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[Illustration: FRANK WAS LIFTED BY MAIN FORCE AND PLACED IN IT.--_Page
228._]




                           THE BOY AVIATORS'
                          FLIGHT FOR A FORTUNE

                                   BY
                         CAPTAIN WILBUR LAWTON

                     AUTHOR OF "THE BOY AVIATORS,"
                        "DREADNOUGHT BOYS," ETC.

                            _ILLUSTRATED BY_
                           _CHARLES L. WRENN_

                                NEW YORK
                            HURST & COMPANY
                               PUBLISHERS




                            Copyright, 1912,
                                   BY
                            HURST & COMPANY




                                CONTENTS

             CHAPTER                                      PAGE
                  I. On Brig Island                          5
                 II. The Wireless                           22
                III. A Night Alarm                          36
                 IV. Cut Adrift                             45
                  V. Adventures on the Hulk                 56
                 VI. Harry Meets an Old Friend              66
                VII. A Puzzling Problem                     80
               VIII. The Derelict Destroyer                 89
                 IX. The Flight of the "Sea Eagle"          97
                  X. "C. Q. D.!"                           112
                 XI. "Good Luck!"                          121
                XII. Through the Night                     129
               XIII. A Twentieth-Century Rescue            137
                XIV. Ben's Plan Stolen                     148
                 XV. What Happened Ashore                  158
                XVI. Off on the "Air Route"                170
               XVII. An Aerial Ambulance                   180
              XVIII. An Errand of Mercy                    189
                XIX. Plumbo Found Wanting                  199
                 XX. Frank's Battle                        209
                XXI. A Rascally Trick                      219
               XXII. Reunited!                             230
              XXIII. Off Once More                         237
               XXIV. A Struggle for Life                   246
                XXV. A Race to Cloudland                   253
               XXVI. The Boy Aviators' Pluck               264
              XXVII. Captured by Aeroplane                 275




THE BOY AVIATORS' FLIGHT FOR A FORTUNE




CHAPTER I.--ON BRIG ISLAND.


The sharp bow of Zenas Daniels' green and red dory grazed the yellow
beach on the west shore of Brig Island, a wooded patch of land lying
about a mile off the Maine Shore in the vicinity of Casco Bay. His son
Zeb, a lumbering, uncouth-looking lad of about eighteen, with a
pronounced squint, leaped from the craft as it was beached, and seized
hold of the frayed painter preparatory to dragging her farther up the
beach.

In the meantime Zenas himself, brown and hatchetlike of face, and lean
of figure--with a tuft of gray whisker on his sharp chin, like an
old-fashioned knocker on a mahogany door--gathered up a pile of lobster
pots from the stern of the dory and shouldered them. A few lay loose,
and those he flung out on the beach.

These last Zeb gathered up, and as his father stepped out of the dory
the pair began trudging up the steeply sloping beach, toward the woods
which rimmed the islet almost to the water's edge. All this, seemingly,
in defiance of a staring sign which faced them, for on it was printed in
letters visible quite a distance off:

                           PRIVATE PROPERTY.
                            NO TRESPASSING!

Instead, however, of checking the fisherman, it caused old Zenas to
break into a harsh laugh as his deep-set, wrinkle-surrounded eyes dwelt
for an instant on the inscription. His jaw seemed to set with a snap,
and his thin lips formed a narrow, hairlike line as a second later he
saw something else. This was a stout wire fence, clearly of recent
construction, which extended along the edge of the woods. Apparently it
must have encircled the island, for it ran as far as eye could see in
either direction.

"Waal, I'll be dummed-gosh dummed!" snorted Zenas, his thin nostrils
dilating angrily.

"Put up a fence now, have they?" he continued. "Waal, if thet ain't ther
beatingest! A passel of city kids ter come hyar and think they kin run
things in Casco Bay!"

"I reckon thet fence ain't goin' ter hinder us powerful much, dad."

"Waal, I swan _not_. Come on, Zeb, look lively with them pots; we've got
ter git across ther island an' back ez slippy ez we kin."

But as father and son resumed their journey, the thick brush suddenly
parted and down a narrow path a boyish figure came suddenly into view.
The newcomer was a tall, muscular youth, with a face tanned to a healthy
brown by constant outdoor life. His clean-cut figure and frank, open
countenance formed a striking contrast to Zenas' crabbed features and
the shifty look of his son.

"Where do you intend going?" demanded the boy, as he halted a few paces
on the opposite side of the fence.

"You know waal enough, Frank Chester, or whatever yer name is," growled
out Zenas, "we're goin' across ther Island ter stow our lobster pots,
just as we've bin a-doin' fer years."

"I'm very sorry. I don't want to seem unfair, but, as I explained to you
the other day, this island is now private property. It was rented from
Mr. Dunning of Portland on the express condition that we were not to be
interfered with."

"Land o' Goshen! So ye think yer kin come hyar an' run things ter suit
yerselves, do yer?"

"We rented the island for that purpose. As I said before, we are all
very sorry if it interferes with your convenience; but there's Woody
Island half a mile below, and closer in to Motthaven, too, why won't
that suit you as well?"

"'Cos it won't. Thet's why. Brig Island's bin here a sight longer than
you er I, and it's goin' ter stay hyar arter we're gone, too."

"I don't quite see what that has to do with it."

"Waal, I do. We ain't used ter bein' dictated to by a passel of kids.
I've bin usin' this island fer ten years or more. It suits me first
rate, and I propose ter go on using it, and ther ain't no kids kin stop
me," spoke Zenas stubbornly.

"Well, we shan't keep you from it for more than a few weeks at most--at
least I hope so," rejoined Frank, with perfect good nature, "after that,
although we have leased it for a year, we shall be glad to have you use
it in any way you like."

"I want ter use it right now, I tell yer."

"Well, you can't!"

Frank's control of himself was beginning to ooze away in the face of
such mule-like obstinacy.

"Kain't, eh? We'll see. You're alone on the island ter-day, I seen ther
other kids go ashore this mornin'. Come on, Zeb, climb over thet fence."

"Thet's right, dad," applauded Zeb, "ef he gives yer any sass jes' hit
him a clip in ther jaw. Reckon that 'ull stop him fer a while."

As his son spoke Zenas made as if to lay his hand on the top wire of the
fence preparatory to scaling it. Frank Chester stepped hastily forward.

"Don't try to climb that fence!" he warned. His tone was so earnest
that, involuntarily, Zenas checked himself.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Because if you do you are going to get hurt. I give you fair warning."

"Shucks! ez if a kid could bother me. Come on, Zeb."

As he called to his son, Zenas clapped his hand on the top wire. Zeb,
with a contemptuous grimace at Frank, did the same.

"We'll show yer----" Zeb was beginning, when a singular thing happened.

[Illustration: "OUCH! WHAT IN THE NAME OF TIME HIT US!"]

Zenas, with a yell, sprang into the air and, tripping as he came down,
alighted in a sprawling heap among the freshly-tarred lobster pots. His
gray goatee wagged savagely as he lay there impotently clenching his
fists, alternating this performance by vigorously rubbing his elbows. In
the meantime his son, giving vent to a no less piercing cry, had
executed a backward bound from the fence with as much velocity as if he
had been a rubber ball.

"Ouch! What in ther name of time hit us!" he demanded.

"Dear land o' Goshen! What was thet?" shouted his parent.

Frank had some difficulty in steadying his voice to reply. The sight of
the two lately militant figures sprawling there on the beach was too
much for his gravity.

"_That_," he managed to gasp out at length, "that was a _mild_ current
of electricity running through those wires. You recollect I warned you
not to touch them."

"You--you--you young villain!" roared Zenas, springing to his feet with
great agility for one of his years, "I'll have ther law on yer!"

"Consarn you, yes!" echoed Zeb, "assault and battery!"

"No, not batteries--a dynamo," Frank could not resist saying. "If you
think of going to law over it," he added, more seriously, "please
recollect that I warned you not to touch those wires. Furthermore, you
were defiantly trespassing on private property, although you could see
that sign from quite a distance out on the water."

The elder Daniels' face was a study at this. But his son continued to
bellow angrily.

"You may hev injured dad and me fer life!" he shouted.

"Oh, no; on the contrary, a mild shock of electricity is a fine thing
for the system. But," and Frank smiled, "don't take an overdose."

"Oh, y'er laughin' at us, are yer? Waal, maybe ther laugh 'ull be on the
other side of yer face nex' time we meet."

All this time the elder Daniels had remained silent, gathering up his
scattered lobster pots. Evidently he did not meditate a second assault
on the fence. Now he turned the overboiling vials of his wrath on his
son.

"Pick up them pots, consarn ye!" he rumbled throatily, "and git out 'er
this."

Zeb obeyed, and then, with what dignity they could muster, the two
shuffled back down the beach to their dory. Then they shoved off and
began pulling for Woody Island. Frank Chester watched them in silence.
But they did not look his way once during the swift row. When they
landed on the distant islet, he saw Zeb turn and shake his fist in the
direction of Brig Island with vicious emphasis. The elder fisherman,
however, simply strode off along the beach of the adjacent island
without turning.

"Well, the fence certainly served its purpose," said Frank to himself,
as he turned away; "it proved as effectual as it did that night we used
the same sort of contrivance to put to rout the rascals who wanted to
wreck the old Golden Eagle. Sorry I had to give those fellows such a
severe lesson, though. They liked us little enough before. They'll have
still less use for us now."

He was about to retrace his steps up the path when his attention was
arrested by a sudden sound--the sharp "put-put-put!" of a motor boat.

"I'll bet that's Harry, Billy and Pudge coming now!" he exclaimed. "I'll
go round to the hulk and meet them."

So saying, he started off along the beach. In a few seconds he rounded a
wooded promontory and passed out of sight. Right here, perhaps, is a
good place to give those readers who have not already formed their
acquaintance, some further idea of who Frank Chester and his companions
are, and how the quartet came to be on Brig Island, off the coast of
Maine, in the island-dotted Casco Bay region.

The first volume of this series related the adventures of Frank and
Harry Chester, two bright, inventive New York lads of seventeen and
sixteen, in the turbulent Central American Republic of Nicaragua. In
this book was set down the part that their aeroplane, _The Golden
Eagle_, played in the drama of revolution, and followed also the
tempestuous career of their chum Billy Barnes, a young reporter whom
they met in the tropics. Mr. Chester, a New York man of affairs, owned a
plantation in Nicaragua, and the boys and their aeroplane were the means
of saving this from the depredations of the revolutionaries. But in an
electric storm in which she was driven out to sea the _Golden Eagle_ was
lost. By means of the wireless apparatus with which she was equipped,
the lads, however, managed to communicate with a steamer which picked
them up and saved their lives.

In The Boy Aviators on Secret Service, the second volume of the Boy
Aviators' series, we find them in the mysterious region of the
Everglades. Once again they demonstrated--this time for Uncle Sam--the
almost limitless possibilities of the two greatest inventions of modern
times--the aeroplane and wireless telegraphy. In this book we related how
the secret explosive factory was located and put out of commission, and
what dangers and difficulties surrounded the boys during the process.

Not long after this a strange combination of circumstances resulted in
the boys taking a voyage to Africa. In The Boy Aviators In Africa you
may read how they discovered the ivory hoard in the Moon Mountains, and
how the Arab slave trader, who had cause to fear them, made all sorts of
trouble for them. The first aeroplane to soar above the trackless
forests of the Dark Continent conveyed them safely out of their
dilemmas, and indirectly was the cause of their being able to voyage
back to America on a fine yacht.

The boys had figured on resting up after this, but the love of adventure
that stirred in their blood, as well as their warm friendship for Billy
Barnes, prompted them to take part in a cross-continent flight against
great odds. The story of the contest, The Boy Aviators in Record Flight,
related stirring incidents from coast to coast. Readers of that volume
will readily summon to mind the ruse by which the lads escaped the
cowboys and baffled some renegade Indians and, finally, their fearful
battle in midair with the sand storm.

The story of an old Spanish galleon enthralled in the deadly grip of the
Sargasso Sea furnished the inspiration for the tale of the Boy Aviators'
Treasure Quest. But they were not alone on their hunt for the long-lost
treasure trove. Luther Barr, a bad old man who had caused them much
trouble before, fitted out a rival expedition. High above the vast ocean
of Sargasso weed the boys had to fight for their lives with a crew of
desperate men in a powerful dirigible craft. How they won out, and
through what other adventures they passed--including the surprising one
of the "rat ship,"--you must read the volume to discover, as we have not
space to detail all that befell them on that voyage.

Then came what was, in many respects, their queerest voyage of all--the
flight above the Antarctic fields of eternal ice, in search of the goal
of discoverers of half a dozen nationalities, the South Pole. The Boy
Aviators' Polar Dash was a volume full of swift action and enterprise.
Many hardships were endured and dangers faced, but the boys did not
flinch when duty required their best of them. They emerged from the
frozen regions having achieved a signal triumph, but one which would not
have been possible of accomplishment without their aeroplane.

Having thus briefly sketched the previous careers of the Boy Aviators,
we shall give a short account of how they came to be on Brig Island, and
then press on with our story. About a month before the present story
opens then, a scientific friend of Mr. Chester's, Dr. Maxim Perkins, had
called on the Boy Aviators' father and requested the aid of the young
aerial inventors in some problems that were bothering him. Dr. Perkins
was already an aviator of some note, but his achievements had not found
their way into the newspapers as, like most scientific men, he did not
care for publicity in connection with his experiments.

In common with the rest of the civilized world Dr. Perkins--horrified at
a mid-ocean tragedy in which hundreds of lives were sacrificed--had set
his wits to work to devise some means of life saving--in addition to the
regular boat equipment--which might be easily carried by ocean liners. He
was convinced that it would be feasible for vessels of that description
to carry an auxiliary fleet of what he termed
"dirigible-hydro-aeroplanes." By this rather clumsy name he meant a
combination of the hydroplane, dirigible and aeroplane. But although his
ideas on the subject were clear enough in theory, he was rather hazy
about the practical side of the matter, and this was the object of his
call on Mr. Chester--to ask the aid of the Boy Aviators in carrying out
his experiments.

To make a long story short, arrangements were finally completed by which
the doctor had leased Brig Island, and had set up on it such sheds and
appliances as would be needed by the boys in their work. These included
a wireless, by means of which communication with the mainland might be
kept up--via Portland--and also a unique piece of apparatus (if such it
could be called) of which we shall learn in the next chapter.

The boys had now spent two busy weeks on the island, and the work that
they had mapped out for themselves was so nearly completed that they had
felt justified that morning in wirelessing Dr. Perkins to come and see
how things were going on. As we have seen, their stay on the island had
not been altogether tranquil. The spot had been used for years by the
fishermen as a sort of stowage