Dorothy's Triumph

On one side lay Brooklyn, on the other Jersey City, while about them craft of all shapes and sizes puffed and snorted as they performed their daily tasks.

On down into the lower bay the yacht went skimming, breasting the heavy swells of the Atlantic, and causing exclamations of delight from both Molly and Dorothy, neither of whom had ever been this far at sea.

Down between the upper quarantine and the Staten Island shore they went at a speed of twelve knots, then, rounding the lower quarantine, stood straight for Rockaway Beach.

It was too early in the season for any of the resorts to be open, hence the girls were unable to view the scenes of activity that make these famous places the mecca of the bathers in the warm season.

“I imagine I should like to spend a summer here,” said Dorothy.

“And perhaps some of these days you will have the opportunity – who knows?” remarked Aunt Betty.

“Well, when she comes I must be included in the party or there will be big trouble,” Molly put in.

“Lots of trouble you’d make your best chum, young lady,” replied Aunt Betty, chucking the Judge’s daughter playfully under the chin.

After a run of some twenty minutes, the yacht again turned, this time nosing its way back along the coast toward the lower bay.

“In a few moments, I will show you Brighton and Manhattan Beaches,” said Dr. Sterling – “also the famous Coney Island of which you have heard so much.”

“I should dearly love to visit Coney,” said Dorothy.

“I have been there twice,” said Molly, proudly, “and it is a veritable city of wonders. I have never been able to understand how a brain can conceive all those funny things which amuse you.”

“Great brains are capable of many things in these days,” Jim said.

“Oh, are they now, my noble philosopher?”

“Yes, Miss Saucy, they are!”

“What’s that stretch of water east of us, with all the little islands in it?” asked Dorothy, suddenly.

“That is Jamaica Bay,” replied Mr. Ronald. “It lies across the peninsula from Rockaway Beach.”

“I thought Jamaica was in the West Indies, or some other forsaken spot,” said Molly.

“Come, come,” chided Dr. Sterling. “Remember your geography.”

“You certainly ought to know where the ginger comes from,” said Jim, in the same bantering spirit.

“Well, I guess I do, if anybody asks you, Mr. Barlow,” she returned, saucily. “But that’s no sign I knew there was a Jamaica Bay in New York State. My geography didn’t teach me that.”

“Of course it did,” taunted the boy, “but you did not take the trouble to remember it.”

Further discussion of this unimportant subject was cut short by a crash from the engine-room of the yacht, followed by a hissing noise as of escaping steam, and the propeller, which was being driven at many thousands of revolutions per minute, began suddenly to slow up.

A shriek from Aunt Betty drew Dorothy quickly to her side, while Mr. Ronald cried out:

“Something has happened to the engine!”

Then he made a dash below decks, followed by Dr. Sterling, and, a few seconds later, by Jim, who saw in the yacht’s misfortune another opportunity to satisfy his mechanical curiosity.

The boy reached the engine-room directly on the heels of Mr. Ronald and Dr. Sterling, and saw the engineer and his assistant flat on their backs trying to locate the trouble.

“Something apparently broke inside her, sir,” the engineer was saying, in response to a question from Mr. Ronald. “I can’t say how serious it is till we find it, sir.”

“Then of course you do not know how long we shall be delayed?”

“No; I couldn’t say, sir. Can’t even promise that we can run in on one pair of cylinders, sir, for they all seem to be affected alike.”

At this a shadow overspread the owner’s face and he turned to Dr. Sterling.

“Sorry, Doc,” he said. “What did you tell me about getting to town before dark?”

“I merely mentioned the fact that Miss Calvert should be early to bed, because she appears at a concert to-morrow evening, and it is necessary that she feel as well as possible.”

“It is after four now,” said Mr. Ronald, looking at his watch, “and I don’t know what to tell you until Sharley – that’s my engineer – locates the trouble.”

“Then perhaps we had better withhold from those on deck the fact that there may be an indefinite delay, merely making the general statement that the trouble is being rectified as rapidly as possible.”

“Very well; will you tell them, and make my excuses? I shall want to stay pretty close here till this trouble is found.”

“I’ll tell them,” said the doctor, and motioning Jim to follow went on deck. So the news which, poorly told, might have brought consternation to Dorothy and her aunt, merely aroused their curiosity. Soon they were laughing and talking with all thoughts of the accident gone from their minds.

Meanwhile, below, Mr. Ronald, Sharley and the assistant engineer, were going over every inch of the gasoline motors, hoping to find what had been the cause of their sudden refusal to do their work.

Screws were tightened and several other minor matters remedied. Then Sharley signaled the pilot house that he was going to try her again. Having tested his batteries with the buzzer, and adjusted the timer, he turned on the gasoline and slowly opened the throttle.

There was no response.

Sharley repeated the operation several times without getting the desired explosion. Then he retested the batteries with the buzzer and adjusted the carburetor, discovering that the gasoline had not been turned on at that point – or, at least, had been turned off after the trouble started. More cranking followed, but without success.

The Nautilus was now drifting in toward the shore, and a peep through a porthole told Sharley that he would be upon the sands of Rockaway if something were not done soon.

“Told you she ought to have a sail equipment for emergencies,” he said to Mr. Ronald.

“Yes; you told me – that’s not your fault. The question now is, what are we going to do?”

“Nothing that I can see but throw out our anchor. Ain’t more than twenty feet of water here, and she’s growing less all the time.”

“But I can’t throw out the anchor without alarming the ladies.”

“Have to alarm ’em, then, I guess. That’s better than going aground and paying somebody salvage to get you off, eh, Mr. Ronald?” and the engineer laughed.

Mr. Ronald admitted the force of the statement, then went on deck to break the news to his guests.

CHAPTER XIV

THE STORM