TOM TO THE RESCUE.
With a feeling of anxiety such as he had never before known, Tom leaned
out over the stern framework. He had hazarded a guess that Ned might
have been rash enough to have attempted to gain the stern propeller
bearings.
But his surprise and relief were not any the less on that account
when he saw, lying limp and senseless across the slender stern shaft
supports, the body of his young chum, for such Ned had grown to be in
their weeks of work and association.
“Great Glory!” he exclaimed in his relief. “Heiny, hurray! he’s alive.
Had an attack of air-sickness I guess, and it’s knocked him out.”
But in the midst of his jubilation came another thought,--a reflection
that sent the hot blood curdling like ice water through Tom’s veins.
Suppose the boy were suddenly to regain consciousness and, not
realizing where he was, attempt to raise himself? In such a case he
must inevitably be dashed to death through space.
Still further reflection, after the first gush of his joy at finding
his comrade alive had subsided, convinced Tom that to get him on board
from his perilous position would be no mean undertaking in itself. Ned
lay some eight feet out from the end of the “running-bridge.” His inert
form was balanced across the swaying, vibrating framework. Would that
framework--it looked as slender as a spider’s web--bear the weight of
the two boys?
Tom thought it would. He knew the care with which every section of the
Electric Monarch had been constructed. Every rivet and bolt in her had
been tested and retested to three times the strain that would be placed
upon it.
“I’ll risk it,” decided Tom. “Here, Heiny, hold my coat.”
He stripped off his khaki Norfolk swiftly and handed it to the German
who, too stupefied by the sight of Ned’s perilous position to say
anything, stood gaping, open-mouthed, powerless to speak or move. He
took Tom’s coat mechanically. Then speech came to him.
“Vot you do, hein?”
“Can’t you see I’m going out there to get Ned on board again?”
“Himmel! You preak your neg.”
“I don’t think so.”
So saying Tom cautiously got astride of the framework, and began
worming his way toward Ned’s still form. It was terrible work, but Tom
knew that the return trip would be still more accompanied by peril.
Steeling himself to the task in hand, he worked slowly forward while
Heiny stood petrified watching him.
Foot by foot, or inch by inch, as it seemed to Tom, he drew closer to
the form of the boy he had come to rescue. At last he could touch him
and look into his white face.
The boy lay as limp as a bundle, and in Tom’s eyes it was better so. It
made his task so much the easier. He extended his hands and got a firm
grip on Ned’s body.
Then he began to work his way backwards. It was agonizing work. In
order to keep Ned balanced on the narrow strut, he was compelled to use
only his feet to steady himself. Both hands were required to hold Ned
on the perilous perch. Tom dared not look downward. The thought of the
profundity of space that lay beneath them made him sick and dizzy.
Tom could never tell just how that journey was made. It was only a few
feet, but it seemed like so many miles. Ever present in his mind, too,
was the danger of Ned’s regaining consciousness and making some sudden
move. In such a case they might both be doomed to death.
[Illustration: He extended his hands and got a firm grip on Ned’s
body.--_Page_ 190]
The wind from the propellers blew against Tom with vicious intensity.
His legs ached as if they would drop off, for he had them alone to
depend on both for balance and motion. But at last, somehow or other,
he came within reach of Heiny Dill’s grasp.
The German lad was ready. As Tom felt the last ounce of his strength
oozing from him he felt, too, a strong grasp on his shoulders.
“Stetty! Stetty!” came a voice in his ears.
“I’m all right,” muttered Tom thickly. He helped Heiny drag Ned in to
safety and then he, too, almost gave out. But he knew that Jack in
the pilot house would be eagerly awaiting news. So putting aside his
weariness he seized the stern speaking tube and sent the good news
to the young commander. This done, Ned was taken to the cabin and
restoratives administered from the Electric Monarch’s medicine chest,
with which she had been provided in the anticipation that some day the
boys might want to take a long voyage.
Ned, who was naturally full of vitality, was soon himself again and
insisted on taking his watch at the motors. As for Tom, his buoyant
nature took even less time in recovering from the strain that had been
put upon it. We will leave it to the imagination what the boys had to
say to each other when Ned learned that it was Tom who had saved his
life at the risk of his own.
Not long after this Jack, who had taken the craft quite a distance out
to sea, determined to turn back landward and make a swift flight home.
He judged they had done quite enough to prove the Electric Monarch’s
worth and in this the others agreed with him.
They were perhaps a mile off the shore when Joyce, on the lookout
forward, gave a sudden sharp hail through the speaking tube.
“Ship below us, sir.”
“What is she?” hailed back Jack.
“Looks like a steamer. Passenger boat, I guess.”
“I reckon I’ll give her a call,” said Jack to himself as he hung up the
tube. “My! won’t her passengers be surprised, though.”
He took out the binoculars and had a look at the steamer Joyce had made
out. She was a fair-sized vessel with one black funnel amidships. Her
white upperworks showed she was a passenger craft.
Jack hailed Ned Nevins on the engine platform.
“Put on your best bib and tucker, Ned, we’re going calling.”
“Calling!” came back the astonished exclamation.
“Yes, deep sea calling. Hail Tom and tell him to look his prettiest.
Too bad we didn’t bring any cards.”