“Yes, with a couple of people on it. Looks like a raft from a wrecked ship. I think they are castaways. Can’t we rescue them, Tom?”
The young inventor came limping out of his cabin to look down at the sea. Rising and falling on the heaving swells below the Air Monarch was a big raft, on which were two men waving frantically to those sailing above their heads in the airship. Faintly their cries floated up, for the Air Monarch was flying low.
“Help! Help!” the castaways shouted.
CHAPTER XXIII
THERE SHE BLOWS!
Tom Swift for a moment was torn between duty and ambition.
His machine was winging along at wonderful speed and he was beginning to make up for much time lost. To slow up, descend and rescue these two on the raft meant more delay—a delay that would be dangerous to his chances of winning the prize. He did not know how many or what other ships, whether of the air or the sea, containing his rivals, might be ahead of him or close behind.
But it was for only a moment that Tom hesitated. He gave one look down at the despairing, helpless men on the raft and cried to Ned:
“We’ll go down!”
Ned knew, as well as Tom, what this might mean.
As the young inventor sprang into the motor room to give the order to Hartman, who was on duty, he practically gave up all hope of winning the race. Yet he had no regrets.