CHAPTER XXV
In Which a Very Serious Question Is Discussed
The boat from the Gullwing was so near the maelstrom caused by the sinking of the ship that her bow was sucked under and she shipped a lot of water. We saw the boys bailing energetically.
Then Thank stood up and cast off his outer clothing and his shoes. Bob Promise, who pulled the bow oar, followed suit. They each took the precaution to lash the end of a line to one wrist before going overboard. Where the Seamew had sunk was a circle of tossing waves, and broken bits of wreckage were popping up from below in a most dangerous fashion.
The suspense aboard the Gullwing and in the boat was great indeed as the two young fellows went down. If the Barneys had been entangled in any wreckage on the lost vessel, Thank and Bob would never be able to reach them, for the sea at that spot is very deep, and the hulk of the schooner would finally rest upon the bottom.
Mr. Gates had run back to the stern and stood beside me, gazing off across the tumbling sea.
“God help the boy!” he muttered, and I knew he referred to our Mr. Barney. “I doubt now he’d rather be under the seas than above after this day’s work.”
“Do you believe it was Mr. Barney’s fault?” I whispered.
He started and looked around at me. I repeated my question.
“Was it Jim Barney’s fault?” he returned. “What do you think?”
“I don’t believe it. He sheered off——”
“Too late,” muttered Mr. Gates.
“Just as soon as the captain ordered him to,” I declared eagerly. “When Captain Bowditch ordered him to ‘Keep off’ he swung her over. I saw him.”
“It was too late then, I tell you,” declared the first mate of the Gullwing.
“But how about Mr. Alf Barney?” I cried. “He held on to the course all the time till she hit us.”
Mr. Gates said nothing.
“If it was anybody’s fault it was Mr. Alf Barney’s,” I repeated, stubbornly.
“No. It cannot be laid to his fault in any case,” said the mate, sternly.
“Why not, sir?” I asked.
“Because his captain gave no order. Captain Si had the deck. He was in command.”
“Then Captain Bowditch is at fault, too,” I declared. “He did not speak quick enough.”
“He gave the order quick enough,” returned Mr. Gates, gloomily, “but Jim Barney hesitated. That’s where the fault lies. Jim Barney hated to give the Seamew right of way, and he held us onto the course after he was ordered to keep off. That’s where the fault lies, my boy—that’s where it lies.”
At another time I do not suppose the mate would have discussed the point with me, I being merely a foremast hand. But we were all stirred up and for the moment quarterdeck etiquette was forgotten.
But in a moment there was a cheer raised in our little boat, dancing out there on the swells. Thank’s head appeared, and one hand grasped the gunwale of the boat. He dragged into view the two Barney’s, locked in an embrace that could not be broken.
Bob Promise came to his help instantly. Together they held the twins up. Both the Barneys were unconscious. Mr. Jim must have had a frightful fight down there under the sea to hold to his brother and get out of the strong suck of the settling wreck.
The brothers were hauled into the small boat, and then Thank and Bob followed. As quickly as possible she was rowed back to the Gullwing.
Meanwhile the big tug Sea Horse had steamed up to us and rounded to under our bows. The hawser was passed and Mr. Gates took charge of the rigging of the bridle. Our skipper himself went to the rail to meet the incoming boat.
“Good boys,” he said, warmly. “It’s a pity poor old Si warn’t found, too.”
I wondered if that was so. It seemed to me that Captain Silas Somes was the man mainly to blame for the tragedy. I could not believe that the onus of it would be heaped upon our second mate.
The boat was hoisted in. Both the Barneys remained unconscious; but Mr. Hollister and the captain declared they would be all right soon. Mr. Alf Barney had not been seriously injured by the falling of the mast. They were taken below and Mr. Hollister took charge of them, with one of his own hands to help in bringing the brothers back to their senses.
The Gullwing quickly felt the tug of the hawser binding her to the Sea Horse and with her sails clewed up she wallowed on through the choppy seas into the broad mouth of the Chesapeake.
No need of aiding the steam-tug by hoisting sail. The race was over. The Seamew had run her course and the Gullwing was the winner. But a sorry winning of the race it proved to be.
Mr. Gates kept both watches at work for a time making the loose spars secure. The steel stays that had been broken had to be reset, or we might have one of our masts coming down as the Seamew’s had.
The work was done before the second dog-watch and then we had a chance to sit down and fraternize with the men from the Seamew.
“What gave the old Seamew her ticket,” said Job Perkins, “was our changing a live man for a dead one. When Clint, here, went over the side and a man that had been garroted came back inboard, I knowed we was in for trouble. And that ten dollars you’re to pay me at Baltimore,” he whispered in my ear, “ain’t going to pay me for the dunnage I lost.”
“How d’ye s’pose that feller got strangled with his lanyard?” demanded another of the Seamew’s men.
“Ask that nigger they’ve got aboard the Gullwing here,” growled another. “He knows. And he’ll hafter tell it to the consul.”
But I made up my mind that, if it were possible, Dao Singh should not be obliged to go before any court, or any consul, to explain that matter. The fact was, there wasn’t anything he could explain. Under a dreadful provocation he had killed the sailor. But I doubted if his excuse for committing the act would be accepted by the law.
The men were mainly interested, however, in the circumstances surrounding the collision of the sister ships and the sinking of the Seamew. The great question was: Who was at fault? But we conducted the discussion in very low tones, that the officer on deck might not overhear us.
“Talk as ye please,” grunted Job Perkins. “If two other men—men that warn’t Barneys—had been at the helm of the two ships, there wouldn’t never been no trouble.”
“Well,” declared I, “our Mr. Barney sheered off.”
“Not soon enough,” said Tom Thornton, shaking his head.
“Just as soon as the order was given!” I cried. “And it wasn’t our place to give way, at that.”
“Oh,” said Job, “we’ll all grant the old man—Cap’n Si—was the main one to blame. Leastways, he’s the one dead, and the dead man is always blamed. But Mr. Alf Barney never got no word to change his helm—and yours did.”
“The ships come together; they was bound to do so, sooner or later,” said old Stronson, shaking his head. “It iss not de men iss to blame—no! You remember the Chieftain and de Antelope? Dey was sister ships, too. Dey could not be anchored within a cable’s length of each odder, or dey come togedder.”
“By jings! the old man’s right,” declared Tom Thornton. “I sailed on the Antelope once. There seemed to be magnets drawin’ them two ships together. Gettin’ under way at Savannah we bumped the Chieftain and tore away her fore chains and made a mess of our own bows.”
“I heered if the two craft was anchored full and plenty apart, and in no tideway, they’d rub sides within twenty-four hours,” said another man.
“And das iss de trut’,” declared Stronson. “Dey wass sister ships—like das Seamew and Gullwing. Nopoty can keep dem apart when dey gets jest so near to each odder.”
“That’s so! I bet that was what did it more than the Barney boys,” agreed Job Perkins.
“Sich things happen, as we knows,” said Tom Thornton.
And I declare, all the old fellows went off on this tangent and accepted this idea as the true explanation for the sinking of the Seamew. They talked it over and became more and more positive that it was so. The superstition that the sister ships had a natural attraction for each other took a firm hold upon their minds. I could see plainly that if the firm had any of these old barnacles into court, they would swear to this ridiculous idea. At least, it might throw a bit of weight against the idea that the Barney boys had deliberately wrecked the two ships.
“Jest the same,” observed old Tom, slowly, “study on it as we may, there’s one place where it’ll be decided for sure, as far as the legal end of it goes. The insurance court will have the last say.”
“Wrong you be, Tom,” declared Job, “wrong you be. The final settlement of the hull matter will be in the offices of Barney, Blakesley & Knight. Never mind what the court says, nor how the insurance is adjusted; them two boys will hafter go before the firm.”
“By mighty! that’s so,” agreed Tom.
“And the way it’s turned out,” pursued Job, “it looks like Mr. Jim Barney would have the best of it.”
“How so?” we asked.
“Don’t you see that he’s bound ter be first ashore at Baltimore?” and the Seamew’s oldest hand chuckled. “He’s come through on his ship and will stand first in the old man’s estimation—no matter how he done it. Ye know Jothan Barney.”
“By crackey! will Mr. Jim beat Mr. Alfred, then, and be boss of the firm?” Thankful Polk demanded.
“That’ll be the end of the story, son,” said Job, turning his cud in his cheek. “Old Jothan sent ’em out, one ter beat the other. By jinks! one has beat the other. No matter how he’s done it. It’s done, and so old Jothan will agree, I reckon.”
“But won’t the firm punish Mr. Jim?” I asked.
“I wanter see the firm do anything that old Jothan don’t want it to do,” scoffed Job.
“And that’s so, too,” agreed old Tom.
“Then, believing that Mr. Jim Barney deliberately wrecked the Seamew so as to beat his brother into Baltimore, you fellows think his uncle will receive him with open arms?”
“That’ll be about it,” said Job. “Jothan Barney is that way. He wanted one of his nephews to show what they call ‘initiative’ and all that. Jim Barney’s showed it——”
“And risked drowning a whole ship’s crew—two ships’ crews, in fact!—including his brother?” I cried. “You believe he did that just to get ahead and win his uncle’s approval?”
“That’s it,” said Job.
“Then if he hated his brother so,” I demanded, raising my voice in my earnestness, “why did he risk his own life to save him?”
The men were silent for a moment. Then Mr. Gates’ voice came booming forward from the quarter:
“You men stow your jaw-tackle. You’re gassin’ too much.”
That ended the discussion. But I was by no means convinced that the seamen understood the two Barneys. I had an entirely different idea of how the matter would fall out in the end.