Silence greeted the reading of the message—silence at first, and then, as the import of the appeal came home to the crowd, there were murmurs of surprise and despair.
“Blown out to sea!” exclaimed Jerry. “How could they be over the ocean so soon after leaving here? They must have travelled at a terrific rate.”
“You forget,” said Bob, “that we’re within a few miles of New York, and not far from the sea. It’s only a short distance to the ocean.”
“That’s right,” agreed Ned. “And if they’re in a hurricane of the upper air they may be swept along for several days.”
“But we must help them!” exclaimed Professor Snodgrass, who had temporarily abandoned his pursuit after specimens and had joined his friends in the crowd. “They have appealed to us all for aid.”
“That’s right!” cried several. “We must go to the rescue. We must send out a relief expedition. Notify the naval authorities, and have a swift torpedo boat sent out to pick them up in case they fall into the sea. All ship captains should be notified by wireless.”
“I’ll attend to that part of it,” promised the wireless operator who was stationed on the aviation grounds.
“But in which direction are they being blown?” asked Jerry. “Which way should the ships look for them? Did the message say?”
The operator shook his head.
“It just says that they are being blown out to sea,” he replied.
“Quick!” cried Ned. “Get into communication with them again! Call them on the wireless and ask which way they are being blown.”
“That’s it!” shouted several in the crowd.
The operator made a jump for his instruments, and soon there was snapping through the air of the wireless waves, directed toward the runaway and disabled balloon.
There were several minutes of anxious waiting, while the crackling sounds could plainly be heard, so quiet was it. Suddenly Ned uttered a cry.
“What’s the matter?” asked Bob.
“Mr. Jackson!” replied the merchant’s son. “Mr. Jackson is on that disabled balloon. He is being blown out to sea and he may never be rescued. Then my father’s business will fail! Oh, what luck—what fearful luck we’ve had since we set out to find him! We can’t seem to get in touch with him, and every day’s delay makes it worse for poor dad!”
“By Jove!” exclaimed Jerry, “that’s so! I forgot for the moment that we need to see Mr. Jackson, and he’s on that balloon, over the ocean. I guess——”
Jerry was interrupted by the reappearance of the wireless operator. There was a despondent look on the man’s face.
“Did you hear from them?” cried Bob.
The man shook his head.
“It’s of no use,” he answered. “I called and called, and finally I did manage to pick them up; I started to ask them their direction, but their operator broke in on me.”
“What did he say?” demanded Jerry.
“Just one word,” was the answer, “just one word—‘help!’ That’s all.”
Once more came an ominous silence.
“Well, why don’t we send help?” suddenly asked a man in the throng. “Here we are at a balloon and aviation meet, and one of the aircraft needs help. There are several balloons on hand, and any number of aeroplanes. Why don’t some of them start out to sea, and try to find Mr. Jackson and his crowd?”
“That’s the stuff! Go to the rescue!” was the general cry.
It was a most practical suggestion, but when it came to the matter of applying it, trouble developed at once. Inquiries were made among the several balloonists and aviators as to which craft would be the best to send to aid the unfortunate men, who might, perhaps, even then, be in danger of death.
“Send the big balloon North America,” said the man who had made the suggestion.
“I can’t go in her,” replied the pilot of the aircraft. “Mine isn’t a dirigible, and I’m at the mercy of the wind when I get up. An aeroplane is what you need.”
“There’s the New Yorker!” came from several, and they started toward the shed where a large biplane, capable of carrying four passengers, was housed.
“No use,” answered the owner of that craft. “I wouldn’t dare go over the ocean in her.”
“Why not?” asked Ned eagerly. For more reasons than one he wanted to see Mr. Jackson rescued.
“In the first place, my craft is not reliable enough,” was the reply. “I might take a tumble into the sea myself. Then, again, I can’t carry gasolene enough for a long flight, and, even if I did sight the Manhattan I couldn’t do the people on her any good.”
“Why not?” again demanded the man who had made the suggestion. “Didn’t the steamer Trent rescue Wellman and his crew from the dirigible balloon America at sea?”
“They did,” was the reply, “but the Trent could come to a stop. I can’t come to a stop without falling into the sea. What is needed is a balloon or aeroplane that can remain stationary in the air.”
As if by common consent the eyes of nearly every person in the crowd were turned toward the motor boys. Their craft which had been put through her paces that day, travelling on the water as well as through the air—which had come to a halt while nearly a mile high and had floated as easily as a feather—that craft—the Comet seemed to offer a solution of the problem. The boys felt it themselves, and perhaps only their modesty had prevented them from offering their services before.
“Say!” cried the man who seemed to have taken charge of matters, “I guess it’s up to you boys! Will you go to the rescue?”
He addressed himself to Jerry. The tall lad glanced at his companions. They nodded their heads in assent. As for Professor Snodgrass there was an eager look on his face.
“Go! Go!” he whispered to Jerry. “It’s the very chance I need to get my singing fish.”
Jerry hesitated but a moment longer.
“Very well,” he answered, “we’ll go.”
“Good!” cried the man who had taken the initiative. Later the boys learned that he was Mr. Durkin, manager of the meet. “That’s the way to talk, boys! Here we have a whole lot of aircraft, and only one really fit for practical work. Now, then, how about gasolene? Have you enough for a big trip? There’s no telling how long you may be gone. Those upper-air hurricanes sometimes last for a week.”
“We’ll need to refill our gasolene tanks,” said Jerry.
“Then we’ll attend to that part for you,” said Mr. Durkin. “There are hundreds of gallons of the stuff here on the grounds. You look over your motor and machinery. It won’t do to have it break down. How about provisions?”
“Enough for a month!” cried Bob, and when his chums laughed the crowd wondered why. But for once Bob had the advantage, and he knew it. Only for the stocking of the craft with a big supply of food would it be possible to go on a long trip. And had it not already been aboard there would have been a long delay.
“Well, fellows, if we’re going, we’d better see to the Comet,” proposed Jerry. “Come on, hustle! Professor Snodgrass——”
“Right here!” cried the little scientist eagerly. “I’ll do anything you say. Oh, to think that at last we are to go to sea where I may get my singing fish! What shall I do?”
He was anxious to help, and for the time being forgot all about gathering ordinary specimens. Jerry mentioned several tasks which the little man could well attend to.
Soon there were busy scenes about the Comet. Gasolene was being poured into her reserve tanks. Bob took a last look at the provisions, and added several boxes and packages of food that kind friends offered. At Mr. Durkin’s suggestion some medicines were taken along, also some planks and ropes to be used in the possible rescue.
Jerry and Ned went over the machinery, and found that it was all right. Not a bolt was strained, not a nut loosened. The Comet was fit to make a flight half way across the Atlantic if need be.
“Well, I guess we’re about ready to start,” announced Jerry, after a last look over the machinery. There were many offers of help from persons in the crowd, but there was little they could do. Many also begged to be taken on the rescue trip, but these, of course, had to be refused.
“The sooner we get started the better,” spoke Ned, as he started on a run across the aviation grounds.
“Where you going?” called Jerry.
“To send a message to dad. I want to tell him where we are going, and the reason why I haven’t been able to get in touch with Mr. Jackson.”
“That’s a good idea. Send word to my folks, and to Bob’s also.”
“Sure!” called back Ned.
Soon a message was being flashed to his father, and to the other folks in Cresville. While waiting for a reply from his parent, Ned suggested to the operator that he try once again to get into communication with the Manhattan.
Through space the wireless messages clicked, but silence was the only answer.
“It’s of no use,” said the operator gloomily. “They may all be dead now.”
Ned, too, felt the seriousness of the situation, but he was not going to give up so soon. Once more the instruments clicked.
“It’s a message for you,” spoke the operator. Ned read the dots and dashes, for he and his chums could both send and receive wireless and ordinary telegraphic messages.
“Go ahead,” wired Mr. Slade to his son. “We all send our best wishes to you boys. Do your best to see Mr. Jackson, Ned. Vitally necessary to rescue him, for our own sakes. My business is in very poor shape. I am ruined unless Mr. Jackson lends me his aid and influence. Get to him if at all possible!”
“And I will, too!” declared the merchant’s son with a grim tightening of his lips.
He hurried back to where the Comet waited but the movement of a lever to launch her into space and off to the rescue. Briefly Ned told his chums of the message.
“Are you all ready?” asked Mr. Durkin.
“All ready,” replied Jerry. “Get aboard, Professor, we are going to start.”
Everything had been done that human foresight could think of to make the rescue a success. Jerry took his position in the steering tower.
Slowly he pulled the starting lever toward him. In another instant the Comet would dart forward. But, before the tall lad could pull the handle, a man pushed his way through the crowd, laid his hand on the rail of the aircraft and exclaimed:
“I forbid this balloon to leave the grounds!”
“Why?” demanded Jerry, leaning out of the window of the pilot house.
“Because I’ve got an attachment against it for a thousand dollars, and it can’t go until that amount is paid to Mr. Silas Muggins for damage you did to his barn. You and your machine are in the grip of the law!”