Twice the wind all but swept him into the sea; once a wave drenched him
with its chilling waters. When at last he reached his destination it was
only to utter a groan; more gas had been used than he had dared think.

"Can't--can't make it," he mumbled as he struggled back to his place.

"Have to send out an S. O. S. then. What wave length do you use?

"You ought to know," exclaimed Vincent almost savagely. "You were the
one who insisted on using it when we were making up our plans."

"Six hundred? Oh, yes," Alfred said indifferently. "Well, what of it?"

"Just this much of it," said Vincent thoughtfully. "I've been going
over and over it in my mind the last little while. What if we send out
our S. O. S. now and some selfish landlubber such as we were is talking
about matters of little importance and muddles our message? We might be
left to drown."

"Aw, can that sob stuff," grumbled Alfred angrily. "Are you going to
send that S. O. S. or am I?"

"I will," said Vincent, preparing to climb to a position on the plane
above him where the radiophone was located. "But"--he suddenly began to
sway dizzily--"but where are we?"

He sank back into his seat. For a full moment, with the waves tossing
the plane about and the black clouds mounting higher and higher, the two
boys stared at one another in silence. Yes, where were they? Who could
tell? They were not trained mariners. They could not have taken a
reckoning even had they been in possession of the needed instruments.

"Why," said Alfred hesitatingly, "we must be somewhere near that spot
where the island was supposed to be located. That's as near as we can
come to it. Send out that latitude and longitude; then we'll climb back
into the air. We'll be safer there than on the water and we can keep the
searchlight shooting out flashes in all directions. A ship coming to our
aid will see the light."

"If they come," Vincent whispered.

"Hurry!" exclaimed Alfred, as a giant wave, rising above its mates,
threatened to tear their plane into shreds.

With benumbed and trembling fingers the boy unwrapped his instruments,
adjusted a coil, twisted a knob and threw in his switch. Then his heart
stood still. The motor did not start. Had it been dampened and
short-circuited? Would it refuse to go? Were they already lost?

Just as he was giving up in despair, there came a humming sound and a
moment later the well-known signal of distress had been flashed out
across the waves. T