CHAPTER XIX
AN ENCOUNTER WITH A TIGER
For the moment Jack’s heart seemed to stop beating. The tiger looked to be young but powerful, and had evidently broken from his cage in a search for food. He was sniffing his way along the deck, pausing every second or two to gaze around suspiciously.
The young major had one of the pistols with him, and he wondered if that weapon would be powerful enough to slay the beast. He knew that a tiger is usually hunted with a heavy rifle.
The beast continued to slink along in the semi-darkness, and now Jack saw that he was headed for the pilot house, where Ira Small sat nodding over the wheel. Evidently the beast had scented the sailor and was wondering if he could bring down his prey. Having had only a small portion of food, Jack fancied the tiger might take a desperate chance in an endeavor to satisfy the cravings of his stomach.
“Hi, there, Small!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “Look out for yourself!”
“What’s that?” stammered the lanky sailor, straightening up suddenly and turning back from the wheel.
“A tiger! Look out for him! Have you got your shotgun?”
As Jack uttered the words the beast turned, and without waiting further the young major fired two shots in rapid succession. One took the tiger in the hind quarter and the other just grazed his neck. The beast gave a wild leap and then whirled around to locate the unexpected attack.
Jack did not hesitate to retreat, and with all possible speed. Dashing up the sloping deck of the yacht, he gained the rail and there balanced himself against a boat davit. The tiger saw him and crept forward a few yards, crouching low as if meditating an attack.
Bang! It was the report of Small’s shotgun, and the charge hit the deck directly behind the tiger, some of the shot entering his tail and his hind feet. With a wild roar the beast whirled around, and in excitement slid along the deck.
As he slid along the deck Jack fired again, this time hitting the beast squarely in the side. Again came a roar and a savage snarl, the tiger baring his glistening teeth as if willing to chew his attackers to bits.
“Is he hit?” came from Small, hobbling forward.
“Yes; but he isn’t dead,” answered Jack. “Give him the other barrel.”
Again the shotgun blazed forth, and this time the charge entered the tiger’s neck and forequarter. He straightened up, and then, seeing Jack on the rail, made a savage leap in that direction.
As the beast came on, the young major fired once more. It was at close range, and the bullet found its way directly into the open mouth of the tiger. The spring came to a sudden halt and the beast dropped limp half over the rail and within three feet of where the young major was standing. Then the tiger gave a convulsive shudder, dropped to the deck, and slid down the slope against the broken-off end of the mainmast.
“Is he dead?” questioned Small, coming from the pilot house gingerly.
“I think so, but I’m not sure,” answered Jack.
“What’s all the shooting about?” called another voice, and Randy appeared, followed by Fred, the first carrying a shotgun and the other a pistol.
“One of the tigers broke loose and we’ve been shooting at him,” answered Jack. “There he is—over by the mast.”
“A tiger!” exclaimed Randy. He grabbed the shotgun tighter. “Is he dead, or shall I give him another shot?”
“I think he’s done for,” answered Jack. And when they turned the searchlight on the beast, they saw that he had breathed his last.
“Well, this is certainly the dog’s suspenders,” murmured Fred. “Are there any more of those beasts loose?” he went on nervously.
“You know as much about it as I do,” answered the young major. “I suppose the others can get loose just as well as this one did. This is certainly a fine wreck to be on!” he added, with a grim smile.
By this time Andy was hobbling up on deck. All of the crowd, including the lanky sailor, surveyed the tiger carefully, but with great respect.
“He certainly was a beauty,” remarked Jack. “And see what a peculiar color.”
“I think the animals are all very fine,” answered Randy. “Perhaps this isn’t an ordinary menagerie ship. Maybe the people in charge were only picking up unusual specimens.”
“What are you going to do—heave that beast overboard?” asked Andy.
“No sense in doing that,” answered Jack, quickly. “We slaughtered one of the sheep to feed the other beasts; now I guess we can skin this and cut up the carcass for more food; and maybe we can even try a tiger steak—that is, if we can get the stove to working,” he went on.
It must be admitted that all of the crowd were rather nervous for the remainder of the night. While one was at the wheel trying to steer the water-logged yacht, another remained on guard at the entrance to the cabin, so that no wild beast might gain admittance.
When day dawned the first work of the boys and the old sailor was to make sure that the other animals and the snakes were well secured. Then the beasts, reptiles and birds were fed, after which, leaving Andy in charge of the wheel and on the lookout for a possible sail, the others went below, to make an effort to shift some of the cargo so that the water-logged steam yacht might ride on more of an even keel.
But they soon found this task almost impossible. The fire was out under the boilers, so that the engine of the yacht could not be started, and consequently they could not use any of the hoisting machinery.
“And we can’t do much with that cargo by hand,” declared Jack. “We’d only break our backs and maybe get our fingers smashed. It would take a gang of heavy laborers several days to make an impression down here.” So the task of shifting the cargo was abandoned.
They looked over the store of provisions and brought up a number of boxes and crates which contained things they thought they might use.
“With the yacht so terribly listed, it’s out of the question to start a fire under the boilers and get things to running,” declared Jack. “Everything is so out of kilter we might end by blowing the yacht up. I guess about the only thing we can do is to drift along and wait for somebody to pick us up.”
“If there was only some sort of radio on board!” sighed Randy.
“There is a receiving set in the yacht’s office,” answered Fred. “But it doesn’t seem to be in workable condition. Probably it was knocked out of kilter in the collision.”
That day the boys managed to get the fire started in the cook’s galley, and for the first time in a number of days all enjoyed a cooked meal. If a few of the articles of food were underdone or a bit burned, nobody complained. They took their time over the repast, and ate as they had never eaten before.
Strange as it may seem, not a sail of any kind had appeared in sight. And even a trail of smoke that might indicate a distant steamer was missing.
“I reckon we’re out o’ the track o’ most ships,” was the way Ira Small expressed himself.
“If we only had the means to send out a radio call for assistance, it might be worth while to try to get our latitude and longitude,” said Jack. “But that’s of no consequence while we have no radio and no means of sailing the steam yacht in any direction.”
During the afternoon the boys made another inspection of the water-logged steam yacht, which was named the Coryanda. From records on board they learned that the craft was owned by two scientists, Paul and James Ellingham, of Baltimore. The Ellinghams, it seemed, were much interested in the collecting of rare beasts, birds and snakes, and the specimens on the steam yacht had been picked up in various parts of the globe after a tour lasting over two years. Each animal, reptile and bird was carefully catalogued.
“Some valuable cargo, I’ll say,” declared Randy. “Just look here! A white and red parrot put down as worth two hundred dollars! I wouldn’t give ten dollars for the best parrot going.”
“Yes, and look here! One blue-headed snake with a mile-long name put down at two hundred and seventy-five dollars!” cried Fred. “I wouldn’t give that much for a boatload of ’em.”
“Well, they’re probably worth that, and more, to some zoo,” declared Jack. “Just the same, I’d rather not have such things on the Coryanda while I’m aboard.”
The afternoon wore away slowly, and toward night Ira Small announced that another storm was approaching.
“An’ it’s comin’ up fast, too,” he declared.
“What do you think it will do to us, Small?” questioned Randy.
“There’s no tellin’, lad,” answered the lanky sailor. “But when a ship is as water-logged as this here Coryanda is, she’s liable to do most anything. The best we kin do is to fix up that raft of ours as good as we possibly kin and git together all the provisions and water we kin carry. Then, if the worst comes to the worst, we kin leave the yacht.”