CONCLUSION
Never slow to act, Captain Tom darted aft, intent on leaping overboard
also.
Ted Dyer, however, chanced to be standing close to the stern. Ted saw
Rollings when the latter first leaped to the rail.
As quickly as it flashed upon Dyer what was happening, the San
Francisco boy scrambled to the rail. Almost at the instant that Rollings
jumped Ted's own feet left the rail. The two struck the water within
thirty feet of each other.
Nothing but the slow speed of the steam yacht, perhaps, saved both from
being dragged under by the force of suction. In a moment or two the pair
were left astern.
Feeling the shock of the cold water, Rollings's first instinctive act
was to try to keep himself afloat. Curiously, he would not, at first,
let go of the iron box, which, with its contents, weighed many pounds.
Now, over the top of a rolling wave Ted Dyer's head appeared. All this
had taken place in a few seconds.
"You want to catch me--you want the money!" sputtered Rollings,
expelling a spray of water from his mouth. "You shall do neither!"
Clutching tightly at the box as an aid to his own drowning, Frank
Rollings let himself go beneath the surface.
Promptly Ted went down after him, swimming straight and lustily.
Another figure sprang forward and downward, shark-like, through the
water. This was Tom Halstead, who, with his stoutest strokes, had just
reached the scene.
Between them Tom and Ted succeeded in seizing the box. By a common
impulse, for they could not talk, they forced it from Rollings, rising
to the surface.
"Blub-bub-bub--whew!"
Rollings, rising to the surface, made that noise as he fought for
breath. The cashier, an excellent swimmer, saw the two boys, a dozen
feet away, swimming and holding up the box.
"Neither me nor the money shall you have!" he roared, striking out at a
strong overhand swimming gait. He was almost upon them like a flash.
But there was another there, too. Joe Dawson had also leaped over from
the rail of the motor yacht. Joe got along just in time to swim between
Rollings and the two boys who were doing their best to keep up and hold
the iron box, too.
"Back for yours! Go away back and float!" cried Joe, pushing one of his
fighting hands against the cashier's face.
"I'll take _you_ down, then, or the box!" screamed Rollings.
"Oh, all right, then. Take me," mocked Joe. "I'm used to it."
Furiously the pair fought in that rolling sea. Joe devoted every
energy, first of all, to keeping the cashier from winding his arms
around him.
Presently Rollings gave up that effort, trying to dodge around Joe and
get at the other pair, who, swimming slowly, were at the same time
managing to keep that precious iron box afloat. This latter task, easy
at first, soon became difficult. As the minutes passed the box became
more and more of a burden, until it threatened to drag both swimmers
under. Yet they hung to it manfully.
Up on the bridge of the "Victor" Jed Prentiss had his own hard task to
perform.
Almost at the outset the swimmers had vanished in the fog astern. Jed
Prentiss instantly gave orders for the steam yacht to stop and reverse
the screw. At the same time he ordered the "Victor" to go around
hard-a-port. Even this circle had to be one of large diameter.
"No hails down there on the deck!" rang Jed's voice, sternly. "No
confusion of calls. Let me do all the hailing."
Megaphone in hand, young Prentiss stood at the port bridge rail.
"Ahoy!" he roared, through the megaphone.
Again and again he repeated the call. At last he thought he heard an
answer out of the deeps.
"Louder!" he roared. "Give us your position."
Suddenly, some sixty feet off the rail, Jed just made out the heads of
Joe Dawson and Frank Boilings.
The cashier was floating, now, making no resistance, for Joe had struck
him a blow across the head with his clenched fist. Rollings, stunned,
floated unresistingly, supported by Dawson.
"We'll have a boat to you in a jiffy!" shouted Jed, while Bickson threw
a life preserver with almost perfect aim.
Now, the "Victor," whose speed had been slowing down, was stopped.
Joe and his charge had drifted just out of sight, but a boat was quickly
lowered, under command of Bickson, and reached the pair, after hailing.
"Where's the captain?" demanded the quartermaster, as Joe and Rollings
were hauled in.
"Hail 'em. They're close at hand," Joe replied.
The first hail brought an answer. In a few moments more the iron box was
carefully brought over the side into the small boat. Finally Tom and Ted
nimbly joined the others.
"Get back to the yacht as quickly as you can. Rollings may come to, and,
fighting in a small boat like this, he could make it unsafe--for the
money," Captain Tom Halstead added, with a wan grin.
Little time passed before strong hands bore the iron box up over the
side of the "Victor." Then Frank Rollings, just beginning hazily to come
to, was carried up. This time he was handcuffed, to remain so until San
Francisco should be reached.
It was an anxious conference that gathered in the main cabin as
Assistant District Attorney Jephson proceeded to force the iron box that
had come within a hair's breadth of going to the bottom of the ocean.
The three boys who had gone overboard after it stood by in their
dripping garments.
As the lid of the sheet-iron box went up, a subdued cheer arose. This
increased in volume to a din as Mr. Jephson swiftly tore the paper
wrappings from one of the packages that he had lifted out. The first
tightly-packed bale of crisp, new thousand-dollar bills was in view.
"All of the stolen money--the whole three million dollars--appears to be
here," announced Mr. Jephson, presently, as he began placing the bales
back in the iron box, which, now that it was open, proved not to be as
thick or solid as it looked when closed.
"Then I'm off to where I can get dry and warm," muttered Tom Halstead.
"Come along, fellows."
It was all over but making the anchorage at San Francisco. There was a
somewhat long, though uneventful cruise, through fog that lasted to the
end. With the "Panther's" crew divided up between two boats, the work
was hard, indeed. It was a welcome hour to all when anchorage was
finally made not far from the foot of Market Street, San Francisco.
Frank Rollings was afterwards tried, convicted, and sentenced to twenty
years' confinement, which he is now serving.
Captain Blake was convicted of firing upon the "Panther," of running
without lights or signals, and of attempting to resist United States
officers. He was sent to prison for twelve years. Blake confessed that
the idea in turning back on the course was to elude the "Panther," and
then seek a lonely point on the coast of Mexico for landing.
Nor did Cragthorpe escape, his sentence being ten years for the part he
had played. Yet, before he was sent away, this wretch gave the evidence
which cleared Robert Gentry of the crime of which the latter stood
accused. Young Gentry was released, exonerated, and Rose Gentry, whom
Tom Halstead had briefly befriended on the Overland Mail at Oakland,
wedded her own heart's choice, the broad-shouldered young man who had
met her at the San Francisco ferry mole.
Cragthorpe, as it was afterwards learned, had been serving Rollings for
some time, and Cragthorpe it was who, having made the acquaintance of
Gaston Giddings, lured the latter into the opium dens of Chinatown. Had
Cragthorpe succeeded in wedding Rose Gentry--and her fortune--he might
have discarded Rollings. As it was, he participated deeply in Rollings's
crimes, and had absconded from San Francisco with him on board the
"Victor" as a fighting man and trusted agent.
Gaston Giddings has been broken of the fearful curse of the opium habit,
but he is no longer president of the Sheepmen's Bank. He is naturally
too weak-willed for prominent service in the financial world.
Ted Dyer, you may be sure, became a member of the Motor Boat Club, going
into its engineer squad. Ted's worthless, heartless uncle was arrested
on his return to San Francisco, and a new guardian, who was appointed
for Ted, secured the young man's full inheritance back out of the
property of the uncle.
All of our young Motor Boat Club friends remained aboard the "Panther"
for the balance of the winter and well into the spring. They had many
enjoyable cruises, though none as exciting as the one just closed.
The reward that the directors of the Sheepmen's Bank voted to all hands
for the recovery of the three million dollars, made the bank accounts of
these sturdy, brave young navigators swell considerably. Not, however,
that any of Captain Tom Halstead's comrades needed money, for they have
that which is worth far more--the power that strong hands, brave hearts
and fearless, truthful eyes bring to any human being when rightly
employed.
It is possible, even very likely, that we may yet again meet up with
these splendid young fellows, who stand for the new type in American
power of the seas in the twentieth century.
In the meantime, let us hail Tom Halstead, Joe Dawson, and all the other
resourceful, capable and brave lads with their own famous club yell:
"_M. B. C. K.! M. B. C. K.! Motor Boat Club._ WOW!"
[THE END.]