Читать книгу Frank Reade, Jr., and His Electric Ice Ship; or, Driven Adrift in the Frozen Sky - Luis Senarens - Страница 4

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The hotel clerk looked very much surprised at Frank’s charitable deed, but took his money, made no comment, and assigned the lady to a room.

As she reached the parlor door, she beckoned to the inventor and he followed her into the room and asked her pleasantly:

“Do you wish to speak to me, madam?”

“I wish to thank you for your kindness,” she faltered.

“It is not necessary,” replied Frank.

“At least let me tell you how I happened to be in this plight.”

“I admit that I am somewhat curious about it.”

“Well, briefly, I am a rich widow with one child—a boy of seventeen, who is now at a military boarding school up the State. My fortune was placed under the administration of an unscrupulous lawyer named Alfred Milburn. He calculated that if I and my son were out of the way, he could keep possession of our money. My name is Caroline Grey. I lived in a handsome dwelling on a good street, and my lawyer boarded with me.

“One week ago the wretch drugged me. When I recovered my senses I found myself confined in a private lunatic asylum. Milburn called and coolly told me he did it to rob me. He also stated that he intended to send for my son and have him carried away to sea, from whence he would never return. Frantic with apprehension, I managed to escape from the asylum to-night. That is why I have no bonnet on. Coming here, I tried to secure shelter until tomorrow, when I intend to state my case to the police. I will have Milburn arrested and baffle his design.”

“Is he a tall man with white hair and a jet black mustache?”

“Yes—do you know him—have you seen him?”

“I saw him to-night. And your son—is he a well-formed boy with a military uniform of dark blue, trimmed with light blue braid?”

“Yes—yes!” excitedly cried the lady. “Walter has very fair skin and jet black eyes. There is a small scar on his left cheek.”

“I was not near enough to distinguish his features well.”

“Near enough? You couple his description with that of Milburn—is it possible you have seen them together?”

“Yes—to-night. The boy was abducted.”

A low cry of horror escaped Mrs. Grey, her face turned deathly pale, and a wild look sprang to her eyes as she gasped:

“What has happened? Tell me quick!”

Frank detailed his adventure.

Mrs. Grey was overwhelmed with grief and despair.

“Bound for the Arctic Ocean!” she groaned. “Oh, he will never come back alive! My poor, poor boy! This is dreadful—dreadful! Oh, what shall I do? I am wild—frantic—filled with agony!”

“Hush!” said Frank, gently. “I alone can give you hope.”

“I do not understand you.”

“Then I will explain. I am Frank Reade, Jr.”

“What! The wonderful inventor of whom I have so often read!”

“I am an inventor, and my latest contrivance is a flying ice boat, with which I have planned to visit the mysterious land of Nova Zembla. As my course will be the same as that of the ship Red Eric it is more than likely that I shall fall in with that whaling ship. If I don’t I’ll hunt for it. If I find her I shall save your son. I swear it, for I have the means of doing so.”

His words were so emphatic that renewed hope was aroused in the heart of the half-distracted mother, and she dried her tears and asked:

“When do you intend to undertake this journey, sir?”

“Within a few days,” Frank replied. “My flying ice ship is nearly finished. I came to Boston to get the few things I need to complete her. To-morrow I am going home; but ere I leave this city I shall make it my business to help you to have Alfred Milburn arrested, so you can recover possession of the fortune of which he designs to rob you.”

“God bless you, Frank Reade,” the lady exclaimed, feelingly.

After some further talk they parted for the night.

The inventor was accompanied by a little old negro named Pomp, and a rollicking, red-headed, pug-nosed Irishman named Barney O’Shea, who always went with him on his travels, and lived in Readestown.

Both were inveterate practical jokers; the coon was a good cook and played the banjo, and the Celt was an expert violinist, and ever ready for a fight or fun of any kind, while both were greatly devoted to the inventor.

They were domiciled in the hotel with Frank.

On the following morning the coon woke up early, dressed himself, and going out into the hall heard Barney snoring in his room.

“Golly! wha’ lazy feller dat I’ishman am,” muttered the darky, with a grin, as he paused outside of Barney’s room. “Specs he sleep de whole lib long day ef I done let him. Wondah if I kin git in dar?”

He tried the door, found it unlocked, and entered the bedroom.

The Celt lay on his back, with his month wide open, and Pomp stole over to the wash-basin, turned on the freezing cold water full force, put his finger over the faucet, and squirted it at the sleeper.

Swish—plunk! went the jet against the Irishman’s eye.

Then a steady stream flew all over his face.

He gave a sudden start, the snoring ceased, and he sat up very much confused from being awakened so violently.

The cold water continued to squirt on him, and he gave a wild yell.

“Murdher! I’m dhrowndin’!” he howled.

Then he bounced out of bed.

Fizz—swish—flipp! continued the stream.

Barney only wore a red flannel undershirt, and as the cold liquid flew about his limbs he jumped up in the air, his teeth chattering, his hair on end, and roar after roar pealing from his lips.

“Begorra! I’m a dead man!” he roared, as he rushed, danced, hopped and galloped around the room, followed by the cold stream and the laughter of the mischievous coon. “Howly beans! ther roofs leakin’! Ther poipes bushted! Ther house is afoire! Help! Help!”

“Yah! yah! yah!” howled the delighted darky. “Haw, haw, haw! Lord amassy, looker de jumpin’-jack!”

And s-s-s-s-sphf! Piff-piff-piff! went the water again.

By this time Barney got over his confusion and saw the coon.

He also observed the cause of his misery.

“Faith, it’s ther naygur!” he groaned, as he tried to dodge the stream.

“Whoop her up! Dat’s de step, honey! Oh, Lawd—looker dem legs fly!”

“Shtop it!” shouted the Celt, as he raced around to avoid the freezing water. “Bedad, I’m frozen! Pomp, ye spalpeen, wanst I get ther grip av me fingers in ther wool av yer head, I’ll scalp yez wid wan pull.”

“Hop, dar, yo’ chimpanzee; hop, I say! I’se gwine to gib yo’ a wash if yo’ neber hab one befo’, chile.”

Barney flew into a closet.

Here the door protected him.

There were several pairs of shoes, a boot jack, and sundry other objects lying upon the floor, which he eagerly grasped.

The next moment he bombarded the coon with them from behind the door, and as the fusillade whizzed through the air, Pomp made an effort to dodge them.

He was not quick enough, and the next moment a shoe caught him a thump on the nose, a valise banged him on the ear, and a whisk broom pounded him in the eye.

With a howl of pain, as a second volley struck him, he charged on the Irishman, who had come from behind the door.

The coon’s head was down to butt the Irishman in the stomach, but just at the right moment Barney nimbly sprang aside, and with a terrible crash Pomp’s head struck a panel of the door.

It went through, splintering the wood, and before he could withdraw his skull, Barney seized one of the bed-slats and belabored him so that every thump sounded like a pistol shot, and the howls of the captured coon awakened every one in the house.

In the midst of the furore Frank rushed in, and although he could hardly refrain from laughing at the drenched Irishman and the stuck darky, he assumed an angry look and cried, sternly:

“Stop that row, will you? Every one in the hotel is alarmed.”

“Masther Frank,” muttered Barney, dropping the slat.

“Pull me out!” shouted Pomp. “I’se stuck!”

“Faix, I’ll lave yer till yer cocoanut dhrops off!”

“Oh, Lawd amighty, I’se got——”

He gave his head a jerk and extricated himself.

The moment he got free and saw Frank he wilted, and making a dive for the door, vanished in the hall.

Frank and the other guests burst into a roar of laughter and followed him.

When the coon and the Irishman met at the breakfast table, they had so far forgotten their anger that the subject was not referred to.

Frank afterward took them aside, told them all about Mrs. Grey and her son, and after introducing them to the lady they went to police headquarters and laid the matter before the authorities.

A detective took a warrant for the arrest of Alfred Milburn, and accompanying Mrs. Grey to her residence with Frank and his friends, they went in and arrested the lawyer.

His dismay was intense when he saw Mrs. Grey free and Frank in her company, for he recognized the young inventor at once.

The rascal was locked up.

We may as well add here that he had to disgorge the money he held in trust for the widow and her son, and without much delay was sentenced to a long term in prison for his rascality.

The widow received her rights.

Having procured the parts of the flying machine they were after, Frank and his two friends assured the lady again that they would strain every effort to rescue her son, and then boarded a train for home.

Readestown, to where they went, was a beautiful little western city near a river that flowed to the Atlantic.

Here dwelt Frank in a magnificent mansion, near which stood the great machine shops in which his wonderful inventions were constructed.

The young inventor upon his arrival found an old friend there named Dr. Vaneyke, who had often gone with him on his trips.

The white-bearded old scientist had heard that Frank had built a new flying machine, and being desirous of accompanying him in it on his proposed journey, had come from the Smithsonian Institute, with which he was connected, to join the inventor.

Frank was delighted at the prospect of having his old friend go, and readily assented to the plan.

On the following day, as the air ship was nearly finished, the inventor brought the professor out to the shop to see it.

Here a singular and unexpected incident occurred.