A VOICE IN THE NIGHT
Captain Jack stepped inside, with an exclamation, and gave the
fly-wheel a twist.
“What’s wrong with the thing?” queried Bob Somers.
“Don’t know yet,” answered Jack, his tone betraying a trace of anxiety,
“but I’ll find out in a jiffy--have to; the tide’s carrying us right
out, and it’s a risky business floating around on the river at this
time o’ night. Get outside, Joe, and keep your eyes peeled.”
Jack set to work. He first tested the batteries, and found them in
working order, then examined the spark plugs.
“Nothing the matter there,” he remarked, in a perplexed tone.
“Feed pipe all right?” asked Aleck.
“Of course it’s all right.”
“How about the carburetor?” said Dave.
“Can’t see anything wrong with that; and I’m not going to take it
apart unless I have to.”
“Try the engine again,” suggested Bob, after they had spent some little
time upon it.
Jack did so; but the only result was one faint report.
“Very queer,” he mused.
“All right?” called a voice from outside.
“Certainly,” responded Jack; “except that it won’t go.”
Jack threw himself upon the bench, and started to think it out. While
thus engaged, and, for the moment, quite oblivious to his surroundings,
he was startled by exclamations from his chums.
“Hey there!” shouted Joe in excited tones, as he suddenly popped his
head inside. “Somebody out on the river yelling for help--listen!”
The boys made a concerted dash for the deck, just as a faint cry
floated over the air.
“By Jingo, I wonder what that means!” cried Bob, looking eagerly
around. “Which side does it come from?--Hello; I see something out
there.”
“Where--where?” chorused the others.
“Right to the left of Yonkers. Jiminy, the moon had to go back of a
cloud just at the wrong time.”
“Help!”
The cry again caused their nerves to tingle, and all strained their
eyes in the direction which Bob pointed out.
As a flood of pale moonlight once more streamed between the clouds, a
dark object could be seen not more than a quarter of a mile away.
“That’s it, sure enough!” cried Aleck excitedly. “Looks like a rowboat.
Somebody may be in a pretty bad pickle, and no boats near enough to
help him. If our engine was only all right, we might get there in time
ourselves. There, he hollered again.”
“What’s to be done?” asked Joe, blankly.
The boys looked at each other and shook their heads. Then Bob Somers’
lips suddenly tightened and an expression came over his face which the
Ramblers knew from experience meant a determined resolve.
“Fellows,” he said, quickly, “I’m going out in the dory. We can’t stand
around and not try to help him.”
“Good boy,” said Joe. “That’s the idea exactly. Let me go along, eh?”
But Bob shook his head.
“Can’t, Joe,” he answered, laconically. “Not room enough. Do what you
can with the engine, Jack, and all keep a sharp lookout. I’m off.
What’s that?”
A faint ray of light suddenly flashed its way through the darkness,
slowly moved up and down, then swung around and disappeared.
“Search-light,” cried Bob, hurriedly. “Some steamer coming along--yes,
there it is. See--away off? But I can’t wait.”
He dashed inside, seized the oars, while Joe Preston hauled in the rope
and the dory was brought alongside.
Bob speedily clambered in and set a lantern in the bow, then with the
aid of an oar, shoved off.
“Look out for yourself,” cried Jack Lyons. “For goodness’ sake, be
careful.”
“Don’t bother about me, fellows,” said Bob, cheerily, and he bent to
the oars, while his excited friends watched the dory melting into the
darkness, the lantern reflecting in erratic, wriggling lines.
Bob pulled with long, steady strokes. Every ounce of strength in
his muscular arms was brought into play, and in a few moments the
house-boat assumed a strange, weird appearance in the gloom. He
could still hear the voices of his chums, and yelled a cheery, “All
right, fellows,” then strove with might and main, as another call for
assistance was borne to his ears.
The choppy water lapped and gurgled, and the dory’s sharp bow plunging
in sent a shower of drops flying aboard. It was all very dark and
mysterious on the river and a strange sense of loneliness stole over
the young skipper. The waves were higher now, and as they bore down
upon the frail craft its occupant was forced to carefully judge his
strokes.
Again the ray of the search-light flashed across the water and a glance
over his shoulder enabled him to get a clear view of the approaching
steamboat.
“If the sky were only clear, it would be twice as easy,” he murmured.
“Still, I haven’t much further to go. Whew, this is quite an adventure
for the first day.”
The rowboat was not far ahead now, and, as the moon again appeared in
view, Bob saw in it a man waving his arms.
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” he yelled, and an answering shout
floated over the water.
But the last stretch dragged out, and when, with aching arms and
panting breath, Bob neared the boatman in distress, the steamer with
the flaring search-light was not far away.
“You’re just in time,” called the man, over the intervening space. “My
old boat sprung a leak and is half full of water.”
His voice was pleasant and youthful, and when the rays of the lantern
fell across him, Bob saw the good-looking, clear-cut features of a man
about twenty-one.
“By George, I owe you a debt of gratitude,” he cried, in a tone of
great relief. “I’m not much of a swimmer.”
He laughed, nervously, then paused and looked at Bob in surprise.
“Why!” he exclaimed, “I--never--expected to----” and he stopped again.
“Expected what?” asked Bob.
“Well, to speak frankly, I’m surprised to see a boy. Where in the
world did you come from?”
“We--that is some fellows and myself--have a house-boat over there,”
explained Bob, waving his hand. “See those lights over there? That’s
it. Heard you shout, but couldn’t come over because the engine’s out of
order.”
“In search of adventures,” laughed the young man, who seemed to have
recovered from his scare.
“Yes, and this is number one,” grinned Bob. “Be careful when you climb
aboard--this dory’s a cranky little boat--mighty easy to upset.”
“And we must look out for the swells from that steamer. Guess it’s one
of the Albany boats.”
Bob skilfully paddled close to the sinking boat and glanced at the
steamer not a hundred yards away. Her windows were aglow with lights
and the water close by quivered and shook like molten gold. A powerful
search-light cut its way against the blackness, and Bob uttered an
exclamation as its rays suddenly swept across the rugged face of the
Palisades, bringing out their forms with strange sharpness against the
clouded sky.
As yet, the young man had made no move to clamber aboard, and Bob
rightly guessed that he was waiting until the swells due from the
steamer should have subsided.
For the moment, the weird pictures brought into view by the
search-light held him in a spell. Alternating lights and shadows played
fantastically over the rocks. Then it vanished. Deep gloom again
enfolded the cliffs, and the search-light, slowly sweeping across the
dark river, picked out the familiar form of the “Gray Gull.”
“Look!” gasped Bob, in delight.
There, bathed in the electric beams, the strange-looking house-boat
could be seen, floating out on the tide. As if those on the steamer
wished to study such an unusual sight, the light was played upon it for
several moments. Then the night suddenly covered it again.
Having had his eyes fixed steadily on the search-light, Bob found that
his surroundings assumed a very black and forbidding appearance. The
waves splashed and lapped with a peculiar, monotonous chant, and over
the air came the river noises, the puffing of tugs and whistles of
various boats in the distance.
As the dory answered to the call of the choppy masses, Bob thought of
his situation, adrift on the great Hudson. How strange and mysterious
it seemed, with both shores lost in the gloom of night.
“Look alive there; it’s coming!”
A long roller was rushing shoreward, followed by a succession of
others. Bob saw them looming dimly in the half-obscured moonlight. The
foremost seemed to glimmer for an instant, then the dory was carried
high over its foaming crest and plunged down on the other side, to meet
another which sent it heeling almost to the gunwale, while drenching
spray dashed over the skipper.
For an instant, the water battled with fury against the frail craft,
but Bob Somers’ arms were sturdy, and he managed to keep the dory
headed toward the waves. Soon the violent wobbling ceased, and he
pulled alongside the other boat.
“I’m just as wet as you are, now,” he said, with a smile, “even though
we’re not in the same boat,” and Bob chuckled at his own witticism.
“Ready? I’ve got her tight.”
“Yes, ready now,” answered the stranger.
He stepped lightly from one boat into the other. Then Bob quickly
fastened a line to the water-logged craft.
“I certainly am thankful for your timely aid,” said the young man,
extending his hand. “Perhaps I oughtn’t to admit it, but I was getting
pretty badly scared. I was afraid that my boat might go down at any
minute. I’m completely played out--couldn’t make any headway at all. My
name is Norman Redfern.”
Bob introduced himself and, in a few words, explained about their trip.
“How did your boat happen to spring a leak?” he asked.
“I don’t know. But I noticed a bit of water coming in when I rowed over
to Yonkers. It wasn’t much, and I thought it had merely splashed over
the side. Coming back, though, it got worse and I finally decided that
if any one was within hearing distance I needed his help.”
“Glad we heard you,” said Bob, heartily.
Progress with the other boat in tow was very slow, and the boy’s arms
began to ache. He cast many a glance over his shoulder, to note the
position of the “Gray Gull,” which was revealed by the lanterns.
“Hard work, eh?” remarked Norman. “Let me give you a hand.”
But Bob shook his head and pulled away, while the perspiration poured
over his face.
“Listen!” he exclaimed presently. “Listen!”
A steady chug-chug suddenly started up, and the faint lights began to
slowly move toward them.
“Isn’t that great?” panted Bob, gleefully. “Hooray! We’ll just wait for
’em on the bosom of the rolling deep.”
“Good idea,” assented the other.
And Bob, lolling back, watched the house-boat’s lights growing brighter
with great satisfaction.
“Hello, fellows!” he yelled, with all the strength of his lusty lungs;
and a chorus of voices immediately answered from the distance.
In a short time, the “Gray Gull” loomed up close at hand, and a loud
cheer arose when the eager boys saw Bob and his companion safe and
sound. The pulsation of the engine ceased, and the house-boat came to a
stop. Then the two were helped aboard, while Confuse-us, alarmed at the
noise, fled in terror to the darkest corner.
Mutual explanations and introductions followed.
“What was the matter with the engine?” asked Bob.
“Nothing. The supply of gasoline gave out, and but for those extra cans
we might have floated for--well, put it down at as many days as you
like.”
Fred Winter laughed, then added, “Joe Preston was going to see that it
was full, and, of course----”
“Forgot,” finished Joe, not in the least disturbed. “Next time I’m
going to sublet my contract. Hard work doesn’t agree--well say, Bob,
what’s the matter--waves out there mountain high, or just a cloudburst?”
Then the whole story had to come out, and a ripple of mirth went around
the room.
As the rescued boatman stood in the brightly-lighted interior of the
house-boat, the four saw that he was a very good-looking young man of
slight build. His refined speech and manner were in striking contrast
to his worn and threadbare clothes.
He was enthusiastic about the house-boat trip.
“I wish I were going with you,” he said rather wistfully. “If you
use your eyes to advantage a great deal can be learned. Travel
broadens one’s views, and even in a short trip of this sort habits of
self-reliance are formed. How far are you going--to Albany, eh?”
The smile on his face suddenly vanished, and he gazed reflectively at
the floor.
“Know the city?” asked Joe.
“Yes, very well. It’s a nice town, and I----” He stopped short and
looked at his watch, then added, “Hello! What’s that in the corner--a
telescope?”
“Yes,” answered Fred. “Some night we’re going to have a look at the
stars.”
Norman Redfern seemed greatly interested; he walked over, picked up the
instrument and examined it carefully.
[Illustration: “I WISH I WERE GOING WITH YOU”]
“A very good one,” he said, approvingly. “Too bad the boat isn’t
steady enough for us to take an observation.”
“Why not go ashore?” asked Fred, eagerly.
Redfern glanced at the others, and they nodded.
“A great idea,” said Bob; “though it isn’t a very good night.”
“We can get flying glimpses between the flying clouds,” grinned Tom.
“Come ahead.”
The “Gray Gull” was headed for shore. Jack Lyons took her in as far
as he dared; then the anchor was put over, and the house-boat came to
a rest for the night. The Palisades, dim and mysterious, loomed high
above them. From the shore came the musical sighing of the trees, and
faint rustlings, as the underbrush was swayed by the gentle breeze. To
the boys, it sounded very much like footsteps going and coming; and
more than one felt rather creepy sensations steal through him.
Jack, Norman Redfern and Joe Preston jumped into the dory and pulled
away, with the other boat in tow.
“Isn’t it dark?” observed Norman.
“Kind o’ spooky,” said Joe.
“And awful gloomy,” chimed in Jack.
Jack landed his passengers; then returned for the others. As they
walked along, the flashing rays of their lantern flitted over the shore
in a strangely fantastic manner, now and then dimmed by a flood of pale
moonlight.
“Here’s a pretty good tree,” declared Dave Brandon, at length. “Only
wish we’d brought our telescope stand along. Still, this lower limb
will do as a rest.”
“Yes; that’s the idea,” said Fred.
“Of course,” went on Redfern, “this is a very poor way to use a
telescope; a firm stand is essential, even for small instruments; and a
moonless night would be much better for observing the stars. But Luna
herself is such an interesting object that we should be satisfied. How
many of you have seen it?”
“I have,” answered Jack, “at the Harvard observatory.”
“And we fellows have often studied it through Dave’s telescope,” said
Bob.
“Who discovered the moon?” asked Joe.
“Do get over your silliness,” said Fred, witheringly. “It’s growing on
you.”
Jack was allowed first glimpse through the telescope.
The surface of the moon, with its mountains and deep black craters and
portions here and there just a shade less brilliant than the rest,
is always an interesting object, and Jack uttered an exclamation of
pleasure as he placed his eye to the tube.
“What are those funny light streaks near the bottom?” he asked.
“Do they all seem to radiate from one of the craters?”
“Yes,” said Jack. “And, my, but don’t they spread out for a distance,
though?”
“Their nature is not perfectly understood,” explained Redfern. “It is
generally believed that they are in some way connected with volcanic
upheavals, but just exactly what story they have to tell no one knows.”
“Very strange,” murmured Jack.
“Don’t suppose that even Joe knows all about it,” remarked Fred Winter.
“Never looked through a telescope--that’s the reason,” retorted
Preston, with a laugh.
“Don’t some of those craters look black, though?” said Jack.
“That’s due to the absence of any atmosphere on the moon,” commented
Norman. “You know of course that there’s no water or vegetation to be
found on its surface. If you were there, you would see no soft, hazy
effects, nothing but a brilliant glare, intensely black shadows and
sharp contrasts. Of course,” he added, “this is the general nature of
all lunar landscapes--it would be modified to a greater or less degree
by circumstances.”
“I had an idea it would be something like that,” came from Joe.
Fred really seemed to be hurt at such levity, but he said nothing, and
looked at Redfern as if waiting for him to continue.
“The sky would be black,” went on the latter, “and the sun brighter
than we ever see it on the earth. Some shadows would also be absolutely
black, because all light is cut off; others might be faintly
illuminated by the reflection from some mountain wall.”
“And even the parts in sunlight would show a lot of differences,” said
Joe. “I----”
“Go on, Redfern,” said Fred, hastily.
“Oh, Joe’s all right. There would be differences, of course. The
varying character of the surfaces, some darker than others, would have
an effect; and the angle they presented to the sun must still further
increase or lessen their brilliancy. All told, however, these things
would hardly be sufficient to do more than slightly modify the general
effect.”
“What’s the name of that crater?” asked Jack, several minutes later; “I
mean the one with those funny streaks shooting off all around.”
“Copernicus.”
“Well,” remarked Jack, “it certainly looks great. Keep away, Fred
Winter; I haven’t finished yet.”
“Scrap beginning already,” chuckled Joe. “Bring Confuse-us ashore, and
sic the dog on him, Jack.”
“Wonder how the moon ever got there?” put in Aleck Hunt, reflectively.
“Astronomers have various theories,” answered Redfern, with a smile.
“Some contend that it was thrown off from the earth; while others think
that it was once a part of the sun.”
The telescope was next turned upon the planet Mars. Norman Redfern
spoke quite like a professor addressing his class.
“Mars is now about as near as it ever gets to be,” he said. “Put it
down at about thirty-five million miles, and you’ll be very nearly
correct. The so-called canals were discovered by an Italian astronomer
named Schiaparelli.”
“My, but you talk like a book,” said Joe, a little awed.
“I can’t see those canals,” remarked Aleck, with his eye to the tube.
“Doesn’t look like anything more than a little round dot.”
“Very likely not,” said Redfern, dryly. “It requires a powerful
telescope. At Flagstaff, Arizona, the astronomers have made many
photographs of the planet, and on these the faint lines are
distinguishable.”
“Mighty interesting,” murmured Jack. “Canals, eh? You mean somebody dug
them?”
Redfern smiled. “Well, that’s what is claimed,” he said. “But I’m bound
to say not all the astronomers believe it, yet. I can get some books
that tell all about it, if you like.”
“Say, will you?” exclaimed Fred. “I’d like to know about that.”
Jupiter, with its four moons, the boys found better suited to the power
of their telescope. The disc was large enough to show a faint dark line
crossing it, while the satellites were strung out all on one side, like
a row of tiny stars.
Of course, Saturn came in for a share of their attention, and although
its rings were visible as nothing more than an extremely small oval,
they found it decidedly interesting.
Owing to the unfavorable weather conditions, it took the boys a very
long time to make their observations; and when Bob Somers looked at his
watch, he uttered an exclamation.
“Good gracious--nearly half-past ten!” he cried.
“Well, we’ve passed a fine, profitable evening,” declared Fred, “and
owe Redfern a vote of thanks.”
“You bet,” chimed in Jack.
The young man smiled.
“I have enjoyed it, too,” he said. “Now, I must be going; but I’d be
mighty glad if you would pay me a visit before you leave. I live close
by. It isn’t much of a place--to be plain, just a wooden shack.”
“Look out for us to-morrow morning,” said Jack, promptly.
After receiving instructions where to find him, the boys rowed back to
the house-boat, the clanking oars sounding strangely distinct.
The novelty of their situation at first prevented several from
sleeping; but about midnight slumber finally overtook them all, and
thus ended their first day on the Hudson.