BAD NEWS
“What’s the matter, Bob?” yelled Jerry, when his stout chum was near
enough to hear above the roar of the wind. “You look worried!”
“I am!” was the answer. “She’s adrift! Come on down and make her fast
or she’ll pound to pieces on the rocks!”
“Are you talking about that ship your uncle is supposed to be coming
over on?” asked Ned in surprise.
“No! I never thought of them until just now!” panted Bob, coming to a
pause. “They _are_ out in this storm, though; aren’t they? I wonder if
they’re safe?”
“Then you didn’t mean them?” asked Jerry, who had, by this time,
managed to slip the leader pipe into place.
“No, I was speaking about our motor boat!” cried Bob. “Sud Snuffles
just yelled at me, as he rushed past our house, that she had chafed
through the mooring ropes and was going down stream. Isn’t this an
awful storm, though?”
“I should say so!” cried Jerry. “But we’ve got to get busy! Come on,
fellows. We don’t want our boat smashed!”
Calling to his mother to let her know where he was going, Jerry led
the way, Bob and Ned following through the storm. They had recently
purchased a new racing motor boat, in addition to the larger one they
used for cruising and general work, and as Bob splashed through the mud
and water beside Jerry he informed his tall chum that it was this boat,
according to the hasty description of Sud Snuffles (a curious town
character), that had gone adrift in the storm.
“That’s too bad!” cried Jerry. “She’s not built for much rough work,
and it won’t take much to damage her. I hope she hasn’t gone too far
down stream.”
As the motor boys turned out of Jerry’s yard into the street, the three
chums almost collided with a small chap, enveloped in a big raincoat,
who was coming from the opposite direction.
“Look out!” cried Jerry, catching hold of the small lad so as not to
knock him over. Then the newcomer, after a glance into the faces of the
three, cried out, gaspingly, and in veritable spasms of words:
“Awful--terrible! Worst storm I ever see! A thousand chimneys blown
down! Two houses with no roofs! Whoop! Almost blew me--up a tree! Won’t
be any water left in the river! Hear that wind! Great guns! One man
caught in barn--it blew down on him--all the ships at sea are sunk!
Look out! Hear that rain! Whoop!”
The small lad had to pause for breath, after this outburst, which gave
Jerry a chance to say:
“Now then, Andy Rush! Hold on a minute. We’ve got something else to do
beside listening to you--at least just now. Our racing boat’s adrift
and we’ve got to go after her!”
“Is that so?” cried Andy, who was surely the most easily excited chap
in Cresville, or for miles around. “Is that so? Too bad--I’ll go
along--I can tie knots well--boat adrift--hundred people drowned--may
upset--catch on fire--bang into the dock--knock the dock down--go up on
land--blow out a spark plug--what a storm--awful ain’t it! Whoop!”
“Hold him, somebody, and stuff a handkerchief in his mouth,” advised
Ned. “Come on, fellows, every second counts!”
“I’ll be good--won’t talk any more--please let me help you!” begged
Andy in slower tones. Indeed he had to talk more slowly for his breath
was about expended.
“All right, come along,” said Jerry good-naturedly. He and his chums
liked Andy Rush, but he sometimes got on their nerves with his rapid,
disjointed talking. Occasionally they took him on trips with them.
The four boys hurried on toward the river through the storm, which
seemed to be getting worse instead of diminishing. The rain came down
in torrents, and, in spite of their waterproof coats the boys were soon
drenched.
“Let’s take to the middle of the street,” suggested Ned, when a broken
shutter, crashing down, narrowly missed Bob.
“Guess that will be a good idea,” commented Jerry. “It will be a little
safer there.”
“Unless a tree falls on us!” put in Andy. “That would be fierce! Smash
down--crack your head--pin you fast--make you----”
“Andy!” cried Jerry warningly, “that will do.”
“Oh, yes. I forgot. I’ll remember. I----”
Ned gently, but firmly, placed his hand over the small lad’s mouth as
they hurried on.
On every side were evidences of the raging storm. The streets were
littered with debris, some thoroughfares being almost blocked. Many
chimneys had been blown down, and one or two small frame houses had
collapsed. The persons in them had barely escaped with their lives, and
several had been injured.
There were pitiful scenes, and the boys made up their minds that they
would come back and lend what aid they could to the unfortunates as
soon as they had caught and made fast their fine boat.
“This certainly is fierce!” gasped Jerry, as they turned down a street
leading to the river and felt the full force of the wind, which, for a
space, had been broken by a row of houses. “I’m afraid we’ll never get
that boat in time.”
“Oh, yes we will,” asserted Ned, confidently. “Don’t you dare say we
won’t, Jerry Hopkins!”
“Well, I don’t want her to smash any more than you do, but just feel
that wind, and think what it is out on the river! Even a low motor
boat, without any sails, would scud along before it at easily twenty
miles an hour. It’s awful!”
“That about describes it,” agreed Bob. “Say, but I’m wet. We’ll all
need hot coffee after this.”
The rain and wind were chilling, and this time Bob’s reference to
something to eat--or, rather something to drink--passed unnoticed.
A little later the boys were at the river, and soon had taken out their
large motor boat, which, fortunately, was all ready to run, and with
plenty of gasoline in the tank.
“Now for a chase!” cried Jerry.
“Yes, and a hard one, too,” added Ned. “I wonder which way the _Scud_
went?”
“She could only go one way--that is, with the wind,” declared the tall
lad, who had taken his place at the wheel. “No boat, even under power,
could make much headway against this gale. Turn her over, boys, and
we’ll see what happens.”
With the four lads aboard the staunch motor boat started out on the
search, going with the wind. So fierce was the gale, and so swiftly did
it send the boat along, that there was hardly need for the propeller,
but Jerry kept it going at top speed, for he wanted to make the best
time he could, and save the _Scud_, which was the name of the racing
boat, before she pounded herself to pieces on the rocks.
The river was deserted by other craft, and the boys realized the risk
they were taking in being out on the water in such a storm. But they
were used to taking chances, and they simply had to try to save their
fine craft.
In a short time they had covered several miles, and they had looked,
unavailingly, all along the way for a sight of the _Scud_.
“I’m afraid she’s sunk,” said Bob.
“Too bad,” murmured Andy Rush.
“Look! What’s that?” suddenly cried Ned, pointing through the mist of
rain to something afloat ahead of them. “That’s some sort of a boat!”
“She’s the _Scud_!” shouted Bob. “And she’s all right, so far. Hurry
up, Jerry!”
[Illustration: “SHE’S THE SCUD!” SHOUTED BOB.]
The tall steersman threw the throttle full over and the motor craft
shot ahead, aided by the wind. A little later they were alongside the
_Scud_, and had made her fast to the other boat. The racing craft was
somewhat scratched from having come in contact with floating debris, or
the rocks in the river, but the damage was comparatively slight.
“It’s good to get her back again!” cried Bob. “Good old _Scud_!”
“And we didn’t get her any too soon!” exclaimed Jerry. “A little more
and she’d have been on those rocks, and she’d have been a wreck when we
got her off,” and he pointed to a menacing ledge of stone just ahead.
Indeed it required skillful navigating for the boys themselves to get
past the danger point, with the strong wind urging them on.
“We’d better not try to work back against this gale,” said Bob. “Can’t
we tie the boats up somewhere along here, and go back in a car or
train? We can get them later.”
“Good idea,” said Jerry. “We’ll do it.”
They obtained permission from a friendly boatman to leave their two
launches tied at his dock, and making sure they were well fastened, the
boys set off on their way to Cresville.
They were fortunate in catching a train, for they had come several
miles from home, but in due time they were again trudging the streets
of their town.
The storm was still at its height, and considerable more damage had
been done to the various buildings. A relief corps had been organized,
and the boys were about to offer their services when Bob, who had gone
over to look at the bulletin in front of the newspaper office, came
back with a serious look on his face.
“What is it?” cried Ned.
“Bad news, fellows. There’s a wireless message there, from Boston. It
says that several large steamers are in distress, and that a number of
small boats have foundered. But that isn’t the worst. The _Hassen_,
with my uncle and cousin on board, has sunk, so the dispatch says,” and
the tears came into poor Bob’s eyes.