The Radio Boys at Ocean Point: or, The Message that Saved the Ship

“Mrs. Dale has not been well recently,” he concluded, “and, as the doctor has ordered a change of scene for her, I thought it would be nice to get a small party of friends and all take the trip together. What do you think of the proposition?”

All the adult members of the party received the idea with approbation, although for one reason or another some of them feared that they would be unable to go. Their objections were argued away by Doctor Dale, however, and before the evening was over Mr. and Mrs. Layton, Mrs. Plummer, and Mrs. Atwood had promised to make the trip. Rose begged so hard to go that finally she, too, was included. The rest of the evening was taken up by excited discussion of the proposed trip. Dr. Dale was urged to stay all night, and finally, as it was getting late, he agreed. He found time to question the boys about their trip to the big wireless station, and they told him enthusiastically all about it. The evening passed so quickly that they were all surprised to find that it was considerably past their usual bedtime, and it was a tired but happy quartette of lads that finally said “good-night” and left the older people to complete the plans of their forthcoming trip.

CHAPTER XIV – FUN IN THE SURF

The next morning the boys learned that the tourists had decided to leave on the following day. Mrs. Fennington, Herbert’s mother, had decided to stay at Ocean Point and “take care of the boys and her girls,” she said. All that day there was great excitement and bustle of packing, and by evening all was ready for the tourists’ departure. Everybody went to bed early that evening, as they intended to get the early train to Clintonia, whence they were to go direct to Washington.

Everything went according to schedule, the boys going down to the station with their parents to see them off. Many were the injunctions laid on the boys to “be careful” and “not to swim out too far.” This was duly promised, although the boys prudently forebore to say just what they considered “too far.” Anything less than a mile was all right, as they figured it.

At last the train pulled out, and after it was lost to view around a curve the boys took their way rather more quietly than usual back to the bungalows, which seemed to them to wear a rather forlorn and deserted air. But their usual good spirits soon asserted themselves, and they began to plan what they should do for the rest of the day.

“It’s a swell day for a swim,” said Bob. “Let’s jump into our bathing suits and fool the hot weather.”

“I’ll never say no to a swim,” said Jimmy. “It seems to me that all I do all summer is melt and sizzle except when I can get into the ocean. That’s about the only time I feel comfortable.”

“A swim it is, then,” said Joe. “And the last one down to the beach gets thrown in by the others.”

There was a mad scramble as the boys rushed into their respective bungalows and changed from regular clothes to bathing suits. Articles of clothing flew in every direction, and in an incredibly short space of time Joe emerged, followed closely by Bob, and they set off at an easy pace for the beach, looking backward from time to time to see if the others were coming. Jimmy was the next to emerge, and he started off with head down and hands and feet flying, evidently determined not to be the last this time.

But he had hardly started when Herbert came bursting out of the door and made after his corpulent friend. But Jimmy had gained quite a lead, and it was hard to predict which would be the last to the beach and therefore subject to a thorough ducking at the hands of his friends.

Bob and Joe were so far in the lead that they were in no danger, and they enjoyed the race between Jimmy and Herb immensely.

“They say an elephant can run fast, and Jimmy’s just like one,” said Joe. “He’s certainly putting his heart into it. Which do you think will win, Bob?”

“It’s hard to tell,” laughed Bob. “But if Jimmy loses he’ll be so hot that he won’t mind being ducked, so it will be all right anyway.”

They were all close to the beach now and Herb was fast catching up with Jimmy, who was making heavy weather of it in the deep sand. Herb kept gaining. He was not three feet back of Jimmy when suddenly the latter stumbled and fell. Herb was so close to him that he had no time to stop or swerve, and he tripped over his prostrate companion and went sprawling. Like a flash Jimmy was on his feet again, and before Herb could recover from his fall and get started again, Jimmy had reached the edge of the water, where Bob and Joe were already waiting.

Herb came along a few seconds later, primed for an argument.

“You tripped me up on purpose, Jimmy,” he accused, when he could get his breath. “That was nothing but a trick.”

“You bet it was a trick, and a mighty good one, too,” said Jimmy. “It saved me a ducking, anyway. You’d better get ready to take your medicine.”

“Jimmy’s right,” ruled Bob. “Come on, fellows.”

With one accord the other three rushed on the unfortunate Herb, cutting short his vehement protests. Seizing him by the hands and feet, they lugged him out until the water was three feet or so deep, and then, swinging him back and forth a few times like a pendulum, they threw him with a resounding splash into the crest of an incoming breaker.

Herb struggled to the surface in a few seconds, puffing and sputtering.

“Aw, I don’t care!” he shouted. “I was going in anyway, so you just saved me the trouble of walking in. So long! I’m going to swim to Boston!”

But he did not get very far on this extended journey, for the surf was so high that day that the boys were content to spend their time diving into the big combers and letting themselves be carried shoreward by the big waves. After they had had enough of this, they went up on the beach and played ball with a cork surf ball that Bob had brought with him.

“This beats digging away in school, by a long sight,” said Jimmy. “Next winter when we’re working away like real good boys, we can think of this and wish we were back here.”

“Not on your life!” said Joe. “This place is very nifty now, but there’s nothing more cold looking than a beach in winter.”

“Oh, well, you know what I mean, you big prune,” said Jimmy. “We’ll wish it were summer and we were back here. It’s just as easy to wish for two things as it is for one.”

“Who’s a big prune?” demanded Joe. “Did you hear that insult, Bob? What shall I do to him?”

“Make him lie down in the sand and roll over,” replied Bob, grinning. “You can’t let him call you a prune, even if you are one.”

“That’s what I’ll make him do,” said Joe, ignoring this last thrust, and he went after Jimmy.

But that individual did not wait his coming, but meekly lay down on the sand and rolled over in most approved fashion.

“Want me to do it again?” he asked Joe. “Anything to make you happy, you know.”

“Once is enough,” said Joe. “That means that you’re sorry and apologize, you know.”

“Like fun it does!” said Jimmy. “I just did that because it was less trouble than throwing you into the drink, and, besides, I was afraid of hurting you.”

“Oh, I see,” said Joe. “But don’t let that stop you, Doughnuts. I’ll take a chance of getting hurt.”

“No, I guess I’ll stay here,” said Jimmy, gazing placidly up at the blue sky. “Please don’t bother me any more. Make him stop bothering me, Bob.”

Joe picked up a double handful of heavy wet sand and dropped it squarely on Jimmy’s rotund body.

“Let’s see you make me stop, Bob,” he called, as Jimmy emitted an outraged howl.

Bob was not slow to accept the challenge, and made a flying leap for Joe. The sand flew as they wrestled back and forth, each one striving to throw the other. Finally both went down with a thud, and Bob managed to land on top. Laughing, the two friends scrambled to their feet and dug the sand out of their eyes and ears.

“Thanks, Bob,” said Jimmy. “You landed on him almost as hard as that sand landed on me, so we’re quits. Before anything else happens to me, I’m going home and get something to eat, so as to have strength to stand it. You fellows may not know it’s pretty near dinner time, but I do.”

Thus reminded, all the boys suddenly discovered that they were hungry, and they started for home, after taking one more dip to wash the sand off.

“Do you know,” said Bob, as they started off, “Mr. Harvey told me the other day that we could borrow his motor boat any time we wanted it and he wasn’t going to use it? What do you say if we try and get it to-morrow and take a little cruise?”

This proposal met with instant favor, and that evening the boys planned to leave immediately after breakfast the next morning and try to borrow the motor boat from their new friend at the radio station.

CHAPTER XV – SKIMMING THE WAVES

The next morning dawned without a cloud in the sky, and the boys were so anxious to get started that they could hardly take breakfast. Crisp brown bacon and fried eggs are not to be lightly ignored, however, and they managed to eat a pretty hearty meal, starting on their expedition immediately afterward.

“We couldn’t have picked out a better day if we’d planned for a week ahead of time,” observed Joe. “If we can only get that boat now, everything will be fine and dandy.”

“I think we’ll be able to get it, all right,” said Bob. “The only thing that can stop us is the chance that Mr. Harvey will want to use it himself, and even then, likely enough, he’d take us along.”

“Well, there’s no use worrying about it till we get there,” said Jimmy philosophically. “Even if we can’t get it, I guess we’ll be able to survive the shock.”

But when they arrived at the big station they found their misgivings had been groundless. Mr. Harvey seemed very glad to see them, and when they asked him about the motor boat he told them to “go as far as they liked.”

“I’m pretty busy here these days, and don’t have much time to use it myself,” said the radio man. “You boys will be welcome to the use of it to-day, or any other time. It seems a shame for it to be lying idle a day like this.”

“Well, if you’ll show us where you keep it, we’ll see that it gets a little exercise,” said Bob.

“Sure thing,” said the wireless man. “Come along.”

He led the boys a short distance from the station to a narrow inlet that ran back from the ocean. At the head of this inlet was a snug little boathouse which Brandon Harvey unlocked.

“There she is,” he said, a note of pride in his; voice. “What do you think of her?”

“She’s a little beauty!” exclaimed Bob. “That’s a mighty nifty boat, Mr. Harvey.”

The others were equally unqualified in their praise, because the boat was a beautiful model, twenty-five feet long, with a snug little hunting cabin built up forward. It had a sturdy four cylinder engine, and everything looked to be in perfect order.

Mr. Harvey was evidently pleased by their appreciation of his pet, and pointed out some of the boat’s good qualities.

“She’s as staunch as they make ’em,” he said. “She’s a mighty seaworthy and dependable little craft. I think you’ll find plenty of gasoline in the tank, so you won’t have to worry about anything. I only wish I could go with you.”

“I wish you could,” said Bob. “But we’ll take the best of care of it, and we’ll be back before dark. We’ll not go far, anyway.”

“Well, enjoy yourselves,” said Brandon Harvey. “Can you get the engine started all right?”

For answer Bob gave the flywheel a twirl, and the engine started upon the first revolution. Joe took the wheel, while Bob acted as engineer. They backed carefully out of the boathouse, and then shifted into forward speed and proceeded slowly down the creek toward the bay, the engine throttled down until one could almost count the explosions, and yet running sweetly and steadily, without a miss.

“Say, this engine is a bird!” said Bob enthusiastically. “Just make out I wouldn’t like to own a boat like this!”

“Who wouldn’t?” asked Joe. “It’s about the neatest boat of its size I ever saw. I’ll bet it can go some if you want it to, too.”

“We’ll, you know Mr. Harvey told us it could make twenty-five miles an hour, and that’s fast enough to beat anything but a racer,” said Herb.

By this time they had reached the mouth of the creek, and the whole expanse of the big bay opened out in front of them. There was just enough breeze to ruffle the surface of the water, upon which the sun played in a million points of flashing light. The cool, exhilarating salt wind filled their lungs, and they shouted and sang with the pure joy of living.

“A life on the ocean wave, a home on the rolling deep!” chanted Jimmy. “Whoever wrote that song knew what he was talking about.”

“He’d probably never have written it if he had known you were going to sing it,” said Joe.

“You mind your own business and steer the boat,” retorted Jimmy. “I’ve got lots of courage to sing at all with you steering us. You’ll likely run us onto a rock or a sandbar before we fairly get started.”

“Leave that to me,” said Joe. “The nearest sandbar is about half a mile away now – straight down.”

“Well, that isn’t any too far for safety when you’re the pilot,” said Jimmy. “Anyway, I’m going up on top of that cabin and have a sun bath. Please don’t wreck us until I have a chance to rest up a little, will you? It looks like a long swim to shore.”

“Go ahead then, you blooming landlubber,” grinned Joe. “Leave the running of the ship to a real salty old mariner like me.”

With a grunt that might mean anything, Jimmy clambered up on the low cabin, and in a few minutes, lulled by the gentle motion of the boat, was sound asleep. Herb propped himself comfortably against the side of the cabin and gazed dreamily out over the bright expanse of the bay. Bob opened the throttle a little, and the boat picked up speed, her sharp bows cutting through the water in fine style, with a slow rise and fall as they went further from shore and began to feel the ocean swell. White clouds flecked the deep blue sky, and sea gulls wheeled and soared overhead, calling to one another and ever and anon swooping swiftly downward to seize some unfortunate fish that had ventured too near the surface.

The splash and gurgle of the water alongside was beginning to make the boys feel drowsy when they suddenly noticed another boat ahead of them. This craft was holding a course diagonal to their own, so that the two boats were drawing slowly together, although at present they were perhaps a mile apart.

“There are some other people out enjoying themselves,” said Bob. “Wonder if they’re anybody we know.”

“We’ll soon be close enough to tell,” said Joe. “By Jimmy!” he exclaimed, a few moments later. “I believe we do know ’em, Bob, worse luck. Don’t you recognize that big fellow that’s steering?”

Bob shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed steadily for a few seconds.

“Buck Looker!” he exclaimed finally. “And if I’m not much mistaken, his whole gang is with him.”

“Yes, I can see Carl Lutz and that little beast, Terry Mooney,” said Joe. “And I guess they’ve recognized us, too. See how they’re pointing in this direction?”

The motor boats were drawing closer together, and their occupants could now see each other plainly. Looker and his friends were in a freakish looking craft. It looked as though it might have been a speed boat once, but now wore a shabby and dilapidated air.

CHAPTER XVI – A THANKLESS RESCUE

The two motor boats by now had drawn close together and were holding parallel courses.

“Hey, you fellows!” yelled Buck Looker. “I suppose you think you’ve got a fine, fancy boat there, don’t you?”

“That’s just about what we think, all right,” called back Bob. “It looks it, doesn’t it?”

“Looks ain’t much,” said Buck.

“The looks of that tub of yours aren’t, anyway,” said Herb sarcastically. “A few gallons of paint would make it look more like a real boat.”

“Oh, is that so?” said Buck, with a sneer. “Well, let me tell you, this is a fast boat. We can make circles around that thing you’ve got there.”

“Open her up, Buck, and run away from them,” urged Lutz. “Show them what speed looks like.”

“We’ll have to admit you fellows are good at running away,” commented Joe. “But this time it may not be as easy as you think.”

“We’ll show you!” squeaked Terry Mooney. “Open ’er up, Buck.”

His amiable friend did “open ’er up,” and, with a terrific noise from the exhaust and a cloud of smoke, their boat darted ahead.

But Bob opened the throttle of the Sea Bird a little, and their boat surged forward, apparently without an effort, until they were again abreast of the Looker coterie.

“What’s the matter, Buck?” queried Joe, with mock solicitude. “Won’t it go any faster to-day?”

Both boats were hitting a pretty speedy clip, and this question seemed to infuriate Buck.

“You bet it can go faster!” he yelled. “Pump some more oil into that engine, Carl.”

His friend did as directed, and Buck juggled the spark and throttle controls until his craft attained a speed that would have been sufficient to have left the average cruising motor boat far in the rear. But the Sea Bird was built both for long distance cruising and for speed, and the faster Buck’s craft went, the faster went the Harvey craft.

Straight out to sea the boats headed, diving into the rollers and throwing showers of spray over their occupants. Crouching low in the engine cock-pit, Bob nursed the motor lovingly, an oil can in one hand and a bunch of greasy waste in the other. He was mottled with oil and grease, and the perspiration trickled down his face in little rivulets, but he had never been happier in his life. The engine was running like clockwork, and he knew there was plenty of power and speed in reserve if he needed them.

Buck, on the other hand, was fussing and fuming over his engine, trying to make it go a little faster. But it was working up to its limit, and do what he would, he could not coax an extra revolution out of it.

Joe, who was steering the Sea Bird, looked back at Bob, a question in his eyes. He yelled something that Bob could not hear above the whistle of the wind and the throb of the engine, but he knew what Joe meant, and nodded his head.

The time had come to show Looker and his friends what speed really was. Bob opened the throttle to the limit. The engine responded instantly, and the Sea Bird leapt forward, gathering more speed every second. Leaping from wave to wave, it seemed to be trying to live up to its name, and actually fly. Buck Looker’s craft dropped away as though standing still, and there was soon a long strip of swirling white water between the two boats.

All four radio boys laughed and shouted exultantly, and Jimmy and Herb pounded each other madly on the back in the excess of their joy.

“This is some little through express!” screamed Jimmy into his companion’s ear. “Can’t she hit it up, though?”

But now Buck Looker and his friends were quite a way astern, and Bob was forced to slow down, as they were plunging into the waves at a dangerous speed. One big wave swept over the boat and left them dripping, and for the first time they realized how high the seas were running. They were now well outside the bay, and a stiff southwest wind had arisen and was kicking up a nasty chop. Bob slowed down to half speed, after which they took the big seas more easily, but they all judged it was high time to start back. In the excitement of the race they had gone much further than they had intended, and Joe made haste to swing the bow around and head back for quieter waters.

“I wonder how Buck is making out,” shouted Bob to Joe. “Can you see them yet?”

“Yes, I can see them. But they seem to be having trouble of some sort,” replied Joe. “They’re rolling around in the trough of the waves, and I can only see them when they come up on top of one.”

“If they’re in trouble, I suppose we’ll have to help them out,” said Bob, and as there could be no question about this, the radio boys directed their course toward their erstwhile competitors.

Buck and his cronies were indeed in a bad plight, for their engine had stalled and they were unable to get it going again. This left them at the mercy of the waves, as they had not even an oar aboard. Their boat had not been designed for rough weather, and now it rolled dangerously broadside on to the waves, threatening at any moment to capsize.

As the radio boys approached the helpless craft Terry and Carl stopped long enough in their frantic bailing to shout wildly for help. Buck was still tinkering with the engine, but without result. Their boat was drifting out to sea, and altogether they were in a sorry plight.

Joe approached the helpless craft cautiously, while Bob throttled the engine down until they had only steerage way.

“You’ll have to jump for it!” yelled Joe. “We’ll come as close as we can, and then you can jump aboard.”

Terry Mooney was the first to make ready to jump. He gave a wild leap, but fell short, and would have fallen into the ocean, had not Herb and Jimmy grasped him as he fell and dragged him aboard. Buck and Carl had better luck, and landed safely on the deck of the Sea Bird. They left their craft none too soon, for one of its seams had started to leak, and it was rapidly filling with water. At first the radio boys thought they might be able to tow the disabled craft in with them, but it soon became apparent that it would not stay afloat long enough for this. It settled lower and lower, and even as the Sea Bird picked up speed for the run home the unfortunate craft dived under as an unusually large wave broke over it, filling it with water.

“We got you off just in the nick of time,” said Bob. “If we hadn’t been around, it looks as though you would have had a long swim home.”

“Oh, somebody else would have picked us up if you hadn’t,” said Buck ungraciously. “This boat isn’t the only one at Ocean Point, you know.”

“It seems to be the only one around just now,” said Joe, which was true enough. There was no other craft in sight, and it would have fared ill with Buck Looker and his cronies had the radio boys not been at hand to aid them.

However, gratitude was not to be expected of such boys as Buck and his friends. They drew off sullenly to the stern of the Sea Bird, and as for the radio boys, they wasted no more breath on them. They headed directly for the mouth of the little creek leading to the wireless station, and as they came within the sheltering headlands of the bay the sea became less rough and gradually lessened in violence as they entered more shallow waters.

As they went out that morning, the radio boys had taken special note of conspicuous landmarks, so that they had little difficulty in locating the inlet. Bob throttled the engine down to a low speed, and they were soon creeping up the quiet waters of the creek that were in striking contrast to the turbulent seas outside.

Mr. Harvey had left the doors of the boathouse open, so the boys nosed the Sea Bird carefully into its berth, Herb and Jimmy standing by with fenders to keep it from bumping against the timbers and taking off paint.

Bob had hardly shut off the engine before Buck Looker and Terry and Lutz, without a word of thanks or even saying good-bye, leaped ashore and made off.

“Oh, well, it’s good riddance,” said Jimmy cheerfully. “I’m sure we don’t want them hanging around.”

“I suppose they felt sore about losing their boat,” said Bob. “But they could hardly blame us for that. It was they who proposed to race.”

“And they got all the race they wanted,” said Joe. “Isn’t this boat a little peacherino, though?”

“It’s a wonder,” said Bob. “I’d almost be willing to undertake a trip to Europe in it. I’ll bet she’d make it all right.” The others agreed with him in this estimate of the Sea Bird’s prowess, and they discussed her many virtues as they cleaned up the decks and made everything neat and shipshape. This accomplished, they proceeded to the wireless station, where they met their friend just coming off duty.

“Well, how did you enjoy yourselves?” he questioned. “Did the boat act up all right?”

“I should say she did!” said Bob, and gave him a brief account of the day’s happenings.

“Shucks!” exclaimed Harvey, when he had finished. “Those boys must be poison mean not to have even thanked you for picking them up. I didn’t think anybody could be quite that ungrateful.”