The Motor Boys Bound for Home; or, Ned, Bob and Jerry on the Wrecked Troopship

by Clarence Young

  CHAPTER XVI

  A WAIF OF THE SEA

  Jerry Hopkins felt himself being tossed through space. That is to say,he felt himself moving through space; but, as a matter of fact, hedid not at that instant know whether he had been tossed or was merelyfalling. There was blackness before his eyes, caused, as he learnedlater, by a blow on the head, and even if that had not been the casehe could have seen little, for the fog, after the collision, seemed tosettle down heavier than before.

  Jerry had a confused idea that he was shouting something. What it washe did not know, but as there was a riot of shouts going on all abouthim it did not much matter.

  The crash had stunned him for the time being. It had shaken him throughand through and disturbed his logical thinking powers. He found timeto wonder what had happened to his chums, Ned and Bob, and also toProfessor Snodgrass. Was it not queer how they had so unexpectedly methim, and in a characteristic occupation--that of gathering a rare bugunsuspectingly harbored by some innocent spectator?

  What had happened to Bob, Ned, and the professor? Did he get the bug hewas after? What had become of the surprised sailor?

  These, and other thoughts, rushed through the mind of Jerry Hopkinsin a series of flashes, like the views on a moving picture screen. Heinstinctively flung out his hands to protect himself when he shouldland, and then----

  Suddenly he felt himself being immersed in deep water. He had falleninto the sea--he realized that--and the sudden shock cleared hispartially numbed brain. Instinctively Jerry held his breath as his headwent under, and then he began frantically striking out. He was a strongswimmer, and, even fully dressed as he was, he knew how to take care ofhimself in the water.

  Giving his head a shake to clear his eyes, he looked about him. Hewanted to see, if possible, in what direction to swim to save himself.If he had been tossed any distance from the transport he might be sometime before he could swim back to her. And it might be better to try toreach the vessel that had crashed into the _Sherman_.

  Then another thought occurred to Jerry. Was it another vessel that hadcrashed into the troopship in the fog? Might it not have been someimmense iceberg, which, even now, was bearing down on the swimming lad?

  And then Jerry, in a measure, pulled himself together. He knewthat to dwell on such gloomy thoughts was hampering his powers ofresistance--taking from him his own self-control that he very muchneeded at this time. So, vigorously putting them aside, he increasedthe power of his strokes, though he was beginning to feel the weightof his soaked garments. Again he shook his head to clear his eyes andlooked about him for something toward which to swim. All about him wasthe dense, white fog. He looked for something black looming up throughit--the black side of the troopship, or perhaps the side of the vesselwhich had crashed into the _Sherman_.

  And then, like a flash, it came to Jerry.

  “No, it won’t be black!”

  For a moment that simple thought, which came in the form of a sentencehe might have seen written down, puzzled the lad.

  “Why wouldn’t it be black?” he asked himself, even as he swam about.And then came the subconscious answer.

  “Camouflage paint!”

  That was it! Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

  “If our vessel was camouflaged, as she was,” reasoned Jerry, “the othermight be also. I’ve got to look for something like that and not theordinary black-painted side of a ship. Glad I thought of that. But it’sgoing to be harder to watch for.”

  One thing was in his favor--the sea was calm. The absence of wind forseveral days had made the ocean like some smooth lake, and there wasonly a long, gentle swell on the crests of which Jerry rose and fell ashe swam onward.

  But though he strained his eyes, which smarted somewhat from the saltwater, he could see no fantastically camouflaged side of a vesseltoward which he might make his way to safety.

  “This is queer,” he found himself reasoning. “I couldn’t have fallena great way from the _Sherman_ or the other ship. I must have beenswimming the wrong way in the fog. I’ll turn back.”

  He turned squarely around--as nearly as he could judge the direction inthe fog--and began striking out again. And just as he was beginning towonder why it was he did not see something, his ears became aware of aconfused shouting off to his left; at least he thought it was his left.

  “There she is! There’s the _Sherman_!” Jerry told himself. “I’ve beenheaded wrong! Why didn’t I hear that noise before?”

  Then his ears felt as though warm water had suddenly run out of themfrom inside his head, and he knew what had happened.

  Both ears had filled with water when he took his plunge into the sea,and this had temporarily deafened him. He always had had trouble thatway, even when a small lad, and he used to wear wads of cotton in hisears when he went for a swim. He remembered that on several occasionshe had feared he was going deaf, only to feel, later, the sensation ofwarm water running from his ears, and then his hearing returned.

  The explanation was simple. Jerry’s inner ears filled with water. Itbecame warmed up to nearly 98 degrees by his blood, and then, expandingwith the heat, was forced out naturally. Once his ears were clear ofwater, he could hear as well as before. And that accounted for the factthat he now suddenly heard the shouting which, probably, had been goingon all the while he was in the water.

  “I’m all right now,” decided the tall lad. “I know which way to swim.”

  He really thought he did, though, as it turned out later, he hadmistaken the direction of the noise. And as he swam on, blissfullyunconscious of the fact that he was going farther and farther away fromthe _Sherman_ instead of nearer to it, another thought came to Jerry.He expressed it subconsciously:

  “Why don’t I hear some whistling or some other noise from the vesselthat crashed into us?”

  That was it--why did he not? Once his ears had cleared, Jerry couldcontinue to catch the sound of distant shouting, and also the periodicwhistling of the _Sherman_--he well knew the tones of that instrument.But he did not hear any corresponding note from the other ship that hadbeen in the collision.

  “She ought to be whistling, too,” decided Jerry. “Maybe she’s damaged,and maybe some of her men have been knocked overboard as I was. Sheought to be whistling.”

  But on that mist-covered sea there seemed to be but one vessel in theneighborhood of the swimming lad--and that was the transport which hewas vainly endeavoring to find.

  Then, like a flash, one of his previous thoughts came to Jerry Hopkins.

  “An iceberg can’t whistle!”

  That must be it. An iceberg had been responsible for the crash, andeven now was out there, somewhere, in the fog.

  “_Sherman_ ahoy!” cried Jerry desperately.

  He listened, but there came no answer. The tumult and the shoutingseemed to have died away. Was he leaving the vicinity of the transport,or was she being borne from him in the frozen grip of a mountainousberg?

  Just for an instant, but for an instant only, Jerry lost hope andcourage. He seemed to want to cease swimming and let himself sink. Thenhe got control of himself again, and struck out more vigorously thanbefore.

  HE SEEMED TO WANT TO CEASE SWIMMING AND LET HIMSELFSINK.]

  “I’m not going to die! I’m not going to die!”

  This he told himself over and over again, fiercely.

  “I’m not going to quit! I’m not going to be a quitter!”

  He felt better when he said this over once or twice. He was beginningto feel weary, but he would not allow his mind to dwell on that. Hisbrain forced his legs and arms to do their duty.

  And then, when for perhaps the fiftieth time he had feverishlyrepeated: “I’m not going to be a quitter!” Jerry became aware ofsomething looming up before him out of the fog. At first he took it tobe merely but a thicker cloud of the white mist, and then he imaginedit to be the dirty white of some iceberg.

  But a moment later he knew it for what it was--the camouflaged side ofa vessel.

&nbs
p; “I’ve found the _Sherman_!” cried Jerry aloud. “On board thetransport!” he yelled. “Throw me a line!”

  Nothing but silence greeted him. In growing wonder and fear he swamalong the side of the craft. The waves rose and fell along it lazily,now raising, again lowering him.

  What did it mean? Was the _Sherman_ so badly damaged that she wassinking and had been abandoned? This could hardly have taken place soquickly. There would have been some boats remaining in the vicinity.But no, there was not a sign.

  “Ahoy the _Sherman_!” yelled Jerry.

  No answer. He swam along the side. He came upon a dangling rope, and,by the exercise of his last-remaining strength, he managed to reach thedeck.

  Then one look told him the story. It was a derelict that had crashedinto the _Sherman_, and Jerry Hopkins was now aboard this waif of thesea.