BACK TO BAYPORT
Captain Royal was unconscious, but he was still breathing. There was a
bad cut on his head and it had bled profusely.
"We'd better get him to a doctor right away!" said Joe.
"I don't think he's been badly hurt." Chet began feeling the
unconscious man's ribs. "There are no bones broken, at any rate. He hit
his head against a rock, I guess."
"The blow on the head knocked him cold," Biff remarked.
"Perhaps he's got concussion of the brain."
"In that case, he needs a doctor," Joe said.
"How about Frank?"
But Frank was already sitting up.
"I'm all right," he told them. "I'm just about all in, but I'll be as
right as rain in a few minutes. Whew, those waves sure battered me
about, I'll tell the world!"
"We never expected to see you come back alive," Chet told him.
"It was pretty bad coming back," Frank admitted. "The captain is
heavier than he looks!"
"He's still alive, at any rate."
"Isn't he conscious yet?"
"Not a bit of it. He's breathing, but he's still dead to the world, and
there's no sign that he's coming to."
"Well, we've got to get him to a doctor, that's all," declared Frank
decisively.
He got to his feet, exhausted though he was.
"Do you mean that we'll carry him back to the road?" asked Joe.
"We'll take him right back to Bayport. That's where the nearest
hospital is that we know anything about." Frank looked down at the
unconscious man. "He's in bad shape. If he were just stunned, he'd be
awake by now. Chances are, his skull is fractured. That's a bad cut."
The boys looked down at the unconscious Captain Royal, sprawled limply
on the sand.
"It's a long haul," demurred Biff.
"We can't leave him here. We can't do anything for him ourselves, you
know that."
"You're right." Biff bent over and grasped the unconscious man's feet.
"Give me a hand with him, some one."
Chet and Joe helped him. They raised Captain Royal from the ground and
began carrying him up the beach. Frank went on ahead, still weak from
the effects of his grueling ordeal in rescuing the eccentric old man
from the sea.
Captain Royal showed no signs of returning consciousness. He was a dead
weight as the boys carried him on past his own cave, past the place
where Carl Schaum had been hiding, past the boys' cave. There the lads
rested, before undertaking the hard climb up the path to the top of the
cliff.
They tried all the first aid measures they had ever heard of, but
Captain Royal still remained unconscious. The cut on his head was not
bleeding any more; his breathing was heavy, and the lads saw that it
was no ordinary case of being rendered senseless by a blow on the head.
"A doctor is the only thing," declared Frank. "His lungs are clear of
water, so he's all right in that respect. He must have struck his head
when he was washed in among those rocks."
"Well, let's get busy then," said Biff, who was no laggard. "We had
better get him to the hospital as quickly as we can."
They took turns carrying Captain Royal up the path that led to the top
of the cliff. It was an arduous climb, and it was late in the afternoon
before they finally reached the rocks above. Then they rested once more
before starting the journey to the fisherman's cottage.
"Thank goodness, he has a car," said Joe. "He'll help us take him in to
the city. We would never be able to carry him on the motorcycles."
"A queer end to our exploration trip," grunted Chet.
Puffing and panting, they carried the unconscious man on over the rocks
until they came to the path leading down to the fisherman's cottage.
There they rested again.
Finally, after a halting descent, they came to the cottage. Their
friend, the fisherman, was fortunately at home. Accompanied by his
wife, he came running out when the boys appeared in sight with their
burden.
"First it's a prisoner and now it's a sick man!" he exclaimed, as he
drew near. "I declare, you chaps seem to scare up more excitement than
anybody that ever came to Honeycomb Caves."
"This is an old man who was living in one of the caves," explained
Frank. "He fell off a cliff and hurt himself. Do you think you could
help us get him to a doctor?"
The fisherman glanced inquiringly at his wife.
"Go ahead, John," she said. "You wouldn't let the poor man die, would
you?"
"I wondered if you'd mind bein' left alone."
"Go on. I'm not a baby. Drive the poor fellow out to a doctor. It's
easy to be seen he needs attention."
The fisherman quickly brought out his car and they carefully put
Captain Royal in the back seat. The boys brought out their motorcycles
and, with Biff riding in company of the fisherman, the little party set
out for the main road.
"I don't know whether we can find a doctor at the village or not," said
the fisherman. "If we can't, there's nothing for it but to drive on
into Bayport."
"We'll fix the expenses," Frank assured him.
"That's all right. I don't want any money for my trouble. The poor
old chap seems to have got a terrible wallop on the head. How did it
happen?"
"He fell off a cliff."
"Did it have anything to do with the fellow you brought out this
morning?" asked the fisherman shrewdly.
"No. Nothing to do with him."
They reached the main road and drove on toward the village. There they
found that the one and only doctor had been called out on a case and
would not be back until the following morning.
"Bayport it is, then," said Joe.
It was plain that the fisherman did not relish the idea of the long
trip to Bayport. It was equally plain that he felt it his duty to
bring the unconscious man to a doctor. On the other hand, the chums
did not like the idea of using his battered car, not only because of
the trouble it would give the fisherman but because the car would not
go more than thirty or thirty-five miles an hour. The motorcycles were
invariably far ahead.
The difficulty was soon solved, however. A heavy touring car pulled up
in front of the village general store and when the driver stepped out
the Hardy boys gave a cry of delight.
"Mr. Jacobson!" exclaimed Frank.
"Why, hello there, Frank Hardy!" said the man. "What brings you away
out here? Hello, Joe. And who have you with you? Chet and Biff, or I'm
a Dutchman. What's up now?"
The man was a Bayport merchant, a close friend of Fenton Hardy.
Swiftly, the boys explained the situation to him. Jacobson soon
realized the importance of the matter, and readily consented to take
Captain Royal to Bayport with him.
"Absolutely!" he said. "It's no trouble to me. I was going to Bayport,
anyway, and it won't hurt if I put on a little extra speed. How about
you chaps?"
"Joe and Chet and I have our motorcycles," said Frank. "Biff will go
with you, and look after the captain."
"Righto! We'll make it in good time, I fancy."
The Hardy boys and their chums thereupon thanked the fisherman for his
trouble. He seemed relieved that he was not called on to make the long
journey into Bayport.
"Write and let me know how the old gentleman gets along," he requested
before he left the boys. "I hope he recovers all right."
The boys promised that they would do so. Then the Hardy boys and Chet
mounted their motorcycles, Biff got into the automobile with Mr.
Jacobson to look after Captain Royal in the back seat, and they started
off.
Frank and Joe often talked of that wild ride back to the city.
Jacobson's car was big and powerful and he wasted no time on the road.
They realized that the matter was urgent and that it was necessary for
Captain Royal to receive medical attention as soon as possible, so they
paid little attention to the speed laws. The big car roared along the
Shore Road, and the motorcycles clattered on behind.
"We should be there by midnight, at this rate," grunted Joe, as they
sped around a curve.
"We're going back a lot quicker than we left," replied his brother.
At length they came within sight of the twinkling lights of Bayport.
The roar of the big automobile did not diminish. At breakneck speed
they clattered into the city limits.
In the back seat of the car, Biff turned frequently to look at the
unconscious form beside him. To his relief, Captain Royal was still
breathing.
"I think the old chap will pull through all right," he said to himself.
Up a dark, quiet street sped the car, then came to a stop before
a massive stone house with a neat gilt plate beside the door. The
motorcycles roared up and the boys dismounted.
"We'll take him in and let the doctor have a look at him," said Mr.
Jacobson. "If he is in bad shape, the doc will put him in his own
private hospital. He'll get the best of care here."
Carefully, they carried Captain Royal up the steps. Their ring was
answered by a servant, and they took the old man into a waiting room.
The doctor, who had been in bed, soon came downstairs in pyjamas and
dressing gown.
"An accident case, Doctor," explained Frank. "This old man fell off a
cliff into the sea and he's been unconscious for eight or nine hours."
The doctor made a swift examination. His frown deepened as he inspected
the cut on Captain Royal's temple.
"Queer!" he said. "It isn't a very bad cut, and there seems to be no
sign of a fracture. It looks like concussion of the brain, to me, but
he doesn't appear to have had a very hard blow."
"The waves washed him up against the rocks," said Joe.
The doctor shook his head.
"He seems in a bad way. Eight hours, you said?"
"Yes."
"I'll have to give him a more detailed examination. I'll admit him as a
patient to my own hospital if you people will be responsible for him."
"That's all right, Doctor. Do what you can for him and send the bill to
us," said Frank promptly.
The doctor rang a bell. An attendant appeared, wheeling a long, white
table. Captain Royal was placed upon it and wheeled away.
"I'll let you know in the morning," promised the doctor. "Frankly,
I don't mind telling you he's in bad shape. He may never regain
consciousness again."
The boys were sobered by the thought that Captain Royal, for all his
eccentricities, might be dying as a result of his wild dash over the
rocks. Slowly they filed out into the street, bade good-bye to Mr.
Jacobson and thanked him for his assistance, then went home. As Chet
Morton lived out in the country, the Hardy boys invited him to spend
the rest of the night with them. He accepted the invitation gladly, for
the prospect of a long trip out of the city had not appealed to him.
Biff Hooper, who lived near by, went to his own home.
The house was in darkness when they arrived, so the Hardy boys and Chet
quietly parked their motorcycles, slipped up the back stairs and were
soon in bed. They were so tired after their adventures of the day that
in spite of the temptation to discuss matters, sleep soon overcame
them.