CHAPTER I.
AFLOAT ON THE LOWER DELAWARE
"Toot your horn, Jimmy, and let everybody know we're off at last!"
"Sure, there's the ould Wireless coming up on us, hand over fist. It's a broth of a bhoy George Rollins is for speed!"
"Yes, he always starts out well, and with a rush; but generally manages to have his engine break down; and then even the wide old tub Comfort gets there ahead of the narrow speed boat. Now give 'em a blast, Jimmy. The coast cruise is on!"
Accordingly, Jimmy Brannigan, who served as cook and crew aboard the staunch motor boat Tramp, some twenty-three feet in length by six feet wide (the boat, not Jimmy), and with Jack Stormways as pilot, puffed out his cheeks and blew.
It was a necessary method for sounding the conch shell horn, which, if blown like a bugle, would send out a screech that could be heard a mile away.
Answering toots came from the two other crafts that had just left Philadelphia astern, and were heading down the old Delaware River, bound for Florida.
Here were six of the happiest young chaps on the face of the globe; and, indeed, how could they help it? Blessed with good health; three of them owning motor boats that had served them now for two seasons, and with stores aboard for a "bully" voyage down the Atlantic coast, taking the inland passage, what more could the heart of a real boy, with red blood in his veins, sigh for!
These six lads lived in a town "out Mississippi way." They had long ago ceased to be novices in the management of motor boats, and the great benefit they seemed to have secured from previous trips on the water, both down the wonderful Mississippi and on the Great Lakes, had convinced their fathers that they were to be trusted under any and all conditions.
Hence, when a calamity befell the high school of their native place, which all of them attended, fire destroying the main part of the building, so that there could be no session until some time after Christmas, and a brilliant scheme dawned upon the mind of Jack Stormways, they were not long in convincing those who controlled their destinies that the opportunity for a run down the Atlantic coast before winter set in, with possibly a similar cruise along the Mexican gulf to New Orleans, was too good to be lost.
And so they had come to Philadelphia, with this object in view.
As to the money part – for it takes a heap of cash to transport three motor boats a thousand miles and more by fast freight – that was the easiest part of the programme.
It happened that the treasury of the Motor Boat Club was quite flush at that particular time. On one of their former cruises, up on the Great Lakes, and in the vicinity of the Thousand Islands, these lads had been instrumental in bringing to justice a set of rogues, for whose apprehension a large reward had been offered by the authorities.
That sum, with others picked up in various ways, had been lying at interest all this while. They had intended using it for their next cruise, no matter where that might happen to take them.
Various indeed had been the suggestions made from time to time; and some of them bordering on the ridiculous. Strange to say, it was Nick Longfellow, the companion of George Rollins on the narrow beam speed boat Wireless, who gave utterance to most of these absurd propositions.
Nick was fat, and a tremendous eater. As a rule he could not be said to be at all bold by nature; and yet he declared that nothing would please him half so much as that they explore the Orinoco River in South America, and discover things never before known by white people.
Then there had been Josh Purdue, the tall and thin assistant of Herbert Dickson on the beamy and steady if slow Comfort, who wanted them to lose themselves for an entire month in the depths of the swampy country to be found along the St. Francis River.
But when Jack sprung his sensation about the long trip down the coast, and around to New Orleans, it took like wildfire, and every other idea was speedily forgotten. Preparations were hurried, the boats shipped, and later on the boys turned up in Philadelphia, where they found their craft waiting for them.
And now, here they were, at noon on this late September day, with the prows of their beloved boats turned toward the south, and plowing the waters of the Delaware, the Quaker City left far astern.
Doubtless many aboard the bustling tugs, and the vessels that came and went, smiled as they heard the merry tooting of horns exchanged between the three little power boats that were speeding along toward the wider reaches of the lower river.
They easily guessed that the boys had a good time ahead of them; but truth to tell not one could have imagined the extent of the voyage upon which the Motor Boat Club had now set out, with so confident a mien.
Taken as a whole, a merrier set of young chaps could hardly have been assembled than the six who constituted this same club. They had, of course, their faults; but by now they were so accustomed to each other's society that seldom was a discordant note heard.
