CHAPTER X. – “C. Q. D.!”
But they were compelled to curb their impatience till that evening after supper, for the doctor set every one busily to work “stabling” the Sea Eagle and attending to the engines after the hard test they had undergone. Every part was carefully gone over, and it was found that despite the strain of the novel craft’s first try-out, nothing save a few minor adjustments were required.
“Now, dad,” said Pudge, after the dishes had been washed and Ben had his pipe going, and the others were perched on the edge of the lower bunks, like so many birds on a rail, “now, then, dad, we are ready to hear your plans for that cruise.”
Dr. Perkins smiled.
“I’m afraid, my boy,” he said, “that you are in for a disappointment. While I thoroughly believe the Sea Eagle is capable of conveying our whole party through almost anything, I am unwilling to place too great a burden on her at her first long-distance trial.”
Pudge’s face lengthened.
“Oceans and octopuses!” he groaned, “I s’pose I’m to be left behind, as usual.”
“I’m afraid it will be necessary,” was the reply; “you see, there will only be room under my present plan for experienced navigators. But not to keep you in suspense any longer, my present plan is to cruise down the coast to Florida, round that peninsula, and then fly up to New Orleans, and then possibly I might test out the Sea Eagle still further on a flight up the Mississippi.”
“Wow! And we’re to miss all that?”
“Not all of it, Pudge,” smiled the doctor. “I was planning to send you and Billy on ahead to meet us at New Orleans and make arrangements for our arrival there.”
“Cookies and catamounts! That’s not so bad. I’ve always longed to see New Orleans. But, then, would you take us with you up the Mississippi?”
“If we go – yes.”
“Look a-here,” struck in Ben’s bass voice at this point, “I don’t want to butt in, or nothing like that, doctor; but this here is a cruise that just suits me. Would you have any objection if I went along with ther boys ter New Orleans?”
“Why, I hadn’t thought of it,” confessed Dr. Perkins.
“You see, I’ve got some partic’lar business down that way,” said Ben, with a portentous wink at Harry; “ain’t I, Harry?”
The boy addressed instantly guessed that Ben referred to the supposed treasure trove lying at the bottom of the Black Bayou. Now, in the rush of events following Harry’s return from his strange cruise on the Betsy Jane, he had quite forgotten about Raoul Duval’s map. But now it flashed back on him, and the recollection caused him to flush with excitement.
Dr. Perkins looked puzzled, while a glance of intelligence shot between the grizzled old adventurer and the boy.
“Have I got your leave to tell about the sunken steamer?” inquired Harry.
“Sure. Heave ahead, my boy,” was the hearty answer; “I was never much of a hand at spinning a yarn.”
“Pirates and petticoats! What’s all this about a yarn and a sunken ship?” demanded Pudge.
“Sounds like some fresh adventure. Anything like the Buena Ventura cruise?” asked Billy Barnes, referring, of course, to their experiences in the Sargasso Sea.
“I hope not,” laughed Harry. “No, this is a much tamer affair,” he continued. “Ben, here, thinks that he knows of a craft sunk in a bayou off the Mississippi, on board of which is a small fortune in gold dust and black pearls.”
“Gold dust and black pearls!” cried Billy Barnes. “Wow! that sounds like a regular story.”
“Suppose we let Harry heave ahead, as Ben calls it, and tell us what all this is about,” suggested Frank quietly. But his eyes were shining. He knew that what Harry was about to communicate must be of deep interest from the manner in which the boy had spoken.
“Yes, let us hear the story,” said Dr. Perkins; “since we plan to be down in that region, anything of interest to be investigated will add to the pleasure of the trip.”
Thereupon Harry, without further delay, plunged into the narrative as Ben had related it to him. He was interrupted from time to time by excited exclamations, but at last he finished his narration and then, turning to Dr. Perkins, he said:
“What do you think of it, sir?”
“Aye, aye,” growled out Ben, “supposin’ the yarn is true, have I got a legal right to the stuff?”
“Undoubtedly, if you have papers assigning the claim to you,” said Mr. Perkins, after a moment’s thought.
“Oh, I’ve got them fast enough. I was goin’ to chuck ’em away, but I thought better of it. Glad I did now, but you see I never thought I’d have a chance to go down there.”
Ben reached into his pocket and drew out a battered, brown leather wallet. From it he produced Raoul Duval’s promise to deed him his (Duval’s) interest in the supposed treasure chest, providing the loan Ben had made the mining man’s son was not repaid. He handed the document to Dr. Perkins, who perused it with knitted brows.
“This certainly appears to give you a legal claim to whatever may be of value in the late Duval’s effects,” he said.
“Then you think it is worth looking into?”
“By all means. While the story sounds fanciful to a degree, it is not much more so than plenty of recorded cases. At all events, no harm can be done by trying to locate the wreck, and it may be the means of rehabilitating your fortunes.”
“I dunno what that means,” grinned Ben, “but if it signifies that I’m to get some money out of the cruise, I’m willing right now to split it up any way it suits you.”
“We can talk about that later,” said Dr. Perkins, with a smile at the old man’s enthusiasm; “now would you mind letting me have a look at that map to which Harry has referred?”
“Here it be,” grunted Ben, once more diving into the wallet and producing the map that Harry had looked over on Barren Island.
“At any rate, this looks definite enough,” declared Dr. Perkins after a careful examination of it. “Of course, as this Duval appears to be a thorough rascal, he may have ‘cooked this up,’ as the saying goes, in order to induce you to make him a loan. But certain things about it make me believe that it may be genuine. I recall reading some time ago a newspaper account of mysteries of the Mississippi, and among them was an account of the serious disaster to the Belle of New Orleans, so, at any rate, that part of the story is authentic enough.”
“Meanin’ it’s true,” murmured Ben. “Waal, if you’ll help me we’ll soon find out the truth of it, or otherwise.”
“As I said,” rejoined Dr. Perkins, “I had intended to cruise up the Mississippi from New Orleans. What you have told us furnishes us with a distinct object in making the trip, and,” he added with a smile, “I suppose the spice of adventure about it does not displease the lads here.”
Frank was about to reply when, from the wireless table, there came a queer buzzing sound from an instrument which the boy had connected with his detector.
“Hullo! some one is sending out a message,” he exclaimed, “and our wires have caught it. Wonder what it can be.”
The boy rose and went over to the wireless table. Seating himself on the stool in front of the instruments he adjusted the “phones” and began putting his variable condenser in tune to catch whatever message was pulsing through the air.
“What’s coming?” demanded Harry, as the instruments began to crackle and snap.
“Don’t know yet,” spoke Frank, again changing the capacity of the condenser; “looks as if – ”
He ceased speaking suddenly. Sliding his hand across the table he made an adjustment to catch longer sound waves. Instantly a hail of aërial dots and dashes came pattering against his ear drums, like rain on a window pane.
With startling suddenness Frank sensed the meaning of the storm of desperate flashes.
“C-Q-D! C-Q-D! C-Q-D!”
“Some one out at sea is calling us in distress!” he cried loudly. The others, brim full of excitement, rose and crowded about him. But Frank waved them back.
“No questions yet, please!” he said sharply, and then bent all his faculties to catching the voice out of the black night.
CHAPTER XI. – “GOOD LUCK!”
The silence in the hut was absolute as Frank bent low over his instruments. Even Pudge was subdued for once. There is something thrillingly dramatic to the most phlegmatic of temperaments in the idea of a wireless call for aid. Across unknown miles the message comes winging through the air – an appeal out of space.
Of course, the others could not catch what was coming, for the whisper of the wireless waves sounds faint and shadowy even to one with the “phones” clasped to his ears. But Frank’s manner showed plainly enough that, whatever was winging its way to his organs of hearing, was exciting to the last degree.
Suddenly the boy switched to his transmitting apparatus. With his helix he began attuning the length of his sparks, while the snake-like blue flame hissed and crackled across the “high-efficiency” spark gap. It looked like a living thing of lambent fire, as it writhed and screamed in response to the pressure on the key.
“What’s wanted? Where are you?”
This was the message that went speeding out on the air waves from the aërials above the hut.
“This is the yacht Wanderer, from New York to Rocktown. We have struck a derelict and are leaking badly. Who are you?”
“A station on Brig Island, about four miles at sea from Motthaven. Where are you?”
The latter question was unanswered for the time being. Instead came another query:
“Have you any means by which you can get to our assistance? We are in dire peril.”
“We will try to aid you. But what is your position?”
“Wait. I’ll look at the chart.”
There came a pause, during which Frank rapidly detailed what he had heard to the eager group of listeners. But in the midst of it the unknown sender broke in once more.
“We are about twenty miles to the southeast of you, on an almost straight course. Can keep afloat only a few hours longer. Can you get tug from the mainland?”
“Impossible,” flashed back Frank, “but will do what we can. Are you at anchor?”
“No, but the drift is very little. We are off soundings. Can you come to our aid?”
Frank’s fingers pressed down on the key firmly. Rapidly he sent this message pulsating:
“How many on board?”
“Three. Owner, a friend and a hand.”
“All right. Standby!”
“Good-by, and hurry,” came out of the night, and then – silence.
Frank disconnected his instruments and turned to the others. Rapidly he detailed the impending tragedy out there in the darkness.
“Can’t we get to them in the motor boat?” demanded Harry breathlessly.
Frank shook his head.
“Not in the time we have. They can’t keep afloat much longer, recollect. What can be done? Is there no way we can help them?”
“Yes, there is.”
The words came quietly but in a decided tone from Dr. Perkins. Frank was the first to guess the import of the speech.
“The Sea Eagle!” he exclaimed excitedly.
Dr. Perkins nodded.
“Yes. Here is our chance to test her in the service of humanity. She is ready for flight this instant.”
“But in the darkness? How can we pick up this yacht?”
“By the searchlight. Most likely the yacht has rockets. When she sees our searchlight she will send some up. That will give us her bearings. The general location of the craft we know.”
“Are we all to go?” demanded Pudge.
“Hardly,” rejoined his father, slipping into an overcoat, for the night was somewhat chilly, though the air was calm. “Frank and Harry, I need you two. You others await our return. Have hot coffee and food ready, as the survivors may be in need of nourishment.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” responded Ben; “and now, sir, if I may give a bit of advice, lose no time in getting away. I’ve been in some sea disasters myself, and sometimes every second counts.”
“You’re right, Stubbs,” ejaculated Dr. Perkins. “Boys, get the Sea Eagle ready. I’ll bring along the searchlight.”
While Frank and Harry hastened on their errand, Dr. Perkins got the searchlight out of its locker. It was a small but powerful one, constructed so as to fit into a socket on the Sea Eagle’s “bow.” Its light was supplied from a small dynamo connected with the engine of the sea-and-air craft. By the time the doctor was ready the Sea Eagle had been wheeled out of her shed, and Frank gave a sharp hail.
“All ready, doctor!”
“With you in a moment, my boy,” was the response, as the inventor hastened out into the darkness.
The outlines of the Sea Eagle loomed up gray and ghostly in the gloom. Only a tiny speck of light showed in her bow by the steering wheel, where a minute electric bulb shed light on the compass. This light was obtained from a storage battery of peculiarly light construction, connected with the dynamo before mentioned.
The boys had clambered on board as soon as the airship had been wheeled out of its shed. They extended their hands to Dr. Perkins and helped him on board. The searchlight was put in place and its wires connected to the storage battery. A snap of a switch and a sharp pencil of light cut the night. The appliance worked to perfection.
“Now, then,” said the doctor, as he took the wheel, “the less time we lose, the better. Frank, you had better apply the buoyancy apparatus, as we must make an abrupt rise to clear the trees.”
“Why not launch from the runway?” inquired Frank; “wouldn’t that be quicker?”
“That’s right. I think it would. Head the prow round for the rails.”
Willing hands pushed the Sea Eagle around, for on her ball-bearing supporting wheels she handled very easily, despite her great weight.
Presently the craft was poised at the summit of the incline, ready for her rush downward.
“Give her power!” cried the doctor.
Frank seized the self-starting lever, and gave it a twirl. A pressure of his forefinger on the button followed, and almost simultaneously the motor began to thunder and roar.
“Right here!” cried Frank.
“All right. Hold tight. I’m going to apply full power.”
Dr. Perkins jerked back the clutch lever as he spoke. There was a jarring shock, and then a downward rush through the night, the searchlight cutting a blazing white path through the blackness. Down, down they raced at terrific speed. Suddenly the jarring movement ceased. The Sea Eagle appeared to glide upward as if drawn skyward by invisible ropes. As the craft left the rails, and began soaring to the stars that looked quietly down on the exciting scene, a sound was borne upward to the aërial voyagers.
“Good-by.”
And then an instant later in Ben’s stentorian tones:
“So long, mates! Go-o-o-d luck!”
CHAPTER XII. – THROUGH THE NIGHT
Up and out into the night winged the great sea-and-air craft, the powerful motors working without a skip, and the propellers beating the air with a noise like the drone of a mastadonic bee – or more appropriately, night beetle. Above shone the stars, steady points of brightness in the dark blue canopy of heavens; below stretched the silent, empty sea, heaving gently. The air was calm and still, and the Sea Eagle cleaved her way through it powerfully. Dr. Perkins set the course at due southeast, and kept a careful eye on the compass.
“What speed are we making?” shouted Frank presently.
The inventor glanced at the aërial speed meter, a device of his own invention.
“Close to fifty,” he shouted back, for, owing to the roar of the engines and propellers, it was necessary to raise the voice in speaking to any one at a distance.
“Then we should be in the vicinity in half an hour?”
“Yes; that is unless – ”
But Dr. Perkins broke off abruptly. The Sea Eagle had now attained a height of some five hundred feet, at which altitude he intended to keep the craft till they reached the vicinity of the disabled yacht.
The cause of the sudden breaking off of his shouted remarks was this: Without the slightest warning the Sea Eagle gave a sickening dip downward, and rushed toward the sea; or rather, to those in the falling ship, it seemed as if the sea was racing up devouringly toward them.
“Gracious, what’s happened?” shouted Harry.
But Frank was too busy with the engine to answer just then.
“Power! Give me lots of power!” yelled Dr. Perkins.
But although Frank instantly opened up the motor to its full capacity of two thousand revolutions a minute, the downward rush still continued.
“The sea! We’ll be plunged into the sea!” cried Harry, in alarm, gripping a side support.
Indeed there appeared to be good cause for his apprehension, for the Sea Eagle was falling like a stone flung into space. All this, of course, took place in far less time than it takes to describe or to read it. In fact, hardly had Harry shouted his fears before the Sea Eagle’s “hull” – as we must call the hydroplane part of the craft – struck the water, and a huge cloud of spray flew high on either side.
But instead of diving, the Sea Eagle shot forward over the waves, gliding over their tops for some time before Frank shut off the motor. Even then such was the “shooting” velocity gained, that the Sea Eagle still continued to scoot along until the young engineer, in response to Dr. Perkins’ instructions, reversed her propellers, and thus brought the craft to a speedy standstill.
“What on earth happened?” demanded Frank anxiously, as the Sea Eagle lay still, bobbing up and down on the gentle swell.
“We struck an air pocket. An empty hole in space where there was no ether to support us,” explained Dr. Perkins.
“Gracious; I thought we were goners,” cried Harry, still a little shaky over the fearful sensation of the fall.
“Had the Sea Eagle been of different construction we should have dived as straight to the bottom as a loon,” said the inventor, “but the spoonlike construction of the bow allowed me to handle her so that, instead of the impulse of the fall being downward, it was diverted into a forward movement along the surface.”
“Shall we go up again?” asked Frank, after a hasty examination had been made to ascertain if anything had parted or snapped under the strain of the suddenly arrested tumble through the air pocket.
“Yes. We had better lose as little time as possible,” was the rejoinder. “If you are ready, start the engine up, and we will try a flight from the surface of the water.”
“You want full power?” asked Frank.
“Yes; but start up gently at first, gradually increasing to top velocity. I think, however, that we shall leave the water at about 1,500 revolutions a minute.”
The next minute the roar of the newly started engine prevented further conversation. In order to develop every ounce of power of which the motor was capable Frank had opened the muffler cut-out, and the uproar was terrific. Spurts of greenish flame spouted from the exhausts, and the acrid smell of burning oil and gasolene filled the air. To any one less accustomed than the Boy Aviators to the uproar of aërial motors, the noise would have been alarming to say the least. They, however, were too much used to such scenes to pay any attention to it.
Faster and faster the Sea Eagle sped over the waves, till her keel barely touched the tips of the swells. Then suddenly the jerky motion ceased, and the craft, buoyed by its wings, began to soar upward in a steadily increasing gradient. Before ten minutes had passed they were once more on an even keel at a five-hundred-feet altitude, and bearing steadily for the southwest.
Frank looked at his watch.
“We ought to be getting pretty close to that yacht by now,” he remarked to Harry, who had seated himself at his side, and was assisting in attending to the lubrication and watching of the motor.
“I’ll keep a sharp lookout,” rejoined Harry; “they surely ought to hear the noise of our motor and send up a rocket or wave lights, or something, if they are in the vicinity.
“That’s just what I think. Keep your eyes open while I watch the engine.”
Harry peered out into the night, but as far as he could see nothing appeared but the reflection of the stars in the water to relieve its blackness.
“I can’t see anything yet,” he said, after a while.
“Just keep on looking,” rejoined Frank; “there’s a chance that they may have drifted from the position they gave us.”
“Well, in any case it would have been impossible for us to fly direct to the spot,” rejoined Harry; “this thing is a good deal like looking for a needle in a haystack, to my way of thinking.”
“I’m not so sure of that. If they are anywhere within five or six miles they must hear the beat of our motor.”
“Wonder why Dr. Perkins doesn’t switch on the searchlight. Hullo, there it goes now.”
As Harry spoke, a fan-shaped ray of brilliant white light cut the night in front of the Sea Eagle, like a radiant sword. Hither and thither it swept over the dark sea; but it revealed nothing. All at once Dr. Perkins shut the searchlight off.
“If they have seen it they will reply in some way,” he shouted in explanation to the boys. “Keep a bright lookout for an answer. I’ll keep the Sea Eagle swinging in circles. We have been doing thirty miles an hour, and even allowing for the delay when we struck the air pocket we ought to be in the disabled yacht’s vicinity by this time.”
As the searchlight was extinguished Harry peered out into the darkness with straining eyes. Suddenly he gave a shout and clutched Frank’s arm.
“What’s that,” he shouted, “that light off there to the south?”
“It’s a lantern,” cried Frank; “somebody’s waving it.”
Dr. Perkins confirmed Frank’s supposition, and the Sea Eagle, on her errand of rescue, was headed for the swinging pin-point of light in the distance.