“Blade cracked, nothing serious,” instantly announced the pilot of the Ariel.
The machine had been hit in turning shorewards with a big wind blast that boomed like a cannon, and bore down upon it heavily. They felt the machine shiver and swerve, and there was some lateral flapping. Dave, however, kept steadily on back over the course he had so recently won.
It took twenty minutes to overlap the shore line. They made out a harbor and upon the pier at its end the flag of the life-saving service.
“You won’t lose time landing, Dave?” spoke Hiram anxiously. “We might catch up yet.”
“Got to land,” reported Dave. “We can’t risk the blade snapping.”
The Ariel was directed across a flat sandy reach near the end of the pier. Dave sprang out instantly and ran towards two men who had watched the descent.
“Schooner in distress,” he announced briskly to the men. “I think she is sinking.”
“Where away?” was inquired.
Dave described the position of the imperiled vessel as best he could. The men ran down the pier. Almost immediately a signal bell tolled, and a steam yacht, and two lifeboats, set out on their mission of rescue.
Dave had hurried back to the Ariel. He had the machine overhauled in a trice. One blade was seriously damaged. Those on the Ariel were of hard spruce wood, with a filling of mahogany. The lower veneer had stripped off and was dangling.