keys light, I thought I must have figured wrong. I never stopped to think why the light was nearly a quarter of a degree from where she should have been by my reckoning, and I changed my course by that."

"Well?"

"One of my men heard those chicken-livered black-hided cowards laughing to themselves about the way they fooled vessels with their 'patent light.'"

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SIGNAL OF DISTRESS THAT WAS NEVER SEEN.

The missing lifeboat from the burned steamer, Columbian, abandoned. Note the coat at the masthead.

Courtesy of U.S. Coast Guard.]

"You mean that the wreckers have put up a false light to lead vessels on to the reefs?"

"It's that decoy light that brought me here," said the skipper, "and if you hadn't come when you did, I reckon every one of us would have had our throats cut and the vessel would have been skinned by this time."

CHAPTER XII

THE GRAVEYARD OF THE DEEP

Following on the information given by the captain of the Norwegian steamer, which had so nearly been looted by wreckers, the _Miami_ started on a search for the decoy light that had led that steamer to her fate. The captain was an able navigator, and, until the moment he had seen the false light and been led astray by it, he had been absolutely upon his right course. Under such circ.u.mstances it was not difficult to find the lat.i.tude and longitude where the captain reported having first seen the light. He had also given the bearing in the log, so the _Miami_ crept slowly forward in the direction indicated, heaving the lead constantly for treacherous shoals.

From where the captain of the steamer had cited his position there was not a single sign of a lighthouse or a light. But, as the _Miami_ crept on, far out of the regular ship's channel, as suddenly as though it had been just placed there, rose a spar, held in place with three wire stays. On the top was a little round platform, not more than a foot across, and spikes had been driven into the mast to act as a ladder by which to climb it. The _Miami_ was almost on the tiny outcrop of rock before the mast was visible. It was painted a watery blue, which merged in with the color of both sea and sky, and was exceedingly difficult to see.

A boat's crew was sent ash.o.r.e to demolish the mast and also to make a search for the light. To Eric, who went ash.o.r.e with the men, it was quite an exciting hunt, "almost like looking for Captain Kidd's treasure," as he said afterwards to his chum, the young lieutenant of engineers. The quest was in vain, for though every inch of the islet was searched, there was no sign that the ground had been disturbed. So far as that went, there was very little ground to disturb, for the islet was little more than a coral rock, nearly covered at high tide. It was evident that the wreckers, when they were ready for their work, brought the light with them.

As the light for which the decoy was intended to be a subst.i.tute was quite a powerful light, with a regular occulting flash, the decoy itself must be powerful, and the _Miami_ was anxious to trace it. If the native wreckers had such a lantern in their possession, probably they had some kind of clockwork and could alter the occultation of their decoy so that it would duplicate any one of several different lights on the coast.

It was not until some time afterwards that the Lighthouse Service learned that there actually had been such a light in the hands of the wreckers at one time. In a quarrel among themselves, however, over the division of the spoils of a small schooner which had run ash.o.r.e, one of the disgruntled wreckers had thrown the lantern overboard in deep water.

"I hadn't supposed there was anything of that sort going on now, sir,"

said Eric to one of the junior lieutenants, discussing the question of the wreckers' lights.

"Nor had I," was the rejoinder. "The business of being a wrecker has changed a good deal. There's plenty of it, still, but it has become a recognized profession. A wrecker, now, has offices in a big seaport, with a fleet of ocean-going tugs and a big bank-roll. When a ship is reported ash.o.r.e, either her owners pay him to float her, or he buys the wreck outright and takes his chances of being able to recover the purchase price. If luck is with him, he may get a good ship and cargo cheap, but if fortune frowns and a storm breaks her up before he can save the cargo, then he suffers a heavy loss. It's a good business, but a big gamble."

"I should think there was a lot of excitement in that business, yet!"

"Yes, there is. But it is organized now and wonderfully handled commercially. It's only in places like these outlying fringes of the Bahamas, that the native wrecker--the one who lives by robbery and loot--can still be found. In the old days, a decoy light was a regular thing. There were organizations that had offices in the cities, who used to make a business of this wrecking. Barnegat, New Jersey, was a famous point in the first part of last century. All the inhabitants were in league with the wreckers, there. Many and many a good vessel, in the early days of American shipping, was lured directly on to the treacherous beach, while the wreckers looted everything they could get, and plundered the pa.s.sengers and crew. That's all done away with now.

The United States coast is too thoroughly patrolled by the Coast Guard for any such business as that to flourish.

"I think the Wolf Rock story is perhaps the best example of the idea of deliberately wrecking vessels. You've heard of Wolf Rock?"

"Yes, sir," said the boy, "it's in the English Channel, off the coast of Devonshire."

"Did you ever hear why that particular rock was called Wolf Rock?"

"No, sir," answered Eric, "I don't think I ever did. Is it because of the shape of it, or because the sea breaking over it is like the fangs of a wolf or something like that? There generally isn't an awful lot of reason for the names of rocks and reefs."

"There is for this one," said his friend. "It isn't because it looks like a wolf, but because it howls like a wolf."

"You mean the fog-horn does?"

"No, I mean the rock does, or did," was the reply.

"How?"

"You've heard of blow-holes?"

"Yes, sir," said Eric, "there's one at the Farallones Islands. You mean those holes that make a noise when the tide comes in and out?"

"That's the idea. The Wolf Rock was a most famous case of that. It had a large cavern inside and a very small hole through the rock at the ceiling of the cavern. Then there was a cleft or fissure through the rock right down to this little hole. You can see for yourself that when the tide started to come in, it closed the sea entrance to the cavern, imprisoning a lot of air. Then, as the tide rose steadily, the pressure of the water drove the air out of the cavern through this little hole, continually making an intermittent blowing sound. The great cleft in the rock acted like the horn of an immense megaphone. This gave rise to a roar, high-pitched--owing to the smallness of the hole--like a wolf's howl. Night and day, but more especially when the tide was coming in, the howl of the Wolf Rock sounded over the sea to warn mariners of the perilous crag."

"Handy," remarked Eric; "it would save the Lighthouse Service a good bit of money if every rock could be fixed like that."

"It didn't do the English Lighthouse Service much good," said his friend. "What do you suppose the good people of Devonshire did? They set to work and hunted for weeks to try to find the hole, but it was so small that they failed. At last, having made up their minds that the Wolf Rock should cease to give its warning, they combined together and carted boulders from the beach to the top of the rock, with incredible labor, and after a month's hard work filled up the entire lower part of the chasm and then shoveled small stones on top."

"And thus silenced the wolf's howl?"

"Very nearly. If you stand on Wolf Rock now, you can still hear a low moaning sound as the tide comes in, but it's very faint. So far as a warning is concerned, the wolf is chained forever."

"And did the people profit by it, sir?"

"Within three months from the time of the silencing of the wolf, over thirty vessels crashed to pieces on the rocks around, and the people of the villages were made rich by the wreckage of the cargoes that came floating in, or by the plunder they took from the vessels which held together after the storm had pa.s.sed."

"And those who were drowned?"

"They were drowned, that was all," the other said. "Of course if any survivors were washed ash.o.r.e, the coast folk treated them very kindly."

"I don't suppose," Eric remarked, "that they ever told these survivors that they had done their best to make them the victims of the hungry sea?"

"Hardly! You've got to remember that people often have queer local ways.

There are superst.i.tions you can't defend on any ground. You know, at one time, it was considered bad luck to try to save any one who had been partly drowned. There are plenty of people, even nowadays, who won't cut down a would-be suicide who has hanged himself because they think it's bad luck.

"So far as the sea and sailors are concerned, I believe there's more humanity than on land. It's very rarely that you ever hear of a vessel that has refused to go to another's a.s.sistance. I think, too, the whole work of the Coast Guard is a standing example of the modern idea that nothing is more important than the saving of life."

"It often takes some big disaster to start it, though," said Eric.

"After all, this Ice Patrol that the _Miami_ is going on next month, was only begun as a result of the sinking of the _t.i.tanic_, wasn't it?"

"That's all. But wasn't that reason enough?"

"It surely was," agreed the boy.

"I think the summer ice patrol is a mighty useful thing. If the _Seneca_ keeps the lane of ocean travel free of derelicts and we cover the Ice Patrol of that same steamship lane, it ought to make a difference in the safety of ships at sea. Ever see a big iceberg, Mr. Swift?"