The Boy Aviators' Flight for a Fortune

CHAPTER XI.—“GOOD LUCK!”

Suddenly the boy switched to his transmitting apparatus. With his helix he began attuning the length of his sparks, while the snake-like blue flame hissed and crackled across the “high-efficiency” spark gap. It looked like a living thing of lambent fire, as it writhed and screamed in response to the pressure on the key.

“What’s wanted? Where are you?”

This was the message that went speeding out on the air waves from the aërials above the hut.

“This is the yacht Wanderer, from New York to Rocktown. We have struck a derelict and are leaking badly. Who are you?”

“A station on Brig Island, about four miles at sea from Motthaven. Where are you?”

The latter question was unanswered for the time being. Instead came another query:

“Have you any means by which you can get to our assistance? We are in dire peril.”

“We will try to aid you. But what is your position?”

“Wait. I’ll look at the chart.”

There came a pause, during which Frank rapidly detailed what he had heard to the eager group of listeners. But in the midst of it the unknown sender broke in once more.

“We are about twenty miles to the southeast of you, on an almost straight course. Can keep afloat only a few hours longer. Can you get tug from the mainland?”

“Impossible,” flashed back Frank, “but will do what we can. Are you at anchor?”

“No, but the drift is very little. We are off soundings. Can you come to our aid?”

Frank’s fingers pressed down on the key firmly. Rapidly he sent this message pulsating:

“How many on board?”

“Three. Owner, a friend and a hand.”

“All right. Standby!”

“Good-by, and hurry,” came out of the night, and then—silence.

Frank disconnected his instruments and turned to the others. Rapidly he detailed the impending tragedy out there in the darkness.

“Can’t we get to them in the motor boat?” demanded Harry breathlessly.

Frank shook his head.

“Not in the time we have. They can’t keep afloat much longer, recollect. What can be done? Is there no way we can help them?”

“Yes, there is.”

The words came quietly but in a decided tone from Dr. Perkins. Frank was the first to guess the import of the speech.

“The Sea Eagle!” he exclaimed excitedly.

Dr. Perkins nodded.

“Yes. Here is our chance to test her in the service of humanity. She is ready for flight this instant.”

“But in the darkness? How can we pick up this yacht?”

“By the searchlight. Most likely the yacht has rockets. When she sees our searchlight she will send some up. That will give us her bearings. The general location of the craft we know.”

“Are we all to go?” demanded Pudge.

“Hardly,” rejoined his father, slipping into an overcoat, for the night was somewhat chilly, though the air was calm. “Frank and Harry, I need you two. You others await our return. Have hot coffee and food ready, as the survivors may be in need of nourishment.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” responded Ben; “and now, sir, if I may give a bit of advice, lose no time in getting away. I’ve been in some sea disasters myself, and sometimes every second counts.”

“You’re right, Stubbs,” ejaculated Dr. Perkins. “Boys, get the Sea Eagle ready. I’ll bring along the searchlight.”

While Frank and Harry hastened on their errand, Dr. Perkins got the searchlight out of its locker. It was a small but powerful one, constructed so as to fit into a socket on the Sea Eagle’s “bow.” Its light was supplied from a small dynamo connected with the engine of the sea-and-air craft. By the time the doctor was ready the Sea Eagle had been wheeled out of her shed, and Frank gave a sharp hail.

“All ready, doctor!”

“With you in a moment, my boy,” was the response, as the inventor hastened out into the darkness.

The outlines of the Sea Eagle loomed up gray and ghostly in the gloom. Only a tiny speck of light showed in her bow by the steering wheel, where a minute electric bulb shed light on the compass. This light was obtained from a storage battery of peculiarly light construction, connected with the dynamo before mentioned.

The boys had clambered on board as soon as the airship had been wheeled out of its shed. They extended their hands to Dr. Perkins and helped him on board. The searchlight was put in place and its wires connected to the storage battery. A snap of a switch and a sharp pencil of light cut the night. The appliance worked to perfection.

“Now, then,” said the doctor, as he took the wheel, “the less time we lose, the better. Frank, you had better apply the buoyancy apparatus, as we must make an abrupt rise to clear the trees.”

“Why not launch from the runway?” inquired Frank; “wouldn’t that be quicker?”

“That’s right. I think it would. Head the prow round for the rails.”

Willing hands pushed the Sea Eagle around, for on her ball-bearing supporting wheels she handled very easily, despite her great weight.

Presently the craft was poised at the summit of the incline, ready for her rush downward.

“Give her power!” cried the doctor.

Frank seized the self-starting lever, and gave it a twirl. A pressure of his forefinger on the button followed, and almost simultaneously the motor began to thunder and roar.

“Right here!” cried Frank.

“All right. Hold tight. I’m going to apply full power.”

Dr. Perkins jerked back the clutch lever as he spoke. There was a jarring shock, and then a downward rush through the night, the searchlight cutting a blazing white path through the blackness. Down, down they raced at terrific speed. Suddenly the jarring movement ceased. The Sea Eagle appeared to glide upward as if drawn skyward by invisible ropes. As the craft left the rails, and began soaring to the stars that looked quietly down on the exciting scene, a sound was borne upward to the aërial voyagers.

“Good-by.”

And then an instant later in Ben’s stentorian tones:

“So long, mates! Go-o-o-d luck!”

CHAPTER XII.—THROUGH THE NIGHT.

“Close to fifty,” he shouted back, for, owing to the roar of the engines and propellers, it was necessary to raise the voice in speaking to any one at a distance.

“Then we should be in the vicinity in half an hour?”

“Yes; that is unless——”

But Dr. Perkins broke off abruptly. The Sea Eagle had now attained a height of some five hundred feet, at which altitude he intended to keep the craft till they reached the vicinity of the disabled yacht.

The cause of the sudden breaking off of his shouted remarks was this: Without the slightest warning the Sea Eagle gave a sickening dip downward, and rushed toward the sea; or rather, to those in the falling ship, it seemed as if the sea was racing up devouringly toward them.

“Gracious, what’s happened?” shouted Harry.

But Frank was too busy with the engine to answer just then.

“Power! Give me lots of power!” yelled Dr. Perkins.

But although Frank instantly opened up the motor to its full capacity of two thousand revolutions a minute, the downward rush still continued.

“The sea! We’ll be plunged into the sea!” cried Harry, in alarm, gripping a side support.

Indeed there appeared to be good cause for his apprehension, for the Sea Eagle was falling like a stone flung into space. All this, of course, took place in far less time than it takes to describe or to read it. In fact, hardly had Harry shouted his fears before the Sea Eagle’s “hull”—as we must call the hydroplane part of the craft—struck the water, and a huge cloud of spray flew high on either side.

But instead of diving, the Sea Eagle shot forward over the waves, gliding over their tops for some time before Frank shut off the motor. Even then such was the “shooting” velocity gained, that the Sea Eagle still continued to scoot along until the young engineer, in response to Dr. Perkins’ instructions, reversed her propellers, and thus brought the craft to a speedy standstill.

“What on earth happened?” demanded Frank anxiously, as the Sea Eagle lay still, bobbing up and down on the gentle swell.

“We struck an air pocket. An empty hole in space where there was no ether to support us,” explained Dr. Perkins.

“Gracious; I thought we were goners,” cried Harry, still a little shaky over the fearful sensation of the fall.

“Had the Sea Eagle been of different construction we should have dived as straight to the bottom as a loon,” said the inventor, “but the spoonlike construction of the bow allowed me to handle her so that, instead of the impulse of the fall being downward, it was diverted into a forward movement along the surface.”

“Shall we go up again?” asked Frank, after a hasty examination had been made to ascertain if anything had parted or snapped under the strain of the suddenly arrested tumble through the air pocket.

“Yes. We had better lose as little time as possible,” was the rejoinder. “If you are ready, start the engine up, and we will try a flight from the surface of the water.”

“You want full power?” asked Frank.

“Yes; but start up gently at first, gradually increasing to top velocity. I think, however, that we shall leave the water at about 1,500 revolutions a minute.”

The next minute the roar of the newly started engine prevented further conversation. In order to develop every ounce of power of which the motor was capable Frank had opened the muffler cut-out, and the uproar was terrific. Spurts of greenish flame spouted from the exhausts, and the acrid smell of burning oil and gasolene filled the air. To any one less accustomed than the Boy Aviators to the uproar of aërial motors, the noise would have been alarming to say the least. They, however, were too much used to such scenes to pay any attention to it.

Faster and faster the Sea Eagle sped over the waves, till her keel barely touched the tips of the swells. Then suddenly the jerky motion ceased, and the craft, buoyed by its wings, began to soar upward in a steadily increasing gradient. Before ten minutes had passed they were once more on an even keel at a five-hundred-feet altitude, and bearing steadily for the southwest.

Frank looked at his watch.

“We ought to be getting pretty close to that yacht by now,” he remarked to Harry, who had seated himself at his side, and was assisting in attending to the lubrication and watching of the motor.

“I’ll keep a sharp lookout,” rejoined Harry; “they surely ought to hear the noise of our motor and send up a rocket or wave lights, or something, if they are in the vicinity.

“That’s just what I think. Keep your eyes open while I watch the engine.”

Harry peered out into the night, but as far as he could see nothing appeared but the reflection of the stars in the water to relieve its blackness.

“I can’t see anything yet,” he said, after a while.

“Just keep on looking,” rejoined Frank; “there’s a chance that they may have drifted from the position they gave us.”

“Well, in any case it would have been impossible for us to fly direct to the spot,” rejoined Harry; “this thing is a good deal like looking for a needle in a haystack, to my way of thinking.”

“I’m not so sure of that. If they are anywhere within five or six miles they must hear the beat of our motor.”

“Wonder why Dr. Perkins doesn’t switch on the searchlight. Hullo, there it goes now.”

As Harry spoke, a fan-shaped ray of brilliant white light cut the night in front of the Sea Eagle, like a radiant sword. Hither and thither it swept over the dark sea; but it revealed nothing. All at once Dr. Perkins shut the searchlight off.

“If they have seen it they will reply in some way,” he shouted in explanation to the boys. “Keep a bright lookout for an answer. I’ll keep the Sea Eagle swinging in circles. We have been doing thirty miles an hour, and even allowing for the delay when we struck the air pocket we ought to be in the disabled yacht’s vicinity by this time.”

As the searchlight was extinguished Harry peered out into the darkness with straining eyes. Suddenly he gave a shout and clutched Frank’s arm.

“What’s that,” he shouted, “that light off there to the south?”

“It’s a lantern,” cried Frank; “somebody’s waving it.”

Dr. Perkins confirmed Frank’s supposition, and the Sea Eagle, on her errand of rescue, was headed for the swinging pin-point of light in the distance.

CHAPTER XIII.—A TWENTIETH-CENTURY RESCUE.

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 Cæsar’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 aëroplane!”

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 aëroplane. They had witnessed many flights, and in common with the generality of progressive Americans, knew the general principles of aërial 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 aërial 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!”

CHAPTER XIV.—BEN’S PLAN STOLEN.

Ben, in wonderment as to this unexpected reappearance of the young man who had exercised such sharp practice on him, obeyed the summons. But when he addressed Duval it was in an angry tone.

“What’s this mean,” he exclaimed, “how did you come here?”

“As you see, by that air ship,” was the reply; “I never expected to see you here, however. I tell you, Stubbs, I’ve had a lot of hard luck. When those boys and that professor-chap rescued us I had been compelled to ship as a deckhand and cook on that yacht. Just think of it.”

“A mighty good thing for you, say I,” grunted Ben brusquely, “a little good, honest, hard work will take some of the crooked kinks out of your brain. My recommendation to you, Duval, is to stick to that sort of a job, and in time you’ll learn to be a man.”

Duval shot a look full of malice at the blunt old fellow. But his face was in the shadow, and Ben did not notice it. Instead he continued:

“But I ain’t the one to bear a grudge, Duval, although you did come mighty near shipwrecking my faith in human natur’. Shake hands, mate, and for your old father’s sake I’ll do what I can fer you. I ain’t one to kick a man when he’s down.”

Duval extended his thin, long-fingered hand, and Ben seized it in his rough paw and shook it with a heartiness that made the dark-skinned Duval flinch.

“There!” exclaimed the old fellow heartily, as he relinquished his grip, “that’s all ship-shape and in good trim. Now let’s get back to the rest of ’em afore they see us talking apart.”

“You’re not going to give me away to them?” asked Duval, almost breathlessly. “Sterrett thinks I’m all right, and may give me a better job some time.”

“I won’t stand in your way, lad,” heartily rejoined Ben. “In fact, I’d like to help you get on your feet again.”

“How about that plan of the location of the Belle of New Orleans?” asked Duval, without paying any attention to Ben’s last remarks.

“Safe enough in my pocket, mate,” replied Ben, tapping his worn coat; “why do you want to know?”

“I wondered if you had investigated my story.”

“No, I haven’t yet; but I don’t mind telling you that I may do so before very long. And I’ll tell you right now, Duval, that if we recover anything valuable from that wreck I’ll see to it that you get a good share of it, and then you can set up in business again and make a new start.”

Duval expressed what appeared to be very deep thanks for Ben’s generosity. But, in reality, his thoughts were busy elsewhere. An idea had come into his head that was to bear strange fruit before very long. They joined the group clustered about Dr. Perkins without their absence having been noticed. Billy and Pudge had seen to it while the Sea Eagle was on her mission of rescue that a good hot lunch should be ready on the return of the expedition. A few moments after Ben and Duval joined the others Pudge announced this fact, and the party trooped into the hut, nothing loath, to fall to with hearty appetites on a good meal. Soon after they “turned in,” the boys insisting on the strangers taking their bunks, while they and Ben Stubbs put up with “shake-downs” on the floor.

It was very late—or rather early morning—when they retired, and before long all were wrapped in the deep sleep of exhaustion. Ben was the first to awaken, to find the sun streaming into the hut.

“Great guns!” he exclaimed, glancing at Billy’s alarm clock on a shelf, “it’s after seven.”

Broad awake in a jiffy, he aroused the others, going from the floor sleepers to the bunks. Dr. Perkins, Mr. Sterrett and the latter’s friend were awakened in turn, and it was not till then that Ben noticed that Duval’s bunk was empty.

“Good fer him,” he said to himself warmly, “the young chap has started to turn over a new leaf by gittin’ out early. I’ll take a turn outside afore breakfast and see if I can find him.”

But Duval was not about the workshop, nor did Ben’s calls summon him to breakfast. It was not till that instant that an ugly suspicion flashed into Ben’s hitherto unsuspecting mind. Without saying a word to the others he hastily drew out his wallet and, withdrawing to a corner of the hut, examined its contents. Instantly his suspicions were verified.

The plan of the location of the wreck of the Belle of New Orleans was missing!

Stifling his anger as well as he could, Ben hastened to the beach. As he had suspected the moment he found the plan missing, the small skiff was gone. What had happened was as plain as print to Ben now. Young Duval had waited till all in the hut were asleep, then he had stealthily crept from his bunk, recovered the plan he had given to Ben, and had decamped in the small boat.

“Waal, the dern scallywag!” burst out Ben, as he stood on the beach in the first shock of his discovery.

In his anger he shook his fist at the strip of sea between the island and the mainland to which, he did not doubt, Duval had crossed in his flight.

“The—the—precious scamp!” he continued, his bronzed features working, “and I trusted him as I would have trusted his dad.”

Shaking his head, Ben slowly made his way from the beach back to the hut. He said nothing of his discovery during breakfast, but after the meal he found a pretext for drawing Dr. Perkins to one side. To him he communicated what had occurred.

“A good riddance of bad rubbish,” said Dr. Perkins when Ben, whose voice shook with anger, had concluded his story; “we are cheaply rid of him, Ben.”

The inventor, while not a selfish man, was so wrapped up in the success of the Sea Eagle that, to him, the loss of the plan of the wreck did not appeal in the same way that it did to Ben Stubbs. But the old adventurer took him up indignantly.

“Bad rubbish, as you say, sir,” he grated out, “but if that paper hadn’t bin worth something Duval wouldn’t have taken it. It’s good-by to recovering that stuff from the Belle of New Orleans now.”

“By Jove! I’d quite forgotten my promise to you,” said Dr. Perkins contritely; “but never fear, Ben, I’ll see that you are not a loser.”

“It ain’t that,” rejoined Ben; “I don’t give a snap for the plan; but it’s the ingratitood of that young whippersnapper that’s got me sore. I’d like—I’d like to find that wreck just to get ahead of him.”

“Humph!” rejoined the inventor, “I understand your feelings. He has certainly treated you very badly. But possibly we can think up some way to outgeneral him.”

“Don’t see how we are goin’ to do it without that plan,” rejoined Ben; “but I ain’t one to cry over spilt milk. It’s gone, and that’s all there is to it. The best thing to do is to forget it.”

Frank and Harry, on their way to the Sea Eagle’s shelter, were passing at the moment. After asking the inventor if he thought it would be advisable, and receiving an affirmative reply, Ben called them over. As briefly as he could he told them what had happened.

“Well, the precious rascal!” broke out Frank; “I thought there was something snaky-looking about the chap last night. Isn’t there a chance of catching him?”

“Not such a slick rascal as he is, Frank,” rejoined Ben despondently; “no, the plan is gone, and gone for good—so good-by to that.”

But Harry now spoke up, and to the astonishment of the others his voice did not hold a trace of the disappointment they could not help but feel.

“Cheer up, Ben,” he said heartily, “and by the way you might just cast your eye over this and see if it looks familiar.”

As he spoke he dipped a hand into his breast pocket and produced a folded paper. Ben, with a mystified expression, took it and opened the thing up. The next instant it almost fell from his hands.

“Why!—why, by the glittering Pole Star!” he choked out, “it’s the plan itself!”

“Not exactly,” laughed Harry, “but I think it’s a pretty good copy. You see I always liked drawing and that sort of thing, so when you showed me that plan I memorized it, and when I got a chance I sketched out this copy in case anything happened to the original. I think it’s good enough to take a chance on.”

“Good enough!” roared Ben, “why, lad, it’s the plan itself. Now, then, if we don’t beat Master Duval to the Belle of New Orleans call me a double-decked, lee-scuppered sea cook!”

CHAPTER XV.—WHAT HAPPENED ASHORE.

Shoving off the skiff, he had taken up the oars and started rowing as fast as he could for the mainland. But what with the darkness and his unfamiliarity with that part of the coast, he had failed to land in the cove adjoining the fisher village of Motthaven, and had beached his craft a considerable distance to the south of the place. It was just growing light when the bow of the skiff grated on the sand, and Duval hastily scrambled out and started off. His object was to find a railroad station and travel as far as his scant supply of money would take him from the vicinity of Brig Island.

After that his plans were still vague; but he had an indefinite idea of getting to New York or some large town, and interesting anybody with capital to finance an expedition for the recovery of the gold dust chest and the bag of black pearls that lay at the bottom of the Black Bayou amid the moldering timbers of the lost steamer. The utter depravity and black-heartedness of this plan, and his base ingratitude to the man who had aided him in every way, did not strike him. Instead, there was but one over-mastering thought in his mind, and that was to secure whatever treasure might be in the wreck as quickly as possible, and then vanish from America for some foreign country with his ill-gotten wealth.

Busy with such thoughts as these, he hastened up the beach in the gray of the dawn, and finding a rough sort of path leading up the low cliff that overhung the beach, he started to ascend it. He had not gone more than a few paces, however, before he saw, buried back in some trees, a rough-looking hut.

Duval was hungry and thirsty, and, moreover, his long row, at such a feverish pace, had exhausted him. Determining to tell a story that would account for his presence in that isolated part of the coast at such an early hour, he made up his mind to apply at the hut for some refreshment. His story was to be that he had set off on a fishing expedition and had lost his way and been wandering all night.

“Probably only some fool fisherman lives there who will believe anything I choose to tell him,” he thought; “these fellows are all as thick as mud, anyhow.”

Musing to himself in this fashion, the renegade fellow made his way toward the hut and, coming to the door, knocked loudly on it. But there was no answer, and when, after repeated knockings, he could elicit no response, Duval determined that, as there appeared to be nobody at home, he would walk in uninvited and see what he could “forage” for himself.

The door was unlocked; in fact, it had no latch and hung crazily on its rusty hinges. Opening it, Duval found himself in an interior as rough and uncouth as the outside of the hut had promised. A table made of old planks, seemingly flotsam from the beach, two soap boxes for chairs, and a rough sort of bunk, or rather shelf, littered with a pile of dirty old blankets, made up the furnishings. On the table were the remains of a meal, which had consisted apparently of roasted lobsters and fish. Two tin cups and tin plates, with battered knives and forks beside them, completed the table service.

“Confound it all,” muttered Duval, “whoever lives here is as poor as a church mouse. Some miserable fisherman, I suppose, who has hardly enough to keep body and soul together.”

He walked to a corner of the shack where there was a sort of cupboard contrived out of old boxes. He had guessed that this formed the pantry of the establishment. Sure enough, in it he found a loaf half consumed, and the remains of a roasted lobster, as well as some scraps of fish. He was too hungry to be particular and was just about to start eating when a quick step behind him caused him to start violently, dropping the food he had in his hand.

But before he could utter a word the young man—or, rather, loutish boy—who had entered so quietly, owing to his being barefooted, stepped up to him and, raising a heavy oar he carried, dealt the intruder a blow that deprived him of his senses for the time being.

As Duval fell to the floor a man in rough fisherman’s garb, with a wrinkled, mahogany-tinged face and a tuft of gray whisker on his prominent chin, entered.

“Why, Zeb, what’s up?” he exclaimed, in an astonished voice.

“I found this feller snoopin’ about in here, pop,” was the rejoinder, “an’ I calkelated ter lay him out till we could find out what his business was.”

“Good ernuff, boy,” responded the elder Daniels, for most of our readers must be aware by this time of the identity of the two newcomers; “but who do yer suppose he is? He’s dressed like one of them fancy sailors off’n a yacht.”

“Dad, I figger he’s a detective sent here by them kids on Brig Island. That’s the way it looks to me.”

“I guess you’re right, Zeb. Here, give me a hand to get him up on the bunk. By hickory, but you must have hit him a clip.”

“Reckon I did land kind er hard on him, dad, but I wasn’t takin’ chances of his turning on me.”

The two worthies lifted Duval’s limp form and laid it, not over-gently, on the tumbled pile of frowsy blankets. This done, a sudden thought struck the elder Daniels.

“Calkerlate I’ll take a look through his pockets,” he said; “might rummage out something worth havin’.”

Zeb helped his father in this task; but aside from a small sum of money, and a collection of worthless odds and ends, they found nothing that appeared to them to be of importance. In an inner pocket Zeb came across the stolen map. Much mystified, he showed it to his father.

“What do you think this kin be, pop?” he inquired.

The old man took it and knitted his brow over the document in a puzzled fashion.

“By hickory, I kain’t make it out,” he confessed; “thar’s some riting in ther corner, though. Spell it out, Zeb.”

Zeb, obediently, but somewhat laboriously, read out:

“‘Map of the location of the wreck of the Belle of New Orleans.’ That’s what it says; but what does it mean?”

“That’s plain enough, ain’t it?” retorted the old man. “It’s a map of some wreck or other, but what does this feller want with it? That’s the question.”

“Better ask him. He’s opening his eyes and coming to.”

Sure enough Duval stirred uneasily, and threw up his hand as if to ward off a blow.

“Don’t hit me, Frank Chester,” he cried out; “I’ll give back the plan I stole.”

“Oh-ho! That’s the way the wind blows, is it?” muttered the elder Daniels, and then, addressing Duval, who was now staring wildly about him, he said:

“So you come from Brig Island, eh, my hearty?”

“Yes; but how did I get here? Oh, I remember now. I was looking for food and somebody struck me.”

“That was me, I reckon,” grinned Zeb, “who are you, anyhow? Did those kids on Brig Island send you here after us?”

What with the effects of his blow, and his alarm at his position, Duval lost his customary caution.

“I’m no friend of anybody on Brig Island,” he exclaimed, “but what do you know about that place, anyhow?”

“A whole lot,” grimly rejoined the elder Daniels; “now, see here, my lad, you’d best make a clean breast of it. How did you come by this plan?”

The old fisherman, who was pretty keen-minded, had guessed by Duval’s guilty manner that there was some mystery connected with the document which he now flourished.

Duval sat up on the bunk and pleaded for the return of the plan; but to no avail.

“I’m smart enough to see through a wall when there’s a hole in it,” said old Daniels; “now, see here, I reckon you ain’t no friend of them kids on the island?”

Duval shook his head. He had, of course, no reason to dislike the boys; but he was an arrant coward at heart, and saw that the men in whose power he was, hated the young dwellers on Brig Island. He therefore thought it good policy to affect to be of their way of thinking.

“I’m no friend of theirs,” he said, rather sullenly, “but what’s that to you?”

“May be a whole lot, if this plan is what I think it is. Now I’ve a pretty good idea that you come by it in no very honest way. Ain’t that so?”

“I—I was given it,” stammered Duval uneasily, while Zenas’ little gimlet-like gray eyes bored him through.

“That’s a lie,” rejoined Daniels easily; “come on, out with the truth, now. It won’t do you no harm, and may keep you from the constables.”

This was a shrewd move on Daniels’ part. Duval’s eyes dilated with fear at the idea of coming within the reach of the law. Without more ado he blurted out part of the story of the lost Belle of New Orleans, and offered to let Zenas share in the prize if he should locate it. While Duval was talking the elder Daniels had leaned forward, consumed with interest. Avaricious to a degree, the thought of the sunken treasure made him fairly burn with desire to gain it.

“You’re sure that was a true story that feller give you?” he asked, as Duval concluded his story.

“I’m certain of it. I know for a fact that my father had a lot of gold dust and those black pearls with him on his last voyage, for he had written home about the fortune that he was bringing.”

“Humph! Waal, your story sounds all right, and I don’t know but what you’ve come to the right shop to get some one to help you get at the wreck. I’ve got a diving outfit and a little money, and I kin raise some more. Now sit down and Zeb will get you a bite to eat, and we’ll talk things over.”

And thus was begun an alliance which was to prove a source of much trouble to the Boy Aviators and their friends in the near future.

CHAPTER XVI.—OFF ON THE “AIR ROUTE.”

To get ashore Frank had first to swim off to the motor boat, for the skiff, as we know, had vanished. He then ran the engine-driven craft in alongside some rocks that sloped down into deep water, and from that elevation the party embarked. A quick run was made to Motthaven, from whence a description of Duval was wired to the metropolitan police, and the local authorities urged out of their usual lethargy by promises of a reward if Duval was found. Late that afternoon the search yielded results in the finding of the abandoned skiff, and the discovery of the hut in which the Daniels had been living since the boys had instituted proceedings against them.

Some evidences of a hasty departure were found, but no clews that would give any idea of whither the fugitives had proceeded. In fact it was only by piecing together some scraps of torn paper that it was discovered that the hut had been used by the Daniels as a refuge.

“Well,” said Dr. Perkins that evening, after they had bidden good-by to Mr. Sterrett and his friend, who had returned to New York, “well, in my opinion the less time we lose in getting to Black Bayou the better it will be, for, to my mind, there is little doubt that Duval means to forestall our friend, Ben Stubbs, in ransacking the wreck.”

The others agreed that this seemed highly probable, and Dr. Perkins made immediate arrangements for a caretaker to occupy quarters on Brig Island during their absence. This done, a return was made to the little settlement, and the next day final preparations were made for the adventurous trip through the air. The Sea Eagle was provisioned, and a light wireless apparatus installed, the stay wires being used as aërials. Of course the instruments were not so strong as those used at the shore station, but it was calculated that they had a capacity of about twenty miles over land, and forty above the sea, depending, of course, a good deal on the wave adjustment and the weather conditions.

Twenty-four hours after the adventurers had started work on the Sea Eagle, the craft was ready for her dash. Ben Stubbs, Pudge Perkins and Billy Barnes were to go to New Orleans, there to await the arrival of the party. Their departure took place amid regretful wails from Pudge, who loudly declaimed:

“Aërials and ant-hills! I don’t see why we can’t go by the Sea Eagle.”

But Dr. Perkins’ word was law and he had decided that the fewer persons who took part in the test the better the chance of success would be, and as Frank and Harry were both experienced aviators he placed great reliance in their aid. The morning after the departure of the New Orleans-bound passengers the caretaker and his family arrived. They were honest folk from the shore, who could be trusted to look after the many valuable devices on the island, and keep curiosity seekers off till the party returned. For Dr. Perkins had decided to use Brig Island as a permanent workshop, and expected, if the Sea Eagle proved a success, to build many craft like her and dispose of them at good prices. The working of the electric fence was explained to the caretaker; but he declared:

“I reckon my old gun will do more to keep undesirables off than any of them electric didoes.”

There was now nothing more to do, the caretaker being duly installed, but to take to the air, in what was, at that date, the most unique aërial craft in existence. For the voyage, beside the provisions and extra fuel and oil, life belts had been provided, and not a detail had been overlooked. It was seven o’clock on a fine, breathless morning when Dr. Perkins gave the order, “Start up the engines!”

A thrill shot through both Frank and Harry at the words. Experienced in aërial adventure as were both boys, they could not but feel that they were embarking on the most adventurous undertaking of their lives.

“We’re off!” cried Harry, as a quiver ran through the craft, and the motor roared from its exhausts, emitting clouds of mingled flame and blue smoke.

“Yes; off on a fight for fame and fortune!” cried Frank, as Dr. Perkins threw in the clutch; and, with her propellers beating the air so rapidly that they were a mere blur, the Sea Eagle shot skyward.

In half an hour’s time, to the watchers on the island, the aërial craft had dwindled to a mere dot in the distant sky, and five minutes later she vanished from view. The boys gave many backward looks as they winged away from Brig Island. Despite their adventures, they had spent many pleasant days there, and it appeared to them to be almost a second home. Of all that they were to experience before returning to the island they little dreamed at the moment, but their hearts beat high with exultation as the Sea Eagle winged her way southward at forty miles an hour, and about five hundred feet above the ocean.

They had been in the air about an hour when they encountered a situation which may become common enough before many years have passed, but which was an exciting novelty to them. Off on the horizon a liner was sighted, steaming toward the American coast. Before long they made her out to be a big, two-funneled craft, painted black, and with numerous decks rising above her shapely hull.

“One of the transatlantic liners that make Portland their terminal,” decided Dr. Perkins.

“Shall I wireless them?” said Harry.

“Yes, do so. It will be an interesting experiment, and besides will show how the apparatus will work.”

Harry lost no time in getting to work. After a brief interval he “raised” the operator on the liner, Dr. Perkins keeping the Sea Eagle swinging in big, lazy circles while he did so.

“We sighted you from the bridge half an hour ago,” flashed the operator, “who and what are you?”

“The hydro-aëroplane Sea Eagle, bound from Maine for New Orleans. Who are you?” flashed back Harry.

“The Ultonia, of the Portland and Liverpool line, eight days out from England,” was the rejoinder; “have you got any American newspapers on board?”

Now it happened that Dr. Perkins had brought some papers of the day before along in his pockets, and at Harry’s request he handed them to him.

“What are you going to do?” asked Frank.

“I was going to suggest that we dive across the Ultonia and deliver the papers,” said Harry; “can we do it, doctor?”

“By all means,” rejoined Dr. Perkins, deeply interested; “flash them a message of what we intend to do so that they may be prepared.”

Harry sent out the message and the operator flashed back a quick “Thanks,” adding the next moment: “Good-by. I’m going to beat it out on deck and watch you.”

Frank, in the meantime, had done the papers up in a compact bundle and weighted them with an empty beef can.

“All ready?” cried Dr. Perkins.

“All ready, sir,” was the prompt reply from the boys.

“Then hold tight. I’m going to make a swift dive.”

The liner was now almost directly underneath the soaring Sea Eagle. Her rails were black with passengers craning their necks upward at the great, man-made bird. From her funnels poured clouds of inky smoke, while her sharp prow cut the water on each side of her bow into sparkling foam. On the bridge were uniformed officers, pointing binoculars and spy glasses aloft, for the operator had communicated the news of what the Sea Eagle was about to do.

Suddenly the watching throngs of ocean travelers saw the Sea Eagle poise in air like a hawk about to pounce. Then down she came, cleaving the air like a falling stone.

A great cry went up from the packed decks. It seemed as if the air craft must perish, that nothing could check her fall, and that she was doomed to plunge headlong into the sea. But in a flash the cry changed to a mighty cheer.

Less than forty feet from the water the Sea Eagle was seen to shoot upward and straight toward the steamer. Like an arrow from a bow the great aërial craft shot whizzing above the liner’s bridge, and under the wireless aërials extending from mast to mast. Just as she roared by above the officers’ heads, like some antedeluvian thunder-lizard, something was seen to fall downward and land on the top of the charthouse. It was the bundle of papers thrown by Harry. A sailor scrambled up and got them, while the crowded decks yelled themselves hoarse.

Then the Sea Eagle soared up high above the mast tips, and Harry seated himself at the wireless once more. Presently to his ears came a message from the speeding liner far below.

“Captain Seabury wishes to congratulate you on the most wonderful feat of the century.”

CHAPTER XVII.—AN AËRIAL AMBULANCE.

The next instant, and while her shrill scream for help still rent the air, a young man who had been standing beside her jumped out into space without waiting to do more than strip off coat and shoes. The Ultonia was speeding ahead at the fastest gait her twin screws were capable of. She was a large vessel, probably some 15,000 tons of registration, and her momentum was too great to stop her for a considerable distance.

From the Sea Eagle horrified eyes saw the accident, and witnessed the young woman’s head bob up for an instant amid the frothy wake of the big craft. The liner’s whistle screamed out a shrill alarm, and men could be seen scampering to lower a boat, while life buoys were thrown overboard.

But before anything more could be done the Sea Eagle took a sudden swoop, a swift dive downward, characteristic of the bird for which she had been named.

The wonderful craft struck the water with a force that sent a cloud of spray boiling up about her, temporarily hiding her substructure and her occupants from view.

“She’s sunk!” went up a moaning cry from the decks of the liner. But, no! An instant later it was seen that the Sea Eagle, an aëroplane no longer but a winged boat, was speeding as fast as her twin propellers could drive her toward the spot where the young woman had last been seen.

Hardly a word, except Dr. Perkins’ caution to “hang on tight,” had been exchanged between the aviators from their simultaneous observation of the accident till the moment the Sea Eagle struck the water. But now orders came quick and fast.

“Attend to the engines!”

The order came from Frank, and Harry sprang into the place his brother vacated.

Frank hastily buckled on one of the life jackets and then, as the Sea Eagle skimmed the water at a twenty-five knot gait, he scanned the seething lane of foam behind the liner. Suddenly he saw what he was looking for. A white, imploring face, crowned with a wealth of golden hair.

“Save me!” screamed the girl who, although she had been swimming, was by this time too exhausted with the effects of her immersion and the weight of her water-soaked clothes, to keep up any longer. Without an instant’s hesitation, Frank leaped into the water and began striking out with powerful strokes for the sinking girl. He reached her side just as she was going down for the third time.