The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Racer Boys, by Clarence Young This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Title: The Racer Boys The Mystery of the Wreck Author: Clarence Young Release Date: February 29, 2020 [EBook #61534] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RACER BOYS *** Produced by Roger Frank and Sue Clark from page images digitized by the Google Books Library Project and generously made available by HathiTrust Digital Library THE RACER BOYS FRANK DIVED OVERBOARD THE RACER BOYS Or The Mystery of the Wreck BY CLARENCE YOUNG AUTHOR OF “THE MOTOR BOYS SERIES” AND THE “JACK RANGER SERIES” ILLUSTRATED NEW YORK CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY BOOKS BY CLARENCE YOUNG THE RACER BOYS SERIES 12mo. Illustrated. Price per volume, 60 cents, postpaid. THE RACER BOYS THE RACER BOYS AT BOARDING SCHOOL THE RACER BOYS TO THE RESCUE (Other volumes in preparation) THE MOTOR BOYS SERIES 12mo. Illustrated. Price per volume, 60 cents, postpaid. THE MOTOR BOYS THE MOTOR BOYS OVERLAND THE MOTOR BOYS IN MEXICO THE MOTOR BOYS ACROSS THE PLAINS THE MOTOR BOYS AFLOAT THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE ATLANTIC THE MOTOR BOYS IN STRANGE WATERS THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE PACIFIC THE MOTOR BOYS IN THE CLOUDS THE MOTOR BOYS OVER THE ROCKIES THE MOTOR BOYS OVER THE OCEAN THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE WING THE MOTOR BOYS AFTER A FORTUNE THE JACK RANGER SERIES 12mo. Finely Illustrated. Price per volume, $1.00, postpaid. JACK RANGER’S SCHOOLDAYS JACK RANGER’S WESTERN TRIP JACK RANGER’S SCHOOL VICTORIES JACK RANGER’S OCEAN CRUISE JACK RANGER’S GUN CLUB JACK RANGER’S TREASURE BOX Copyright, 1912, by Cupples & Leon Company CONTENTS I. Hit by a Whale II. The Wrecked Motor Boat III. The Boy’s Rescue IV. “Who Are You?” V. Seeking the Wreck VI. Chet Sedley’s Style VII. A Lively Cargo VIII. Andy is Caught IX. “Thar She Blows!” X. A Rival Claim XI. A Fire on Board XII. The Stranger Again XIII. A Midnight Scare XIV. The Wreck Again XV. Ordered Back XVI. On the Search XVII. On Cliff Island XVIII. “There He Is!” XIX. In the Cave XX. The Rising Tide XXI. Death is Near XXII. The Storm XXIII. To the Rescue XXIV. The Escape XXV. A Lucky Quarrel XXVI. The Prisoner XXVII. Searching the Wreck XXVIII. Building a Raft XXIX. “Sail Ho!” XXX. The Accusation—Conclusion THE RACER BOYS CHAPTER I HIT BY A WHALE “How about a race to the dock, Frank?” “With whom, Andy?” “Me, of course. I’ll beat you there—loser to stand treat for the ice cream sodas. It’s a hot day.” “Yes, almost too warm to do any speeding,” and Frank Racer, a lad of fifteen, with a quiet look of determination on his face, rested on the oars of his skiff, and glanced across the slowly-heaving salt waves toward his brother Andy, a year younger. “Oh, come on!” called Andy, with a laugh rippling over his tanned face. “You’re afraid I’ll beat you.” “I am, eh?” and there was a grim tightening of the older lad’s lips. “Well, if you put it that way, here goes! Are you ready?” “Just a minute,” pleaded Andy, and he moved over slightly on his seat in order better to trim the boat. He took a tighter grip on the oars, and nodded toward his brother, still with that tantalizing smile on his face. “Let her go!” he called a moment later, adding: “I can taste that chocolate soda now, Frank! Yum-yum!” “Better save your breath for rowing,” counseled Frank good-naturedly, as he bent to the ashen blades with a will. The two boats—for each of the Racer lads had his own craft—were on a line, and were headed for a long dock that ran out into the quiet inlet of the Atlantic which washed the shores of the little settlement known as Harbor View, a fishing village about thirty miles from New York. “Wow! Here’s where I put it all over you by about six lengths!” boasted Andy Racer, paying no attention to his brother’s well-meant advice, and then the two lads got into the swing of the oars, and the skiffs fairly leaped over the waves that rolled in long swells. Both boys having spent nearly all their summer vacations at the coast resort, which was something of a residence, place for summer colonists, as well as a fishing centre, were expert oarsmen, sturdy and capable of long exertion. They were nearly matched in strength, too, in spite of the difference in their ages. They had taken a long, leisurely row that summer morning and were on their way back when Andy proposed the race. “Row! Row! Why don’t you put some speed in your strokes, Frank?” called the younger brother. “That’s all right—you won’t want to do any speeding by the time you get to the dock,” and Frank glanced over his shoulder to where the public dock stretched out into the bay like some long water-snake. “It’s nearly two miles there, and the swell is getting heavier.” Frank spoke quickly, and then relapsed into silence. It was characteristic of him to do whatever he did with all his might, while his more fun-loving brother sometimes started things and then left off, saying it was “too much trouble.” For a time Andy’s skiff was in the lead, and then, as he found the exertion too much, he eased up in his strokes, and lessened the number of them. “I thought you were going it a bit too heavy,” remarked Frank, with a smile. “Oh, you get out!” laughed Andy. “I’ll beat you yet. But I like your company, that’s why I let you catch up to me.” “Oh, yes!” answered Frank, half sarcastically. “But why don’t you stop talking? You can’t talk and row, I’ve told you that lots of times. That’s the reason you lost that race with Bob Trent last week—you got all out of breath making fun of him.” “I was only trying to get him rattled,” protested Andy. “Well, he got the race just by sticking to it. But go on. I don’t care. I’m going to win, but I don’t want to take an unfair advantage of you.” “Oh, lobsters! I’m not asking for a handicap. You never can beat me in a thousand years.” And, with a jolly laugh Andy began to sing: “The stormy winds do blow—do blow, And I a winning race will row—yo ho! You’ll come in last, Your time is past. Out on the briny deep, deep, deep! Out on the briny deep!” “All right, have your way about it,” assented Frank good-naturedly. “I can stand it if you can,” and with that he increased his strokes by several a minute, until his skiff had shot ahead of his brother’s, and was dancing over the waves that, now and then, brilliantly reflected the sun as it came from behind the fast-gathering clouds. “Oh, so you are really going to race?” called Andy, somewhat surprised by the sudden advantage secured by his brother. “Well, two can play at that game,” and he, also, hit up the pace until in front of both boats there was a little smother of foam, while the green, salty water swirled and sparkled around the blades of the broad ashen oars, for the boys did not use the spoon style. For perhaps two minutes both rowed on in silence, and it was so quiet, not a breath of wind stirring, that each one could hear the labored breathing of the other. The pace was beginning to tell, for, though Frank was not over-anxious to make record time to the dock, he was not going to let his brother beat him, if he could prevent it. “I shouldn’t wonder but what there’d be a storm,” spoke Andy again, after a pause. He couldn’t keep quiet for very long at a time. “Um,” was all the reply Frank made. “What’s the matter; lost your tongue overboard?” questioned Andy with a chuckle. Frank did not reply. “I’m going to pass you,” called the younger brother a moment later when, by extreme exertion, he had regained the place he had held, with the bow of his craft in line with Frank’s. Then Andy fairly outdid himself, for, though Frank was rowing hard, his brother suddenly shot ahead. “It’s about time you did some rowing,” was Frank’s quiet remark, and then he showed that he still had some power in reserve, for he caught up to his brother, and held his place there with seeming ease, though Andy did not let up in the furious pace he had set. “Oh, what’s the use of killing yourself?” at length the younger lad fairly panted. “It’s—it’s farther than I thought.” He began losing distance, but Frank, too, had no liking for the fast clip, so he, likewise, rowed slower until the two boats were on even terms, bobbing over the long ground swell that seemed to be getting heavier rapidly. From time to time one brother or the other glanced over his shoulder, not so much to set his course, for they could do that over the stern, having previously taken their range, but in order to note the aspect of the fast-gathering clouds which were behind them. The wind, which had died out shortly after they had started on their row that morning, now sprang up in fitful gusts, with a rather uncanny, moaning sound, as if it was testing its strength before venturing to develop into a howling storm. “Don’t you think it’s going to kick up a rumpus?” asked Andy, tired of keeping quiet. “Um,” spoke Frank again, for his breath was needed to keep up his speed in the swells. “There you go again—old silent-face!” and Andy laughed to take the sting out of his words. “Your tongue will get so tired being still so long that it won’t know how to wiggle when you want it.” Frank smiled, and glanced over his shoulder again. He noted that the dock, which was their goal, was now a little more than half a mile distant. He could see several fishing boats and other craft making for the more sheltered part of the harbor. Frank was calculating the space yet to be covered, to decide when he should begin the final spurt, for, though the race was only a friendly one, such as he and his brother often indulged in, yet he wanted to win it none the less. He decided that it would not do to hit up the pace to the limit just yet. “It’s a heap sight longer than I thought it was,” came from Andy, after a bit. “What say we call it off?” “Not on your life” exclaimed Frank vigorously. “I’m going to finish whether you do or not—but you have to buy the sodas if I do.” “I will not. I’ll finish, too, and I’ll beat you.” Once more came a period of silent rowing. Then, whether it was because he pulled more strongly on one oar than on the other, or because of the drift of the current, and the effect of the wind, the younger lad suddenly found himself close to the boat of his brother. At that moment Frank had once more turned to look at the dock, and Andy could not resist the chance to play a little trick on him. Skillfully judging the distance, he suddenly swept back his left oar, so that the flat blade caught the crest of a long roller and a salty spray flew in a shower over Frank. “What’s that—rain?” Frank cried, turning quickly. He saw the laughing face of his brother, and guessed what had happened. “I thought this was a rowing race, not a splashing contest!” he cried good-naturedly. “It’s both,” was the answer. Then, though Frank kept on vigorously swinging the oars, Andy paused, rested on the ashen blades, and, holding the handles of both under his left palm for a moment, he pointed out to sea with his right hand, and cried: “Look! What’s that out there, Frank?” “Oh, ho! No you don’t! You don’t catch me that way—pretending to show me a sea serpent!” objected the older lad. “No, really, there’s something there—something big and humpy—it’s moving, too! Don’t you see it? Look, right in line with the Eastern Spit Lighthouse! See!” Andy stood up in his boat, skillfully balancing himself against the rolling swell, and pointed out to sea. His manner was so earnest that, in spite of the many times he had joked with his brother, Frank ceased rowing and peered to where the extended finger of the younger lad indicated something unusual. “Smoked star fish! You’re right!” agreed Frank, forgetting all about the race now, and standing up in his craft, in order to get a better view. “What is it?” cried Andy. “A floating wreck?” “That’s no wreck,” declared Frank. “Then what is it?” “It’s a whale, if I’m any judge. A whale, and a big one, too!” “Dead?” “I guess so. No—by Jupiter! It’s alive Andy, and it’s coming this way!” “Cracky! If we only had a harpoon or a bomb gun now, that would be the end of Mr. Whale. Let’s row out and meet him!” “Say, are you crazy?” demanded Frank, with some heat. “Crazy? No; why?” “Wanting to tackle a whale in these boats! We’d be swamped in a minute! We’d better pull out to one side. Most likely the whale will keep on a straight course, though he’ll be stranded if he goes much farther in. The tide’s out, and it’s shallow here. Pull to one side, Andy—the race is off. Pull out, I tell you!” and Frank swung his skiff around with sudden energy. “I am not! I’m going to get a nearer view of the whale!” cried Andy. “Maybe he’s hurt, or perhaps there’s a harpoon with a line fast to it in him. We might get hold of it and—” “Yes, and go to kingdom come. Nixy! Get out of the way while you’ve got time. Jinks! He’s coming on faster than ever!” Frank’s manner so impressed his brother that the younger lad now began to swing his craft around. They could both see the whale plainly now, even while sitting down, for the great sea animal was nearer. Then, whether it was some sudden whim, or because he saw the boats and took them for natural enemies, there was a sudden swirling of water and the whale increased his speed, heading straight for the two skiffs that were now almost touching side by side. “He’s coming!” yelled Andy. “I told you he was!” cried Frank. “Row! Row! Get out of the way!” This was more easily said than done. In vain did the lads pull frantically on their oars. The whale was now coming on with the speed of an express train. He was headed right for the two boats! “Pull out! Pull out!” shouted Andy. “He may go between us then!” It was good advice, and Frank, who was a little the better rower, started to follow it. But it was too late. On came the monster of the deep, his great head throwing up a huge wave in front of him. Andy was rowing as hard as was his brother until he suddenly jumped his left oar out of the oarlock. In another moment it had gone overboard. This seemed to attract the attention of the whale to the skiff of the younger lad. The monster might have thought that the occupant of the boat was trying to hurl a harpoon. Suddenly changing his course, the leviathan, which had been headed for Frank’s craft, now turned toward Andy’s. “Look out!” frantically shouted the older lad. “I can’t! He’s got me!” screamed Andy. The next instant there was a splintering, crashing and rending of wood. A shower of spray flew high in the air. Frank’s boat rocked on the heavy swell caused by the flukes of the whale, as they went deep into the water after delivering a glancing blow upon the unfortunate Andy’s skiff. Frank had a momentary glance of his brother’s boat, with one side smashed down to the water’s edge. He saw the green sea pouring in, and he saw Andy standing up, ready to leap overboard. He saw the maddened monster sheering off out to sea again, and then Frank cried: “I’m coming, Andy! I’m coming! I’ll save you! Hold on to your boat! Don’t jump!” The whale disappeared in a smother of foam, as Frank, with desperate energy, bent to his oars and swung his boat in the direction of the sinking one containing his brother. CHAPTER II THE WRECKED MOTOR BOAT “Hold on, Andy! Hold on! You’ll float for a while yet!” called Frank, while he threw all his strength upon the oars in the endeavor to reach his brother. He cast anxious eyes about, fearing a return of the whale, but there was no sign of the big creature. “All right—take your time!” called Andy. “I can keep afloat for quite a while yet. Maybe I won’t sink after all.” “I’m not taking any chances,” returned Frank, and then he swung his craft up alongside that of his brother. As Andy had said, his skiff was in pretty good condition. This was due to two causes. The blow of the whale’s tail had been a glancing one, and the skiff had an unusually high freeboard, so that though it was splintered down to the water edge, not much of the sea had entered. “I believe she’ll float when I’m out of it so she’ll ride higher,” declared the younger lad. “Take me into your boat, and maybe we can tow mine in and fix it up. It’s too good to lose.” “That’s right. Wow! But you had a narrow escape!” and Frank looked very grave as he assisted his brother into the undamaged craft. “I thought it was all up with you.” “So did I, when I saw that beast coming for me. But he sheered off just in time. Then I felt sure my boat would fill and sink in an instant, when I saw the water pouring in, after he swiped me, so I got ready to jump. I didn’t want to be carried down with it.” “That’s right. Say, that’s cut through as clean as if done with a knife,” and Frank looked at the slash in the side of his brother’s boat. It was indeed a sharp cut, and showed with what awful force the tail of the monster must have descended. “As much water came pouring in over the side as there did through the hole,” went on Andy. “That’s what gave me a scare. But did you see the harpoon in that whale?” “No, was there one?” “Sure as you’re a foot high. There was a short piece of line fast to it, and the whale had a big hole in his side. He’s been wounded, probably by a steamer’s propeller after he was harpooned up north, or else that’s the wound of a bomb gun. I could see it quite plainly.” “Yes, you had a nearer view than I’d want,” observed Frank, as he made fast Andy’s boat to the stern of his own. As the younger lad had said, his skiff, now that it was higher in the water, because his weight was out of it, took in very little of the sea. “I guess we can tow it if we bail out,” observed Frank. “Are you very wet?” “Not much—only up to my knees. I was just going to jump in and swim for it when you called to me. Well, here goes for bailing.” “Yes, and if you shift that anchor back to the stern it will raise the bow, and the hole will be so much more out of water. It’ll row easier, too.” “Right you are, my hearty. Shiver my timbers! But it’s some excitement we’ve been having!” and Andy laughed. “Say, I believe you’d joke if your boat was all smashed to pieces, and you were floating around on the back of the whale,” observed Frank gravely. “Of course I would. A miss is as good as a mile and a half. But if I can find my other oar I’ll help you row in your boat. It ought to be somewhere around here,” and Andy ceased his bailing operations to cast anxious looks over the rolling waves. “Yes, we’ll look for it after we get some of the water out of your craft. I can’t get over what a close call you had,” and, in spite of the fact that he had been in many dangerous places in his life, Frank could not repress a shudder. “Oh, forget it!” good-naturedly advised Andy, vigorously tossing water out of his boat with a tin can. “Hello! There’s my lost oar out there. Put me over.” “All right,” agreed Frank. “I think we’ve got enough water out so she’ll ride high. Now for the dock.” “I guess you’ll win the race,” observed the younger lad, half regretfully, as he recovered his ashen blade. “Oh, we’ll call it off,” said Frank good-naturedly. “We’ll have something to tell the folks when we get back to the cottage; eh?” “I guess. But are you going right home?” “Why not?” “Oh, I thought we might row in, and take out our sail boat. I’d like to have another try for that whale. We might get him, and there’s money to be made.” “Say, do you mean to tell me you’d take another chance with that whale?” demanded Frank, as he prepared to row. “Of course I would! It would be safe enough in our catboat. He’d never attack that. We could take our rifles along and maybe plug him. Think of hunting for whales! Cricky! That would be sport!” and Andy sighed regretfully. He seemed to have forgotten the narrow escape he had just experienced. “Come on, let’s do it, Frank,” he urged. “Don’t go up to our cottage at all. If you do mother will be sure to see me all wet. Then she’ll want to know how it happened, and the whale will be out of the bag, and we can’t go. Let’s start right out in the Gull as soon as we hit the pier. There won’t be any danger, and we might sight the whale. He must be nearly dead by this time.” “I wonder if we could find him,” mused Frank. “Sure!” exclaimed his impulsive brother. “It will be great. There’s some grub aboard the Gull and we can stay out until nearly dark. Mother doesn’t expect us home to dinner, as we said we might go to Seabright. Come on!” “Well, if you feel able, after—” “Pshaw! I’m as fit as a fiddle. Let’s hit it up, and get to the dock as soon as we can. Think of landing a whale!” “Or of being lambasted by one,” added Frank grimly. Nevertheless, he fell in with his brother’s plan, as he usually did. The two boys rowed steadily toward the pier, towing the damaged boat. They were very much in earnest. In fact, though of different characters, the brothers were very much alike in one trait—they always liked to be doing things. Their name fitted them to perfection; they were “Racers” by title and nature, though Andy was the quicker and more impulsive. They were the sons of Mr. Richard Racer, a wealthy wholesale silk merchant of New York City. Mr. Racer owned a neat cottage at Harbor View, and his summers were spent there. His wife, Olivia, was a lady fond of society, and when she closed her handsome house in New York, to go to the coast resort for the summer, she transferred her activities there. While in the metropolis Mrs. Racer spent much time at charitable organizations, and at Harbor View she was a moving spirit in the ladies’ tennis and golf clubs. Mr. Racer traveled back and forth from New York to Harbor View each day during the summer, for his business needed much of his attention. His vacation, however, was an unbroken series of days of pleasure at the coast resort where he and his wife and sons enjoyed life to the utmost. The two boys had spent so many summers at Harbor View that they were almost as well known there as some of the permanent residents, and they had many friends among the seafaring folk, especially in the lads. They had one or two enemies, as will develop presently, not through any fault of their own, but because certain lads were jealous of our heroes. “Well, we’re here,” announced Frank at last, as he swung the boat up alongside the landing stage which rose and fell with the tide. “And it’s a good wind coming up,” observed Andy. “We can make good time out in the Gull.” “Maybe we’d better beach your boat before we go out, and pull it above high-water mark,” suggested Frank. “Some of the seams may have been opened, as well as this hole being in her, and she might sink.” “Good idea. We’ll do it.” As the brothers were ascending the gangway from the float to the pier, preparatory to going out in their sailing craft, they were hailed by an elderly man, whose grizzled, tanned face gave evidence of many days spent on the water under a hot sun. “Where you boys bound fer now?” the sailor demanded. “Oh, we’re just going out for a little sail, Captain Trent,” replied Andy. “Better not,” was the quick advice. “Why?” Frank wanted to know. “It’s coming on to blow, and it’s going to blow hard. Hear that wind?” and the captain, whose son Bob was quite a chum of the Racer boys, inclined his grizzled head toward the quarter whence the breeze came. “Oh, that’s only a cat’s paw,” declared Andy. “You’ll find it’ll turn out to be a reg’lar tomcat ’fore you’re through with it,” predicted the old salt. “But what happened to your boat, Andy? I see you’ve got a hole stove in her. Did you run on the rocks?” “No, something ran into us,” replied Frank quickly. “Don’t say anything to him about the whale,” he remarked to his brother in a low voice. “What’s that about a sail?” demanded the captain, catching some of Frank’s words. “We’re going for a sail,” spoke Andy quickly. “Come on, Frank.” “Better not!” again cautioned Captain Trent. But our heroes were no different from other boys, and did not heed the warning. Had they done so perhaps this story would not have been written, for the events following their sail that day were unusual, and had a far-reaching effect. “Come on!” called Andy sharply to his brother, as he saw the captain making ready to start a discussion about the weather. Mr. Trent might also ask more questions about the damaged boat, and neither Andy nor his brother wanted to answer—just yet. Five minutes later saw the two brothers sailing away from the pier. The breeze was getting stronger every moment, until the rail of their trim boat was under water part of the time. “Say, it is blowing!” declared Frank. “Oh, what of it? The Gull can stand more than this. Besides we’re safe in the harbor, and we may soon sight the whale. Keep a good lookout!” For some time they sailed on, each one scanning the expanse of the bay, which was now dotted here and there with whitecaps. The boat was heeling over almost too much for comfort. “Hadn’t we better turn back?” asked Frank, after a period of silence, broken only by the swish of the water. “Of course not,” declared the more daring Andy. “It was about here that my boat was stove in. The whale may be around these diggings looking for us.” “Likely—not!” exclaimed Frank decidedly. There came a fiercer gust of wind, and it fairly howled through the rigging. The waters whitened with spray and foam. “It’s a squall!” yelled Frank. “Better turn back.” “We can’t now,” shouted Andy at the top of his voice, to make himself heard above the howling of the wind. “We’d better keep on to Seabright. We can lay over there until this blows by. See anything of the whale?” “No. It’s useless to look for him. I’m going to take a reef in the sail.” “That’s right. I guess you’d better shorten some of our canvas. I’ll hold her as steady as I can while you’re doing it. Or shall I lash the helm and help you?” “No, you stay there. I can manage it.” The storm increased in sudden fury, and it was no easy task to shorten sail with the pressure of the wind on it. But Frank Racer had considerable skill in handling boats, and with his brother at the helm, to ease off when he gave the word, he managed to cast off the throat and peak lines, lower the gaff and sail, and then take a double reef in the canvas. Even under the smaller spread the Gull shot along over the foam-crested waves like some speeding motor boat. Andy was so taken up with watching his brother, and in aiding him as much as he could by shifting the helm as was needful, that he did not look ahead for several minutes. He was recalled to this necessary duty by a sudden, frightened cry from Frank. “The rocks! Look out for the rocks!” shouted the older lad. “We’ll be on ’em in a second! Port your helm! Port!” Andy desperately threw over the tiller, and with fear-blanched face he looked to where his brother pointed. Amid a smother of white foam, almost dead ahead and scarcely two cable lengths away there showed the black and jagged points of rocks, known locally as the “Shark’s Teeth.” The Gull was headed straight for them. Anxiously, and with strained eyes, the brothers looked to see if their boat would answer her rudder. For a moment or two she hung in the balance, the howling wind driving her nearer the rocks, to strike upon which meant sure destruction in the now boiling sea. Then, with a feeling of relief, Andy saw that they were sheering off, but very slowly. Could they make it? They were near to death, for no one—not even the strongest swimmer—could live long unaided in that boiling sea that would pound him upon the sharp rocks. Suddenly Frank uttered a cry, and pointed to a spot at the left of the rocks, in a space of water comparatively calm. “There! Look! Look!” he shouted. “What is it? The whale?” demanded Andy. “No, a boat—a motor boat! It’s disabled—drifting! It must have been on the rocks. It’s a large one, too. Look out you don’t hit it.” “It’s on fire!” cried Andy. “See the smoke—the flame! It’s burning up!” The Gull was now far enough from the Shark’s Teeth to warrant her safety, and the boys could look at the motor craft, that was bobbing helplessly about in the spume and spray, being tossed hither and thither by the heaving waves. “See anybody on her?” yelled Andy. “No—not a soul,” answered Frank, who had made his way forward, and was standing up, clinging to the mast. Suddenly, amid the howling of the storm, there came a sharp explosion. There was a puff of flame, and a cloud of smoke hovered over the hapless motor boat, which, strange to say, still remained intact and afloat. “She’s blown up! Exploded!” yelled Andy. “Yes, and there’s a boy in the water! Look!” fairly screamed Frank. “He was on the boat! The explosion must have blown him out! He’s floating! We must save him, Andy!” “Sure! Jupiter’s lobsters! but things are happening to us to-day! Look out! I’m going to put about!” Frank scrambled back to join his brother. The big boom with its shortened sail swung over, and, heeling under the force of the shrieking wind, the Gull darted toward the dangerous rocks once more. Toward the wrecked motorboat, toward the figure of the boy floating in the smother of foaming and storm-torn waves she swept. Could they reach the helpless lad in time? It was the question uppermost in the hearts of Frank and Andy Racer. CHAPTER III THE BOY’S RESCUE “Can we make it, Frank?” questioned Andy desperately. “We’ve got to,” came the quick answer. “Ease her off a little until I get the lay of things.” “Is he swimming?” demanded the younger lad. “Yes, but only with one hand. He must be injured. He can just manage to keep afloat. Put in a little closer. We’ve passed the worst of the Teeth. It’s deep water here, isn’t it?” “Yes, as near as I can tell. I haven’t been here very often. It’s too dangerous, even in calm weather, to say nothing of a storm.” The wind was now a gale, but the boys had their sailboat well in hand and were managing her skillfully. They came nearer to the feebly swimming lad. “There he goes—he’s sunk—he’s under!” yelled Andy, peering beneath the boom. “Too bad!” muttered Frank. “We’re too late!” Eagerly he looked into the tumult of waters. Then he uttered a joyful cry. “There he is again! He’s a plucky one. We must get him, Andy!” “But how? I daren’t steer in any closer or I’ll have a hole in us and we’ll go down.” “We’ve got to save the poor fellow. I wonder who he is?” “It’s tough,” murmured Andy. “See, the fire on the motor boat seems to be out.” “Yes, probably the explosion blew it out. The boat floats well. Maybe we can save that.” “Got to get this poor boy first. Oh, if he could only swim out a little farther we could throw him a line. Hey there!” he called to the lad, “we’re coming! Can you make your way over here? We daren’t come in any closer.” There was no answer, but the desperately struggling lad waved his one good arm to show that he had heard. Then he resumed his battle with the sea—an unequal battle. “Plucky boy!” murmured Frank. “I’m going to save him. He can never swim out this far.” Andy had thrown the boat up in the wind, and had lowered the sail so that she was now riding the waves comparatively motionless, for there came a lull in the gale. Then, even as Frank spoke, the unfortunate lad again disappeared from sight. “He’s gone—for good this time I guess,” spoke Andy, and there was a solemn note in his faltering voice. “No! There he is again!” fairly yelled Frank. “I’m going overboard for him.” “You can’t swim in this sea!” objected his brother. “There’ll be two drowned instead of one.” “I can do it!” firmly declared the older lad. He began to take off his shoes, and divest himself of his heavier garments. “You’re crazy!” cried Andy. “You can’t do it!” “Just you watch,” spoke Frank calmly. “I can’t stand by and see a lad drown like that. Have we a spare line aboard?” “Yes, plenty. It’s up forward in the port locker under the deck.” “Good. Now I’m going to tie a line around my waist, and go overboard. I’ll swim to that chap and get a good hold on him. Then it will be up to you to pull us both in, if I can’t swim with him, and I’m afraid I can’t do much in this sea. Can you haul us in, and manage the boat?” “I’ve just got to!” cried Andy, shutting his teeth in grim determination. “The boat will ride all right out here. The wind isn’t quite so bad now. Take care of yourself.” “I will. Shake!” The brothers clasped hands. Frank well knew the peril of his undertaking, no less than did Andy. They stood on the heaving, sloping deck of the Gull, and looked into each other’s eyes. They understood. “Watch close, and pull when you see me wave to you,” ordered the older lad, as he fastened the rope about his waist. “All right,” answered Andy, in a low voice. With a quick glance about him, noting that the wounded lad was still struggling feebly in the water, Frank dived overboard. He disappeared beneath the green waves with their crests of foam, and for a moment Andy anxiously watched for his brother. Then he saw him reappear, and strike out strongly toward the other youth. Frank was an excellent swimmer. “That’s the way to do it!” murmured Andy admiringly. “If anybody can save him, Frank can.” The younger lad was braced against the tiller, standing in a slanting position, his feet planted firmly in the cockpit, while he payed out the rope, one end of which was about Frank’s waist, and the other made fast to a deck cleat. “To the left. To the left!” yelled Andy suddenly, as he saw his brother taking a slightly wrong course. The spume in his eyes, and the bobbing waves which now and then hid the wounded lad from sight, had confused Frank. The latter made no reply, but his hand, raised above the water, and waved to Andy, told that he understood the hail. Frank changed his course, still swimming strongly. The wind had again begun to blow hard, and the Gull was drifting nearer the rocks, yet Andy dared not send her out for fear of pulling Frank with him. He must stand by until— Carefully he payed out the line. He could see it slipping through the green water. Then he caught a glimpse of his brother on the crest of a wave. The next moment he saw how close he was to the lad he had so bravely set out to save. “Tread water! Don’t swim! Tread water and save your strength!” cried Andy to the injured one. The boy heard and obeyed. In another moment Frank was near enough to clasp the almost exhausted lad in his strong right arm. Andy saw this and there was no need for the signal which his brother gave an instant later. Frank was on his guard lest the youth he was rescuing might clasp him in a death grip. But the latter evidently knew something about life saving, for he placed his uninjured hand on