CHAPTER XII
THE DRIFTING BOAT
“Queer yarn that sailor told; wasn’t it,” remarked Ned, when the _Comet_had soared aloft, leaving the wreck of the _Hassen_ below on theheaving billows.
“It was that,” agreed Jerry, “but it’s mighty lucky we found the ship,and met him. Otherwise we wouldn’t have known where to look for thesmall boat.”
“As it is it’s going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack,”commented Bob. “I don’t believe we’ll ever find them. Or, if we do, itwill be--too late!”
“Quit giving us such a correct imitation of gloom and despair,”exclaimed Jerry. “Go cook something, Chunky, and you’ll feel better.”
“I guess I will,” agreed the stout lad, with a smile. “I’m hungry.”
“So am I,” admitted Ned. “We all are. Get up a good meal, Chunky. Itwill do us all good!”
It was getting late in the afternoon, for they had spent more timeaboard the wreck than they realized. Now they were on the go once more,seeking the small boat containing Mr. Sheldon and his daughter.
Off to the eastward sailed the _Comet_ in the direction indicated bythe lone sailor. Jerry kept his craft far enough down so that therewould be no chance of missing the boat. But from her position in theair, those aboard the _Comet_ could easily see even a small objecton the surface of the sea, and thus, in this search, the boys wouldhave an advantage over a water craft, for the range of vision of thoseaboard such a vessel is comparatively limited.
Jerry sent the motorship about in ever-increasing circles, and the eyesof one or another of the boys were constantly directed downward. Theywould take no chances of missing the small boat.
“Grub’s ready!” called Bob. “Shall I bring yours to the pilot house,Jerry?”
“No, I guess we all might as well sit down at the table and eat incomfort.”
“But we may miss the boat,” objected the stout lad.
“I’ll start the gas machine, and we’ll stay as nearly as we can in oneplace until after we’ve eaten,” said Jerry. “If the boat drifts withinrange we can easily see it through the glass floor. I’ll work thepropellers just enough against the wind to hold us almost stationary.Get busy on the gas generator, Ned.”
Soon a hissing in the motor room told them that the powerful vapor wasbeing made. It would soon fill the lifting-bags, and the _Comet_ couldthen navigate as a dirigible balloon.
Until such time, however, Jerry kept her going as an aeroplane,watching below for any small boat.
“It will soon be dark,” Ned remarked.
“Then we’ll start the searchlight,” answered Jerry. “How about the gas?”
“I guess we’ve got pressure enough.”
“Then fill the containers. I’m anxious to get at some of Chunky’s grub.”
In a short time the airship floated almost motionless above the sea,the propellers moving just enough to overcome the slight wind. Then,needing no attention on the part of the boys, the _Comet_ could lookafter herself while our friends ate.
“Say, this is all to the horse radish!” cried Ned, as he tastedsomething which Bob put on his plate. “What is it?”
“Fried chicken,” answered the stout youth. “Glad you like it. It’s onlycanned, of course, but I seasoned it up, and----”
“It’s dandy!” interrupted Jerry. “Got plenty of it, Chunky, my boy?”
“You needn’t ever ask Bob that,” mumbled Ned, with his mouth full.“You can always trust him to cook enough. He’s thinking of himself.”
“Thanks,” returned the amateur cook.
With occasional glances through the glass floor of the dining cabin,the boys finished their meal. They felt much better after it, and,strangely enough, more hopeful.
It is wonderful how a satisfied appetite can make a person feel lessgloomy. While before dinner something may seem impossible of execution,after a good meal difficulties vanish as if by magic.
It was so with the motor boys. Of course there was a certain element ofluck, or chance, in their quest, as there is in anything in this world,but after Bob’s fine spread they felt that luck was going to be evenmore with them in the future than it had been in the past.
“Are you going to navigate to-night, or just drift about, Jerry?” askedNed, as the tall lad went to the pilot house.
“I think we’ll drift. If we sail we might lose too much ground and haveto come back over it in the morning. If what the old sailor thoughtwas true--that Mr. Sheldon has no oars in his boat--he can’t make anyprogress himself. He’ll just have to drift about, at the mercy of thewind and ocean currents.
“Now the wind that blows him will also blow us, so we will be ableto go in the same direction. Of course we can’t count on the oceancurrents, but we’ll just have to take a chance on them. So I thinkwe’ll keep ourselves up as a dirigible balloon, and only use thepropellers if we find the wind is getting too strong for us.”
Jerry’s chums agreed with this line of reasoning. There was no need toappeal to Professor Snodgrass. He was interested only in his collectionof bugs, and unless there was actual need of his services he seldomtook any share in navigating the _Comet_. Just then he was busy tryingto capture a little hopping insect he had seen on the deck.
“Look out!” suddenly cried Ned, as he saw the little scientist make agrab for the bug in question. This was on the after deck, around whichwas only a light railing, with spaces here and there to minimize theair pressure. The spaces were large enough for a man to slip through,and the professor was in imminent danger of doing this as he made adart for the specimen.
Ned, alive to the risk Mr. Snodgrass was taking, slid toward him,and grabbed him by the feet. It was only just in time, too, for theprofessor might easily have gone overboard, falling a thousand feetinto the sea below.
“Ah, I have him! The beauty!” cried the little bald-headed man, as hepeered between his fingers at something held in his hand. “I have theprize!”
“And I have you!” panted Ned. “Do you realize that you nearly wentoverboard?”
“No! Did I really?” asked Mr. Snodgrass. “It was very good of you tocatch me. I just couldn’t let that prize get away. It is a very rarespecimen of a pink flea.”
“Gracious!” cried Jerry, who had run out of the pilot house on hearingNed’s cry. “I hope there aren’t any more aboard!”
“I wish I could get half a dozen,” said the professor, as he rose fromthe deck. “I could sell them to various museums for a good sum.”
“Well, if you take many more chances like that,” said Ned with a laugh,“you’ll never get any more specimens--not even the hermit crabs you’reafter.”
“Oh, I’ll be careful,” promised the scientist. “I do hope I can getthose crabs. Do you think you boys will be able to manage a submarinewhen this trip is over?”
“We’ll see,” said Jerry, non-committally.
They cruised about a little longer, and then, as darkness came on,the big search-light was set aglow, making a white illumination onthe surface of the sea. Jerry let the airship sink lower now, for herealized that to pick up a small boat during the night would be no easytask. They divided the night into watches, as one boy could easily doall that was required to the motors and engines, and, at the same time,keep watch out below.
The night passed without incident, save that the wind sprang up aboutthree o’clock, making it necessary to work the propellers at a higherrate of speed to overcome the air currents. Then morning dawned, butthere was no sight, on the heaving sea, of the small boat they sought.The wreck of the _Hassen_ had also disappeared below the horizon.
“And as for that submarine,” said Bob, “I guess that has gone back toGermany.”
“You see how groundless your fears were about her attacking the vesselyour uncle was on,” spoke Ned. “You’re almost as bad as Andy Rush,Chunky.”
“Not quite,” said Jerry, with a laugh, defending his stout chum.
After breakfast they again started circling about,
trying to locate thesmall boat. Every minute was precious now, for they all realized thatMr. Sheldon and his daughter might be suffering greatly from lack offood and water. They had been in the open boat for some time.
Noon came, and still no success.
“It doesn’t look very hopeful,” said Bob, with a sigh he could not hide.
“Oh, we’re not going to give up yet,” declared Jerry with a confidencehe did not altogether feel. “We’ve got plenty of time yet to find them.”
The afternoon was wearing away. It looked as though the motor boyswould have to spend another night floating above the sea.
Jerry, who was alone in the pilot house, called to Ned:
“I say, old fellow, come here a minute. I see something, but I’ve beenstaring at it so long that my eyes are swimming. Take a look and seewhat you make of it.”
Ned, with repressed excitement, looked to where his chum pointed. Thenhe took an observation through a powerful glass.
“It’s a small boat, all right,” he spoke finally, in a low voice, “andit’s drifting about. But whether it’s the one we are looking for isanother question.”
“We’ll soon see,” returned Jerry, almost in a whisper. Then he speededup the motor and headed the _Comet_ for that small speck on the greatocean.
The Motor Boys Under the Sea; or, From Airship to Submarine Page 12
