Dave Porter and His Rivals/Chapter 15
CHAPTER XV
A RUNAWAY MOTOR-BOAT
"What do you make of that?"
"The motor-boat must have run away from Nat!"
"Either that or Nat has fallen overboard!"
"Maybe Nat has been drowned!"
These and other remarks were made, as the boys on the highway gazed down at the craft that was speeding along in such an erratic fashion over the surface of the river. A closer look confirmed their first opinion, that nobody was on board.
"I'm going to try to stop her!" shouted Dave, and ran back along the highway, and disappeared into the bushes. Roger followed him closely, and some of the others trailed behind.
"I am going up the river—to see if I can find Nat!" shouted Phil, and away he sped, and Sam and Ben went along.
It was no easy matter for Dave to work his way down the bank of the stream. The bushes were thick and the footing uncertain, and once his jacket caught on a root and he had to pause to free himself. But at last he came out on a narrow strip of rocks and sand, at a point where the Leming River made a broad turn.
The water at this point was quite shallow, and here he thought the progress of the motor-boat would be stayed. His surmise was correct, the craft bringing up between several smooth rocks. The engine continued to work, pounding the boat back and forth, and threatening to sink her.
Fortunately, Dave had on a pair of gaiters he had borrowed, and they were so big that he slipped them off with ease. His socks followed, and then he rolled up his trousers to his knees, and waded into the stream.
"Be careful, or you'll slip and hurt yourself on the rocks!" sang out the senator's son.
"I'm watching out!" returned Dave.
He was leaping from one smooth stone to another, keeping in the shallow spots as much as possible. Thus he managed to get within a few yards of the motor-boat.
As he came closer he saw that the craft was pounding on the rocks worse than before. The pounding had in some way moved the gasoline control forward and also advanced the spark, and the engine was practically running "wild."
"I hope she isn't getting ready to blow up!" thought the youth, and he gazed anxiously ahead. Smoke was issuing from the motor-boat, coming from some over-heated oil.
He leaped to the next high rock, and then plunged boldly forward, soon gaining the bow of the craft. At the stern the propeller was churning the water into a white foam. The craft was trembling violently, and the hum of the machinery gave full evidence of the power it was exerting.
Fortunately, Dave's knowledge of gasoline engines now stood him in good stead, and without the loss of a second he turned off the supply of gasoline and the electric spark, and thus allowed the engine to "die." As the propeller slowed up and stopped, the water behind the craft calmed down, and then the pounding on the rocks was reduced to a gentle rub that did little but scratch the paint.
"Is she all right, Dave?" called out Roger, who stood on the rocks of the bank watching proceedings with great interest.
"I think so, although it hasn't done the engine any good to run wild. She's pretty well heated up, and the cylinders may be carbonized, or something like that."
"What are you going to do—try to run her in here?"
"No, I'll not take the risk. I only wanted to stop the engine and get rid of the risk of the boat blowing up."
"You ran a big risk doing it. She looked to me as if she might go up any instant."
"She can't get out of here—the current holds her," went on Dave. "She will be perfectly safe until Nat comes for her. I'd like to know where he is."
"Phil and some of the others went off to see."
To save the boat as much as possible, Dave took two of the wooden gratings of the flooring and tied them to ropes hanging over the sides. In this position they acted as fenders, so that the rocks rubbed against the gratings instead of the boat proper.
"I am afraid he'll have quite a job of it, getting her out into the stream," said Dave, on coming ashore, and when he was putting on his socks and the gaiters. "She'll have to back out against the current and do a lot of turning."
"Maybe he'll have to get somebody to tow him out, with a very long line," returned Roger.
"If only Nat didn't fall overboard," said Dave.
In the meantime, Phil and some of the others had run up the stream a distance. As they turned a point where there were several small islands the shipowner's son set up a shout.
"There is Nat now!"
"Whatever is he doing?" queried Ben.
"Swimming ashore, or trying to wade," answered Sam.
The boys on the shore came down to the water's edge and watched Nat Poole with interest. He was floundering around in water up to his waist. Sometimes he would come up on a rock, and then slip and pitch headlong. But he kept on, until he was but a few yards away.
"Hi, Nat! what's the matter?" called out Phil. "Did you fall overboard?"
"Hel—help me!" chattered the unfortunate one, and now the others realized that he was suffering greatly from the cold. "Don—don't let m—me—g-g-g—go down!"
"We'll help you!" answered Phil, promptly, and ran out on some dry rocks to a point close to poor Nat. "Come, give me your hand and I'll pull you up."
"So will I," added Ben, who had come behind the shipowner's son.
The suffering youth was only too glad to have somebody come to his aid, and he put up both hands, and those on the rocks hauled him up and then aided him to get to a safe spot on shore. He was shivering from head to feet, and his teeth chattered so that he could hardly speak.
"I wa—want t-t-to get where it is wa-wa-warm!" chattered Nat. "That wa—water is li—like i-i-i-ice!"
"Take off your wet coat," said Phil, kindly. "Here, you can have mine. I've got a sweater on." And he passed over the garment.
Nat was glad enough to don something dry, and the exchange was quickly made.
"If you'll take my advice, you'll make a run of it to the nearest farmhouse and warm up," said Ben. "If you don't you may take your death of cold."
"I—I wi—will," answered Nat.
"I'll go with you. There is a farmhouse just down the road a bit."
"We'll go back to where we left Dave and the others," said Phil. "They were after your boat," he explained.
"Did th—they st—stop h-h-her?"
"I don't know. We saw her, in the river, running wild. How did it happen?"
"I was fi—fixing the rudder li—line at the st—st—stern when all of a su—sudden we hit a r—r—rock or something and I we—went overboard," answered Nat. "Before I co-could g-g-get back the b-b-boat got away from m-m-me."
"Dave and some others went after the boat. We saw it running by itself, among the rocks."
Nat was too cold to pay attention just then to what had become of his property. He ran as fast as he could to the farmhouse, and there was taken in and allowed to dry himself in front of the fire, and was given a cup of hot tea. In the meantime Phil rejoined Dave and Roger, and told how the money-lender's son had been found.
It was after the supper-hour when all of the boys got back to Oak Hall, and Job Haskers was on the point of reading them a lecture and forcing them to do without supper when Doctor Clay appeared. To the master of the school the lads related their story, and he at once excused them for their tardiness, and told them to go directly to the dining-room, while he ordered Lemond to get out the school coach and go after Nat.
"Poole can be glad he was not drowned," said the doctor. "It was nice of you to stop the engine of his boat. But after this I want all of you to be more careful. I do not want to lose any of my boys!" And the look he gave them went to the heart of every lad present.
"What a difference between him and old Haskers!" murmured Phil.
"I'd give as much as a dollar to have Haskers leave," added Sam.
"I reckon every fellow in the school would chip in a dollar for that," was Plum's comment.
When Nat got in he was sent at once to his room, to change all of his clothes, and was then given a hot supper, which made him feel quite like himself. Later on he questioned Dave about the motor-boat, and said he would try to get the craft from among the rocks the next day, hiring a professional boatman to assist him. He did not thank Dave for his aid, nor did he thank Phil and the others.
"I guess it isn't in him to thank anybody," was Ben's comment. "Nat is one of the kind who thinks only of himself."
"He will have a hard time of it, getting his boat," said Dave, and so it proved. It took half a day to get the craft from among the rocks, and then it was found that she leaked so badly she had to be sent to a boat-builder for repairs.
That Saturday was the day scheduled for the football game with Lemington. As Nat could not take the eleven to that town in his motor-boat, as promised, the school carryall was pressed into service. This made some of the other students, who had arranged to go in the carryall, find other means of conveyance, and there was considerable grumbling.
"Poole said he would take 'em in the motorboat," growled one student. "He ought to have seen to it that his boat was repaired on time."
The Old Guard football eleven all had bicycles or motor-cycles, and they went to the Lemington Athletic Grounds in a body on their wheels. All carried the school colors, and many also had horns and rattles.
"We'll show 'em that we can root for Oak Hall even if we are not on the eleven!" declared Dave.
Job Haskers took but little interest in athletics, declaring he thought too much time was wasted over field sports, but Andrew Dale was keenly alive to what was going on. He knew all about the trouble in the football organization, and he watched the departure of Dave and his chums with interest.
"Aren't you going, Mr. Dale?" asked Dave.
"Oh, yes, I am going in the carriage with Doctor Clay. Do you think we shall win, Porter?"
"We'll win if rooting can do it!" cried Dave.
"Then you intend to 'root,' as you call it? "
"Yes, sir—we are going to root for all we are worth."
"I am glad to know it," answered Andrew Dale; and then he turned away to attend to some school duties. Later on, when he and the doctor were on the way to the game, he mentioned the trouble in the football club, and told how Dave and his chums had been left out in the cold, and how Dave and the others were now going to cheer for and encourage the school eleven.
"Fine! Grand!" murmured the master of the school, his eye lighting up with pleasure. "That is the proper school spirit! It does Porter, Morr, and the others great credit."
"Exactly what I think, Doctor," answered the first assistant. "Many players would have remained away altogether, or gone to the game to throw cold water on the efforts of those on the gridiron. It shows a manliness that cannot be excelled."
"Yes! yes!" murmured Doctor Clay. "A fine lot of boys, truly! A fine lot! It seems a pity they were forced off the team."
"Perhaps they'll be back—before the football season is over," answered Andrew Dale, gravely.
"What do you mean, Dale?"
"Perhaps the football eleven will need them and be glad to get them back."