Chapter VIII: An Accident

"I think I see it, mate!" called Dick, as the Hawk came closer to the clear stretch of sand. "To the right a little--about two points--and keep her dropping as she is."

"I see it, too!" declared Townsend, leaning out over the rail.

When ascending or descending, the car of the air ship, as might naturally be supposed, was always tilted. In the present instance it was inclined at a dangerous angle, for Matt was trying to bring the craft to an even keel as nearly over the spot where the sextant was lying as he could.

The inclination of the car made it exceedingly difficult for those who were standing to keep their feet, and it was only by clinging to the rail that they could do so. Matt had a chair, and there were supports against which he could brace his feet, thus leaving his hands free at all times to manage the motor.

When about twelve feet above the beach, another gust of air struck the air ship, buffeting her roughly sideways, Townsend was leaning so far over the rail that the jerk of the car caused him to lose his balance. His hands were torn from the rail and he pitched headlong out of the car.

At this mishap, which threatened tragic consequences, consternation seized the boys.

"Donnervetter!" whooped Carl, "he vill be killed."

Quickly as he could, Matt brought the Hawk to the beach. There was no way of mooring the craft, and she swung back and forth in the wind, making it necessary for Matt to stay aboard.

"Tumble out, Dick, you and Carl," Matt called. "See if Townsend has been hurt."

Dick and Carl found Townsend trying to get up. His face was set as with pain, and it was clearly evident that he had not come through the mishap uninjured.

"What's the matter?" asked Dick.

"It's my foot," answered Townsend, stifling a groan. "I turned in the air and struck almost on my feet. I'm lucky, I suppose, not to have landed on my head and broken my neck. It's a sprain, I guess, but it hurts like Sam Hill. Help me up."

Dick and Carl got on each side of Townsend and lifted him erect. The injury to his right foot was so great that he could not step on it, and was almost carried back to the car by the two boys.

"We'd better put in at Stone Harbor, Mr. Townsend," said Matt, a troubled look crossing his face, "and let a doctor have a look at you."

"I'm sure it's only a sprain," returned Townsend, pluckily, "and we won't delay the voyage by stopping at Stone Harbor. Just make me comfortable on the floor of the car and have Carl take off my shoe and wrap a bandage around the foot. I'll get along. It was my own fault," he added, "for I had no business to be leaning so far over the rail. Pick up the sextant, Ferral."

Dick went for the sextant. It had fallen in soft sand and, although damaged to some extent, had not lost its usefulness.

While Dick was recovering the sextant, Carl was making Townsend as comfortable as possible on the floor of the car. A folded canvas shelter, which Matt had devised as a covering for the Hawk, was brought into requisition and spread out for Townsend to lie on. Townsend's shoe was then removed. The foot and ankle as yet showed no signs of the injury, but every touch caused so much pain that Townsend had to clinch his teeth to keep from crying out.

Matt, for such an emergency as had just presented itself, always carried a bottle of arnica in the toolbox. Carl got out the arnica, soaked a rag with it and bound the rag around Townsend's foot. Over this another bandage was placed, and Townsend lay back on his makeshift couch and rested.

"It would only delay us a few hours," said Matt, "to stop at Stone Harbor and have a doctor give your foot proper attention."

"I don't think that's necessary, Matt," answered Townsend. "Get under way again. We've lost half an hour already."

The accident, although it had resulted in an injury which might have been infinitely more serious, dropped a pall over the spirits of the three boys. If omens counted for anything, the cruise was to end in disaster.

Matt started the machinery and got the air ship aloft and once more headed on her course. How he and his chums were ever going to reach Turtle Key, hampered by an injured passenger, was more than he knew. The outlook was dubious, to say the least.

Noon found them over the State of Delaware and reaching along toward Chesapeake Bay. The wind grew steady and shifted until it was almost directly behind them, and the Hawk went spinning through the air at the rate of forty miles an hour.

As if to offset this favorable trend of wind and weather, Townsend's injury appeared to be growing steadily worse. His ankle was swollen and there was a dark, angry look to the skin. The pain was intense, but Townsend insisted that the Hawk should keep steadily on her way. At all costs, he declared, they must make the most of the favoring breeze.

The rations were drawn upon for dinner, Dick eating first and then taking Matt's place among the levers while he bolted his food.

Early in the afternoon the Hawk sailed over the broad mouth of Chesapeake Bay and was saluted by an American man-of-war that was passing below them.

Carl busied himself taking care of Townsend, and Matt and Dick gave their attention to the maps. Townsend had eaten a good dinner and was feeling somewhat better.

"What was that?" he asked, rousing up as the sound of the saluting cannon rattled on his ears.

Matt explained, and Townsend watched Dick as he dipped the stars and stripes that always flew from the rear end of the car.

"We've got to keep pegging along, night and day," said Townsend, "until we reach the island. After that we can take things a little easier."

"If there's no timber on the island," spoke up Dick, "how are we going to moor the Hawk? The island's so small that we'll have our hands full keeping the air ship from being blown out to sea."

"In a pinch," suggested Matt, "we can fill that canvas covering for the Hawk with sand and tie the craft to it."

"Sandbags would be better, if we had them," remarked Townsend. "Prop me up a little, Carl," he added, to the Dutch boy; "I want to do some writing."

Carl bolstered Townsend up with one of the boxes of provisions, and the injured man put in an hour of pencil work on the back of an old letter. By then it was evident that his ankle was paining him again, and he put away the pencil and the results of his labor, had the box removed and laid flat down in the car. Presently he was asleep. Dick came aft along the rail for a few words with Matt.

"We'll never be able to take Townsend to the island, matey," said Dick, in a low tone. "It's my opinion that he's worse off than he thinks he is. That don't look to me like a sprain, but like a break."

Matt nodded glumly.

"It's hard luck, Dick," he answered, "but I'm of your opinion. Still, what can we do? Townsend has chartered the Hawk for two weeks, and we're under his orders. If he insists that we stay aloft with him and take him to Turtle Key, we'll have to try it."

"I guess you've nicked it. We're under orders, as you say, and we've got to do just what Townsend tells us, but I'll be keelhauled if the prospect ain't discouraging. We're out to win that five thousand, and I guess we can do it, but I'd like mighty well to help Townsend and not stand by and see him spend his money without getting a fair return for it."

"That's the way I feel," agreed Matt. "The weather's good, the wind favoring, and all we can do is to keep fanning along. By to-morrow, something may happen to give things a brighter look. Go forward, Dick, watch the maps and keep a sharp lookout. Let me know where we are from time to time."

The motor hummed steadily, and hour after hour the Hawk clove her way through the air. They passed over Newport News and Norfolk, and could see the inhabitants of each town running along the streets and looking up at them.

All sounds from the earth reached those in the air ship with weird distinctness. The cries of the people, the galloping hoofs of a horse, the rattle of a wagon floated upward, clear and strong.

Questions were shouted to the boys, but before they could have answered the swiftly moving Hawk had carried them out of earshot. They made it a rule to do no talking with the people below, not having the time for any extended conversation and knowing well that what little they could say would only increase the general curiosity instead of lessening it.

Well to the south of Norfolk the air ship reached out along the Carolina coast. When the sun went down, and it was falling dark, lights were beginning to gleam in a city which, from the maps, the boys knew to be Wilmington. Matt's watch told him it was seven o'clock. They had been twelve hours on the wing and had covered a distance which, by air line, measured more than five hundred miles.

It was decided by the boys that the night should be divided into three watches, and that during each watch one of them should take his "turn below," as Dick expressed it.

During the first watch, from seven to eleven, Dick was to be in charge of the motor and Carl was to take the lookout, while Matt slept; from eleven to three, Matt was to look after the motor, Carl was to continue on lookout duty, and Dick was to sleep; and from three to seven, Carl was to sleep and Dick was to relieve him.

As soon as the lights of Wilmington had died into a glow behind the car, Matt laid himself down beside Townsend and was soon "taking his stretch off the land, full and by, forty knots," as Dick remarked to Carl.

Matt had slept nearly his allotted four hours, although it did not seem to him as though he had much more than closed his eyes, when he was aroused by the report of a firearm and a startled yell from Carl.

In a twinkling the young motorist was on his feet, hanging to the rail, peering about him and asking what was the matter.

Before either Matt or Carl could answer, another report echoed out, the ringing impact of a bullet against the car's framework was heard, and then the whistle of the ball as it carromed off into space.

Springing to the levers, Matt jerked at the one which lifted or lowered the rudder. In another moment, the Hawk was climbing up the moonbeams like a black streak.