The speed of the other boat decreased. The roar of its exhaust became intermittent.
“Engine trouble!” suggested Joe.
But there was more than engine trouble.
With startling violence, a sheet of flame leaped high into the air from the motorboat. There was a stunning explosion and a dense puff of smoke. Bits of wreckage were thrown high into the air, and in the midst of it all the Hardy boys, horrified, saw the figure of the man they had noticed before, as he was hurled into the water.
The whole boat was swiftly ablaze. Hardly had the wreckage begun to fall back into the water with spasmodic patterings and splashes than the craft was in flames from bow to stern.
“Look!” shouted Frank. “He’s still alive!”
The man of the boat had been killed by neither the rifle shot nor the explosion.
They could see him struggling in the water not far from the blazing craft. His head was a dark oval above the water and he was slowly trying to swim ashore.
“He’ll never make it!” gasped Joe.
“We’ll have to try to save him!” answered his brother.
V
The Rescue
The Hardy boys knew that they had no time to lose.
It was evident from the struggles of the man in the water that he was not an expert swimmer. So far, he had not seen the boys, but they could hear him shouting for help, possibly thinking, however, that it was in vain, for it was a lonely part of the bay and the nearest farmhouse, outside of the deserted Polucca place, was more than half a mile down the road.
“Quick!” shouted Frank. “I see a rowboat up on the shore.”
His sharp eyes had discerned a small boat almost hidden in a little cove some distance away at the bottom of a steep declivity that was the beginning of the cliff. It could not be reached by going along the shore, and the boys saw that they would have to go along the high ground and then descend to it, for a huge rock that jutted out of the deep water cut the cove off from the more open part of the beach.
They left their motorcycles on the side of the road and hurried back up the slope, then cut down across a narrow strip of weeds and grass until they came to the top of the declivity. They could still see the victim of the explosion struggling in the waves. The man had seized a piece of wreckage and was able to remain afloat, but the boys knew it was only a matter of time before his strength would give out.
“Looks to be almost all in,” remarked Frank.
“I wonder if he’s anybody we know,” came from his brother.
“It isn’t likely.” Frank reached out suddenly and caught hold of Joe’s arm. “Look out there or you may break a leg.”
“It certainly is mighty slippery,” answered Joe, as he managed to regain his footing. He had come close to going heels over head on the rocks.
Slipping and scrambling, they made their way down the slope toward the little cove. Rocks went rolling and tumbling ahead of them. The distance was only a few yards, but the slope was steep and a false step might result in broken bones.
But they reached the bottom in safety and there they came upon the rowboat. It was battered and old, but evidently still seaworthy.
“Into the water with her!” said Frank.
They seized the boat and the keel grated on the shingle as the little craft was launched. Swiftly, they fixed the oars in the locks and then they scrambled into their places.
They began to row with strong, steady strokes out toward the man in the bay. He had seen them, and was now shouting to them to hurry.
“He’d be better off if he kept quiet,” Joe said. “He’s only wasting his strength.”
Evidently this thought occurred to the victim of the wreck, or else he was becoming weaker, for his cries died away and the boys did not hear him again.
Frank thought he may have gone beneath the waves, and he cast a quick look around. But the fellow was still in view, clinging desperately to his bit of wreckage.
The motorboat in the background was still blazing fiercely. Flames were shooting high in the air and the craft was plainly doomed. A great pillar of smoke was rolling into the sky from the burning boat.
As for the other motorboat, Frank could hear the roar of its exhaust as it continued its flight out into the bay. For a while he could see its dim shape, when he turned around once in a while, but then the fleeing boat disappeared into the mist and the gloom.
The boys exerted all their strength and the little rowboat fairly leaped over the waves. Both were good oarsmen and it was not long before they had drawn close to the man in the water.
But it looked as though they would be too late.
When they were only a few yards away Frank looked around, to shout encouragement to the victim of the wreck. Even as he looked, he saw the man wearily give up his grasp on the piece of wreckage to which he had been clinging. Frank had a glimpse of the white face and the despairing eyes and then the man sank slowly beneath the waves.
“He’s drowning, Joe!” shouted Frank, as he bent to his oar again.
With a mighty effort they brought the boat close by the place where the man had gone down.
Frank leaped to the side of the boat and peered down into the depths. He began taking off his coat, preparatory to diving to the rescue.
Then the fellow came to the surface again, gasping for breath, but so weak that he could scarcely make a struggle. He emerged from the water, right beside the boat and Frank leaned over, grasping him by the hair. This sufficed to prevent the man from sinking
