The Motor Rangers' Wireless Station by John Henry Goldfrap
With a shrug of his shoulders, the doctor turned, and Joe shut andlocked the door behind him.
“We’ll have no more meddling on board here,” he muttered.
In a few minutes Ding-dong announced that all was ready to try the motoronce more. Joe switched on the electric self-starting appliance and thecylinders began to cough and chug welcomely. But it took some timelonger to get them properly adjusted. At last the task was completed,however, and once more the _Nomad_ was able to battle for life. Nolonger a helpless plaything of the giant rollers, she fought themgallantly, with her heart beating strong and true again.
Joe brewed coffee and got cold meat and bread from a locker, and theboys took turns relieving each other at wheel and engine. In the drivingspume and under the dark clouds that went whistling by above their headsit was impossible to see more than a few yards before them. They had notthe slightest idea how far they might be off the coast.
In the middle of all this anxiety and turmoil, Joe got the fright of hislife. He was on the bridge, holding the _Nomad_ to her course as well ashe could—considering the drift she had made when the motor wasidle—when, out of the storm, terror, real and thrilling, swept down uponhim. Above the crest of a big wave there suddenly appeared the wallowinghull of another motor boat! She was smaller than the _Nomad_ and wasmaking dangerously bad weather of it.
Joe had hardly time to see the other craft before she was flung towardthe _Nomad_ like a stone out of a catapult. Joe spun the spokes of the_Nomad’s_ wheel furiously, but with her rudder clear out of the waterhalf the time the motor craft did not respond as obediently to her wheelas usual.
“Look out! You’ll run us down!” bawled Joe to a figure he saw crouchingbehind the cabin of the other boat.
“Our engine’s broken down!” came the answer, flung toward the younghelmsman by the wind. “Help us!”
Above the bulwarks of the other boat, as the two small craft swept by inthe storm rack within a few inches of each other, appeared two otherheads. Joe caught their shouts for aid and frantically rang the signalbell to summon the others on deck. Nat and Ding-dong came tumbling up toascertain what fresh accident had happened. They arrived just in time tosee the other motor boat, a white-painted, dainty-looking craft, sweptonward amid the towering seas.
“They’ve broken down—need help—what can we do?” bawled Joe into Nat’sear.
The leader of the Motor Rangers looked troubled. The other craft was bythis time wind-driven some distance from them. To try to overtake herwould be a most risky maneuver. Nat saw in his first glance at the otherboat that she was not fitted at all for outside work. She was evidentlya mere pleasure craft which had probably been overtaken unexpectedly bythe northwester before she had had time to make port.
It was a trying dilemma that faced those on the _Nomad_. Below, they hadwhat was in all probability a dying man. At any rate, his life dependedupon the speed with which they could make port. On the other hand, threehuman beings equally doomed to destruction, if help did not speedilyreach them, had just been driven by, the helpless victims of the storm.
Nat and his chums found themselves facing a question which comes to fewmen, and assuredly to still fewer lads of their ages. As usual, theothers looked to Nat for a decision. But it was longer than usual incoming. Young Trevor felt to the full the heavy responsibility that layupon him in this crisis. If he took after the storm-wracked pleasurecraft with its human cargo, he was running a grave risk of losing alltheir lives without saving the others. On the other hand, the appeal forhelp from the powerless victims of the storm had struck a chord in Nat’sheart which was never unresponsive. In the course of their adventurouscareers the Motor Rangers had aided and benefited many a human being,but never before had they encountered any in such urgent need of succoras those who had just flung their prayer for aid broadcast on the wingsof the wind.
“Well, what’s the decision?” shouted Joe, as the three lads stood sideby side on the wildly swaying bridge.
“To put her about. We’ll go after them,” was Nat’s response, as withfirm hands on the wheel he swung the _Nomad_ full into the teeth of thegale.
CHAPTER V.
NAT TO THE RESCUE.
There followed moments of the most intense and thrilling anxiety. Cloudsof salt water broke thunderously over the plucky little _Nomad_ as shebattled her way on the path of rescue. Her framework quivered andgroaned, and she was flung upward on mountains of water and dashed intoliquid abysses till the boys’ heads began to swim. But still Nat, withcool, steady eyes, gazing straight ahead through all the wildly flyingsmother, held her toward the spot where an occasional high-leaping wavesurged and showed the little craft that they were following. Down belowDing-dong had returned to his engines and was urging them to their bestefforts.
Bit by bit they overhauled the other motor boat, but it was killingwork. Time and again it seemed that they would have to give it up, buteach time the _Nomad_ drove on, and at last they were close to the otherboat. She was a pitiful sight. From the water-logged way in which shebehaved, it was clear that she was half full of water and utterly unableto keep up the fight any longer.
Nat crept up to windward of her and then shouted that he would stand by.The wind hurled away any reply that might have come, but Nat was prettysure that the men on the other boat could hear him, which was all thathe wanted.
“We dare come no closer,” he bellowed, “but we’ll chuck you a life-ringon the end of a rope. Jump overboard and grab it, and we’ll haul youaboard!”
A wave of the arm from one of the three figures crouched under thebulwarks of the other boat for protection against the breaking seasshowed him that his message had been heard and understood. On the bridgerail of the _Nomad_ were three life-rings, with plenty of light, strongrope attached. Nat ordered all three of these cut loose and flung towardthe other boat.
Joe worked like a beaver getting them loose and chucking them out towardthe storm-battered crew. They were heavy, but the wind helped inpropelling them, and they drifted down in the right direction.
“Now!” yelled Nat, as the first of them came close alongside thedistressed launch. Without hesitation, except to shake his comrades’hands, one of the men mounted the bulwarks and dropped into the boilingsea.
He fought for a few seconds and finally succeeded in reaching thebobbing, dancing life-ring. The way in which he got into it, by pressingon one edge and then tipping it till it encircled his head, showed thathe was familiar with the trick of getting into a life-ring so as to makeit most efficient.
Joe began hauling in with might and main. Nat, one hand on the wheel,helped him. Slowly but surely in the teeth of the storm they drew therescued man toward them. When he was alongside and in the comparativelysmooth water of the _Nomad’s_ lee, Joe sent the bridge “Jacob’s ladder”snaking down; and in a few seconds more the man, a stalwart-lookingyoung fellow in a blue sweater and rough serge trousers, stood drippingbeside them. There was no time to ask questions, for by this timeanother of the distressed party had plunged into the sea. Like hispredecessor, he, too, grasped a life-ring, and, with the added strengthof the rescued sailor (for such appeared to be the rank of the first mansaved), the boys made good time getting him on board.
“For heaven’s sake,” he panted, as he was hauled to safety on the_Nomad’s_ bridge, “lose no time in getting Doc Chalmers off. Nate,” headded excitedly, turning to the roughly dressed young fellow, “thegasolene tank is leaking. The whole boat reeks of the stuff.”
“Good land o’ Goshen, and that lantern in the cabin be alight!” criedthe other, an expression of alarm coming over his sunburned,weather-beaten face.
“Look, he’s on the rail now!” cried Joe, as the third figure, the one ofthe man still remaining on the launch, was seen to mount the coamings.
There was a sudden flash of flame and the roar of an explosion. Flamesshot up from the launch and the lead-colored waters grew crimson underthe angry gla
“The doctor! Nate, do you see the doctor?” asked the other survivor ofthe sailor.
“No, sir, Mr. Anderson! Land o’ Beulah, I don’t!” wailed the other.
“There he is! Look! Off there!” cried Joe suddenly.
He pointed to a black speck, the head of a human being, in the midst ofthe blood-red waves.
“He’s missed the life-ring!” groaned the man who had been addressed bythe sailor as Mr. Anderson.
“Is he a good swimmer?” demanded Nat anxiously.
“No, he can only handle himself in the water a little,” was the reply.
They all gazed as if fascinated at the struggle on the flame-lit waterssurrounding the blazing launch. The face of the castaway was toward themnow and they could see his agonized features as he struggled amidst thesurges.
“Joe, take the wheel. One of you throw another life-ring after me!” camesuddenly in Nat’s voice. “Bear down after me, Joe, and look lively tochuck the second ring if I miss the first!”
Before they could lay hands on him or utter one word of remonstrance,Nat was overboard. On the bridge lay his oilskins, shoes and outergarments. While they had been gazing, horror-stricken, at the strugglefor life going on apparently beyond the power of human aid, Nat hadacted. But it was a chance so desperate as to seem suicidal.
“Nat! Nat! Come back!” shouted Joe, but it was too late. Nat was alreadystruggling in the towering seas, fighting his way toward the haplessman. The next instant Joe flew to the wheel. In the moment that it hadbeen neglected the _Nomad_ had yawed badly. He signaled Ding-dong tocome ahead slowly, and as well as he was able he kept after Nat, in atremble of fear lest by over-eagerness he might run him down.
“Stand by with those life-rings!” he ordered curtly to the two menalready rescued, who did not appear to be so much the worse for theirimmersion. The sailor and the man addressed as Anderson each picked up alife-ring, and, leaning over the starboard rail, eagerly scanned thewater for the moment when they were to fling them out.
“Whatever made Nat take such a mad chance?” groaned Joe to himself as hesteadied the _Nomad_ as best he could. “But it was like him, though,” headded, with a quick glow of admiration for his young leader. “He’s thestuff real heroes are made of, is Nat.”
Suddenly the man who had been battling for life in the glare of theburning launch was seen to throw up his hands, and, with a wild cry ofdespair on his lips, which was echoed by his friends on the _Nomad_, hevanished.
“Good heavens!” cried Joe in an agonized voice. “Has Nat sacrificed hislife in vain?”
He scanned the waters for a glimpse of his chum, but not a sign of theplucky young leader of the Motor Rangers rewarded him.
Like the man he had set out to save, Nat Trevor, too, was apparentlyengulfed by the seething waters.
CHAPTER VI.
SAVED FROM THE SEA.
Joe, till the last day of his life, never forgot the ensuing period oftime. It appeared to be years that he stood there amidst the pandemoniumof the storm, with his nerves on blade edge and his heart beatingsuffocatingly with anxiety. The _Nomad_ struggled and plunged like awild horse, and it required all his muscular strength to hold her withincontrol.
A sudden shout from Nate caused him to look up hopingly.
“There! There they both are!” yelled the sailor excitedly.
The next instant Joe, too, saw them. Right ahead of the _Nomad_ was Nat,apparently buoying up the limp form of Dr. Chalmers on the life-ringwhich the latter had missed, but which a lucky accident had broughtwithin Nat’s grasp at the very instant almost that Dr. Chalmers sank.Nat had seen that the only chance of saving him was to dive swiftlyafter him and trust to luck. He had done so, and on coming to thesurface had managed to grasp the life-ring. All this, however, they didnot know till afterward.
From the bridge of the _Nomad_ the two spare life-rings were flung withright good will, and Nat encased himself in one of the hooplike devices.But it was not till he and his dripping companion were hauled to the_Nomad_ and were safe on board that they realized how great the strainon muscle and nerve had been. Nat swayed and would have reeled againstthe rail but for the young sailor from the boat, who caught him. As forthe man Nat had saved, he lay exhausted on the bridge while his friendbent over him.
Luckily, Nat’s youthful, strong frame was as elastic as a chilled steelspring, and, after boiling hot coffee had been poured into him till helaughingly protested that he was “a regular three-alarm fire,” he wasalmost as spry and active as usual. Dr. Chalmers, a man of middle age,did not rally from his immersion so quickly, however. He had swallowedquantities of salt water and had had a narrow escape of being overcomealtogether.
Ding-dong was summoned from his engines to look after the rescued onesas soon as Nat was ready to “trick” Joe at the wheel, and the latter, inhis turn, relieved Ding-dong. Dr. Sartorius held aloof while thestuttering boy explained to his interested auditors the day’s adventuresand learned how they came to be in such a fix. Dr. Chalmers, who, itappeared, was an Eastern physician of note spending a short vacation atSanta Barbara, had gone out fishing earlier that afternoon in NateSpencer’s boat, the _Albicore_. His friend, Rufus Anderson, an engineerconnected with the Government, had accompanied him. Time passed sopleasantly, with the fish biting their heads off, that all thought oftime and distance from shore had been lost. It was not till the sun wasobscured that any of the party gave heed to the weather, and then it wastoo late.
“We owe our lives to you boys,” declared the doctor gratefully, “and wecan never repay you for what you have done.”
Rufus Anderson warmly echoed the doctor’s praise, and Nate, the sailor,shyly seconded the gratitude. Dr. Chalmers had already agreed to helpNate purchase another boat in place of the _Albicore_, and so thefisherman felt happier than he might have done at the thought of histrim craft lying a blackened shell in the Pacific.
The doctor expressed great interest in Mr. Jenkins’ case, and, afterexamining him, declared that in his opinion the surgeon of the_Iroquois_ had exaggerated the nature of his injuries. In hisestimation, he said, Mr. Jenkins would pull through all right. Ding-dongstole a look at Dr. Sartorius as his brother physician announced thisopinion, and detected an expression of hawklike eagerness on theblack-bearded man’s features. He showed an interest beyond that of aperfect stranger in Dr. Chalmers’ opinion.
“Then he will not die, after all?” he asked in his raspy voice, comingforward to the other physician’s side.
Dr. Chalmers turned and scrutinized him quickly.
“Dr. Sartorius,” explained the other, introducing himself. “I have aprofessional interest in the case. You think this man will live?”
“I do, unquestionably,” was the reply of Dr. Chalmers. Ding-dong saw hiseyebrows lift in astonishment at the other’s tone. It was plain that heliked the black-bearded man no better than did the boys.
When Ding-dong, shortly afterward, poked his head above the companionwayfor a breath of air, he found that the storm was rapidly abating. Infact in the cabin it had been apparent that the movements of the _Nomad_were becoming less and less erratic and violent. He told Nat of what hadoccurred below, and Nat, after a moment’s thought, replied:
“There’s something about all this that I can’t fathom, Ding-dong. Infact, things have been moving so swiftly since we left the _Iroquois_that I haven’t had time to think. Of two things I’m pretty sure, though,and one of them is that Dr. Sartorius came aboard us because he didn’twant Mr. Jenkins out of his sight; and the other is that he had a goodreason for wanting to delay the _Nomad’s_ reaching port when he tamperedwith the engines.”
“Y-y-y-y-you think he der-der-did it, then?” asked Ding-dong.
“Who else could have? I didn’t, you didn’t, and Joe didn’t. The injuredman certainly didn’t; and, besides that, didn’t Joe see his Whiskerscoming out of the engine room with a monkey wrench? What was he doing inthere at all if he
“Ther-ther-that’s so,” assented the other. “It’s all like aCher-cher-Chinese puzzle. What are you going to do about it, Nat?”
“If suspicions were legal evidence, I’d hand this fellow over to theauthorities as soon as we landed; but I can’t do that very well. Theywould only laugh at us. Recollect, we’ve got nothing tangible to bringagainst the man——Hullo, Joe, what’s up now?”
Nat turned quickly as Joe came on deck. His face was troubled.
“The engines are acting awfully queerly again,” he said seriously; “Ican’t make out what ails them. Everything appears to be all right, butstill they’re not running as they ought.”
“Guess you’d better skip below and look at them, Ding-dong,” said Nat.“No offence meant, Joe, but Ding-dong is the mechanical crank of thisoutfit.”
Joe and Ding-dong were below some time, during which period the blacksquall about blew itself out, leaving only a heavy, blind swell to tellof its passing.
When the two lads came on deck again Nat saw at once that they had badnews.
“We’re pretty nearly out of gasolene, Nat,” announced Joe ruefully;“none of us thought to look at the main tank before we started out, andnow we’ve only a few gallons left. We’ve pumped that into the auxiliary,and I guess we can limp along a few knots on it.”
“Great mackerel! That’s nice!” exclaimed Nat, shoving back his cap andscratching his curly forelock, a way he had when perplexed. “This issure our day for troubles,” he added with a grin.
“Well, gee-whillakers, I don’t see what else can happen right off,”declared Joe.