“and I guess he has a host of them here and abroad; for he’s wealthy, and interested in all sorts of scientific matters. They say that at his city house in the winter he entertains, at times, all the big guns from the different colleges of the world.”
“Which reminds me, Rob. There was an odd twang in this old fellow’s manner of speech that made me think of Sandy Ferguson, the Scotchman who has the bagpipes, you remember, and always insists in marching in all the parades in Hampton.”
“Then, perhaps, he’s some famous Scotch professor,” observed the skipper of the Tramp, “who wants to see the judge so much that he’s chased away out here to his summer home on invitation.”
“He has a red face, wears big glasses, and is scrawny enough for a Scotchman, anyway,” chuckled Andy, “but do you know I always like to listen to one of the Highland folks talk. It was the ‘burr’ in his speech that made me stop and listen as far as I did. He’s got it down pat, Rob.”
“Don’t say anything more now, Andy; we’re drawing up pretty close, and he might not like it if he thought we were talking about him. That old motor does make lots of noise, but sometimes it misses, and then there’s a lapse, you know.”
“But they’re heading straight for the Point where the Collins Castle is located, you notice, Rob, so I guess Cap. Jerry is ferrying him across. I only hope the old tub doesn’t take a notion to founder before it gets to the dock a mile away from here.”
“Oh! it’s stood lots of pounding, and only has to be bailed out frequently on account of leaking like a sieve,” Rob said in a low tone. “Jerry has all that down to a fine point, and just once in so often he gets busy and lowers the bilge water with the pump he keeps rigged handy.”
“Excuse me from running around in such a trap,” muttered Andy, who was rather inclined to be “fussy” with regard to everything he handled, and tried to have his possessions kept up to top-notch condition – what he himself called “apple-pie shape.”
“The professor is like most Englishmen, for he loves his pipe,” remarked Rob, as he watched the passenger aboard the old launch filling his little black pipe with tobacco taken from a rubber pouch. “I hope, when he strikes that match, and then throws it away after lighting up, he knows enough about motorboats to see that it goes overboard, and not into the bottom of the craft. Sometimes a leak will spread a film of gasolene over the bilge water, and there’s always more or less danger of an explosion.”
“Yes,” added Andy seriously, “there have been a number on the bay the last three seasons, and two people that I can remember were so badly burned that they died after being rescued.”
Both of the boys watched with more or less interest, and possibly with suspended breath, while the red-faced passenger in Captain Jerry’s old launch puffed several times at his pipe, then tossed the match aside.
“Oh! it didn’t go overboard, for a fact, Rob!” gasped Andy; but there was no time to say another word, for suddenly they saw a flash of flame spring up aboard the old Sea Gull, and in an instant it seemed as though the launch was aflame from stem to stern!
CHAPTER II
PROMPT WORK, AND A RESCUE
Fortunately Rob Blake had wonderful presence of mind in a sudden emergency. Some boys would have been so badly shocked by what was happening near at hand, that for the time being, they must have been unable to make any move toward rendering first aid to the afflicted.
No sooner did the leader of the Eagle Patrol see that terrible outburst of fire than he started his little motor on at full speed, heading straight toward the imperiled launch.
“Quick! get hold of that fire extinguisher we carry!” he called out to his companion, who was staring, with open mouth and awe-filled eyes, at the scene of commotion close by.
“But, Rob, will the fluid put out a gasolene fire?” exclaimed Andy, though at the same time hastening to throw back the lid of a locker and snatch out the brass tube which had been lying there for just such a time of sudden need.
“Yes, that’s one of its best uses,” Rob told him hastily. “It seems to form a coating over everything it touches that the fire can’t break through. It kills fire. That’s where it gets its name. Be ready now to make use of it when we come up as close as I dare go.”
“Both of the men are overboard, Rob!” announced Andy excitedly, “and hanging on to the side of the boat. Wow! but isn’t she blazing, though? I can begin to feel the fierce heat even here!”
“Ready to get busy now!” cried the skipper, as he manipulated his engine in such a way as to reverse the propeller, and bring the Tramp to a stop close to the blazing launch.
Andy was no coward, and could keep a pretty level head when it came down to doing things; though often he had to be told what to attempt by someone more masterful than himself. As soon as Rob shouted to him to start operations, he worked the fire extinguisher with might and main, and was considerably astonished to discover that just as Rob had said, wherever the magical fluid struck, it seemed to dishearten the conflagration, for the flames immediately died out.
“Whoop! it’s doing the whole business, that’s right, Rob!” cried the pleased amateur fire-fighter, as he continued to make judicious use of his apparatus. “Why, I tell you nothing can hold out, Rob, against this dandy contraption. Look at it do the work, will you? Oh! it’s sure worth its weight in gold when you need something to save your boat with.”
Indeed, to judge from the magical way in which the threatening fire was extinguished aboard the old launch, Rob Blake had certainly made no mistake when he purchased that little fire-fighting contrivance, even though it did cost him close on ten dollars.
Rob, seeing that all danger of the fire communicating to the Tramp was now past, slowly started toward the other boat. His intention was to rescue the two elderly men who were in the water. To tell the truth, Rob was very much afraid the passenger may have been seriously burned, and that in his panic he might release his frenzied grip on the gunwale of the boat.
It turned out otherwise, however, for Scotch grit held good, and Rob soon had the satisfaction of helping both men aboard the Tramp.
They had received a number of burns, and presented rather a peculiar appearance, since their eyebrows and beards had been badly singed.
“Fire’s all out, Rob!” announced Andy, at this juncture.
“Then fix it so that we can tow the Sea Gull behind us,” the other told him, “and we’ll change our course for the Collins Point yonder.”
“It is verra kind of ye to go to all that trouble,” remarked the elderly man, looking the young skipper of the rescuing boat over from head to toe, “and I wull not be the one to forget the favor, I assure you, my fine laddie.”
“I hope you are not seriously burned, sir?” remarked Rob, who saw that there were signs of the other’s clothes having been afire before he tumbled overboard, possibly urged to this last resort through the energetic efforts of old Captain Jerry Martin.
“I sincerely hope not myself,” replied the other, as he felt of his body, and then put up a hand to his blackened face. “I believe I’ve been well singed, and that until I grow a new crop of eyebrows I will look like a scorched rat; which is verra unfortunate, since I am on a most important errand over in your country. But, indeed, I should be ashamed to complain, for it might have been a deal worse.”
“And
