The Boy Aviators' Flight for a Fortune

A minute later Frank was in the water pushing the balk of timber before him and heading, as nearly as he knew how, for the spot where the hulk and the motor boat had been moored.

It was more than half an hour before Billy and Pudge saw him again. Then he reappeared, chilled through and shivering in every limb. His first words almost deprived his companions of breath.

“They’re gone!” he exclaimed.

“What!” the exclamation came from both Billy and Pudge simultaneously. They guessed by some sort of intuition what Frank referred to.

“Yes, they’re both gone,” repeated Frank; “the Betsy Jane and the motor boat.”

“Are you sure you’re not mistaken, Frank?” inquired Billy, unwilling to believe the extent of the catastrophe that had overtaken them.

“I’m as sure that they’re gone as I am that I am standing here,” was the reply. “I cruised about on my log for quite a radius, and couldn’t discover a sign of them. I found the motor boat’s buoy, though. She had been untied by some one.”

“But the Betsy Jane? Schooners and succotash! The Betsy Jane!” broke in Pudge.

“Gone, too,” Frank’s voice broke, “but I wouldn’t care about either if I only knew what had become of Harry.”

“Come on up to the hut and we’ll have some hot coffee and talk it over,” said Billy, who saw that Frank, besides being almost numb with cold, was half crazy at the mystery of Harry’s fate.

Frank suffered himself to be led up to the hut and the rest of the night was passed in speculation as to the fate of the missing boy. All three of the lads were pretty sure that the two Daniels had had a hand in the night’s work somehow, but they were far from guessing what had actually occurred.

Soon after daylight the wireless began working. Dr. Perkins notified them from Portland that he expected to arrive that afternoon at Motthaven, and wished them to meet him. Frank found some relief for his wrought-up feelings in informing the inventor of what had occurred.

“Will charter fast boat and be there with all speed,” came the reply through the air; “make the best of it till I come. Am confident that everything will come out all right.”

And with this message the “marooned” trio on the island had to be content. The day was passed in making a careful survey of the island to discover, if possible, some trace of the marauders. But none was to be found. The tide had even obliterated any footmarks they might have left in the damp sand. Thoroughly disheartened and miserable, the boys ate a scanty lunch and then sat down to await the arrival of Dr. Perkins.

It was sundown when a fast motor boat appeared to the southward, cleaving the water at a rapid rate. A quarter of an hour later Dr. Perkins was hearing from the boys’ own lips the strange story of their adventures of the past day and night.

CHAPTER VIII. – THE DERELICT DESTROYER

Assuredly it was a surprising sight that greeted the eyes of Harry and Ben Stubbs as the latter pulled the skiff around the point. Not half a mile away lay a dull, gray-colored craft like a gunboat, with the Stars and Stripes floating from her stern. From her bow a puff of smoke was drifting away, showing that she had been the craft that had fired the shot which had aroused them.

But what could she be doing? Above all, why had the shot been fired? Harry’s eyes furnished the answer as he saw that part of the rail of the schooner was missing, a jagged break showing where it had been torn away.

“Great guns!” shouted Ben, “they’ve bin firin’ at your old hulk.”

As he spoke there was a flash from the side of the lead-colored craft, and a projectile shrieked by above the pair in the boat, causing them to duck involuntarily.

“Cracky!” shouted Harry, “I’ve got it. That craft is a derelict destroyer. One of Uncle Sam’s craft whose duty it is to put obstructions to navigation out of the way.”

“You’re right, boy, and they are bent on sending that there Betsy Jane to the bottom.”

“We must stop them,” ejaculated Harry excitedly; “that schooner is wanted by Mr. Perkins to use in his experiments. That’s why he had the runway built. We must signal them somehow.”

“No need to, lad. See, here comes a boat.”

Sure enough, as he spoke a cutter was lowered from the warlike-looking vessel’s side, and before long, impelled by muscular arms, it was flying over the water toward the hulk.

“Pull round and meet them,” suggested Harry.

But Ben was already doing that very thing. So fast did the government cutter approach that just as the skiff was rounding the stern of the ill-used Betsy Jane, the former craft, with a dapper young officer in the stern, was drawing alongside the hulk.

The astonishment of the officer was great when Harry explained matters.

“It’s lucky that I decided to make an examination into the effect of the shots already fired before I finished her up,” he laughed. “I am in command of the United States derelict destroyer Seneca, yonder. We’ve just despatched an old hulk some miles out at sea, and when, on our return down the coast, we saw your old hull, we thought it was a good chance to try out a new kind of gun we have to despatch these menaces to navigation.”

“I’m glad we heard your first shot in time to explain matters,” said Harry; “this craft belongs to Dr. Perkins, the aëronautical inventor, who wishes to use it in some experiments. As I told you, I unfortunately drifted to sea in it when some rascals cut the rope.”

The officer sympathized to the full with Harry and offered to give him a spark plug for his motor boat from a supply carried for a similar craft on board the Seneca.

“But,” he continued, “I’ve got a better plan than that. I’m bound down the coast. I know Dr. Perkins slightly and should be glad to do him a service. Why not accept a tow from me? I’ll get you to Brig Island by nightfall anyway, and that’s much quicker than you could tow this hulk with the motor boat, even if you could get her off the sand.”

Harry gladly agreed to this arrangement. A line was made fast to the Betsy Jane and affixed to the towing bitts of the derelict destroyer. The tide by this time had turned, and after a short struggle the Betsy Jane once more floated in deep water.

“I don’t know if this is exactly regular,” remarked the young officer in command, when the hulk lay bobbing astern of the trim and trig government craft, “but I guess it’s all in the line of duty. So come on board.”

Harry and Ben were in the skiff alongside the Betsy Jane when this offer was made.

Without hesitation Harry stepped upon the companionway. He turned to Ben, and was about to bid that veteran adventurer good-by, with a promise to visit Barren Island in the near future, when, to his astonishment, Ben calmly hitched his skiff alongside the motor boat and stepped up after him.

“I reckon I’ve had about enough of that island,” he said; “I’m a-goin’ to ship with you on this cruise if it’s agreeable.”

“Agreeable?” laughed Harry. “Why, Ben, you are as welcome as the flowers in May. But haven’t you left a lot of stuff behind on the island?”

“Nothing that ’ull hurt. The only other suit I own you’ve got on, and funny enough you look in it, too,” and Ben chuckled; “as for the hut and what grub’s left, and so forth, any one’s welcome to ’em that takes a fancy to ’em. I’ve got a bit left in the bank yet, and I guess I can afford a new outfit anyway, so heave ahead, Mister Skipper, as soon as you’re ready.”

The officer, who had watched this scene in some astonishment, broke into a laugh.

“I see you are an individual of impulse,” he said, “but if you want to go along it will spare my sending a man on board the schooner to help our young friend.”

“Waal, then, it’s an arrangement that’s agreeable to all parties,” rejoined Ben, lighting his pipe; “so that’s all settled.”

A short time later the Seneca moved ahead, at first slowly, and then faster, while the wandering Betsy Jane followed docilely after her through the now calm sea. True to Lieut. MacAllister’s promise, they were off Brig Island by sunset. As deep water extended close inshore, the derelict destroyer was enabled to tow the hulk almost up to the boys’ “front door,” so to speak, and from the beach a little group set up a loud cheer as the Betsy Jane’s spare anchor rattled down and she swung at rest.

The presence of the little party to witness the arrival is due to the fact that Lieut. MacAllister, who knew from Harry that there was a wireless on the island, had kept his operator busy sending “bulletins” to Dr. Perkins all the way down the coast; and so, when first the Seneca’s smoke streaked the horizon, all was ready to give the returned wanderer a big reception.

The Betsy Jane, having been safely anchored, the Seneca, with three toots of her siren, departed on her way, while Harry and Ben lost no time in tumbling into the skiff and rowing ashore. To describe what took place then would take up a lot of space without giving any clearer picture of the reunion that each of you can imagine for himself.

Readers of the former volumes of this series know how highly the Boy Aviators regarded Ben Stubbs, and after a short conversation with him Dr. Perkins came to share their good opinion of the rugged old adventurer. It would be impossible to tell with accuracy how many times that night Harry’s story was told, and how many times Frank and the others repeated the tale of their anxious hours while he was missing. The first wireless flash from the Seneca, Frank described as “the best thing that ever happened.” This opinion the others heartily echoed.

“Well,” said Dr. Perkins, as at last they made ready to “turn in,” “all is well that ends well, and to-morrow I have an announcement of some interest to make to you lads. From my inspection of the work done so far on the ‘Sea Eagle,’ as I have decided to christen her, I think that within a few days we can take her on her trial trip.”

“Anchors and aëroplanes!” shouted Pudge, in high glee, “I book passage right now!”

“And I – and I – and I,” came from the others, while Ben Stubbs inquired plaintively if there would be room for him.

CHAPTER IX. – THE FLIGHT OF THE “SEA EAGLE.”