Chapter XIII: A Twentieth-Century Rescue
As he flew his craft in the direction of the feeble beacon of distress, Dr. Perkins once more switched on the searchlight. Its comforting beam shot across the sea, and finally ceased its swaying and centered on a strange sight. As a dark scene in a theater is illumined at one single point by the calcium light, so the search rays concentrated themselves on a striking picture of distress at sea.
Framed in the circle of white light the boys could see a small gasolene craft, apparently up to the rails in the water. At any rate nothing of the hull but a narrow white strip could be seen, while, on the top of the raised deck cabin crouched the figures of three men. One of these had been swinging the lantern, but he ceased as the bright light from the _Sea Eagle_ bathed the group in its rays. One single mast arose high above the pitching hull, and from it could be seen wires strung down to the cabin top. Evidently this was the wireless apparatus which had been the means of bringing the Boy Aviators and their friend to the rescue.
The yacht could not have been more than fifty feet in length--a very small craft to be equipped with wireless; but her owner, if he was on board, must have been congratulating himself at that very moment on his wise precaution.
It was but a few minutes after the searchlight had first revealed the _Wanderer_ and her distressed company that the _Sea Eagle_ was swinging in a graceful, birdlike circle in the air above the sinking craft.
Frank seized up a small megaphone, which formed part of the sea and sky ship's equipment.
"Ahoy! Aboard the yacht!" he cried.
"Ahoy!" came back the cry, with a note of incredulous wonder in it, as well there might be, considering the extraordinary circumstances.
"Are you the folks we talked with by wireless?" called Harry.
"The very same," was the shouted reply, "but who are you? Can you get us off this? The ship won't last much longer."
"We'll get you off all right," exclaimed Frank comfortingly, and as he spoke Dr. Perkins allowed the _Sea Eagle_ to glide down to the surface of the waves, alighting on the water about five hundred feet from the castaways. He at once headed the _Sea Eagle_ round, and calling for reduced speed made for the sinking yacht.
"Slow down! Stop her! Reverse!" he shouted in rapid succession, as they bore down.
"On board the yacht!" hailed Frank, as they glided up alongside, "throw us a line."
The desired rope came snaking through the air, falling across the _Sea Eagle's_ bow. Harry bounded forward and made it fast.
"Now haul in," ordered Dr. Perkins, as soon as the propellers had ceased to beat the air; "easy now; we don't want to foul the wings."
His order was obeyed; and before long the _Sea Eagle's_ bow was scraping the side of the _Wanderer_. Fortunately, the sea was smooth, or the maneuver would have been impossible of execution. As it was, however, on the easy swell that was running it was made with comparatively small difficulty.
"Well, great Caesar's ghost!" blurted out a stout, blond man in yachting costume, who occupied, apparently, the position of owner of the yacht, "if this isn't the twentieth century with a vengeance. Just think of it, Griggs--rescued by an aeroplane!"
The man addressed, a good-natured-looking man, almost as corpulent as the first speaker, nodded appreciatively.
"We don't really know how to thank you folks," continued the stout man; "we haven't much longer to stay above water, as you see. We hit a derelict at dusk, and stove in our port bow. The water came rushing in so fast that I had barely time to flash that wireless that you so providentially caught."
"It was feeble enough, I can tell you," Frank assured him; "fortunately, we were not far off, and so managed to catch your appeal for help."
The stout man was again warmly thanking his rescuers, when Dr. Perkins interrupted.
"Suppose you come on board," he said; "by the looks of your craft she is likely to take a plunge at any minute. I'd like to be able to cut loose from her before that happens."
Taking this hint, the stout man clambered on board the _Sea Eagle_ with more agility than might have been expected from a man of his heavy build. This done he extended a hand to his friend, and then came the turn of the third occupant of the cabin roof to disembark. This third man was evidently, from his costume, a paid hand on board the _Sea Eagle_. He was slight and dark and foreign looking, with beady black eyes, and a not over-prominent chin.
Directly all were on board, Dr. Perkins ordered Frank to "cast off" from the sinking yacht. It was well this order was obeyed promptly, for hardly had the _Sea Eagle_ been disengaged from the other craft's side, than the _Wanderer_ gave a sudden plunge, bow downward, under the waves. For one instant her stern upreared itself vertically, showing the rudder and propeller, and then, as if by magic, the whole craft vanished, to find a grave in the ocean bed.
All this was seen by the searchlight, which Dr. Perkins had kept concentrated on the yacht while the last act of this ocean drama was being consummated. As the yacht vanished a deep sigh broke from the stout man.
"Good-by, poor old _Wanderer_," he said, "there's an end of this cruise."
"I am sorry that she was not in a condition to tow to Brig Island," remarked Dr. Perkins.
"My dear sir, so far as the actual monetary loss is concerned it was fully covered by insurance," responded the stout man; "my only regret is to see a craft I was very fond of end her days in such a fashion. Also, I am afraid my friend Griggs here will be disappointed at the failure of our cruise."
"Good heavens!" cried Mr. Griggs, who appeared to be a highly nervous individual, "I'm glad to have my life, Sterrett--glad to have my life. If I don't catch my death of cold over this I'll be fortunate indeed."
"In the meantime," struck in the man addressed as Sterrett, "we are forgetting in our own troubles the debt of gratitude we owe to our friends here. In the first place, let me introduce ourselves. I am Paul Sterrett, late owner of the _Wanderer_. This is my friend, Samuel Griggs, and yonder," indicating the foreign-looking third man, "is Francis Le Blanc, our cook and general handy man. We left New York on a cruise up the coast sometime ago, and up till to-night experienced no mishaps. However, as my friend says, we must not repine; we should consider ourselves fortunate indeed to be onboard your remarkable craft instead of being in a watery grave, as we must have been had it not been for your opportune arrival."
"We consider ourselves fortunate to have been of service to you," responded the inventor, and then went on in his turn to introduce himself and his party, and also give a brief explanation of the _Sea Eagle_, which had, as may be imagined, excited the liveliest curiosity on the part of the rescued castaways.
"But as we shall now get under way without further loss of time," he concluded, "you will be able to see for yourselves just how the _Sea Eagle_ is controlled, and what she can do."
As he finished this speech, Dr. Perkins extinguished the searchlight, which had still been playing on the oil-streaked waters which marked the burial spot of the ill-fated _Wanderer_. This done, he gave Frank the "come ahead" signal. Obediently, as usual, the motor began its song, and the propellers took up the whirring, buzzing refrain. Mr. Sterrett and his companions sat perfectly still in the positions in the stern which had been assigned to them. Had it been light enough to read the expressions on their faces one would have said that they were absolutely dumbfounded.
Of course both Mr. Sterrett and his friends--as well informed men--knew the wonderful capabilities of the modern aeroplane. They had witnessed many flights, and in common with the generality of progressive Americans, knew the general principles of aerial locomotion. But when the _Sea Eagle_ from a "boat" turned suddenly into a hydroplane, they exchanged swift expressions of the utmost astonishment. Only their companion, the paid "hand" from the yacht, sat sullenly unimpressed. In fact, since he had boarded the _Sea Eagle_, he had not uttered a syllable, only mumbling his thanks when Mr. Sterrett and his companion had finished expressing their gratitude for their rescue.
Under the skillful guidance of Dr. Perkins, and the constant attention that Frank paid to the whirring motor, the _Sea Eagle_ made a quick run back to the island, being guided, when she was still some distance away, by the ruddy glare of a big beacon fire lighted by Ben Stubbs. It was an instance of the veteran adventurer's thoughtfulness and resource that he had thought of doing this, for in the hurry of the departure, no such instructions had been given him. But on his own responsibility he had kindled the blaze which materially aided the swift return of the _Sea Eagle_ to her eyrie.
Reaching the island, the aerial wonder was sent swinging in decreasing circles, till Dr. Perkins was sure of a safe drop to the workshop on the summit of the little spot of land, and then, with a breath-catching rapidity, the helmsman sent his wonderful vessel earthward, bringing it to a stop within the ruddy glow caused by the blazing bonfire which had guided them.
As the _Sea Eagle_ settled to the earth the party that had been left behind on the adventurous night flight pressed to the side of the novel craft. A glance showed them that the mission of Dr. Perkins' craft had been crowned with success, and Billy and Pudge began plying the returned voyagers with eager questions. Ben Stubbs was slightly in the background, and it was not till Mr. Sterrett and his companions had stepped out on to the ground that he got a good look at them.
When he did, he gave a deep-drawn gasp of surprise. An expression of supreme amazement overspread his weather-beaten countenance. But his eyes did not fix on Mr. Sterrett or his companion, Griggs. Instead they traveled beyond the nattily clad yachtsmen and rested on the slim figure of the paid "hand."
"Raoul Duval, as sure as there's a north star!" choked out Ben, half to himself, "waal, if this ain't a small bit of a world!"
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The Boy Aviators' Flight for a FortuneChapter XIII: A Twentieth-Century Rescue
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