JACK INVESTIGATES A PRINCIPLE.
"Now my idea is to take short pieces of rope and to tie as large a rock
as we can handle to each of them. Then we can hang them over the barrel
until she begins to sink."
"But won't they slip off?" Jack asked.
"Not if we put a nail through the rope."
It was nearly six o'clock the morning after the accident. The boys had
already had breakfast and had gotten two of the barrels out from under
the floating pier.
"How are you going to hitch the barrels to the boat after you get them
down there?" Jack asked.
"A very important question, son. I thought we could find some kind of a
hook which we could fasten to the barrel and then we got them down all
we'd have to do would be to slip one under the top of the bow and the
other the same way at the stern."
"No good," Jack shook his head.
"Why not?"
"Son, I'm surprised at your ignorance. You'd better go dig up Archi. and
ask him about his principle.
"But I don't see why--"
"Of course you don't and that's the reason I'm so surprised."
"Well, when you get ready perhaps you will enlighten me."
"Certainly. But first let me ask you a question."
"Shoot."
"When you stick your finger in the water and pull it out does it leave a
hole?"
"Well that's a question that would admit of considerable argument from a
theoretical point of view but I think we can safely agree that the hole,
if there was a hole, would not remain for an indefinite period of time."
"Whew, that never touched me. Did you mean that it wouldn't leave a
hole?"
"I guess that was the main idea."
"All right then. Now that that is settled perhaps you will tell me how
you intend to bail the water out of the Sprite while she is still under
water. As you have planned it she will still be a foot or more below the
surface after the barrels have brought her up."
"Well, I am dumb for a fact. Honestly, Jack, I hadn't thought of that.
It's a case of being up and down at the same time. Well, that means that
we will either have to fasten them lower down or else tow the whole
shooting match into shore after we get her up. What do you say?"
"Well, of course if we could get the barrels under the boat that would
solve the problem but I don't see how we could do it. No, I guess the
best bet is to tow her in."
"I think so myself. Now suppose you be looking for some stones while I
run down to the boat house and see what I can do about a couple of
hooks."
"And don't forget to bring up the rope."
Bob was back in the course of half an hour having found two hooks which
went with a hoisting tackle and found that Jack had collected a
sufficiently large number of rocks most of them being about all he
wanted to lift.
"Now we'll get them aboard and be off," he said.
Thanks to the buoy they had no trouble in finding the place where the
Sprite lay and after an hour's hard work they had the pleasure of seeing
the barrel disappear beneath the surface, directly over the bow of the
boat.
"Now we'll get the other one," Bob said as he started to row back up the
lake.
"That wasn't so bad," Jack declared. "If only that barrel landed on the
bow."
"It won't be hard to lift it if it didn't," Bob assured him. "You see we
put on just barely enough rocks to sink it so it'll be light in the
water."
By nine o'clock the other barrel was down at the stern.
"Let's hook the one on the bow first," Bob proposed as he stood ready
for the dive.
"Right. Got your knife?"
"Sure thing."
"Then come on."
They struck the water together and swam swiftly for the bottom. To their
great satisfaction they found that the first barrel had settled in
exactly the right place on the bow and they had no trouble in slipping
the hook into a ring. Then, with their knives they cut the ropes which
held the rocks.
"Did you notice whether she lifted any?" Bob asked as he was climbing
into the boat. "I didn't have time to see."
"I did. She came up a foot or two."
"Good. Then she'll come up when we get the other one hooked on."
"I guess so. But we're going to have a harder time with that other one."
"How come?"
"I noticed going down that it was two or three feet behind the stern,
that means that we'll have to lift it on."
"Well, I guess we can do it."
They waited until they were thoroughly rested and then again dove for
the bottom. As Jack had said the second barrel was resting behind the
stern. But, as Bob said, it was not hard to lift in the water and they
had little trouble in getting it onto the stern before having to come up
for air.
"I told you we could do it," Bob panted as he stretched out on the
bottom of the boat.
"There's no ring at the stern to hook into," Jack reminded him.
"That's so."
"Suppose we can hook into the tiller post?"
"Don't see why not?"
But it was harder than they thought as they had considerable trouble in
making the hook reach and they were obliged to come to the surface
without cutting the ropes.
"One more whack at it and she'll come up," Bob declared after he had
regained his breath.
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps nothing. She's got to."
"Well, here's hoping."
"I'll go down and cut the ropes. There's only two of them," Bob said as
soon as he was rested.
"Now watch her come up," he said a moment later as his head bobbed above
the water.
But to their great disappointment nothing appeared. They waited several
minutes, expecting to see the barrels emerge but no barrels came.
"Guess Archi. has fallen down on this job," Jack said after some five
minutes had clasped.
"Looks like it."
"What's next then?"
"Have to get another barrel, I guess."
"I'm going down and have a look first," and Jack disappeared over the
side of the boat.
Bob waited until he was beginning to be anxious before Jack reappeared.
"Rudder's caught between two rocks," he said as soon as he could speak.
"That's what's holding her. She must have gone down kinder sideways and
then righted a bit. Anyhow the rudder is pinched so that I couldn't
budge it."
"Are the rocks big?"
"Too big to move, I'm afraid, but we'll try it together."
But their united strength was not enough to accomplish the task. The
rudder of the Sprite had settled neatly into a crevice between two rocks
and was there held fast and, although they pulled with all their might,
they were unable to budge it.
"We might do it if we had a crowbar," Jack suggested as they lay
panting.
"I believe we could and there's one at the boat house."
"Then we'd better go get it."
They rested a few minutes and then rowed back to the cottage and got the
bar.
Back again Bob tied a strong cord to the bar and fastened the other end
to the row boat.
"Afraid that bar'd be too heavy to bring up," he explained.
Then he jumped in holding the bar in his hands and trusting to its
weight to carry him to the bottom. Jack followed and soon they had the
end in the crevice and were tugging with all their strength.
To their great satisfaction they felt the big rock give a trifle and
after another mighty pull on the bar the rudder slipped out and the boat
began to rise. They had hardly gotten into the row boat when first one
barrel and then the other came above the surface.
"Hurrah for Archi.," Jack shouted.
Bob grinned as he panted for breath.
"Science is a wonderful thing," Jack declared.
"You said it, son."
The deck of the Sprite was some two feet beneath the surface as she
floated supported by the two barrels.
"We'd sure have some job bailing her out as she is," Jack laughed.
"And it's going to be some work to tow her in shore. It's nearly half a
mile and she sure'll pull hard."
He was correct in his estimate of the work still ahead of them and it
took them all of two hours to tow the Sprite to the sandy beach directly
opposite, and about a mile below the cottage.
"I'm hungry," Jack declared as the boat finally scraped on the bottom.
"Ditto."
"Then let's leave her here and go up to the cottage and get dinner."
"My sentiment exactly."
They preferred walking in place of rowing, Bob declaring that his arms
felt as though they were nearly pulled out of their sockets. They made a
hasty meal as they were both anxious to get back to the boat and in a
little over an hour they were at work again. It was not difficult to
pull the boat up on the gently sloping beach until it was far enough out
of water to be bailed out.
This was slow work, but it was finally accomplished and once more the
Sprite floated as proudly as ever on the surface. A careful examination
disclosed that Jack had been right. Except for a little paint rubbed off
the side the hull was uninjured.
"Do you suppose the water has injured the motor?" Jack asked.
"Don't see why it should. But we'll have to overhaul it and get it
thoroughly dried, before we can be sure."
"Well, let's get those barrels aboard and tow her up to the cottage."
It took them the rest of the afternoon to clean and dry the motor but
they were well rewarded for their work when they found that it ran as
smoothly as ever.
"Now a little paint and she'll be as good as new," Bob declared after
they had taken a short run down the lake to make sure that all was
right. "But we'll let that go till to-morrow. Suppose you see if you can
get a mess of perch while I mix a batch of biscuit."
"How'd you guess it?" Jack laughed as he ran up to the cottage for his
rod.
Catching fish was, as Jack often said, the best thing he did, and by the
time Bob had his biscuits in the oven he had six big perch sizzling in
the frying pan.
"These are pretty near as good as trout," he declared a little later as
he reached for his third.
"To say nothing of the biscuits," Bob grinned.
"They're always the best ever. Melt in your mouth," Jack assured him. "I
think this is my sixth."
"Well, we won't starve so long as you can catch fish and I can bake
biscuits."
"I'll say we won't."
"I do hope that nothing will happen to disturb the rest of the
vacation," Bob said as they were washing the dishes.
"Had enough excitement, eh?"
"Enough for one summer."
"It sure was pretty strenuous catching those liquor smugglers."
"You said it. I saw by the paper the other day that they got five years
at hard labor."
"And that's none too much according to my way of thinking."
Just then the telephone rang.
"I'll answer it," Bob said.
"This you, Bob?"
It was his father's voice which came over the wire.
"Yes."
"Well a telegram has just come for you from Rex Dale. It says, 'Meet me
Skowhegan, 10.30 to-morrow.'"
"That's funny. I thought he was going to sail for Europe in a few days.
That's what he said in his last letter."
"I know, but something must have changed his plans. Everything all right
up there?"
"It is now but we had a bit of a mess yesterday." And he told his father
about the accident.
"Good boy," Mr. Golden almost shouted as Bob told him how Jack had saved
his life. "I often wonder what will happen to you boys next."
"It's all right so long as we land on our feet," Bob laughed.
"If only you always do," Mr. Golden sighed. "Really, Bob, I sometimes
think I'd better put you two in a glass case and set a watch over you.
Then I'd know that you were safe."
"Who was it?" Jack asked as his brother joined him down on the wharf
where he had gone to replace the barrels.
"It was Father. A telegram just came from Rex saying to meet him
to-morrow at 10.30."
"Wonder what's up. I thought he was going abroad."
"So did I but it seems that we were wrong."
"Well, I'll be mighty glad to see him again."
"You bet."
Rex Dale, the son of a prominent business man of Philadelphia, was a few
years older than Bob. The boys had met him while at The Fortress, a
military college which they both attended, under circumstances already
related in a previous volume, and a strong friendship existed between
them.
"Must be something mighty important," Jack declared as they returned to
the cottage, "to make him give up that trip."
"Mebby he's only postponed it."
"Mebby, but I reckon we won't know till to-morrow."