Boy Scouts of the Eagle Patrol

by John Henry Goldfrap

  CHAPTER XXIII

  SCOUTS IN NEED ARE FRIENDS INDEED

  "Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta! Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta! Ta-ra-ta-rata! Ta-ra-ta-a-a!"

  Andy's bugle briskly announced the last morning of the Boy Scouts' campon Topsail Island. Already the first breath of autumn had begun totint the leaves of the earlier fading trees, and the chill of the earlydawn was noticeable.

  During their stay in camp the lads had profited in every way. The scoutprogram as sent out for camps by headquarters had been gone, throughwith some modifications, and Sim Jeffords had qualified as afirst-class scout while Martin Green, Walter Lonsdale and Joe Digby,once more as merry as ever, were all fitted for their second-classscout diplomas. The prospect of another patrol in Hampton had beendiscussed and the outlook for one seemed favorable.

  As the last notes of Andy's call--to turn to the subject of the openingof this chapter--rang out the tousle-headed, sleepy-eyed scoutsappeared from their tents and found themselves enveloped in a fleecymist--such a light fog as is common on that part of the Atlantic coastat this season of the year.

  "Pretty thick!" was Rob's comment as he doused his face in his tinbasin.

  "Hull-o-o-o!" suddenly hailed a voice from the water, "got anybreakfast fer an old shipmate?"

  Through the fog the boys could make out the dim outline of thecaptain's motor boat even if it's apoplectic cough had not already toldthem it was there.

  "Sure, come ashore," hailed Merritt.

  A few moments later the hearty old seaman was sitting down with thelads and performing miracles of eating.

  "It's a good thing we haven't all got your capacity," remarked Rob,laughing, "or that provision tent wouldn't have held out very long."

  "Wall, boys," observed the captain, drawing out a black pipe andramming some equally black tobacco into it with a horny thumb, "a fullhold makes fair sailin', that's my motto and 'Be Prepared' is yers. Aman can be no better prepared than with a good meal under his belt.Give me a well-fed crew and I'll navigate a raft to Hindustan, but apack uv slab-sided lime juicers couldn't work a full-rigged ship uv thefinest from here to Ban-gor."

  Having delivered himself of this bit of philosophy, the captain passedon to another subject.

  "Hear'n anything uv them varmints what slipped their moorings on thetrain?" he asked.

  "We heard that they had gone West," rejoined Merritt, "but to just whatpart I don't know."

  "That thar Sam Reddin' boy clar'd himself uv all suspicion, did he?"went on the old man.

  "Yes, after he had admitted that Jack Curtiss and Bill Bender andhimself stole our uniforms and robbed you--"

  "Consarn him," interrupted the captain.

  "You needn't grumble, his father paid you back all that was taken,"observed Merritt.

  "That don't lessen the crime," grunted the captain, "heave ahead withyer yarn, my boy; yer was sayin' that that Reddin' boy admittedeverythin'."

  "Well," continued Rob, "in consideration of his confession, it wasagreed not to prosecute him and he seems to be a reformed character.He absolutely denied, though, having had anything to do with thekidnapping of Joe Digby here, and I believe he is telling the truth."

  "The truth ain't in any uv them fellers, that's my belief," snorted thecaptain, "and if ever I get my hands on that thar Jack Curtiss or BillBender I'll lay onto 'em with a rope's end."

  "Oh, we'll never see them again," laughed Rob.

  It may be said here, however, that in this he was very much mistaken.Rob and his friends did meet the bully again and under strangecircumstances, in scenes far removed from the peaceful surroundings ofHampton.

  "Fog's thickenin'," observed the captain squinting seaward.

  As he remarked, the mist was indeed increasing in density, shroudingthe surroundings of the camp completely and covering the trees andbushes with condensed moisture, which dripped in a slow, melancholysort of way from their limbs.

  "Bad weather for ships," observed Merritt.

  "Yer may well say that, my lad, and this is a powerful bad part uv thecoast ter be navigatin' on in a fog. I've heard it said that there's alot uv iron in the Long Island shoals and that this deflects thecompasses uv ships that stay too near in shore in a fog. I don't knowhow that maybe, I don't place a lot uv stock in it myself, but I doknow that steamers and vessels uv al kinds go ashore here more thanseems ter be natural."

  As he finished speaking there came, the fog a sound that fitted in sowell with subject of his conversation that it almost an accompanimentto it.

  "Who-oo-oo-oo!"

  "A steamer's siren," exclaimed Rob.

  "That's what it is, lad," assented the old sailor, as the sound cameagain, booming through the fog with a melancholy cadence.

  "Who-o-o-o-o-o!" roared the siren once more.

  "I'll bet the feller who's on the bridge uv that ship is havin' his owntroubles just about now," remarked the captain, "hark at that!"

  The whistle was now roaring like a wounded bull, sending distinctvibrations of sound through the increasing fog billows.

  "Thick as pea soup," commented the captain, refilling his pipe, "reckonI'll have ter stay here till she lifts a bit. Wind's hauled to thesou'west too. Bad quarter means more fog and smother."

  "Who-o-o-o-o!" boomed the siren of the hidden vessel once more, andthis time it was answered by another whistle somewhere further off inthe fog.

  "Two uv 'em now. Stand by fer a collision," shouted the captain, whilethe scouts, intensely interested in the development of this hiddendrama of the fog, clustered about him.

  "Who-o-o-o-o! Who-o-o-o-o! Who-o-o-o-o!" came the nearest siren.

  "She's standin' in shore," shouted the captain, "boys, she's in gravedanger."

  "What's she coming in for?" asked Merritt.

  "I suppose her skipper thinks he's got plenty uv water under his keeland wants ter give a wide berth ter the other vessel," explained thecaptain. "Boys, if only we had a big bell or a steam whistle we couldwarn them poor fellows uv their peril."

  "It does seem hard to hear them blundering in and not be able to warnthem," agreed Rob, "there should have been a lighthouse put on theseshoals long ago."

  "Right yer are, boy, but the government is a slow movin' vessel andhard ter get under way."

  The boys had to laugh at this odd way of expressing the difficulty ofgetting new lights erected, but they knew as well almost as theircompanion the dangers of the ocean off this part of Long Island.

  The whistle boomed out its wailing note again.

  "Closer and closer," lamented the captain, "what's the matter withthose lubbers? Yer'd think they'd have a leadsman out."

  All at once the catastrophe for which they had been more or lessprepared happened. So quickly did it come that they had not time tospeak.

  The echoes of the last note of the siren had hardly died out when therecame a loud explosion.

  "Bang!"

  "A signal gun," roared the captain.

  "They are calling for help?" asked Rob.

  "That's it, my boy. They've struck, just as I thought they would."

  The distress gun sounded again.

  "They're in a bad mess by the sound uv that," said the captain.

  "It doesn't sound as if they were more than half a mile or so out,"remarked Rob.

  "I guess they're not. Hark at that! They must be scared ter death."

  The gun was fired three times in rapid succession.

  "They'll never hear that at Lone Hill life savin' station," grimlycommented the captain, "and this fog's too thick fer them ter see her."

  "Do you imagine she is badly damaged, captain?" asked Rob anxiously.The idea of the stranded ship lost in the dense fog affected himstrangely.

  "Can't tell," the captain replied to his question, "may have stove ahole in herself and be sinking now."

  "Can't we do something to help them?" asked Merritt eagerly.

  "Only one thing we can do, boy, and that's full uv danger."

  "What is it?" demanded Rob, ignor
ing the last part of the captain'sspeech.

  "Get in ther boat and go out thar to 'em. If they're sinkin' we canhelp 'em a whole lot, and--"

  The captain stopped short in amazement.

  Rob, Merritt and Tubby had already started for the beach and Hiram,"the wireless scout", was close on their heels.

  "Well, douse my toplights," exclaimed the captain, rising to his feetand lumbering after them, "Yer can't beat the Boy Scouts."

  CHAPTER XXIV

  A MEETING IN THE FOG--CONCLUSION

  "Can you make her out?"

  Five pairs of eyes peered through the mist that hung like a white pallan every side of the Flying Fish.

  "Stop that motor a minute, while I listen!"

  In compliance with Rob's order Merritt shut down the panting engine.

  "What's that noise off there?" asked Hiram suddenly.

  "That sort of throbbing sound?" rejoined Tubby Hopkins.

  "That's it, sounds like a big heart beating," put in Rob.

  "I guess that's their engine. They're tryin' ter back her off,"suggested the captain.

  "Give them a blast on that fog-horn and see if they answer," said Robsuddenly.

  Hiram took up the big brass fish-horn, used as a fog signal on theFlying Fish, and blew a loud, long call.

  After an interval of waiting, from out of the mist came the wail of thestranded ship's siren once more.

  "There she is, right in there," declared the captain, pointing seawardinto the mist. "Steer right on that tack, Rob, and we'll pick her uppretty soon."

  The motor was started up once more and the Flying Fish forged aheadthrough the smother. Suddenly Rob, with a sharp cry of:

  "Stop her!" swung his wheel over sharp and the Flying Fish headed about.

  The gleaming black rampart of a large vessel's side had suddenly loomedup dead ahead of him.

  "Ahoy! aboard the steamer," roared the captain, framing his mouth withhis hands, "what ship is that?"

  "The El Paso from London to New York," came back a hail from somewhereabove them in a somewhat surprised tone, "who are you?"

  "The Flying Fish of Hampton, Long Island," responded Rob, with a laugh.

  "Never heard of her," responded the voice, "we're hard aground on oneof your Long Island shoals it seems."

  "That's what yer are," exclaimed the captain, "how come yer ter behuggin' the shore so hard?"

  "Trying to avoid a collision with another vessel."

  "Are yer all right?" bellowed the captain.

  "Seem to be. So far as we can find out there's not a plate started,but if you're from the land we've got a couple of passengers we'd bethankful if you'd take ashore. Will you come on board?"

  "Sure, if yer'll drop a Jacob's ladder," bellowed the captain at theinvisible speaker.

  "In a minute."

  The conversation had been carried on without either of the parties toit being able to see one another, but the captain of the vessel--for hehad been the boy's interlocutor--now came off the bridge and with someof the crew watched two sailors lower a Jacob's ladder and make it fastto the rail.

  "Now we go aboard," said Captain Hudgins, clambering up the swayingcontrivance as nimbly as an athlete, "make our painter fast ter theladder, Rob."

  This being done, the boys followed the veteran on board. The steamer,when they gained her deck, puzzled them a good deal and it was not tillher captain, a genial blond-bearded Britisher, explained to them thatshe was a cattle ship that they understood the utility of the woodenstructures with which her decks were obstructed.

  The captain explained that these were pens for the cattle she expectedto take back to England, from which country she was returning afterhaving taken over a large consignment of steers.

  "Which," went on the captain, "brings us to my passengers. They areMr. Frank Harkness and his son, of Lariat, a small cattle town in theWest, where Mr. Harkness has a large ranch. They were his cattle thatwe took over and as he had difficulty in engaging a berth on a liner atthis time of year, when the passenger ships are crowded, he decided toreturn with us. Here is Mr. Harkness now," he added, as a tall,bronzed man, with a long coat draped over a pair of broad shoulders,and a wide-brimmed sombrero above keen eyes, approached.

  "Visitors from the shore, captain?" he inquired, a pleasant smileilluminating his clean-shaven, sun-browned face.

  "That's what they are," rejoined the captain, "just dropped in on us,don't you know."

  "You mean we dropped in on them," amended the other with a laugh, "comehere, Harry," he called, raising his voice, "we've got some company outof the fog."

  In response to his call a lad about the age of Rob appeared from theafter-end of the ship, where the cabins were, and greeted the boys witha smile and a nod. He, like his father, wore a sombrero and was quiteas sunburned. For the rest he was well-knit and athletic looking andhad evidently lived an out-door life.

  "Well, we are getting plenty of experiences away from the ranch, eh,Harry?" observed his father, after the boys and the captain hadintroduced themselves and there had been a great and ceremonioushand-shaking all round.

  "We just naturally are," responded the rancher's son. "Say, captain,"he went on, "when do you expect to get off?"

  "If we are not too badly hung up we ought to get off at high-water,"rejoined the Britisher.

  "That won't be till late to-night," observed Rob.

  "If I could only get a tug we might do better," observed the captain,"in fact, since I've had the engines going I don't think we can backoff under our own power."

  "Have you got a wireless?" asked Hiram, his pet subject uppermost.

  "Yes, but our operator went ashore in London and I guess he had toogood a time; anyhow he never showed up so we had to cross without one."

  "Is she working?" asked Hiram interestedly.

  "Sure, there's plenty of 'juice' as the operators, call it. I tried towork it coming over," laughed Harry, "but outside of getting a propershock, I didn't do much."

  "I'll send out a signal for a tug," said Hiram quietly, "there's astation at Island. They'll pick up the message and transmit it."

  "What--you can work a wireless?"

  "A little bit," said the lad modestly.

  "Come on, I'll show you the way," said the delighted captain, startingoff with Hiram, and followed by the others.

  "Say, don't think it personal of me, will you?" remarked Harry Harknessto Rob as they followed, "but would you mind telling me what you allare wearing those uniforms for?"

  "Why, we're Boy Scouts," rejoined Rob proudly, and went on to explainjust what the organization is.

  "Say, that's great," exclaimed Harry enthusiastically, "I'd like toform a patrol out at Lariat. Do you reckon I could?"

  "I don't doubt it," rejoined Rob, smiling the Western enthusiasm.

  "By cracky, I'll do it," went on Harry Harkness, "I'll make it amounted patrol and if we don't get old 'Silver Tip' then, besides allthe other sport we'll have, call me a coyote."

  "Who or what is old Silver Tip?" asked Rob, somewhat interested in hisbreezy new acquaintance.

  "Silver Tip is a grizzly," explained Harry, "a grizzly bear you know.Dad says he's the biggest he's ever seen and he seems to bear--excusethe pun, please--he seems to bear a charmed life. All the boys on theranch are crazy to get a shot at him, but they've never been able to."

  "Say, that sounds bully," agreed Rob, "I wish I could get out West fora while."

  "It's a great country," said Harry sagely, as they entered the wirelessroom, where Hiram was already bending over the instrument sending out amessage for aid, while the blue spark leaped and crackled across itsgap. The others gazed on admiringly as Hiram, having completed hismessage, adjusted the detector on his head and awaited an answer.

  It soon came. Tugs would be dispatched as soon as the fog lifted, theoperator at Fire Island announced.

  "That's a weight off my mind," breathed the captain, while Harryhastily confided to his father that the lads who had board
ed the vesselout of the mist were Boy Scouts.

  "The fog is lifting," announced Rob, as they streamed out of thewireless room.

  "Yes, the wind has shifted," remarked Captain Hudgins. "I guess it wasthat sou'west breeze that brought the mist. She's hauled ter thenor'west now, and in an hour's time it will be clear."

  "I wonder if you boys can put us ashore," said Mr. Harkness, as thegroup walked aft to the captain's cabin; "I would be very grateful ifyou could. It seems that it will be some time before the steamer iscleared, and I am anxious to make a train for the West."

  The boys agreed to land the ranchman and his son as soon as the fogcleared off, which, as the captain had prophesied, it did in about anhour's time. The boys had spent the interim in exploring the ship andlistening to Harry Harkness' tales of the ranch and the marvelousexploits of Silver Tip, the huge grizzly, who derived his name, itappeared, from a spot of white fur on his breast. In fact, so fast didthey get on, that by the time Harry and his father were called byCaptain Hudgins to embark in the Flying Fish, the boys had become fastfriends.

  The run to the shore was made quickly and by landing the two travelersat a point above Hampton they were enabled to make a train that wouldland them in the city in time for dinner. Mr. Harkness whiled away thetrip by plying the boys with all sorts of questions about the BoyScouts and seemed greatly interested in their answers. Altogether theboys felt quite sorry when it came time to part at the wharf atFarmingdale, the place where the rancher and his son were put ashore.

  "Well, good-bye, boys," said Mr. Harkness, holding out a big hand toRob, who took it and was amazed to find a twenty dollar gold pieceslipped into his palm by the ranchman.

  "Oh, I couldn't think of taking that," he said, insisting on handing itback despite the ranchman's protests, "I appreciate your motive, but Icouldn't think of taking any money for an ordinary courtesy."

  "By Sam Hooker, you're right, boy," cried the ranchman heartily, "andit's a privilege to meet such a bunch of fine lads. I thought all youEasterners were a bunch of stuck-up tenderfeet, but I find I'mwrong--anyhow so far as the Boy Scouts are concerned."

  A few minutes later the rancher and his son were hastening to therailroad station, followed by the boys' eyes. As they entered thedepot, just in time to catch the New York train--they waved a heartyfarewell and the boys waved and shouted in return.

  "We've only known them a few hours, but I feel as if I'd just saidgood-bye to two friends," said Rob as they turned away and prepared togo back to the island in their boat and break camp.

  "So do I!" said Tubby; "I wonder if we'll ever see them again."

  "No, I guess they're kind of ships that pass in the night,"' laughedMerritt, "however, I'm glad we did them a good turn."

  The boys, however, were destined to meet the ranchers again and to havemany strange and exciting adventures, among which the ultimate downfallof Silver Tip was to be one. Could they have looked into the future,too, they would have seen that in the Far West they were to facedangers and difficulties of which they had as yet never dreamed andwere to be the victims of the malicious contrivings of Bill Bender andour old, acquaintance, Jack Curtiss.

  A few weeks after the events related above there was great excitementin Hampton over the announcement that Merritt's courageous act oflife-saving and the achievements of the other young scouts of the EaglePatrol were to receive official recognition. A field secretary of theorganization arrived at the village one evening and was met at thedepot by the Patrol in full uniform, and with the village band drawn upat their head. Proudly, under the Eagle standard, they marched to theTown Hall, which had been illuminated in a style the villagers wouldnever have believed possible and were greeted by the local committeeheaded by Commodore Wingate and Mr. Blake.

  "Three cheers for the Boy Scouts!" came from a voice in the back of thecrowded hall after the honors had been distributed and the advances inrank announced.

  The shout that went up cracked the plaster on the ceiling of thevenerable building.

  "Speech, speech," shouted one of those individuals who always do raisethat cry on the slightest excuse.

  Rob Blake, very red and protesting, was hustled to the front of thestage on which the Scouts had been drawn up.

  "I can't make a speech," he began.

  "Hear! Hear!" shouted the crowd, most of whom couldn't.

  "But on behalf of the Boy Scouts I want to thank you all and--and--"

  The rest was drowned by the band which, having been quiescent for tenwhole minutes, could maintain silence no longer and blared out intothat favorite of all village bands, "Hail to the Chief."

  "Come on, let's get out of here," whispered Rob to Merritt, whosebreast was decorated with the coveted bronze cross and red ribbon,which is the highest honor a scout can attain.

  As they slipped out upon the darkened street a boy came up to them withan outstretched hand.

  "I want to tell you I'm sorry for the part I played in the mean tricksJack Curtiss and Bill Bender put up on you fellows," he saidcontritely, "will you shake hands?"

  "Sure we will, Sam Redding," responded Merritt, extending his palm,while Rob did likewise.

  "At that," added Merritt, "I guess we win."

  And here, with their former enemy become a remorseful friend, we will,for the present, leave the Boy Scouts to renew our acquaintance withthem in the next volume of this series which will be called: "The BoyScouts on the Range."

  THE END