TO THE RESCUE
Silence greeted the reading of the message--silence at first, and then,
as the import of the appeal came home to the crowd, there were murmurs
of surprise and despair.
“Blown out to sea!” exclaimed Jerry. “How could they be over the ocean
so soon after leaving here? They must have travelled at a terrific
rate.”
“You forget,” said Bob, “that we’re within a few miles of New York, and
not far from the sea. It’s only a short distance to the ocean.”
“That’s right,” agreed Ned. “And if they’re in a hurricane of the upper
air they may be swept along for several days.”
“But we must help them!” exclaimed Professor Snodgrass, who had
temporarily abandoned his pursuit after specimens and had joined his
friends in the crowd. “They have appealed to us all for aid.”
“That’s right!” cried several. “We must go to the rescue. We must send
out a relief expedition. Notify the naval authorities, and have a swift
torpedo boat sent out to pick them up in case they fall into the sea.
All ship captains should be notified by wireless.”
“I’ll attend to that part of it,” promised the wireless operator who
was stationed on the aviation grounds.
“But in which direction are they being blown?” asked Jerry. “Which way
should the ships look for them? Did the message say?”
The operator shook his head.
“It just says that they are being blown out to sea,” he replied.
“Quick!” cried Ned. “Get into communication with them again! Call them
on the wireless and ask which way they are being blown.”
“That’s it!” shouted several in the crowd.
The operator made a jump for his instruments, and soon there was
snapping through the air of the wireless waves, directed toward the
runaway and disabled balloon.
There were several minutes of anxious waiting, while the crackling
sounds could plainly be heard, so quiet was it. Suddenly Ned uttered a
cry.
“What’s the matter?” asked Bob.
“Mr. Jackson!” replied the merchant’s son. “Mr. Jackson is on that
disabled balloon. He is being blown out to sea and he may never be
rescued. Then my father’s business will fail! Oh, what luck--what
fearful luck we’ve had since we set out to find him! We can’t seem to
get in touch with him, and every day’s delay makes it worse for poor
dad!”
“By Jove!” exclaimed Jerry, “that’s so! I forgot for the moment that we
need to see Mr. Jackson, and he’s on that balloon, over the ocean. I
guess----”
Jerry was interrupted by the reappearance of the wireless operator.
There was a despondent look on the man’s face.
“Did you hear from them?” cried Bob.
The man shook his head.
“It’s of no use,” he answered. “I called and called, and finally I did
manage to pick them up; I started to ask them their direction, but
their operator broke in on me.”
“What did he say?” demanded Jerry.
“Just one word,” was the answer, “just one word--‘help!’ That’s all.”
Once more came an ominous silence.
“Well, why don’t we send help?” suddenly asked a man in the throng.
“Here we are at a balloon and aviation meet, and one of the aircraft
needs help. There are several balloons on hand, and any number of
aeroplanes. Why don’t some of them start out to sea, and try to find
Mr. Jackson and his crowd?”
“That’s the stuff! Go to the rescue!” was the general cry.
It was a most practical suggestion, but when it came to the matter of
applying it, trouble developed at once. Inquiries were made among the
several balloonists and aviators as to which craft would be the best to
send to aid the unfortunate men, who might, perhaps, even then, be in
danger of death.
“Send the big balloon _North America_,” said the man who had made the
suggestion.
“I can’t go in her,” replied the pilot of the aircraft. “Mine isn’t a
dirigible, and I’m at the mercy of the wind when I get up. An aeroplane
is what you need.”
“There’s the _New Yorker_!” came from several, and they started toward
the shed where a large biplane, capable of carrying four passengers,
was housed.
“No use,” answered the owner of that craft. “I wouldn’t dare go over
the ocean in her.”
“Why not?” asked Ned eagerly. For more reasons than one he wanted to
see Mr. Jackson rescued.
“In the first place, my craft is not reliable enough,” was the reply.
“I might take a tumble into the sea myself. Then, again, I can’t
carry gasolene enough for a long flight, and, even if I did sight the
_Manhattan_ I couldn’t do the people on her any good.”
“Why not?” again demanded the man who had made the suggestion. “Didn’t
the steamer _Trent_ rescue Wellman and his crew from the dirigible
balloon _America_ at sea?”
“They did,” was the reply, “but the _Trent_ could come to a stop. I
can’t come to a stop without falling into the sea. What is needed is a
balloon or aeroplane that can remain stationary in the air.”
As if by common consent the eyes of nearly every person in the crowd
were turned toward the motor boys. Their craft which had been put
through her paces that day, travelling on the water as well as through
the air--which had come to a halt while nearly a mile high and had
floated as easily as a feather--that craft--the _Comet_ seemed to offer
a solution of the problem. The boys felt it themselves, and perhaps
only their modesty had prevented them from offering their services
before.
“Say!” cried the man who seemed to have taken charge of matters, “I
guess it’s up to you boys! Will you go to the rescue?”
He addressed himself to Jerry. The tall lad glanced at his companions.
They nodded their heads in assent. As for Professor Snodgrass there was
an eager look on his face.
“Go! Go!” he whispered to Jerry. “It’s the very chance I need to get my
singing fish.”
Jerry hesitated but a moment longer.
“Very well,” he answered, “we’ll go.”
“Good!” cried the man who had taken the initiative. Later the boys
learned that he was Mr. Durkin, manager of the meet. “That’s the way to
talk, boys! Here we have a whole lot of aircraft, and only one really
fit for practical work. Now, then, how about gasolene? Have you enough
for a big trip? There’s no telling how long you may be gone. Those
upper-air hurricanes sometimes last for a week.”
“We’ll need to refill our gasolene tanks,” said Jerry.
“Then we’ll attend to that part for you,” said Mr. Durkin. “There are
hundreds of gallons of the stuff here on the grounds. You look over
your motor and machinery. It won’t do to have it break down. How about
provisions?”
“Enough for a month!” cried Bob, and when his chums laughed the crowd
wondered why. But for once Bob had the advantage, and he knew it. Only
for the stocking of the craft with a big supply of food would it be
possible to go on a long trip. And had it not already been aboard there
would have been a long delay.
“Well, fellows, if we’re going, we’d better see to the _Comet_,”
proposed Jerry. “Come on, hustle! Professor Snodgrass----”
“Right here!” cried the little scientist eagerly. “I’ll do anything you
say. Oh, to think that at last we are to go to sea where I may get my
singing fish! What shall I do?”
He was anxious to help, and for the time being forgot all about
gathering ordinary specimens. Jerry mentioned several tasks which the
little man could well attend to.
Soon there were busy scenes about the _Comet_. Gasolene was being
poured into her reserve tanks. Bob took a last look at the provisions,
and added several boxes and packages of food that kind friends offered.
At Mr. Durkin’s suggestion some medicines were taken along, also some
planks and ropes to be used in the possible rescue.
Jerry and Ned went over the machinery, and found that it was all right.
Not a bolt was strained, not a nut loosened. The _Comet_ was fit to
make a flight half way across the Atlantic if need be.
“Well, I guess we’re about ready to start,” announced Jerry, after
a last look over the machinery. There were many offers of help from
persons in the crowd, but there was little they could do. Many also
begged to be taken on the rescue trip, but these, of course, had to be
refused.
“The sooner we get started the better,” spoke Ned, as he started on a
run across the aviation grounds.
“Where you going?” called Jerry.
“To send a message to dad. I want to tell him where we are going, and
the reason why I haven’t been able to get in touch with Mr. Jackson.”
“That’s a good idea. Send word to my folks, and to Bob’s also.”
“Sure!” called back Ned.
Soon a message was being flashed to his father, and to the other folks
in Cresville. While waiting for a reply from his parent, Ned suggested
to the operator that he try once again to get into communication with
the _Manhattan_.
Through space the wireless messages clicked, but silence was the only
answer.
“It’s of no use,” said the operator gloomily. “They may all be dead
now.”
Ned, too, felt the seriousness of the situation, but he was not going
to give up so soon. Once more the instruments clicked.
“It’s a message for you,” spoke the operator. Ned read the dots and
dashes, for he and his chums could both send and receive wireless and
ordinary telegraphic messages.
“Go ahead,” wired Mr. Slade to his son. “We all send our best wishes to
you boys. Do your best to see Mr. Jackson, Ned. Vitally necessary to
rescue him, for our own sakes. My business is in very poor shape. I am
ruined unless Mr. Jackson lends me his aid and influence. Get to him if
at all possible!”
“And I will, too!” declared the merchant’s son with a grim tightening
of his lips.
He hurried back to where the _Comet_ waited but the movement of a lever
to launch her into space and off to the rescue. Briefly Ned told his
chums of the message.
“Are you all ready?” asked Mr. Durkin.
“All ready,” replied Jerry. “Get aboard, Professor, we are going to
start.”
Everything had been done that human foresight could think of to make
the rescue a success. Jerry took his position in the steering tower.
Slowly he pulled the starting lever toward him. In another instant the
_Comet_ would dart forward. But, before the tall lad could pull the
handle, a man pushed his way through the crowd, laid his hand on the
rail of the aircraft and exclaimed:
“I forbid this balloon to leave the grounds!”
“Why?” demanded Jerry, leaning out of the window of the pilot house.
“Because I’ve got an attachment against it for a thousand dollars, and
it can’t go until that amount is paid to Mr. Silas Muggins for damage
you did to his barn. You and your machine are in the grip of the law!”