The Boy Aviators' Polar Dash Part 6

"Ay, ay, sir," was all he said.

"I have a proposition to make to you," continued the captain. "We need a bos'n, will you sign on? If you do not care to we will put you ash.o.r.e at the first convenient port or hail a homeward-bound s.h.i.+p and have you transferred."

The old sailor looked positively hurt.

"What; me lose an opportunity to see the South Pole, to shoot Polar bears--"

"There aren't any," put in Billy.

"Wall, whatever kind of critters there are there," went on the old man, "no, sir; Ben Stubbs ain't the man to hold back on a venture like this. Sign me on as bos'n, and if I don't help nail Uncle Sam's colors to the South Pole call me a doodle-bug."

"A doodle-bug," exclaimed Professor Sandburr, "What kind of a bug is that? If you know where to find them I hope you will catch one and forward it to me."

Ben grinned.

"I guess doodle-bugs is like South Polar bears," he said.

"How is that, my dear sea-faring friend?"

"There ain't any," laughed Ben, blotting his big, scrawling signature on the s.h.i.+p's books.

On and on toward the Pole plied the Southern Cross. One night when she was about two hundred miles at sea off the mouth of the Amazon, the boys, as it was one of the soft tropical nights peculiar to those regions, were all grouped forward trying to keep cool and keeping a sharp lookout for the real Southern Cross. This wonderful, heavenly body might be expected to be visible almost any night now, Captain Hazzard had told them. Old Ben shared their watch.

The little group was seated right on the forefoot or "over-hang" of the polar s.h.i.+p, their legs dangling over the bow above the water.

Beneath their feet they could see the bright phosphorous gleam as the s.h.i.+p ploughed onward. They were rather silent. In fact, except for desultory conversation, the throb of the engines and the regular sounding of the s.h.i.+p's bell as it marked the hours were the only sounds to be heard.

It was past eight bells and everyone on the s.h.i.+p but the helmsman had turned in, leaving the boys and Ben on watch, when there came a terrific shock that caused the vessel to quiver and creak as if she had run bow on into solid land. Captain Hazzard was thrown from his bunk and all over the vessel there was the wildest confusion.

Shouts and cries filled the air as Captain Hazzard, not able to imagine what had happened rushed out on deck in his night clothes. The sky had become overcast and it was terribly black. It was hardly possible for one to see his hand before his face. A heavy sulphurous smell was in the air.

"What is it? What has happened? Did we hit another s.h.i.+p?" shouted Captain Barrington, appearing from his cabin.

The helmsman could give no explanation. There had been a sudden shock and he had been knocked off his feet. What had struck the s.h.i.+p or what she had struck he could not make out. Captain Barrington knew there were no rocks so far out at sea and he also knew that he could not be near land. The only explanation was a collision with another s.h.i.+p, but had that been the case surely, he argued, they would have heard shouts and cries on the other vessel.

"Send forward for the boys and Ben Stubbs, they had the watch," he commanded.

A man hurried forward to execute his order but he was soon back with a white scared face.

"The young lads and Bos'n Stubbs aren't there," he exclaimed in a frightened tone.

"Not there," repeated Captain Hazzard.

"No, sir. Not a trace of them. Beggin' your pardon, sir, I think it's ghosts."

"Don't talk nonsense," sharply commanded his superior. "Have the s.h.i.+p searched for them."

"Very good, sir," and the man, with a tug at his forelock, hastened away to spread the word.

But a search of every nook and cranny of the s.h.i.+p only added to the mystery.

Neither the boys nor Ben were to be found.

Had ghosts indeed s.n.a.t.c.hed them into aerial regions, as some of the more superst.i.tious men seemed inclined to believe they could not have vanished more utterly.

CHAPTER VI.

A STRANGE COLLISION.

We must now turn back and ascertain what has become of our young adventurers and their rugged old companion. We left them sitting on the bow--or rather perched there in positions none too secure in case of a sudden lurch of the s.h.i.+p.

"I smell land," had been Ben's sudden exclamation after one of the prolonged silences which, as has been said, possessed them that night.

The boys laughed.

"Laugh away," declared Ben, "but I do. Any old sailor can tell it."

"But we are two hundred miles at sea," objected Frank.

"Don't make no difference, I smell land," stubbornly repeated the old sailor.

"Maybe the wind is off sh.o.r.e and that's the reason," suggested Billy.

"A sensible suggestion, youngster," approved Ben. "I guess that is the reason for there is no island in this part of the world that I ever heard tell of. But say," he broke off suddenly, "what's come over the weather. It's getting black and the stars are blotted out. There's a storm brewing and a bad one, or I'm mistaken."

The boys agreed that there did seem to be every indication of an approaching tropical disturbance of some kind. The air had suddenly grown heavy and sulphurous. There was an oppressive quality in it.

"I'm going aft to tell the captain that there's a bad blow coming on or I'm a Dutchman," exclaimed Ben, starting to scramble to his feet.

"Better hold onto that stay or you'll topple overboard," warned Frank, as Ben, balancing himself, got into a standing posture.

"What me, an old sailor topple over," shouted Ben, "Not much younker, why I--"

The sentence was never finished. At that instant the shock that had aroused Captain Hazzard and terrified the whole s.h.i.+p's company hurled him headlong into the night and the boys, balanced as they were on the prow of the trembling s.h.i.+p, were shot after him into the darkness as if they had been hurled out of catapults.

Frank's feelings as he fell through the darkness he could not afterward describe, still less his amazement when, instead of falling into the sea, fully prepared to swim for his life, he found himself instead plunged into a sticky ooze. For several seconds, in fact, he was too amazed to utter a sound or move. It seemed he must be dreaming.

Then he extended his hands and almost gave a cry so great was his amazement.

He had encountered an unmistakable tree trunk!

He was on land--not dry land--for the boy was mired to the knees in sticky mud,--but nevertheless land. Land in midocean.

Hardly had he recovered from his first shock of surprise when he heard a voice exclaim:

"Can anyone tell me am I awake or dreaming in my bunk?"