Motor Boat Boys Among the Florida Keys; Or, The Struggle for the Leadership

“It’s Nick, this time!” exclaimed Jack, as he jumped to the side of the Tramp to observe what was taking place.

“And say, he’s fast to a whopper, as sure as you live!” cried Herb.

George added his contribution on the heels of the rest.

“That string’s broke away, just as I expected, and there goes Nick and the punkin seed, full tilt for the inlet! By all that’s out, fellows, he must have caught a whale that time, fresh run from the sea. Hi! hold on there, Nick, that’s my boat!”

CHAPTER II.

THE WARNING RATTLE

Jack Stormways was a quick-witted lad. He had proved this fact on numerous occasions in the past, within the memory of his chums.

When anything sudden happened, while others might appear to be spellbound, and waste precious seconds in staring, Jack was very apt to be on the jump, and doing.

So in the present instance, while it might appear more or less comical, seeing the fat boy crouched in that silly little boat belonging to the Wireless, and being dragged through the water at a most rapid rate by the shark he had hooked, there was always an element of danger connected with the affair.

And so Jack, after taking that one look out over the water, sprang forward, and started dragging his anchor aboard with all possible speed. That done, he next applied himself to getting power on the boat, which fortunately could be done with a simple turning over of the engine.

“Hello! are you going to chase the runaway with the Tramp?” cried Herb, who was in the act of climbing over the side into his tender, as though meaning to put out in pursuit himself.

“Yes; jump aboard here, Herb; I might need help!” came the answer; and, accustomed to respecting Jack’s judgment, the one addressed managed to clamber over the side of the Tramp just as that craft started off.

Meanwhile Nick was going at a great rate, not in a direct line for the inlet, but following jerky, eccentric angles, as though the shark hardly knew what to do, on feeling the contact with the point of the big hook at the end of the chain.

Several times the fat boy seemed on the point of creeping forward to get at the rope that was fastened to a cleat in the bow of the dinky. It was George who roared at him on such occasions.

“Keep still, Nick; sit down, can’t you? You’ll upset sure, if you don’t lie flat! Jack’s coming out after you on the jump! Hey, look out there, Jimmy, or you’ll get foul, too! Whew! what a race horse you’ve got fast to, Nick. If only you could land him, Jimmy’s name would be Mud. There he goes again, heading for the bar! Look at the water shooting up on either side of that dandy little boat, would you? And ain’t Nick having the ride of his life, though? There he goes, crawling along up to the bow again. Perhaps he wants to cut loose; small blame to him if he does!”

Everybody was either laughing, or shouting advice to Nick, while this exciting little drama was taking place.

Indeed, Nick himself seemed to be the only one who was not getting some measure of fun out of the affair. His usually red face looked pale, as he managed to reach the squatty bow of the little boat. But when he found that it was dragged down by the action of the fish, as well as his own weight, he drew back again in alarm, for water had come rushing aboard.

Once the motor boat got started, of course it speedily came up with the runaway. Jack had given the wheel into the charge of Herb, who was fully competent to run things. This allowed the other an opportunity to do anything that offered, looking to the rescue of poor frightened Nick.

“Get me out of this, won’t you, Jack? I don’t like it one little bit,” pleaded the fat boy; and then, as some new freak on the part of the shark caused the dinky to lunge sideways in a fearful manner, he shouted in new alarm: “Quit it, you ugly beast! Who wants to nab you now? I pass, I tell you! Let go, and get out of this! Wow! look at him splash the water, Jack, would you?”

“He wanted to take a look at you, that’s all,” Jack called out. “Don’t you think you’d better cut loose, and let your hook go, Nick?”

“I ain’t got any knife; it went overboard the first thing. Besides,” added the occupant of the dinky, who was now once more crouching in the stern, “if I go up there, the water just pours in. I’m sitting in it right now. Jack, can’t you think of some way to make him leave me alone?”

“Perhaps I might,” came the reply, as the skipper of the Tramp dodged back into the hunting cabin of his boat.

He almost immediately reappeared again, holding a rope in his hands. This he made fast to a cleat at the bow; and then, turning to Herb, asked him to bring the motor boat as close to the fleeing dinky as possible.

Leaning down, Jack managed to get a peculiar sort of hitch around the taut line; and a quick jerk seemed to secure his own rope, so that it would not slip. His next action was to take a keen knife, and lay its edge upon the line, close to the spot where it was fastened to the wobbling dinky.

Of course it instantly parted.

“Oh! that’s too bad! Now I’ve lost my tackle!” cried Nick; although he looked vastly relieved at finding that he was no longer fast to the queer sea horse.

Jack paid no further attention to the rescued chum. The fight was now to be all between himself and the shark.

Quickly the line paid out, until there came a heavy jerk, and then once more it became taut.

“Bully! it’s holding fine, Jack!” shouted Herb, who had watched to see the result; for he doubted whether the connection, brought about under such difficulties, would be maintained.

“Now, gradually bring the boat to a full stop,” said Jack, as he again reached back into the cabin, and drew out a rifle. “As soon as you’ve got him halted, begin to back up. That will drag him to the top, you understand; and I’ll have a chance to pot the rascal.”

“That’s right,” declared Herb, who could grasp a thing readily enough, even if slow to originate clever schemes himself.

Just as Jack had said, when the pull was being exerted in the other direction, the struggling monster was presently seen splashing at a tremendous rate, though unable to resist the drawing powers of the ten-horsepower engine.

Jack, crouching there, with one elbow resting on his knee, took as good an aim as the conditions allowed. Then came the sharp report of the gun.

“Whoop! you hit him all right, that time, Jack!” shouted Herb; as there ensued a tremendous floundering at the end of the rope. “But he ain’t knocked out yet. Give him another dose of the same sort!”

Across the water came the cries of the others who were watching this exciting scene. And loudest of all could be heard the voice of Nick, now once more in possession of his nerve.

“Give it to him, Jack! Pound the measly old pirate good and hard! He won’t try that game again in a hurry, I tell you! Hey! Jimmy, you ain’t in it this time, with that little minnow of yours. Hurrah! that’s the time you poked him in the slats, Jack! Trust you for knowing how! I guess he’s a sure goner after that meal of cold lead.”

Jack had fired a second time; and, just as the wildly excited Nick said, he seemed to have met with better success than on the former occasion. The trapped sea monster threshed the water still, but not in the same violent manner as before; and his fury seemed to be rapidly diminishing as the result of his wounds began to be felt.

“Now, stop her, Herb, and start ahead slowly!” Jack called out, hovering over the spot where the line was fast to the cleat.

The boy at the wheel did as he was directed; and as the line became slack Jack took it in, ready to hastily secure the same about another cleat in case the dying shark developed a disposition to make a last mad dash.

But evidently the big fish was “all in,” and when they reached a point nearly over where he lay, there were seen only a few spasmodic movements to his body.

“Let’s drag him near the other boats, so we can pull the old fellow up on that little beach,” Jack suggested.

Ten minutes later, and the six boys were all ashore, laying hold of the rope in order to drag the captured fish out.

“Say, he’s some whopper, let me tell you!” exclaimed George, as, having drawn the shark high and dry, they all hastened to examine the capture.

Nick was dancing with joy, and his eyes fairly beamed as he stood beside the great bulk, putting one foot up on it after the manner in which he had seen noted hunters do, in pictures that told of their exploits when hunting big game.

“Now, how about it, Jimmy?” he demanded, as Jack was cutting the stout hook from the jaw of the monster. “Think this is some punkins, don’t you, now. Three hundred pounds, if it weighs an ounce. Have to hustle some, let me tell you, my boy, if you ever expect to go a notch higher than this.”

“Arrah, come off, would you!” indignantly cried Jimmy. “Sure, ye wouldn’t be claiming that ye took this same ould sea wolf, and inter it in the competition. I do be laving it to Jack here, if that’s fair?”

“But I hooked it, you all saw that?” expostulated Nick.

“I don’t know,” remarked Herb, looking very serious; “I was under the impression that the shark had got you, up to the time Jack came along with his little gun, and tapped him on the head. How about it, Commodore? Can Nick enter any claim to having caught this prize?”

“Wait,” said Jack, smiling; “let me read out the exact words of the wager. I’ve got a copy right here in my note book. Listen now, both of you. It reads like this: ‘Each contestant shall have the liberty of fishing as often as he pleases, and the fish may be taken in any sort of manner; the one stipulation being that the capture shall be undertaken by the contestant, alone and unaided; and that he must have possession of the fish long enough to show the same, and have its weight either estimated or proven.’”

“That settles your goose, me bhoy!” croaked Jimmy, gleefully; “and I’m top notch in the game up to the prisent moment. Do we get busy again, Nick, I say; or are ye satisfied to lit me claim first blood?”