The Motor Rangers on Blue Water by Marvin West - HTML preview

CHAPTER XXIV.
 THE LAST OF THE "NETTIE NELSEN."—CONCLUSION.

But they had little time to brood over their misfortune. Hardly had they made the discovery, in fact, before Captain Akers gave a low exclamation and pointed seaward. At first the boys could see nothing but peculiar, wispy-looking clouds floating near the horizon.

But even in the short time they gazed the clouds became larger.

"Is bad weather coming?" asked Nat uneasily.

"Yes, my lad, it is," was the grave reply. "Those clouds yonder look to me like the forerunners of a typhoon."

"Good gracious!" exclaimed Nat, "and this boat is overloaded as it is. What are we to do?"

"My advice is to skirt along the coast till we find a place to land and then run the boat ashore."

"But the shore may be swarming with savages," objected Nat.

The captain shrugged his shoulders.

"Can't be helped, my lad," he said, "and, after all, we stand a better chance with the savages than we do in this boat in a typhoon."

They could not help admitting that this seemed true. In even a moderate gale the lightly built collapsible craft would not last long. In one of the savage typhoons of Polynesia she would be sunk like a stone.

No time was lost therefore in getting out the oars and starting to pull along the coast. Acting on Captain Akers' recommendation, they kept close in to the shore. But they were not rewarded by the sight of any good landing place. On the contrary, Ohdahmi—like the other islands of the Marquesas Group—rose precipitately from the water, the cliffs towering steeply up from the surface of the sea.

"What is that peculiar looking object over there?" asked Nat suddenly.

He indicated a black thing bobbing about on the water. It was not so very far distant from the boat and they all gazed at it with interest.

"It's a barrel!" exclaimed Captain Akers presently, "and—really this is very curious—it has two smaller barrels attached to each side so as to keep it upright. If it wasn't that bad weather may be on us at any moment, I'd like to look into this thing."

"It certainly looks peculiar," admitted Nat. "Hark!" he broke off suddenly. "I can hear somebody singing!"

Sure enough, there came borne to their ears the sound of a song, intoned in a not over musical voice:

"My bonnie lies over the oc-e-a-n!
 My bonnie lies ov-er the sea!
 My bonnie lies ov-er the ocean!
 O-ho-o, bring back my bonnie to me!"

"Where on earth is it coming from?" gasped Nat, glancing about. He half suspected that Ding-dong might be playing a trick. But no, the stuttering lad's face was puzzled as the countenances of the others.

"It's coming from that barrel!"

The words came from Captain Akers.

"Impossible!" cried Nat.

"I'm not so sure about that," struck in Cal. "I've got purty good ears, an' it certainly seems to me that the singing is coming frum that keg."

"Ahoy there!" shouted the captain, determined to put an end to the mystery once and for all. "Who are you in that keg?"

"Ahoy!" came back the answer in ringing tone, though somewhat muffled. "I'm Sam Hinckley, a marooned sailor. Who——"

But Sam got no further. With vigorous strokes the boat was pulled alongside, while the Motor Rangers and their chums shot out volleys of questions. The barrel was quickly secured alongside and the top, after some difficulty, broken in with an oar butt.

The next instant Sam, rather pale and wan looking, but otherwise seemingly not much the worse for his ordeal, emerged from it. As soon as he was somewhat recovered, and the boat once more under way, he related his story. As they had suspected, the placing of Sam in the barrel had been one of Morello's devices and came about in this way.

After Captain Akers and Cal had left the "Nomad" in search of the lads, Sam and Captain Nelsen took watch and watch about, waiting for something to transpire.

Sam was on watch in the early morning when, through the darkness, he saw the dark outline of the schooner—which, it will be recalled, had slipped out of the landlocked lake—heading toward them. Presently she came to anchor and stopped. A boat was lowered and several men, all armed fully, clambered into it.

In the meantime, Sam had summoned Captain Nelsen from his berth. But the veteran mariner was as unable as Sam to devise a means of coping with the situation. His advice was not to resist, which, in the long run, would have been useless, but to cut and run for it. In accordance with this resolve, Sam went below, while Captain Nelsen got up anchor.

The next instant the "Nomad" was moving swiftly through the water, while a howl of rage went up from the baffled occupants of Morello's boat. But, having started his engines, Sam could not resist the temptation to run astern and shake a fist at the rascals. In doing this he had lost his balance, and before he could utter a cry, or even make a sound, he was overboard.

In the meantime, Captain Nelsen, who was at the wheel of the "Nomad," and supposed Sam was still below at his engines, kept right on. When he came to the surface Sam found that the "Nomad" was some distance off and Morello's boat close upon him. The next instant hands reached out for him from the craft and he was dragged on board, and, on his shouting to attract Nelsen's attention, was promptly knocked on the head.

He came to in the cabin of the schooner and here, as Sam said, he got a shock. Bending over him was the form of a man he knew only too well. That of Elias Gooddale.

"But Elias Gooddale is dead in California!" exclaimed Nat.

"True enough," rejoined Sam, "the real one is. But this Gooddale is a spurious one. It is time now that I should tell you what I have been meaning to since we set out on our trip. As you know, I came from the South Sea Islands some years ago. I never told the reason—it was this: When my father, Elias Gooddale, emigrated to these islands from Australia I was only a little fellow.

"But to return to the schooner," he broke off. "This Gooddale, as he calls himself, instantly recognized me and began a long rigmarole about some sapphires. It seems, to make a long story short, that he and Morello whom he met years ago in Mexico had come to some sort of agreement to divide some sapphires. I told them I knew nothing about them." (This was true. While conversant with the main object of the trip, Sam had not been told of the sapphire hoard.) "I also told Gooddale that I wished nothing to say to him; that I knew him to be a scoundrel. I would have said more, but just then that fellow Dayton struck in.

"'Head him up in a keg and chuck him overboard,' he said. 'The fellow is in the way on board and likely to prove a source of trouble if we don't look out.'

"They seemed to hesitate a while and then consulted together. The upshot of it was that I was to be placed in that barrel with some biscuit and water. Holes were pierced in the top and Morello told me I ought to be lucky to get such a chance for my life.

"Then they placed me in the thing, lowered me overside, and set me adrift. I was desperate at first, as you may imagine. But afterward I cooled down and set to work trying to figure out some way out of my scrape. The better to keep up my spirits, I started to sing. A good thing I did, too, or you'd have missed me sure."

"Then you are the son of the real Elias Gooddale?" asked Nat wonderingly, after a pause.

"I am, and I have in my chest the papers to prove it. But I never would take such steps but for the black treachery of my uncle—my mother's brother—for such is the relationship of the false Elias Gooddale to me. His right name is Jonas Meecham. Well, as I said, when we came out here I was only a little fellow. Father took up land on Ohdahmi and soon had a flourishing business on his hands.

"Then one day Jonas Meecham arrived. From what I have been able to gather, father had some secret on his conscience which Jonas Meecham also knew. At any rate, from what I saw as I grew older, I know that Meecham bled him for money constantly.

"Not long after I made this discovery poor mother died. I was then in a terrible position for a youngster, for father was moody and melancholy and Jonas was cruel and crafty and hated me. One day, it was after a trading schooner had called at the islands, father was missing. He left a letter for me, telling me that he had left the island forever, leaving all he had to Jonas and expressing the hope that he would never prosper.

"He had gone to seek a new fortune in California, he said. Well, after he left, Meecham, to avoid complications I suppose, assumed the name of Elias Gooddale. He was brutal and cruel to me, and one night I stowed away on a cocoanut schooner and escaped. I drifted about the islands for some time, learning much of sailoring and boat building. But all the time my goal was California. I longed to find my father. In the meantime, I assumed the name of Hinckley, for, since my uncle took it, my own was hateful to me.

"By the merest chance, as you know, I entered the service of Captain Akers. In that way I learned from you that you knew positively of the death of my father."

"And also that he found the fortune for which he was seeking, but found it too late to do him any good," struck in Nat. "Give me your hand, Sam. If things work out right, you will be a wealthy man."

"Why—what?" stammered Sam, astonished at the lad's enthusiasm.

"I mean what I say," went on Nat, who had not previously told Sam any of the details of their adventures. "We have, by an extraordinary coincidence, been holding in trust for you a fortune."

"A fortune? Where is it?" gasped Sam.

"In the hands of Morello, and——"

"Stand by!" roared Captain Akers. "Here she comes!"

So engrossed had they all been in Sam's narrative that they had not paid any attention to the threatened storm. But now "here she came," as the captain put it, with a vengeance.

A white wall of water rolled toward the boat. It did not seem as if she could live for an instant.

"Head her up into it!" roared Captain Akers sturdily.

His order was obeyed and the boat, overloaded as she was, rode the waves bravely, although she shipped considerable water. Following the first billow, the waves, though high, were not so menacing. But it was without a doubt only a question of time before the boat must be overwhelmed.

"Look!" shouted Nat suddenly. "There's a small bay around that point yonder. Pull for that!"

"Right, my lad. If we're not swamped before we reach it, we can beach her there in safety," decided the captain.

The boat was headed for the bay. On and on she drove, the waves raising her heavenward one minute and the next instant dropping her into a dark abyss of their troughs.

"Hurray! We're almost there!" shouted Nat gleefully as they neared the beach. But there is many a slip 'twixt cup and lip. Hardly had the words left his lips before a mighty wave bore down on the overladen boat. Caught in the avalanche of green water, she sank like a stone. The next instant her occupants were struggling in the surf.

Nat struck out for shore, but before he reached it his strength, already sapped by the adventures of the night and morning, gave out altogether. But just as the undertow caught him and he was being dragged back into the boiling vortex of surf, a strong hand seized him and dragged him to safety.

"Thanks, Sam," choked out the half-drowned boy, recognizing his rescuer. "You saved my life."

"And if all goes well, you have saved me a fortune," retorted Sam briskly. "Some time when we have an opportunity I wish you would tell me the full story of my father's death."

Nat promised. He was glad to see, as he stood on the beach, that all of the party had landed in safely, although they presented a bedraggled, miserable appearance.

Luckily Cal, like a seasoned mountaineer, carried some matches in a waterproof case. He produced these and, collecting driftwood, they soon had a roaring blaze going in the shelter of a cliff and were standing about it drying themselves. It was then that Sam heard from Nat's lips the full narrative of the sapphire find and the strange adventures that had followed thick and fast. Hardly had he concluded before, round the point, there came driving through the storm a craft which they all recognized with a shout as the "Nettie Nelsen."

On she came, fleeing before the storm like some frightened creature.

"My stars!" shouted Captain Akers, as he gazed. "If they don't put their helm up, they'll be on the rocks in another minute!"

"That's right," cried Nat, "but look," he went on, "no wonder they can't handle her. Her mainmast is gone."

"So it is, lad. Gone by the board."

"She's driving straight for those rocks!" cried Cal, indicating a line of low-lying rocks which ran out seaward from the point. The spray was breaking over them in wind-driven clouds. Through the whiteness their black points could be seen sticking up like fangs.

In another moment the schooner was among them. A terrible, rasping, grinding sound ensued as she pounded on the rocky surfaces. A sharp chill ran through the boys as they gazed. In that sea, and in her position, it would have been evident to the veriest landsman that she could not live more than a short time. Even as they gazed the foremast snapped off short and went overside with a terrific crash. Worse still, some figures, which had been clinging to it, vanished with it.

"If we could only help them," breathed Nat. "It is terrible to watch such a scene helplessly."

"Yet we can do nothing," said Captain Akers. "But, look! it is the beginning of the end!"

As he spoke a big gap could be seen to open in the side of the unfortunate schooner. The waves broke over her in clouds and her bowsprit snapped off, dragged by the weight of the foremast, with the report of a gun.

All at once the watchers saw two figures emerge from below and appear on the stern. It was at once evident that they were struggling.

"It's Dayton and Morello!" exclaimed Nat.

"So it is," cried Joe. "Look, Morello is seizing something from Dayton and shoving it into his pockets. He's got on a life-belt—oh!"

The exclamation was called forth by something that had just occurred. The figure Nat had recognized as Morello had been seen suddenly to draw a pistol. The next second there was a flash and a puff of smoke. No report could be heard above the fury of the storm, but they saw Dayton throw up his hands and topple backward.

As he did so Morello, without a backward glance, leaped to the stern rail, and without an instant's hesitation jumped overboard from the fast-breaking craft.

"He'll be drowned!" cried Joe.

"No, he won't," rejoined Nat. "I saw him put on a life-belt before he jumped."

Breathlessly they watched Morello as he neared the shore. One minute he would vanish altogether, but the next he reappeared, and steadily forged ahead. In the haste and desperation with which he had left the schooner, he had not noticed the party on shore. But as he drew closer he suddenly saw them. Had they been a party of ghosts he could not have been more panic-stricken. With a loud cry that was instantly choked by the water, he threw his arms above his head.

As he did so he sank. But the waves caught him and rolled him toward the shore.

"We must get him out or he'll be killed," cried Nat, as time and again the struggling man was drawn back by the undertow.

"How can we?" gasped Cal. "If only I had a lariat here, I'd—

"We can do better than that," said Nat hopefully.

"How?"

"Form a human chain. Captain Akers, you are the heaviest. You will form the anchor. Now then you take hold of Cal and Cal will grip Ding-dong and he in turn will hold Joe, who will grasp me."

Before they could remonstrate against his daring plan, Nat had them all lined up under his directions, and then, while Joe held him tightly, the brave lad plunged into the surf.

As Morello came within reach he seized him, only to find him instantly torn from his grasp. But the next time the leader of the outlaws came within reach Nat did better. He caught and gripped him tightly.

"Heave!" he shouted back to the others. With a rush Nat and the man he had saved were pulled out of the surf by the living chain and landed high and dry on the beach. Morello's senses had left him and his cheeks were a dead white under their swarthy hue. He gasped like a fish that has just been landed.

Nat knelt by him and began applying "first aid" measures. While doing so he noticed that the man's body was extraordinarily lumpy. The next instant he discovered why. Morello's pockets were filled with the sapphires. It was a wonder he had not sunk like a stone when he jumped. The cause of the fight between himself and Dayton was explained now. Doubtless the other had tired to prevent his leader escaping with the loot.

Without compunction on the Motor Rangers' parts, the outlaw leader's pockets were rifled. Of course, not all the stones were there, but the finest lay exposed to view on the sand when the task was done. Sam Hinckley—or Sam Gooddale, as we must call him now—looked on with eyes that fairly bulged.

"And just to think," he exclaimed, "that my poor dad found all that."

"It is tough to think that he found it too late to make use of it," agreed Joe.

Just then Morello opened his eyes. He sat up with a start and a wild shout:

"Get the wheel over, you lubbers! Head her about, I say! I——"

He broke off short and looked about him with a terrible look of rage as he realized all at once where he was and what had happened. Suddenly his eyes fell on the sapphires. With a yell, he dashed for them. But Cal's strong hand jerked him away.

"Go easy, colonel," he said. "You've had a lot of rope, but you've reached the end of it now. And, moreover—— Ah! you would—would you!"

The colonel had drawn a knife, and, but for Cal's quick blow on the wrist, which sent it spinning into the spume, he would have plunged it into the mountaineer.

"After that we'd better tie him," said Captain Akers. "Joe, my boy, will you cut some of those creepers I see growing up yonder? They'll make nice bracelets and ankle ornaments for this gentleman."

Morello growled, more like a trapped wild beast than a human being, and then, after being bound, sank into apathy by the fire. It was not till some days later that they learned from him that when the schooner had been dismasted some of the crew had made off in a boat, among them being the false Elias Gooddale. It may be said here that the boat was never heard of again, and doubtless sunk in the hurricane, although it may have reached some remote island.

What with shell fish on the rocks, and cocoanuts and bananas inland, our castaways were in no danger of starving. But they passed a restless night, nevertheless. As for Morello, his bound form sat huddled by the fire, gazing unblinkingly—like a captured wild cat—into its depths. Of what was he thinking? Of his misspent life? Perhaps.

At dawn, when the tempest had died out, Nat, who was on watch, gave a great shout. The others instantly awakened and saw the most glorious sight they could have thought of at that instant.

The "Nomad" was moving swiftly into the bay. Behind her came a "trig and trim" looking black gunboat. At her stern flew the tricolor of France. As she anchored a puff of smoke rolled from her side and a loud report went echoing against the cliffs. Evidently the gunboat's commander meant to show the natives he meant business. By and by a boat was dropped and, manned with sailors, left the gunboat's side. It stopped at the "Nomad" for an instant to take on the sturdy form of Captain Nelsen.

Ten minutes later the adventurers were reunited. Captain Nelsen found it hard to control his emotion when he learned of the loss of his schooner, of which no trace remained at daylight. He did so manfully, however, and listened to the boys' strange stories. Another interested auditor was Captain De Lesseps of the gunboat "Tricolor."

After missing Sam, Captain Nelsen had been about to put back after him. But the storm struck him and he was blown seaward, despite the powerful engines of the "Nomad." Shortly before dawn the French gunboat had seen his signals of distress—blue Coston lights—and borne down on him. When the gale moderated the two vessels had left in company for the island, the captain in the meantime having told his story to Captain De Lesseps.

No time was lost in sending landing parties of marines after the savages and the leaders of the raid were captured and doomed to exile on another island. The wounded man who had helped the boys escape was also found and set at liberty. This done, Morello, against whom the boys lodged charges, was placed on board the "Tricolor," in irons in the brig, and taken to Nukahiva, till it could be arranged to have him extradited. Among other charges, that of the murder of Ed. Dayton, who was never seen again, was placed against him.

Sam, in due time, proved his right to the sapphires, which had led to such an eventful cruise on blue water. One of the first things noticeable after Sam had acquired his wealth was that he visited many shipyards, inquiring for the smartest schooner obtainable. The upshot of it was that Captain Nelsen now has a new "Nettie Nelsen," fitted with auxiliary gasolene engines. She is the smartest craft of her size in the coast trade, and the captain is on the road to fortune.

As for the Motor Rangers, the exigencies of space compel us to bid them farewell, for the time being, at this point. But other adventures—in a new field—are in store for them, to the full as exciting as any through which they have yet passed. What these were and how our lads bore themselves in the trying and often perilous circumstances that lay ahead of them will all be told in detail in the next volume of this series—"The Motor Rangers' Cloud Cruiser."

THE END.