CHAPTER VII

“THERE SHE BLOWS”

“What’s the matter?” cried Jerry.

“Don’t know,” replied Bob. “Something’s broken.”

“It’s the batteries or magneto,” Ned exclaimed. “There’s no spark!”

“Quick! Throw on the new set of batteries I put in,” called Jerry. “Lively now! Maybe she’ll explode without cranking!”

Bob shoved over the switch that Jerry had provided for just such an emergency. There was a click, a little spurt of green fire as the two pieces of copper came together, and, with a sound like a gun, the engine resumed its revolutions. A charge in one of the cylinders had exploded, and had turned the fly wheel over, just in time to render it unnecessary to crank up.

“Hurrah! She’s off!” cried Ned.

With a quick motion Jerry threw the engine back on first speed, as he wanted to give it a chance to work up before he called on it for a harder effort.

But the accident was likely to prove dear to the _Dartaway_. One of the boats in the rear had almost caught up to her, and the _Snail_ was a good five lengths ahead.

“We’ve got to strain everything now,” said Jerry grimly. “It’s a small chance but we’ll take it.”

Quickly he speeded up the engine, giving the cylinders all the gasolene they would take, and he also began to advance the spark.

As soon as he could he threw in the third speed gear. The _Dartaway_ responded nobly, and fairly shot through the water. The _Snail’s_ lead was cut down by one length.

One advantage the accident gave was the bringing into use of fresh batteries. This gave a better and hotter spark, and rendered the explosions more powerful. Jerry saw this, and his heart rejoiced.

Notch by notch he shoved the two levers around and the boat increased her speed. Those in the _Snail_ looked back apprehensively.

“We’ll catch you yet,” Jerry murmured. “How’s she running, Ned?”

“Couldn’t be better.”

“Don’t spare the oil, and keep low down. We’re right against the wind now, and everything counts.”

Slowly but surely the _Dartaway_ was overhauling the _Snail_. Inch by inch she crept up. Now the leading boat was but two lengths ahead. But the last stake was close at hand. Five minutes more and the race would be over. There was a big lead to cut down in a short time.

Jerry shut his teeth tightly. It was if he, himself, was running the race, and was determined to win or die. He gave one look towards the stake-boat and another at _Snail_, and then shoved the sparking lever over as far as he dared, at the same time giving the cylinders the utmost gasolene they could take without being choked and floated.

It was the last effort, the utter limit to which the _Dartaway_ could be pushed.

The craft responded, as if knowing what was required of her. She seemed to rise like a bird under the increased impulse, and to fairly skim over the water. She darted ahead, and, with hearts that beat high with hope, the boys saw her creep past the stern of the _Snail_, until the bows of the two boats were once more even.

The stake was three hundred feet ahead. The _Dartaway_ must do an inch or two better if she was to win. Those aboard the _Snail_ were doing their utmost to get another revolution or two from their engine.

Jerry and his companions almost held their breaths. They peered over the side to see what their rivals were doing. They saw them frantically oiling the levers and cams.

“Only an inch! Only an inch!” Jerry whispered under his breath. “Only an inch and we can beat ’em!”

Then, whether it was that the _Dartaway_ heard the cry and responded, or whether the _Snail’s_ engine went back on the boat, no one could tell, but the _Dartaway_ shot ahead, several inches. There was an exultant cheer from the three boys. There was a corresponding groan from those on the _Snail_. There was a great shout from the spectators.

An instant later the _Dartaway_ crossed the line a winner.

What a shrill tooting of whistles there was! What a chorus of shouts and yells! What a sound of gasolene engines exploding on all sides to add to the din.

_Bang!_ it was a cannon on the _Three Bells_, fired in honor of the victor.

_Bang!_ spoke the _Dartaway’s_ ordnance in reply.

Then there were more cheers and yells. Jerry, in answer to a signal, slowed down his craft and put it over to the _Three Bells_, where the judges were. The _Snail_ followed.

“A good race and well managed,” said Captain Jenkinson. “I thought you boys were out of it when your engine stopped. How did you manage it?”

Jerry told him of the extra batteries, and was congratulated for his forethought.

“You certainly have a fine boat,” the captain of the _Snail_ said, as he shook hands with Jerry and his chums. “You beat us fairly and squarely.”

“Yes, and here’s your reward,” said Captain Jenkinson, as he handed Jerry a beautiful silver cup. “May it be an incentive to you and your comrades to win many more races.”

“Speech! Speech!” cried several. The judges’ boat was surrounded by a score of craft, which hemmed in the _Dartaway_ and the _Snail_.

“I can’t make a speech,” Jerry stammered. “But I want to thank you all for allowing us to take part in this race, and if any one wants to have another try for the cup, why he can, that’s all.”

“Hurrah!” yelled the crowd.

“I may take you up on that offer,” said Captain Jones, owner of the _Snail_. “I believe I can beat you yet.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Jerry answered.

The boys were hardly able to realize their good luck. They had snatched the race from defeat, and the skillful way in which they had managed their boat brought them much praise.

There were several other aquatic events that afternoon. It was a sort of opening of the summer season at Harmon Beach, which was quite a resort for those who loved the sea. The boys did not stay long, however, as Jerry was anxious to show his mother the cup he and his chums had won.

As the boys were fastening their boat to the dock, they heard a noise in the shelter house. At first they thought it might be Mrs. Hopkins, who had come down to meet them. But they heard a hoarse voice singing:

“Oh it’s blow, blow, blow! And to Davy’s locker we’ll go. For a stormy night Is my delight; And I love the hail and snow!”

An instant later a short, stout man, with one eye, a grizzled beard, rather ragged clothes, the trousers of which he kept hitching up, while he rolled his lone optic around in a strange fashion, came out on the dock from the boathouse.

“What ho! my hearties!” he cried. “Avast, messmates!”

“Who are you?” asked Jerry.

“Salt Water Sam. A relic of the deep seas.”

“Glad to see you,” remarked Bob. The lads took the old man for a harmless character, and paid little attention to him. For a while Salt Water Sam regarded the boys with his one eye, and then, singing his verse once more, he walked off with a rolling gait.

“Old sailor,” said Ned. “I’d like to know him.”

“You’ll probably have a chance. He seems to make himself at home,” remarked Jerry.

For several days after this the boys only made short trips about the cove in their boat. They took Mrs. Hopkins out, and she enjoyed the little cruises very much. Jerry wanted to take her out on the ocean but she would not hear of it. She said she was afraid the boat would swamp.

“You’d ought to have been with us the other night,” said Jerry. “I guess that would have scared you.”

“Don’t you ever take such risks again,” cautioned Mrs. Hopkins, and the boys promised they would not. But boys are very forgetful.

The _Dartaway_ was now fully equipped “from anchors to apricots,” as Bob said. He had superintended putting aboard a quantity of provisions including the canned fruit which, he said, could be used in case of emergency.

One afternoon, as the boys were cruising near shore, they saw a fisherman’s boat come in. It was the kind of craft with a small engine, called a “kicker,” in it, to be used in case of calm.

As it tied up alongside of a small public dock, the boys could see, by the manner of the men, that something had happened. They were much excited.

“What’s the matter?” they heard several ask.

“There’s a whale off shore,” replied the captain. “We found our nets all ripped up, and, as we were wondering what did it, we saw a big whale spout, close by.”

“What’s that? A whale?” cried a hoarse voice, and the boys saw Salt Water Sam come rolling down to the dock. “A whale! Shiver my timbers, there she blows!” he cried, seeming to get excited at the mention of the name. “Let me get at him. Many a one I’ve harpooned!”