A NEW RECRUIT.
It was about an hour after luncheon, which, naturally enough, with all
that had to be related, had been a rather protracted meal. The party of
which the Boy Scouts and their naval friend had so unexpectedly become
members was foregathered beneath the stern awning in comfortable wicker
chairs.
The ensign was relating to Mr. Grant, under pledge of secrecy, some
details of the work which was expected to be accomplished on the lonely
island. Mr. Grant, who was intensely interested, agreed to put the
officer and his young charges ashore at Charleston or some convenient
port, provided the _Seneca_ could not be reached by wireless. The boys
were secretly hoping that this would prove impossible, that they might
protract their cruise on the _Brigand_.
Donald and the boys had instinctively become chums. The millionaire's
son was a manly, self-reliant sort of chap, with crisp, curly hair, and
blue eyes that could be merry or determined. Then, too, he was a
first-class Scout and deeply versed in Scout lore. In fact, the Eagles
were no more than a match for the knowledge of this young Wolf.
While the ensign and Mr. Grant chatted, they watched the youngsters with
interest. When Donald had carried them off to show them the _Brigand_
from stem to stern, as he expressed it, Mr. Grant laid down his cigar
and, turning to the ensign, said, with his customary abruptness:
"Could you use another Boy Scout on this work?"
"Well--I--really, I've hardly considered it," was the astonished
rejoinder.
"If you could, I have one for you."
"You mean your son Donald?"
"Yes. He is a manly, fine lad, but he has been a little bit coddled by
his mother and sisters. Now he and these other boys appear to get along
famously, and they are just the sort of lads I should like my boy to
associate with."
The naval officer nodded.
"I never saw or heard of such another lot of lads as those comprising
the Eagle Patrol," he said with emphasis; "although, of course," he
continued, "there are probably many such enrolled in the ranks of the
Boy Scouts."
"I don't doubt it. Donald is a different lad already since he joined the
Wolf Patrol. Now this cruise of mine will be dull at best to the lad.
You see I am combining business with pleasure, and he will be thrown
much on his own resources. He has seen the West Indies before, so there
would not be much that is novel to him in the scenery or the people.
What do you say to my proposal?"
Cigar in hand, the great man of Wall Street paused for an answer,
knitting his famous black eyebrows as he did so.
"Why, if Donald is anxious to go, I don't see why it could not be
arranged," was the ensign's reply; "but why not ask the lad himself?"
"And your boys, too, of course," was the rejoinder; "they might object
to adding an outsider to their number."
"Not much fear of that," smiled the officer; "why, you would think they
had been lifelong friends. Hark at that!"
A merry peal of laughter came ringing from somewhere about the ship.
At this juncture, a young man in a natty uniform came hastening up. He
bore a slip of yellow paper which he respectfully handed to the Wall
Street magnate.
"Ah, Collins,--Mr. Hargreaves, this is our wireless operator."
The ensign nodded while Mr. Grant gazed over the message.
"So you picked her up, eh, Collins?" he said, handing the message he had
just perused over to the ensign.
"Yes, sir. It appears that after missing the derelict in the fog the
_Seneca_ cruised in circles looking for her. She is now within ten miles
of us."
"So I see by this message," struck in the ensign; "we are fortunate not
to have drifted further."
"What do you wish to do?" inquired Mr. Grant.
"Naturally, to be transferred to my own ship, if you will be so kind."
Mr. Grant nodded.
"Collins, get our exact position from the captain, signal it to the
_Seneca_, and tell her we will lay off and on here till she arrives."
"Very well, sir," said the man of the wireless, with a bow.
He had hardly withdrawn when the boys came up, fresh from their
inspection of the _Brigand_. All were loud in praise of the craft,
especially Rob and Merritt.
"Would you rather cruise on this craft or go on the duty for Uncle Sam
which lies before you?" asked Mr. Grant quizzically.
The Boy Scouts drew themselves up.
"Why, sir, our duty to our country comes before pleasure," declared Rob,
acting as spokesman. "Cruising about is all right, but we Boy Scouts
like to be doing something useful for somebody else, but most of all for
Uncle Sam."
Rob paused, rather alarmed at his temerity at thus addressing one of the
richest men in the world.
"So you think I am wasting my time cruising, eh?" said Mr. Grant
amusedly glancing at the upright, slender boy before him from under his
heavy brows.
It was impossible to tell whether he was displeased or not. But Rob
decided not to recede from his position. He knew that the Boy Scouts
were supposed to be manly, self-reliant, and upright under all
conditions. So putting his fears of offending the man before him aside,
he spoke up boldly:
"It's different for you, sir. Your life work has raised your monument;
but I think, and I guess my Patrol agrees with me, that it is better for
boys to be on active duty and," he added, his eyes flashing and his
cheeks glowing, "especially such service as we are now going on.
It's--it's glorious," he concluded breathlessly.
"I think you are quite right, my boy," was the magnate's reply, a very
different one from the rejoinder Rob had dreaded.
"I hope you don't think me presumptuous or impudent," replied Rob, "but
you asked my opinion, and you know, sir, we Boy Scouts must always tell
the truth. Perhaps it seems a poor return after you saved our lives,
to----"
But Mr. Grant cut the boy short with a wave of the hand.
"Nonsense, all I did was to stand by and watch. If Donald had not
understood those smoke signals, you might not be on earth now. But in
return, I want to ask you to do something for him."
Rob nodded respectfully but said nothing. He wondered greatly what could
be coming next.
"I want you to take Donald with you on this duty for Uncle Sam. The
ensign here has agreed. Are you willing to make my son one of your
party?"
"Are we willing?" stammered out Rob. "Why, sir, we've just been
discussing what a shame it was that he had to go on a stupid old
cruise--I beg your pardon, on a cruise--when real work lay ahead,
and----"
But Donald had danced up to his father cheering and throwing his hat in
the air. Then he rushed up to his newly-found comrades and a
hand-shaking and "bear hugging" match ensued, such as is rarely seen
except among lads who are real companions, bound together by a common
bond.
Suddenly above the tumult Rob's voice sounded.
"Boys, let's give the cry of the Wolf Patrol!"
Instantly savage growls resounded, and after that the Eagles joined
hands, formed a circle about Donald, and danced a sort of war dance of
joy, concluding with the screaming cry of their Patrol.
Mr. Grant and Ensign Hargreaves smilingly watched this scene.
When something like order had been restored, the latter announced the
closeness of the _Seneca_.
This, too, was greeted with a cheer, which was cut short by the
reappearance of Collins.
"I've been talking with the _Seneca_, sir, and he says that they are
proceeding here at full speed."
"Good. That will do, unless you have any communications to make," said
Mr. Grant, turning to the ensign.
"No, sir, none whatever," was the reply.
It was ten minutes later when Rob's sharp eye descried a trail of smoke
on the horizon. A short time after, by the aid of glasses, the craft was
made out to be the _Seneca_, bound at full speed for the yacht. On the
latter's signal-halliards up went a gaudy string of signal flags
announcing her identity. The signal was answered from the Derelict
Destroyer, which also fired a gun in honor of the recovery of the
castaways.
By midafternoon good-byes, warm and hearty, had been said, three ringing
cheers exchanged between the crews of both craft, and the _Brigand_ was
headed due south, while the _Seneca_ made in toward the coast. Long
before sunset both craft had vanished from each other's sight.
"So that was one derelict that Uncle Sam did not have to destroy,"
laughed Ensign Hargreaves to Lieutenant Murray as they stood side by
side on the bridge.
"No," rejoined the other, "she committed suicide; but if it hadn't been
for our young recruit, Donald, she wouldn't have gone to her grave
alone!"