SALUTING A STEAMER.
The Electric Monarch gave a dive and a swoop that caused all Heiny
Dill’s qualms to come back tenfold.
“Himmel! Ve are sinking. Man der boat-lifes!” he yelled, but nobody
paid any attention to him and he speedily recovered his equanimity, and
with his rotund face poked out of the cabin port watched, with as much
interest as any one else on board, the approach of the steamer.
“She’s a Boston and Portland liner bound north,” declared Jack to Ned
Nevins who, as the motor did not need any attention just then, stood at
the young skipper’s side in the pilot house.
“How can you tell?”
“By her smokestack. Black with a white band.”
On came the steamer as the Electric Monarch swooped downward in a
graceful curve to meet her. As the hydroaeroplane commenced her
dive, there burst from the steamer’s whistle a jet of white smoke.
Immediately after, the boys heard the booming greeting of the vessel’s
siren.
Jack pressed the button that controlled the Electric Monarch’s siren
and the next moment the hydroaeroplane was screeching an answering
salute. They were now quite close to the steamer and could see her
uniformed officers on the bridge and her decks black with passengers,
their upturned faces looking like white discs.
“My! I’ll bet there’s a tall lot of speculation going on on board that
craft right now,” said Ned, as the two boys gazed downward.
“I guess you’re right. It isn’t every day that the passengers of a
liner have a chance to see a craft like this in action,” was the
response.
Excitement did, indeed, appear to be rife on board the craft beneath
them. Passengers could be seen clambering to all sorts of points of
vantage. Handkerchiefs were frantically waved and the ship’s whistle
was kept constantly roaring salutes.
Astern of the Electric Monarch fluttered the Stars and Stripes. Jack
snatched up the speaking tube connecting with the stern lookout post.
When Tom responded he ordered him to dip the colors in response to the
steamer’s salutes.
A few moments afterward Jack and Ned saw the liner’s ensign glide
slowly down the jack-staff and then ascend again as she acknowledged
the mid-air courtesy.
“Can’t we turn and follow her?” asked Ned, as the steamer, with a great
creamy bow wave curling away from her sharp cutwater, sped on her way.
“Certainly. For a short distance, anyway. We might as well show them
our paces.”
Jack swung the Electric Monarch in a sharp circle and they could
feel the equilibrium devices grate and vibrate as the big craft was
“banked” at a sharp angle. By this time the steamer had put quite an
interval between herself and the Electric Monarch. But Jack let the
hydroaeroplane out a notch more than he had been doing.
The Electric Monarch answered the quickened impulses of her propellers
like a race horse. In a flash, as it seemed, she was once more abreast
of the steam vessel.
“Look,” cried Ned, suddenly, “there’s a man clambering up on the
jack-staff.”
The venturesome passenger had gained the stern railing. He hopped
to the top of it and then began to swarm up the jack-staff from the
summit of which fluttered the flag. Holding on with one hand he waved
frantically with the other. The boys were in the act of acknowledging
the salute when Jack gave a sharp cry.
“Gracious! He’s overboard!”
Like a stone the man had suddenly dropped from the jack-staff into the
swirling water astern of the steamer. How he had lost his hold was a
mystery. It all happened in a flash. One second he was waving, the next
they saw him falling down into the sea and then the waters closed over
him.
The steamer’s whistle sounded in short quick jerks. It was the signal
to man the lifeboats. The boys could see the passengers and the crew
rushing about in seeming confusion, but in the case of the latter, as
they knew, the apparent chaos represented order.
And now, amidst the white, boiling wake of the vessel, they could make
out the dark speck of a man’s head. He was swimming for his life,
swimming desperately to avoid being drawn into the suction of the
propeller. Jack’s hand sought a lever.
Ned looked at him questioningly. But he did not speak. He was pretty
sure in his own mind what the young skipper of the Electric Monarch was
going to do.
This belief was speedily verified. Jack drew back the lever and the
planes took a downward slant. Simultaneously Jack flashed on the red
lights that signaled to the stern and bow lookouts that a descent
was to be made. Joyce in the bow and Tom in the stern had seen the
accident, but of course had not left their posts. The flash of the red
lamps at their stations apprised them that the Electric Monarch was
about to make her first essay at saving life.
Down shot the big craft with a swiftness that made it seem as if she
must inevitably shoot straight to the bottom of the sea. Even Ned,
secure as he felt while Jack had the wheel, flashed a doubtful look at
the young skipper. But he said nothing and the next moment he was to be
glad that he had remained silent.
With iron nerve, Jack allowed the Electric Monarch to drop like a
swooping fish eagle, and then, without the quiver of a muscle, he
turned apparent disaster aside with a swift manipulation of the
leveling lever. The bow of the Electric Monarch raised and struck the
water at an angle that caused her to glide along the surface much as a
newly launched vessel might take to sea.
It was a masterly bit of handling. The spray flew high above the
Electric Monarch, completely hiding her for an instant from the view of
those on board the steamer. A great cry went up when it was seen that
she was safe and riding like a duck on the heaving surface of the sea.
To many of those on board it had appeared as if the big craft must have
sunk. Their relief expressed itself in a mighty cheer.
Those on board the Monarch felt no less relief. Tom and Joyce had stuck
grimly to their posts but both had felt their hearts beat quicker as
they neared the water. As it was, a good drenching was all they had
received, and they had but scant time to give any attention to that,
for Jack instantly headed the Electric Monarch in the direction in
which the bobbing head of the swimmer had last been seen.
Presently Ned gave a shout.
“There he is!”
Sure enough, not twenty yards from the Electric Monarch as she lay on
the waves, was the form of the swimmer.
“Stick it out! We’ll get you!” shouted Tom, from his post astern.
The swimmer waved a confident hand in reply. He did not appear at all
incommoded by his accident. On the contrary, he was swimming leisurely
as if he rather enjoyed his bath than otherwise. The boys gazed at him
in astonishment. Within the next few minutes they were destined to be
yet more surprised.