CHAPTER XVII

A DERELICT OF THE SKIES

“What a wonderful thing wireless is!” remarked Sam, as the two young operators stood gazing from the upper deck where their “coop” was perched.

“Yes, if that flying-boat hadn’t carried even the small, weak equipment she has, it would have been all off with them,” agreed Jack; “that is, if they are not at the bottom now.”

“Oh, I hope not!” cried Sam.

“Same here. But still, the sudden way that message cut off looked odd.”

The boys said little more, but kept their attention concentrated, waiting for the first sharp, quick cry that would announce that the derelict of the skies had been sighted. It was nerve-racking, the waiting for that shout.

It seemed that hours had passed, when suddenly there came a sharp bark from the bows. A keen-eyed salt stationed there had seen something even before the officers on the bridge had sighted it through their binoculars.

“What is it, my man?” hailed Captain McDonald through a speaking trumpet.

“Can’t just make out, sir. It might be a big whale, but it looks to me like a boat.”

The officers scrutinized the object pointed out through their glasses. It lay some miles from the ship, spread out darkly on the blue, gently-heaving sea.

“Can you see any human beings on board it?” demanded Captain McDonald anxiously of Mr. Metcalf.

“No, sir, I—yes, I do, too. One man. He is standing up, waving.”

“Give me the glasses, Metcalf.”

The captain took the binoculars.

“Yes, you’re right; there’s a man on board. But how long he will keep afloat, I don’t know. Lucky the sea is calm.”

“You may well say that, sir. In my opinion, whatever he is standing on is due to sink before long.”

“My opinion, too. But hullo, what is that coming up over the horizon there?”

“That smoke, sir? That must be the _City of Mexico_.”

“Yes, you’re right, it is. I can see her masts now. She’s coming up fast.”

“We don’t want to let her beat us, sir.”

“No, indeed; signal below for more speed.”

Mr. Metcalf jerked the engine-room telegraph. A quickened impulse of the steel hull followed. Inky smoke rolled in volumes from the two funnels of the big ship. Never had she gone faster. Under the forced draught in the sweating stokeholds below, the firemen toiled desperately. Steam screeched from the ’scape pipes in a constant roar, testifying to the big head of power being carried in the ship’s boilers.

It was a race to thrill the most critical, and a contest of speed, too, which had, as its goal, a human life; for, from the frantic signals now being made by the man on the drifting flying-boat, it was plain that he did not expect to keep above the water much longer.

The _Mexico’s_ wireless man was signaling Jack.

“Hit it up, you _Tropic Queen_.”

“We’re doing nicely, thank you,” came back Jack. “What’s the matter with your old sea-going smoke wagon?”

In this way the messages between the two on-rushing steamships were flashed back and forth above the sparkling sea, while the drama of the race for a life was going forward.

And now the passengers had caught sight of the tiny object adrift on the vast ocean. A hoarse cheer ascended to the boat decks, in which the shrill voices of women mingled. They were shouting encouragement and advice to the castaway of the sky.

He replied by waving. The speed of the ship suddenly was reduced. Under Quartermaster Schultz a boat crew was made up. Jack begged to be allowed to be one of them and, to his delight, the captain told him to cut along.

Sam, although deeply disappointed at being left behind, nevertheless cheered with the rest as the boat was lowered and struck the water with a splash. Then, as the steamer’s propellers ground in reverse to check her way, it dashed off toward the stricken flying-boat.

The craft could be seen quite plainly now—a dainty affair with golden, shimmering wings supporting a boat-like structure amidships. Jack was familiar with the general construction of flying-boats, the very latest type of aëroplane, from pictures he had seen in magazines, but he had never seen a real one before. He marveled that so frail looking a craft could have made her way so far out to sea.

But as they neared the stricken airship, shouting words of encouragement to her lone occupant, a startling thing happened. Simultaneously a groan burst from the throats of the boat crew.

The flying-boat vanished from the surface of the sea as if she had been a smudge wiped off a slate with a sponge.