The Boy Aviators' Flight for a Fortune

The three worthies disappeared below after Duval had carefully replaced the black pearls in their bag. It was some hours later when they came up again and the ship was passing the Port Ead’s light.

“We’re safe now,” exclaimed Duval in a low tone; “even if they do discover the trick we’ve put up on em, they could never catch us now. In another two hours we’ll be out on the gulf and by to-morrow we’ll be out of reach of any one in Yankeeland.”

“Hulloo, what’s up astern?” asked Zeb suddenly. “What are they all pointing at?”

“Pointing at? What do you mean?” demanded Duval, suspicious as are most guilty consciences of anything unusual.

“Something in the sky. Hark! They are shouting!”

“Something in the sky!”

Duval’s face went white. His knees shook. By a flash of guilty intuition he had guessed what that something was, even if the next minute a shout had not split the air.

“An aëroplane! It’s an aëroplane!”

Duval’s knees quivered under him. He trembled like a man with the palsy. Old Daniels came up to him hastily.

“Duval, they’ve sighted one of them airyoplanes – you don’t think – ”

“No, I don’t think. I know,” choked out Duval, “they are after us. Hark!”

From the distance came the sound of shots high up in the air. In reply to the signal – for such it was – the Buenos Aires’ whistle emitted three long, mournful toots. Her engines began to slow down. As Duval felt the steamer’s speed check he dashed below to his cabin. As for Daniels, he stood rooted to the spot, his lips moving, but no speech coming from them. Zeb was nowhere to be seen.

Up on the Buenos Aires’ lofty flying bridge her officers, in the meantime, had been almost equally excited. They had seen the aëroplane some time before; but as nowadays such craft are a fairly common sight, they had not paid overmuch attention to it. It was not till the unusual size of the craft was revealed that they scrutinized it closely.

Then, as the big winged man-bird swung above the steamer’s masts, had come the quick six pistol shots. An imperative signal, rightly interpreted “Stop!”

The whistle had replied and the vessel’s way been checked as the jangling signals sounded in the engine-room, and “Slow down” flashed up on the telegraph.

“What do you want?” hailed the captain through a megaphone, as the Sea Eagle– for of course our readers have guessed the identity of the craft of the air – swung above him.

“We want to board you with a United States warrant!” came the startling reply from midair.

“A warrant! For some of my passengers?”

“Yes; for three men whom we have reason to believe booked passage as Daniel Maine and son and another one who calls himself Francis Le Blanc.”

“I have three such men on board and recognize the authority of the United States. How will you board me?”

“We’ll come alongside.”

The captain looked as if he didn’t understand how this was going to be done, but gave orders to stop the ship, drop anchor and lower the gangway. This was done, and the Sea Eagle dropped to the water alongside with perfect precision. In the meantime, the wildest excitement reigned on board. Rumors flew thick and fast as to the errand of the men from the air.

Lest it should be wondered how Dr. Perkins and his companions knew the names under which the three rascals had sailed, we had better clear this matter up. Before embarking in the Sea Eagle in pursuit of the Buenos Aires, a passenger list had been obtained from the offices of the steamship company. It will be recalled that Francis Le Blanc was the alias, or false name, which Duval had used when in the employ of Mr. Sterrett on the yacht Wanderer. This gave them a clew, and when they came across the names Daniel Maine and son, booked for an adjoining cabin, there remained small doubt that those names concealed the two Daniels.

The Sea Eagle was soon made fast, and Marshal Howell, followed by Dr. Perkins and the two Boy Aviators, sprang up the gangway. The others they had been compelled to leave behind, as, with the three prisoners to carry back, the Sea Eagle would have been overcrowded.

As they reached the top of the gangway Captain Stow and his officers advanced to meet them.

“To what am I indebted for the honor of this visit?” asked the seaman.

The marshal showed his authority and his warrant.

“We don’t wish to detain you longer than necessary, captain,” he said, “so will you have us shown to their cabins?”

The captain himself led the way below, and conducted them down a corridor to the stern of the ship. As they reached the end of the passage a door was thrust suddenly open and a bullet whizzed past Frank’s head. At the same instant Zeb’s figure appeared in the doorway.

But before he could fire another shot the marshal had wrested the pistol from him and burst into the cabin. Frank was close behind him. At a port hole was Duval; he had something in his hand and was just about to hurl it out of the port hole, when Frank, in one bound, was at his side and had his arm captive. With a snarl like a wounded wild beast Duval turned on him, whipping out a knife as he did so. But before any harm could be done, Dr. Perkins seized and disarmed him.

It was speedily found that the bag which Frank had saved was the one containing the black pearls which Duval, in his extremity, had determined to throw away rather than let any one else gain their possession. The Marshal slipped the handcuffs on Zeb and Duval, who submitted sullenly to arrest. It was not till then that their thoughts turned to the elder Daniels. He was not in his cabin, and search of the ship failed to reveal him. The mystery was soon to be explained, however.

A boat with a colored oarsman had been lying alongside the steamer waiting to take off the pilot. In the confusion old Daniels had opened the bag of gold dust, selected a packet, and, dropping into the boat, told the negro to row him ashore to secure help for the officers. The negro naturally supposed that he was acting under proper instructions, and put the old fisherman ashore. He was never heard of again.

Zeb and Duval sullenly refused to utter a word, but ultimately, after their return to New Orleans, Frank had an interview with Duval in his prison cell, in which he made a clean breast of everything. From Bayhaven they had hastened south by fast trains, stopping on the way to buy diving dress. The Acadian whom the boys had encountered in the swamps had guided them to the scene of the wreck, receiving one black pearl as his reward.

Of the voyage back from the Buenos Aires with the two prisoners not much can be said. It was made at a good rate of speed, and both Duval and Zeb were docile. Indeed, there was no use in their being otherwise. On account of his youth and the pleadings of Dr. Perkins and the boys, Zeb got a light sentence in a reformatory institution, and it is hoped that he will prove a far better character when he gets out. Duval was more severely dealt with, but even he got off more lightly than he deserved, thanks to the clemency of the people he had wronged.

And so ends the story of the Boy Aviators’ Flight for a Fortune in the most wonderful aëroplane constructed up to date. But no doubt, in the rapid march of events, even the Sea Eagle will soon be surpassed. Already, while this book goes to press, plans are being made by no less than four separate aviators to dare the terrors of a transatlantic passage. Whether they will succeed or not is in the lap of the future, but the author is certain that some day flights across “The Pond” at seventy or eighty miles an hour will be so common as to attract but small attention.

Some of my readers doubtless wish to know how Ben disposed of his fortune. Well, part of it he wisely invested in real estate, and the rest he is thinking of putting into the company Dr. Perkins has formed to manufacture Sea Eagles. Mr. Sterrett is a member of the company, and so are the Boy Aviators. Naturally Ben’s keen wish to have them share some of his good fortune was refused, for, as we know, the Boy Aviators’ adventures in the past had netted them a good share of this world’s goods. Billy Barnes is publicity agent at a good salary for the Sea Eagle Company, Ltd., and the work just suits his tastes. As for Pudge, he is as hard a worker as anybody at the plant on Brig Island, learning the business “from the bottom up.”

And so, wishing them well in their future undertakings, we will here take leave for the present of our friends, until we hear of them again in the next volume, entitled “The Boy Aviators with the Air Raiders.”

THE END