CHAPTER I

THE HURRICANE

"Will we ever weather this terrible storm?"

It was a half-grown lad who flung this despairing question out; the wind carried the sound of his voice off over the billows; but there came no answer.

A brigantine, battered by the tropical hurricane sweeping up from the Caribbean Sea, was staggering along like a wounded beast. Her masts had long since gone by the board, and upon the stump of the mizzen-stick a bit of canvas like a goose-wing had been spread in the useless endeavor to maintain steerageway.

All around, the sea rose and fell in mountainous waves, on which the poor wreck tossed about, as helpless as a cork.

Though the lad, lashed to some of the rigging that still clung to the temporary jury mast, strained his eyes to the utmost, he could see nothing but the waste of waves, the uplifting tops of which curled over, and were snatched away in flying spud by the furious wind.

Darry was the cabin boy of the Falcon, having sailed with Captain Harley now for several years. The old navigator had run across him in a foreign port, and under most peculiar conditions.

Hearing a boyish voice that somehow struck his fancy, raised in angry protest, followed by the crack of a whip, and much loud laughing, the skipper of the brigantine had pushed into a café in Naples.

Here he discovered a small, but sturdy lad, who had apparently been playing a violin for coppers, refusing to dance for a big brute of a sailor, an Italian, who had seized upon his beloved instrument.

When the boy had made an effort to recover the violin the bully deliberately smashed it on the back of a chair.

Then, laughing at the poor little chap's expressions of grief as he gathered up the pieces tenderly in his arms, the brutal sailor had seized upon a carter's whip, and cracking it loudly, declared that he would lay it over the boy's shoulders unless he mounted a table and danced to his whistling.

It was then that the big mariner strode in and stood between the lad and his cowardly persecutors.

When good-hearted Captain Harley heard the boy's pitiful story, and that he was a waif, having been abandoned some years before by an old man with whom he seemed to have been traveling, he offered to befriend him, and give him a chance to see something of the world as cabin boy on the good old brigantine, Falcon.

This offer the little chap had eagerly accepted, for he believed he must be of American birth, and somehow longed to set foot on that land far across the sea.

Some years had passed.

Darry knew no other home save the friendly cabin of the brigantine, and since he had no knowledge as to what his name might be, by degrees he came to assume that of his benefactor.

During these years the boy had seen much of the world, and learned many things under the guidance of the warm-hearted captain.

Of course he spent many bitter hours in vain regrets over the fact that there was so little chance of his ever learning his identity—only a slender link seemed to connect him with that mysterious past that was hidden from his sight; and this was a curious little scar upon his right arm just below the elbow.

It looked like a crescent moon, and had been there ever since he could remember.

This fact caused Darry to believe it might be the result of some accident that must have occurred while he was yet a baby.

If such were the case then some people, somewhere, would be apt to recognize this peculiar mark if they ever saw it again.

Captain Harley had always encouraged him in the belief that some happy day he would surely know the truth.

Just now, however, it really looked as though Darry need no longer allow himself to feel any anxiety on that score.

The ocean depths would offer just as easy a resting place to a nameless waif as to a crowned monarch.

When the great waves broke over the drifting vessel the rush of water must have swept him away, only that he had been wise enough to lash himself to the stump of the mizzen-mast.

During a little lull in the tempest someone joined him, also using the whipping rope-ends to secure his hold.

Darry saw by the aid of the darting lightning that it was his good friend, the captain; and with his thoughts still taken up with the peril of his situation he repeated the question that only the mocking winds had heard before:

"Will we ever weather this storm, captain?"

"I fear not, my lad," replied the master of the ship, sadly, "the poor old hulk is now only a plaything for the elements. It looks as though the Falcon had reached the end of her voyaging at last. Twenty years have I commanded her. I have a feeling that if so be she goes down I will not survive her."

The roar of the gale was such that it became necessary to shout at times, in order to make one's self heard above the elements.

"Are we near the coast?" asked the boy, anxiously; for he knew that such a thing must double their danger.

"I am afraid it is only too true, though the storm has been so prolonged that I have long ago lost my reckoning," replied the mariner.

"But you told me these coasts are patrolled by brave life savers, who always stand ready to risk everything in case a vessel is driven on the reefs?" continued the boy, trying to see a gleam of hope through the gloom.

"That is true, but alas! I am afraid even the bravest of men would find themselves helpless in such a terrific blow as this."

"But, captain, surely you have not given up all hope?" anxiously demanded Darry, trying to face the terrible prospect with a brave heart.

"I never do that, lad. But one of us may not live to reach the shore; and since it is so, I wanted to have a few last words with you, and then I must return to my duty, which is to try and steer this drifting hulk until the end comes."

He reached out his hand.

The boy eagerly clutched it, and there, as the lightning flashed, he looked into the kind face of his benefactor.

Something seemed to tell him that it was the last time he would ever feel the pressure of that friendly hand, and this thought alarmed him as the storm had thus far been unable to do.

"Listen, and take heed, my lad," said the skipper, earnestly, "it may be that Providence will shield you through this time of trouble, and that you shall reach the shore in safety after all. Should ill befall me I want you to write my old mother up in York State—you know where she lives. I have made all preparations, so that she will be provided for, and my sister also. Do you understand me?"

"Oh! yes, sir! But I hope we may both pull through!" cried the boy, earnestly.

"So do I, for life is sweet; but it may not be. Now, lad, about yourself, and I am done. Remember all that I have taught you. Then you will grow up to be a true man. And continue to search for some evidence of your people. That mark on your arm may be of great value to you some day. Hark! I fancied I caught the sound of the breakers just then! It is possible that the time has come for us to part. Good bye, my boy, and God bless you whatever betide!"

Another fierce pressure of the hand, and Captain Harley was gone.

Standing there, filled with horror and dismay, Darry caught a last glimpse of his guardian staggering across the wet deck, and then the gloom forever hid him from view.

The days would come, and the days would go, but always must he remember that the last thought of the noble captain was for him.

He strained his hearing to ascertain whether the captain's fears were well founded, and it was not long before he too could catch the awful pounding of the seas upon the half-submerged reefs.

The helpless brigantine was drifting slowly, but surely to her fate; for there was hardly a place along the whole American coast more dangerous than this, which had in times past proved a graveyard for many noble ships.

Among the tangled rigging was a broken spar, and to this Darry lashed himself, in the faint hope that if it were swept ashore he might still cling to life.

He awaited the impending crash with his heart cold within his breast; for after all he was but a lad, and the strongest men might have viewed the catastrophe with a sickening sense of dread.

Then came a fearful shock, as the brigantine was smashed down upon the jaws of the reef by a mighty force.

After that the seas had her for a plaything, rushing completely over her as if in derision.

Three times the boy was almost drowned by the flood that poured across that slanting deck, and he knew that if he remained there longer his time had surely come. It would be better to cut loose from the mast, and trust his fortunes upon the breast of the next giant wave that, if it were kind, would carry him well over the rocks, and head him for the distant beach.

It was in sheer desperation that he seized upon his sailor's knife and severed the ropes that thus far had held so securely.

Then he awaited the coming of the next comber with set teeth, and held his breath.

A few seconds and it was upon him.

This time the spar, as well as the clinging lad, went sweeping over the side of the vessel, and carried safely above the reef, started in toward the beach on a roller that seemed gigantic.

The spray was in his eyes, so that he could hardly see at all, but at that moment Darry thought he glimpsed a light somewhere ahead; and what the captain had told him about the gallant life savers flashed into his mind.

Somehow, it seemed to give the despairing boy renewed hope.

Perhaps these brave men were watching for the coming of just such flotsam from the wreck, which they must have sighted when the lightning flashed; and would find some means for plucking him out of the raging sea.

CHAPTER II

SAVED BY THE LIFE CHAIN

The line of reefs stood as a barrier to the sea, and after the waves came in contact with the rocks they continued on their course with less violence than before.

Still, it was terrible enough to any one exposed to their fury.

Hope soars high in the breast of youth, however, and life is sweet, so that our hero continued to struggle against the forces to which he found himself exposed.

Again had his eyes caught a glimpse of a burning light on the shore, and somehow it gave him renewed courage to hold on, for he seemed to understand that determined hearts were waiting there, eager to give him a helping hand.

Then some object sped past him, and he caught the sight of flashing oars.

It was the lifeboat!

In spite of the great danger involved in the undertaking, the coast guards had succeeded in launching their boat, and were even now heading toward the wreck on the reef; though the chances of finding a single living soul aboard seemed small indeed, for the billows were breaking completely over her, and she must soon go to pieces.

Darry tried to call out, but his mouth filled with salty water, and in despair he saw the boat pass him by.

Even the lightning failed to illumine the scene just then, or some eager eye might have detected the floating spar and its human burden.

No hope remained save that he might be tossed up on the beach somewhere near the friendly fire that was burning as a beacon.

Once he fancied he heard men shouting during a lull in the roar of the elements; but the coming of another smothering billow shut out the friendly sounds.

Closer he was flung, until he could again hear the shouts of men, but the baffling seas kept playing with him, sending him up on the breaking wave only to once more snatch him back, until the poor boy almost despaired of living through the dreadful ordeal.

He tried his best to raise his voice, but the cry he gave utterance to was so feeble that even if heard it must have been taken for the note of some storm bird attracted by the light of the beacon fire.

Just when he was giving way to despair, he saw the figures of men running along the beach close to the edge of the waves, and new hope awoke in his breast that his predicament had been seen.

Now they were pushing into the sea, holding one another's hands, and forming a living chain, with a sturdy fellow at the end to snatch the victim of the wreck out of the jaws of death.

The precious sight was at that instant shut out, for again there came a deluge of water from behind, overwhelming the boy on the floating spar.

Darry felt something take hold upon him, which, in his excited condition, he at first believed to be a shark; but, on the contrary, it proved to be the fingers of the man at the outer end of the line.

Once they closed upon the person of the shipwrecked cabin boy they could not be easily induced to let go, and amid shouts of triumph, spar and lad were speedily dragged up on the beach beyond reach of the hungry waves.

He was dimly conscious of being released from his friendly float, and tenderly carried a short distance to the shelter of a house.

It was the life-saving station to which the boy had been taken by his rescuers.

Here he was wrapped in blankets, and placed close to a warm fire in order to restore his benumbed faculties; while some hot liquid being forced between his pallid lips served to give new strength to his body.

In less than ten minutes he opened his eyes and looked around.

Kind faces, even though rough and bearded, surrounded him, and he knew that for once he had cheated the sea of a victim.

As strength came back he began to take an interest in what was passing around him, especially when he saw several men carried in, whom he recognized as some of the sailors of the ill-fated brigantine.

Eagerly he watched and prayed that his good friend the captain might be one of those who had been snatched from a watery grave; but as time passed this hope gradually became fainter.

The lifeboat had managed to return from the wreck, to report that not a living soul remained aboard; and that the seas were so tremendous that even had it been otherwise there would have been small chance of saving them, since it was next to impossible to approach close to the vessel.

How the boy, lying there, looked with almost reverence upon those stalwart fellows who were risking their lives in the effort to save their fellow men.

Darry would never forget that hour.

The impressions he received then would remain with him through life; and in his eyes the calling of a life saver must always be reckoned the noblest vocation to which a young man could pledge himself.

He thought he would like nothing better than to become one of the band, and in some way repay the great debt he owed them by doing as he had been done by.

Presently he had so far recovered that he could get up and move around.

All of the sailors had not been equally fortunate; indeed, two of them would never again scour the seas, having taken out papers for that long voyage the end of which no mortal eye can see.

As each new arrival was carried in the boy would be the first to hasten forward, but as often his sigh echoed the heavy feeling in his heart as he discovered a face other than the familiar one he had grown to love.

One of the surfmen who had manned the lifeboat seemed to be particularly interested in the rescued boy, for he came into the station several times to ask how he was feeling, and if there was not something more he wanted.

He was a tall, angular fellow, with a thin but engaging face, and Darry had heard some of the others call him Abner Peake.

Somehow he found himself drawn toward this man from the start; and it seemed as though in losing one good friend he had found another to take the place of the kind captain.

Abner was a native of the shore, and spoke in the peculiar dialect of the uneducated Southerner; but as a water-dog he knew no superior, and it is this quality that Uncle Sam looks for when making up his crews to man the life-saving stations that dot the whole coast from Maine to Florida.

There was a twang about his voice that reminded Darry of a negro he had once had for a shipmate on the brigantine; but at the same time his tone was soft, and inspired confidence.

"Better hev a leetle more coffee, bub?" he said, coming upon Darry as the latter turned away white-faced from the last body carried in by the rough men.

"Perhaps it would do me good; I still feel mighty weak; but I'm glad to be here instead of out there," replied Darry, pointing to where the white-capped waves were rushing in long lines toward the beach.

"Course yuh be, bub. And we-uns air glad tuh get a chanct tuh pull yuh outen the water. My old woman'd like tuh set eyes on yuh. Jest the age our Joe would a-ben if he'd pulled through," and the rough surfman swept his sleeve across his eyes as he spoke.

The secret of his interest in Darry was out; he had lost a boy of his own, and his heart was very tender still, so that the sight of this poor shipwrecked lad brought back his own sorrow keenly.

"You haven't seen anything of the captain, I suppose?" anxiously asked Darry, wondering if it could possibly be that he had missed sight of his friend at the time he was lying there unconscious.

Abner Peake shook his head in the negative.

He saw the boy was very eager to learn of the mariner's fate, and well he knew that with each passing minute the chances of the other surviving the pounding of the seas became less and less.

It was now not far from dawn.

The hurricane still blew with its old violence, and there was scant hope of its passing for another twelve hours at least.

All that time those devoted men must be on the watch, ready to man their surfboat again and take their lives in hand, should another vessel strike the dangerous reefs that were marked upon the chart as the worst within a hundred miles of Hatteras.

Sick at heart over the loss of his wise friend and benefactor, Darry found the interior of the station almost unbearable just then.

He felt as though he must get outside where the elements rioted, and watch the incoming waves for some sign of the captain.

But this new-found friend declared that it could do no good, since the beach was already patrolled by those whose keen eyes would discover the faintest trace of a brave swimmer trying to buffet the cruel waves; he must remain under cover, so as to escape the possible evil results of his late experience.

And so Darry had to once more lie down and let the other cover him with a blanket, a pillow having been placed under his head.

He was utterly exhausted, and it had only been hope and excitement that had buoyed him up until now.

As he lay there watching the various things that were being done for the relief of the poor fellows snatched from a watery grave he found his eyes growing heavy, and occasionally closing in spite of his efforts to remain awake.

Once he sat up as some men came in bearing another sailor who, alas, had apparently been dragged out of the sea too late to save the spark of life; but, upon learning that it was not the one in whose fate he was so keenly interested, Darry had fallen back again upon his hard pillow.

Soon after things faded from his sight, and he slept the sleep of weariness, for every muscle in his body was as sore as though it had been pounded with a club.

It was hours before he awoke.

At first he could not understand just where he was or how he came in such unfamiliar surroundings; but seeing the kindly face of Abner Peake bending over, he asked a mute question that the other answered with a shake of his head.

The captain's body had not as yet come ashore.

CHAPTER III

ABNER PEAKE'S OFFER

Days passed. Darry had entirely given up hope of ever hearing from the captain, whose body must have been carried out to sea again, as were several of the crew.

After the shock became less severe, our hero began to take a new interest in the scene around him, and particularly in connection with the life-saving station where his new friend Abner was quartered.

The keeper was a grizzled surfman named Frazer, and a man possessed of some education; he did not awaken the same feelings in the boy as Abner Peake, but at the same time he was evidently inclined to be friendly in his own gruff way.

On the third day after the rescue he called Darry to him as he sat mending a net with which the crew of the station secured enough fish to serve them for an occasional meal.