The Boy Aviators in Africa Part 33

He examined the gauges. They showed sixty pounds of steam still in the boilers.

"Not much--but enough," was Frank's comment. He then turned to two valve wheels on the working platform and started to screw them up.

"What in the world are you doing?" asked Harry.

"Closing the sea-c.o.c.ks which were opened by Al Davis, the former bos'n, in revenge for a blow Luther Barr struck him when the s.h.i.+p went aground," was Frank's astonis.h.i.+ng reply.

"But how in thunder do you know about that?"

"Davis told me while you were trying to get something out of those fellows who were all gabbling at once."

"And when you have closed up the sea-c.o.c.ks?"

"Then I shall start the centrifugal pumps going to empty the engine-room, and we'll soon have her as sound as a dollar."

Luckily the water had not, as Frank had surmised, reached the fires, and though low there was enough pressure of steam to run the pumps till the boys were able to work in the stoke-hold. Then both boys set to work with a will and soon had the furnaces going full-blast, and the steam gauges registered seventy, then eighty and then one hundred and fifty pounds.

"There, that will do," exclaimed Frank, as, pretty well tuckered out, they threw aside their shovels. "Now we have to wait for the tide and reinforcements."

They had not long to wait.

Of course at the height the tide now was the reef was pretty well covered and it would have been impossible to make a landing in the air-s.h.i.+p, so Billy had chartered the power launch of the friend who had sold them the gasoline.

Ben Stubbs and Sikaso, who had arrived late that' afternoon, were on board the little craft and Ben's loud "Ahoy!" brought the Boy Aviators to the rail on the jump--waving and shouting greetings.

But there were others in the launch, and among them the boys spied several faces of bronzed men who looked thorough seamen. M.

Desplaines, who was in the launch, explained that they had formed part of the crew of a steamer that had been wrecked down the coast some weeks previously. They had been waiting for a s.h.i.+p and were willing to work their pa.s.sage home: to New York. Among them was their captain, a good seaman and a former yacht skipper.

"But--but," said Frank amazedly, as the men piled on board and the boys all shook hands madly with everybody. "We can't take this yacht--it isn't ours, we have no right."

M. Desplaines held out a piece of paper; smiling as he did so. It was covered with writing in Luther Barr's cramped hand and was a characteristic doc.u.ment. Stripped of its legal phraseology it was an agreement to the effect that if the boys would make no salvage charges for saving the yacht, they could have her free of cost to sail back to New York.

"But," said Frank, "how did he know we intended to save her?"

"'The man Davis got boisterously drunk and when arrested admitted that the yacht was in no danger and that he had flooded her stoke-hold out of revenge," explained M. Desplaines.

"In that case, why does not Mr. Barr come back to New York on her?"

demanded Frank.

The consular agent smiled.

"He thinks he is on the track of more ivory and has already engaged part of an expedition," he replied. "To tell you the truth, his anxiety to save expense on the yacht has had quite as much to do with his loaning her to you as anything else. He expects you to pay the crew. If you wish to go back to New York on this yacht I will have your aeroplane dismantled and forwarded by freight."

"Well," laughed Frank, "will we, boys?"

"I should say we will!" came in a chorus.

"And steam back to old New York?"

"You bet."

As Frank had antic.i.p.ated, at flood-tide the yacht was backed off under her own power and then came the time for farewells--and warm ones they were. To Sikaso the boys presented a rifle and an automatic revolver as the n.o.ble old fellow would not hear of taking money. The last glimpse they had of their black friend, as the yacht headed due west for America, he was standing gloomily in the stern of the launch--one hand on his faithful axe and the other raised against the blue sky as if in benediction.

"Well," said Frank, as the distance shut out the picture, "we are bound for home at last."

"What ever will they say when they hear of our adventures?" cried Harry.

"And the recovery of the ivory?" chimed in Lathrop, "my father's business is saved. We must cable from the Canaries of our success."

"And the narrative of George Desmond and our own experiences with the Flying Men?" chimed in Billy.

"Oh, you'll have to can that rarebit dream!" cried Harry.

"I will not!" exclaimed Billy indignantly. "I'm going to print it."

"On the funny page maybe. I'd like to see the newspaper that would publish such a yarn."

Alas for poor Billy! Harry was right.

n.o.body would believe his strange tale and last he grew tired of telling it, and even to hardly credit it himself.

As for George Desmond's time-yellowed pages they repose in the Smithsonian Inst.i.tute, and after a learned wrangle between savants of all countries--lasting many months--it was agreed that the poor explorer must have lost his mind and that the narrative of the Flying Men was the offspring of a brain crazed by suffering.

"It's a strange termination to our adventures to be steaming home on Barr's yacht," said Frank, after a long pause in which they had all gazed back at the fast dimming sh.o.r.e of the Dark Continent.

"I should say so," cried Lathrop. "It's as near as I ever want to get to him, too."

"Same here," joined in Billy, "but I don't suppose we shall ever hear from him again."

But Billy was wrong.

The boys did hear from Luther Barr again and in an extraordinary manner. The malevolent old man was to be the cause of some surprising adventures in which the boys at the risk of their lives were once more pitted against powerful enemies.

With what flying colors they emerged from their dangers, difficulties and adventures will be told in the next volume of this series--"THE BOY AVIATORS' TREASURE QUEST; or THE GOLDEN GALLEON."

THE END