Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrated book cover.
See 48402-h.htm or 48402-h.zip:
(https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/48402/pg48402-images.html)
or
(https://www.gutenberg.org/files/48402/48402-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Villanova University Digital Library. See
http://digital.library.villanova.edu/Record/vudl:308331
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=).
Motor Stories
Thrilling Adventure Motor Fiction
No. 12
May 15, 1909
Five Cents
MOTOR MATT'S PERIL
OR CASTAWAY IN THE BAHAMAS
by
STANLEY R. MATTHEWS
[Illustration: The "Hawk" was doomed!
As quickly as he could, Motor Matt
made ready to follow Carl and Dick.]
Street & Smith,
Publishers,
New York.
MOTOR STORIES THRILLING ADVENTURE MOTOR FICTION
_Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered according to
Act of Congress in the year 1909, in the Office of the Librarian of
Congress, Washington, D. C., by_ STREET & SMITH, _79-89 Seventh Avenue,
New York, N. Y._
No. 12. NEW YORK, May 15, 1909. Price Five Cents.
MOTOR MATT'S PERIL
OR,
Cast Away in the Bahamas.
By the author of "MOTOR MATT."
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. CARL AS BUTTINSKY.
CHAPTER II. THE MOVING-PICTURE MAN MAKES A QUEER MOVE.
CHAPTER III. WARM WORK AT THE "INLET."
CHAPTER IV. PRISONERS ON A SUBMARINE.
CHAPTER V. THROUGH THE TORPEDO TUBE.
CHAPTER VI. THE CAPE TOWN MYSTERY.
CHAPTER VII. OFF FOR THE BAHAMAS.
CHAPTER VIII. AN ACCIDENT.
CHAPTER IX. MATT AND HIS CHUMS GO IT ALONE.
CHAPTER X. THE AIR SHIP SPRINGS A LEAK.
CHAPTER XI. WRECKED!
CHAPTER XII. LUCK--OR ILL-LUCK?
CHAPTER XIII. A MOVE AND A COUNTERMOVE.
CHAPTER XIV. MOTOR MATT'S SUCCESS.
CHAPTER XV. A FEW SURPRISES.
CHAPTER XVI. MATT TAKES TOWNSEND'S ADVICE.
NIGHT WATCHES FOR BIG GAME.
SPECIALISTS IN THE WOODS.
MISSOURI WILLOW FARM.
ANIMALS THAT DREAD RAIN.
CHARACTERS THAT APPEAR IN THIS STORY.
=Matt King=, concerning whom there has always been a mystery--a lad
of splendid athletic abilities, and never-failing nerve, who has won
for himself, among the boys of the Western town, the popular name of
"Mile-a-minute Matt."
=Carl Pretzel=, a cheerful and rollicking German lad, who is led by a
fortunate accident to hook up with Motor Matt in double harness.
=Dick Ferral=, a Canadian boy who has served his time in the King's
navy, and bobs up in the States where he falls into plots and
counterplots, and comes near losing his life.
=Archibald Townsend=, otherwise "Captain Nemo, Jr.," of the submarine
boat _Grampus_, who proves himself a firm friend of Motor Matt.
=Lattimer Jurgens=, an unscrupulous person who, for some time, has
been at daggers drawn with Archibald Townsend.
=Whistler=, an able lieutenant of Lat Jurgens.
=Cassidy, Burke and Harris=, comprising the crew of the _Grampus_.
"=The Man from Cape Town=," who does not appear in the story but
whose influence is nevertheless made manifest.
=McMillan and Holcomb=, police officers.
CHAPTER I.
CARL AS BUTTINSKY.
"Py shinks, aber dot's funny! Dose fellers look like dey vas birates,
or some odder scalawags. Vat vas dey doing, anyvays, in a blace like
dis?"
It was on the beach at Atlantic City, New Jersey. Carl Pretzel was
there, in a bathing suit.
Those who know the Dutch boy will remember that he was fat, and there
is always something humorous about a fat person in a bathing suit.
Carl had been in the water. After swimming out as far as the end of the
steel pier, he had returned and climbed up on the beach. An Italian
happened to be passing with a pushcart loaded with "red-hots" and buns.
Carl had a dime pinned in the breast of his abbreviated costume. He
unpinned the dime, bought two "red-hots" and a bun, and fell down in
the sand to rest and enjoy himself. The Italian lingered near him,
staring with bulging eyes to a place on the beach a little way beyond
Carl. The Dutch boy, observing the trend of the Italian's curiosity,
looked in the same direction.
A girl was kneeling on the beach, tossing her arms despairingly. She
was a pretty girl, her clothes were torn and wet, and her long, dark
hair was streaming about her shoulders.
Certainly it was a curious sight, there in that densely populated
summer resort, to see a young woman acting in that manner. Up on the
board walk above the beach a gaping throng had gathered. A little
way from the board walk a man seemed to be doing something with a
photograph instrument.
Carl, intensely wrought up, floundered to his bare feet, a "red-hot"
in one hand and half a bun in the other. Any one in distress always
appealed to Carl--particularly a woman.
From the woman, Carl's eyes drifted toward the water. A boat was
pulling in, and was close to the shore. There were three men in
the boat, two at the oars and one standing in the bow. They were a
fierce-looking lot, those men. All were of swarthy hue, had fierce
black mustaches, gold rings in their ears, heads covered with knotted
handkerchiefs over which were drawn stocking caps, and all wore sashes
through which were thrust long, ancient-looking knives and pistols.
The man in the bow, whom Carl could see almost entirely, had on a pair
of "galligaskins," or short, wide trousers, and immense jack boots.
The ruffians in the boat, no less than the girl on the beach, seemed to
be deaf and dumb. Not a word was said by any of them, but their faces
twitched in response to their varying emotions, and they used their
hands in ceaseless gestures.
Carl was right in thinking that the men in the boat had the appearance
of pirates; and the scene was "funny," inasmuch as it showed the sea
rovers of a past age against a twentieth century background.
"Py shinks," muttered Carl, his temper slowly rising, "I don'd like
dot! Der poor girl iss at der mercy oof dem birate fellers, und der
bolice, und nopody else, seems villing to lendt her a handt. Vell, I
dell you somet'ing, oof dose birate fellers in der poat douch a hair
oof dot girl's headt, den dey vill hear from me! I vish Modor Matt und
Tick vas here. Mit dem to helup, ve could clean out der whole gang.
Anyhow, I do vat I can py meinseluf."
When the boat was in the surf, the two who were rowing dropped their
oars and sprang overboard. Laying hold of the boat, they dragged it up
on the strand. The man in the bow jumped out, and all three made a rush
for the girl.
"Leaf dot laty alone!" bellowed Carl, starting for the girl about the
same time the three men did. "You t'ink dis vas some tesert islants dot
you can act like dot! Bolice! bolice!"
The sight of Carl, in his little red bathing suit, streaking along
the sand, brought roars of laughter from those on the board walk. The
merriment puzzled Carl; and angered him still further, too, to think
that such a raft of people would give way to mirth when a young woman
was in such terrible danger.
"Get away from there!" shouted a man near the photographic instrument.
"Meppy you see me gedding avay," roared Carl as he ran, "aber I don'd
t'ink. You vas a goward, und eferypody else vas a goward! I safe der
girl meinseluf!"
"You'll spoil the picture!" howled one of the pirates; "get out of the
picture!"
"I vill shpoil your face!" retorted Carl, failing to comprehend. "Ged
oudt oof der picture yourseluf! Der laty iss nod to be hurted."
Carl reached the lady first. She seemed astounded and angry.
"Nefer fear, leedle vone," carolled the Dutch boy, planting himself
between the girl and her supposed enemies, "dose vicked mens vill haf
to valk ofer me pefore dey ged ad you! Yah, so helup me! Run for der
poard valk vile I mix it mit dem und gif you der shance."
"Go 'way!" screamed the girl; "mind your own business, if you've got
any!"
"Oh, you Dutch idiot!" raved one of the buccaneers, striking at Carl
with a cutlass. "You've spoiled our work!"
The other two pirates were jumping up and down and saying things about
Carl that were far from complimentary.
The Dutch boy tried to dodge the cutlass, but failed. It struck him
squarely across the throat, and, had it been a thing of steel, would
have separated his head from the rest of his body. But the cutlass was
made of lath, covered with tinfoil, and broke as it fell.
"He's ruined the films!" howled the man at the photograph instrument.
"Sic him, Tige!" cried another, who was standing beside him.
A brindle bulldog, which Carl had not seen until that moment, gave a
yip and started for the scene of the trouble.
"Vat's der madder, anyvays?" demanded Carl, convinced by the young
lady's manner that she did not want to be rescued.
"Moving pictures, you Dutch idiot!" yelped the leader of the pirates.
"If you'd had any sense you'd have known that without being told. Now
we've got to do it all over again! Take him, Tige!"
The bulldog was hurling himself across the sand like a thunderbolt,
and he was making straight for Carl. Neither the girl nor the pirates
showed any inclination to stop the dog; on the contrary, they appeared
to derive considerable satisfaction from the prospect of his getting
close enough to use his teeth on the Dutch boy.
Carl was perfectly willing to face any number of pirates in order to
rescue a beautiful maiden in distress, but he drew the line at coming
company front with a vicious bulldog. When a person wears nothing but a
bathing suit his means of offense and defense are naturally limited.
Since Carl could not help the girl, he made up his mind to do what
he could to help himself. Whirling about, he laid himself out in the
direction of the steel pier, the bulldog in hot pursuit and gaining on
him at every jump.
Everybody, except the moving-picture people, was laughing. And
excepting Carl. There was nothing especially amusing in the situation
for him.
The Italian with the pushcart was haw-hawing and holding his sides.
A boy, using his legs to get away from a dog, was something he could
understand, and it pleased him.
Carl did not have time to go around the cart, so he ducked under it.
The dog ducked after him. Carl had seen how the Italian was enjoying
himself, and he resented it. By rising up under the cart Carl could
overturn it, thus dropping a lot of buns and "red-hots" on the dog
and possibly stopping the pursuit. Carl did not stop to debate the
matter--he hadn't time--but rose up, thus sending the cart over upon
the dog.
The Italian had been cooking the "red-hots" on a steel plate. The
plate, of course, was hot, and it struck the dog. There came a yelp of
pain, and the dog tore out from under the cart and hustled back toward
the photograph instrument.
The Italian had changed his tune. He was not laughing, now, but was
prancing around and howling frantically for the police.
"Sacre diabolo estrito crystal!" he shrieked. "You wreck-a da wag'--you
spoil-a da bun, da red-a-hot! Polees! Me, I like-a keel-a you! Polees!
polees!"
While he yelled, he started angrily toward Carl. The Dutch boy,
whirling the overturned cart around, caused the Italian to stumble over
it. Leaving him to writhe and sputter among the scattered buns and
"wienes," Carl raced on toward the steel pier.
He was flattering himself that he would be able to regain the bathhouse
without further molestation, but in this he was mistaken. An officer
jumped down from the side of the pier, as he came close to it, and
grabbed him by the arm.
"Not so fast, there!" cried the policeman.
"Vat's der madder mit you?" wheezed Carl. "I don'd vas doing anyt'ing."
"Oh, no," was the sarcastic response, "you wasn't doing a thing! What
did you kick over that dago's cart for?"
"Dose fellers hat set a dog on me!" cried Carl. "Ditn't you see der
dog?"
Just then the Italian, two of the pirates and one of the men with the
photographic apparatus, hurried up, all in a crowd.
"Pinch-a heem!" fumed the Italian; "he make-a plenty da troub'!"
"He's the original Buttinsky," scowled the picture man. "He pushed into
that moving picture, spoiled a lot of film and made it necessary for us
to do our work all over."
"He's the prize idiot, all right!" clamored one of the pirates.
"What's the matter, here?" demanded a voice, as a youth pushed into the
crowd and ranged himself at the Dutch boy's side. "What's the matter,
Carl?"
"Modor Matt!" exclaimed Carl, gripping the newcomer's arm. "You haf
arrifed py der nick oof time, like alvays! Now, den," and here Carl
faced the others belligerently, "my bard has come, und you vill haf to
make some oxblanadions. Vat haf you got to say for yourselufs?"