Chapter 12 The Whispering Statue by Carolyn Keene
A COURAGEOUS PASSENGER
A huge wave had buried the two men, and it did appear that they had gone under for the last time. But in a moment Nancy and her friends caught a glimpse of a dark head just under the water’s surface.
“Can you handle the boat?” Jack asked Nancy tersely.
She nodded and took over the wheel. The young man stood poised at the side, and as the boat made a wide sweep he dived overboard. His plunge carried him close to the struggling figure which was fighting so valiantly to keep the unconscious pilot afloat. A few powerful strokes brought him to a point directly behind the pair.
Jack grasped the limp body of the aviator, but even when relieved of the burden the older man seemed scarcely able to battle the heavy waves.
“There is a life-belt under the seat!” Nancy directed George. “Get it quickly!”
The girl flew to obey, and as her chum jockeyed the boat into position she threw the life preserver toward the struggling man. It fell some feet short, but he was able to swim on until he could grasp the support. He clung tightly to it, gasping for breath.
By this time Nancy had throttled down the motor and was able to bring the boat alongside of Jack and the aviator. The girls pulled the unconscious man aboard, leaving young Kingdon free to return for the exhausted swimmer. In a few minutes the bedraggled pair likewise were pulled aboard.
“Good work, Nancy,” Jack murmured admiringly as he took over the wheel again.
Relieved of duty at the helm, the Drew girl lost no time in attending to the needs of the pilot and his unfortunate passenger. George and Bess were doing the best they could, but were frightened and unable to work calmly.
“Ask Jack if there are any blankets and a first-aid kit aboard,” Nancy called, taking command.
One glance assured her that the passenger, though cold and exhausted, required no immediate treatment. It was the pilot who gave her grave concern. She knelt beside him and gently removed the heavy headgear which had weighted him down in the water. His face was as white as chalk and he seemed scarcely to breathe.
“Shouldn’t we start artificial respiration?” Bess asked anxiously.
Nancy shook her head. “I’ll watch his pulse, and unless it gets feebler I don’t believe we’ll need to do anything more before we get to shore.”
“He must have inhaled fumes from the engine in some way,” Bess murmured, staring down at the pinched face.
By this time George returned with some blankets and a warm coat for Jack, who was shivering at the wheel. The girls then wrapped up the pilot.
“The fellow appears almost as if he were doped with a drug,” Nancy said, half to herself. “I’ve never before seen anyone look as he does. We must take him to a doctor.”
“I’m making full speed ahead for shore,” Jack reported grimly.
Finding a thermos bottle of coffee, Nancy urged the old man to take a few sips of it. “It will give you strength and make you feel better,” she urged.
He obediently swallowed some of the hot brew, and as the girl slipped an arm about him for support she had an opportunity to study his face. She judged him to be about sixty-two. He had iron gray hair, a kindly countenance, and dark intelligent eyes which denoted quiet courage.
“You were very brave to try saving the pilot,” she told him. “But it nearly cost you your own life.”
“I couldn’t let the fellow go down in that burning plane,” the man muttered. “I had to help him.”
“What caused the accident?” Nancy asked quickly.
“I don’t know. The first thing I realized, the pilot had started to land on the water. Said he felt sick and stupid. We struck heavily, and I guess he fainted before he could cut the switches. Anyway, the machine burst into flames.”
“You both had a very narrow escape from death,” said Nancy.
“Yes,” the elderly man agreed soberly. “We owe our lives to the timely arrival of your motorboat. How is the pilot?”
“He’s very ill,” Nancy answered. “I can’t understand—” Her voice trailed off and she did not mention again that it seemed to her the man might have been drugged.
The motorboat had traveled some distance from the flaming seaplane, but the blaze had attracted the attention of persons on shore. Word went around that a pleasure craft had exploded. The Coast Guards arrived upon the scene, ready to set out for the place of the accident.
At the Seaside Hotel Carson Drew heard of the occurrence but was unable to learn any of the details. Fearing that Nancy and her friends might have been involved, he ran down to the beach to join the crowd that had gathered there.
Following a record run to shore, the motorboat drew up to the pier. Carson Drew recognized his daughter and tried to push through the excited throng to meet her, but it was several minutes before he could do so. The Coast Guard men, boarding the craft, immediately took charge of the unconscious pilot.
“We’ll rush him straight to the hospital,” they told Nancy, and added a few words of sincere praise for the young people’s rescue work.
“I hope the poor fellow will be all right,” Nancy replied anxiously. “I can’t understand what is wrong with him.”
The Coast Guard men, well trained in all types of first aid, were likewise puzzled by the reaction of the insensible man. However, they offered no opinion. As they left the scene, Mr. Drew succeeded in reaching the young people.
“Dad!” Nancy cried joyfully, grasping his hand. “Why, you’re trembling!”
“Who wouldn’t be?” he demanded gruffly. “I was afraid it was your boat that had blown up. I thought—”
“Mr. Carson Drew!” a voice interrupted.
Nancy and her father turned, and saw that the rescued passenger, supported on either side by Jack Kingdon and Bess, had come up directly behind them. He was gazing at the lawyer with an expression of pleased recognition.
For a moment Carson Drew stared blankly.
“Charles Owen!” he exclaimed at last. “I didn’t expect you to be in Sea Cliff until tomorrow!”