Kitabı oku: «Motor Boat Boys on the Great Lakes; or, Exploring the Mystic Isle of Mackinac», sayfa 7

CHAPTER XV
HELPING AN ENEMY

Jack kept his wits about him.

He had snatched up something as he ran to the very point where he might best be seen through the flying spray. It was the conch shell which, with its apex sawed off, made a horn or trumpet that could be heard a mile away, under even the most discouraging conditions.

Reaching the point for which he had been aiming Jack immediately started sending a hoarse blast out over that tumultuous sea. The others waved their hats, and made suggestive motions toward the small inlet, to show that a boat could enter the cove where the stream of water emptied into the Big Lake.

“They see us!” shrilled Nick, dancing up and down in his excitement; for in this moment all past animosity was forgotten, because human lives seemed in jeopardy – the lives of those who had gone to school, and played baseball with them, in the days that were past.

“Yes, they’re waving their hands!” declared Herb.

“And now they put about!” George added. “Careful there, Clarence! You nearly keeled over then on your beam ends. That was a narrow squeak! I’d hate to have the poor old Flash meet such a fate, not to speak of her crew.”

“It’s all right now, fellows!” cried Jack. “They’re heading for the inlet. Run over, and be ready to give any help needed. In times like this let’s forget that Clarence and Joe have always been up against us. We’re all Americans now; and we must stick together!”

“Bully talk!” said Josh, hastening after George and Jack, leaving Nick to amble along in the rear.

Clarence knew how to handle his boat with considerable skill; and once he drew close in, he was able to see how the ground lay. Those on shore also directed him as best they could; and the net result was that the Flash finally shot around the point, arriving in the little sheltered bay that a kind nature seemed to have provided for just such emergencies.

As Jack had more than once said, could they but look back hundreds of years, no doubt they would find that it had sheltered fleets of Indian canoes many a time, when the storm king rode the waves of the Great Lake.

When the Flash had been moored safely, her crew came ashore. Joe Brinker was looking a bit sullen, as though he did not much fancy the idea of accepting aid from these fellows, whom he had always looked upon as enemies. But Clarence walked straight up to Jack, holding out his hand.

“I say it’s mighty decent of you, Stormways, to throw us a line this way,” he declared, with considerable feeling. “I admit I was badly rattled, and thought we were in for a wreck. Neither of us glimpsed this opening here, and we’d sure have swept by, if you hadn’t signalled. I’m sorry now I ever – ”

“Let by-gones be forgotten while we’re here, Clarence,” spoke up Jack. “See, the storm is whooping things up out there now, and it’s just as well you’re not on the lake.”

Clarence did look, and shuddered at what he saw; for it was not a pleasant spectacle, with the lightning flashes, and the heaving billows, seen through the flying spray that even reached them by the tents.

“Get busy, fellows!” George called. “Carry everything inside. Yes, take that pan of fish, and the coffee, Nick. I guess our callers are hungry, and will be glad of a bite. Quick now, for here she comes with a rush!”

Hardly had they found shelter, and the flaps of the tents been secured, when down the rain pelted, to the accompaniment of the most tremendous thunder crashes any of them had ever heard; while the fierce wind tried its best to tear the canvas shelters from over their heads.

But the work had been well done, and the tents stood, though wobbling more or less under the fierce onset of the wind.

Clarence and Joe had been taken in with Jack and George, while the other four occupied the second tent. Seated on the ground, the two newcomers proceeded to break their fast, and drink what remained of the coffee.

“Guess you wonder what kept us back so long?” remarked Clarence, after they had finished the meal, and while a little lull came in the tempest without.

Jack and George looked at each other and smiled.

“We might give a good think,” remarked the latter; “seeing that I pushed the nose of my Wireless boat so hard into Mud Lake that it took an hour and more for the other two to pull me off.”

“Huh! that’s where you were lucky, then, George,” continued the other. “We didn’t have any chums to do the pulling act; and so we just had to flounder there for hours and hours. I reckon we must have spent the best part of two days sticking in the mud. Happened that nothing came along but some big steamers; and they wouldn’t stop to help a poor little motor boat off.”

“Well, how did you get away finally?” asked Jack, interested.

“Worked our way out of it by ourselves; and we’re proud to tell it,” Clarence proceeded. “I managed to climb up into a tree that hung over the boat, and threw down branches until we made a mattress that would bear our weight. Then we got out a block and tackle we carried, and fixed it in a way to get a strong pull. I kept the engine working for all she would go, while Joe bent to the tackle; and inch by inch we finally yanked the Flash out of her mud berth.”

“Good for you!” remarked George, with real emphasis. “Looking back, there’s always some satisfaction in remembering how you managed to get out of a bad hole by means of your own wits.”

“All the same, we wished many times we had some chums handy, who would give us a pull,” said Joe, whom the meal and hot coffee had put in a better humor.

All night long the storm raged on the lake. Any vessel that was so unlucky as to be caught out in it was to be pitied, or at least those aboard were. Morning saw its abatement; but the seas were beating wildly against the rock bound north shore and it was sheer folly for any one to dream of putting out while such a condition of affairs lasted.

So they concluded to make a day of it. Clarence for the first time in his life began to realize what fine fellows these motor boat chums really were; and how they stood ready to forget all the trouble that he and his crony had been only too willing to shower upon them in the past.

They talked of dozens of things, some of which were connected with their life in school at home, and others that bore upon the recent series of happenings on the St. Lawrence river.

“Looks like we wouldn’t have any more bother with Clarence after this,” said Josh to Herb, as they watched Jack and the other two doing something at the camp fire that afternoon, just as though the best of friends.

“I hope we won’t,” replied the other; “but you never can be sure of Clarence. He’s tricky; and besides, impulsive. Just now he means to drop all enmity toward us; because we’ve fed him, and treated him white. But wait till something rubs him the other way. That’s the time to see if the thing is more than skin deep.”

During the midst of their conversation George purposely mentioned the name of Jonathan Fosdick.

“What; do you know the old apple grower, too?” demanded Clarence, looking surprised.

Of course Jack told how they had found the old man sick in his stable; and helped him to his house.

“And he told us all about his runaway boy, Andy, too; and how word came he was working in a fishing camp up along this shore,” George went on.

“Yes, we promised that if we ran across the fellow we’d tell him he was wanted at home the worst kind,” Clarence remarked.

“And he was that thankful he just loaded us down with stuff – eggs, butter, and such. Couldn’t do enough for us,” Joe added, grinning at the recollection.

“History repeated itself then, for we promised the same thing,” laughed Jack.

“And he just wouldn’t take a cent in payment for the things we got,” remarked George. “But see here, Clarence, it looks like we’re in for another race between the Flash and the Wireless, to see which can get to the mouth of the Agawa first; for I hear there’s a big fish camp there, run by a man at the Soo, where they take tons and tons of white fish, the trout not being for sale.”

“I guess I get the notion that’s struck you, George; and let me say right here, I still believe the Flash to be the better boat,” Clarence went on, stubbornly.

“Shall we try it out then, tomorrow, when we leave here; in a friendly way of course, I mean?” George asked, eagerly.

“Take him up, Clarry!” said Joe.

“All right then, we’ll call it a go,” declared the other. “Only I wish we had something worth making a run for, a prize of some sort.”

“It will give me some pleasure to be the one to tell Andy Fosdick that he’s wanted bad at home,” George observed.

“Then we’ll call it a go; and this time you’d better look out for yourself, because the Flash has had a knot an hour added to her speed since we raced last. And besides, I didn’t have any heart in that trial of speed, you know. That smuggler was forcing me to run my boat, to get him out of a pickle; and for me to win only meant that my boat would be lost to me. I was really glad to play him a trick in the end, and throw the race.”

Jack and George may have had their own opinions with regard to the truth of the matter; but they knew enough to keep their tongues still. While the dove of peace hovered over the camp, it would be folly to stir these fellows up again.

Overhead the sun shone in a clear sky. Only for those waves the motor boat club could have easily continued on their cruise. But with the waning of the afternoon the seas began to sensibly decline.

“I prophesy a good day tomorrow for our race, George,” Clarence remarked, as, in company with the others he sat by the fire, enjoying a feast that Josh and his assistants, Nick and Jimmie, had prepared for the crowd.

Jack and George were both of the same opinion since all the well known signs seemed to point that way. They sat up until a reasonable hour, chatting and singing; and Clarence realized as never before what a fine thing he and Joe were missing in never having found a chance to join this merry group before.

The night was a peaceful one. At early dawn the camp was astir, for much had to be done ere they might put out on the calm lake.

“Looks like a big mirror; didn’t I tell you that wind had blown itself out?” remarked Clarence, upon casting his first glance beyond the point.

At eight they were all ready to leave the snug harbor that had opened so opportunely for the storm threatened crew of the Flash.

Clarence had charts also, and doubtless studied them eagerly when he had an opportunity to go aboard his boat again. For although this was only a friendly race, he always threw himself into whatever he did with a vim, heart and soul, that made defeat all the more bitter, should it come.

Of course Jack, deep down in his heart, knew full well that this was only a temporary truce in the warfare that had always existed between himself and Clarence. Once away from their society the other would soon drift back to his old way of thinking and acting. But Jack decided that not because of any unfriendly act on the part of himself or chums should these two find cause for again digging up the buried hatchet.

Leaving the cove, the four boats were soon moving along the glassy surface of the calm lake, headed almost due west. Somewhere, many miles away, lay the first goal, the mouth of the Agawa, which was to mark the expiration of the race.

“Ready, both of you?” demanded Jack, as the two rival speed boats ranged alongside the Tramp, one on either quarter.

“Ready here!” answered Clarence, briskly.

“Same here, Jack!” called George, hovering over his engine, which was running at about its next to slowest notch.

“Then go!” shouted the starter; and instantly both craft shot forward like arrows, while the rattle of their exhausts sounded as if a battle were in progress.

CHAPTER XVI
“WIRELESS DAY”

“Hurrah!” shouted Josh, wildly excited, and glad for once to be on the narrow speed boat.

“May the best one win!” called Jack, as he watched the rivals drawing ahead of the two slower boats.

“That means us!” laughed Bully Joe.

“Just wait and see!” answered Josh; between whom and Joe there had always been more or less bad blood.

Herb had given his staunch engine all it could stand; and as the Tramp stood by him, they were soon left far in the lurch.

“Talk to me about speed,” observed Herb, as Jack turned his face that way, “strikes me the Wireless has her work cut out for today, to beat Clarence.”

“You heard what he said about the improvement made when at the machinist’s. It was a knot an hour increase, I believe,” Jack remarked, casting a look down at the throbbing motor of the Tramp.

“That’s right,” Herb spoke up. “But you know we did some tinkering to George’s engine, and he has always said that it ran better afterwards. Anyhow, it looks like a pretty race.”

“I think so with you, Herb,” Jack admitted. “Judging from here, they’re running neck and neck now.”

“Yes,” continued the other, “but don’t forget that tricky Clarence is always up to something. Two to one he’s got a bit more speed held in reserve.”

“Well, George knows him like a book,” laughed Jack. “And make up your mind he’ll keep something held back himself. Don’t you remember he did before? Possibly Clarence may be the one to run up against a surprise after a while.”

As the racers drew farther and farther away, those in the other boats began to think of other things. None of them had half the interest in the outcome of the rivalry as did George. With him there were many old accounts to square; and he meant to make a good job of it, if he had his way about the matter.

For some miles the two speedy motor boats kept along, neither appearing to gain half a length on the other. If one seemed to be going ahead, the skipper immediately busied himself stopping the advantage. It was as if both were holding themselves in for the home stretch.

Josh was on needles and pins all this while. He paid little attention to what lay in the rear. Part of his time was taken up in scanning the watery waste ahead, through the powerful marine glasses. And when not thus employed he sat there, quivering with suspense, wondering whether there would come a sudden stoppage of the engine, which might spring from one of its eccentric tantrums.

But, strange to say, the motor seemed to be doing its best today, as if bent on meriting all the good things its builders had said in their catalogue.

“I see it!” suddenly hoarsely whispered Josh, in a mysterious way, as though he did not wish those in the other craft to overhear him.

“You mean the little bay at the mouth of the river?” queried George, setting his teeth hard together; for he knew that the crisis so long awaited was at hand.

“Sure, look for yourself, George,” handing him the glasses.

“Yes, I believe you’re right,” returned the skipper of the Wireless, as he once more turned his attention to his engine. “Now, get in the middle of the boat, Josh, and don’t move any more than you can help.”

“You’re going to open up, then?” asked the tall, ungainly lad, feverishly.

“I am. Are you ready?” George went on.

“My hair is parted exactly in the middle, I believe,” chuckled Josh. “You know Buster used to say that was one thing you made him do when he was on board here. Let her go, George! Get the jump on him; it may count in the end!”

A shout from Bully Joe was the first knowledge Clarence had that his rival had taken the bit in his teeth, and shot ahead. Instantly the speed of the Flash was increased; and the two powerful engines began to throb like little giants; while the sound of the exhausts, from which the mufflers had been entirely removed, was like the tattoo of a couple of snare drums calling the long roll.

Josh steadied himself as best he could; though when the boat was rushing through the water at this frightful speed it did not seem so cranky as when at rest.

“George, we’re gaining on him!” he said, in a husky voice that trembled with the excitement under which Josh labored.

“I see we are; and still I could get a bit more out of old Wireless if hard pushed. Don’t worry, Josh; we’re bound to show Clarence up for a bluffer this time, sure.”

“If only something don’t happen!” gasped the anxious Josh, with an intake of breath that was like a big sigh.

“Make your mind easy on that score,” said George, positively. “Nothing is going to break down. She’s running as smooth as silk, and never missing a stroke. Oh! ain’t this great, though? I’ve looked forward to this ever so long. Wouldn’t I like to be close enough right now to see the look on Clarence’s face.”

“It’s as long as a foot rule, I warrant you!” chuckled Josh. “Don’t I know them two fellows though? They take a beat hard. Ten to one that if you are ahead when we come to the bay, they’ll go on past, and never enter at all.”

“Well, now, that wouldn’t surprise me one little bit,” remarked George.

Slowly but surely was the Flash falling behind, or rather the other boat forging ahead. Doubtless Clarence must be trying every device known to ambitious racing skippers in order to just coax a little more speed from his engine; but it was now keyed up to top-notch, and utterly incapable of doing a particle better.

Already Clarence must know that he was badly beaten, unless fortune stepped in to bring about an accident to the Wireless.

“That’s what he’s playing for now,” said George, when his companion suggested this very thing. “But I reckon Clarence will find himself barking up the wrong tree. This race has just got to be mine. You hear me warble, Josh?”

It was not often George spouted slang; but the excitement had seized upon him to such an extent now, that he hardly did know what he was saying.

Minutes crept along.

Now the Flash was a stone’s throw in the rear, and losing all the while.

“Careful about the turn, George,” cautioned Josh, as they came near where the bay opened up. “We don’t want to lose this thing at the last stretch. Now you’re safe to turn in. Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! siss! boom! crash! we win!”

The Wireless safely made the turn, and thus Josh announced her victory.

“What did I tell you,” Josh went on. “Look at ’em, George! They’re spinning on right past, and don’t mean to come in at all. Clarence won’t even look this way, but keeps staring ahead. Talk to me about taking a beat to heart, there never was a fellow as bad as Macklin, in baseball, hockey or any sport. Well, good-bye to you, fellows! Come again when you can’t stay so long. It’s Wireless day, you know!”

There was no answer to the shout with which Josh wound up his remarks. He saw Bully Joe wave his hand in a derisive way, and then the Flash passed by at full speed, as though the race were still on.

There was a big camp on the shore, and several boats drawn up on the beach. Many signs told that this was one of the favorite places along the north shore for the white fish men to gather. Doubtless innumerable barrels of this delicate inhabitant of the Great Lakes were shipped from this coast during each season; with the supply still undiminished.

It had been agreed upon that George was not to go ashore until the rest of the little motor boat fleet arrived. This was not for half an hour or so, since the Comfort was not capable of doing better than ten miles an hour, and the more speedy Tramp had to accommodate her pace to that of the steady boat.

Nick and the rest gave the victor a good cheer as they turned the point, and entered the bay at the mouth of the famous trout river.

Then the three craft made for the beach, off which they anchored, to go ashore in the smaller boats.

There were some shanties and tents in sight, with a number of rough looking men; who however seemed glad to welcome the boys. The smell of fish was everywhere, as was natural.

“Do you happen to have a young fellow here in this camp by the name of Andy Fosdick?” Jack asked a man who seemed to be the boss.

“Yes, but just now he’s out at work. There’s a boat coming in and p’raps Andy may be one of the crew,” the other replied.

They waited until the boat landed, and those who were in it jumped out. Jack could use his judgment, and he immediately selected a sturdy looking young chap, with a skin the color of an Indian’s, as the one they sought.

“Come along, fellows,” he said to his chums; “and we’ll find out.”

He made straight for the young man; who, seeing the procession approaching, and all eyes glued eagerly on him, stood there looking curious, and a bit apprehensive, Jack thought.

“Are you Andrew Fosdick?” Jack asked, as they reached the spot where the other stood, one hand resting on the edge of the boat, from which his comrades were already shoveling their catch of fish.

“That’s my name, though I generally answer to plain Andy,” replied the fisherman wondering doubtless what all this meant, and why these boys should want to see him.

“Bully!” exclaimed Nick. “Found him the first shot! We’re sure in great luck on this cruise, fellows!”

“Tell him what you want with him, Jack,” urged Herb, who saw the other was being consumed with anxiety.

“We have come straight from your father, Andy,” said Jack, softly. “He wants you to come home to him.”

Then they saw a hard look pass over the dark face of Andy Fosdick.

“It ain’t no use, boys,” he said, bitterly. “He run me off long ago, and I don’t go back there again. I’m gettin’ to forget my name even is Fosdick, and that settles it.”