CHAPTER XIII

NODDY NIXON TURNS UP

Would those on the steamer hear it? Would they change the course in time? Could they, at the rate the ship was going?

These were questions which surged through the minds of those on the _Dartaway_. How anxiously they waited to see how they would be answered!

“If she hits us jump for your lives!” cried Sam, climbing through the awning curtains out on the gunwale. “It’s the only chance we’ve got!”

But there was some excitement on the steamer. Lights flashed out on the bow. Then a big glaring beam from a search lantern cut through the gloom. There were confused shouts, a jingle of bells. Evidently the cannon had been heard.

“She’s veering off! She’s veering off!” yelled the sailor. “Look out for the wash as she passes us!”

Indeed, the great steamer could be seen to be changing her course. The immense bow seemed to glide away from the motor boat. As the boys held their breaths the vessel loomed up almost in front of them, but safely away. They had just escaped being run down.

With inquiring toots from her big whistles the steamer surged past the _Dartaway_. As she glided by the boys could see, leaning over the rail, a group of men. Doubtless they wondered what venturesome mariners these were, out so far at sea in a little craft.

“Hold hard!” cried Sam.

He spoke only just in time, for the _Dartaway_ began to rock violently from the wash of the steamer’s propellors. The boys clung to the awning stanchions or they might have been flung overboard.

Then, as the steamer, in her changed course, showed her stern lights to those on the motor boat, there came a feeling of thanksgiving at their providential escape from almost certain death.

“Lucky you had that cannon!” commented Sam. “It was better than a horn or whistle.”

For a few minutes the boys could not reply, they were so unnerved. But the old sailor seemed to take it as a matter of course.

“It isn’t the first time I’ve been nearly cut in two by a steamer,” he said. “That often happens on the fishing banks.”

Jerry made his way back to the cockpit and sat down on a bunk. He was trembling from the excitement.

“Brace up!” spoke Sam, noticing the boy’s condition. “Have another try at the engine. See if the pipe is stopped up.”

That put Jerry’s mind on another subject, and relieved him of the strain he was under. He waited until the commotion of the water had somewhat subsided, and then went forward again to the gasolene tank.

Baring his arm to the shoulder, and lying flat out on the bow, in order to get to the bottom of the receptacle, he felt around in it. For a few moments there was an anxious wait. Then he cried:

“I’ve got it!”

He pulled out a bunch of cotton waste, used to clean the engine with. How it got in the tank was a mystery, but it had effectually stopped the flow of gasolene.

“Now for another try!” exclaimed Bob. “I’ll bet the _Dartaway_ will prove equal to her name.”

Anxiously the boys went back to the engine. The fly wheel was spun around. This time there was an answering chug-chug, and, a moment later the motor was humming away in a fashion that thrilled the hearts of all.

“We’re off!” shouted Bob.

“Wait until I get my tub!” exclaimed Sam. “It’s all I’ve got left of my outfit.”

He scrambled aft, and hauled aboard the improvised drag. Then Jerry threw in the clutch and the _Dartaway_ shot ahead.

“Which way shall I steer?” asked Jerry, who had gone to the wheel.

“Well, we’re as bad off as ever in that regard,” the sailor replied. “Wait a minute though. That steamer was cutting right across our bows. We ought to keep straight on I guess, to fetch up on the coast, as the vessel was going down along it. I think I know where we are.”

For a few minutes the boat went along, riding more evenly, now that it had better headway. Suddenly there flashed on it a glaring light. It was steady for a second, and then turned red. It flashed the ruby glow twice, and then disappeared.

“What was that?” cried Bob.

“The lighthouse!” exclaimed Ned.

“Sure enough,” came from Sam. “It’s all right. I know where I am now. Better let me take the wheel.”

With the sureness of one who knows his way, even in the darkest night, the old sailor turned the craft into the proper channel. Forward it went, like a frightened hare scudding back to the shelter of the burrow.

“Rocky Point Light;--the South Light,” murmured Salt Water Sam. “I’m right at home now. We must have been behind the upper headland or we’d seen it before. It’s all right. We’re on our way back.”

So it proved. Through the darkness, illuminated only by the red and green side lamps, the _Dartaway_ sped, steered by a sure hand. On and on she went toward the harbor.

The boys did not learn until afterward that they had been towed nearly twenty miles by the whale. Had the weather not remained calm they would have been in dire peril, but fortune favored them, even in the matter of escaping from the steamer. Had they been taken straight out to sea they would have had more trouble, but the big monster, in his blind rage, had taken a diagonal course up the coast.

“My, but I am sleepy,” remarked Jerry, stretching himself.

“So am I,” added Ned.

“You boys better take a nap,” Sam said. “I’ll call you about eight bells and take forty winks myself. We’ll get in about daylight.” And then he began to sing:

“Oh it’s Ho! for a sailor’s life for me; When stormy winds do blow! And waves run high; Up to the sky; With mermaids down below!”

“You’re quite a poet,” said Jerry.

“I didn’t make that up,” replied the sailor. “It was a feller with two eyes. I was mate and he was second mate on the _Tumbling Turtle_.”

The boys felt tired enough to take Sam’s advice. They covered up with blankets on the bunks in the little cabin, and, in spite of the excitement of the day and night, dozed off.

It was daylight when Sam awoke them, and they were just entering the harbor of Harmon Beach.

“I thought you were going to call us at eight bells,” said Bob.

“Four o’clock in the morning’s no time for boys to be getting up,” said Sam. “I hated to disturb you. I’m used to staying up.”

“I must hurry up and let mother know we’re all right,” said Jerry as the boat swung up to the dock. “She’ll be worried.”

The boys found a crowd awaiting their return, though it was but seven o’clock. The rumor of their disappearance in the hunt for the whale had spread all through the summer colony.

“Salt Water Sam was along,” the sailor remarked proudly to some of the questioners. “We knew what we were about.” He did not mention how near they had come to being run down.

“Did you get the whale?” asked a man of the sailor, as the boys hurried ashore and ran to the Hopkins cottage.

“We did and we didn’t,” replied the old salt.

“Well, you killed him, anyway.”

“What’s that?”

“He came ashore, dead, down the beach, a little while ago.”

“Are you joking?”

“Not a bit of it. Word to that effect just came.”

“Whoop!” yelled Sam. “I’ll get my old harpoon back. I must tell the boys. So I haven’t forgot how to throw the iron! Whoop! Shiver my timbers! I’ve killed my last whale! Hold me down, somebody!”

Salt Water Sam was dancing about in great excitement.

“Where’s the whale?” he inquired.

“About three miles south, on the beach.”

“I’m going right down and see it. I must get the boys. This’ll be great news for them.”

Sam made the boat fast to the dock and hurried to the cottage where the chums had gone. They had just succeeded in telling Mrs. Hopkins all about their trip. She had been somewhat worried, but she felt that Jerry and his companions could take care of themselves. They had been away too many nights before, and had gone through too many adventures, for her to do much worrying, unless she had good cause.

“Good news, boys!” cried Sam, coming in unannounced.

“What is it?”

“We’ve got our whale! Come on!” He rapidly explained.

Mrs. Hopkins wanted them to at least stay for breakfast, but they would not hear of it.

“I’m going to lay claim to the creature,” the sailor exclaimed. “It has my harpoon in it. That proves property. Can’t lose any time.”

The boys hurried back to the dock and got into the boat, and started down the coast. As they neared a little cove, on which was located another summer colony, they could see a big crowd collected.

“That’s where it is,” Sam remarked. “Put in there.”

When they landed they saw a big shapeless body stranded on the beach. It resembled an immense log of black wood.

“There’s my whale!” cried Sam, proudly.

The creature looked vastly different from the monster that had towed the boys in their boat out to sea. They went closer to the crowd, which surrounded the bulk of flesh and bone. As they made their way through the fringe of people they heard some one saying:

“Now you’ve all got to get away. This is my whale. I discovered it. I’m going to put a tent over it and charge twenty-five cents admission. Stand back, I say!”

Something about the tones struck the boys as being familiar. They went closer.

“Here, no more can come here!” exclaimed a youth, who began shoving the motor boys back. “This is my whale.”

There, confronting our three heroes, was Noddy Nixon.