THE BOYS WIN OUT.
"Now," said Frank briskly the next morning, "as that scoundrel
Constantio tried to steal a march on us we shall have to try to
discover his powder and make the gas by ourselves."
"What," exclaimed Harry, "do you mean to say that you think it would
be possible to do it?"
"If he can, I don't see why we can't," rejoined the other. "The first
thing to do is to find his powder. Then to mix it with equal parts of
water and sand in the cylinders and screw the caps on."
"Sounds easy," commented Harry.
"I guess the hardest part will be to find the powder," put in Ben.
"How are we to tell whether it's hydrogen gas powder or Seidlitz
powder, I'd like to know."
After a hasty breakfast a thorough rummaging of the cabin occupied by
Constantio was begun.
"Say, Frank," suddenly cried Ben, who was bending over a locker, "is
this the stuff?"
Frank hastened to his side and saw, ranged side by side, a number of
wooden boxes about a foot square labeled "Dangerous."
"I guess that's the stuff all right, Ben," he said, "bear a hand and
we'll drag it out. Only be very careful of it. It is probably a high
explosive if not handled delicately."
One by one the boxes were transferred until two dozen of them stood on
the beach, set in soft sand. Then a sudden difficulty flashed into
Frank's mind. Constantio had said "equal parts of sand, water and the
powder," but he had not said how much these equal parts were to be.
The only thing to do was to experiment.
Fortunately the massive steel cylinders, in which the gas was to be
generated, were provided with gauges to register the pressure. One
thousand pounds were marked as top measure, so Frank assumed that
somewhere about 800 pounds would be enough.
The first mixture they tried only registered three hundred pounds, but
by gradually increasing the amount of powder they at last hit upon the
required strength, and were ready to start on the work of inflation.
They had six cylinders full of the gas. Not enough to fully inflate
the bag, but enough, Frank calculated, to render it sufficiently
buoyant to carry the reduced weight it would be called upon to convey
now that the crew was gone.
The inflation nozzle was connected with cylinder after cylinder, till
the bag became so buoyant that it was necessary to weight the machine
down with heavy stones. At last the cylinders were emptied and the
great bag, expanded by the warm sun, swelled up till it seemed it must
burst. The expansion of gas by the sun was one of the things Frank had
counted on when filling the bag, and he was glad to see his theories
work out right. The treasure bags were hastily laden on to the craft
and then the boys, standing on the lower framework, one on each side,
while Ben stood in the pilot-house, started to kick off the weights
that restrained the ship from rising.
They had not cast off more than half a dozen before the ship gave a
mighty bound upward that threatened to throw them off her frames and
before they could catch their breath they had shot up 1,200 feet or
more. Hastily clambering aboard and laughing at the sudden jump, the
boys got the engine going and shaped a course that would bring them
over the spot where they had left the Bolo.
They held steadily on their course that day and the next. Early in the
morning of the second they encountered a surprising incident. Frank,
who was on lookout, hailed "Air-ship ahead."
And there, sure enough, heading northward, was a big red dirigible
coming toward them like the wind.
As they drew near, a man with a megaphone appeared on her bridge and
signaled that he wanted to hail them. Frank shut down the engine and
the two air-ships drew alongside.
"What ship is that?" hailed the man on the bridge of the red air-ship,
who wore yachting flannels as did his three companions.
"The Luther Barr of New York," responded Frank for lack of a better
name.
"We are the Dos Hermanos, five days out from Cuba, bound for
Jacksonville, Florida," was the response, "can you spare us any
bread?"
"Come alongside," responded Frank in a hearty tone, "and we'll give
you some tins of pilot bread."
"Bully for you," responded the red air-ship man.
The two dirigibles drifted together and the boys handed over some tins
of pilot bread or ship biscuit with which the larder of the Luther
Barr, as Frank had called her, was well provided.
"Thank-you," shouted the men on the red dirigible, as the lines were
cast off, "good-bye and good luck."
"Same to you," hailed the boys, as the engines were started. An hour
later the red dirigible had vanished on its voyage to the north.
"Well," said Frank, "that's the first time I've ever heard of 'ships
that pass in air and speak to each other in passing.' I'm glad we were
able to help a fellow voyager out."
Frank's observations that day showed that they could not be far from
the spot from where the Bolo had been left, but eager scrutiny failed
to reveal her till almost sundown, when Ben's sharp eyes spied
her--little more than a tiny black object on the horizon.
"There she is," he hailed.
Frank's binoculars soon confirmed the good tidings.
But as they neared the Bolo an astonishing thing happened.
Through the glasses they saw a form they recognized as Bluewater
Bill's come out on the deck and gaze at them in amazement, to judge
from the way he threw his arms about.
Presently he was joined by two other figures that the boys recognized
as Billy Barnes and Lathrop.
Harry impetuously rushed to the rail, oblivious of the fact that at
that distance the boys could not hear him, and shouted at the top of
his voice.
"Hullo, Billy, hullo, Lathrop, hullo, Bill!"
It was then that the surprise was sprung. Frank through the glasses
saw Bluewater Bill raise a rifle to his shoulder, and take deliberate
aim at the dirigible. The bullet sang by the pilot-house chipping off
a bit of molding.
"What on earth is the matter with them, have they gone crazy?"
exclaimed Harry.
Frank was as puzzled as his brother for a minute, but suddenly the
meaning of this inexplicable conduct burst upon him.
"They think we are Luther Barr! The sight of the dirigible has
deceived them," he cried.
"I'll bet that's the right explanation," cried Harry, "how are we to
undeceive them without getting our heads shot off?"
"I have it," cried Frank, diving into his pocket and bringing out a
rumpled bit of silk, "that's the old Golden Eagle flag. I saved it
when we had to abandon her."
Ben seized it from the boy's hand and ran to the rail with it, waving
the bit of silk furiously. Evidently the occupants of the Bolo saw and
recognized it, for they stopped their threatening demonstrations and
began waving furiously.
As they hovered above the Bolo, Frank shouted as much explanation as
he could through the megaphone, and then told the Boloites to be ready
to make fast a line. This done a tackle was rigged and one by one,
amid great cheering on Billy Barnes' part, the sacks of treasure were
lowered.
This task accomplished, there remained but one thing for the boys on
board the dirigible to do--namely to get on board the Bolo. The
gas-bag was deflated by means of the escape valve till the big
dirigible was but a few feet above the Bolo, and then the adventurers
slid down the rope on to the smaller vessel's deck. There being no way
of transporting the dirigible, she was allowed to drift away.
What greetings, handshakings, dances and yarn spinning took place
then, we will leave our readers to imagine. Early next day, after it
had been agreed that two-thirds of the treasure was to be divided
among Bluewater Bill, Frank and Harry, and the remainder in even parts
to Billy Lathrop and Ben Stubbs, anchor was got up and the Bolo headed
for the Florida coast. The young adventurers meant to head for St.
Augustine and then take train to New York, sending the Bolo back to
Galveston with a hired crew.
They had but one regret--the loss of the gallant Golden Eagle. How she
was recovered will be related in another volume, but restored to them
she was.
"I'm glad we came through with such flying colors," said Harry to
Frank one evening, while the boys were all seated on the foredeck,
"but I hate to think our adventures are all over."
"I don't suppose we shall have any more for awhile," sighed Billy
Barnes, "it seems to me we've done about all that's possible."
Frank laughed.
"With the money we can make from the sale of the treasure, we can
build another aeroplane and have lots of good times," he said, "we
might even try a transcontinental flight."
"From New York to Frisco--bully," exclaimed Billy Barnes.
"Do you think that you really could make such a flight, Frank?" asked
Lathrop.
To satisfy the curiosity of others like Lathrop, we will say that not
only could the boys make the flight but that they did, and had a
series of surprising adventures in connection with it.
It now only remains to tell of the conclusion of Luther Barr's vain
quest for the treasure. Perhaps an item from a New York newspaper best
covers the ground. The clipping we have selected reads as follows:
"Luther Barr's yacht, Brigand, returned to-day and thus cleared up
some of the mystery connected with her long sojourn in Southern
waters. Seen on board her, Mr. Barr declined to be interviewed or to
tell anything about his absence, which has created some stir on Wall
Street. Asked if he were still interested in aeronautics, he became
furiously angry and threatened to have the reporter thrown overboard.
Mr. Barr said he had not heard anything about the remarkable
discoveries on a derelict Spanish galleon made by Frank and Harry
Chester, the Boy Aviators, and a party of adventurers who accompanied
them, and of which a full account was printed in these columns some
days ago, on the safe arrival of the boys from St. Augustine, Fla.
Frank Chester said yesterday that there was nothing to add to our
article as printed, except that the valuables recovered had realized
more than $500,000."
And here for the present we will leave our young friends to renew our
acquaintance with them in the next volume of this series, which will
be called:
THE BOY AVIATORS IN RECORD FLIGHT; OR, THE RIVAL AEROPLANE.
THE END.