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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.”

“You haven’t had the experience with them that we have,” said Bob. “But we enjoyed the trip immensely, anyway, and certainly want to thank you for lending us your boat.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” said Harvey heartily. “Any time you want it again, just say so. When are you coming to visit me at the station again?”

“Why, we’ve been meaning to get there for several days past,” said Bob. “If you’re going to be there to-morrow, we can drop in then. How about it, fellows?” turning to his friends.

“Sure thing,” said they all, and so it was agreed. Mr. Harvey had been walking with them in the direction of the bungalow colony while the foregoing conversation took place, but now his path branched off from theirs, and he said good-night after reminding them of their promise to visit him the following day.

The boys continued on home, discussing the events of the day. They arrived just a little before the evening meal was served, and they fell on the repast like a pack of young wolves, as they had taken no lunch with them, not expecting to be out so late.

“My goodness!” exclaimed Mrs. Fennington, when they had at last finished. “I’m glad you boys don’t go motor boating every day. You’d soon eat us out of house and home if you did.”

“If we owned the Sea Bird, Mother, we wouldn’t need any home,” said Herb. “We’d live aboard, wouldn’t we, fellows?”

The others laughingly agreed to this.

“There’s a dandy concert on to-night,” remarked Jimmy. “I saw the program in the newspaper. Some colored singers from a college down South.”

“Suits me,” returned Joe, and a little later all the boys and a number of the others were listening in. The musical numbers were well rendered, and they listened with delight.

“Hark!” cried Bob, when they were waiting for another announcement by wireless. “There goes a regular code message. Wish we could read it.”

“I can make out some of it,” answered Joe. “W – I – K – no, I guess that was L. Maybe it was WILL. Might be ‘will arrive,’ or something like that,“ and he sighed. “Gee, if we only could get onto it!”

“We will some day,” answered Bob.

“You bet!”

CHAPTER XVII – AN OCEAN BUCKBOARD

One morning soon after their arrival at Ocean Point the boys went down to the beach equipped with a novelty that they had often heard about, but had never seen until the night before.

It had been Jimmy’s birthday, and his father had made and sent him a gayly decorated surfboard to celebrate the occasion. When he first saw it Jimmy was at a loss to know what kind of strange present he had received, but when he showed it to the other radio boys, Bob quickly told him what it was for.

“I saw a moving picture once that showed the beach at Tampa,” said Bob. “It looked as though almost everybody had one of those surfboards, as they are called.”

“Yes, but what do you do with the thing? That’s what I want to know,” complained Jimmy. “It looks like something that would be fine for scaring the birds away from the garden, but, aside from that, I can’t think of much use for it.”

“Why, you just flop down on it against the crest of a surf wave, and the wave does the rest,” explained Bob. “At least, that’s the way it looked in the pictures. The wave carries you and the surfboard along in front of it, and believe me, you travel some, too.”

“Well, that listens all right,” said Jimmy dubiously. “But since you know all about it, it’s up to you to try it out, Bob.”

“Surest thing you know, I’ll try it out,” returned Bob. “I suppose we’ll get plenty of duckings while we’re learning how, but we’ll be out for a swim, anyway, so what’s the difference?”

On the morning following they sallied out bright and early, eager to experiment with this latest means of amusement.

“I only hope there’s a good surf running,” said Bob. “I suppose now that we want it to be a little rough, the sea will be as smooth as a mill pond.”

“Well, I hope not,” said Jimmy. “I’ve never seen a mill pond myself, but according to all the dope they must be about the stillest things that ever happened. I wonder if there is such a thing as a rough mill pond. If there is, I’d be willing to go a long way to see it.”

“Oh, there are lots of things like that,” said Herb, laughing. “For instance, whoever saw an aspen leaf that didn’t quiver?”

“Yes, or a terrier that didn’t shake a rat,” said Joe.

“Or a pirate that didn’t swagger,” said Jimmy.

“Or even a pancake that wasn’t flat,” added Bob.

“Good night!” laughed Herb. “What have I started here, anyway? We’ll all be candidates for the lunatic asylum if we keep this up very long.”

“Oh, well, after being around with you so long, we’d feel right at home,” said Jimmy sarcastically.

“I haven’t any doubt you’d feel at home, all right,” retorted Herb. “I’ll bet you’d feel at home right away.”

“You bet I would,” said Jimmy. “All I’d have to do would be to tell them some of your bum jokes, and they’d elect me a charter member right off the bat.”

“I think Jimmy would show up even better as a member of the Pie-eater’s Union,” said Joe. “He has such a special gift in that direction that he’d soon be champion of the whole outfit.”

“Well, it’s something to be a champion of anything in these days of competition in sports,” said Jimmy. “But here we are, Bob, and here’s yourchance to demonstrate how to become a champion surfboard artist.”

“All right, I’m game,” said Bob. “Hand over that instrument of torture, and I’ll be the goat and give you fellows a good chance to laugh at me.”

The surfboard was about the shape and size of a small ironing board, although much lighter. Equipped with this device, Bob waded into the surf, holding the surfboard over his head until he got into water as deep as his shoulders. There was a fairly high surf running, in spite of his pessimistic prophecy to the contrary. Bob waited until an unusually high breaker came curling in, and then launched himself and the surfboard against the green wall of water.

More by good luck than anything else he caught it at the right angle, and went whirling toward the shore at breath-taking speed. For perhaps a hundred feet he held his position, but then tilted to one side, and in a moment he and the surfboard disappeared in a smother of foam and spray. Tumbled over and over, he finally got to his feet, after the force of the wave had spent itself, and waded into shore, puffing and blowing.

“I got a good start, anyway,” he panted. “I guess it takes practice to keep your balance and come all the way in, but it’s a great sensation. I’m going to try it again.” Suiting the action to the word, Bob waded valiantly in again. After several attempts he finally caught a big wave just right, and by frantic balancing rode all the way in to shallow water. “There you are!” exclaimed Bob triumphantly. “Say, when we once get on to this, it ought to be barrels of fun. Who’s going to be the next one to try it?”

“I’ll take a whirl at it,” said Joe. “It looked easy enough the way you rode in the last time.”

“Sure it’s easy,” grinned Bob, shaking the water out of his ears. “Go to it, Joe. I’ll stand by to rescue you if you need it.”

Joe made several attempts, and received some rough handling from some big breakers before he finally contrived to make a fairly successful trip.

“Wow!” he exclaimed, scrambling to shore and throwing the surfboard at Jimmy. “It’s fun if you have luck, but I thought I was going to drink the whole Atlantic Ocean once or twice. You try it, Jimmy. It’s your board, anyway.”

“Yes, I know it’s my board,” said Jimmy. “Don’t you want to try it next, Herb?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t think of using it before you,” said Herb. “I want to have the fun of seeing you get drowned before me, Doughnuts.”

“Well, I suppose I shouldn’t refuse to give you that pleasure, so here goes,” returned Jimmy, and he waded manfully into the surf, the board poised above his head.

He made a lunge at the first big breaker that came along, but instead of planting the board at an angle, he slapped it against the wave in a vertical position, and the next second he was underneath the board and was being ignominiously rolled and tumbled along the sandy bottom. When the wave finally left him, he staggered to his feet and found the treacherous surfboard floating within a yard of him.

His companions, seeing him safe, laughed heartily at his woebegone and bedraggled appearance.

“It’s great sport, isn’t it, Jimmy?” chaffed Bob.

“Sure it is, when you do it right,” sputtered Jimmy. “I’m going to try it again, if it kills me,” and he seized the recalcitrant surfboard and waded doggedly out again. This time his persistence met with a better reward, for, warned by his previous experience, he placed the board flatter this time, and rode in almost to shore before getting upset.

“That’s enough for a starter,” he gasped. “There certainly is plenty of excitement to it. Go ahead and try it, Herb, with my blessing.”

Herb did not seem any too anxious to follow his friend’s bidding, but nevertheless he took the board, and after several attempts got the hang of it well enough to get enthusiastic over it.

“It’s simply great when you get started right!” he exclaimed. “We’ll each have to get one, and we’ll have more sport than a little with them.”

For the rest of the morning the boys took turns with the contrivance, and by the time they stopped to go home for lunch had gotten quite expert. That afternoon they got their tools, and by evening had fashioned three duplicates of Jimmy’s board. On following days they used them to good effect, and before they left Ocean Point that summer they were all adepts at this new form of sport.