[Illustration: They passed many famous old castles]
MOTOR BOAT BOYS
DOWN THE DANUBE
OR
Four Chums Abroad
BY
LOUIS ARUNDEL
[Illustration]
MADE IN U. S. A.
M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY
CHICAGO NEW YORK
Copyright, 1915
M. A. DONOHUE & CO.
CHICAGO
Made in U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. FOUR CHUMS ABROAD 7
II. THE NEWS OF WAR AT BUDAPEST 18
III. TAKING CHANCES 30
IV. UNDER SUSPICION 43
V. SIGNS OF COMING TROUBLE 56
VI. THE CAMP ON THE RIVER BANK 68
VII. WHEN THE STORM CAME 80
VIII. THE SPORT OF THE ELEMENTS 93
IX. THE HUNGARIAN MOB 105
X. CLEVERLY DONE 118
XI. UNDER FIRE ON THE RIVER 130
XII. NEARING THE SCENE OF WAR 142
XIII. THE BOY FROM SERBIA 155
XIV. FRIENDS IN TIME OF NEED 164
XV. THE BOOMING OF BIG GUNS 175
XVI. UNDER COVER OF NIGHT 182
XVII. AMIDST BURSTING SHELLS 194
XVIII. THE SMASHING OF THE PONTOON BRIDGE 206
XIX. THE AFTERMATH OF BATTLE 218
XX. A RESCUE BY THE WAY 227
XXI. A HALF-WAY STOP 241
XXII. CONSTANTINOPLE AT LAST--CONCLUSION 250
The Motorboat Boys Down the Danube
CHAPTER I
FOUR CHUMS ABROAD
“So this is the famous Budapest, is it, the twin cities of the blue
Danube we’ve been hearing so much about?”
“Huh! doesn’t strike me as so very much of a wonderful place. When you
come to think of it, little old New York and Brooklyn can beat it all
hollow so far as bustle and business go; even Chicago would run it a hot
race.”
“Now that’s just like you, George Rollins, always ready to find fault,
and throw cold water on everything. No wonder they’ve called you
‘Doubting George’ this long time back. There’s always a flaw somewhere,
you believe, and so you look for it right along.”
“Between you and me, Buster, I don’t think he ever will be cured of that
nasty habit. Why can’t he see the bright side of things once in a while,
and be an optimist, like our chum and commodore, Jack Stormways?”
“Oh, you ought to know by this time, Josh, a leopard can’t change its
spots. I reckon our friend George here has spasms of reform once in just
so often; but his weakness is ground in, and his resolves collapse, so
he goes back to his old ways again.”
“You don’t say, Buster? Kindly take pity on my ignorance and tell me
what there is so wonderful about this old Hungarian capital perched on
the banks of the Danube and joined by bridges? I’m willing to have the
scales taken from my eyes.”
“Oh, well, first there’s the river itself, not dirty water like most of
our streams over in the States, but clear, and almost the color of the
blue sky overhead.”
“Sounds fine, Buster. Good for you; go ahead and open his blind eyes
some more. It was always George’s way to have his nose down over the
engine of his Wireless motorboat, and never see a blessed thing around
him. Hit him again for his mother, Buster.”
“Then look at the clear atmosphere; the picturesque buildings hanging
over the river banks; the queer shaped boats running back and forth; the
remarkable costumes of these Magyars; and last, but far from least, that
glorious August sunset painting the little clouds in the west crimson
and green and gold. I tell you it’s a scream of a place, if you’ve got
any eyes in your head.”
“Buster, you’re a wonder at word painting, though I reckon you cribbed
some of that stuff from the guide book. What do you say to it now, old
If and But and Maybe?”
“Why, it looks good enough, I own up, fellows, but chances are all this
is only on the surface. Scratch the veneer off when you go ashore
to-morrow, and prowl around, and you’ll find Budapest just as rotten at
the core as Chicago.”
“Don’t waste any more words on the growler, Buster. There’s such a thing
as casting pearls before swine, you know--not saying that our chum here
is really and truly a _hog_; but all the same he grunts like one. Let’s
talk about our own affairs.”
“Wonder if Jack will fetch a sheaf of letters back from the postoffice?
And say, I’m just a little mite anxious to learn how that spat between
Serbia and Austria is going to turn out.”
“All of us are, Buster, and have been ever since we read how the Grand
Duke who was the latest heir to the Austrian throne after Francis Joseph
was murdered with his wife by some Serbian hothead conspirators.”
“Oh, as far as that goes, Josh, I figure that the game little bantam
will have to take water and back down, after all this strutting around,
just to show that Serbians have pluck.”
“Don’t be too sure of that, fellows,” put in George; “you mustn’t forget
that Russia, yes, and France, too, are back of Serbia. There may be
something more come out of this rattling of sabres in their scabbards
than only a tempest in a teapot.”
“Then it would be Russia and France against the two Teuton States,”
remarked the boy answering to the suggestive name of Buster; “and
knowing how the Kaiser has been getting his country ready for a scrap
this long while, I’d bet on them to turn the trick.”
George, despite his failings, seemed to have read up on the matter and
be pretty well posted on facts.
“But there’s always a big chance it wouldn’t stop there,” he announced,
with an air of importance; “other countries would sooner or later be
drawn into the scramble, because everybody believes there’s going to be
an Armageddon or great world war before the era of peace finally comes
along.”
“Just what do you mean?” demanded Josh.
“There’s Great Britain, for instance; she’s bound to France in some way,
and may have to shy her castor into the ring. Then her ally in the East,
Japan, may choose to knock out Germany’s holding in China, just to
oblige. Besides, Italy must show her hand, and for one I can’t believe
she’ll stand for her old enemy, Austria. And last, but not least,
there’s Turkey, hand in glove with Germany, besides all those scrappy
little Balkan States, from Greece to Bulgaria and Rumania, who will
fight just as they think their interests lie.”
“Whee! but it would be a grand smash-up if all that comes off!”
ejaculated Buster. “I’d sure hate to pay the bills. It’d take me some
time to get enough of the long green together I sure reckon.”
“Seems to me it’s high time for Jack to be showing up,” ventured Josh.
“I hope he hasn’t run up against any trouble, being unable to speak even
ten words of German, while the Magyar tongue is a sealed book to him.”
“I hinted to Jack that perhaps I’d better be the one to go,” said
George, modestly, “because I know German fairly well; but he only
laughed, and said there were lots of ways of communicating with a
Hungarian as long as both parties had their hands to use and could wink
and nod.”
“Oh, well, while we’re waiting for him here on our old powerboat that we
chartered,” said Buster, with a resigned air, “I’m going to take time
to make out a list of groceries we want to lay in while we’re at the
capital. Goodness knows if we’ll have a half-way decent chance to buy
anything worth eating again before we strike the Serbian border, and
then push on through Rumania to the Black Sea.”
George and Josh also sought comfortable seats where they could lounge
and watch in a lazy fashion the bustling scene around them; for there
were dozens of quaint sights to be seen if one only used his eyes.
While the three lads are thus employed, awaiting the coming of their
comrade who had gone to get their mail at the general postoffice, a few
words of explanation concerning them may not come amiss.
These four boys belonged to a motorboat club over in the Middle West,
their home being on the upper Mississippi River. There were two other
members, who had not made the trip abroad, by name Herb Dickson and
Jimmy Brannagan, the latter a ward of Jack Stormways’ father.
Buster, of course, had another name, which was Nicholas Longfellow.
Nature had in a way played a sad joke on the boy, for, while a Longfellow
by family relation, he was also pudgy and fat, always wheezing when
exerting himself, but as jolly as could be, full of good nature, and
willing to go to any trouble to help a friend, yes, or even an enemy.
Josh Purdue had a strain of the Yankee in him, for he was as sharp as a
steel trap, though perfectly honest. As an all-round comrade Josh could
not very well be excelled.
George Rollins was a good-enough chap too, though he complained at
times, and was so inclined to want to be shown that his friends had
dubbed him “Old Missouri” and “Doubting George.”
These six boys had gone through a good many lively times together,
as they possessed three motorboats of different models, called the
Wireless, a cracky craft built for racing, and which gave George, the
skipper, much trouble; the Tramp, which Jack commanded; and the beamy
Comfort, run by Herb Dickson.
It would be utterly impossible for us to undertake to mention a tithe
of their interesting and thrilling escapades while cruising in these
boats. If the reader who has made their acquaintance for the first time
in this volume desires to know more about these happenings, he is
referred to the six earlier books in the Motorboat Boys’ Series, all
of which can be easily procured.
As to just how the interesting quartette of wide-awake American boys
came to be running down the historical Danube River in the late summer
of nineteen-fourteen, that can be easily explained.
Some of their parents were well-to-do, and as school would not begin
this year until some time in October or November, it was at first
suggested in a spirit of fun, and then debated as an actual possibility,
that they coax their folks to let them go abroad for a season.
Needless to say that as the lads had considerable money in the treasury,
thanks to their having been instrumental in capturing some bold bank
robbers who had run away with the funds of an institution, they were
finally able to gain their folks’ consent.
Then came the question of what they would like to do most of all. By
this time they had come to be such cruisers that they could not bear the
thought of following in the footsteps of the general run of European
tourists. Any one could read all about the cities in the magazine
accounts, as well as the many books of foreign travel.
It was Jack who made a startling proposition that caught the fancy of
the other three from the first.
He had lately been reading an account of a canoe trip made by an English
gentleman all the way down the Danube from its source in Germany not far
from the Rhine, through Austria-Hungary, along the Serbian border, and
then through Rumania until he finally reached the Black Sea, and brought
up at Constantinople.
The account was so vividly written up that it appealed strongly to Jack,
and his proposition was that they make their way to some place further
down the beautiful river than his starting point, charter some kind of a
motorboat, and continue the voyage. They could thus get to the Turkish
capital in good time after a most interesting trip, take a steamer to
London, and come home in that way.
Well, the more they talked it over the stronger grew the inclination to
enjoy a water voyage through a most interesting country, the praises of
which they had seen sung in many an account they managed to unearth at
the library.
Eventually this was just what the daring quartette had done. They
were lucky enough to get hold of a pretty fair powerboat that would
accommodate four sleepers with some crowding. This they had fitted up to
suit themselves, for long experience in camping out had made them wise
in many particulars. And, Buster considered this the most important part
of the whole business, they had found a little kerosene blue-flame stove
something like those they owned at home, upon which many of their future
meals were likely to be cooked.
The party had only been a short time on the way when they brought up at
the Hungarian capital, where it was planned to spend a couple of days
prying around; for they had reason to believe they would run across no
large city save Belgrade in Serbia until they crossed the Black Sea and
came to Constantinople.
As often happens, the best laid plans often go astray, and, looking back
to former scenes, the four chums could pick out several other instances
when this had happened to them.
Buster had just finished his long list of eatables, in which he jotted
down everything that appealed to his voracious appetite, when Josh was
heard saying he had glimpsed Jack coming. All of them therefore jumped
up to greet the bearer of the mailbag, being greatly interested in news
from the home folks.
“Something has happened, as sure as you live!” exclaimed Josh as the
fourth member of the little party drew closer; “look at Jack’s face,
will you? He couldn’t be more solemn if he had been told he was going to
be hung to-morrow.”
“No bad news from across the sea, I hope, Jack?” faltered Buster.
Jack Stormways, who was a resolute looking young fellow, a born leader
among boys, shook his head and allowed a faint smile to steal across his
sober countenance.
“I’m glad to say it isn’t that, fellows,” he told them; “but all
Budapest is in a frightful uproar just now, and it’s a question if our
lovely voyage doesn’t come to a sudden end right here.”
“Great Cæsar’s ghost! What’s happened now, Jack?” cried Josh, looking
alarmed.
“Only this, and you can guess what it means in Europe,” Jack announced.
“Germany declared war on Russia last night, and her army is said to be
already marching into neutral Belgium to strike France in the back, and
take Paris!”