TWO CAPTIVES
“WHAT’S that? What’s the matter?” cried Tom Swift, hearing Mr. Damon’s
shout. “Are they going to ram us?”
Tom had been bending over the gasoline throttle in an endeavor to coax a
little more speed out of their craft. Now he looked up to see that they
were very near the fleeing boat.
“No, I said rocks ahead! Look! Bless my life preserver, we’re going to
hit them!” yelled the eccentric man. “Look out!”
Then, but too late, Tom saw and realized why the other boat had swerved
so suddenly. It was to avoid the rocks. And now the _Gull_, which was
the name of the boat Tom had hired, was headed directly for the black,
sharp rocks that reared their ugly heads out of the blue water of Lake
Carlopa.
“Hand me that boat hook and maybe I can fend us off,” called out the
tramp.
Tom, however, was sure this would be of no service, so he did not obey
the request. He was trying with all his might to pull the wheel around
far enough to steer the _Gull_ away from the rocks. But the craft was a
heavy one, rather clumsy, and did not respond readily.
“See if she’ll reverse, Mr. Damon!” panted Tom, who had to use both
hands on the wheel. “Throw that lever back!” and he pointed to one with
his foot.
“Yes, I know how!” Mr. Damon replied. He grasped the gear lever and
began straining on it. Suddenly there was a sharp report.
“Did it break?” cried Tom, looking at the rocks on to which they seemed
about to crash.
“No. They’re shooting at us!” yelled Bill Tagg. “There they go again!”
he added, ducking down into the bottom of the boat.
Tom and Mr. Damon were both occupied with trying to save the _Gull_ from
going on the rocks and they could not draw their weapons. The tramp,
however, aimed his automatic and sent a couple of answering shots toward
the boat containing Ned.
“Look out you don’t hit our friend,” warned Tom, who felt the rudder
gradually coming around, so that he had hopes of saving the _Gull_ from
a direct crash.
“I fired over their heads,” explained Bill Tagg. “They’re doing the
same, I guess—trying to bluff us!” He fired again, high enough to clear
those in the fleeing craft, and again came a response. This time the
bullet was lower and Tom instinctively ducked, though he knew the
missile must have passed him before his ear caught the vicious whine of
its passage through the air.
Then, so suddenly that no warning was given, the _Gull_ struck on a rock
just beneath the surface. It was a glancing blow, and the rock, luckily,
was smooth, or the craft might have been shattered. As it was, the
_Gull_ careened to one side, and so sharply that Tom Swift was thrown
overboard, landing in the lake with a great splash.
Instinctively, he took a long breath and held it, closing his mouth that
had been opened preparatory to shouting further directions to Mr. Damon
about reversing the craft.
Down into the depths sank Tom, while the _Gull_, whose speed was not
slackened, slued around from her impact on the rock and shot off on a
tangent in a direction directly opposite from that taken by the
_Turtle_, the boat containing the three roughly attired men and that
silent, wrapped figure in the bottom—a figure that was supposed to be
Ned Newton.
“Bless my steamship ticket!” yelled Mr. Damon, “where’s Tom?”
“Overboard!” yelled the tramp. “And I can’t swim!”
“Me get him!” shouted Koku, peeling off his coat preparatory to a dive
over the side.
“Stay where you are!” came the stern command from the other boat which
had circled around and was now headed for the place where Tom Swift’s
head appeared in the watery circles caused by his plunge. “We’ll drill
the first man that goes overboard!”
Two of the rascals stood in the bow with leveled weapons, while the
third was steering the boat straight toward Tom.
“They’re going to ram him!” gasped the tramp. He did not seem capable of
doing anything to help, and Koku, being now without a weapon, was of no
service. Mr. Damon had laid aside his pistol to work the reverse lever
and, even if he could have recovered it, there was a question as to his
ability to use it.
Thus fate favored the rascals, and Mr. Damon and his two companions were
forced to see themselves being carried farther and farther away from the
_Turtle_ as the _Gull_, whose engine was still running, headed away from
the rocks. Apparently little damage had been done by striking the
obstruction.
From a distance Mr. Damon, the tramp, and the giant watched to see what
would happen to Tom Swift. At first it seemed as though he was going to
be run down by the unprincipled men in the _Turtle_. But they had other
plans in mind and, reaching the swimming inventor, the two men in the
bow reached over, grasped him, and pulled him in. He could not fight
back, and, indeed, having gone overboard with all his clothes on, was
having a hard struggle to keep afloat. Rescue, even at the hands of the
enemy, was welcome.
“They’ve got him!” gasped Mr. Damon.
“We go take him away!” growled Koku. “Make boat go odder way, Mr.
Damon—we get Master Tom.”
“I—I’m afraid I don’t know how to operate this craft,” confessed the
eccentric man. “I might run it back on the rocks.”
Once Tom was hauled, dripping wet, aboard the _Turtle_, the boat was put
about and went speeding off and away from the _Gull_ which, to tell the
truth, was headed back toward her own dock.
Tom, as he was pulled over the side, had a glimpse of the _Gull_ going
back where she came from. He remembered that neither Mr. Damon nor Koku
could operate the craft without some one along to advise them, and the
young inventor had doubts about the tramp’s navigating ability in the
emergency.
“Well, anyhow, she’ll get to shore and they’ll be all right,” reasoned
Tom.
Then he gave thought to his own situation.
“Well, we’ve sure got him now!” chuckled one of the three men.
“You said it!” echoed another. “We didn’t make no mistake this time!”
Tom almost fell on the gagged and bound body of another young man, and
it needed but a glance to show him that here was Ned Newton, a prisoner
like himself. Ned could not speak and could hardly move, but his eyes
flashed a greeting to Tom.
“They’ve got us both!” said Tom in a low voice to his chum, as he
crawled alongside of Ned. “But they won’t keep us long. Are you hurt,
Ned?”
A shake of the head in negation was the only way Ned could reply.
Then further talk on Tom’s part was stopped, for one of the men,
standing over the two captives with an automatic in one hand, growled:
“Shut up down there!”