THE CRY ACROSS THE WATERS
The words of George struck Alvin and Chester like "the knell of doom."
They looked in each other's faces, white and silent for a brief spell;
then Alvin whispered:
"He must have fallen overboard."
"And he couldn't swim a stroke," added Chester, in the same husky
undertone.
They said no more, but, keeping their feet, stared at the _Deerfoot_
wallowing in the gentle sea, like a helpless wreck. A faint hope sprang
up in their hearts that, after all, Mike might have been overcome by
sleep and would be found curled up in the cockpit. They could not see
the bottom of the compartment until quite near. Then a single searching
glance told them it was empty. He might have crept under the deck
forward or aft, but it was hardly possible he had done so.
George ran the _Shark_ with skill close beside the other boat. The
moment it was within reach Alvin leaped across, landing on the stern,
from which he bounded down into the cockpit and peered into the
obscurity in front. That too was devoid of a sign of life. He and his
chum were the only ones on the motor boat.
Now that their worst fears seemed to be confirmed a strange calmness
came over both. Their voices were low but even, as are those of people
in the presence of death.
"What do you think stopped the boat?" asked Chester.
"It is easy to find out."
His first action answered the question. A glance into the gasoline tank
showed that it was empty of all fluid. The source of power had been used
up.
"There may have been other causes, but that was enough," remarked Alvin.
"I'll look into things on our way back."
His first plan was to borrow enough gasoline from George to run the
_Deerfoot_ on the homeward trip, but George thought he had none to
spare.
"I can tow you to town," he added.
"That will do as well."
The tow-line was passed over the bow and George made it fast to a cleat
on the stern deck of the _Shark_. Then he resumed his moderate speed
toward Boothbay Harbor. It was not a long run and Alvin spent much of
the time in inspecting the mechanism of his motor boat. To repress so
far as he could his profound grief, he kept up a running commentary or
explanation to Chester, who really did not require it, for he knew a
good deal about motor boats. But he listened as if it were all new to
him, and asked questions. His purpose was the same as his friend's: they
talked about everything else in the vain effort to keep their minds from
the awful theme that bowed them both with a sorrow they had never known
before.
"If when the ignition system is in good order, the carburettor properly
adjusted and the compression cocks closed, there is a lack of power, it
may be due to carbon or some foreign substance on the seats of the
exhaust or inlet valves. Even so small a thing as a flake of metal or of
emery left from a former grinding may lodge on the valve seat or under
the valve stem and cause loss of power, or a crack in the head of the
piston or cylinder or a broken or worn piston ring may give the same
result."
"I have heard of those and other causes," said Chester, as the two sat
side by side, "but what is the most common one?"
"The valves, when they need grinding. I have not had that trouble yet
with the _Deerfoot_, and when I do I shall not try to do the grinding
myself. The work is so delicate that it should be done only by an expert
mechanic."
"What causes backfiring, through the carburettor, Alvin?"
"The ignition of the gas in the inlet pipe by a flame in the cylinder
left over from a former explosion after the inlet valve opens, or by too
weak a mixture, by dirt in the carburettor, a leaky inlet valve, or too
small a fuel pipe. I have known an open throttle and late spark to cause
backfiring. If with low speed and a little more feeding of fuel the
backfiring continues, you must look for carbon deposits in the
combustion chamber."
"Many persons are puzzled by explosions in the muffler. Are you?"
"I learned from my instructor that they are produced by an unignited
charge entering the muffler and being fired by the hot gases from the
next explosion in the cylinder. This does no harm, and if the muffler is
strong is a good thing, for it blows out the smoke and dirt that have
accumulated."
"The trouble with--with--_him_, you say, was the lack of fuel."
"Yes, but he might have had plenty of gasoline and found the engine dead
on his hands. Water or dirt in the carburettor plays the mischief."
And so the questions and answers went on--so many of them that you would
find their reading tedious. The pitiful part of the whole business was
that, as I have said, Chester could have made clear everything asked as
well as his chum and the chum knew it. It was a pathetic attempt to hold
their minds from the one gruesome, oppressive truth.
But they were too manly to shirk their duty. Nothing was to be gained by
turning from that which sooner or later must be faced. Two of the
saddest calls upon them must be answered.
"Shall we search for the body before letting his father and mother
know?" asked Chester, when they had passed McKown Point and were
entering the harbor of Boothbay.
"I don't know what is best. They will soon hear of it and will be
frantic until the body is found."
"It is not likely to come up and float for several days, and there's no
saying where the currents will take it. A few years ago a fisherman was
drowned off the eastern side of Squirrel and was found a week later
several miles up the Damariscotta. Some one will come upon poor Mike
sooner or later, when not looking for him."
"Our search may be a short one, for I don't think the body will drift
far for some time to come. We must not stop until it is found."
"Now no one beside ourselves knows what has happened except George, who
is towing us. We will get him to say nothing about it, until he has
permission from us. In that way the secret will be safe for a few days."
George gave his promise, and the boys decided not to make the woeful
truth known to the parents until all hope of recovering the body through
their efforts was gone.
For years a huge box-like structure has floated in the harbor of
Boothbay, upon which is painted in big letters the announcement that it
has gasoline for sale. Towed beside this, Alvin speedily had his tank
filled with the fuel. The inspection which he had made of his launch
showed that nothing was the matter with it, and when put to the test the
engine ran with its usual ease and smoothness. He paid George for his
services, taking the occasion to remind him of his pledge to say nothing
about their unfortunate friend until he received permission. Then,
without going to the float or wharf, where many landings are made, Alvin
whirled over the wheel, turned the boat round and headed southward
toward the Atlantic Ocean.
Naturally it seemed to them that their search should begin in the
neighborhood of where the drifting _Deerfoot_ was discovered. It was
strange that with vessels of all kinds passing at no great distance none
of them had noticed the plight of the motor boat. Had it not been taken
in tow by the runabout, it could not have remained an estray much
longer.
Passing to the eastward of Squirrel Island, Alvin continued southward
until he had rounded Fisherman, when he diverged so as to leave the
Hypocrites on his left and the upper of the White Islands on his right.
This brought him into the section where the derelict had been sighted.
"Now," said Chester, who sat directly behind his chum and close enough
for both to talk freely, "if poor Mike had known how to swim there might
be a faint hope that he had reached one of the small islands not far
off."
"I can't understand how he could have fallen overboard; it would seem
that when he found himself going, he would have grasped something. He
might have seized hold of one of the propeller blades."
"To do that he would have had to keep himself afloat for a brief time,
and we know he could not do that."
Alvin always carried a pair of binoculars on the boat, though they were
not the equal in excellence of those belonging on the runabout. Chester
made continual use of these, while the Captain depended upon his
unassisted eyes to scan the waste of waters. He held the _Deerfoot_ to a
low speed, for he meant to make the search as thorough as he could.
"There's no saying how far out to sea Mike went before turning back----"
"_Hark!_" gasped Alvin, almost leaping from his seat.
And then through the soft still air they heard the call:
"_Arrah, now, ye spalpeens! Come to me arms and obsarve me give an
imitation of a gintleman starving to death!_"