The Boy Aviators' Flight for a Fortune

“Yes; let us do so at once. I am all ready, are you?”

“Yes; I hurried to get dressed as soon as I heard the noise in the corridor.”

Plumbo was waiting, and as they hastened down the street he explained in his odd rhyming speech just what had happened. He could not describe the men except to say that one had whiskers on his chin. In a part of the country where this is a favorite facial adornment this information was not much of a clew.

It took the alarmed party much less time to reach the wharf than they would have thought was possible. In fact, almost the whole distance was traversed at a run. But when they arrived at the wharf and a lantern, which Dr. Perkins had had the foresight to bring along, had been kindled, they found nothing to inform them as to what had taken place. The doctor had not expected to find Plumbo’s three men there, but he had had an idea that he would find something damaged about the Sea Eagle. But as careful an examination as it was possible to make by lamplight failed to reveal any trace of damage.

Naturally this, instead of helping to clear the mystery, only deepened it. What object could the men have had who had sent Plumbo off on his wild goose chase if it had not been to wreak injury to the Sea Eagle?

“Maybe they were some inventors who wanted to steal your ideas,” suggested Harry, recalling some experiences of their own with unscrupulous aviators.

But Dr. Perkins shook his head.

“Every important feature of the Sea Eagle is fully covered by patents,” he said; “there isn’t a single idea they could appropriate in the short time they could have spent here anyhow.”

Harry had to admit that this was so, but to tell the truth his thoughts were centered more on Frank and on the strange circumstances surrounding his disappearance than they were on the Sea Eagle.

“I’m as certain as that daylight will come again that Frank fits into this mix-up somewhere,” he said, voicing his thoughts, “but the question is where?”

“Well, he’s not here now, that’s certain,” declared Dr. Perkins. “I propose that we should return to the hotel now that we have discovered that no damage has been done. He may meet us there.”

“Let’s search the wharf first,” said Harry, but, naturally, even their painstaking search failed to reveal any trace of Frank’s fate till, all at once, Harry, who was carrying the lantern, came upon his brother’s cap lying where it had fallen in the scuffle among the boxes.

The bit of headgear had been kicked close to the string-piece of the wharf, and a fearful fear that made Harry’s head swim shot into his mind. Could Frank have come down to the wharf, suspecting mischief was on foot, and have either fallen or been thrown into the water?

“Look – look here, sir,” he exclaimed in a shaking voice, as Dr. Perkins asked him what was the matter.

“What is it?” asked the doctor, coming forward. “A clew?”

“Yes; it’s – it’s Frank’s cap, doctor. Pray heaven no harm has befallen him.”

“If it has, swift vengeance is going to overtake somebody,” declared Dr. Perkins, clenching his hands; “where did you find the cap?”

“Close to the string-piece. You – you don’t think he could have fallen over?”

“Nonsense,” declared Dr. Perkins with a confidence he was far from feeling; “we’ll get him back again safe and sound, never fear.”

But Harry’s heart sank as he fingered his brother’s cap.

“I’m trying to think so, too, sir,” he said miserably; “but – but – ”

He paused abruptly, for he could not have gone further without breaking down. Harry had gone through some anxious moments in his life, but never had his heart sunk so low as it did that night on the Bayhaven wharf.

In the meantime, let us see how it was faring with the boy whose disappearance had caused such cruel fears – fears which even the vengeful tempers of Daniels and his son would have been satisfied with. We left Frank gagged and bound on the bottom of the dory, while Zeb and his father were pulling with strong, swift strokes for the open water.

The dory shot swiftly and silently seaward, with Frank completely in the dark as to what was to be his fate. It occurred to him, though, that perhaps they meant to maroon him on some island. This thought did not give him so much anxiety as might have been expected, for he knew that the waters about Bayhaven were fairly populous with boats, and did not suppose that his captors meant to keep him a prisoner any longer time than would be necessary for them to take their departure from that part of the coast before the authorities could be notified.

Imagine, then, his thrill of surprise when the boat suddenly stopped and the barrel, into which some big stones had been thrown to keep it upright in the water, was lowered from the dory. This done, Frank was lifted by main force and placed in it.

A brutal laugh broke from Zeb and his father as they shoved the barrel containing its helpless captive away from the side of the dory. Duval said nothing, but his white teeth showed in a grin in the starlight. Frank, gagged as he was, could not utter a word or move a limb. He could only realize, with dumb agony, the terrible nature of his fate.

Still laughing, the brutal rascals who had conceived the idea of setting him adrift, rowed off at a quick rate, leaving the barrel and its helpless occupant bobbing up and down on the swells of the starlit sea.

CHAPTER XXII. – REUNITED!

Frank’s heart sank as he cast a look about him and perceived the helplessness of his position.

“If I could only get this gag off and shout for help,” he thought, “maybe somebody would hear me.”

But there seemed to be no means of compassing this end, try as he would to think of some way. All at once, as the stars were beginning to fade and a faint flush of gray appeared in the east, he perceived a nail sticking up on the rim of the barrel. This gave him an idea. By bending slightly he would be able to bring the edge of the gag against the sharp pointed bit of metal, and possibly tear it out. At any rate, it was worth trying, and Frank at once proceeded to put his plan into action.

It was a hard job to bend low enough to bring his mouth on a level with the nail, but fortunately the barrel was a large one, and consequently he had not so very far to stoop. By making a desperate effort he succeeded at last in dragging the gag across the nail. In doing this he scratched his chin, but he did not mind that, for the nail caught and held the rag, tearing it out of his mouth as he moved his head.

“Hurray!” breathed Frank, inhaling a great lungful of fresh air. “Now I can at least make a racket, and maybe that will bring some one.”

With all his might he began shouting for help. In the still morning air his voice carried clearly across the water, and to the lad’s huge delight it was not long before he perceived, coming toward him a small fishing boat, which, from the “chugging” sound it made, was evidently furnished with a gasolene engine.

But the question that now agitated the boy was, “Would they see him or hear his voice above the loud noise of the motor?” If they did not, Frank realized that his plight would pass from a serious to a desperate state, for the barrel was, by this time, caught in a current which was rapidly increasing the distance between himself and the shore.

To his intense relief, however, he saw the fishing boat suddenly change her course, and before long she was close enough for him to read the name “Two Sisters” on her broad, bluff bow.

“Waal, by the tarnal!” came a gruff voice, “who and what are yer out here in a ba’rl?”

The speaker, a burly-looking fellow, with a rough but kindly countenance, regarded Frank’s face, which was all that was visible of him, with the most intense astonishment, as well he might. In a long experience off shore, covering all sorts of adventures, Captain Elihu Carney of the Two Sisters had never before beheld a floating barrel with a human head projecting from it.

“It’s a kid – a boy!” shouted one of his mates from the stern of the Two Sisters, where he held the tiller.

“Crack-e-e! so it air. Hey, kid, what yer doin’ out here? Takin’ a cruise, or is this one of them new-fangled health cures?”

“It’s neither, I assure you,” cried Frank; “get me out of this and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“I’ll run alongside and you can climb out.”

“No, I can’t,” returned Frank; “I’m bound hand and foot.”

“What! Say, you be’ant one of them movin’ picter fellers makin’ a fillum be yer?”

Captain Carney’s rugged face held a look full of suspicion. Once not long before his boat had been boarded by a beauteous maiden, apparently fleeing from a band of desperadoes. The gallant captain had fished her out of the dory in which she was rowing from her pursuers and had threatened the apparent rascals with all sorts of dire things. Then to his chagrin a voice had hailed him:

“Hey, you old mossback! You’ve spoiled a grind!”

A “grind” being moving picture language for a film.

“I certainly am not,” returned Frank indignantly; “no moving pictures about this, I can tell you. This is the real thing.”

“Waal, as I don’t see no camera about I reckon it’s all right. Put her head round, Eph, and we’ll pick him up, but ‘once bitten twice shy,’ you know.”

Eph, the helmsman, brought the bow of the Two Sisters round and slowed up the engine. A minute later the fishing boat’s side was scraping the barrel, and Captain Carney’s muscular arms lifted Frank out of his floating prison as if he had been an infant.