CHAPTER XXVI.
THE BOYS WIN OUT.
"Now," said Frank briskly the next morning, "as that scoundrel Constantio tried to steal a march on us we shall have to try to discover his powder and make the gas by ourselves."
"What," exclaimed Harry, "do you mean to say that you think it would be possible to do it?"
"If he can, I don't see why we can't," rejoined the other. "The first thing to do is to find his powder. Then to mix it with equal parts of water and sand in the cylinders and screw the caps on."
"Sounds easy," commented Harry.
"I guess the hardest part will be to find the powder," put in Ben. "How are we to tell whether it's hydrogen gas powder or Seidlitz powder, I'd like to know."
After a hasty breakfast a thorough rummaging of the cabin occupied by
Constantio was begun.
"Say, Frank," suddenly cried Ben, who was bending over a locker, "is this the stuff?"
Frank hastened to his side and saw, ranged side by side, a number of wooden boxes about a foot square labeled "Dangerous."
"I guess that's the stuff all right, Ben," he said, "bear a hand and we'll drag it out. Only be very careful of it. It is probably a high explosive if not handled delicately."
One by one the boxes were transferred until two dozen of them stood on the beach, set in soft sand. Then a sudden difficulty flashed into Frank's mind. Constantio had said "equal parts of sand, water and the powder," but he had not said how much these equal parts were to be. The only thing to do was to experiment.
Fortunately the massive steel cylinders, in which the gas was to be generated, were provided with gauges to register the pressure. One thousand pounds were marked as top measure, so Frank assumed that somewhere about 800 pounds would be enough.
The first mixture they tried only registered three hundred pounds, but by gradually increasing the amount of powder they at last hit upon the required strength, and were ready to start on the work of inflation.
They had six cylinders full of the gas. Not enough to fully inflate the bag, but enough, Frank calculated, to render it sufficiently buoyant to carry the reduced weight it would be called upon to convey now that the crew was gone.
The inflation nozzle was connected with cylinder after cylinder, till the bag became so buoyant that it was necessary to weight the machine down with heavy stones. At last the cylinders were emptied and the great bag, expanded by the warm sun, swelled up till it seemed it must burst. The expansion of gas by the sun was one of the things Frank had counted on when filling the bag, and he was glad to see his theories work out right. The treasure bags were hastily laden on to the craft and then the boys, standing on the lower framework, one on each side, while Ben stood in the pilot-house, started to kick off the weights that restrained the ship from rising.
They had not cast off more than half a dozen before the ship gave a mighty bound upward that threatened to throw them off her frames and before they could catch their breath they had shot up 1,200 feet or more. Hastily clambering aboard and laughing at the sudden jump, the boys got the engine going and shaped a course that would bring them over the spot where they had left the Bolo.
They held steadily on their course that day and the next. Early in the morning of the second they encountered a surprising incident. Frank, who was on lookout, hailed "Air-ship ahead."
And there, sure enough, heading northward, was a big red dirigible coming toward them like the wind.
As they drew near, a man with a megaphone appeared on her bridge and signaled that he wanted to hail them. Frank shut down the engine and the two air-ships drew alongside.
"What ship is that?" hailed the man on the bridge of the red air-ship, who wore yachting flannels as did his three companions.
"The Luther Barr of New York," responded Frank for lack of a better name.
"We are the Dos Hermanos, five days out from Cuba, bound for Jacksonville, Florida," was the response, "can you spare us any bread?"
"Come alongside," responded Frank in a hearty tone, "and we'll give you some tins of pilot bread."
"Bully for you," responded the red air-ship man.
The two dirigibles drifted together and the boys handed over some tins of pilot bread or ship biscuit with which the larder of the Luther Barr, as Frank had called her, was well provided.
"Thank-you," shouted the men on the red dirigible, as the lines were cast off, "good-bye and good luck."
"Same to you," hailed the boys, as the engines were started. An hour later the red dirigible had vanished on its voyage to the north.
"Well," said Frank, "that's the first time I've ever heard of 'ships that pass in air and speak to each other in passing.' I'm glad we were able to help a fellow voyager out."
Frank's observations that day showed that they could not be far from the spot from where the Bolo had been left, but eager scrutiny failed to reveal her till almost sundown, when Ben's sharp eyes spied her—little more than a tiny black object on the horizon.
"There she is," he hailed.
Frank's binoculars soon confirmed the good tidings.
But as they neared the Bolo an astonishing thing happened.
Through the glasses they saw a form they recognized as Bluewater Bill's come out on the deck and gaze at them in amazement, to judge from the way he threw his arms about.
Presently he was joined by two other figures that the boys recognized as Billy Barnes and Lathrop.
Harry impetuously rushed to the rail, oblivious of the fact that at that distance the boys could not hear him, and shouted at the top of his voice.
"Hullo, Billy, hullo, Lathrop, hullo, Bill!"
It was then that the surprise was sprung. Frank through the glasses saw Bluewater Bill raise a rifle to his shoulder, and take deliberate aim at the dirigible. The bullet sang by the pilot-house chipping off a bit of molding.
"What on earth is the matter with them, have they gone crazy?" exclaimed Harry.
Frank was as puzzled as his brother for a minute, but suddenly the meaning of this inexplicable conduct burst upon him.
"They think we are Luther Barr! The sight of the dirigible has deceived them," he cried.
"I'll bet that's the right explanation," cried Harry, "how are we to undeceive them without getting our heads shot off?"
"I have it," cried Frank, diving into his pocket and bringing out a rumpled bit of silk, "that's the old Golden Eagle flag. I saved it when we had to abandon her."
Ben seized it from the boy's hand and ran to the rail with it, waving the bit of silk furiously. Evidently the occupants of the Bolo saw and recognized it, for they stopped their threatening demonstrations and began waving furiously.
As they hovered above the Bolo, Frank shouted as much explanation as he could through the megaphone, and then told the Boloites to be ready to make fast a line. This done a tackle was rigged and one by one, amid great cheering on Billy Barnes' part, the sacks of treasure were lowered.
This task accomplished, there remained but one thing for the boys on board the dirigible to do—namely to get on board the Bolo. The gas-bag was deflated by means of the escape valve till the big dirigible was but a few feet above the Bolo, and then the adventurers slid down the rope on to the smaller vessel's deck. There being no way of transporting the dirigible, she was allowed to drift away.
What greetings, handshakings, dances and yarn spinning took place then, we will leave our readers to imagine. Early next day, after it had been agreed that two-thirds of the treasure was to be divided among Bluewater Bill, Frank and Harry, and the remainder in even parts to Billy Lathrop and Ben Stubbs, anchor was got up and the Bolo headed for the Florida coast. The young adventurers meant to head for St. Augustine and then take train to New York, sending the Bolo back to Galveston with a hired crew.
They had but one regret—the loss of the gallant Golden Eagle. How she was recovered will be related in another volume, but restored to them she was.
"I'm glad we came through with such flying colors," said Harry to Frank one evening, while the boys were all seated on the foredeck, "but I hate to think our adventures are all over."
"I don't suppose we shall have any more for awhile," sighed Billy
Barnes, "it seems to me we've done about all that's possible."
Frank laughed.
"With the money we can make from the sale of the treasure, we can build another aeroplane and have lots of good times," he said, "we might even try a transcontinental flight."
"From New York to Frisco—bully," exclaimed Billy Barnes.
"Do you think that you really could make such a flight, Frank?" asked
Lathrop.
To satisfy the curiosity of others like Lathrop, we will say that not only could the boys make the flight but that they did, and had a series of surprising adventures in connection with it.
It now only remains to tell of the conclusion of Luther Barr's vain quest for the treasure. Perhaps an item from a New York newspaper best covers the ground. The clipping we have selected reads as follows:
"Luther Barr's yacht, Brigand, returned to-day and thus cleared up some of the mystery connected with her long sojourn in Southern waters. Seen on board her, Mr. Barr declined to be interviewed or to tell anything about his absence, which has created some stir on Wall Street. Asked if he were still interested in aeronautics, he became furiously angry and threatened to have the reporter thrown overboard. Mr. Barr said he had not heard anything about the remarkable discoveries on a derelict Spanish galleon made by Frank and Harry Chester, the Boy Aviators, and a party of adventurers who accompanied them, and of which a full account was printed in these columns some days ago, on the safe arrival of the boys from St. Augustine, Fla. Frank Chester said yesterday that there was nothing to add to our article as printed, except that the valuables recovered had realized more than $500,000."
And here for the present we will leave our young friends to renew our acquaintance with them in the next volume of this series, which will be called: