The Boys of the Wireless Part 28

"We had better advise them of our errand. It may be a big steam tug. Two are better than one, and the _Olivia_ may be in a desperate fix."

"If she's really on the rocks she's stove bad long before this," was the discouraging rejoinder of Bill, sending a chill through Tom's frame.

"We could never pull the steamer off the rocks, but a larger craft might," suggested Tom.

"What are you getting at?" asked Bill.

"I think we had better make Brookville and get the boat there, whatever it is, in service."

"You're the boss, Tom," said Bill simply.

Tom made his way back to his seat. Soon the launch described a circle, which, masterly as was the manuvre, sent the craft careening at a perilous angle. Then they headed straight for sh.o.r.e.

They came alongside a steam tug just through coaling at the dock at Brookville. The boat did not have steam up, and was moored safely for the night. Men were moving about the deck with lanterns, making things trim and safe. Tom had caught a grapnel on the rail of the tug and secured it. Then he swung aboard the tug.

He ran up to a man arrayed like himself in foul weather costume, who stood steadying himself at a hawser post, and who was giving orders to the others. The man stared strangely at Tom's sudden appearance.

"Captain," shot out Tom tersely.

"That's me. Where did you come from? Oh, I see," and he caught sight of the outlines of the launch. "What's the trouble?"

Tom briefly, rapidly explained the situation. In an instant he realized that he was fortunate in finding just the kind of a man he needed. The tug captain listened to him in breathless interest. When Tom had concluded he rested his hand on his shoulder in a friendly way.

"You're a good one, lad, whoever you are," he said. "Sorry we're shut down, but we'll set about steaming up in a jiffy. Garvey Rocks, you, said?"

"Yes, sir-know them?"

"Like a book. We'll be on your trail inside of half an hour."

"It's all right!" shouted Tom, as he regained the launch. "Make straight for the steamer, now, Bill."

"No time to lose either," was the snappy response.

The fresh start gave Bill his bearings more clearly than ever.

"I can't miss it," he declared. "Speed her up, Tom."

The young wireless operator gazed anxiously and eagerly ahead as they dashed forward. No lights yet showed, but he knew that the sh.o.r.e line described a circular sweep just beyond Brookville. They might not be far enough out at sea yet to give them a clear view of the waters. His anxiety, however, grew to dismal forebodings as ten, fifteen, twenty minutes pa.s.sed by, and the same blank unbroken blackness loomed ahead.

Suddenly Tom, who had been watching the motor, called out to his companion:

"Say, Bill, you'd better come back here a minute."

"What for? I can't leave the wheel, unless it's something important."

"Well, it's important all right. I don't like the way this machinery is acting. It doesn't seem to be sparking right, if I'm any judge."

"Great Scott! I hope nothing goes wrong in this blow. Wait a second.

I'll be with you. I'll lash the wheel. I guess it will be safe for a little while to keep on a straight course."

Tom heard Bill tossing ropes about as he picked up some to lash the wheel. Then he staggered into the motor room, being tossed from side to side by the pitching of the launch.

Hardly had he reached the side of the young wireless operator, than, with a sigh and a moan-a sort of apologetic cough-the motor ceased working.

"Oh, my!" exclaimed Bill. "There she goes! I should say something _was_ the matter."

"What is it?" asked Tom.

"Don't know yet. I'll have to take a look. It may be the ignition, or the carburetor, or any of half a hundred things that can happen to a gasoline motor. I'll have to take a look."

"Should I have called you sooner?" asked Tom. "It was acting queer for several minutes. First it would go fast and then slow."

"Well, I guess coming in any sooner wouldn't have done much good. I'll take a look now. You'd better help me. Get the lantern and bring it closer. We won't need any one at the wheel when we aren't moving."

The launch was now drifting about at the mercy of the wind and waves.

She fairly wallowed in the water, and it was no easy task to keep one's footing, to say nothing of trying to get a balky motor back into commission. But the two set about their task bravely, while the storm raged about them.

First Bill tested the ignition system. Something was evidently wrong with that, for there came no responsive buzz in the coil when he threw the fly wheel over to make the connections.

"Maybe it's the make-and-break," he suggested. "I'll tinker with that."

Which he did, tightening and loosening the spring, separating and bringing nearer the contact points. But it was useless. There was no buzz.

"Are the batteries all right?" asked Tom.

"I'll test 'em," was the laconic answer, and in a few minutes the announcement came: "They're good and strong. If I can get her to start on the batteries I can swing her over onto the magneto, and we'll be all right. But I can't get a spark."

"How about the plugs?" asked Tom.

"I'll try them next. Oh, there are plenty of things to try."

"And not much time to do 'em in," added Tom grimly, as he held the lantern where the gleam would fall best for his companion. "This is fierce, to be delayed this way when there are men and women-yes, maybe children, too-who need saving!"

"Can't help it!" cried Bill. "We're doing the best we can."

With a quick motion he unscrewed the spark plugs from the cylinder heads.

"Here's trouble already, Tom," he cried. "They're all sooted up. Now I've got to soak 'em in gasoline and--"

"Maybe there are some spare ones aboard!" suggested the young wireless operator. "Let's take a look. It's going to be hard work to clean these old ones in this blow. Besides, I don't like the idea of fooling with gasoline in an open can, and with a lantern so close."

"Neither do I. We'll see if we can't find some extra plugs."

Together they began to rummage through the lockers of the boat. Tossed about as they were, slammed from side to side as the waves pitched the launch, they spent a hard fifteen minutes in the hunt.

"I don't believe there are any," said Bill despondently.

"Here's a box we didn't open!" cried Tom, as he saw a small one down in the bottom of a port locker. "Let's try that!"

In another instant he had the cover off. There, in the beams of the lantern, he saw the gleam of white porcelain.