Motor Boat Boys Among the Florida Keys; Or, The Struggle for the Leadership. Arundel Louis
Jimmy, will you, boys?” chuckled Jack. “Look at the grin on his face as he pulls his line in. You can see that half his fun is in keeping an eye on Nick, to enjoy his confusion and disappointment.”
“Wow! why, the fish is pulling his boat around, do you notice?” demanded George.
“That looks as if it might be a good one. There, I thought Jimmy couldn’t keep still much longer. Listen to him yap, would you?” Herb called out.
Jimmy had started to crow over his rival, as any ordinary boy would be apt to do under similar conditions.
“Don’t be after gettin’ downhearted too soon, Nick, me bhoy!” he shouted. “Sure, this is only a little one for a stharter, so it is. Wait till I get going, and I’ll open your eyes good and sthrong. Och! how he pulls! If only ye were a bit closer now, I’d let ye fale of the line, to know the sensation. Come in, ye darlint, and let’s have a look at ye. Whirra! but he’s bigger than I thought; and it’s me as hopes he won’t upset the boat when I pull him over the side!”
Of course much of this talk was for the purpose of making his rival squirm with envy; though the captive did show signs of being a strong fighter.
After about five minutes of apparently strenuous effort, Jimmy concluded that it would be unwise to risk losing his prisoner by playing it longer; so he dragged the hooked fish over the side. There was a flash of bronze and white that told Jack the story.
“A channel bass, and something like fifteen pounds in weight, too. We’re sure of fish on this trip, anyway, with the two of them bending every energy to the winning of the medal!” he exclaimed.
“There goes Nick back to his work,” said George. “If there are fish here, he hopes to get his share. But ten to one he’s nearly choking with envy right now, because Jimmy drew the first blood. It’s an uphill game for poor old Nick.”
“Well,” Herb went on to remark, “the game will last a whole month, and more; so nobody can tell how the finish may turn out. Nick might get hold of a bigger fish any minute. But it’s up to us to encourage ’em right along. We’ll never want for a fish diet if we do, for they’ll stay up nights to keep at it.”
“There, I declare, if Nick didn’t have a jerk at his line then; but he failed to hook the rascal!” Jack exclaimed.
“And came near upsetting the boat in his excitement, too,” complained George. “If he does, I can see the finish of my oars, which will go out of the inlet with the ebb tide.”
“But what about Nick; you don’t seem to worry about how he’ll act?” laughed Herb.
“Oh! he’ll just float around, with that life preserver holding him up, till one of us pushes out and tows him ashore. Whatever is he doing now, do you suppose?” George demanded.
“Throwing out that shark hook of his, with the clothes line attached,” Jack explained. “You see, Nick has evidently made up his mind to go in for something worth while. He wants to knock the spots out of Jimmy’s hopes right in the start.”
“But, my stars! if he hooks a big shark while he’s sitting in that punkin seed of a boat, there’s bound to be a warm old circus!” Herb declared.
Some little time passed, and those aboard the anchored motor boats, busily engaged in their various occupations, had almost forgotten about the bitter rivalry going on so near by, when suddenly they were startled by a great shout.
“It’s Nick, this time!” exclaimed Jack, as he jumped to the side of the Tramp to observe what was taking place.
“And say, he’s fast to a whopper, as sure as you live!” cried Herb.
George added his contribution on the heels of the rest.
“That string’s broke away, just as I expected, and there goes Nick and the punkin seed, full tilt for the inlet! By all that’s out, fellows, he must have caught a whale that time, fresh run from the sea. Hi! hold on there, Nick, that’s my boat!”
CHAPTER II.
THE WARNING RATTLE
Jack Stormways was a quick-witted lad. He had proved this fact on numerous occasions in the past, within the memory of his chums.
When anything sudden happened, while others might appear to be spellbound, and waste precious seconds in staring, Jack was very apt to be on the jump, and doing.
So in the present instance, while it might appear more or less comical, seeing the fat boy crouched in that silly little boat belonging to the Wireless, and being dragged through the water at a most rapid rate by the shark he had hooked, there was always an element of danger connected with the affair.
And so Jack, after taking that one look out over the water, sprang forward, and started dragging his anchor aboard with all possible speed. That done, he next applied himself to getting power on the boat, which fortunately could be done with a simple turning over of the engine.
“Hello! are you going to chase the runaway with the Tramp?” cried Herb, who was in the act of climbing over the side into his tender, as though meaning to put out in pursuit himself.
“Yes; jump aboard here, Herb; I might need help!” came the answer; and, accustomed to respecting Jack’s judgment, the one addressed managed to clamber over the side of the Tramp just as that craft started off.
Meanwhile Nick was going at a great rate, not in a direct line for the inlet, but following jerky, eccentric angles, as though the shark hardly knew what to do, on feeling the contact with the point of the big hook at the end of the chain.
Several times the fat boy seemed on the point of creeping forward to get at the rope that was fastened to a cleat in the bow of the dinky. It was George who roared at him on such occasions.
“Keep still, Nick; sit down, can’t you? You’ll upset sure, if you don’t lie flat! Jack’s coming out after you on the jump! Hey, look out there, Jimmy, or you’ll get foul, too! Whew! what a race horse you’ve got fast to, Nick. If only you could land him, Jimmy’s name would be Mud. There he goes again, heading for the bar! Look at the water shooting up on either side of that dandy little boat, would you? And ain’t Nick having the ride of his life, though? There he goes, crawling along up to the bow again. Perhaps he wants to cut loose; small blame to him if he does!”
Everybody was either laughing, or shouting advice to Nick, while this exciting little drama was taking place.
Indeed, Nick himself seemed to be the only one who was not getting some measure of fun out of the affair. His usually red face looked pale, as he managed to reach the squatty bow of the little boat. But when he found that it was dragged down by the action of the fish, as well as his own weight, he drew back again in alarm, for water had come rushing aboard.
Once the motor boat got started, of course it speedily came up with the runaway. Jack had given the wheel into the charge of Herb, who was fully competent to run things. This allowed the other an opportunity to do anything that offered, looking to the rescue of poor frightened Nick.
“Get me out of this, won’t you, Jack? I don’t like it one little bit,” pleaded the fat boy; and then, as some new freak on the part of the shark caused the dinky to lunge sideways in a fearful manner, he shouted in new alarm: “Quit it, you ugly beast! Who wants to nab you now? I pass, I tell you! Let go, and get out of this! Wow! look at him splash the water, Jack, would you?”
“He wanted to take a look at you, that’s all,” Jack called out. “Don’t you think you’d better cut loose, and let your hook go, Nick?”
“I ain’t got any knife; it went overboard the first thing. Besides,” added the occupant of the dinky, who was now once more crouching in the stern, “if I go up there, the water just pours in. I’m sitting in it right now. Jack, can’t you think of some way to make him leave me alone?”
“Perhaps I might,” came the reply, as the skipper of the Tramp dodged back into the hunting cabin of his boat.
He almost immediately reappeared again, holding a rope in