Kitabı oku: «Motor Boat Boys Down the Danube; or, Four Chums Abroad», sayfa 4

CHAPTER VII
WHEN THE STORM CAME

As Buster had taken a survey of the situation before darkness came along, he knew of a promising point close at hand. Here they could toss their lines out, and let the current drag them partly down-stream.

It was not the kind of fishing that the boys preferred, because they were accustomed to using jointed rods, and even casting artificial flies with which to lure the frisky trout or the hard-pulling black bass to their destruction. But as Buster wisely declared, “When you’re fish hungry you’ve just got to shut your eyes and get ’em any old way; results are what count then, not methods.”

Presently Buster had a savage bite, and drew in a squirming victim. He eyed this in the light of the rising moon and then remarked:

“I don’t know the species that fellow belongs to, but he looks good to me, and all I hope is there are a lot of his uncles and his cousins and his aunts hanging around, anxious for grub bait. Hello! Got one, have you, Josh? Bully for you! Whew! He’s a scrapper in the bargain, I tell you. I hope he doesn’t break loose, and give us the grand laugh!”

Buster’s interest was so taken up with what was going on near him that he forgot his own line for the time being, until a quick summons at the other end announced that one of the said finny relations seemed anxious to follow the first victim to the shore.

Then both boys were kept busy pulling in hand over hand. They succeeded in landing both prizes, which fact made them very joyful.

“Only needs one more to complete the first circle, though I think I’d like two for my share, Josh, and so might all the rest. You see there’s a heap of waste when you come to take off the head and tail. Let’s hurry up and get ’em while the bitin’s good. You never can tell when fish will quit takin’ hold.”

It was certainly less than half an hour after they first started off when the two sportsmen came strolling back to the bright camp fire dangling a pretty string of still lively fish between them on a little pole.

“Two apiece, and one left for luck!” announced Buster, triumphantly, as the other fellows jumped to their feet with expressions of pleasure to look the catch over.

“They ought to be cleaned right away, and a little salt rubbed inside so they’ll keep nice and fresh over night,” said Josh, “so let’s get busy, Buster.”

“But don’t you think that ought to be our part of the business?” asked George, although there was not very much animation in his manner, for George hated to handle the job of cleaning fish, though when it came to eating them no one ever knew him to make any objection.

“Now that’s kind of you, George, to offer to do the thing for us,” observed Buster, sweetly; “especially since we know how you detest the job. Thank you, but as our hands are in, Josh and me can attend to them all right.”

Josh, however, did not look overly well pleased when he heard Buster say this. Truth to tell, he had already arranged it in his wicked heart that George should be trapped into “doing something for his keep.”

“We’ll let you off this time, George,” he remarked, pointedly, “but the very next batch of fish we haul in you can tackle the job.”

George only chuckled, and drew a sigh of relief. Perhaps he may have said to himself that sometimes people count their chickens before they are hatched, and that possibly there might never be another “batch;” remembering the story of the small boy who while eating an apple, upon being appealed to by an envious comrade to give him the core, told him “there ain’t a-goin’ to be any core, Jimmy.”

In due time the fish were laid away in a safe place where no roving animal was apt to discover and appropriate them. Buster might in his happy-go-lucky fashion have been careless in this particular, but shrewd Josh was far too smart to take unnecessary chances.

“We don’t know anything about the country around here,” he told the others. “They may have wild animals, and again p’raps there’s nothing of the kind to be feared. But it’s best to lock the stable before the horse is stolen.”

So the fish were kept aboard the boat, although from time to time George might have been observed to sniff the air suggestively as he prepared to sleep, plainly indicating that he disliked the fishy smell. But then George always was what Josh called “finicky” in his habits, and the rest seemed to pay little or no attention to things that annoyed the particular one.

When morning came, without any untoward happening, Buster took particular pains to cook that mess of fish to a beautiful brown color. He followed the old and well known camp method of first throwing several slices of fat salt pork into the skillet and rendering it down. Then when it was boiling hot he placed as many of the fish as it would accommodate in the pan, first rolling them in cracker dust. Turning them back and forth as was necessary he finally had them looking so appetizing that the others refused to wait a minute longer, but made a raid on the lot.

The breakfast was a pronounced success. Even George was heard to say that he did not care how soon it was repeated; which was quite reckless on his part, since he had been given due warning as to his duties next time.

The sun was well up and shining brightly when they left the scene of their camp. It promised to be a rather warm day, Josh predicted, after taking a look around at the sky, and sizing up the breeze. Josh pretended to be something of a weather sharp, though hardly calling himself a prophet along those lines.

“And,” said he, as they started down the river again, “it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if we ran into a squall before we see that old sun go down tonight.”

“Do you really mean that, Josh?” asked Buster.

“All humbug,” muttered George, disdainfully, as though he never pinned any faith on “signs,” and considered all weather predictions as founded on mere guess work.

Josh shrugged his shoulders as he went on to say:

“Oh! very well, just wait and see if I know beans or not, that’s all. They have some pretty lively thunder storms along the Danube, I’m told, and if that’s so what better time than in August could you expect to run across one? Course I may be mistaken, because I’m only a tenderfoot of a weather sharp; but wait and see.”

“Oh! we will, Josh, we will,” replied George, in his tantalizing way.

The morning passed pleasantly enough, though as noon came on it might be noticed that everybody showed signs of being hot. The sun certainly did blaze down upon them, and it was even warmer inside the cabin of the powerboat than outside, so it seemed useless trying to get any relief by seeking the shade.

They drew in at a place where there were trees, just to lie around for possibly an hour under their shelter, while they ate a cold “snack.” It was too furiously hot to dream of building a fire and making a pot of coffee.

Then once again they embarked for another run down-stream. Jack figured they had covered more distance that morning by five miles than on the other day. This fact cheered them up immensely, and as they continued to go with the current they took their customary interest in what was to be seen along the eastern shore, where they would not have the bright rays of the declining sun in their eyes.

Many were the odd sights they beheld from time to time. First it was this thing that attracted them, and hardly had their exclamations of delight ceased than something else would be discovered further down that chained their attention until they were close enough to make out its character.

One thing Jack called their attention to, and this was the fact that they were meeting with more evidences of mobilization than ever, as they proceeded further from the Hungarian capital.

The news may have been belated in reaching many of these interior hamlets and pretty little towns along the Danube; but it must have arrived at last, and no end of excitement had followed.

They saw scores and even hundreds of men in uniform, some marching in squads as if hurrying to join the colors; others guarding bridges, or other vulnerable structures, the latter doubtless being old men who could not go to the front, though still possessing the military spirit, and desirous of doing something for the country of his birth.

Jack was delighted with this chance to see things he had often read about but never really expected to set eyes on.

“I used to believe that it was a terrible crime to have every young fellow serve a couple of years in the army before he could go into business, and then be reckoned as belonging to the reserves, but I’m changing my mind some, let me tell you,” was what he said later in the afternoon.

“How’s that, Jack?” asked Buster.

“Well,” continued the other, obligingly, “in the first place it makes for a love for their country when they know they represent a unit in her defense. Then again it goes to make the young fellows amenable to discipline, something millions of boys in our country are lacking in. It teaches them to be frugal, and the life outdoors makes them a lot more healthy.”

“Sounds good to me, Jack,” assented Josh.

“I know we’ve done a heap of talking over in America about the mad folly of Germany in making every young man serve a term in the army, and boasted that our boys needn’t ever fear of being forced to join the colors; but perhaps, fellows, after this world war is over, we’ll be doing the same thing. Preparedness is what is going to count for a whole lot, let me tell you; and both Great Britain and the States will learn a lesson before they’re through.”

At the time of course Jack was only taking a vague peep into the future; but events that have happened since then show he had a wise head on his young shoulders. When these words are being penned camps are springing up all over the States where business men can have a month’s training in military ways; and those who come back home admit that they have taken on a new lease of life, such are the great benefits to be obtained in that fashion.

It must have been past the middle of the hot afternoon, when the boys were lolling about, almost panting for breath, and taking things as easy as possible, that a sudden sound startled them.

“Thunder!” ejaculated Buster, as he popped up his head to look around.

Black clouds were sweeping swiftly down back of them, and even as they looked a flash of vivid lighting resembling a forked dagger shot toward the earth, almost immediately succeeded by another deep-toned burst of thunder.

“What do you say to that, George?” demanded Josh, turning a triumphant face on the other.

“Oh! seems like you hit the mark with that guess,” admitted the other, “but then anybody might one out of three. Besides, we haven’t got the storm yet, have we? It may go around us.”

“No danger of that,” declared Josh; “these summer storms nearly always follow the channel of a river. I’ve known ’em to pour down pitchforks for half an hour on the water and the other bank, and never a drop fall on me. But we’ll get all the rain you want to see right soon now.”

“I do hope it’ll cool the air some then,” complained Buster, who being stouter than any of his chums, must have suffered more in proportion from the heat.

“What had we better do, Jack?” asked George, surveying the black clouds uneasily.

“It’s too bad that we don’t happen to see any cove where we could run in and stay,” replied the pilot; “so on the whole I think we’d better make a turn and head into the storm that’s coming down the river.”

“That sounds good to me!” declared Josh, instantly understanding the benefit such a course would likely bring to them; “our cabin is partly open in the rear, but well protected forward. We can use that tarpaulin to cover the well back here, and after all the storm won’t last long. Swing her around, Jack, and edge in a bit closer to the shore while you’re about it. The river is pretty wide right here.”

It seemed three times as wide to Buster just then, as at any time before; but of course this came from his suddenly awakened fears.

“How deep do you think it can be out here, Josh?” he asked after another fearful rolling crash of thunder had passed into rumblings in the distance.

“Oh! a mile or so,” replied Josh, carelessly.

“Whee! then all I hope is we don’t get blown over on our beam-ends, and have to swim for it,” Buster was heard to say.

They had just managed to get the boat headed up-stream when the squall struck them with almost hurricane force. The water was lifted and flung against the little boat with terrific violence. Indeed, the boys working energetically could hardly manage to fasten the stout tarpaulin to the hooks by which it was meant to be secured in an emergency like this, so as to cover the open well at the stern.

The rain began to come down in wild gusts, the wind howled around them, the boat rose and fell frantically, and Jack had all he could do to keep the plunging craft headed into the furious storm.

It grew almost dark around them. Water found entrance despite the cover, and the boys prepared to take a soaking. As they were not made of salt, and had undergone many privations and discomforts during other days, they uttered no complaint. Indeed, Buster was telling himself that it would be all right if they only got through in safety; clothes could be easily dried, but it was another thing to be wrecked out on a raging river in a storm like this.

The waves were mounting pretty high, so that with every plunge they could tell that the propeller was fighting the air, as it was hoisted above the resisting water. This was what alarmed Jack, for he knew the danger attending such a sudden and constant change of speed.

He tried the best he could to ease the strain each time they rose and fell; but it was always with an anxious heart that he listened to hear if the propeller still continued to do its duty after every mad plunge.

Minutes had passed, just how long a time since the beginning of the storm none of the boys could tell. Then all at once every one noticed that they had ceased to progress steadily. The noise of the churning propeller had also ceased.

“We’re turning broadside to the blow, Jack!” shouted Buster, although that was hardly the case as yet, his fears magnifying the danger.

“What happened, Jack?” roared Josh.

“Engine’s broken down, and we’re at the mercy of the storm!” came the staggering reply.

CHAPTER VIII
THE SPORT OF THE ELEMENTS

“Just what I expected!” exclaimed George, when he heard what Jack had to say.

“Will the boat upset, do you think?” bellowed Buster, as he fancied he could feel the craft already tilting dangerously, so that he “sidled” across to the other side of the crowded little cabin.

“Oh! I hardly think it’ll be as bad as that,” the commodore told him; “but while we’re about it we’d better fasten on these life preservers!”

They had discovered half a dozen cork belts under one of the lockers, and these Jack proceeded to hastily throw out. Every fellow was immediately engaged in trying to buckle one about his person, well up under the arms.

The thunder bellowed at quick intervals, so that talking could only be indulged in between these outbursts. It was almost dark inside the cabin of the rocking boat, and of course the boys were all very much excited, not knowing what was going to happen at the next minute.

“Be sure to get it up under your arms, Buster,” warned Jack, while he worked.

“Yes,” added Josh, who could be sarcastic even when confronted by such danger, “for if the old thing slips down any it’ll keep your feet out, and your head under water. Better put two more on you, Buster, because you’re a heavyweight, you know.”

Perhaps Josh was joking when he said this, but Buster took it all solemnly enough.

“Guess I will, if the rest of you don’t need ’em!” he declared. “If you’re done fixin’ yours Josh, please lend me a hand. I don’t seem able to get the fastening the right way. Oh! we nearly went over that time, didn’t we?”

“Keep still, Buster, and quit trying to balance the boat!” urged George; “your weight won’t matter a bean if she’s bound to turn turtle; and you nearly smashed my foot that time, you came down on it so hard. Talk to me about a sportive elephant, it isn’t in the same class with you when you get excited.”

“Here, I’ll try and fix you up, Buster, if only you keep quiet a spell,” Josh told him, and between the two mentors Buster resolved to bear up and show a brave front.

Jack was peeping out as if hoping to see some sign of the storm breaking. The boat meanwhile was wallowing dreadfully, showing that by degrees she must be turning sideways to the waves and the wind, the latter still blowing “great guns.”

A vivid flash came just when Jack had the tarpaulin drawn aside, and made Buster give a loud cry.

“Oh, what a scorcher!” he exclaimed; “I thought I was struck at first.”

The speedy crash that followed drowned the rest of his words.

“Any hope of its being over soon, Jack?” demanded Josh, as soon as he could make himself heard.

“Nothing doing that I could see,” came the loud reply, for what with the howl of the wind and the dash of the agitated waters against the boat it was no easy matter to make oneself heard. “All black around. You can’t see twenty feet away for the rain and the gloom.”

“Jack, do you happen to know whether there’s any rapids or falls along the Danube?” asked George presently.

“I’m not so sure about it,” replied the other; “seems to me I did hear some talk about rapids or falls or something, though it may have been about the river away up above Vienna.”

Buster at that found himself possessed with a new cause for alarm. He pictured Niagara Falls, and the powerboat plunging over the beetling brink, with four boys he knew full well fastened in its interior, helpless victims. Then as the mood changed he could see Whirlpool Rapids below the falls, through which no ordinary boat had been known to pass safely, but always emerged in splinters, after buffeting the half-hidden sharp-pointed rocks, and urged on by the frightful current.

“Listen! I thought I heard a distant roaring sound just then that might be the falls, fellows!” Buster broke out with.

Although the others all suspected that it was only the result of a lively imagination that caused him to say this, at the same time they could not help straining their hearing to ascertain whether there could be any truth in it.

“You fooled yourself that time, Buster,” announced George finally, and with a vein of positive relief in his voice; “it must have been the rain coming down like a cloud-burst, or else the wind tearing through some trees ashore.”

The action of the boat continued to cause more or less anxiety. Frequently when the wind struck savagely on the counter of the wallowing craft it would careen over so far that even Jack feared a catastrophe was impending.

Everything conspired to cause alarm – the darkness, the heavy crash of thunder, the blinding flashes of lightning that stabbed the gloom so suddenly, and the possibility of the boat turning turtle.

In the midst of this Jack was seen to be crawling out of the cover.

“What are you going to do?” shouted Josh.

“All of us have forgotten that we’ve got an anchor forward,” Jack told him; “I’m going to drop it over. It may take hold; and anyway it’s bound to keep our head into the storm by dragging!”

“Let me help you, Jack!” added Josh with his usual impulsiveness.

“You may come along, but no one else,” he was told.

Of course, that was aimed primarily at Buster, for Jack could not forget how clumsy the fat chum always proved himself to be; and the chances were that he would manage to fall overboard did he attempt to crawl along the slippery sloping deck.

Once outside and Josh realized what a difficult thing it was going to be to get forward to where the anchor might be found. The little boat rolled and tossed like a chip on the angry seas. Josh felt almost dizzy with the motion, but he shut his teeth grimly together and resolved to stick it out to the end. If Jack could stand it surely he should be able to do the same. Besides, he would sooner die almost than let George see him show the white feather.

“Get a good hold before you move each time,” called Jack in his ear; “and better grab me if you find yourself going!”

That was just like Jack’s generous nature; he thought nothing of the added risk he was assuming when he gave Josh this advice.

Josh would never be apt to forget that exciting experience as long as he lived. Except when the lightning came it was as impossible to see anything as though they were in the midst of a dark night; and even then all they could detect was what seemed to be a wall of gray fog enveloping them on every side, with the white-capped waves leaping and tossing like hungry wolves around them.

Of course, both boys were immediately drenched, but of this they thought nothing. Both had their coats off at the time, on account of the afternoon heat, which turned out to be a lucky thing for them, since their movements were apt to be less fettered and confined in consequence.

Foot by foot they made their way forward. Jack’s advice to always retain one grip until the other hand could take hold of something ahead saved Josh more than once from being thrown overboard. A little recklessness would have cost him dear in a case like that.

Finally Jack seemed to have gained his end, for he was bending down over the anchor when a flash of lightning enabled the other boy to see him again. Josh, determined to have a hand in casting the mudhook overboard, hastened to join him.

“The end of the cable is fast all right, is it, Jack?” he shouted, as together they took hold of the rusty iron anchor.

“Yes. I made sure of that before we started, and tested the cable in the bargain,” he was instantly assured.

It was a good thing some one had been so careful, for Josh himself had evidently not given the matter a single thought.

“Look out not to get a leg tangled in the rope, Josh!” shouted Jack.

“I will, all right!” the other replied, knowing that in such an event he would be dragged overboard like a flash.

So the anchor was let go.

There was no result until the whole of the cable had been paid out. Jack waited anxiously to see what followed, though he knew fairly well it would steady the drifting boat and turn the bow into the storm again.

Both of them felt the sudden jerk that announced the expected event.

“She’s turning right away, Jack!” bellowed Josh, trying to make himself heard above the heavy boom of the thunder’s growl.

There could be no doubt on that score, for already the motions of the runaway motorboat seemed to be much less violent. Jack believed his scheme was going to be a success, and it pleased him to know that his wetting would not have been taken for nothing.

They lingered no longer, but started back toward the stern. It was not quite so difficult now to creep along the slippery deck, holding on to the cabin roof, and finally reaching the open well in the stern. A head was in sight, showing that one of the anxious chums could not rest easy until he learned what the result of the venture had been.

“You must have done it, fellows!” exclaimed Buster, for it was no other than the stout boy who had thrust his head out like a tortoise, “because she rides so much easier now. I knew Jack’d manage it if anybody could.”

Drenched as they were, the two boys had to drop down under the tarpaulin. After all, that was a minor matter, since by their bold action they had warded off what might have turned out to be a grave disaster.

“Let her blow and thunder all she wants to now,” said Josh triumphantly; “we’ve got the anchor trailing from the bow, and that’s going to keep her nose in the wind. I’ve read how a vessel nearly going down in a hurricane has been saved by making a storm anchor out of hatches, or anything else that will float, and towing the same behind to keep the ship steady. That’s what we did, you see.”

Josh was more than glad now he had insisted on accompanying the commodore in attempting to carry out his hazardous undertaking. It would give him an opportunity to swell with importance whenever the deed was mentioned, and to use the magical word “we” in speaking of the adventure. What boy is there who does not like to feel that he personally partook of the danger when brave things were undertaken and accomplished?

After that they settled down to wait. The storm must surely come to an end before a great while, and as they were now moving at less than one-half the mad pace they had been going before that drag had been instituted, it seemed perfectly safe even to Buster.

“All I hope for now is that we don’t run afoul of some half-sunken rock, or it may be a snag!” Josh was heard to say.

“We do know there are snags floating along, because you remember I struck one only yesterday,” ventured Buster, referring, of course, to the log which, by catching his trailing fish hook, had dragged him overboard.

“Not much danger of that,” Jack assured them; “they keep a pretty clear channel over here, it seems, even if we haven’t met steamboats on the river like you would on the Mississippi. Given another ten minutes or so and I think we’ll see the break in the storm we expect. It can hardly last much longer now.”

“Must have done some damage ashore, too, boys?” suggested George.

“So long as it hasn’t killed off all the chickens, so we can’t get any more eggs, that doesn’t really concern us, I s’pose,” said Buster, not meaning to be unfeeling in the least, but just then that seemed to be in the nature of a calamity in his mind.

Slowly the time passed, but the boys were soon delighted to discover that there was actually a slackening up of the elements that had combined to make such a furious discord. The thunder became less boisterous, the wind lulled perceptibly, and even the waves had lost much of their force.

Jack, taking an observation, made an important discovery, and followed it with an announcement that gave his comrades considerable pleasure.

“There’s a break in the storm clouds over there in the west, boys, and I guess we’ve got to the end of this trouble!”

“With no damage done except a wetting for two of us,” added Josh, trying to act as though that counted for next to nothing, considering the benefits that had probably sprung from the work of Jack and himself.

“Why, it seems to me the rain has let up, too, Jack!” exclaimed Buster, forcing his head through the opening in the tarpaulin cover of the well.

“In a few minutes more we can get rid of this old thing and breathe free once more,” Jack told him.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll be mighty glad,” said Buster, “because I’m nearly stewed as it is, with the heat below here; and that breeze feels mighty good to me. It won’t be near as warm after this storm, that’s sure.”

“Like as not, Buster,” advised Josh, shivering a little because of his wet condition, “we’ll all be frozen stiff before an hour goes by. Queer things happen over in this Danube country, I’m told.”

“Rats! You can’t scare me, Josh,” Buster immediately informed him; “course, since you’re all wet through and through you might freeze, but not a healthy specimen like me. This time we’ll have to make a fire for you other fellows, if we can find enough dry wood to burn, that is.”

Jack’s prediction was soon fulfilled. The break in the storm clouds grew rapidly in magnitude until quite a large sized patch of blue sky became visible. They soon had the tarpaulin dragged on top of the cabin roof to dry out; and when the sun appeared the pair who had been drenched took positive delight in sprawling there and letting the warm rays start drying their garments on them.

“Well, seems like we got through that scrape O. K.,” ventured Buster; “but we’re not yet out of the woods by a big lot. We’ve got a broken engine on our hands, and no means of fixing the same, even if we knew how to do it. What’s to be done now, Commodore Jack?”

Somehow the others always thought to give Jack his full title when relying on him to get them out of a scrape. But Jack let this significant fact pass, for he knew these three chums from the ground up, and could not hold a single thing against any one of them. And, as usual, he had a remedy ready for every disease.