Chapter XI: Wrecked!

"It's not a ship, Carl," said Dick.

"Ach, du lieber," wailed Carl, "don'd tell me dot!"

"But it's something just as good, and perhaps better. It's an island."

"Turtle Key!" jubilated Carl, shortsighted as usual and glad only that they were perhaps coming closer to the iron chest. "Hoop-a-la!"

"No," went on Dick, "not Turtle Key. It's another island."

"How you know dot?"

"I can see some palm trees. Townsend told us that Turtle Key has no trees."

"A good thing for us that it isn't Turtle Key!" declared Matt, plucking up hope. "If we're to be wrecked, the more comfortable the place we're wrecked in, the better. What could we possibly do on a sand hill in the middle of the ocean? If there are trees on that island it may be inhabited. How far away is it, Dick?"

"A mile or more, matey, but just how far it's hard to tell. Bear off a point to starboard--that'll lay us in a direct line with the land."

Matt's anxious eyes were on the gas bag. He watched its diminishing bulk and tried to figure on how long it would keep them out of the water. The tendency of the air ship to settle was now most pronounced. Matt could only fight it by tilting the rudder upward and driving the motor to its full limit. This, of course, diminished somewhat the forward motion; but the breeze, fortunately, was freshening, and the speed lost in keeping the bag in the air was more than compensated by the increased force of the wind.

The island could now be plainly seen by the naked eye. It was low and sandy and only two or three palm trees could be seen. The size of the island dashed Matt's hope of finding it inhabited.

"Keep her moving, mate!" shouted Ferral. "We're coming closer! A quarter of a mile farther and we'll alight on solid ground."

Matt was fighting a fierce battle with the diminishing gas. Every move he could think of was brought into play. From a five hundred-foot elevation the Hawk descended to four hundred feet, to three and then to two.

The craft was tilted sharply upward, the racing propeller trying vainly to drive her back to the heights she was surely and steadily losing.

Matt called Dick and Carl back toward the stern in order to free the forward part of the car of their weight and make it easier to keep the Hawk's nose in the air. This maneuver met with some success, although the air ship continued to settle by the stern, coming nearer and nearer the tumbling waves.

The island was so close now that those aboard could see a little cove in its shore line. The tilted air ship, like some stricken monster, was being carried toward this cove by the wind.

"That bit of a bay is a good place for us to come down, matey," said Dick.

"Almost any place will be good enough," answered Matt, grimly, "just so it's close enough to the shore."

"Der pag," cried Carl, "ain'd more dan haluf so pig as id vas."

"Throw over some of that plunder!" ordered Matt. "Not the water cask or the provisions, but anything else you can lay hands on."

The binoculars went first, then the mooring ropes and a few other objects which could be of no particular use to castaways on a desert island.

The effect was instantly noticeable and, for a brief space, the Hawk seemed to stay her descent. In a few minutes she had drifted almost over the cove.

Just at that moment the hissing of the escaping gas grew to redoubled volume, proving that the rent had suddenly broken wide and that the bag's contents was pouring out. The ship began to drop more rapidly.

"I'll go overboard, mates," shouted Dick. "Maybe that'll lighten the car so the two of you can reach land. It's only a small swim."

In a flash, Ferral had flung himself into the water. But the loss of his weight did not help--the air ship was losing gas too fast for that.

"Over with you, Carl!" cried Matt. "It won't be hard for you to get ashore."

Matt wanted to get the air ship to dry land, but it was apparent to him that this was impossible.

The Hawk was doomed! As quickly as he could, Motor Matt made ready to follow Carl and Dick.

Standing on the rail and clinging to one of the ropes by which the car was suspended from the bag, Matt paused for a second and then flung himself outward and downward.

Coming up, he shook the water from his eyes and began swimming. Dick had already dropped his feet on the bottom and was wading ashore. Carl, spluttering and floundering, was just ahead of Matt.

Dick's eyes were on the air ship. Something about the Hawk was claiming his attention.

Matt, swerving his gaze in the direction of the air ship, was surprised to see her still hanging in the air with the wind slowly wafting her shoreward. For a moment Matt was puzzled, then it flashed over him that there was enough gas in the upper point of the cigar-shaped envelope to keep the empty car and the bag out of the water.

Matt gained the shore and sank down on the sand beside Dick and Carl.

"How do you explain that, matey?" queried Dick.

"Why," answered Matt, "there's enough gas in the point of the bag, above the hole, to keep the fabric aloft. Had we stayed in the car we'd have brought the air ship down into the water. I was afraid the Hawk was lost to us, but now we'll be able to save her, and without injury to the motor. When she gets close enough, we'll catch hold of the car and pull her down."

"Vat good vill it do to safe der air ship, Matt?" asked Carl, lugubriously. "Meppy ve could patch oop der hole, but vere ve going to ged some more gas to fill der pag oop again?"

"We can't get away from this island in the Hawk," returned Matt, "but some ship may come along and pick us up. In that event, we'll be able to take the Hawk away with us. We've got too much money wrapped up in that machine to leave it here on this island."

"Right-o!" exclaimed Dick. "Not only is the Hawk saving herself for us, but she's bringing ashore our supplies. And it's a cinch we're going to need those supplies, mates. I'm a Fiji if I think there's anything but turtles here to eat."

By that time the air ship had drifted over the beach. By running up the slope leading down to the beach, the boys were able to grasp the lower end of the car, and they easily hauled it to the ground. This move caused most of the gas that still remained in the bag to escape, and the envelope flattened itself out in the sand, twisting and writhing as the last of the gas worked its way out.

"This is the end of our cruise in the Hawk," muttered Dick, staring gloomily at the useless air ship, "and if this tight little island hadn't bounced up right in front of us just when we needed it most, the cruise would have been the end of us, too. But there's no use overhauling our hard luck. We're here, and we're safe, and we'd be worse than cannibals not to be satisfied. Let's slant away for those palms, doff our wet gear and sit in the shade till the sun dries our clothes."

"A good idea," assented Matt. "After we get dried out we'll pitch some sort of a camp and try and run up a flag of distress on one of the palm trees. We could be a whole lot worse off than we are, pards."

"Anyvay," grumbled Carl, while he was getting out of his clothes and spreading them in the sun to dry, "we don'd findt dot Durdle Islandt, und ve von't efer know vedder dere iss a iron chest on der islandt or nod."

"Fiend take the iron chest!" grunted Dick.

"You don'd care nodding for dot?" queried Carl, mildly surprised.

"Not a hap'orth. The time has come, Carl, when Motor Matt and his mates have got to look out for Number One. Maskee! If we're hung up on this two-by-twice turtle-back for long, the five thousand we're to get from Townsend won't be a whack-up to what we're losing in Atlantic City. It's a fair bad break we made, coming off on this jamboree. We wouldn't have done it if it hadn't been Townsend that asked us."

"That's the plain truth of it, Dick," said Matt. "Townsend had a claim on us and we were in duty bound to help him."

Carl, in his eagerness to be looking around the island, got into his clothes before they were fairly dry. Leaving Matt and Dick to talk, the Dutch boy ambled away and was quickly out of sight over the knoll that formed the backbone of the island.

"This looks like a case of where the wrong triumphs over the right," observed Dick. "Jurgens, who's a swab and a crook from heels to sky-piece, puts as brazen a piece of work as I ever heard of right over the plate. And it seems as though he was going to score, at that."

"He'll get his come-up-with before long," declared Matt. "That sort of crookedness may win for a little while, but it's bound to lose out in the long run."

"Where Townsend missed it was in not letting the authorities send Jurgens up that time he crawled into Townsend's office and was caught red-handed going through his desk. If Townsend had done what he ought to then, there'd have been no trouble like this now. Sometimes it's bad policy to be too easy with----"

A loud yell came floating over the top of the sandy ridge.

Both Matt and Dick sprang excitedly to their feet.

"Carl!" exclaimed Dick.

"Sounds like he was in trouble," cried Matt. "Come on and let's see what's up."