[Illustration: Cover art]
[Frontispiece: BUT BEFORE HE COULD UTTER ANOTHER WORD, THERE WAS A
TERRIFIC SHOCK.--Page 59.]
THE
MOTOR RANGERS
ON BLUE WATER
_Or_
THE SECRET OF THE DERELICT
BY
MARVIN WEST
AUTHOR OF "THE MOTOR RANGERS' LOST MINE," "THE MOTOR
RANGERS THROUGH THE SIERRAS," ETC., ETC.
NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1911,
BY
HURST & COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. The Watcher of the Trail
II. Colonel Morello Charters a Schooner
III. Like Thieves in the Night
IV. Run Down
V. Nat in Dire Straits
VI. The Voice in the Dark
VII. A Desperate Plan
VIII. How it Worked Out
IX. Adrift in the Pacific
X. The Tigers of the Sea
XI. Tricked!
XII. A Menace of Old Ocean
XIII. Adrift
XIV. A Mysterious Craft
XV. A Face that Terrified
XVI. What Befell in the Fog
XVII. The "Island Queen's" Secret
XVIII. Lost on the Western Sea
XIX. The Island
XX. The Boys Encounter a Big Surprise
XXI. Attacked by Marquesans
XXII. A Strange Meeting
XXIII. Nat's Skyrocket Artillery
XXIV. The Last of the "Nettie Nelsen"
THE MOTOR RANGERS ON BLUE WATER
CHAPTER I.
THE WATCHER OF THE TRAIL.
A party of horsemen, riding in single file, was making its way down
the steep, rugged trail leading from the interior to Santa Inez.
Although they had not as yet glimpsed the little mission town, which
was their destination, the blue, sparkling glint of the Pacific had,
for some time, been visible through the columnar trunks and dark
foliage of the red woods.
The four persons composing the little cavalcade seemed to be in the
best of spirits as their sure-footed cayuses ambled along. Their
voices rose high amid the hush of the densely wooded slopes.
Squirrels, blue-jays, and other denizens of the Coast Range, fled
incontinently as they heard the high, boyish tones intruding into
their domains.
But they need not have been afraid. Fond as the Motor Rangers, all
three, were of exercising their "twenty-twos" on any "small deer"
that came in sight, their minds, just then, were far too much
occupied to think of hunting.
"See the boat yet, Nat?" inquired Joe Hartley, a stalwart,
sun-bronzed lad of about seventeen. He addressed a boy of about his
own age, who rode slightly in advance of the rest. Like Joe, Nat
Trevor was attired in typical mountaineer's costume, set off by a
jaunty sombrero with a leather band round the crown.
Nat turned in his saddle.
"I could hardly sight her yet, Joe," he rejoined. "But she'll be
there on time. Captain Akers would not disappoint me, I know."
"Y-y-y-y-you've go-go-got acres of f-f-f-faith in him, so to speak,"
came from the third young rider in line, Ding-dong--otherwise
William,--Bell, of course.
Nat shook his quirt at the stuttering lad with mock anger.
"If you don't stop your everlasting punning, Ding-dong,
I'll--I'll----"
"Have ter leave him behind. I reckon that would be the worst
punishment for him," struck in a loosely built, bronzed man, who rode
behind Ding-dong and sat his horse with the easy grace of the
practised rider. His leather "chaps," blue shirt, and red
handkerchief, carelessly knotted about his sun-burned throat, also
proclaimed him a typical westerner of the Sierran region. And so he
was, for most of our readers will by this time have recognized in him
Cal Gifford, the former driver of the Lariat stage, who had so
materially aided our young Motor Rangers in their adventures in the
wild region which now lay behind them. All of these stirring
incidents were related in a previous volume of this series, "The
Motor Rangers Through the Sierras."
By a hair rope, which was "half-hitched" round the horn of his
saddle, Cal led an exceedingly small burro, with sagely flapping
ears. The animal bore a big canvas pack, which, besides containing
the provisions of the party on their dash from the mountains to the
coast, carried also the object of their expedition--namely, the box
of sapphires found in the dead miner's--Elias Gooddale's--cabin.
On the return of the boys to Big Oak Flat from their Sierran
excursion they had found themselves facing the problem of the safe
conveyance of the precious stones to a community of law and order
where they might be placed in the proper hands till Elias Gooddale's
heirs could be found.
But, as will be recalled by the readers of "The Motor Rangers Through
the Sierras," Colonel Morello's band was still at large, and it had
been decided that as the outlaws already knew of the existence of the
sapphires, and the identity of their custodians, that it would be
dangerous to attempt to transport such a valuable freightage through
the lonely mountains by automobile.
The car, therefore, had been left in charge of Herr Muller to take
through to Santa Barbara. The boys, for their part, adopted with all
enthusiasm Nat's plan, which was to tell Captain Akers to bring Nat's
motor boat "Nomad" from Santa Barbara and meet them on the coast at
Santa Inez, an old mission town with a passable harbor. It was
agreed that transportation of the sapphires in this way would offer
few difficulties and no dangers, and as Herr Muller politely but
firmly declined to go a-cruising, the boys were relieved of the task
of finding some one to take their fine touring car through to their
home town.
As for the "Nomad," she was a sixty-foot cruising motor boat of
thirty horse-power. Nat and his chums had seen her keel laid before
they set out for the Sierran trip, and when the question of moving
the sapphires came up, as has been said, Nat at once hit on the idea
of combining business and pleasure by sending word to her builder,
Captain Akers, to bring her up to Santa Inez. Thus they would
experience the delights of a trial trip and at the same time feel
that the sapphires were safe and sound.
Lest it be wondered at that a lad of Nat's age could own such a fine
craft, we must refer our new readers to the first volume of this
series, "The Motor Rangers' Lost Mine." In this book it was told how
Nat and his chums routed some rascals in Lower California, and how
Nat came into his own. Inasmuch as his chums had also, by his
generosity, been made sharers in his good fortune, none of the boys
was short of pocket money. In fact, had they not all three been
steady-going, well-balanced lads it might have been said they had too
much.
But the Motor Rangers, instead of expending their money foolishly,
preferred to lay it out in healthy, exciting expeditions, and that
they had already been recompensed by a goodly share of adventures we
know. Possibly a word further in relation to the sapphires they were
transporting may not be amiss.
The gems, then--which were all in the rough--had been found by Nat
and his chums in what had at first appeared an abandoned hut in the
Sierras. On investigating the place, however, they discovered the
body of the former occupant of the hut, a miner named Elias Gooddale.
He had evidently succumbed to the rigors of the preceding Sierran
winter. Although everything else in the hut had been pretty well
devoured by mountain rats, a tin despatch box had escaped mutilation.
Opening this the lads found papers therein, telling of the hiding
place of some sapphires under the hearthstone. Gooddale, with a
dying effort, had also penned a will, leaving the gems to his unnamed
next of kin. It was recalled by Cal Gifford that Gooddale had come
to the community some years before and had engaged on a quest for
sapphires. He was adjudged crazy by the other miners, but he kept
steadily on his strange hunt. Judging by the boys' find, it appeared
that death must have overtaken him in the very moment of victory.
However that may have been, it so happened that while the party was
examining its strange find a face appeared at the window. It was the
countenance of Ed. Dayton, one of Col. Morello's principal
lieutenants. The boys had had trouble with him in Lower
California--as related in "The Motor Rangers' Lost Mine"--and he had
had no reason to love them. As ill luck would have it, he saw the
sapphires as they were spread out before the finders' wondering eyes.
The sequel was the pursuit of the Motor Rangers by Col. Morello and
his band, whose cupidity had been excited by the rich discovery. The
outlaws surrounded the boys and their friends in a hut in a canyon
and escape seemed to be impossible. But Nat, by a bit of clever
strategy, managed to slip out, and after a wild ride through an
abandoned lumber flume reached Big Oak Flat. A posse was formed and
arrived in time to rescue Cal Gifford and the rest. But Morello and
his band escaped, only one or two minor members of the rascally
organization being wounded in the battle that followed the arrival of
the posse.
Leaving the sapphires in the care of Sheriff Jack Tebbetts, of Big
Oak Flat, the boys and their party continued their motoring trip
through the mountains. At its conclusion they returned to the
primitive settlement only to hear that Morello had been committing
fresh depredations. Sheriff Tebbetts strongly advised against the
gems being carried through the mountains by auto on that account.
Thus it came about that our party came to be riding to the little
coast town of Santa Inez, the trail to which laid through
comparatively settled, orderly country.
But we have deserted our friends altogether too long while we have
taken this lengthy but necessary digression. Let us now return and
accompany them as they round a turn in the trail and find themselves
zigzagging down the mountainside in full view of Santa Inez and the
glorious Pacific.
"What a queer little town!" exclaimed Nat, as the panorama below
suddenly burst upon them.
He gazed in an interested way at the collection of red-tiled roofs
and adobe walls below them. Several modern cottages mingled with the
ancient Spanish architecture without detracting a bit from its
quaintness. Above the other roofs, and some little distance removed
from them, imposed a tower pierced with numerous openings, within
which swung ancient bells. This was the tower of the old mission of
Santa Inez. It had been long abandoned, but still remained a
pathetic monument to a great religious movement.
Situated as it was, at the foot of the mountainside, which was
clothed with pungent bay and madrone trees, and facing a blue bay of
horseshoe shape, a more picturesque little place it would be hard to
imagine.
"But the boat?" exclaimed Joe, as they advanced down the steeply
pitched trail. "I don't see a sign of her."
It was true. The sparkling, deep blue bay was empty of life. That
is, if a fair-sized black schooner, which lay at some little distance
offshore, be excepted.
All the party showed their disappointment. They had confidently
expected to behold the trim outlines of Nat's "Nomad" as soon as they
came in full view of Santa Inez. Blank looks were exchanged. Even
Cal, who had had no experience of the sea and indeed rather
mistrusted it, looked downcast.
"Maybe a whale swallered yer ship, Nat," he ventured.
In spite of his chagrin over the non-arrival of the "Nomad," Nat had
to laugh, for Cal had made the remark just recorded in no joking
sense. The mountaineer, who had hitherto obtained only distant
glimpses of the ocean, fully believed it was inhabited by monsters
capable of devouring whole vessels.
"There are some big whales in the Pacific, all right, Cal," said the
boy, shoving back his sombrero, "but I hardly think that any one has
yet heard of one capable of absorbing a sixty-foot motor boat.
And--hullo--what's that? Hurray!"
His cheer was speedily echoed by the others who had fixed their eyes
on him when he broke off so excitedly in the middle of a sentence.
Coming round the southern point of the horseshoe-shaped bay was a
trim and trig white craft with one slender mast, but no funnel. She
was coming swiftly, too. The white foam at her bow showed how she
was cutting through the water.
"'Nomad,' ahoy!" shouted Nat, standing erect in his stirrups and
waving his sombrero, utterly oblivious of the fact that at that
distance it would have been quite impossible to have seen, much less
heard, him.
The others caught his enthusiasm. Indeed the "Nomad" was a sight to
make the veriest landsman wax enthusiastic. As she cut round the
point and neared the land they could catch the glint of polished
brass and wood work when she rolled to the Pacific swell.
Presently the lone figure on her bridge could be seen to issue an
order to another man, who was on the forward part of the little motor
craft. There was a splash at the "Nomad's" bow, and she came to a
standstill.
"Anchored!" cried Nat.
At the same instant the figure they had descried on the bridge was
seen running aft. In a moment, from the jack-staff astern, appeared
something that made all their hearts beat a bit faster--Old Glory!
The land breeze caught the flag's folds and whipped them out
splendidly.
"Well, boys, there's the gallant little craft that will take us all
safe to Santa Barbara and give us many a jolly cruise beside!" cried
Nat, a note of exultation in his voice.
"Our dream ship!" cried Joe poetically.
"Our ter-ter-ter-treasure ship you mean," sputtered Ding-dong.
"She'll get the sapphires safely through and Morello can hang about
all he wants to, waiting for us to show up in the good old
automobile."
"Yep, I reckon we've fooled the old coyote this trip, smart as he
is," chuckled Cal, leaning over to adjust a stirrup leather.
As he did so, from the brush which grew close up to the trail on
either side, there came a sharp snap--a breaking branch evidently.
In the silence that had followed the former stage driver's remark,
the sudden noise sounded as loud and as startling as a pistol shot.
Cal straightened up instantly. But quick as he was, whoever or
whatever had caused the sudden noise did not further reveal their
presence. The boys searched about for a bit, but their investigation
was only perfunctory, for they were too eager to get on board the
"Nomad" to spend much time at anything else.
"Guess it must have been a deer, or a rabbit, or something," said
Nat, as they remounted and set off once more.
The others agreed, and thought no more of the matter. But Cal
belonged to a school that finds cause for suspicion in any
unexplained noise. It is an instinct descended to such men from the
harassed pioneers of the Pacific Slope.
He frowned to himself as they rode forward, although he said nothing
to the lads of what was passing in his mind. But to himself he
muttered seriously enough:
"That warn't no rabbit, nor it warn't no deer. Critters don't bust
branches; they're too wise. _That was a man._"