THE RACE
“What was that?” cried Ned.
“Lightning!” came from Bob.
“Lightning doesn’t act that way!” Jerry replied. He put the wheel over
to meet an on-coming roller. As he did so the queer light flashed out
again. First it was white, and then it changed to red, showing twice
and going out.
“It’s a lighthouse!” cried Jerry. “I forgot there is one near here.
It’s near a dangerous ledge of rocks, which are off shore.”
“Then we’d better stop!” cried Ned. “We may sink the boat.”
“Can’t turn around now. Too risky.”
Suddenly three sharp whistles sounded so close to the _Dartaway_ that
the boys jumped in fright. They thought they were about to be run down.
Then came a hail:
“Say, what you chaps trying to do? Commit suicide?”
“Who are you?” called Jerry, slowing down the engine.
“This is the _Three Bells_. Who are you?”
“_Dartaway._”
“Where from?”
“Harmon Beach.”
Out of the mist there loomed up alongside of the boys’ boat another
motor craft. It was nearly twice the size of theirs, and the throb of
the engine, though it was running slow and on low gear, told better
than words of the power of it.
The rain ceased, almost as suddenly as it had started and the fury of
the squall, having blown itself out, subsided. The wind died away, and,
though there was a long swell on, the storm was practically over. It
grew a little lighter with the dispersing of the mist.
The boys sized up the newcomer. The boat was about fifty feet long,
and had a small cabin. It was operated by a gasolene motor of eight
cylinders. Beside it the _Dartaway_ looked small.
“Are you the boys who sailed out of the cove this evening?” asked the
steersman of the _Three Bells_.
“I guess we are,” Jerry replied. He had stopped his engine, as had the
skipper of the other craft, which contained two men.
“Didn’t you hear some one hail you?”
“Yes,” said Jerry. “We thought it was some one wanting to race, and we
weren’t in trim for a brush. We haven’t got our boat fixed up yet, so
we decided to pay no attention to it. Was it you?”
“No, it was one of the coast fishermen,” replied the captain of the
_Three Bells_.
“Did he want to race?” asked Ned, curious to understand why a fisherman
should want to challenge them.
“Race? I guess not,” was the man’s reply. “Why he was calling you to
come back because he saw the squall coming up. He sized you up for
newcomers at the beach, and knew you probably didn’t know anything
about the weather here. We have some pretty bad storms, and they come
up in an instant and without warning. The fisherman was able to see it
getting ready to break, and he didn’t want you to venture out. But it
seems you went, anyhow.”
“Yes, and we had quite a time,” returned Jerry. “But the _Dartaway_
stood it all right.”
“More good luck than good management,” was the comment. “Why, half the
people at the beach probably believe you drowned by now.”
“How’s that?” asked Bob.
“The fisherman, when he saw he couldn’t catch you, came back and gave
the alarm.”
“I wonder if my mother is worried,” Jerry said. “We must hurry back.”
“Did you come out for us?” asked Bob of the _Three Bells’_ captain.
“That’s what I did,” was the answer. “I knew how risky it was out here,
in a small boat, so I hustled out after you. You must have gone a
pretty good clip, for I couldn’t catch you for some time.”
“Well, the _Dartaway_ has some speed,” admitted Jerry with a little
note of pride in his voice.
“We’ll have to enter her in the races next week. Oh, by the way, allow
me to introduce myself. I’m Captain James Jenkinson.”
Jerry told his own name, and those of his companions.
“Well, the squall’s about over now,” said Captain Jenkinson. “I guess
it’s safe enough to go back. Are you all right?”
“All except being wet through,” Ned replied.
“And hungry,” put in Bob, whereat his chums laughed.
“I can give you a tow back,” Captain Jenkinson went on. “We might make
it a little quicker.”
“I guess the _Dartaway_ can make it under her own power,” Jerry said.
He was not going to accept any assistance not really needed.
“All right,” Captain Jenkinson responded, probably understanding how
the boys felt. “You can follow me in, as I can probably pick out the
best channel for you.”
This aid the boys had no compunctions about accepting, and, as Jerry
turned the gasolene on, and shoved the spark lever over, the _Dartaway_
shot ahead. Jerry steered her in a curve after the _Three Bells_, which
was heading back toward the harbor.
“I say!” called Captain Jenkinson.
“What is it?” cried Jerry.
“If you ever come out this way again, look out for the rocks. They’re
indicated by a red and white striped buoy for days, but the lighthouse
marks them by night. They’re bad ones, so look out.”
“Thanks, we will,” shouted Bob.
It was now very dark, but the lights of the _Three Bells_ enabled the
boys to follow her. She made a fast pace, but the _Dartaway_ was no
slow boat, and in about an hour Jerry swung his craft into the little
cove.
“See you to-morrow perhaps,” called Captain Jenkinson, as he increased
the speed of his craft, and steered toward the boathouse on the
opposite shore to where Mrs. Hopkins had her cottage.
“Good-bye!” shouted the boys.
A few minutes later the _Dartaway_ was at her dock, and three soaking
wet, and somewhat tired, but very proud boys strolled up to the cottage.
“Good boat we’ve got,” observed Jerry. “Hard to beat, eh, fellows?”
“Now you’re talking,” said Bob. “I believe we could cross the Atlantic
in her--if we could take along enough to eat,” he added quickly.
The boys found Mrs. Hopkins so busy with the servants arranging the
cottage, that she had hardly given the lads a thought. She did not
even know they had gone out in the boat, so the storm had not worried
her. However, a number of the cottagers, who paid more attention to
the boating affairs, had heard of the boys’ peril and were relieved to
learn they got back safely. There was no small appreciation of their
pluck, after Captain Jenkinson had told of the affair.
When Mrs. Hopkins heard of it she was, at first, much frightened over
the danger the boys had escaped. But Jerry assured her they could
look out for themselves, and, on his promise to use all precautions
thereafter in going out of the cove in the boat, his mother placed no
restrictions on his actions.
For three days after this the boys were kept busy fixing up their
craft. They put the new saluting cannon in the bow, strung new rudder
lines, which had been strained during the squall, and cleaned the
engine. They were burnishing up the brass work, one afternoon, when
some one entered the boathouse.
“Where are the three boy sailors?” a hearty voice asked.
“Come in!” cried Jerry, and Captain Jenkinson entered.
“Hard at work, eh?” he asked. “That’s right, can’t take too much care
of your boat and engine. They do better work the more time you put on
them, and you never can tell when you may need an extra bit of speed.”
Captain Jenkinson told the boys of some informal races that had been
arranged among the owners of motor boats. There were half a dozen, he
said, who had entered their craft, and he asked if the boys did not
want to take part in the contest.
Of course they were delighted, and the captain said he would arrange to
have them formally entered. The races were to take place in the cove
the next Tuesday. The course was a triangular one, about three miles in
all, and the prize was a silver cup.
In the interval the boys found time to take several short cruises. They
found their craft was working well, and, in several little impromptu
contests, they “put it all over the other boats,” to use Bob’s
expression.
There were seven entries for the race, including the _Dartaway_. As
Captain Jenkinson’s boat was so powerful, and outclassed the others so
much, he did not enter but allowed the judges to use her.
“Do you think we have any chance?” asked Ned, the morning of the
contest.
“Sure,” replied Jerry, who was going to steer. “I don’t say we’ll win,
but we’ll come near it. You and Bob want to keep the engine well oiled.
Guess I’ll rig up a spare set of batteries, in case of accident. I’ll
have ’em ready to switch on in a second if the magneto or the regular
batteries fail.”
“The only boat I’m afraid of is the _Snail_,” said Ned. “She’s just the
opposite to her name, and the other day she went way ahead of us.”
“Our engine wasn’t sparking good that time,” Jerry remarked.
The race was a handicap one,--that is the boats were graded according
to the size of their cylinders and the horse-power of the engines. This
grading made the _Dartaway_ and _Snail_ take fourth place. Three other
boats started off ten seconds ahead of them, and two large boats ten
seconds after them.
The cove was dotted with craft the afternoon of the race. It was hard
to keep them clear of the course, but by dint of circling around it
several times Captain Jenkinson was able to make the owners of other
boats understand he meant business.
At the crack of a revolver the three first boats started off, the
explosions of their engines, from which the mufflers had been taken,
sounding like a battery of Gatling guns in full action.
The three boys nervously awaited the signal that was to send them off.
Jerry kept watch of those aboard the _Snail_, which contained three
youths.
Crack! went the pistol, and Jerry threw in the first speed clutch, for,
as in the case of the other boats, the engine had been kept running,
though not in gear.
The _Dartaway_ jumped ahead like a hungry fish after a small frog.
Likewise did the _Snail_, and, with the engines working almost at full
speed the two rival craft surged through the water.
Side by side they kept. Jerry threw in second gear and the captain of
the _Snail_ did likewise. Jerry decided to run on that for a while, and
trust to the power of the motor, which Ned and Bob were looking after.
Jerry dimly heard the revolver shot that sent the two last boats off.
But he did not care for them. He wanted to overhaul those in the lead.
This he seemed in a fair way to be able to do. None of the craft was
speedy, and, though their ten seconds start gave them an advantage, the
_Dartaway_ was soon close to the rear one.
Notch by notch Jerry gave the engine more gasolene, and, notch by notch
he advanced the spark lever. He was crouching down low, as were the
other boys, to offer less resistance to the wind. Slowly the _Dartaway_
was creeping up to one of the leading boats, and a little later passed
it. Then it overhauled another.
Just as the first leg of the triangular course was rounded Jerry threw
in the third speed, and shut off a little of the power. At the same
instant he passed the last one of the three boats that had gotten off
first and the _Dartaway_ was now in the lead. A thrill possessed him.
The _Dartaway_ might win.
But, as he turned his head, he saw that the _Snail_ had also crept up,
until, passing the others, it was on even terms with the boys’ boat.
The _Dartaway_ was not going to have things her own way.
Jerry had no thought for the other craft now. It was a contest with the
_Snail_ only. The two boats were evenly matched and those aboard knew
best how to get the speed out of them.
It was bow and bow between the two, almost to the second stake. Then
Jerry slightly advanced the spark lever and the _Dartaway_ shot ahead.
Only for an instant, however, as the _Snail_ was right after her.
“I’d like to lose her,” thought Jerry.
He gave one look behind him. The two boats which had started last were
close up, but Jerry had no fear of them. The engine of one, he could
tell by the sound, was missing explosions, and the other was wheezing
and coughing in a way that indicated loss of power. It was now a race
between the _Dartaway_ and the _Snail_.
They were on the last leg. Jerry could hear the shouts of the excited
spectators. It was a race worth seeing.
“Douse her with oil,” called Jerry. “On the bearings, only, don’t flood
the cylinders!”
Ned and Bob were busy over the machinery. Jerry was holding the wheel
firmly, watching, from the corner of his eyes, the progress of the
_Snail_. He thought he saw her falling back a little, and he used a
little of his reserve power.
Suddenly, with a wheeze that sent a chill to the hearts of the boys,
the _Dartaway’s_ engine ceased to work, and the _Snail_ shot ahead.