United States or Iceland ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !


Jack could easily comprehend why they should be demoralized under the prevailing conditions there had been enough excitement in the air to start with when the hijacker crowd boarded the rum-runner and joined issues with the crews of the two allied boats but when from out of the skies there descended a swooping monster, apparently about to fall upon them as might a stray meteor from unlimited space in the firmament, and that strange, racking pain gripped their eyes, nothing but panic could describe their condition with any degree of accuracy.

It was an exultant Perk who stood erect on the deck and waved his flying helmet with the proud air of a neophyte hunter planting his foot on the body of his first slain lion or tiger. "Come on in, Jack old hoss, the water's fine!" was the way Perk greeted his chum after gaining the deck of the captured rum-runner.

"Take hold, Perk," continued Jack, without losing any time. "We've got to get this poor chap out in the open air for it's pretty bad down below here, and bothers my eyes more or less." So between them they managed to carry the wounded rum-runner to the deck, where he was laid down, still groaning, although showing no other signs of life.

He could vision the terrified hijackers after their speedy plunge overboard managing to find their several boats and dragging themselves over the gunwales with but one thought in their bewildered minds, and that to put as much distance between themselves and the rum-runner as possible.

"We've gathered in the booze," Perk was saying proudly, "or most of it anyway, together with the rum-runner, and one o' the crew to turn State's evidence, so what else could we wish for I for one don't feel greedy. Plenty more where this one came from, and the smuggling season is long.

"Kinder guessed we'd run across one or two o' the scrappers knocked out an' left behind in the getaway rush," commented Perk who had drawn his automatic before starting to explore the lower regions of the rum-runner, not knowing what they were apt to meet there.

Jack had by this time brought the ship around again so as to head into the wind as before. Perk, divining that this meant a second slash at the mob on the sloop's deck reached out for another relay of missiles. Now that he had got started he was in prime condition to "keep the ball rolling" until there did not remain a single hijacker or smuggler aboard the rum-runner.

Then they were speeding into space beyond the bowsprit of the anchored rum-runner, with Jack starting to climb in order to bank and swing around, so as to complete the job if his first endeavor lacked in any detail.

"All things considered," began Jack, thus urged, "I reckon it would be the best scheme if we managed to get the rum-runner anchored back in that big bunch of mangrove islands on the outer edge of which we lay low with our crate so nicely camouflaged.

It afforded him much pride to thus be in sole charge of a captured rum-runner with a cargo of contraband aboard. Then, too, all doubts concerning his ability to serve as an engineer were already dissipated for the sloop was making fair time and carried a bone in her teeth, as the white lines of foam running out on either side attested.