FROM THE JAWS OF DEATH.
Walter Wallace wept and wrung his hands, clinging to the thwarts of the
small boat, which was tossed about like a bit of cork. There was a light
on the yacht, and he strained his eyes toward it.
“Oh, he can’t mean to leave me this way!” sobbed the Belfast boy. “He
will come back for me!”
But the light grew fainter and fainter as the yacht sped away. The wind
was beginning to howl now, curling the crest of the rollers up into
white caps, now and then tearing great sheets of water from the waves.
Dimmer and dimmer grew the light, which showed at intervals as the
little boat rose to the apex of the waves. Sometimes it could not be
seen at all, and then Wallace groaned, for he still clung to the
desperate hope that Flynn would put about and return to the boat he had
cast adrift.
The Belfast boy seemed to forget that he was not alone in the boat. He
prayed and he raved. He expressed regret that he had ever had anything
to do with Flynn.
At last, he could see the light no more. Several times he rose high in
the boat as it rolled to the top of a swell and strained his eyes
through the darkness, but was unrewarded. All around was the dark,
swirling sea that seemed to hiss at him in scorn.
“Lost!” he groaned, sinking down. “The storm is coming, and this boat
must be swamped. It is the end for me! I am beginning to see that this
is just punishment. I have been a bad boy. I did not know how bad I
really was, but now I can see it all. Oh, if I live I will reform! I
swear it! I will lead a different life! And Parker Flynn shall be
punished!”
“You seem to forget that there is anyone else in this boat,” said the
voice of Frank Merriwell, who had remained quiet so long. “I am in the
same box with you.”
Wallace uttered a cry of surprise and joy.
“I did forget!” he exclaimed. “Oh, I was thinking of myself! I am not
alone!”
“No. You helped get me into this scrape, and now you are sharing the
fun. You do not seem to like it.”
“Oh, Mr. Merriwell, I am sorry I ever had anything to do with that
man—sorry I ever helped him in his work against you! It is true, and I
hope you will believe me!”
“I do,” said Frank, in a dry way. “Almost anybody in your position would
be sorry. But I am tied up here so I can’t wiggle. Set me free, and we
will see what can be done.”
“Oh, nothing can be done! We are doomed!”
“Well, you can set me free. You need not be afraid of me now. I’ll not
hurt you, for I think you are being punished enough, and we must be
companions for each other to the end.”
“To the end!” echoed Wallace, as he set at work freeing Frank. He had a
knife, and the task was simple enough.
“Ah!” cried Merry, as he moved his stiffened limbs. “Oh, what pains!
Help me. I am numb all over.”
Wallace aided him to sit upon one of the seats in the middle of the
boat, and Frank rubbed his arms and legs to start the circulation.
“I am sorry I helped get you into this scrape, Merriwell,” said Wallace,
feebly. “I hope you will believe me when I say I had no idea it would
come to this.”
“I haven’t a doubt of that,” came dryly from Frank.
“I know what you think, and I do not blame you. You think I am repentant
because I am in the scrape with you, but I swear I did not dream Flynn
was such a desperado. He said the yacht rightfully belonged to him, and
he induced me to help him run away with it. I thought that would be the
end of it, and, as I had a grudge against you, I agreed to help him. I
was a fool! And I was sorry an hour after we left Belfast harbor. I have
felt all along that we should be punished for the job. I hope you will
believe me when I say I meant you no bodily harm.”
“I heard your racket with Flynn on the yacht just before he forced you
into the boat, and so I believe you. Perhaps this experience will teach
you a lesson.”
“Little good it will do me, for I’ll not live to profit by it.”
“Oh, it’s no use to give up. We can’t tell what may happen.”
“Oh, there’s no chance for us. We are drifting out to sea, and a storm
is coming. We’ll both be drowned before morning.”
“Perhaps not.”
Then a wave curled over the side of the boat and came near swamping her.
Wallace cried out in fear, but Frank ripped out a seat and used it as a
paddle to aid in holding the boat steady.
“Take your cap and try to bail out some of that water,” directed Frank.
“We must keep afloat as long as we can.”
Wallace obeyed.
Now they could hear a roaring that grew louder and louder with each
passing moment. It was an awesome sound, and Wallace shuddered and grew
sick at heart.
“What is that?” he asked, his voice trembling.
“It must be the sea beating on a ledge,” answered Frank.
“Great Heaven! Then we are being carried straight upon it!”
“It seems that way. See if you can tear out another seat. We must try to
paddle past the ledge.”
Merry’s companion did his best, but he could not get out another seat,
and the roaring of the water told that each moment was carrying them
nearer and nearer to the fatal ledge.
Frank was paddling with all his strength, but the seat was little better
than nothing, and, at times, it took all his skill to hold the boat
steady so she would not upset or be swamped.
The waves tossed them high and then fell away beneath them, dropping
them down with a sickening sensation. They were drenched with spray and
sheets of water. The wind tore the breath from their lips as it hissed
along the surface of the sea.
Steadily and surely they were driven toward the ledge that lay out there
in the night, roaring like an infuriated wild beast. As they rose on the
waves they peered in the direction of the sound, trying to see where the
fatal rock lay.
“We must strike her soon!” cried Wallace. “The end will come in a hurry
when we do. Oh, dear! oh, dear!”
Not a word from Frank, but he continued to ply his rude paddle, hoping
to pull past the point of danger. He knew the frail boat would be
smashed like an eggshell if flung on the ledge, but his heart did not
fail him. While he lived he would struggle and hope.
“There she is!” screamed Wallace, as they rose high on a great wave.
Near at hand a wall of foam was flung upward into the darkness. They saw
it a moment, and then it vanished as they sank into the trough of the
sea.
Wallace began to pray.
Toot! toot! toot!
Through the night came the shrill blast of a whistle, electrifying the
imperiled lads. The sound was close at hand.
“What’s that?” screamed Wallace.
“A whistle—a signal!” came from Frank. “It’s a signal to us! Answer it!
Now—together!”
They shouted as loudly as they could. It seemed that the wind tore the
cry from their lips and carried it away into the night. Again they
shouted.
Toot! toot! toot!
Nearer yet sounded the whistle, but they were so close upon that
dreadful ledge!
Up to the top of a swell they rode, and then they shouted with joy, for,
close at hand, a gleaming light danced over the surging sea. They knew
succor was near. Could it reach them in time?
They continued their cries, and the relentless waves seemed trying
harder than ever to sweep them upon the ledge.
All at once the light seemed to gleam close over them, and they saw the
prow of a boat. They also saw the face of Jack Diamond close behind a
lighted lantern that he was holding aloft.
“Here we are!” shouted Frank. “Don’t run us down!”
“Make ready!” came back the call. “Jump as we swing alongside.”
A moment later the _Fox_ grazed the small boat, and both lads leaped for
their lives. They reached the launch, clung to her, and she turned and
raced away from the fatal ledge, upon which the waves flung the deserted
boat.
The storm that had risen in the night passed swiftly with the coming of
morning. In the Reach there were no heavy swells, for the wind had been
in the wrong direction to send a heavy sea rolling in there.
The sun rose clear just as a small steam launch rounded the northern end
of the Isle au Haut. A mile away to the northwest a yacht under full
sail was making toward Deer Island.
“That is the _White Wings_,” said Frank Merriwell, who was at the wheel
of the _Fox_, grim determination expressed on his handsome face. “Those
lobster fishermen told us the truth when they said they had seen her
leaving the island with the first peep of day.”
“There is a clear course between us,” declared Howard Dustan, who was
studying a chart of the bay. “Hold straight for her, Merriwell.”
Hodge, Diamond and Wallace were also on the launch. Bart had not been
seriously injured in the encounter the previous night, and he had found
a rock to which he could cling after being flung from the bank into the
cove.
While Bart was clinging there, the _Fox_ came creeping back into the
cove, and he was taken on board. But Merriwell had been overcome, and
when the boys went to his rescue they were too late. They saw through
the darkness the boat that was carrying Frank off to the _White Wings_.
Then they hurried back to the _Fox_, and backed out of the cove without
delay.
Dustan explained the disappearance of the launch by saying that, after
Bart and Frank went ashore, they heard some men talking and knew they
were looking for the launch by circling the shore of the island. As
quietly as possible he and Diamond had pushed the _Fox_ out of the cove.
Knowing Frank was a captive and had been taken on board the _White
Wings_, the boys ran round the island in the launch, intending to try to
board the yacht and attempt to rescue Merriwell.
They were surprised to find the yacht under sail. Then they followed her
in the little launch, the light that she carried enabling them to do so.
As they carried no light, they were not discovered.
When Frank and Wallace were cast adrift the launch was lying at a
distance. It started to follow the yacht, but Diamond discovered the
small boat was gone, and then he felt certain Frank had been put adrift
in her.
Thus it came about that the launch ran out to search for the small boat,
which it found just in time to save two lives.
And now the boys were again after the stolen yacht, having been aided by
some lobster catchers who had seen the _White Wings_.
Frank Merriwell was determined to have revenge and recover his yacht. He
stood at the wheel as Dustan tended the fire, and the smoke poured from
the funnel of the flying launch.
As the wind was light, the launch came up to the _White Wings_ hand over
hand. As they drew near, the sailor, Steve, was seen at the wheel, while
Flynn was watching them closely.
When Flynn could see beyond a doubt that Frank Merriwell was at the
wheel of the pursuing launch, he grew wildly excited, rushing about the
deck and flourishing his arms.
“He’s not pleased to see you, Merry,” observed Hodge.
“I didn’t expect he would be,” said Frank.
Flynn was seen to rush down the companion way. Pretty soon he came
running on deck, carrying a rifle in his hands.
“One of my own guns,” muttered Frank.
“What is he going to do?” asked Hodge. “Try to scare us?”
“He is desperado enough to attempt anything,” said Merry.
All at once Flynn shouted:
“Go back! If you don’t, I’ll fill you full of bullets!”
The threat was not heeded, and the man dropped beside the rail close to
the stern of the _White Wings_. He took aim with the rifle. Then there
was a puff of smoke, and with a cry Frank dropped.
Before Dustan could grasp the wheel, however, Merry was up again.
“I got down just in time, then,” he said, coolly. “I saw the puff of
smoke, and the bullet whistled within an inch of my head as I fell.”
“Look out! He may shoot again!”
“No! Look! look! The other man is trying to take the gun away from him!
They are fighting!”
It was true. On the _White Wings_ a struggle was taking place between
the two men. The sailor had deserted the wheel, and the yacht soon came
up into the wind with her sails fluttering. The main boom swung over and
struck Flynn on the head, knocking him overboard.
“Pick the fellow up, somebody,” cried Frank, as the launch ran alongside
the _White Wings_.
In vain they looked for Parker Flynn. It seemed that he sank as soon as
he struck the water, and his body was not recovered.
The other man made no resistance as they came on board the yacht.
“I kept the critter from doin’ any more shootin’,” he said. “I’ve had
enough of his style of business. I s’pose I’ll have to go to the jug for
havin’ anything at all ter do with him, but I’ll take my med’cine.”
* * * * *
At sunset that very day the _White Wings_ sailed into Belfast harbor and
reached her old anchorage. Browning had been on the watch, and, with
Hans, he put off in a boat before the yacht was abreast the steamboat
wharf.
“I don’t think you need any shore detectives, Merriwell,” he said. “You
have robbed me of the fun of taking part in the chase, and I’ll have to
lay that up against you.”
“Yaw,” cried Hans, “he vill haf to laid dot up against you, Vrankie. You
vos glat I got pack, ain’d id? Der Pelfast girls vos afrait they vould
nefer seen you some more.”
Dustan had allowed the yacht to precede him into the harbor, but now he
came running in with Wallace and Steve, the sailor, on board. When he
reached the wharf the latter made a break for liberty, and he succeeded
in getting away. It is possible that Merriwell did not push the pursuit
as closely as he might. He had other plans afoot, anyway, for he
intended to go on a fishing trip to Lake Sebasticook, and the
preparations for this took up all his time.
------------------------------------------------------------------------