THE START.
The volume of shouts that went up was so tremendous that several other
fellows who happened to be passing the boathouse came rushing in to
find out what had happened.
They found the six intended Mississippi cruisers shaking hands wildly,
and congratulating each other on their good fortune.
There would be some envious fellows in town from that time on, when the
news that the great race had been finally arranged went abroad; for
hardly a boy but who would wish with all his heart and soul that he had
been lucky enough to be in the game.
"Now, let's see that list of yours, Jack!" said Nick, after the
excitement had in a measure subsided, and they could talk coherently
again.
"Yes," observed Josh quickly, "you don't suppose Buster would be able
to sleep a wink unless he knew there was going to be heaps of eatin'
stuff along. For goodness sake, get out your list at the grocer's,
Jack, and let him run it over. If Buster keeps on losing flesh, what
in the world d'ye suppose the blessed old _Comfort's_ going to do for
_ballast_?"
"There you go," declared Nick, reproachfully, "hitting me below the
belt as usual. Ain't I only thinking of the rest of you when I bother
myself about such a thing as grub? Some people have to be tempted with
dainties, to take their daily rations. As for me a cup of coffee, huh,
give me some bread or crackers, a rasher of bacon with eggs, a potato
baked in the ashes of a camp fire--and I'm as happy as a king."
"Oh, yes," Josh went on, persistently, "I admit all that, provided the
_quantity_ is there. Quality seldom enters into your calculations,
Buster. But say, Jack, let's get busy. We've only got one more day,
then comes Sunday, and the morning after----"
"We're off!" cried George, as he cast a fond look toward his swift
speed boat; and then glanced around in a way that told how much he
pitied these poor "chumps" who actually imagined they had a ghost of a
chance to win the long race.
So for an hour and more they put their wise heads together, and conned
the lists Jack produced. Many changes were suggested, some of which
were made, after they had been discussed _pro_ and _con_; for Jack was
open to conviction, though as a rule there was little that he had
forgotten, or that could be bettered in the program.
Then each couple started to examine the boat in which they purposed
taking that long dash toward Dixieland. It was of great importance
that as few accidents as possible occur while on the way south. For,
although an accident in itself would not penalize the contestant, if it
happened to occur during the eight working hours there must be a loss
of time that would lessen the chances for winning out.
"There's only one thing I wish," remarked Herb, as they talked over
these matters, and jotted down a few ideas connected with the race.
"What might that be?" asked Nick, eagerly, for he was taking note of
everything that occurred, and casting envious glances toward the fine
trophy on the box.
"Of course," the other went on, "I hope the reliable old _Comfort_
won't break down once on the trip; and I give you my word I don't
believe she will. But if that _has_ got to happen, I'm wishing it will
be just around four in the afternoon. See the point, fellows?"
"Sure," replied Jimmie, with a grin. "That gives ye the hull night to
be makin' repairs, and without losin' a blissed minute of time. A wise
guy ye are, so I'm thinkin', Herbie."
A close inspection failed to disclose any structural weakness about any
one of the three boats, or their motive power. Of course, each pilot
was convinced in his own mind that he had the best chance to win.
George relied mainly on speed; Herb placed his dependence on the well
known ability of his broad-beamed boat to stand up before heavy seas,
and always get there safely in the end; while with Jack there was a
combination of these several points of excellence.
"Well," the last named remarked, as they prepared to go home, and the
boathouse was being locked up for the night; "I can see where we're
going to have a warm time of it in the last half of the race."
"How's that?" burst forth the eager Nick. "Tell us, Jack; it ain't
fair to keep anything back. Will they arrest us for breaking the speed
laws down south?"
"See!" cried Herb, instantly, "that's where a guilty conscience works
overtime. It's just what he gets for risking his life in that floating
coffin," and he jerked his thumb disdainfully toward the building they
were leaving.
At that the proud owner of the cigar-shaped craft laughed aloud.
"Green with envy already, Herb!" he exclaimed. "Don't you pay any
attention to what he says, Pudding. We're just going to lick the whole
bunch to a frazzle, and that's easy. Now, Jack, suppose you tell us
what's on your mind? How are we going to have lots of trouble in the
last half, more than in the beginning?"
"When you fellows begin to study those maps of the Mississippi I
brought you, it will open your eyes," Jack went on. "Why, the upper
stretches of this river are as straight as a yard stick compared with
what lies below Memphis. If ever you saw a snake turning and twisting
after you've hit him with a stone you've got an idea of what the big
river is down there in Dixie. It forms loops and bends galore. It
turns back north, runs east, then west and for a short time south. For
ten miles southing you make you have to go thirty."
"Well, I understood that was the way; but why should that bother us?"
demanded George. "What's fair for one is fair for all. We'll hug the
easterly shore all we can, and save many a mile."
"Perhaps you will," smiled Jack, "and then again the current races
faster out in the middle, so the boat that ventures may profit by that.
But what I had in mind was the innumerable cut-offs we're apt to
strike."
"Cut-offs!" exclaimed Nick, turning a trifle pale, as though he thought
this had something to do with the favorite southern lynching bee.
"Oh! I know about those things," declared Herb, carelessly.
"Sometimes a native can save twenty miles by shooting through where a
passage runs across a neck of wooded land. But I guess the good old
_Comfort_ will stick to the main stream. I may be the tortoise in this
race, but there's lots of chances the hares will lie down for a little
nap in the way, and let me go past."
"But it's fair to take advantage of a cut-off, ain't it?" asked George.
"Of course it is, if you want to take the chance of getting twisted,
and losing oodles of hours wandering around in some old swamp," Jack
answered.
"Well, they ought to have those cut-offs marked with buoys, or sign
posts," grumbled George.
"Too many changes taking place all the time," Jack replied, showing how
earnestly he had been studying the field. "They just couldn't do it.
But of all three craft, yours ought to be the last one to want to steal
a march on the rest, George."
"Oh, well, I don't expect to be compelled to; but then you never know
what's going to happen. Suppose we had a breakdown, and lost many
hours--it might be up to the _Wireless_ to get busy, and wipe out some
of that slack. But I'm going to study that lower river part till I get
it by heart, bet your boots on that, fellows."
"And me ditto," said Nick, quickly. "None of that lost in the swamp
for me. Just think how awful it would be, boys, wandering around day
after day with snakes and alligators waiting to snap you up! Ugh!"
"That isn't the worst of it, Buster; just imagine the food giving out!
Whatever in the wide world would you do?" asked Jack, with a chuckle.
Nick gave a wild look, and then groaned dismally.
"If it came to a case of drawing lots I just know George would pick out
the lucky number, because he often looks at me now as if he'd like to
eat me," he mumbled, no doubt falling to the joke, but nevertheless
with a vein of seriousness in his voice.
On the following day the six boys haunted the boathouse most of the
time. If anything was forgotten it could not have been for lack of
consultations, since they were constantly putting their heads together,
advising, making little changes in the packing and stowing of things,
and running errands back to their homes and the stores.
When they left at eventime they knew of nothing that could be done to
better conditions. Each boat was in prime condition for the southern
dash of many hundreds of miles, possibly over stormy waters, where
perils of various kinds awaited them.
And doubtless never in the history of those several families were such
restless boys known as during the Sunday that followed. The minutes
seemed to drag as if weighted down with stones.
But the longest day has its end, and finally night came.
Alarm clocks had been set for dawn, but in few cases were they needed,
since the boys were up and doing before the gray had actually crept
into the eastern heavens.
At seven o'clock a crowd began to assemble in the vicinity of the
boathouse from which the start was to be made; for the race was the
event of the season. Every boy in town was on the spot, and the
constables had to keep the crowd from actually swarming over and
swamping the busy contestants and their families.
The three motor boats were ready in the water, with burgees flying and
looking as spic and span as human energy could make them. The silver
trophy was in the possession of Jack's father, and had been admired by
hundreds.
As the time set for the start approached, the six boys manifested
considerable nervousness. But this might be expected even of old
campaigners, not to speak of young lads who, up to now, had possibly
never been more than one or two hundred miles away from home.
Jack was really in command, since he had been elected commodore of the
club by unanimous vote. He seemed capable of keeping his head in a
time of excitement, and that meant a great deal.
Everything had been attended to so far as he knew, and they were now
only waiting for the town clock to boom out the hour of eight, when the
starting toot of his conch shell horn would announce that the race was
on.
It was a foregone conclusion that the speed boat would easily take the
lead, for almost everything had been sacrificed in her construction to
the one prime necessity for reeling off the miles. Nick was quivering
all over with anxiety. He might have backed out only that he chanced
to have a stubborn streak in his make-up, and his word had been given.
But he certainly looked far from happy as he faced the gloomy prospect
of days and days cooped up in that cranky craft, where the least
movement abroad [Transcriber's note: aboard?] set up a dizzy wabbling.
"Got your hair parted exactly in the middle, Buster?" shouted a comrade
from the crowd, noting how the fat boy gripped the sides of the boat
every time the pilot made a sudden little movement that caused the
touchy _Wireless_ to bob or roll.
"Better take a teenty more breath in that right lung, Hippo!" called
another, with cruel intent; but Nick only grinned, and waved his hand,
as though utterly indifferent to their jibes.
Jack looked at his little dollar nickel watch for the last time.
"Five minutes more only, fellows!" he announced. "Get aboard, all!"
Presently they were settled in their places, and the engines had been
started to make sure everything was right for the word "go!"
Then the plain sound of the clock in the town hall came to their ears,
as it started to strike the hour.
"Let loose!" called Jack; and immediately gave several sharp toots on
his shell signal horn.
A storm of wild cheers broke out when the trio of handsome boats shot
off as soon as those on the dock had eased the detaining cables.
"Look at the _Wireless_, will you? Talk about your speed, ain't she
got it to burn, though?" shouted one enthusiast, as the long,
cigar-shaped boat shot ahead, and rapidly opened a gap between herself
and the other contestants.
And minutes before the _Tramp_ and the _Comfort_, she passed out of
sight around the bend in the river, a mile below the town.
As long as the pilots of the other two craft could see the faintest
sign of the home town they were leaving on this long and doubtless
perilous voyage over unknown waters, they could hear the whoops of the
excited people, as they waved the adventurous cruisers and racers an
adieu, with good wishes for a safe journey.