The Boys of the Wireless Part 29

"Spark plugs!" cried Tom.

"New ones!" added Bill. "This is great. Now we'll move!"

Quickly he adjusted the wires, but, before s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the plugs in the top of the cylinders he tested them to see if there was no other break in the ignition system.

As the wheel was swung over there came a welcome buzz from the coil, and a tiny blue flame leaped from point to point of the spark plug, as it lay on top of the cylinder head.

"Hurray!" yelled Tom, above the roar of the wind.

"That's it!" shouted Bill. "Now to see what happens!"

The plugs were inserted, screwed tight, and then came the test.

Steadying themselves as best they could in the rocking boat they turned the flywheel over, Tom having thrown in the battery switch.

There was the tell-tale buzz, which told of the working of the spark plug-a buzz and a hum, but there was no welcoming explosion. No hearty puff from the cylinders that indicated the gasoline mixture being set off by the spark.

"Hum!" mused Bill, as he paused to contemplate the silent motor.

"Something wrong, still?" asked Tom anxiously, gazing off across the dark expanse of water for a possible sight of a flickering light that would tell of the ill-fated _Olivia_. But he saw nothing.

"Well, we'll try once more," exclaimed Bill. "Hold the lantern closer, Tom, so I can see how the timer works."

The young wireless operator obeyed. Once more the buzz and hum told of the perfect working of the ignition system-and yet not perfect either, for the motor was still silent, and the launch was drifting about more helpless than ever.

"Suppose you try, Tom," suggested Bill. "Maybe you'll have better luck than I had."

Tom handed his companion the lantern, and grasped the wheel, for there was little use in trying the automatic starter in such a condition as was the machinery now.

But Tom had no better success, though he strained and tugged, giving the wheel many revolutions.

"Say!" suddenly exclaimed Bill. "The gasoline! Didn't we shut it off when we started to see what the trouble was?"

"We sure did," agreed Tom.

"And we didn't turn it on again, I'll wager. Look at the tank valve."

"That's right!" cried Tom. "Here she comes now."

Waiting a moment for the carburetor to fill, Bill once more swung the wheel over. They waited anxiously to see if it would continue, but with a wheeze it gave up as soon as the muscular impetus stopped.

"Carburetor troubles!" muttered Bill. "And that's the worst kind to have in a storm. Well, there's no help for it. Here goes to adjust it."

As is well known, many carburetors require a different adjustment in rainy weather than in dry. It was so in this case. Bill screwed and unscrewed the air valve and readjusted the b.u.t.terfly automatic. He admitted more gasoline, then less, giving a richer and then a thinner mixture. After each adjustment he tried the motor, but it was not until after about ten trials that, when both were on the point of giving up, suddenly the motor started.

"Hurray!" cried Tom.

"It's about time," murmured Bill. "She's working better than ever now, though," he said, as he listened to the machinery. "I'll go take the wheel now. Watch her carefully, Tom," and he went to the helm again.

Once more they were under way, and their anxious eyes peered through the blackness.

The storm had been bad, but now it was worse. The swift dash of the rain formed a kind of mist. Tom's heart sank as he heard Bill at the wheel utter a kind of impatient groan.

"What's amiss?" he shouted to the pilot.

"Something's wrong-no lights, and I may have missed my course. We'll have to strike sh.o.r.e again, Tom," said Bill.

"Can't we avoid wasting the time?" inquired Tom.

"There may be no chance for the ship to show lights," suggested Bill, in his broad blunt way. "Maybe the _Olivia_ has gone down."

"Oh, surely not that!" cried Tom. "There-there!"

"Good!" chorused Bill, in a gladsome shout; "it must be the _Olivia_!"

Directly ahead, but high up in the air, a brilliant rocket had pierced the gloom of the tempestuous night.

CHAPTER XXII-THE RESCUE

Tom hailed the unmistakable signal of distress from the steamer _Olivia_ with energy and hope.

"I think I understand why we saw no lights," he remarked. "The steamer must have driven into the breakers beyond what they call the North Sentinel."

"That must be it," a.s.sented Bill. "Now Tom, get to your lever."

Bill tackled the wheel with renewed vigor and Tom braced up magically.

At all events, he reflected, the _Olivia_ had not yet gone down. They would be in time for a rescue. The heavy wind, the pelting rain, the erratic gyrations of the launch, were as nothing to him now. The thought that he might be able to save precious human lives inspired him with courage.

A second rocket sailed through the mist-laden air a few minutes later.

Bill, in high animal spirits, amid his excitement kept shouting out like a schoolboy driving a bicycle.

"Go it! Whoop-la! There's a dive for you! Beats automobiling!"

"Hurrah!" broke in Tom.

"She's there," echoed Bill.

"Yes, the _Olivia_ at last," cried Tom.

Veering slightly to southeast, the launch came in sight of the bobbing ship's lights. One, a bulkhead reflector, was quite clear and guiding.

"Go cautiously now, Bill," warned our hero.

"I'll give you speed signals," responded Bill. "One-two, slow up."

"All right."