THE AIR SHIP SPRINGS A LEAK.
The Hawk had been moored between two trees. The landing had been easily
made, the preceding afternoon, and Matt was confident that the ascent
could be made as easily. And such would have been the case, had nothing
gone wrong.
The cables were untied from the trees and taken aboard, the rudder
tilted to pilot the Hawk skyward, the motor was started, and presently
the power was switched into the propeller.
Then, just as the air ship was given a boost upward, the engine stopped
dead. Without the power of the propeller behind her the car became
unmanageable, and the wind, faint though it was, tossed the big gas bag
against the limbs of one of the trees.
This lasted only a moment, for, as suddenly as it had stopped the
engine had taken hold again, and the propeller began to whirl. Quick as
a wink Matt depressed the steering rudder. The Hawk dipped downward,
cleared the branches, and then was brought up to continue the climb
into the air.
"A tight squeak, mate!" gasped Ferral. "Whatever was the matter with
the engine?"
"Any one of a dozen things may have happened," replied Matt, "but we
seem to be all right now. Come back here, Dick, and do the driving
while I look over the motor."
Matt could see nothing wrong with the motor, and felt sure that, no
matter what had caused the sudden failure of the engine, the trouble
would not happen again.
Having finished his examination of the machinery, Matt turned his
attention to the gas bag. The top of the bag, of course, he could not
see, but there were no indications that anything was wrong. With a
sense of relief, the young motorist returned to his post and sent Dick
ahead to join Carl at the lookout.
There was something to quicken the pulses in the mere thought of
venturing far out over the sea in a "dirigible." The Hawk was mistress
of the air, but, if any accident happened and she was precipitated
into the sea, the steelwork of the car would drag her under and bring
certain death to all aboard.
But Matt and his chums had implicit confidence in the Hawk. They had
sailed her over Lake Michigan, and why could they not sail her across
the Florida Straits?
Carl, leaning over the rail, had a dismal thought as they left the line
of white surf and headed boldly toward the heaving horizon to the east
and south.
"I vonder oof ve vas coming pack any more?" murmured Carl. "Der ocean
iss full oof wrecks, und I hope dot ve von't be wrecked in it mitoudt
any poats to ged avay in."
Dick laughed, turned around and reached out to slap Carl on the
shoulder.
"Belay, there, with your gloomy remarks, mate!" cried Dick. "I'd rather
be in the air with the Hawk than down there in the staunchest ship
that ever left the stays. The barometer says fine weather--and we know
what the Hawk can do even with a wholes'l breeze in her teeth. So long
as the sky is clear there's no need to worry; and if we see a squall
coming up, we'll put about and scud for the mainland. Buck up, old
ship! Think of the iron chest."
"Dot's vat's der madder!" exclaimed Carl, brightening. "Ve're bound
for der islandt to look for dreasure, und dot makes me feel so goot as
I can't dell. I bed you somet'ing for nodding dot ve findt dot chest,
und ve pring him pack to Downsent und he vill take him py New Orleans.
Hoop-a-la!"
Steadily and tirelessly the Hawk made her way across the heaving
waters. There was no way by which the boys could figure her speed,
but, carefully weighing the force of the wind, they guessed it at
twenty-five miles an hour.
"That means," said Ferral, "that in four hours we ought to be close to
Turtle Key."
"Providing we don't get off our course," returned Matt.
"You can't do that, mate, with the compass right in front of you."
"It's only a patch of land we're looking for, Dick, and even if the
course is kept we're liable to find ourselves a few points off, one
side or the other."
"Right-o! Well, let her flicker and we'll see where we are in four
hours from the time we started."
"Ve're oudt oof sighdt oof land," quavered Carl.
"And just that much nearer catching sight of Turtle Key and the iron
chest," laughed Dick.
"Sure!" and Carl echoed the laugh. "It's funny how I forged aboudt dot
chest. I vonder vas it Captain Kitt vat put der chest in der cafe? Vat
you t'ink?"
"I'm not doing any thinking about how the chest got there, mate; just
so we find it, that'll be enough for me. What's this?" and Dick stooped
suddenly and brought up a small roll closely wrapped in canvas.
"That must belong to Townsend," said Matt. "Perhaps there's something
in it that we can use. Open it up, Dick, and see what you find."
Ferral untied the parcel, removed the canvas wrapping and revealed two
revolvers and a box of cartridges.
"Well, strike me lucky!" he exclaimed. "We're a nice outfit of treasure
hunters, I must say, to start after a pirate's treasure without
thinking to bring along a shooting iron! Townsend had a heap more sense
than we had, Matt."
"Townsend," replied Matt, "was thinking of Jurgens when he brought
those guns along."
"We ought to be thinking of Jurgens, too."
"Put them away somewhere," said Matt. "If we need them--which I hope we
won't--we'll know where they are."
Dick dropped the weapons into one of the boxes of supplies.
The heaving blue horizon now surrounded the boys on every hand. The
reflection that there was only a few hundred cubic feet of gas between
them and disaster was not pleasant, and they tried to keep their minds
away from it. It was easy to sidetrack Carl when his thoughts disturbed
him too much, for Dick and Matt had only to speak of the iron chest and
he immediately forgot everything else. Matt had no faith in the chest,
and Dick did not seem to have much, but nevertheless it was a good
thing to conjure with in Carl's case.
"Half-past eight," announced Matt, "and we're two hours out and ought
to be halfway to where we're going."
The next hour dragged a little, but Carl beguiled the time by keeping
a sharp lookout ahead through a pair of binoculars. Matt and Dick had
bought four pairs of binoculars for the use of passengers whom they
carried aloft from Atlantic City, but only one pair had been brought
along on this southern cruise.
By half-past nine Carl had seen nothing of the island, but Matt had
seen something which had caused his blood to run cold and had brought
gray anxiety to his face.
_The gas bag was losing its buoyancy!_
Matt was first sensible of this when he tried to force the Hawk to a
higher altitude. The craft rose sluggishly in answer to the push of
the whirling propeller, and when the ship was brought to an even keel,
again, she showed a tendency to settle.
Casting his eyes upward, Matt saw that the bag had lost its distended
appearance and was getting flabby. Here and there a wrinkle appeared in
the varnished silk.
The bag had been coated with a preparation which was almost proof
against leakage; and yet here was undeniable evidence that gas was
escaping from the bag, slowly but steadily. It was like the life blood
dripping from the veins of all in the car.
"Sweep your glasses over the ocean, Carl!" called Matt. "See if you
can see a ship. There ought to be vessels crossing the straits between
Florida and the islands, and there ought to be coasters moving north
and south."
Dick whirled around. There was something in Matt's voice that startled
him.
"Why do we want to look for a ship?" he demanded.
"Because the gas bag has sprung a leak," answered Matt, speaking as
calmly as he could, "and we've got to find an island or a ship before
very long."
Carl fell back against the rail and almost dropped the binoculars.
"Don't say dot!" he cried. "Himmelblitzen, Matt! Oof der gas goes oudt
oof der palloon vat vill ve do? Durn aroundt und make for der Florida
coast!"
"It's too far. The gas would be all out of the bag before we could get
a quarter of the way back."
Carl looked up at the sagging envelope overhead, and then he stared
down at the heaving waters below. With a shake of the shoulders, he
picked up the glasses and got to his feet.
"It vas no use plubbering aroundt ofer vat can't be heluped," said he,
gamely. "Oof ve haf got to find a ship, den py shinks ve vill findt
vone."
"That's the talk, mate," approved Ferral, albeit in a voice that was a
bit husky.
There was no sail in sight, and no smoke.
"We're south of Great Bahama, Matt," said Ferral, "and this wind will
help us in that direction. Why not change our course? The Great Bahama
is a large island, and we can find it quicker than we can Turtle Key."
"I was about to suggest that," answered Matt, "and was waiting only to
hear whether or not there was a ship anywhere in this vicinity."
Shifting the rudder, he put the Hawk on her new course. The wind not
only hastened the craft onward, but also helped to buoy her up, just as
the current of a stream helps to float a swimmer.
"Where is the leak?" went on Ferral, drawing a hand across his eyes and
trying to realize what the escape of the gas meant for them.
Matt's announcement had chilled and dazed him.
"It's in the very worst place it could be," said Matt, "and that's on
top of the bag. The gas is rushing out and is constantly making the
hole larger. See how those wrinkles are gathering on the under side!"
Dick passed his eyes over the bag.
"What caused the leak? Have you any notion, Matt?"
"It must have been the branches of that tree we struck against when we
started."
"But the bag didn't show any signs of a leak _then_."
"Probably there was no leak, but that the envelope was chafed and
weakened. The pressure of the gas has since made a hole, and the hole
is getting larger every second."
Matt pushed the motor to top speed. For a time there was silence in the
car--silence broken only by the roar of the ocean and by the steady hum
of the motor. A calmness, the calmness of desperation, settled over the
three chums.
"We'll do the best we can, mates," said Dick, "and if we fail it will
be while we're making a good fight to save ourselves. If----"
Just here a frantic yell came from Carl.
"A ship! Py chimineddy, dere's a ship! I knowed as vell as I know
anyt'ing dot Modor Matt's luck vouldn't go pack on him. Crowd on der
power, bard! Pud efery ounce oof enerchy in der bropeller! Ve vill vin
oudt yet--yah, so helup me!"
Snatching the binoculars from Carl's hand, Dick focussed them on the
object that had claimed Carl's attention.