The Electric Monarch gave a dive and a swoop that caused all Heiny Dill’s qualms to come back tenfold.

“Himmel! Ve are sinking. Man der boat-lifes!” he yelled, but nobody paid any attention to him and he speedily recovered his equanimity, and with his rotund face poked out of the cabin port watched, with as much interest as any one else on board, the approach of the steamer.

“She’s a Boston and Portland liner bound north,” declared Jack to Ned Nevins who, as the motor did not need any attention just then, stood at the young skipper’s side in the pilot house.

“How can you tell?”

“By her smokestack. Black with a white band.”

On came the steamer as the Electric Monarch swooped downward in a graceful curve to meet her. As the hydroaeroplane commenced her dive, there burst from the steamer’s whistle a jet of white smoke. Immediately after, the boys heard the booming greeting of the vessel’s siren.

Jack pressed the button that controlled the Electric Monarch’s siren and the next moment the hydroaeroplane was screeching an answering salute. They were now quite close to the steamer and could see her uniformed officers on the bridge and her decks black with passengers, their upturned faces looking like white discs.

“My! I’ll bet there’s a tall lot of speculation going on on board that craft right now,” said Ned, as the two boys gazed downward.

“I guess you’re right. It isn’t every day that the passengers of a liner have a chance to see a craft like this in action,” was the response.

Excitement did, indeed, appear to be rife on board the craft beneath them. Passengers could be seen clambering to all sorts of points of vantage. Handkerchiefs were frantically waved and the ship’s whistle was kept constantly roaring salutes.

Astern of the Electric Monarch fluttered the Stars and Stripes. Jack snatched up the speaking tube connecting with the stern lookout post. When Tom responded he ordered him to dip the colors in response to the steamer’s salutes.

A few moments afterward Jack and Ned saw the liner’s ensign glide slowly down the jack-staff and then ascend again as she acknowledged the mid-air courtesy.

“Can’t we turn and follow her?” asked Ned, as the steamer, with a great creamy bow wave curling away from her sharp cutwater, sped on her way.

“Certainly. For a short distance, anyway. We might as well show them our paces.”

Jack swung the Electric Monarch in a sharp circle and they could feel the equilibrium devices grate and vibrate as the big craft was “banked” at a sharp angle. By this time the steamer had put quite an interval between herself and the Electric Monarch. But Jack let the hydroaeroplane out a notch more than he had been doing.

The Electric Monarch answered the quickened impulses of her propellers like a race horse. In a flash, as it seemed, she was once more abreast of the steam vessel.

“Look,” cried Ned, suddenly, “there’s a man clambering up on the jack-staff.”

The venturesome passenger had gained the stern railing. He hopped to the top of it and then began to swarm up the jack-staff from the summit of which fluttered the flag. Holding on with one hand he waved frantically with the other. The boys were in the act of acknowledging the salute when Jack gave a sharp cry.

“Gracious! He’s overboard!”

Like a stone the man had suddenly dropped from the jack-staff into the swirling water astern of the steamer. How he had lost his hold was a mystery. It all happened in a flash. One second he was waving, the next they saw him falling down into the sea and then the waters closed over him.

The steamer’s whistle sounded in short quick jerks. It was the signal to man the lifeboats. The boys could see the passengers and the crew rushing about in seeming confusion, but in the case of the latter, as they knew, the apparent chaos represented order.

And now, amidst the white, boiling wake of the vessel, they could make out the dark speck of a man’s head. He was swimming for his life, swimming desperately to avoid being drawn into the suction of the propeller. Jack’s hand sought a lever.

Ned looked at him questioningly. But he did not speak. He was pretty sure in his own mind what the young skipper of the Electric Monarch was going to do.

This belief was speedily verified. Jack drew back the lever and the planes took a downward slant. Simultaneously Jack flashed on the red lights that signaled to the stern and bow lookouts that a descent was to be made. Joyce in the bow and Tom in the stern had seen the accident, but of course had not left their posts. The flash of the red lamps at their stations apprised them that the Electric Monarch was about to make her first essay at saving life.

Down shot the big craft with a swiftness that made it seem as if she must inevitably shoot straight to the bottom of the sea. Even Ned, secure as he felt while Jack had the wheel, flashed a doubtful look at the young skipper. But he said nothing and the next moment he was to be glad that he had remained silent.

With iron nerve, Jack allowed the Electric Monarch to drop like a swooping fish eagle, and then, without the quiver of a muscle, he turned apparent disaster aside with a swift manipulation of the leveling lever. The bow of the Electric Monarch raised and struck the water at an angle that caused her to glide along the surface much as a newly launched vessel might take to sea.

It was a masterly bit of handling. The spray flew high above the Electric Monarch, completely hiding her for an instant from the view of those on board the steamer. A great cry went up when it was seen that she was safe and riding like a duck on the heaving surface of the sea. To many of those on board it had appeared as if the big craft must have sunk. Their relief expressed itself in a mighty cheer.

Those on board the Monarch felt no less relief. Tom and Joyce had stuck grimly to their posts but both had felt their hearts beat quicker as they neared the water. As it was, a good drenching was all they had received, and they had but scant time to give any attention to that, for Jack instantly headed the Electric Monarch in the direction in which the bobbing head of the swimmer had last been seen.

Presently Ned gave a shout.

“There he is!”

Sure enough, not twenty yards from the Electric Monarch as she lay on the waves, was the form of the swimmer.

“Stick it out! We’ll get you!” shouted Tom, from his post astern.

The swimmer waved a confident hand in reply. He did not appear at all incommoded by his accident. On the contrary, he was swimming leisurely as if he rather enjoyed his bath than otherwise. The boys gazed at him in astonishment. Within the next few minutes they were destined to be yet more surprised.