The Dreadnought Boys on Aero Service

by John Henry Goldfrap

  CHAPTER XX.

  NED, CAST AWAY.

  But as Herc and Herr Muller crashed floorward together a rush offootsteps came down the companionway stairs. The shot that haddestroyed the sending key of the sloop's wireless had been heard ondeck. Rescue was at hand for the two scoundrels who had been overborneby the Dreadnought Boys.

  Before hands could be laid on Herc, however, the freckle-faced youthhad banged his fists twice into Herr Muller's face. He raised his handfor a third blow when a sharp pain shot through him, and he sank backwith a groan of helpless pain. Something had flashed in the anarchist'shand for an instant and had buried itself in Herc's side.

  "Ned! Ned!" cried the lad in accents of shrill alarm, "the fellow'sstabbed me."

  With a superhuman effort, Ned flung Merritt's arms from him and dashedacross the cabin. Herr Muller had struggled to his feet. He rose justin time to be spun clear across the cabin by the infuriated DreadnoughtBoy. Such was the force in Ned's righteously indignant blow, thatbefore the anarchist leader ceased spinning, he crashed clear through awooden panel.

  "Herc, old fellow!" cried Ned, sinking to his knees beside his comrade,"are you badly hurt?"

  "I--I--I'm all right, old chap. Save the ships!" mumbled Herc and hiseyes closed. The freckled face grew fearfully white.

  Before any of the excited crew could lay a hand on him Ned picked upHerc as if he had been a child, and began backing toward one of thecabin doors with him.

  "You scoundrels will pay dear for this!" he shouted angrily as he wentout.

  Paralyzed for the time being by the lightning-like rapidity of events,not one of the men made a move just then. Ned bore Herc into the cabinunmolested. Chance, leaning on one elbow, was lying in the lower bunk.His head was bandaged, but Ned tumbled him out by the scruff of hisneck.

  "Out of that, you traitor!" he shouted, "and make room for a realman-o'-war's-man."

  While Chance, still weak from the effects of his blow, tottered aboutthe cabin, Ned laid Herc on the bunk as gently as a woman might havedone with an infant. Herc opened his eyes and smiled up at his shipmate.

  "Thanks, old fellow," he breathed, "I--I'm all right. You----"

  He lapsed into unconsciousness once more.

  Ned ripped his shirt open with a quick movement. With another he toreit into sheds and bandaged the wound in the lad's side. Luckily, in thestruggle, Herr Muller's aim had not been good, and the knife thrust waslittle more than a flesh wound, extending up under Herc's armpit. Butthe pain was considerable.

  Ned had hardly finished his work before the men outside came out oftheir half-stunned period of inaction. Headed by Merritt, they chargedat the cabin. Ned sprang for the door to close and lock it againstthem, but Chance was too quick for him. The fellow had been leaningback against the bulkhead. As Ned swept forward he extended his foot,and the Dreadnought Boy came to the floor in a heap. In another instantthey were all piled on him. Ned struck out furiously.

  His blows were driven by steel-plated muscles, but they had littleeffect on the sprawling mass of humanity piled above him. Before manyminutes had passed Ned was a prisoner, tied and bound as securely asHerc had been when he was carried on board.

  To his surprise, no violence was attempted by his captors. They workedin grim silence. Ned wondered vaguely what was going to happen to him.In his dazed state he didn't much care. Under Herr Muller's orders thelad was roughly thrust into the wireless room and the door locked uponhim.

  While this was being done he noted with satisfaction that upon thefaces of both Herr Muller and Merritt sundry large, angry-lookingswellings were beginning to obtrude themselves like purple plums.

  "At any rate, I've spoiled Merritt's beauty for him," thought Ned witha grim satisfaction.

  He was left unmolested in his prison place for what seemed hours.Finally, after an interminable period, he began to notice that therough rolling motion of the sloop had ceased. Had the sea gone down, orwere they at anchor in some sheltered haven, he wondered. He was not tobe long in doubt.

  The door was flung open. Merritt, Kennell and Muller entered. At a wordfrom Muller the powerless Ned was shoved and half carried through theportal. Then he was propelled up the companionway stairs.

  "Are they going to chuck me overboard?" he found himself wondering.

  A swift glance showed him that the sloop was anchored in a small bay.The sky was clear and a bright moon showed the surroundings to be sanddunes and desolate barrens.

  "Is the boat ready?" he heard Muller ask.

  From over side, where the sloop's dinghy was floating, came a responsein the affirmative. The next instant Ned found himself tumbled fromthe sloop's low side into the small craft. The fall bruised himconsiderably, but if his captors had expected him to make any outcrythey were deceived. He uttered no word of complaint, although, whatwith the tightness of his bonds and the jouncing his fall had givenhim, he was in considerable pain.

  Herr Muller, Chance, Merritt and Kennell dropped into the boat afterhim, taking the places of the two men who had unlimbered it from thestern davits.

  Evidently their plans had been prearranged, for Chance and Merrittfell to the oars without uttering a word. Muller and Kennell, grim andsilent, sat in the stern.

  It was a short row to the shore, and presently the bow of the boatgrated on a sandy beach.

  "Chuck him out!" growled Herr Muller.

  Ned was tumbled unceremoniously out on the sands. In the moonlighthe could see that the men in the boat were keeping him covered withpistols. Muller leaped out by his side.

  "Keep him covered while I cut him loose," Ned heard Muller grate out.

  The anarchist bent over him and severed his bonds.

  "What on earth is he doing that for?" wondered Ned. But he was dulygrateful as he felt his limbs free once more.

  The task of cutting the ropes completed, Herr Muller lost no time injumping back into the boat. But he need not have feared Ned, the ladwas too stiff and sore to do more than feebly stretch his limbs. Assoon as Muller was on board, Chance and Merritt laid hold of the bowof the boat and shoved off. They leaped nimbly on board as the littlecraft floated.

  As they fell to their oars Muller stood up in the stern and shoutedsomething back at Ned. The boy could not catch all of it, but he was torealize its import before long. All his ears could get of the messagewas something about "Island--rot there!"

  Then came the rhythmic splash of oars as the boat was pulled swiftlyback to the sloop. After a while Ned, although the effort made hiscramped limbs wince, managed to get to his feet. He was just in time tosee the sails of the sloop being hoisted and the little vessel, as theyfilled, stagger and move out toward the open sea once more.

  "And poor Herc, wounded and alone, is on board her," was Ned's bitterthought; "but, thank goodness," he murmured the next instant, "I'mon land and free, and it won't be long before I find some means ofrunning down that sloop."

  He sat down and chafed his ankles and wrists, and after a while wasable to move about freely. As soon as he did so he struck off acrossthe sandy dunes on which he had been set ashore. A few minutes ofwalking brought him to a broad arm of water. It flowed swiftly underthe moonlight.

  A sudden flash of fear shot through Ned. He gave a slight shiver as analarming idea shot through his mind. But he shook off his presentimentand struck out once more. It was not till he had made the third circuitof the shifting, grass-grown dunes that he realized, with a flash ofhorror, the bitter truth of his situation.

  The inexplicable fact of his freedom and of his bonds being cast offwas fully explained now.

  Herr Muller had marooned the lad on a desolate island. It was cut offfrom the shore by a swift flowing arm of water, its current so broadand so rapid that even such a strong swimmer as Ned did not dare trusthimself to try to cross it.

  By a stern effort of will Ned repressed a desire to cry aloud. Was thisto be his destiny? To perish on a sandy islet off the Atlantic Coast,while the sloop forged ahead on her errand of destruction?
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