Joe struggled toward the Sleuth. It had sped past when he dived, but Frank had quickly brought the craft around and Joe had to swim but a few strokes. Frank throttled down the engine and he was able to give a hand in assisting the woman on board. She was dragged into the boat, dripping and almost unconscious, and Joe clung to the gunwale until Frank grasped his shoulders and hauled him over the side.
In the meantime, the Hardy boys’ chums were speeding toward the yacht. The race was forgotten.
Frank and Joe did their best to revive the half-conscious woman. Her immersion in the water and the shock of being face to face with death had left her weakened, and she was moaning and murmuring as she lay on the cushions. Joe gave what first aid he could, moving her arms back and forth to restore circulation, while Frank set the course of the Sleuth in the direction of the yacht.
Biff Hooper had already reached the passenger boat. He drew up alongside, with Tony Prito, in the Envoy, not far behind. Passengers were crowding to the rail, some shouting and screaming with fright, some pleading to be taken off.
Biff and Tony were ready to offer their boats for this purpose, but they noticed that the cloud of smoke had diminished in volume. A uniformed man was bellowing through a megaphone.
“No danger!” he roared. “The fire is under control!”
But it was plain that many in the crowd were afraid there would be another explosion.
“Take us off!” screeched a wild-eyed woman. “Take us off before the boat blows up!”
She scrambled up on the rail, but the uniformed man seized her and prevented her from trying to leap overboard.
“Need any help?” shouted Biff.
“Stand by for a while,” returned the officer. “We’re getting this fire under control but we don’t know how bad it is.”
Biff and Tony, in their motorboats, cruised in the neighborhood of the yacht, as the ship’s officer asked. The passengers were milling about on deck, badly frightened, but gradually they became calmer as a steward assured them that there was no danger. The heavy cloud of smoke decreased in volume. The boat’s crew was small and the firefighting equipment was limited, but in a little while it became evident that the blaze was not as bad as it had seemed and that it had indeed been checked in time.
Soon the smoke cloud ceased rolling up from below.
The uniformed man came on deck again with a megaphone. He raised it to his lips and bellowed:
“Thanks, boys, but we won’t need you.”
“That’s fine!” shouted Tony, in reply. “Fire all out?”
“Tin of gasoline exploded. It didn’t spread much. We’ll be able to make Bayport under our own power.”
“Righto!” called Biff. “We’re going in now, anyway. If you need us, give us a hail.”
“We’ll do that.”
The motorboats circled away. In the distance, Biff and Tony could see the Hardy boys in the Sleuth, with the woman they had rescued.
“Your passenger is all right!” shouted Biff, to the captain. “Our chums will bring her back with them.”
He turned the nose of his craft toward the Sleuth.
The Hardy boys were doing their best to revive the woman they had rescued from the waves.
She was not unconscious but she seemed very weak and scarcely appeared to realize where she was.
She was an elderly woman, dressed in black, and although her immersion in the water had undoubtedly been a tremendous shock, the boys could see that she was of an exceedingly nervous temperament and evidently not in the best of health, for she was worn and pale.
“Where am I?” she moaned. “Where am I now?”
“You’re quite safe,” Frank assured her. “You’re in a motorboat.”
“You saved me?”
“We got you out of the water just in time.”
“I want to go to Bayport,” said the woman weakly.
“We’ll take you there,” promised Joe. “It isn’t very far away. We will take you there at once.”
“I want to go to Bayport,” she repeated. “It’s important. I have to see someone there.”
“Head the boat around, Frank,” said Joe quietly. He had seen their chums returning from the neighborhood of the yacht, so he realized that there was no further danger from the fire.
“I must be in Bayport tonight,” gasped the woman. “I must go there to see Fenton Hardy—the detective.”
Then she collapsed weakly, her eyes closed, and she was a dead weight in Joe’s arms. She had fainted.
The Hardy boys looked at one another in astonishment.
“She wants to see dad!” exclaimed Frank incredulously.
It was a strange coincidence that they, of all people, should have rescued her when she was on her way to see their father.
Fenton Hardy had many clients, some of whom came long distances to consult him. He was one of the greatest private detectives in the country and his fame was widespread. He had been for many years on the New York force and had finally achieved his ambition of setting up an agency of his own. He had moved to Bayport, on the Atlantic coast, with his family and his success had been immediate. He had successfully handled many difficult cases and his services were much in demand.
Frank and Joe Hardy, his sons, were anxious to follow in their father’s footsteps, in spite of his objections and in spite of their mother’s desire that they prepare themselves for medicine and law respectively. But the boys had a natural deductive bent and they had taken several local cases on their own initiative, succeeding so well that Fenton Hardy had finally withdrawn his objections and agreed that if, when they were of age, they still desired to
