The Boy Aviators' Flight for a Fortune

CHAPTER XXIV.—A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.

First they adopted Frank’s suggestion and donned the life jackets, so that if the worst came to the worst they would have a fighting chance for their lives. When this had been done, Frank, who had had some experience in motor boats, supervised the rigging of a “spray-hood” across the bow. This kept some of the spray out, and, although it was formed of sheets of spare canvas intended to be used as waterproof night coverings, it answered its purpose well enough.

“Do you think that there is a chance of our keeping afloat?” asked Harry when this had been done.

“Well, we appear to be making out all right so far,” rejoined Dr. Perkins; “the wing floats are working well, and if only we can get the engine going again we may be able to fly ashore yet.”

The wing floats referred to were nothing more nor less than the light cylindrical pontoons affixed to each lower wing tip. They acted precisely as “outriggers” would do in steadying the Sea Eagle. In fact, had it not been for this lateral support, the craft must have turned turtle under the terrific tossing she was receiving.

“I’m going right to work on the engine,” announced Frank.

With Harry to help him, the lad proceeded to carry out this purpose. But it was the hardest bit of “trouble finding” he had ever done. The motion of the Sea Eagle, as she was tossed on a wave crest and then hurled into the abyss beyond, made it hard to hold on, let alone investigating the complicated mechanism of a motor. But as time wore on and they still kept afloat, they began to have hopes that they would at least stay on the surface till the engine could be started once more.

One after another Frank made the different tests employed to ascertain the various troubles that may assail a gasolene motor. He tested the ignition, the spark, the gasolene supply and the bearings. Everything appeared to be all right, and he paused in a puzzled way before he went to work on the carburetor. That is a delicate piece of mechanism, even to an ingenious boy like Frank Chester; but he finally concluded that the trouble must lie there. His first task was to open the relief cock and drain the brass bowl of the mixing chamber.

He turned the valve, and the mystery of the stoppage of the engine was instantly explained.

Sand had been placed in the carburetor by persons whom Frank had little difficulty in mentally identifying.

“So that was what those rascals did!” he cried aloud. “No wonder we couldn’t find anything the trouble with the ship. They were too foxy for that, and could hardly have found a better way of injuring the Sea Eagle than to do that.”

“Is there any way of fixing the damage?” asked Dr. Perkins, who, with Harry, had hastened to Frank’s side as he cried out over his discovery.

“Yes. Thank goodness, we’ve got a spare carburetor on board, for it would take a week to clean out this. If no sand has got into the cylinders I think I can promise to get things going again before very long.”

Out of the locker in which the spare parts were kept Frank produced another carburetor. But unscrewing the feed pipe and taking off the old mixing chamber and adjusting the new one were tedious tasks, especially under the circumstances in which Frank was compelled to work. But at last it was done, and with a beating heart Frank adjusted the self-starter. A few seconds now would decide their fate.

Harry shivered in anticipation of failure as his brother, having got the engine going by the just mentioned appliance, turned on the gasolene and spark.

For a breathless instant their fate hung in the balance, and then there came the welcome sound of the exhaust. Bit by bit Frank allowed the speed to increase, till the engine was running at its full capacity of revolutions. But the propellers were not turning, as before testing the motor he had thrown the clutch out of gear.

“I think that we can try to rise now,” he said calmly, after the motor had run without a miss or a skip for ten minutes or so.

“I think so, too,” said Dr. Perkins, “and I want to tell you, Frank, that you have done what I would not have believed possible under the conditions.”

Another anxious moment followed when the clutch was thrown in and the full load of the propellers came upon the engine. But not a hitch occurred. The large-bladed driving fans of the Sea Eagle beat the air rapidly and surely, and the hydroplane-formed underbody began to glide over the tops of the waves, instead of rolling and pitching helplessly among them. To the westward, too, there showed a patch of lighter sky, heralding the passing of the storm.

But, as if unwilling to allow them to escape without again bringing their hearts into their mouths, the storm had one more buffeting to give them. As full power was applied, and the Sea Eagle rose above the tossing wave crests and headed slantingly skyward, there came a sudden puff of wind.

Skillful as Dr. Perkins was, it caught him momentarily unprepared. In the wink of an eye the Sea Eagle careened over, almost on her “beam ends.” It seemed as if the right hand wing tips actually touched the water. One inch more and there might have been an abrupt conclusion to this story, but Dr. Perkins’ hands seemed to be everywhere at once. They flashed among levers and wheels.

For the space of a breath the Sea Eagle hung almost vertically, and then the big craft suddenly righted and shot upward on an even keel once more. But the moment had been an awful one, and as they winged their way upward not one aboard was there but felt that they had been delivered from a dreadful fate by what might well be described as a miracle.

CHAPTER XXV.—A RACE TO CLOUDLAND.

Coming to earth in a high wind is a risky bit of business for the air man, about as dangerous a maneuver, in fact, as can be imagined. But in this case there was no choice for Dr. Perkins and his young friends, unless they wanted to be carried clear across the cape and into Delaware Bay.

Below them they could now see excited crowds racing toward the ball-ground, as soon as it became evident that that was the spot where the air men intended to alight. This did not please Dr. Perkins at all. A crowd was the last thing that he wished to have about when he made his drop earthward. But there was no help for it, and he kept on descending, trusting to the good sense of the throngs below to get out of the way when the time came.

But crowds have never been remarkable for their common sense, and this one was no exception. The last “bank” had been made with safety, and the Sea Eagle was making a clean-cut swoop to earth, when the crowd rushed in right below her. To have kept the craft on its course would have meant much injury, and possible loss of life. On the other hand, Dr. Perkins knew that in the wind that was blowing it would be dangerous in the extreme to the air craft to change her course.

“Get out of the way!” he shouted.

“Out of the way unless you want to get hurt!” yelled Frank and Harry.

But the crowd, like foolish sheep, only stared and gaped, and made not the slightest effort to avoid the on-driving Sea Eagle.

There was only one thing to do, and Dr. Perkins did it. There was a quick twist of his steering wheel, and the Sea Eagle, instantly obeying her helm, darted off in an opposite direction to the one in which she had been advancing. Like a flash Dr. Perkins pulled the rising lever, at the same time shouting to Frank to stop the engines momentarily. He thought that the Sea Eagle would rise of her own volition, and knew that if the engines kept driving at top speed that his craft would be plunged prow first into the earth.

So he chose the lesser of the two evils, and the maneuver might have been successful but for one thing. There was not room in which to execute it.

The Sea Eagle hesitated, half rose, and then crashed down to the ground, landing heavily on one wing tip and smashing it to bits. Frank and Harry were pitched clean out of the hydroplane substructure when the impact came, and a cry of alarm went up from the crowd. But Dr. Perkins clung to his seat and brought the big craft to a stop.

Fortunately neither Frank nor Harry had been much injured, beyond being badly shaken up and bruised, and they were both on their feet again in a jiffy after the accident. The crowd, as if realizing that its actions had had a good deal to do with the accident, forebore to press in, and they made their way to Dr. Perkins’ side without difficulty.

“Is she much injured?” was Frank’s first question.

“By good luck I think we have escaped serious damage,” rejoined Dr. Perkins, “but only an examination can tell.”

At this moment a well-dressed, prosperous-looking man came elbowing through the crowd. He came straight up to Dr. Perkins with hand extended.

“Well, Perkins!” he exclaimed. “I always told you you’d have a tumble some time, and now you’ve had it; right in my back yard, too. But I’m sincerely glad to see that neither you nor your machine appears to be much injured.”

The newcomer was Mr. James Studley, an old acquaintance of the inventor’s, who was summering at Cape May. The doctor was very glad to see him and accepted his cordial invitation to spend the night at his house, the boys, of course, being included in the invitation.

In the meantime, a squadron of police had arrived, who drove back the crowds, and arrangements were made to keep a guard on duty all night till an examination of the wrecked machine could be made.

“The accident, if it had to happen, could not have occurred more conveniently, so to speak,” Dr. Perkins confided to his companions as they followed Mr. Studley to a handsome house not far away. “Mr. Studley is a manufacturer of aëroplanes, and has started a factory here, so that very probably we can get material to repair our damages without much trouble.”

This was good news indeed to the boys, who had begun to fear that the trip might be abandoned.

They enjoyed a good dinner and a change into dry clothes as the guests of Mr. Studley and his wife, and bright and early the next morning repairs were made to the splintered wing tip, which was not so badly damaged as had at first appeared. Mr. Studley, who had provided workmen and materials for the task from his aëroplane factory, refused to hear of any compensation.

“Such services should be rendered freely and gladly by one birdman to another,” he declared laughingly. “Who knows that some day I may not drop in on you at your island, in more senses than one.”

As every trace of the storm had vanished, and the morning was bright and clear, no obstacle opposed itself to the continuance of their journey as soon as the repairs had been completed. So fine was the weather, in fact, that Mr. Studley declared his intention of accompanying them in a light “runabout” aëroplane of the monoplane class, for a short distance.

The machine, a pretty little affair of the Bleriot type, was soon wheeled out, and Mr. Studley declared all was ready for the start. As on the evening before, a large crowd had gathered, but the police kept them back, and gave the two vastly different aëroplanes a clear field in which to rise. A greater contrast could not well be imagined than that presented by the heavy, rather cumbersome-looking Sea Eagle with her substantial underbody and huge wing spread, and the trim, dainty little monoplane, which was named the Green Firefly.

“We’re all ready when you are,” exclaimed Dr. Perkins, turning to his friend, who was already seated in his long-bodied, gauzy-winged air craft.

“All right! Clear the way!” cried Mr. Studley with a wave of his hands.

His mechanics gave the propeller of the monoplane a twirl, as it was not provided with self-starting mechanism, and a moment later the roaring fusillade of the Sea Eagle’s motor was drowning the sharp, angry, hornet-like buzzing of the Green Firefly.

“Go!” yelled Mr. Studley, and simultaneously, as it seemed, the two sky ships dashed forward over the smooth sward.

“Hooray!” shouted the crowd.

“They’re off!” shouted others.

And then, a minute later:

“Look! They’re going up!”

“So they are!” cried the spectators, as if there was any room for doubt about the matter.

The light Firefly was first, by the fraction of a second, to point her sharp nose up toward the tranquil blue dome of the sky. But the Sea Eagle was not tardy in following.

“Come on!” shouted Mr. Studley, casting a swift glance back over his shoulder at his large comrade of the air. He appeared to think that he would have little difficulty in distancing the huge machine.

“We haven’t begun yet!” cried Dr. Perkins back to him, with an answering wave of the hand.

Nor was the Sea Eagle as yet making a quarter of the speed she was capable of. On account of her great weight, and general size of her wing spread, it was not advisable to “open everything up” at once when she made an ascent from the land.

The Firefly darted ahead like some creature that rejoiced to be sporting in its element. But close behind came a roar and whirr as Frank let out another notch on the Sea Eagle. Up and up they flew, while the crowd below dwindled to pigmies, and the houses looked like so many toy Noah’s Arks. It was plain enough that Mr. Studley was engaged in a good-natured effort to show his friend that the Firefly was an infinitely faster craft than her cumbersome rival. He darted this way and that, making spirals and doing rocking-chair evolutions with the perfection of aërial grace.

Dr. Perkins attempted none of these stunts, but from time to time he turned back to Frank and nodded as a signal to give the craft a little more power.

By the time the twin propellers were developing their top push and speed, the owner of the Firefly realized that he had a tussle on his hands. He ceased his graceful evolutions and settled down to real flying. But he had not gone a mile over the aërial race track before the Sea Eagle thundered past him like a “Limited” of the skies.

“Good-by and thank you!” Dr. Perkins found time to yell, as they flashed past, bound due south once more.

“Good-by. Good luck to you!” came from Mr. Studley, as he waved his hand in the realization that he was beaten.

There was no time to exchange more words. In a few minutes the boys, looking back, could only see a black speck like a shoe button against the sky to mark where the defeated Firefly was turning about and heading for home.

As for the Sea Eagle, at sixty miles an hour, and with her motor going faster every minute, that staunch and speedy craft was winging her way at top speed for her distant goal.

CHAPTER XXVI.—THE BOY AVIATORS’ PLUCK.

Many interesting incidents, which it would require another volume to chronicle in detail, marked the trip. Off Savannah the Sea Eagle towed a disabled motor boat, containing a pleasure party, into port, and a short time later flew above the Atlantic squadron of the United States fleet bound south for target practice. Aërial greetings were exchanged by wireless between the Sea Eagle and Uncle Sam’s bulldogs of the ocean.

The next day the Sea Eagle was once more enabled to render aërial ambulance service by taking an injured keeper from a lighthouse off Fernandina into port, and arranging for a substitute to be sent out at once. At every city they stopped they received a great reception, for by this time the flight of the Sea Eagle had received the attention of the country through the medium of the newspapers.

Possibly one incident may be worth chronicling in more detail. This occurred when, a short time after rising for a night flight from Eufala, Alabama, to the Mississippi State line, Frank descried, through some trees, what he thought was the rising moon.

“That’s the funniest-looking moon I ever saw,” declared Harry, who happened to be doing duty as engineer.

“Why, what’s the matter with it?” demanded Frank.

“Why, it’s red.”

“Probably caused by the mist from some marshlands,” decided Dr. Perkins, who was resting, while Frank guided the Sea Eagle, at which he had become quite expert. But the next moment he changed his opinion.

“It isn’t the moon at all. It’s the glare from a fire, and a big one, too. Let’s hurry up, boys.”

Neither Frank nor Harry needed any urging, and the Sea Eagle was soon traversing the air so fast that the wind sang in their ears. As they raced along the glare grew brighter and angrier, glowing with a lambent red core from which flames could be seen leaping skyward like a nest of fiery serpents.

A few minutes brought them into full view of the conflagration. It proved to be a fine old farm-house. The front of the place was a mass of flame, and the blaze appeared to be bursting through the roof. Men could be seen running about the grounds like a nest of disturbed ants, and others were hastening on foot, in autos and in buggies, from every direction.

Nobody paid any attention to the oncoming aëroplane in the excitement, and when it dropped to earth on the lawn in front of the blazing building, there was the liveliest sort of confusion. Some of the farmers did not know what to make of the visitor from the skies, but their more enlightened neighbors soon informed them, and recalled the newspaper accounts they had read of the Sea Eagle’s great flight.

“Anybody in the building?” shouted Frank, jumping from the Sea Eagle as the craft came to a standstill.

Nobody answered for a moment, but suddenly, from the back of the building, came a piercing scream.

“Help! Help!”

“Goodness, that’s a woman calling!” exclaimed Frank. “Come on, Harry.”

Both boys dashed round to the rear of the blazing mansion, and there, at a third-story window, they saw a woman with a baby in her arms, leaning out and frantically calling for help.

“Get a ladder!” shouted Frank.

“No time to hunt for it,” cried Harry. “We’ll have to try another way.”

“What do you mean?”

“See the flat roof of that coach house over there? If we had a board we could make a bridge from it to the window.”

“But how are we to get to the roof of the coach house?”

“Fly there.”

“What! in the Sea Eagle?”

“Why not? The roof is flat and big enough to give us room to land if we are careful.”

“Cracky! I think you’re right. Has anybody got a board?”

“Here you are,” exclaimed a man who had darted off to a lumber pile when he overheard Harry’s plan.

“Good! I think this will be long enough. Come on, Harry, let’s lose no time. See, the flames are almost at that part of the house.”

At top speed the two boys ran back to the Sea Eagle, calling to Dr. Perkins to join them. Hastily they explained what they meant to do. Dr. Perkins was inclined to doubt if the plan was feasible, but as it appeared to be the only way to save the woman and the child, he agreed to attempt it, grave though the risk of disaster to the Sea Eagle appeared to be.

While the excited men gathered about, and the woman’s cries still filled the air, the Sea Eagle was started up, and after circling about, dropped to the coach house roof. The big craft landed without mishap, but Frank reversed the engines barely in time to prevent her from rolling off. However, with the front wheels of the substructure on the very brink of the cornice, the Sea Eagle came obediently to a standstill.

They had brought the board with them, and it was shoved across to the woman, who saw at once what they intended to do. She secured it to the ledge of the window at which she had been standing, and Frank worked his way across the plank bridge and took the child in his arms. He recrossed in safety with it, and then came the woman’s turn to trust herself to the frail bridge. But she hesitated till smoke was pouring into the room, and then, fairly driven to try the slender support, she began to cross it.

From the coach house roof the boys called encouragingly to her, for the plank was far too weak to bear the weight of two persons. Even under Frank and the baby it had sagged ominously. Something in the woman’s face as she neared the end of her journey caused Frank to reach out toward her. It was well that he had the foresight to do so, for as she reached the end of her journey she suddenly fainted.

Another instant and she would have fallen forty feet to the ground, but Frank caught her dress in a strong grip. Luckily, it was of stout material and did not rip as he seized it. Dr. Perkins and Harry came to his aid the next minute, and with their united strength they managed to draw the woman’s limp form to safety.

Hardly had they done so before the flames began breaking out fiercely from the back of the house, and, driven by the strong wind, they were uncomfortably close to the coach house roof. No time was lost in placing the woman and her infant in the Sea Eagle, after which the air craft was started. Dr. Perkins rose to a suitable height from which to make a safe descent, and then swept down to the ground, carrying the first woman and child in the history of the world to be saved from a blazing building by aëroplane.

The woman soon recovered after some friends of the neighborhood had taken her and her child to a nearby dwelling.

The owner of the building, and the husband of the woman who had been so bravely rescued, now came bustling up, his face beaming with gratitude. At the moment he was not thinking of the fire but of the brave strangers from the sky who had saved his wife and child.

“I don’t know who you are, or where you came from,” he exclaimed, “but you literally dropped from the skies when all hope appeared lost. I was in town buying stock, and on my way out I saw the flames coming from my home. Knowing my wife and child had retired I dreaded to think what would have happened if they had not been aroused. I arrived here in time to find my worst fears realized. How can I ever thank you for what you have done?”

“Oh, we only tried to do what we could,” said Frank modestly; “we saw the fire and came down to see if we couldn’t help.”

“I owe the lives of my wife and child to your quickness and courage, and that wonderful airship of yours,” vehemently declared the man, whose name was Winfield Thomas, a wealthy farmer. “It was a real blessing you happened along as you did.”

Dr. Perkins and the boys could only repeat how glad they were to have done what they could. Without waiting much longer, except to congratulate Mrs. Thomas on her quick recovery, and to express the hope that she would feel no bad effects from her experience, the voyage was shortly resumed. But the adventure at the burning farm house long remained in the boys’ memory, and strengthened their attachment to the Sea Eagle.

Nearing New Orleans they caught a wireless message from Billy Barnes telling them that he had secured quarters for the Sea Eagle in Algiers, a suburb across the river from the city. That night one stage of the trip was concluded when, in answer to a signal given with a blue lamp, they dropped into a field on the outskirts of Algiers and housed the Sea Eagle in a large barn.

“Thunder and turtles!” cried Pudge when that night in the St. Charles Hotel they were relating their adventures. “You fellows have all the fun and we do all the work.”

“Never mind, Pudge,” said Frank; “I guess we’ll have adventures in plenty ahead of us when we try to locate the wreck of the Belle of New Orleans.”

“Which will be as soon as possible,” said Dr. Perkins. “Our trip has taken us longer than I anticipated, and there is a strong chance that Duval may have got ahead of us.”

“There’s another reason for hurrying,” declared Billy, who had just wired to his paper a long account of the Sea Eagle’s trip; “they say that the river is rising. There have been unprecedented rainstorms and the levees are weakening. Negroes are at work on them all along the line, but they doubt if they can make them hold if the river keeps rising.”

CHAPTER XXVII.—CAPTURED BY AËROPLANE.

“Trust an old timer, sir, for remembering those things,” he said.

“Indeed, nobody could have selected a more complete outfit,” rejoined Dr. Perkins.

The inventory of the goods was taken the next morning, and hiring a boat the stuff was transported to Algiers, where the Sea Eagle had been looked after over night by a couple of darkies.

As they crossed the river in a hired boat they noticed how swiftly the current ran and how discolored it was. The negro who rowed them commented on it, too.

“Dey be po’ful big flood befo’ long, genelmen,” he opined, “an’ when ole man Mississip’ git up on his hind lags ain’t nuffin’ kin stop him. Dem lebees dey go jes lak so much straw er hay.”

“All the more reason for our making haste,” said Dr. Perkins, addressing the others; “it would be hard fortune indeed if Ben were to be robbed of his fortune by a flood.”

The shed which had sheltered the Sea Eagle overnight was close to the water’s edge so that the goods were soon transported on board. All was found to be in good shape, and the two darkies, who had watched the air craft overnight, received an extra gratuity for their pains. The adventurers had been particular not to give out any details of their flight, and it was expected that they would stay in New Orleans for some days before proceeding, so that no curious crowd, only a few negroes and stragglers, were on hand to see them start.

Dr. Perkins had an excellent chart of the river, showing distinctly the location of Black Bayou, which lay back from the river amidst a maze of other wriggly creeks and water courses. The Belle of New Orleans had been on her way to a “far back” plantation to pick up cotton, when she blew up, which accounted for the wreck being submerged in such an out of the way place.

As they flew along the river, but far above it, they could see human beings, busy as ants, working along the levees, strengthening them against the dreaded floods which already had devastated whole sections of country in Ohio and farther up the mighty stream. At length the course of the Sea Eagle was changed till she was flying over a perfect maze of water courses and bayous, winding in and out of a dense forest. From above, it looked like a lace work of water overlying a piece of dark green plush.

But the map showed a landmark for Black Bayou. Harry’s plan was marked “Ruined plantation house and sugar mill.” Frank was the first to spy out this important “bearing.” The Sea Eagle was at that time not very far up, and the gaunt walls and desolate overgrown buildings of the once prosperous place could be seen clearly. “Giant cypress with three forks,” was the next marking, and, sure enough, on a little patch of an island, not far from the ruined plantation, they presently saw a gaunt dead tree answering this description.

“Bayous and bullfrogs! We’re getting hot now!” cried Pudge excitedly. “Ben, I believe that that rascal was telling the truth after all.”

“I’m inclined to think so, too, Master Pudge,” rejoined Ben; “and look—look there—that must be the Catfish Island marked on the plan. See, it’s just the shape of one of them critters.”

“So it is, Ben,” cried Frank, peering down. “Goodness, this is exciting, though. Just think, in a short time we shall know if our flight for a fortune is——”

“A fizzle or not,” interrupted the slangy Pudge.

“Right off Catfish Island two points to the north,” read out Harry.

Dr. Perkins glanced at the compass and slightly altered the direction of the Sea Eagle; then he allowed the great craft to drop gently to rest on the waters of Black Bayou.

Harry referred to the plan again.

“North a hundred yards to the Lone Pine Island.”

“There it is,” cried Frank, indicating a small spot of land on which a dead pine reared its bare trunk.

Hardly had he spoken when a canoe shot round a bend in a small bayou just ahead of them, and a wild-looking man, who had been paddling it, checked his frail craft. His unkempt whiskers covered him almost to his waist, and his clothes were ragged to a degree. But none of them thought of this as the swamp dweller so unexpectedly came into view.

“Is this the Black Bayou?” they cried almost in chorus.

The other nodded and stared wildly and half in alarm at the strange-looking craft that confronted him.

“Oui! Thees Black Bayou,” he rejoined in soft, broken accents; “what you want, eh?”

“Did you ever hear tell of the Belle of New Orleans?” asked Ben, in a voice that shook with suppressed excitement.

To his astonishment the Acadian—for the weird figure in the boat was one of those strange dwellers of the cypress swamps—burst into a loud laugh.

“Oh ho! Oh ho!” he cackled; “what you want wid zee Belle of New Orleans, eh? What you want weez her?”

Ben hesitated, and before he could reply the other burst into another weird cackling laugh, and held up a small object.

“You want zee pearl, zee gold, hey? Zey all gone! See, I have one. Zee men who come here two day ago give it me for help zem. Adieu!”

Before anybody on the Sea Eagle could utter a word the fellow gave a deft stroke of his paddle and his canoe shot off into the trackless paths of the swamps.

“Well, what under the sun!” burst out Frank, while Pudge weakly ejaculated:

“Centipedes and spongecakes!”

“It’s all clear enough,” exclaimed Ben bitterly. “Those ruffians got ahead of us. That ’Cadian took them to the scene of the wreck and they’ve rifled it.”

“That was undoubtedly a black pearl he held up,” said Dr. Perkins in a faint voice. “I suppose they gave him that for guiding them here.”

The sudden shriek of a high-crested kingfisher made them look up suddenly. The bird was darting from tree to tree on an island at a little distance. Suddenly something that lay at the foot of a tree caught Ben’s sharp eyes.

“What’s that? That glittering thing yonder?” he exclaimed, pointing.

“Easy enough to see,” said Dr. Perkins, starting up the Sea Eagle for the little island.

“It’s a diving helmet!” cried Frank as they drew closer to the object, “just look, the rascals must have left it there after they got the treasure out of the sunken wreck. I guess they thought that as they were so rich they need not bother with it.”

They landed on the island as disconsolate and downcast a band of treasure hunters as ever set foot on the site of a treasure trove. Abundant evidences of a camp were all about them. The ashes of a fire, and scraps of food and paper. One of these caught Frank’s attention. It was a fragment of newspaper, and what had challenged Frank’s notice was that a band of red ink had been drawn around some printing on it. Frank read the marked portion with a somewhat vague curiosity. For the moment he did not realize what an important clew he had stumbled upon. Then it rushed upon him with full force.

Ben and the others were on the shore of the island pointing down into the muddy waters of the bayou.

The earth was trampled in the vicinity, and showed plainly that the miscreants who had stolen the treasure had carried on their operations from that point of the bank.

“Down thar somewhar’ lies the wreck of the Belle of New Orleans,” said Ben, shaking his head dolefully, and pointing into the black current; “but it ain’t going to do us no good, mates. It ain’t going to do us no good; them sea skunks has got ahead of us for fair.”

It was at this point that Frank’s shout interrupted them.

“What is it?” cried Dr. Perkins.

“This paper. Come here. I think it’s a clew to where they have gone.”

They crowded about him while Frank read out from the marked paper.

“‘The new South American Commerce Company’s steamer Buenos Aires sails to-morrow for the latter port. She is a fast, capable craft and will make a direct run to the Argentine. The inauguration of this service is a distinct addition to the commercial importance of New Orleans and establishes new trade relations with South America.’”

“Very pretty,” said Ben; “but what does it prove?”

“Yes, I don’t see much of a clew in that,” put in Harry.

But Frank raised his hand to command silence.

“Listen a minute,” he said. “Of course, I may be altogether wrong, but it seems to me that the reason this paragraph is marked is because those fellows meant to sail on this very boat.”

Ben brought his hand down on his knee with a resounding whack.

“By hookey, lad!” he roared; “that’s reason. That’s solid sense and reason.”

“What is the date of that paper?” asked Dr. Perkins.

“Luckily the paragraph was torn off from the top of the page,” said Frank, “and the date of the issue is legible. It is dated yesterday.”

“Then the Buenos Aires sailed this morning?”

“Yes; that’s the way it looks.”

“And while we are wasting time here she is heading down the river for the open sea,” groaned Harry.

“Can’t we wireless to New Orleans and find out?” asked Pudge.

“That’s a mighty good idea, Pudge,” said his father, “but the set we have on the Sea Eagle wouldn’t carry as far as that.”

“Then let’s get on board again and fly back as quickly as possible. We are only wasting time here,” said Frank.

His suggestion was quickly acted upon, and the voyagers reëmbarked. They were a very different party from the pleasantly excited expedition that had set out that morning so full of hope and enterprise. Frank alone kept up his spirits. He sat constantly at the wireless as they winged their way back to New Orleans, incessantly trying to get into communication.

At last he caught the operator of the Harbor Master’s office. Instantly he flashed his query:

“Did Buenos Aires sail this a. m.?”

“Yes. Ship sailed early to-day.”

“Where will she be now?”

“About off Fort Jackson, near the mouth of the river,” came the reply. “She has wireless, but it is out of order, so that I can’t tell you exactly where she is right now.”

“Thanks!” flashed Frank and disconnected.

He quickly communicated his tidings, and immediately a hasty, excited consultation followed. The result of it was that Dr. Perkins decided to ground the Sea Eagle in Algiers. This done, Ben would swear out a warrant before the most available justice, and then, if they could find a deputy nervy enough to make the trip, he was to be taken on board the Sea Eagle and the Buenos Aires overtaken before she got beyond the jurisdiction of the State.

But after landing in Algiers these plans were changed. It was decided instead to swear out a federal warrant, as there was grave danger of the ship getting out of the State’s power before they could overtake her. On the extraordinary circumstances being related to him, the U. S. Commissioner at New Orleans readily granted the warrant for the arrest of all three of the rascals. It now remained only to find a Deputy U. S. Marshal courageous enough to make the trip through the air.

The only one available seemed a bit doubtful.

“A trip in an aëroplane!” he said. “I’ve never taken such a journey and I’m scared of the blessed things. You see, I’ve got a wife and family, and——”

“Don’t be afraid. There’s really no danger, and we’ll be over water most of the way,” urged Dr. Perkins.

The deputy seemed to come to a sudden conclusion. His eyes snapped and his lips tightened.

“All right, I’ll go with you!” he suddenly cried. “Wait till I ’phone the missus and I’m your man. Those rascals played you a mean trick, and I’d like to see you win out.”

The hearts of the adventurers gave a bound of hope. There was a chance of seeing justice come into its own, after all.

The Buenos Aires, a fine ship of five thousand or more tons, dropped rapidly down the river. She had few cabin passengers, and of these only three were on deck. The remainder were in their cabins putting their belongings to rights.

These three men were the elder Daniels, his loutish son and Duval. But they all wore smart new clothes, and Duval had shaved off his mustache. As for the two Daniels, it is an example of what clothes can do to say that they looked more like prosperous, rather countryfied commission dealers than rugged fishermen from Maine.

“Let’s have a look at them pearls again,” Daniels was saying, after he had given a cautious glance about him to make sure they were not observed.

Duval reached into his pocket and drew out a canvas bag. From it he poured out a number of black, lustrous objects, catching them in a cupped hand.

“Twenty of the beauties,” he exclaimed; “twenty black pearls—the rarest gems that come out of the ocean.”

“What are they worth again?” asked the elder Daniels, licking his lips anticipatively.

“Thirty thousand dollars at the least.”

“Jiminy! Hold me, some one!” sputtered Zeb.

“And that, counting the gold dust in the cabin, makes a fortune of close upon seventy-five thousand dollars we got out of that old hulk, don’t it?”

“That’s right,” answered Duval; “you fellows did a good day’s work for yourselves when you knocked me on the head in that hut.”

“Waal, I should say so. Let’s go below and look at that gold again. I kin hardly keep my fingers frum touching it. We’re rich, boys, we’re rich!”

The three worthies disappeared below after Duval had carefully replaced the black pearls in their bag. It was some hours later when they came up again and the ship was passing the Port Ead’s light.

“We’re safe now,” exclaimed Duval in a low tone; “even if they do discover the trick we’ve put up on em, they could never catch us now. In another two hours we’ll be out on the gulf and by to-morrow we’ll be out of reach of any one in Yankeeland.”

“Hulloo, what’s up astern?” asked Zeb suddenly. “What are they all pointing at?”

“Pointing at? What do you mean?” demanded Duval, suspicious as are most guilty consciences of anything unusual.

“Something in the sky. Hark! They are shouting!”

“Something in the sky!”

Duval’s face went white. His knees shook. By a flash of guilty intuition he had guessed what that something was, even if the next minute a shout had not split the air.

“An aëroplane! It’s an aëroplane!”

Duval’s knees quivered under him. He trembled like a man with the palsy. Old Daniels came up to him hastily.

“Duval, they’ve sighted one of them airyoplanes—you don’t think——”

“No, I don’t think. I know,” choked out Duval, “they are after us. Hark!”

From the distance came the sound of shots high up in the air. In reply to the signal—for such it was—the Buenos Aires’ whistle emitted three long, mournful toots. Her engines began to slow down. As Duval felt the steamer’s speed check he dashed below to his cabin. As for Daniels, he stood rooted to the spot, his lips moving, but no speech coming from them. Zeb was nowhere to be seen.

Up on the Buenos Aires’ lofty flying bridge her officers, in the meantime, had been almost equally excited. They had seen the aëroplane some time before; but as nowadays such craft are a fairly common sight, they had not paid overmuch attention to it. It was not till the unusual size of the craft was revealed that they scrutinized it closely.

Then, as the big winged man-bird swung above the steamer’s masts, had come the quick six pistol shots. An imperative signal, rightly interpreted “Stop!”

The whistle had replied and the vessel’s way been checked as the jangling signals sounded in the engine-room, and “Slow down” flashed up on the telegraph.

“What do you want?” hailed the captain through a megaphone, as the Sea Eagle—for of course our readers have guessed the identity of the craft of the air—swung above him.

“We want to board you with a United States warrant!” came the startling reply from midair.

“A warrant! For some of my passengers?”

“Yes; for three men whom we have reason to believe booked passage as Daniel Maine and son and another one who calls himself Francis Le Blanc.”

“I have three such men on board and recognize the authority of the United States. How will you board me?”

“We’ll come alongside.”

The captain looked as if he didn’t understand how this was going to be done, but gave orders to stop the ship, drop anchor and lower the gangway. This was done, and the Sea Eagle dropped to the water alongside with perfect precision. In the meantime, the wildest excitement reigned on board. Rumors flew thick and fast as to the errand of the men from the air.

Lest it should be wondered how Dr. Perkins and his companions knew the names under which the three rascals had sailed, we had better clear this matter up. Before embarking in the Sea Eagle in pursuit of the Buenos Aires, a passenger list had been obtained from the offices of the steamship company. It will be recalled that Francis Le Blanc was the alias, or false name, which Duval had used when in the employ of Mr. Sterrett on the yacht Wanderer. This gave them a clew, and when they came across the names Daniel Maine and son, booked for an adjoining cabin, there remained small doubt that those names concealed the two Daniels.

The Sea Eagle was soon made fast, and Marshal Howell, followed by Dr. Perkins and the two Boy Aviators, sprang up the gangway. The others they had been compelled to leave behind, as, with the three prisoners to carry back, the Sea Eagle would have been overcrowded.

As they reached the top of the gangway Captain Stow and his officers advanced to meet them.

“To what am I indebted for the honor of this visit?” asked the seaman.

The marshal showed his authority and his warrant.

“We don’t wish to detain you longer than necessary, captain,” he said, “so will you have us shown to their cabins?”

The captain himself led the way below, and conducted them down a corridor to the stern of the ship. As they reached the end of the passage a door was thrust suddenly open and a bullet whizzed past Frank’s head. At the same instant Zeb’s figure appeared in the doorway.

But before he could fire another shot the marshal had wrested the pistol from him and burst into the cabin. Frank was close behind him. At a port hole was Duval; he had something in his hand and was just about to hurl it out of the port hole, when Frank, in one bound, was at his side and had his arm captive. With a snarl like a wounded wild beast Duval turned on him, whipping out a knife as he did so. But before any harm could be done, Dr. Perkins seized and disarmed him.

It was speedily found that the bag which Frank had saved was the one containing the black pearls which Duval, in his extremity, had determined to throw away rather than let any one else gain their possession. The Marshal slipped the handcuffs on Zeb and Duval, who submitted sullenly to arrest. It was not till then that their thoughts turned to the elder Daniels. He was not in his cabin, and search of the ship failed to reveal him. The mystery was soon to be explained, however.

A boat with a colored oarsman had been lying alongside the steamer waiting to take off the pilot. In the confusion old Daniels had opened the bag of gold dust, selected a packet, and, dropping into the boat, told the negro to row him ashore to secure help for the officers. The negro naturally supposed that he was acting under proper instructions, and put the old fisherman ashore. He was never heard of again.

Zeb and Duval sullenly refused to utter a word, but ultimately, after their return to New Orleans, Frank had an interview with Duval in his prison cell, in which he made a clean breast of everything. From Bayhaven they had hastened south by fast trains, stopping on the way to buy diving dress. The Acadian whom the boys had encountered in the swamps had guided them to the scene of the wreck, receiving one black pearl as his reward.

Of the voyage back from the Buenos Aires with the two prisoners not much can be said. It was made at a good rate of speed, and both Duval and Zeb were docile. Indeed, there was no use in their being otherwise. On account of his youth and the pleadings of Dr. Perkins and the boys, Zeb got a light sentence in a reformatory institution, and it is hoped that he will prove a far better character when he gets out. Duval was more severely dealt with, but even he got off more lightly than he deserved, thanks to the clemency of the people he had wronged.

And so ends the story of the Boy Aviators’ Flight for a Fortune in the most wonderful aëroplane constructed up to date. But no doubt, in the rapid march of events, even the Sea Eagle will soon be surpassed. Already, while this book goes to press, plans are being made by no less than four separate aviators to dare the terrors of a transatlantic passage. Whether they will succeed or not is in the lap of the future, but the author is certain that some day flights across “The Pond” at seventy or eighty miles an hour will be so common as to attract but small attention.

Some of my readers doubtless wish to know how Ben disposed of his fortune. Well, part of it he wisely invested in real estate, and the rest he is thinking of putting into the company Dr. Perkins has formed to manufacture Sea Eagles. Mr. Sterrett is a member of the company, and so are the Boy Aviators. Naturally Ben’s keen wish to have them share some of his good fortune was refused, for, as we know, the Boy Aviators’ adventures in the past had netted them a good share of this world’s goods. Billy Barnes is publicity agent at a good salary for the Sea Eagle Company, Ltd., and the work just suits his tastes. As for Pudge, he is as hard a worker as anybody at the plant on Brig Island, learning the business “from the bottom up.”

And so, wishing them well in their future undertakings, we will here take leave for the present of our friends, until we hear of them again in the next volume, entitled “The Boy Aviators with the Air Raiders.”