The Boy Scouts for Uncle Sam Part 8

CHAPTER IX.

THE BOYS MEET A "WOLF."

Faster and faster came the yacht. She was a large white craft, with a yellow funnel and two rakish-looking masts, with light spidery rigging.

Between her masts was suspended a parallel sort of "antennae," wires betokening that she carried wireless. At her bow the foam creamed up as she rushed through the water on her errand of mercy.

With what anxiety those on the _Good Hope_ watched her, may be imagined.

Their eyes fairly burned as they regarded the race of their rescuers against the fire which raged below them. For the two holes cut by Rob and Merritt, while they had had the good effect of attracting aid, had also had a less gratifying result.

Through them the air had been transmitted to the flaming ma.s.s below, and flames were now shooting up through them and enlarging the openings every instant. The air grew so fearfully hot that all were compelled to beat a retreat to the extreme stern of the _Good Hope_.

Little was said as the yacht rounded up as close to the burning ship as she dared, and lowered a boat. By this time clouds of black smoke, shot with livid flames, were shooting skyward above the doomed craft. It was a fortunate thing for the castaways that no wind was stirring or this story might have had a different termination.

The boat was manned by sailors in white duck clothes and was guided by a lad wearing the Boy Scout uniform. As soon as they saw this the boys gave the cry of the Eagle Patrol. As the long drawn "Kree-ee-ee!" died out, the boy in the stern stood erect and gave the Scout salute. Then followed a long-drawn, growling shout:

"How-oo-oo-oo!"

"That's the cry of one of the Wolf Patrols!" cried Merritt.

"Yes; and that boy is a Wolf," declared Rob.

"Well, at all events he comes in sheep's clothing," the ensign could not resist saying.

The next instant the boat was under the stern and the rescued castaways were sliding down a rope into it. Hardly a word was spoken while this was going on; the work in hand was too important.

But hardly had they all found places before, in an earnest voice, the ensign exclaimed:

"Pull for your lives, men; spare no time."

"Why, you are safe enough now," declared the Wolf Scout.

"Far from it," declared the young officer seriously, "the log book of that craft spoke of dynamite on board. They used it to blast their way out of the polar ice. I think----"

A terrific concussion that threw them all from their seats interrupted him. Then came a blinding flash, and this in turn was followed by an explosion that seemed to shake the sea.

"Pull for your lives!" shouted the ensign to the alarmed sailors.

Dazed as they were, they lost no time in doing so, but even then fragments of blazing wood and red-hot metal rained about them in a downpour of great danger.

Luckily, however, none of the blazing fragments struck the boat. As soon as they recovered their faculties, the boys gazed back at the spot where the _Good Hope_ had last been seen. There was not a trace of her. The dynamite had literally blown the ill-fated whaler out of existence. Only oily pools remained on the surface to show the spot of her vanishing.

"I can easily see that you chaps have been through some thrilling experiences," remarked the Wolf boy, whose name proved to be Donald Grant, attached to the Wolf Patrol of the 14th New York City Troop.

"We have, indeed," rejoined Rob, "but we would rather defer the telling of them till we arrive on board your yacht. What's her name?"

"The _Brigand_," was the reply; "we are on a cruise through the West Indies."

"The _Brigand_," echoed the ensign. "Isn't that J. P. Grant, the great financier's yacht?"

"Yes, he's my father," rejoined Donald simply; "he's on board. You'll be glad to meet him, and I know he'll be delighted to welcome you and hear your story."

"Did you recognize our signal as soon as you saw it?" inquired Rob.

"I sure did," responded Donald; "lucky you sent it up, too, as we were on another course, and would not have pa.s.sed near enough to see that there was anyone on board what we thought was just an old hulk drifting about the ocean."

"You'll be more interested still when you hear how we made the signals,"

spoke up Hiram.

"Well, I knew that the call meant that the necessity was urgent, and although we were going slowly at the time we soon got under full speed.

Dad has been a bit sceptical about scouting, but I guess he'll admit there's some good in it now."

"It was Scout lore that saved our lives," said the ensign quietly.

"Not a doubt of that," agreed Donald; "but here we are, almost alongside the _Brigand_."

The boys gazed up at the towering sides of the big yacht, at her glittering bra.s.s work, and crowds of white-jacketed sailors gazing over the side curiously. Astern a big bronzed man leaned over the rail gazing down with equal interest. Rob recognized him instantly from pictures he had seen of him in the papers, as Junius P. Grant, the "Wall Street King," as he was called.

He greeted them with a wave of his hand.

"Welcome to the _Brigand_, young men," he hailed in a hearty tone; "you have the Boy Scout idea to thank for your lives. Had my lad there been five minutes later we'd have been too late to save you."

"That's true enough, sir," hailed back the ensign; "we all thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your prompt relief work."

"The best thanks you can give me will be to come on board at once and get washed up and partake of the best the _Brigand_ can provide," was the pleasant reply.

"Yes; get on board, quick," urged Donald, as the gangway was lowered and the boatmen shipped their oars, "you look about all in."

"We look like a lot of tramps, I guess you mean," laughed Rob, but for all that he felt a bit ashamed of their appearance. They were covered with grime from their fire-fighting experiences. Loss of sleep, hunger, and exposure had drawn their cheeks and reddened their eyes. Altogether, they looked very unlike the trim crew that had set out from the Derelict Destroyer _Seneca_ only a comparatively short time before.

As soon as they arrived on board, they were turned over to the steward, who provided them with quarters in which to spruce up. Everything on the _Brigand_ was appointed as luxuriously as could be possible. This fact rather added to the boys' embarra.s.sment. But when half an hour after their arrival they gathered about a splendidly appointed luncheon table, their embarra.s.sment turned to positive bashfulness. Never had any of them felt so out of place. The ensign alone retained his self-possession.

It was not till Mr. Grant had tactfully interested them in relating their adventures, that they forgot their self-consciousness and ate and drank during the narrative, like famished wolves--or Eagles.

CHAPTER X.

A NEW RECRUIT.

It was about an hour after luncheon, which, naturally enough, with all that had to be related, had been a rather protracted meal. The party of which the Boy Scouts and their naval friend had so unexpectedly become members was foregathered beneath the stern awning in comfortable wicker chairs.

The ensign was relating to Mr. Grant, under pledge of secrecy, some details of the work which was expected to be accomplished on the lonely island. Mr. Grant, who was intensely interested, agreed to put the officer and his young charges ash.o.r.e at Charleston or some convenient port, provided the _Seneca_ could not be reached by wireless. The boys were secretly hoping that this would prove impossible, that they might protract their cruise on the _Brigand_.

Donald and the boys had instinctively become chums. The millionaire's son was a manly, self-reliant sort of chap, with crisp, curly hair, and blue eyes that could be merry or determined. Then, too, he was a first-cla.s.s Scout and deeply versed in Scout lore. In fact, the Eagles were no more than a match for the knowledge of this young Wolf.