WILL THE RACE BE LOST?
Ralph West hung to the tie-hook at the bow with all his might and
main, and succeeded in staying on the _Rocket_.
Cries went up from the thing in front, which was a motor boat with
several men aboard, while Lanky Wallace yelled as loudly as he could
to attract Frank’s attention to the fact that Paul Bird had gone over.
But Frank needed no cry, nor warning, to tell him what had happened.
As he threw the _Rocket_ so far over to evade a collision with the
other boat—and succeeded, missing the other craft by the width of a
hair, he saw Paul thrown by centrifugal force into the water.
Frank knew that Paul could swim. But—was it possible that Paul
had been thrown with enough force to cast him against the other
boat, or might the other boat hit him in the water and thus bring
unconsciousness to him?
There was no time to look around. No time to go into reverse, for he
would first have to check speed forward. No time to throw a lifeline
or a belt. It was swifter, surer action that was demanded at this
moment.
All the alertness, the ability to think quickly and to think surely,
the mental strength of Frank Allen, this boy who had been through
just as tight places on the field and the track, who had several
times before thought himself out of a hole, came to his aid now.
Holding the wheel hard over, Frank sent the _Rocket_ on a complete
circle, and within a radius of about one hundred yards he brought the
boat back again toward the downstream, but above the point where the
collision had so nearly taken place.
During this narrow circle, with centrifugal force tending to cast
Ralph West off the bow of the _Rocket_, Lanky Wallace was holding
tight to the gunwale, stooping low in an effort to keep his center of
gravity close to the boat.
As the _Rocket_ now faced downstream again, Frank cut off the speed,
and reached for the searchlight. But the plug had fallen out in the
trip around, and no light was cast forward!
“Paul! Paul! Are you all right?” yelled Frank as soon as he realized
that his chance of seeing the boy was gone.
“Here!” came a voice from the water, and Frank got the propeller into
reverse, churning the Harrapin into a wild foam in order not to
go past the point and also in order that he might not run down his
friend.
Suddenly a hand shot up out of the water, and Lanky grabbed quickly
to give the boy help. In another minute a very wet Paul Bird came
into the boat from the waters of the Harrapin River.
“Wow! Some wetting!” he gasped.
In the meanwhile the other boat had gone its way quietly, or it
seemed quietly, for no sound had come from it after the cry that
preceded the sudden swerve of the _Rocket_ which averted the
collision.
There was no chance to continue down the river without lights, and
Frank called to Lanky to hold the wheel while he made the repair.
However, Lanky Wallace was not to be denied that single thing which
he could do, for it had become his part of the operation of the
_Rocket_ to see that the lights were in order.
Instead of obeying Frank and taking hold of the wheel, Lanky, knowing
what had happened, or surmising it as well as Frank, groped his way
to the searchlight and felt around for the loose wire. He found it
in a moment, felt along the fallen wire until he found the plug, and
slipped it back into the socket of the swinging search. It almost
seemed that they heard the swish of the light when the connection was
made and the beam suddenly shot out and lighted the Harrapin in a
bright glare.
“Where is that other boat?” asked Lanky Wallace, looking around and
moving the light to and fro over the river. But no motor boat was in
sight. Advantage had been taken, if there was any advantage wanted by
the occupants thereof, and it had disappeared.
“Paul, throw on that rubber coat that’s in the locker aft,” Frank
said to his friend. “I’m as sorry as can be that we gave you that
ducking, but it couldn’t be helped. I had to dodge those fellows,
whoever they were. Wonder why they didn’t stop to help—surely they
knew that some one had gone overboard.”
“I’ll be all right in a little while,” answered Paul. “I’ll get into
this slicker. Keep her going, Frank. Let’s see if we can’t miss
everything between here and Coville.”
He said it with a hearty laughing sound in his voice that brought
about a feeling of cheeriness to the others, who had become nervous
as a result of the double incident.
Frank put the propeller into gear again with the engine, and the
_Rocket_ answered as the steady muffled sound of the exhaust told
them the engine ran smoothly and was ready to do its part of this
arduous night’s duties.
As the _Rocket_ regained its speed, Frank carefully wiped the surface
of the river clean with the bright beams of the electric light, and,
seeing nothing as they proceeded, he allowed the speed to increase
until, within a few minutes, they were again rushing headlong down
the Harrapin.
“Hope that delay won’t cost too much,” breathed Frank through gritted
teeth as he firmly grasped the wheel and held the _Rocket_ down the
center of the river.
Paul and Ralph were no longer lying forward on their stomachs, trying
to see things first. Instead, they were both seated firmly aft of the
cockpit, each holding a rope so that no more such accidents should
happen.
Paul’s teeth chattered for a while, as the wind struck against him,
but the slicker soon had him warmed, in prisoning the heat of his
body, and though the clothes were soaked thoroughly, he was suffering
no inconvenience.
Frank’s eyes were even more watchful of the river than they had been
before, and his grip on the wheel was firmer, every muscle tensed,
ready for action.
A log or two came swinging into sight, floating, but as they were
moving downstream with the steadily flowing current with the narrower
part toward the boat, he was easily able to evade them, though each
of them brought a slight twinge of nervousness.
“How long have we been coming? How far are we?” asked Lanky.
“It’s quite a distance yet to Coville,” muttered Frank, speaking
slowly. “We ought to make it pretty soon, but it’s going to take
speed to get us there and back again, I’m afraid. I only wish there
had been some quicker way to get to that drugstore than this. And,
the worst of it is, that we have to go back yet, and we’ll be going
against the current.”
“Don’t let that worry you, Frank,” replied Lanky reassuringly. “The
_Rocket’s_ showing what’s in her. We’ll get back in nothing flat.”
It was quite true that the _Rocket_ was showing what was in her, for
the bow stood far out of the water now, with the load well aft, and
the wash of the river showed behind them that they were cutting a
slight, though rapid, furrow through the water.
Time brings about a healing influence, and time also brings about a
lack of watchfulness. Just so it was this night.
As the conversation between the boys went on, not spiritedly, but
continuous nevertheless, Frank’s grip on the wheel was relaxed,
though his eyes seemed never to leave the river ahead.
They came to a hairpin bend in the stream, one which was famous as
a place for picnics on the point which jutted into the Harrapin.
The searchlight, fixed ahead, swung around as Frank negotiated, or
started to negotiate, the bend which he had never met before while in
command of a craft.
Like a huge mountain there suddenly loomed from out of the darkness a
great bulk which blocked their path!
“Look out!” yelled Lanky, as the thing came into sight.
But Frank had seen it, had seen the lights on either side, had
seen the tremendous bulk of the thing which looked down upon them
frowningly.
Again the call came to the relaxed muscles to act. Again the mind of
wearied Frank Allen awoke to the necessity for dodging the danger
which impended. Again Frank’s alertness was to the fore.
This time Lanky was ready to help, and a willing and sure hand he
gave as he swung his long body low to the deck of the _Rocket_, and
braced against Frank who stood behind the wheel, turning it as hard
as possible, while his foot reached down to cut off the speed of the
engine.
An old-time barge, its broad, straight-front nose high out of the
water, was floating easily along upstream, with a tugboat at its
side, the steady puff-puff of the tug plainly heard as the rush of
the wind died down.
This time there was some co-operation, however, from those on the
other craft. They had seen the flashlight ahead of them in the bend,
and the helmsman of the tug had been wondering what it was. He had
been alert to any danger.
There was a clanging and clinking of bells, and then the sudden
swish of the water as the towboat’s rudder went into reverse and the
engineer tried hard to slow the pace of the great load which was
hitched alongside.
The _Rocket’s_ propeller was again in reverse, for the second time
within a very short while, and the motor boat came against the side
of the towboat, where great manila ropes stood outward from the
gunwales, and slid with a bump to the midships of the tug.
“Hi, there!” called a heavy voice from the wheel-room of the tug.
“What’s down there? Why not a signal?”
“Beg your pardon, captain,” called back Frank. “I didn’t see you soon
enough. I thought the river was clear and did not slow down much to
make this bend.”
“Go easy, boy,” answered the man at the wheel of the tug, as half a
dozen faces showed up in the dim lights here and there on the sturdy
craft. “Always take that bend same as you would in an auto. Can’t
always tell about these roads.”
There was a heartiness about the voice that was reassuring to the
boys on the _Rocket’s_ deck—the heartiness that is so often met among
sea-faring men.
The boys jollied and talked with the man aboard the tug for a few
minutes, long enough to be courteous, and thanked the skipper for his
work in holding back the speed of the huge bulk until they could get
control of their own craft.
Then Frank got the _Rocket_ under way again, and was soon well
past the obstacle, past the hairpin bend of the river, and headed
downstream again toward Coville.
“There it is!” Paul Bird, his spirits still high notwithstanding his
ducking in the river, was the first to sight the far-off lights of
the town to which they were going.
All the boys looked through the darkness, past the strong beam of
the searchlight as it tried to find everything on the surface of the
water, and saw the flickering lights of the town.
“But I can’t understand,” Frank was still thinking of the incident,
“what became of that motor boat back there and why it disappeared
right at the moment when most folks would have stopped to help.”
“Guess they were like a whole lot of folks on the roads,” replied
Lanky Wallace. “You see lots of them in cars who won’t stop to give a
fellow a helping hand when they see he’s in trouble.”
Fifteen minutes more of steady running of the _Rocket_ brought
them to the landing place at Coville, and there, standing under an
electric light, was a man waving to them to come to him.
It was the druggist with the package for the doctor at the hospital
in Columbia.
“Doc told me to meet you boys down here at the wharf—and here is the
package. Keep your motor running and turn her upstream right away.
And here’s another package I brought. It’s a lot of cold drinks for
you and a sandwich for each one. You’ll need them, boys.”
“That’s mighty good of you.” Frank felt very grateful to the man for
his kindness. “Send the bill up to the doctor and it’ll be paid right
away. Thank you ever so much.”
Lanky reached out for the packages as the _Rocket_ ran in close to
the wharf, running alongside, Frank holding a foot off so that they
might slip easily by and start back up the Harrapin with the least
possible loss of time. Minutes were counting now. Frank realized it,
and feared it as well.
“Gee, that was good of him,” Paul was munching on one of the
sandwiches, the _Rocket_ back in the middle of the river, the engine
humming at full speed, and the bow of the motor craft holding high
out of the water as it moved rapidly forward.
Mile after mile slipped from under them, Frank’s grip on the wheel
sure and steady, while Paul and Ralph lay back and went to sleep.
Lanky, though, was alert to every movement of the boat.
“Here’s where we passed that boat, about,” he muttered to Frank, when
it seemed that many, many hours had passed.
Just then the motor spit, puffed, throbbed, popped at the exhaust,
and came to a dead stop. Something had gone wrong. Frank recognized
that series of noises of a gasoline engine. It could be nothing else.
Out on the Harrapin, miles away from home, fighting their way back to
Columbia as hard as they could, they were out of gasoline!