Produced by Al Haines
[Transcriber's note: this book contains the short story "Mrs. Stone's
Money-Order." Its author is unknown.]
[Illustration: Cover art]
[Frontispiece: Jack, crouching there, with one elbow resting on his
knee, took as good an aim as the conditions allowed]
Motor Boat Boys
Down the Coast
Or
_Through Storm and Stress to Florida_
By
LOUIS ARUNDEL
Author of "Motor Boat Boys on the St. Lawrence," "Motor Boat Boys
Cruise Down the Mississippi," "Motor Boat Boys on the Great Lakes,"
"Motor Boat Boys Among the Florida Keys"
Chicago
M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY
Copyright 1913
by
M. A. DONOHUE & CO.
CHICAGO
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. AFLOAT ON THE LOWER DELAWARE
II. A GOOD OMEN FOR THE START
III. JACK TAKES A HYDRO-AEROPLANE MESSAGE
IV. THE FIRST CAMP FIRE ASHORE
V. A STORM, AND NO REFUGE IN SIGHT
VI. A CLOSE SHAVE, BUT NO DAMAGE DONE
VII. HOW THE MOTOR BOAT FLOTILLA WENT TO SEA
VIII. THE CAMP INVADED
IX. THE DESPERATION OF HUNGER
X. NICK IN SEARCH OF A MERMAID
XI. A STUNNING DISCOVERY
XII. THE CAMP UNDER CAPE CHARLES LIGHT
XIII. A SHOUT AT MIDNIGHT
XIV. NICK BAGS HIS GAME
XV. A WARM WELCOME TO THE STORMY CAPE
XVI. THE WIRELESS AS TRICKY AS EVER
XVII. GOODBYE TO AN ANCHOR
XVIII. A SIGNAL OF DISTRESS
XIX. THE MESSAGE OF HOPE
XX. MEETING TROUBLE HALF WAY
XXI. FOG BOUND WHILE AT SEA
XXII. SAVANNAH AT LAST
XXIII. THANKS TO THE PILOT--CONCLUSION
MOTOR BOAT BOYS SERIES
THE MOTOR CLUB'S CRUISE DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI
THE MOTOR CLUB ON THE ST. LAWRENCE RIVER
THE MOTOR CLUB ON THE GREAT LAKES
MOTOR BOAT BOYS AMONG THE FLORIDA KEYS
MOTOR BOAT BOYS DOWN THE COAST
MOTOR BOAT BOYS RIVER CHASE
MOTOR BOAT BOYS DOWN THE DANUBE
THE MOTOR BOAT BOYS
DOWN THE COAST;
or
Through Storm and Stress to Florida
CHAPTER I.
AFLOAT ON THE LOWER DELAWARE.
"Toot your horn, Jimmy, and let everybody know we're off at last!"
"Sure, there's the ould _Wireless_ coming up on us, hand over fist.
It's a broth of a bhoy George Rollins is for speed!"
"Yes, he always starts out well, and with a rush; but generally manages
to have his engine break down; and then even the wide old tub _Comfort_
gets there ahead of the narrow speed boat. Now give 'em a blast,
Jimmy. The coast cruise is on!"
Accordingly, Jimmy Brannigan, who served as cook and crew aboard the
staunch motor boat _Tramp_, some twenty-three feet in length by six
feet wide (the boat, not Jimmy), and with Jack Stormways as pilot,
puffed out his cheeks and blew.
It was a necessary method for sounding the conch shell horn, which, if
blown like a bugle, would send out a screech that could be heard a mile
away.
Answering toots came from the two other crafts that had just left
Philadelphia astern, and were heading down the old Delaware River,
bound for Florida.
Here were six of the happiest young chaps on the face of the globe;
and, indeed, how could they help it? Blessed with good health; three
of them owning motor boats that had served them now for two seasons,
and with stores aboard for a "bully" voyage down the Atlantic coast,
taking the inland passage, what more could the heart of a real boy,
with red blood in his veins, sigh for!
These six lads lived in a town "out Mississippi way." They had long
ago ceased to be novices in the management of motor boats, and the
great benefit they seemed to have secured from previous trips on the
water, both down the wonderful Mississippi and on the Great Lakes, had
convinced their fathers that they were to be trusted under any and all
conditions.
Hence, when a calamity befell the high school of their native place,
which all of them attended, fire destroying the main part of the
building, so that there could be no session until some time after
Christmas, and a brilliant scheme dawned upon the mind of Jack
Stormways, they were not long in convincing those who controlled their
destinies that the opportunity for a run down the Atlantic coast before
winter set in, with possibly a similar cruise along the Mexican gulf to
New Orleans, was too good to be lost.
And so they had come to Philadelphia, with this object in view.
As to the money part--for it takes a heap of cash to transport three
motor boats a thousand miles and more by fast freight--that was the
easiest part of the programme.
It happened that the treasury of the Motor Boat Club was quite flush at
that particular time. On one of their former cruises, up on the Great
Lakes, and in the vicinity of the Thousand Islands, these lads had been
instrumental in bringing to justice a set of rogues, for whose
apprehension a large reward had been offered by the authorities.
That sum, with others picked up in various ways, had been lying at
interest all this while. They had intended using it for their next
cruise, no matter where that might happen to take them.
Various indeed had been the suggestions made from time to time; and
some of them bordering on the ridiculous. Strange to say, it was Nick
Longfellow, the companion of George Rollins on the narrow beam speed
boat _Wireless_, who gave utterance to most of these absurd
propositions.
Nick was fat, and a tremendous eater. As a rule he could not be said
to be at all bold by nature; and yet he declared that nothing would
please him half so much as that they explore the Orinoco River in South
America, and discover things never before known by white people.
Then there had been Josh Purdue, the tall and thin assistant of Herbert
Dickson on the beamy and steady if slow _Comfort_, who wanted them to
lose themselves for an entire month in the depths of the swampy country
to be found along the St. Francis River.
But when Jack sprung his sensation about the long trip down the coast,
and around to New Orleans, it took like wildfire, and every other idea
was speedily forgotten. Preparations were hurried, the boats shipped,
and later on the boys turned up in Philadelphia, where they found their
craft waiting for them.
And now, here they were, at noon on this late September day, with the
prows of their beloved boats turned toward the south, and plowing the
waters of the Delaware, the Quaker City left far astern.
Doubtless many aboard the bustling tugs, and the vessels that came and
went, smiled as they heard the merry tooting of horns exchanged between
the three little power boats that were speeding along toward the wider
reaches of the lower river.
They easily guessed that the boys had a good time ahead of them; but
truth to tell not one could have imagined the extent of the voyage upon
which the Motor Boat Club had now set out, with so confident a mien.
Taken as a whole, a merrier set of young chaps could hardly have been
assembled than the six who constituted this same club. They had, of
course, their faults; but by now they were so accustomed to each
other's society that seldom was a discordant note heard.
Jokes abounded, tricks were sometimes played, and accepted with good
nature; and without exception the boys had become very fond of each
other.
For instance, there was stout roly-poly Nick, who could never tear his
mind away from his favorite subject of eating, and whom thin and
cadaverous Josh liked to tantalize whenever the occasion offered,
because he himself, while a great cook, seldom found much appetite for
his own messes, being troubled from time to time with indigestion.
Then Jimmy, who, it can easily be understood, had sprung from the
rollicking Irish race, possessed a fine voice, as sweet as that of any
girl; and many the time did he beguile an evening at the campfire with
his songs and his clever dancing. Jimmy, by the way, happened to have
a fiery thatch, a multitude of freckles, and upon occasions lapsed into
the brogue of his ancestors, although he could talk as well as the
others when he chose.
George had the speed mania. This had developed early in his career,
for his one delight was to outstrip others in a race. Consequently,
when he had his boat built, he sacrificed lots of things to have it
narrow in beam, and naturally it was anything but a pleasure to be
aboard the cranky craft.
His mate, Nick, had suffered in the past from this condition of
affairs; and the log of former cruises would show that he had met with
more than one mishap because it was necessary to perfectly balance the
_Wireless_ at all times. Poor Nick often declared that if he chanced
to fail to part his hair directly in the middle, trouble was sure to
follow.
The _Comfort_, as its name would indicate, had been fashioned on just
the opposite plan, and speed was the last thing considered. They made
all manner of fun of Herbert's boat, and called it such derogatory
names as "The Tub" and "The Ark"; but all the same, when hurry was not
an object, those aboard certainly had the best of the controversy. And
then the quick-going boats always had to wait for Herb and his
"life-raft," so they did not gain anything in the end.
Then about the third craft, called the _Tramp_, and owned by the
recognized leader of the sextette, Jack Stormways. It united the good
qualities of both the other boats in that it was fast and at the same
time steady. While on occasion the cigar-shaped _Wireless_ could leave
Jack in the lurch, and the beamy _Comfort_ give more elbow room, taken
as a whole the _Tramp_ was the ideal cruiser; and both the other
skippers knew it away down in their secret hearts, though always ready
to stand up for their own boats.
It was close on the beginning of October when they made their start
from the City of Brotherly Love. For some time they would have to
dodge the many vessels that were moving hither and thither before the
busy port; but later in the afternoon they could expect to have clearer
weather, where the river widened out, with the shores farther apart.
For once George moderated his pace, and hovered near the others. He
felt so joyous over the sensation of being once more afloat, and with
such a glorious voyage ahead, that he wanted to be where he could
exchange remarks with his chums, and hear what they thought.
George had been doing considerable pottering with his engine lately.
He claimed that he had been able to increase its speed several miles an
hour.
"Wait till I get a good chance to show you, fellows," he now remarked,
with a satisfied air; "why, I expect to make rings around your blooming
old _Tramp_, Jack; and as for "The Ark," why, it'll be figure eights
for hers."
"Wow! don't I just see my finish, then," wailed poor, fat Nick, shaking
his head sorrowfully. "The vibration always was just fierce, and now
it'll just rattle me, so I'll be only skin and bones. You'll be
calling me the Living Skeleton before we ever get to Jacksonville, I
bet you, boys."
"Oh, when it gets so you just can't stand it any longer, call on Josh
here to change off with you, like he did once before," laughed Herbert.
"Josh is built on the order of a match, and seems to be especially
suited for a narrow-beam boat."
But the party mentioned did not seem to like the prospect any better
than Nick, to judge from the protest he immediately put out.
"Me to stick to the _Comfort_, fellows. One thing sure, if you are
last, you always know where you're at; and that's what I never did when
on that broncho of a _Wireless_. Why, it threw me twice; and souse I
went into the drink."
"But just think, Josh," insinuated cunning Nick, "all this shaking
would be the best thing ever for that indigestion of yours. It rattles
up the liver, and does a heap of good. I don't need that sort of
thing, you see. Last time you bunked with George you know you improved
a hundred per cent."
"Huh! mebbe," grunted Josh, "but it wasn't worth it, I tell you."
"Look at that tug bucking up against the tide, will you?" exclaimed
George just then--being humiliated by all this talk about the cranky
qualities of his pet, and anxious to call their attention elsewhere in
order to change the subject.
"Must be a greenhorn at the wheel, or else the fellow's had more drink
than he had ought to tackle," declared Nick.
"He sure does wobble a heap," admitted Jack, keeping a wary eye on the
approaching craft, lest it foul his own boat, and bring sudden disaster
on the cruise which had begun so auspiciously. "But perhaps that's a
trick these river pilots have when heading up into an ebb tide. They
know all the wrinkles of the game, I guess, and how to save themselves
from wasted efforts."
"Say, that rowboat had better look out; if he makes a quick turn with
the tug he's apt to run the little punkin seed down," George declared,
with a note of anxiety in his voice; for he was nervous by nature, as
his love for racing and making high speed would indicate.
"That pilot must be watching us all the time, wondering whatever we're
heading for down the river, because the duck shooting below isn't on
yet. There! he's swung about again! I hope he don't knock that
rowboat galley west!" called Herbert.
"Hey! look to your starboard--you're running down a boat!" shouted
Jack, dropping his wheel for three seconds in order to make a speaking
trumpet with both hands.
There was a brief interval of suspense. Then came a plain crash,
accompanied by loud shouts, and more or less excitement aboard the tug
that was heading up river way.
"He did it!" bellowed Josh, fairly wild with eagerness. "Oh! I'm
afraid the poor fellow will be drowned before that tug can come about
and go to his rescue. Turn your bally old tub, Herb, can't you? It
takes a whole day for you to get around."
"No use of our trying it," declared the skipper of the big roomy
_Comfort_, calmly, for nothing could start Herb out of his customary
condition of mental poise, because he is as steady in his way as his
boat; "he'd be drowned twice over before we reached him. Besides,
there goes Jack in his _Tramp_, shooting straight for the smashed
rowboat. Unless the poor fellow was injured and has already sank our
chum will get him all right, Josh."
"That's right," declared Josh. "George has gone and got flustrated, so
that he turned the wrong way; but if anybody can save that fellow it's
Jack Stormways. Oh! I hope he does it, because I'll take it as a good
sign that our new voyage down the coast is going to have a lucky start!"