I was compelled to cut the cable and head out for sea. For three days we scudded before the gale. The canvas was torn to ribbons, and one after another my masts went. I managed to cut the wreckage free with an axe.
"'Some days later. What is happening to the ship? She is being drawn by some strong but invisible current. There is no wind, but she is moving fairly fast. What can be going to happen to me? One thing is sure, I am out of the track of ocean vessels. Heaven help me, for I fear I am beyond human aid!'"
"The poor fellow's mind evidently gave way soon after this," said the ensign; "the entries grow disjointed and wild. He declares the cabin is haunted. That the ghosts of the dead mutineers haunt the ship. At last they cease abruptly with the words, 'God be merciful to me, I am going mad.'"
A silence fell over the party in the dead mariner's cabin. The mystery, the spell of the horror of it all, was strong upon them. In each lad's mind was a vivid picture of the unfortunate captain held in the grip of a strange current, being driven day by day further from the track of ships, while his fevered mind pictured ghostly forms all about him.
"How do you suppose his death came?" asked Rob, after the silence had endured some moments.
"I have an ugly suspicion which I shall soon verify," said the ensign; "you boys wait here for a time."
Alone he reëntered the deck-house, where sat the dead seaman. When he returned his face was very grave.
"Boys, my suspicions were correct," he said; "by the man's side I found a pistol. Undoubtedly, crazed by despair, he ended his life."
"After writing this strange paper?" asked Rob.
"Evidently. To judge from the jumble of figures, it was the product of his poor, demented brain."
"If you don't mind, I'll keep it, though," said Rob. "I've an idea about it."
"In what way?"
"Why, that it may not be what you think, after all. It bears the earmarks of an orderly cipher and is not scrawled at all as are the final entries in the log book."
"That's right," agreed the ensign admiringly, "you Boy Scouts have mighty keen minds. Well, my boy, keep it and study it at your leisure, although I am free to confess that I cannot think of it otherwise than in the way mentioned."
"Perhaps you are right," said Rob, "but I'll have a try at puzzling it out, when I get time."
CHAPTER VI.
A STARTLING ADVENTURE
During the conversation recorded none of the party had given much thought to conditions outside. Now, when he stepped to the door of the cabin, the ensign uttered a sharp cry of consternation.
"What's the matter?" asked Rob, as he approached.
"Matter enough. Look there!" was the rejoinder.
A dense white fog had come softly rolling up, and now the derelict Good Hope lay enwrapped in fleecy white clouds, thick and impenetrable.
"Well, we'll have to wait here in the boat till this clears off," declared Bob; "we could never find the Seneca in this mess."
"That's the worst of it," rejoined the lieutenant, "there is no boat."
"No boat," echoed Rob uncomprehendingly; "but we came in one. It will be waiting for us."
"No. I gave orders for the men to return to the Seneca and bring over a destructive mine, for I had determined to blow up this dangerous menace to navigation. They have not returned, that is evident, or I would have been notified. Boys, we are in a bad fix. I don't know how fast this old hulk is drifting; but I imagine that if this keeps up much longer, we shall fetch up a long way from the Seneca's whereabouts."
"Can't they cruise about and find us?" asked Merritt rather piteously. He was not a lad to underestimate the real seriousness of their position on board the old hulk in the impenetrable fog that hung in blanket-like wreaths everywhere about them.
In reply to the boy's question the ensign declared that it would be impossible for the Seneca to pick them up until the weather cleared, if then.
"It would be risking the vessel to cruise about in this smother," he said; "why, she'd be as likely to strike the Good Hope as not!"
Rob's face grew long, though he did his best to make light of the situation.
"Then we've got to picnic here till the fog clears off," he said.
"That's the case exactly, Rob," was the officer's rejoinder.
"But what are we going to picnic on?" inquired Tubby anxiously. "There's no food or water on board, and we haven't brought any."
"There you go again. Always thinking of that precious tummy of yours," cried Hiram. "A little starving won't hurt you."
"Huh, just because you look like a human bean pole, you don't think anyone has a right to be fat. You're jealous, that's what you are," was the indignant reply of the fat youth.
Under other conditions there might have ensued a rough and tumble battle; but just at this instant, through the fog, there came the booming sound of a vessel's whistle.
"Waugh-gh-gh-gh!"
The long bellow sounded through the white, all-enveloping mist surrounding the old hulk and its young company of castaways.
"That's the Seneca's whistle," exclaimed the ensign anxiously. "She's calling for us."
"Gee! She must know that we can't come to her," exclaimed Paul Perkins.
"I guess she's 'standing by' till the fog lifts," rejoined the officer. "We'll release the bell. That may help to locate us."
But instead of standing by, it became apparent, before long, that the Seneca was cruising about. The reason for supposing this was that the next time they heard the hoot of the siren it sounded much further off.
The boys exchanged glances.
"How long do these fogs last, as a rule?" enquired Merritt.
"Impossible to say!" was the quick reply, with an anxious look about. "If only we could get a slant of wind!"
But there was not a breath stirring. Only the Good Hope swung to the soft swells, lifting and falling with a hopeless, helpless sort of motion. In fact, an experienced seaman could have told her waterlogged condition by the very "heft and heave" of her, which was sluggish to a degree.
"Well, I suppose we must make up our minds to spend some time here," said Rob, with another attempt to treat the matter lightly. "Goodness, our adventures are surely beginning early this trip!"
The others could not help but agree with the young leader of the Eagles, although they could hardly foresee the still more thrilling experiences that lay just ahead of them.
"I would suggest," began the ensign presently, "I would suggest that we search for some trace of food."
"Humph; mouldy ship's biscuits!" grunted Tubby half under his breath. "Even if there are any on board, they must be rotten by this time. This is a fine fix! Maybe we won't get any supper at all," and the fat boy looked positively tragic over the dire prospect.
