FIRE AT SEA
“Well, Dave, they stole a march on us last night.”
“How is that, Hiram?” questioned the young aviator.
“Landed. Yes, sir, the _Albatross_ made a landing about midnight on the
beach of some island—Bermuda or Bahama, or something like that. Last
point of land this side of Europe, the professor says. Took on a fresh
supply of water. Mr. King visited the town nearby and got some papers,
and sent a message to the aero association.”
Hiram had just come from the cabin, preceding his comrade in waking up
by a few minutes. When the two friends went to the cabin they found
young Brackett waiting to take breakfast with them.
A few days had made a marked change in the new passenger of the
_Albatross_. Everybody was pleasant and encouraging to him. He had
become greatly interested in the workings of the airship. Dave had
suggested to him that, owing to the fact that his father was a foremost
manufacturer in the aeroplane line, he had a splendid opportunity to
begin business life in the same field.
The _Albatross_ had started out on its real voyage in fine shape,
weather conditions being perfect. So far, except for the adventure among
the mountain men of North Carolina, not one adverse incident had marred
the flight.
The three friends chatted and joked buoyantly while dispatching their
appetizing meal. Young Brackett had picked up one of the newspapers
brought to the airship from the island just after midnight. He was
looking it over casually, when he uttered a quick cry as of startled
amazement.
“It’s not true!” he almost shouted, and he brought his fist down upon
the table to emphasize the remark with such force that the dishes
rattled.
“What’s not true, Brackett?” inquired the young aviator, in some
surprise.
“Listen!” called out the lad in considerable excitement, and then he
read from the newspaper:
“Another red, white and blue float was picked up three hundred miles
from land by the steamer _Royale_. It proved to contain a dispatch with
the readings: ‘Aug. 21, altitude one thousand feet, course due east,
making splendid time. Airship _Dictator_: Signed, Roger Davidson, Perry
Dawson, on board.’”
“That sounds like business,” exclaimed Hiram. “The twenty-first. That’s
the day we started. They were forty-eight hours ahead of us.”
“Not true!” again declared young Brackett, sharply.
“You mean?” asked Dave, in wonder.
“Davidson and Dawson are not aboard of the _Dictator_.”
“Oh, pshaw, now how can you say that,” challenged the impetuous Hiram,
“when here is the clear evidence?”
“You seem to know something we don’t know,” remarked Dave, with a close
glance at Brackett. “The public prints announced that Davidson and
Dawson started with the _Dictator_ on the trip across the Atlantic on
the afternoon of the nineteenth.”
“They did,” nodded Brackett. “I saw them. But they came back.”
“What’s that?” cried Hiram.
“Yes, they did.”
“In the _Dictator_?”
“Oh, no, and that’s the queer part of it. They may have lost their
nerve—it looks that way. They may have hired someone else to take the
risk of the trip. Anyhow, they got out of the _Dictator_ after leaving
Senca, and came back there at midnight. I slept that night in the place
where they had built the _Dictator_. I saw them come, I saw them go
away.”
“Brackett, you astonish me,” said Dave, bluntly. “Are you sure of what
you say?”
“Perfectly,” declared the lad, with positiveness. “Davidson and Dawson
came secretly to the old aerodrome. They had a big automobile, and
loaded into it a long box. Both were disguised, and I recognized them
only by their voices. I heard them speak of getting to the steamer. How
to explain these dispatches, apparently dropped from the _Dictator_ into
the ocean, I don’t know. I’ve only told you what I do know.”
“Mr. King must know of this,” said Dave, thoughtfully.
No plausible solution of the tangle was arrived at, however. Amid the
sheer exhilaration and activity of their own superb flight, the crew of
the _Albatross_ soon forgot the incident surrounding the rival airship
with new mystery.
For two days and nights the giant airship made an even, steady run, true
as a needle to a set course. There was a slight mist over the waters the
next evening. So fair and promising was the weather, that Professor
Leblance had deviated from the route he had first laid out. He had made
an aerial short cut. The result was that they were somewhat out of the
regular path of ocean travelers.
It was always a pleasure for the boys to watch out nights for the
steamers far beneath them. That night, Grimshaw, seated at one of the
windows, remarked in his usual laconic way:
“Light ahoy!”
“Where away?” chirped the active Hiram, who was priding himself on
becoming quite nautical.
“Just ahead, somewhat to the southeast.”
“I see it,” said the young aviator.
“So do I,” joined in Hiram. “Why, say,” he added, excitedly a minute or
two later, “that’s no light. It’s a fire.”
As they progressed and the radiance became plainer, all hands decided
that Hiram was right. Nearer and nearer they came to the growing light.
Flames became visible, then the fire fringed the outlines of hull and
rigging.
Dave ran to the pilot room and quickly advised Mr. King of the
circumstance. Professor Leblance was summoned from the engine room.
“Slow down and focus the searchlight on the ship,” he ordered.
This was done. It was a vivid and exciting scene. The great fingers of
radiance went groping all about the craft. No one seemed aboard. No one
seemed struggling in the waves about the ship.
Fast to its stern, however, by a long cable and thus held in position,
was a rude raft. The searchlight showed a man standing upon this and
viewing the blazing ship. At his feet, covered over with a tarpaulin,
there seemed to be another human form.
“We cannot leave those people to their fate,” said the Professor. “Mr.
King, we will drop the floats and stop, while you and the boys take the
emergency yawl and go after whoever may be aboard of that raft.”
The _Albatross_ rested its floats lightly upon the water and skimmed it
slowly at an even height, like the royal bird after which it was named.
The handling of the yawl was of a piece with the operation of all the
perfect utilities of the airship. The three boys took the oars and the
airman acted as pilot.
Just as they got near to the raft they saw the man standing upright upon
it, sever the cable holding it to the burning ship. The heat from the
flames had evidently become too intense for him to bear. Then he posed
in an attitude of suspense and eagerness, a wiry, keen-eyed little man.
He had a long, oval metal box strapped across his shoulder, and was
dripping wet.
“Good for you!” he hailed, as the airman grappled the raft with a
boathook.
“Ship caught fire, did it?” remarked Mr. King.
“No, I set it.”
The yawl crew stared almost unbelievingly at the man as he made this
statement, but he went on calmly:
“I had to. She’s water logged, and bound to sink the first capful of
breeze that hits her.”
“Where are the passengers and crew?” asked the airman.
“Abandoned her early this morning. I was down in the cabin getting
this”—and the speaker tapped the tin box as though it contained
something precious. “They missed me, and were away in the boat before I
knew it.”
“But the fire?”
“I made this raft ready against the ship scuttling. Thought I’d fire the
ship for a signal for help. You see it did some good.”
“Well, get aboard,” ordered the airman.
“What about him?” inquired the shipwrecked man, and he pointed to the
tarpaulin on the raft.
“Someone there?”
“Yes.”
“Who is it?”
“A man I rescued not an hour ago. He lay across a wooden grating,
floating along past the ship. His head is bleeding, and he is
unconscious.”
Mr. King directed Dave and Hiram to assist in lifting the insensible man
to the yawl. The latter was limp and lifeless as some water logged rat.
They placed him in the bottom of the yawl and resumed their oars.
“See here,” spoke the man with the tin box, “the best you can do for me
is a sky sailor, is it?”
“That, or nothing,” replied the airman.
“Where are you bound for?”
“Across the Atlantic, for Europe.”
“I knew it would come some day,” observed the rescued man quite coolly.
“You see, I’m an inventor myself. I’ve got in that tin box patents for a
new kind of color photography that will make me millions. I’m not
altogether poor just now, either, and if you set me and my patents safe
on _terra firma_ almost anywhere, I’ll pay a handsome reckoning.”
Within the hour the rescued men were hoisted safely into the airship and
the yawl replaced in position. The unconscious man had been carried into
one of the staterooms. Professor Leblance had quite a smattering of
medicine. He examined the patient, prepared some remedies from a
medicine chest the craft carried, and came into the cabin to report to
Mr. Dale.
“A very sick man. What water and exposure have not done, a bad cut on
the head has. He is delirious and in a weak and feverish condition. I
would suggest that you in the cabin here take turns in caring for him.”
All hands were agreeable to this. In the excitement and bustle of the
rescue, Dave and the others had not particularly noticed the sufferer.
Dave had scarcely entered the place where the patient lay, however, with
Hiram, when he gave a great start. He stood with his eyes fixed on the
man, as he spoke hurriedly to his comrade.
“Go to Mr. King and tell him to come here at once.”
“What is it, Dashaway?” inquired the airman, appearing a few minutes
later.
“Look, Mr. King,” said the young aviator, pointing to the prostrate man;
“who is he?”
“Impossible!” ejaculated Mr. King, starting back. “Why, it’s Roger
Davidson!”
There was no doubt of the fact. In turn Grimshaw, young Brackett and
even Hiram confirmed the identification.
“Here’s a new mystery for you,” admitted Mr. King, coming into the cabin
an hour later. “The clothes that man wore show little adaptability to
airship work. In one of his pockets I found the main stub of a steamship
ticket. He never fell from any airship. I can account for his
extraordinary appearance upon the scene in one way only.”
“And that?” questioned Mr. Dale.
“Is that he was lost off some ocean steamer. One thing certain—the
_Dictator_ never started across the Atlantic with this man in charge.”
For three days Davidson lay insensible most of the time. Meanwhile the
_Albatross_ coursed its way without accident or delay. All hands were
delighted over the success thus far of their wonderful enterprise. They
passed the three-quarters distance mark with every prospect of reaching
goal in splendid trim.
It was a cool, cloudy and misty night, and both the professor and airman
were on close guard on account of the changed weather conditions. The
boys were reading in the cozy cabin. Grimshaw and Mr. Dale had gone to
bed, and everything seemed proceeding smoothly in engine and pilot
rooms. Finally Hiram looked up from his book.
“We are surely going to make it,” he remarked. “The professor says that
it will be a clean shoot ahead for land first thing in the morning.”
“I can hardly realize that there is every chance of reaching the goal
and winning the prize,” observed the young aviator.
“Say, what was that?” abruptly interjected young Brackett.
There had come a sudden shock. It resembled a wrench, a shiver; as if
some vital part of the giant mechanism had met with disaster.
“Something wrong!” cried Dave, springing to his feet.
At that moment a blood-curdling yell echoed through the airship.