With one last and lingering look at the battleship, which was now almost
lost to sight in the spray and spume of the sea and the mist of driving
rain, Ned crouched down in the dory and watched his brother at the
wheel, as the older lad turned the craft to make the trip through the
inlet.
Ned crouched to keep as much as possible out of the way of the flying
spray, and also to bring his weight low-down in the craft and thus make
her more seaworthy. For though it was not likely that the dory would
capsize, it was not wise to offer too many chances to the sea.
"Can you make it?" shouted Ned.
Frank nodded his head. It was no time for talk now.
The stanch craft rose and fell on the waves. She tumbled and tossed
about, but dories are made for rough weather and heavy seas, and the
boat of the two boys was no exception.
Once again Ned lifted off the cover of the engine box to see that the
oil was being properly fed to the machinery, for the gasoline motor was
under a severe strain now, forcing the boat through the inlet against
the power of the out-rushing tide.
"All right?" asked Frank, snapping out the words, but never taking his
eyes from the course ahead.
"All right," Ned answered.
On through the storm, through the driving rain and the stinging salt
spume, labored the dory, until she was in the more quiet waters of Great
South Bay, and then, for the first time since they realized that they
were caught in a bad storm, our two heroes breathed with comparative
freedom.
"Whew!" exclaimed Frank, with a sigh of relief as he allowed his tired
legs to stretch a bit, for he had sat in a braced position to manage the
wheel. "Whew! That was _some_ storm!"
"It was great!" declared Ned, laughing now. "I love a good blow!"
"So do I, and now that we have tried out the _Ellen_ and know what she
can do, we'll not have to worry so much. It sure is some great little
boat!" and Frank patted the wheel affectionately, as one might caress a
favorite horse or dog. The motor boat really seemed a thing of life to
the boys.
Their hard work was not yet over, however, for Great South Bay is very
shallow, and it does not take much wind to roughen the water there. But,
of course, the waves were nothing like those out on the open sea, and,
as Ned remarked, "it was pie"; meaning, in his own way, that it was easy
navigating.
"Well, we're almost in now," Frank remarked, a little later, as he
nodded in the direction of the tall wireless mast at Sayville--the
wireless by which messages are sent directly to and from Germany. The
mast is a landmark for miles around.
"Yes, we'll be at the house shortly now," agreed Ned. "Let me take the
wheel awhile. You must be tired."
"I am," Frank admitted, as he surrendered the spokes to his brother. The
latter steered to where their row boat was moored at the anchorage, and
having made everything aboard the dory snug for the coming night of
storm, and having anchored her, bow and stern, Frank and Ned rowed to
shore and started up the walk toward their uncle's house.
The two boys were orphans, their mother having died when they were
respectively nine and eight years old. Mr. Arden was an importer of
coffee and other tropical and South American products, and had, at one
time, been wealthy.
But the death of his wife seemed to deprive Mr. Arden of some of his
business ability. Perhaps he lost heart, and had little ambition left.
Whatever the cause, he gradually lost money and curtailed his activities
until he was in danger of bankruptcy. Of course Frank and Ned were then
too small to know about this.
Then Mr. Arden's brother Philip, a shrewd business man, stepped in to
the aid of the sorrowing man. Philip Arden knew little or nothing of the
importing trade, but he had good natural abilities, and he gave his
whole attention to his brother's affairs.
The effect was to save a business on the verge of ruin, and for some
years the two Arden brothers were in partnership. For a time the father
of Ned and Frank seemed to regain his old-time manner. But he really was
a man with a broken heart, and five years after the death of his beloved
wife he gave up the fight and died, after a brief illness.
Frank and Ned were thus left orphans, but, thanks to the business
ability of Philip Arden, the boys were heirs to a considerable fortune.
It was natural that they should now make their home with their uncle.
The latter had never married, and for the last few years he had taken up
his residence with his brother and nephews at Ipswhich, where the Ardens
had lived for many years in an old homestead on the bay.
Of course Frank and Ned grieved sorely over the death of their father.
They did not remember their mother quite so well, though often they
would go into the parlor and look at the picture of a woman with a
sweet, but rather sad face. It was a picture before which they had often
seen their father stand with bowed head and hands clasped behind his
back. And often, when he came softly out of the room where the portrait
hung, there was a suspicious moisture in Mr. Arden's eyes.
But Frank and Ned were healthy, hearty lads; and at fourteen and
thirteen grief does not last very long. Kind Nature did not intend it
so. And in a little while Ned and Frank at least partly forgot their
sorrow in the activities of life.
Their uncle carried on their father's business, though on a smaller
scale, and their money, inherited from their father, was in Philip
Arden's hands, as the guardian of the two boys. Frank and Ned never
asked how their fortune was invested. They took it for granted that it
was safe. They always had, within reason, all the spending money they
needed, and they were well supplied with the things that go to make life
enjoyable.
Their tastes were simple, however, and the most that they asked for was
something connected with boats. They seemed to live on the water,
especially in the summer.
Both boys attended Columbia University, in New York City, and were doing
well in their studies. They had no special profession in mind, but their
uncle rather took it for granted that they would, after their
graduation, take up the importing trade with him.
"I suppose we might as well do it as anything else," Frank said.
"Yes, for perhaps we can get a chance to make a trip to South America,"
Ned agreed. "I've always wanted to see foreign countries."
They spoke of this again as they hurried on through the storm to the
shelter of the big white house.
"I tell you what would be better than going to South America on
importing business," said Ned.
"What?" Frank inquired.
"Going down there, or for that matter, to any foreign country, on a
battleship!"
"Cracky! I should say so!" exclaimed the older lad. "I wonder if we'll
ever actually be on one?"
"Well, we were on one once," Ned remarked.
"The _Nebraska_, yes. But only on a tour of inspection with a lot of
fellows of our class. I want to actually belong to the battleship
myself--I don't want to be just a visitor."
"How about firing the big guns?" asked Ned.
"Yes, I'd want that, too! Oh, say, but what's the use of talking about
it?"
"None, I guess."
But had Frank and Ned only known it, they were nearer to their hearts'
desire than ever before.
"Oh, how wet you are!" exclaimed Mrs. Brun, the housekeeper, as the two
brothers entered the house. "Why, you're soaked!"
"Yes, we are a bit damp," admitted Frank. He was putting it mildly, for
the water was dripping from him and his brother in streams as they stood
in the middle of the kitchen, having entered through the rear door with
due consideration for the front hall rugs.
"Get your wet things off at once," said Mrs. Brun, "and I'll make you
some hot tea."
"Oh, we're not cold," Ned answered. He and Frank took off their coats
and shoes, and the housekeeper took charge of their garments while they
hurried to their room to change to dry things.
"Your uncle has been asking for you," Mrs. Brun called to them as they
went upstairs.
"We'll see him in a few minutes," Frank called back.
A little later, dry and comfortable, they went to the library. They
found their uncle pacing up and down the room, evidently in a highly
nervous and excited state. He glanced up as they entered, and exclaimed:
"Boys, I am quite worried!"
"Worried about us?" asked Frank. "Why, we were out in the dory. It was a
bad storm, but--"
"No, I wasn't worried about you. I felt you could take care of
yourselves. But, at the same time, I am glad you have returned safely.
No, I am worried about other matters. Boys, I have a confession to make
to you."
"A confession, Uncle Philip?" repeated Frank.
"Yes. I had rather you heard the truth from me, than to get a garbled
account from some one else, as you are sure to do sooner or later. Boys,
I am likely to be taken away at any moment by the authorities!"
"Uncle Philip!"
"Oh, don't look so alarmed," and he smiled at their blank faces. "It
isn't for anything disgraceful, nor on a criminal charge."
"But what other charge can they arrest you on?" Frank demanded.
"On a political charge."
"They don't do such things in this country!" cried Ned.
"The charge doesn't come from this country, boys. Sit down and I'll tell
you as much of it as you need to know."