CHAPTER II
A CRUISE TO THE ISLAND
"Whatever are you doing, Rob?"
It was the morning after the consultation of Jack Curtiss and hiscronies, and Corporal Crawford was looking over the fence into hisleader's yard.
Rob was bending over a curious-looking apparatus, consisting of a bentstick held in a bow-shape by a taut leather thong. The appliance wastwisted about an upright piece of wood sharpened at one end--which wasrotated as the lad ran the bow back and forth across it.
Presently smoke began to rise from the flat piece of timber into whichthe point of the upright stick had been boring and depositing sawdust,and Rob, by industriously blowing at the accumulation, presently causedit to burst into flame.
"There I've done it," he exclaimed triumphantly, arising with a flushedface from his labors.
"Done what?" inquired young Crawford interestedly.
"Made fire in the Indian way," replied Rob triumphantly.
"I thought they made it by rubbing two sticks together."
"Only book Indians do that," replied Rob, "I'll tell you it took me atime to get the hang of it, but I've got it now."
"It's quite a stunt, all right," commented the corporal admiringly.
"You bet, and it's useful, too," replied Rob. "I'll put the bow anddrill in my pocket, and then any time we get stuck for matches we'llhave no trouble in making a signal smoke or lighting cooking fires."
"Say, I've got some news for you," went on young Crawford, "did youknow that Sam Redding has entered that freak motor boat he's beenbuilding in the yacht club regatta? He's out for the club trophy."
"No, is he, though?" exclaimed Rob, keenly interested. "Then the crewand skipper of the Flying Fish will have to look alive. I know thatSam's father helped him out with that boat and put a lot of newwrinkles in it. I didn't think, though, he'd have it ready in time forthe races."
The boys referred to the coming motor-boat races which were to takeplace shortly on the inlet at Hampton. Like most of the other lads inthe seashore town, Merritt and Rob had a lot of experience on the waterand some time before had built a speedy motor boat from knock-downframes. The Flying Fish, as they called her, was entered for the mainevent referred to, the prize for which was a silver cup, donated by themerchants of the town. There were several other entries in the race,but Rob and his crew, consisting of Merritt and Tubby Hopkins,confidently expected the Flying Fish to easily lead them all.
"I wonder if the Sam Redding can show her stern to the Flying Fish?"mused Rob. "I'd like to lake a good look at her."
"Let's go down to Redding's boat yard," suggested Merritt; "she's lyingthere on the ways. I don't suppose any one would object to our sizingher up."
Rob hailed the suggestion as a good one.
"We can call in for Tubby on the way," he said, as he darted into thehouse after his hat.
The boys dropped in at Tubby's house on their way to the water-front,and received from the stout youth some additional details regardingSam's boat.
"She's a hydroplane," volunteered Tubby, "and Tom Jennings, down at theyard, says she's as fast as a race horse."
"A hydroplane?--that's one of those craft that cut along the top of thewater like a skimming dish, isn't it?" asked Merritt.
"That's the idea," responded Rob. "They're supposed to be as speedy asanything afloat in smooth water."
Thus conversing they reached the boat-building yard of Sam Redding'sfather and were greeted by Tom Jennings, a big good-natured shipcarpenter. "Hullo, Tom! Can we see that new boat of Sam's?" inquiredRob.
"Sure, I guess there's no objection," grinned Tom, "come right thisway. There she is, over there by that big winch."
Report had not erred apparently as to the novel qualities of SamRedding's speed craft. She was about twenty-five feet long, narrow andpainted black. She was perfectly flat-bottomed, her underside beingdeeply notched at frequent intervals. On the edge of those notches shewas supposed to glide over the water when driven at top speed.
"She certainly looks like a winner," commented Rob, as he gazed at herclean, slender lines and sharp bow.
"She's got wonderful speed," Tom Jennings confided. "We tried her outthe other night when no one was around. But I don't think that inrough water she'll be much good."
"No, I'd prefer the Flying Fish for the waters hereabouts," agreed Rob,"it's liable to come on rough in a hurry and then a chap who was out ina dry-goods box, like that thing, would be in trouble."
"What are you calling a dry-goods box?" demanded an indignant voicebehind them, and turning, the lads saw Sam Redding with a menacing lookon his face. A little way behind him stood Bill Bender and JackCurtiss.
"Oh, I beg your pardon, Sam," said Rob. "I really admire yourhydroplane very much, and I think it will give us a tussle for thetrophy, all right; but I don't think she'd be much good in any kind ofa sea-way."
"That's my business, you interfering little runt," snapped Sam, who,with Bill Bender and Jack Curtiss to back him, felt very brave; thoughordinarily he would have avoided trouble with the young scouts. "Whatare you doing spying around the yard here, anyhow?" he went oninsolently.
"We are not spying," indignantly burst out Merritt. "We asked TomJennings if we couldn't look at your hydroplane, as we were naturallyinterested in her, and he gave us permission."
"Well, he had no business to," growled Sam; "he ought to be attendingto his work instead of showing a lot of nosy young cubs my new boat."
"They are capable of stealing your ideas," chimed in Jack Curtiss, "andputting them on their own boat."
"That's ridiculous," laughed Rob, "as I said I wouldn't want to haveanything to do with such a contrivance except on a lake or a river."
"Well, you keep your advice and your ideas to yourself, and get out ofthis yard!" roared Sam, waxing bolder and bolder, and mistaking Rob'sconciliatory manner for cowardice. "I've a good mind to punch yourhead."
"Better come on and try it," retorted Rob, preparing for the immediateonslaught which it seemed reasonable from Sam's manner to expect.
But it didn't come.
Muttering something about "young cubs," and "keeping the boat-yard gatelocked," Sam turned to his chums and invited them to come and try outhis new motor in the shop.
As the three chums had no desire to "mix it up with Sam on his ownplace," as Tubby put it, they left the yard promptly, and walked ondown the water-front to the wharf at which lay the Flying Fish, thefastest craft in the Hampton Motor Boat Club. Rob's boat was, to tellthe truth, rather broad of beam for a racer and drew quite a littlewater. She had a powerful motor and clean lines, however, and whilenot primarily designed solely for "mug-hunting," had beaten everythingshe had raced with during the few months since the boys had completedher. The money for her motor had been given to Rob by his father, whowas quite indulgent to Rob in money matters, having noticed that thelad always expended the sums given him wisely.
"Let's take a spin," suddenly suggested Tubby.
"Nothing to prevent us," answered Rob; "we've got plenty of time beforedinner. Come on, boys."
The lads were soon on board and examining the gasoline tank, to see howmuch fuel they had on hand, and oiling up the engine. The fuelreceptacle proved to be almost full, so after filling the lubricantcups and attending to the batteries, they started up the engine--apowerful, three cylindered, twelve-horse affair capable of driving thetwenty-two foot Flying Fish through the water at twelve miles an houror better.
Just as Rob was casting off the head-line there came a hail from thewharf above them.
"Ahoy, there, shipmates! Where are yer bound fer this fine, sunny day?"
The lads looked up to see the weather-beaten countenance of Captain JobHudgins, one of the characters of the vicinity. He was a formerwhaler, and lived on a small island some distance from Hampton. On hislittle territory he fished and grew a few vegetables, "trading in" hisproduce at the Hampton grocery stores for his simple wants. He,however, had a pensi
on, and was supposed to have a "snug littlefortune" laid by. His only companion in his island solitude was it bigNewfoundland dog named "Skipper."
The animal stood beside its master on the dock and wagged its tail atthe sight of the boys, whom it knew quite well from their frequentvisits to the captain's little island.
"Hullo, captain!" shouted Rob, as the veteran saluted his three youngfriends. "Where's your boat?"
"Oh, her engine went--busted, and I had to leave her at the yard belowfer repairs," explained the captain. "I wonder if yer boys can give mea lift back if yer goin' near Topsail Island?"
"Surest thing you know," rejoined Rob hastily. "Come right aboard.But how are you going to get off your island again if your motor islaid up here to be fixed?"
"Oh, I'll use my rowboat," responded the old mariner, clambering downinto the Flying Fish. "Say, this is quite a right smart contraption,ain't she?"
"We think she is a pretty good little boat," modestly replied Rob,taking his place at the wheel. "Now, then, Merritt, start up thatengine."
"Hold on a minute!" shouted Tubby. "We forgot the dog."
Sure enough, Skipper was dashing up and down the wharf in greatdistress at the prospect of being deserted.
"Put yer boat alongside that landin' stage at the end of the wharf,"suggested his master. "Skipper can get aboard from there, I reckon."
Rob steered the Flying Fish round to the floating landing, to which aninclined runway led from the wharf. Skipper dashed down it as soon ashe saw what was happening, and was waiting, ready to embark, when theFlying Fish came alongside.
"Poor old Skipper, I reckon yer thought we was goin' ter maroon yer,"said Captain Job, as the animal jumped on board with a bark of "thanks"for his rescue. "I tell yer, boys, I wouldn't lose that dog fer allthe money in Rob's father's bank. He keeps good watch out an theIsland, I'll tell yer."
"I didn't think any one much came there, except us," said Rob, as theFlying Fish headed away from the wharf and began to cut through thewaters of the inlet.
"Oh, yes; there's others," responded the old man. "That Jack Curtisslad and his two chums are out there quite often."
"Bill Bender and Sam Redding, I suppose you mean," said Tubby.
"Those their names?" asked the captain. "Well, I don't know any gooduv any uv 'em. Old Skipper here chased 'em away from my melon patchthe other day. I reckon they thought Old Scratch was after them, theway they run; but they got away with some melons, just the same."
The old man laughed aloud at the recollection of the marauders'precipitous flight.
That Jack Curtiss and his two cronies had made a rendezvous of theisland was news to the boys, and not agreeable news, either. They hadbeen planning a patrol camp there later on in the summer, and the bullyand his two chums were not regarded by them as desirable neighbors.However, they said nothing, as they could not claim sole right to usethe island, which was property that had been so long in litigation thatIt had come to be known as "No Man's Land" as well as by its propername. The captain was only a squatter there, but no one cared todisturb him, and he had led the existence of a semi-hermit there formany years.
The Flying Fish rapidly covered the calm waters of the inlet and wassoon dancing over the swells outside.
"I'm going to let her out a bit," said Rob suddenly; "look out forspray."
"Spray don't bother a brine-pickled old salt like me," laughed thecaptain. "Let her go."
The Flying Fish seemed fairly to leap forward as Merritt gave her thefull power of her engine. As Rob had said, it did indeed behoove heroccupants to look out for spray. The sparkling spume came flying backin sheets as she cut through the waves, but the boys didn't mind thatany more than did their weather-beaten companion. As for Skipper, hebarked aloud in sheer joy as the Flying Fish slid along as if she weretrying to live up to her name to her utmost ability.
"This is a good little sea boat," remarked the captain, as they plungedonward. "She's as seaworthy as she is speedy, I guess."
"She'll stand a lot of knocking about, and that's a fact," agreed Rob.
"Well," remarked the old man, gazing about him, "it's a good thing thatshe is, fer, if I'm not mistaken--and I'm not often off as regards theweather--we are goin' ter have quite a little blow before yer boys getback home."
"A storm?" asked Tubby, somewhat alarmed.
"Oh, no; not what yer might call a storm," laughed the captain; "butjust what we used to term a 'capful uv wind.'"
"Well, so long as it isn't a really bad blow, it won't trouble theFlying Fish," Rob assured him.
"Hullo!" exclaimed the old man suddenly. "What queer kind uv craft isthat?"
He pointed back to the mouth of the now distant inlet, from which acurious-looking black craft was emerging at what seemed to be greatspeed.
"It's that hydroplane of Sam Redding's, for a bet!" cried Rob. "Here,Tubby, take the wheel a minute, while I put the glasses on her."
The lad stood up in the heaving motor craft, steadying himself againstthe bulwarks by his knees, and peered through his marine-glasses.
"It's the hydroplane, sure enough," he said. "By ginger, but she cango, all right! Sam and Jack and Bill are all in her. They seem to beheading right out to sea, too."
"Say!" exclaimed Tubby suddenly, "if it comes on to blow, as thecaptain said it would, they'll be in a bad fix, won't they?"
"In that ther shoe-box thing," scornfully exclaimed the old captain,who had also been looking through the glasses, "why, I wouldn't give aconfederate dollar bill with a hole in it fer their lives."
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