Bert Wilson, Marathon Winner Read online

  CHAPTER IX

  MAN OVERBOARD!

  Dusk had succeeded the glorious sun-set and touched it with the sombrehue of twilight. The day had been exceptionally hot, a day when oneseems to find just sufficient energy to lounge in an easy chair underthe pretense of reading a novel until a delightful drowsiness creepsover you and all pretense is at an end--you are sleeping the sleep ofthe just on a scorching summer day.

  But now night had descended on the stately _Northland_, and with it hadcome a cool, refreshing breeze. All was quiet, serene, peaceful, andamong the passengers, lounging in groups about the deck, conversationwas carried on in undertones.

  "Gee," Tom was saying, softly. "This has been one great day, hasn't it?Nothing to do but hang around on deck, alternately reading, sleeping andwatching the wheels go 'round."

  "Yes, I guess this is about the first day since we have been on boardthat something exciting hasn't happened and it seems mighty good for achange."

  "Look out," Bert warned. "The day isn't over yet and there is plenty oftime for something exciting to happen between this and midnight. For mypart, I wouldn't much mind if it did, for after a day like this you feelas if you needed something to wake you up."

  "Do you?" Tom queried, sarcastically. "I feel just now as if I had moreurgent need of something to put me to sleep," and with a yawn he droppedinto a convenient chair and settled himself comfortably with his feetagainst the rail. "Sing us that song you used to sing at college beforewe threatened to set the Black Hand on your trail, Dick," he invited."Perhaps that will help to woo sweet slumber."

  "It would be much more likely to woo sweet nightmare," said Bert, whichwas true if not complimentary.

  "That's all right," Dick retorted, good-naturedly. "Of course, Iunderstand that this apparent reluctance on your part is due entirely tosour grapes since you doubtless are aware of the fact that I never wouldcondescend----"

  "Oh can it," Tom murmured, sleepily. "If you won't sing, the least youcan do is to keep still and let a fellow go to sleep."

  "Oh, certainly," Dick said, obligingly, "anything you wish. As I wassaying," he went on with a wink at Bert, "you are doubtless aware that Iwould never condescend to render that immortal ballad before so----"

  "You have gone too far," Tom cried in a terrible voice, as he sprang forDick. "You have dared disobey my mandates and now you shall suffer thepenalty----"

  But the mock tragedy was never enacted, for, even as Tom spoke, hisattention was caught by the figure of a man covered from head to footwith soot and grime and running toward their end of the deck at fullspeed. At his heels was a crowd led by the steward who cried outfrantically to the boys, "Stop him, stop him! He's gone mad!"

  So suddenly had come the thunder-bolt from a clear sky that for a fewseconds the boys could do nothing but stare at the spectacle before themand wonder if they could be awake. In fact, Bert confessed later that hehad had a faint impression that Dick's nightmare must have come uponthem ahead of time.

  Bert was the first to take in the situation and with a cry of, "I guessit's up to us, fellows," he ran toward the wild figure now only a fewfeet in front of them. But even as the three comrades threw out theirhands to halt the flying madman, he paused, glared around him for aninstant with the look of a hunted animal brought to bay, and then, witha fierce, inhuman cry that echoed in Bert's memory for many a long dayafter, he threw himself over the rail and into the glassy depths nearlyforty feet below!

  For a brief moment there was the silence of death on board the_Northland_, and then arose such an uproar that even the captain's greatvoice, shouting orders to the crew, could scarcely be heard above thedin.

  "'Tis nought but a stoker gone crazy with the heat of the day," Bertheard a man say.

  "Ay," growled a stoker who had also overheard. "'Tis a wonder that weare all not crazy or dead this day, but that poor devil is worse offthan us for he can't swim a stroke."

  "Did you say that that man can't swim?" Bert demanded, while a look ofhorror crept over his face.

  "That I did, young feller," the stoker answered, as he eyed Bertinsolently from head to foot, "though doubtless he can find something tohang on to until----"

  But Bert never heard the end of the sentence for he was busy untying hisshoes and stripping off his coat.

  "Bert, Bert, you are never going to risk your life needlessly for thatmadman," Tom pleaded. "The boat is stopping, now, and it will pick himup in a few minutes. Anyway he's crazy----"

  But Bert stopped him. "He's a man," he said simply, "and he can't swim."Then there was a flash of white in the air, a quick splash and Bert wason his way to save a life.

  Down there in the eddy and swirl of the waves, Bert had but one thought,one hope--to reach that little speck that he had sighted from the deckof the steamer. Nor did it once occur to him that he could have actedotherwise. One of his fellow beings had need of his splendid strengthand skill, and not until they failed him would he give up the fight.

  So on and on he swam, taxing his great vitality and endurance to theutmost. But to his tortured fancy it seemed as though he were beingdragged backward. Surely he could not be making any progress at all atthis speed. Then a fierce feeling of anger swept over him, burning himlike a flame--anger at this feeling of impotence that threatened tomaster him.

  "One would think," he raged, "that I had never been outside a countrytown in my life. I am making progress. I can save that fellow's life,and what's more, I'm going to."

  Ah, that was better! Now every long, powerful stroke did its work andsoon he was within a few feet of the spot where the madman was holdingon to a slippery piece of driftwood, that now and again slipped fromhis numbed fingers, only to be regained by a desperate effort.

  As Bert neared him, the stoker cried out frantically, "Don't come nearme! Don't touch me! I'll kill you if you do!"

  But as he spoke his fingers lost their grip and he would have sunk belowthe surface if it had not been for Bert's cat-like quickness. In aflash, he had grasped the stoker around the waist and lifted his headabove the water, but he was not quite prepared for what was to follow.

  For a second the stoker lay passive in Bert's grasp, gasping for breath.Then with the quick, sinuous motion of a reptile he twisted about andmet his fingers around Bert's throat in the vise-like grip that only amaniac can effect and began slowly to tighten his hold.

  In desperation Bert tore at the relentless fingers, fighting with allthe fierceness of a wild animal for his life. But the more he struggledthe tighter grew that band of iron about his neck. They were under waternow, but not even threatened suffocation could make the madman loose hisgrip. Tighter and tighter it grew, until Bert felt the blood go poundingup into his brain and his eyes seemed starting from his head.

  Was this to be the end, then, of all his hopes, of all his dreams, ofall his aspirations? His college, his friends, his two dear comrades,was he to lose all these now, when his future was filled with suchbright promise? And that by the hands of a man he had risked his life tosave!

  Then once again came that rush of wild, hot anger, this time athousandfold more fierce than before, and again it seemed to give himexhaustless strength. He drew his arm back slowly, and then with all thestrength of his body behind it planted his fist squarely in the madman'sforehead.

  Then, at last, that iron grip loosened and the fingers relaxed theirhold. With great joy and exultation in his heart, Bert grasped the armas it slipped past him and dragged him to the surface.

  With a feeling of exquisite comfort and ease, he floated on his back,drawing in great breaths of the glorious air into his tortured lungs.Softly as in a dream he heard the faint dip of oars in the water andthen came Dick's voice calling his name.

  "Stay where you are, Bert," it was saying. "We'll be with you in ajiffy, now."

  "You mean we will if this hanged boat ever stops going backward andmakes up its mind to travel in the right direction," Tom saidimpatiently. "We've been five minutes getting nowhere, already."

 
; "Stop your growling, Tom," Dick commanded. "You ought to be soall-fired thankful to see Bert floating on the surface instead of beingentertained in Davy Jones' locker that you wouldn't have time foranything but thanksgiving."

  "You don't suppose that I'm not thankful, do you," Tom demanded,huskily. "If he hadn't come up again after we saw him go underI--well--I--Bert," he called, lustily, to hide the break in his voice,"can you hear us now?"

  "Sure thing," came a weak voice that they nevertheless recognized asBert's.

  Then the rowers redoubled their efforts and in a few strokes had reachedthe spot where Bert floated with his still-unconscious burden. In lesstime than it takes to tell, willing hands had lifted the stoker into theboat and Bert was half dragged, half pushed in after him. For thefierce, superhuman strength that had come to him in his extremity hadpassed as quickly as it had come, leaving him as weak as a rag. It hadbeen through sheer grit and will power that he had been able to hold onto the stoker until the boat could relieve him.

  As he was hauled into the boat, Dick and Tom fell upon him, halflaughing, half crying and wholly joyful. They showered him with praisesand called him every endearing name they could think of, such as--"dearold fellow, game old scout," and a hundred others equally incoherentbut eminently satisfactory.

  After five minutes of hard pulling, the little boat reached thesteamer's side. Her rails were crowded with passengers, waiting towelcome in the first real drama that many of them had ever witnessed.

  As Bert was helped on deck he was welcomed with a rousing cheer thatmight have been heard for a mile around the ship. Bert flushed withpleasure and acknowledged the salute as best he could in his drippinggarments, while he whispered to his two companions:

  "Get me into the cabin as soon as you can, will you, fellows? It's fineof them to greet me so right royally, but I know I must look a wreck andit wouldn't feel so very bad to get some dry clothes on."

  Meanwhile, the stoker, who had not regained consciousness, was takenbelow to receive medical attention. As the sailors laid him on his bunkthey muttered discontentedly of the inadvisability of rescuing madstokers, who were little better than land lubbers, anyway.

  "Sure and now we'll be having one more worthless shpalpeen on ourhands," O'Brien was saying. "Oi'm not sayin' as it wasn't a brave thingthat that young feller has been afther doin', but jist the same it would'a been bether to have left him there and saved us the throuble ofburying of him later."

  "Ay, ay, so say I," growled another. "He'll probably die before theweek's out, and 'tis my opinion that he's better dead than alive, seein'he's crazy, poor devil."

  "Hush! he's conscious," warned the doctor, as he rose from his kneelingposition beside the bunk. "He will do nicely, now, with good care. I'llbe back in an hour to see how he's getting along."

  As the doctor left the room, the two sailors neared the stoker, who laywith his eyes closed, as if absolutely oblivious to their presence.

  "Well, old b'y," said O'Brien, "how be ye feelin' afther your duckin'?Pretty spry?"

  Slowly the man opened his eyes and let them rest for a long minute onthe big Irishman's ruddy face. When he spoke, the words came haltingly,as if he were groping in his memory for facts that persistently eludedhim.

  "I don't seem to recollect," he said, "just exactly what happened. WasI--did I"--and the fear and pleading in his voice went straight toO'Brien's heart--"was I--mad?"

  "Now don't you worry about that, son," O'Brien lied, kindly. "Ye wuzn'tmad, ye wuz jist a thrifle touched be the heat. Oi'll bet anythin' ye'llbe up 'n aroun' as hale an' hearty as the skipper himself in a day ortwo." Then he added in an undertone to his companion, "Bedad, an' if heain't as sane as any man jack of us, me name ain't Pat O'Brien. Sure an'Oi ain't niver seen the loike of it before."

  "Me neither," the other answered in awestruck tones. "He goes off theboat madder than a March hare and comes back after a dip in the brinyand a knock-out punch over one eye seemin' as right as a trivet. Itbeats all."

  Meanwhile the man on the bed had been watching the men wistfully, andas O'Brien turned to him again, he asked eagerly, "Please tell meeverything. I know I was out of my head, so you needn't be afraid totell me the truth."

  "Sure and Oi will, then," Pat said, heartily, and he did, from beginningto end, omitting nothing.

  When the tale was finished the doctor came again to have another look athis patient and was surprised and delighted at his improvement. "Why,at this rate we'll have you up and around by this time day afterto-morrow," he cried. "What's that?" as the stoker whispered somethingin his ear. "Why, yes, I guess he will come. I'll give him your message,anyway, and see what he says."

  Then with a cheerful nod he left his patient to the enjoyment of awell-cooked, appetizing meal.

  Half an hour later Bert, clad once more in dry, snug clothes, made hisway hurriedly below to the stokers' cabin. He had declined his friends'offer to accompany him, for his instinct told him that the stoker wouldprefer to see him alone.

  As he turned the knob of the door the stoker looked around inquiringly.Bert went forward quickly.

  "I am Bert Wilson," he said. "The doctor gave me your message and I cameas soon as I could get a bite to eat."

  "It was very good of you to come, sir," the man replied, nervouslyfumbling with a glass on the table at his elbow. "You see, I wanted tothank you and tell you how sorry I am that I gave you--any--troublein the water." His voice was scarcely above a whisper. "I can jistrecollect, now, that I tried to--kill--you. Can you ever--forgive----"

  "Forgive," Bert interrupted. "Why, I have nothing to forgive, but if Ihad I would have forgiven and forgotten long ago." Then he put out hishand impulsively and said in that frank, open way that was peculiarlyhis own, "You and I have gone through great danger together and havemanaged to pull through with nothing but a few scratches to tell thestory. Shall we shake hands on it?"

  * * * * *

  "Well, you sure did get everything that was coming to you, Bert," Tomsaid, as they were getting ready for bed that night. "You asked forexcitement----"

  "And I got it," Bert finished, as he slipped in between the cool,inviting sheets. "Good-night, fellows, I'm off."