Matt dropped over the side quickly, in order to get into the boat before the Hawk should drift away from it. He succeeded in carrying out his design and, still clinging to the rope, stepped from the gunwale of the skiff to one of the midship thwarts and then into the stern.
There was nothing in the boat to show who the occupant had been. A bailing tin lay in the bottom, but there was absolutely nothing else in the skiff apart from the iron chest.
"Work quickly, old ship!" Ferral called down. "The wind is freshening and we'll be blown away from you if you don't hustle."
Swiftly, Motor Matt secured the end of the rope to one of the iron handles.
"Haul away," said he, stepping back.
Carl and Dick seized the rope and began to pull. The chest rose slowly into the air; and then, when it was lifted about half way, one of the sudden gusts of wind which the Hawk had been encountering all along the Gulf coast struck the air ship, and she leaped sideways nearly to the shore of the river.
Carl and Dick secured the rope frantically. While the chest continued to swing below the car, Dick jumped into the levers and got the propeller going. This gave him a better command of the air ship and he attempted to manœuvre the craft back and into Matt's vicinity.
Again and again he tried, but, as the wind was now high and shifting quickly from one quarter to another, no success attended his efforts.
"Take the chest aboard," Matt cried, standing up in the skiff and making a trumpet of his hands, "and go on to town. Berth the Hawk on one of the docks, if you can, and, if you can't, make a landing farther inland. I'll follow you."
There was nothing else to be done, and Matt watched the Hawk bear away up the river, Dick at the motor and Carl heaving in the chest by slow degrees.