A MADCAP CRUISE
BY ORIC BATES
[Illustration: Logo]
_Boston and New York_
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & COMPANY
The Riverside Press, Cambridge
1905
COPYRIGHT 1905 BY ORIC BATES
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
_Published March 1905_
TO
MY FATHER
[Illustration: Decoration]
Contents
_Chapter_ _Page_
I. The Cardinal Points 1
II. The Fog comes in 19
III. It blows Southeast 36
IV. It blows Northwest 50
V. Land Ho! 64
VI. Dinner Ashore 81
VII. Luncheon Aboard 104
VIII. A Change of Tactics 129
IX. The Doldrums 147
X. Mr. Wrenmarsh, the Extraordinary 163
XI. A Lone-Hand Game 199
XII. At Vergil's Tomb 228
XIII. A Bid for the Odd Trick 240
XIV. Clearing the Decks 250
XV. In the Cattewater 263
XVI. Storm! 288
XVII. Facing the Music 310
XVIII. Epilude 327
[Illustration: Decoration]
A MADCAP CRUISE
Chapter One
THE CARDINAL POINTS
"It strikes me," said Jerrold Taberman, "that we are booked for
everlasting fame, win or lose. We'll either sail down the ages as a
brace of heroes, or as the most egregious pair of donkeys that ever
botched a job."
"Well, Jerry," returned his companion, smiling, "you've as much to do
with making the thing a success as I have. I hope you realize the
responsibility."
The young men chuckled in concert at the thought of all that was
involved in this remark, although they looked, not at each other, but
out over the sea.
It was early twilight in the last week of the month of May. The two
speakers were standing on a little jetty that ran out into a small and
all but landlocked harbor of an island in East Penobscot Bay. Both were
evidently in the earlier twenties, both were dressed in such canvas
working-suits as are worn by the sailors in our navy, and both were, at
half a glance, gentlemen.
The second speaker, John Castleport, was tall and dark. His face, with
its prominent features and keen brown eyes, was rather striking than
handsome. He stood looking southward to where, in the fading light, the
Atlantic shouldered away to the west as if with a hidden purpose of its
own. In his hand he held a pair of powerful binoculars, and despite his
smile he had the air of being pretty seriously in earnest.
Taberman contrasted curiously with his host. He was short and thickset,
with blue eyes and fair hair which showed a tendency to curl. As he
stood with shoulders turned to the wind, the square collar of his canvas
jumper was blown against his round pate, and made a background for his
tanned face. He held a briar drop-pipe between his teeth, and his hands
were thrust deep into his trousers pockets. Working his pipe into the
corner of his mouth, he spoke again.
"Hope this breeze won't trouble the old gentleman," he remarked, casting
a glance at the billowing double-headers that were driving by aloft.
The wind shrilled by the watchers on the jetty, clear, strong, and
salt.
"Guess not," replied Castleport; "anything short of a hurricane's a
sailing-wind for him. He's a mettlesome old chap."
"That's right enough. Can't have him spoiling our game by being late,
you know. Let's go up; it's getting beastly chilly."
They turned and walked along the pier. At the point where it met the
shore stood a small boathouse. Thence the ground, covered with a stunted
growth of spruce and fir, and the inevitable New England boulders, rose
abruptly. Directly in the line of the jetty the shingled roof of a small
house showed above the trees. To the westward, in the dimming afterglow
of the sunset, the Camden Hills stood out luminous, purple, yet rimmed
with a thread of golden fire. Away to the east, clad in soberer colors,
rose Mt. Desert, a mass of shadowy greens and blues. The steepness of
the path they were ascending soon cut off from the view of the young men
these beauties and grandeurs, which, however, they were probably not in
a mood to dwell upon; and a minute's walking brought them to the door of
the house, a small affair with high-pitched roof and broad veranda. Its
shingles were almost the color of the dark evergreens that encircled
the clearing in which it stood; its windows reflected with a vacant and
glassy stare the fast-fading light. Castleport opened the door for his
guest, and followed him into the living-room.
The darkness seemed the greater from its contrast with what light yet
remained outside, and not until Taberman had put a match to the pile of
old shingles and light driftwood in the wide fireplace could they see
fairly. The crimson glow showed a room some twenty feet square, with
windows on two sides,--the south and east. The joists and sheathing were
of planed spruce, left unpainted. The big Mexican fireplace of brick
occupied the northwestern corner; in the middle of the room stood
conspicuously a round deal table, covered with a litter of pipes,
tobacco, magazines, and nautical hardware; between the two eastern
windows, below a box-like cabinet which was attached to the wall, was a
smaller table with a square top, piled with books and charts. Beneath
the southern windows was placed a heavy desk with a faded baize top, the
cloth ink-stained and full of holes due to moths and carelessly handled
cigars. Of the happy-go-lucky assortment of chairs which completed the
furniture of the room, no large portion was in an entirely unbroken
condition, but all evidently were meant for service and ease. The walls
of the room were decorated with devices in scallop-shells and a few
unframed water-colors of the impressionist type. A large chart of
Penobscot Bay was tacked to the inside of the door, and a venerable
flintlock musket hung below a battered quadrant over the chimneypiece.
Everything was simple almost to rudeness, yet the place gave at once and
most strongly the impression of comfort and good-fellowship.
Castleport laid his binoculars on the desk, and, stepping to a door on
his right, opened it and called out:--
"Oh, Gonzague?"
"Sair?" promptly replied some one from beyond the short passage into
which he looked.
"Dinner when you're ready, Gonzague."
"A' right, sair."
Taberman had seated himself by the fire, and here Castleport joined him.
Each filled and lighted a pipe, and together they stared at the flames
roaring up the wide chimney. The smaller sticks already began to fall
apart, pitching outward or dropping between the dogs, and for some
moments the young men watched them in silence. At length, as Taberman
flung a fresh stick into the flames, Castleport spoke, half to himself.
"What a lesson it'll be to the old chap! My aunt! He'll grind his teeth
to powder!"
"Tooth-powder, eh?" queried the other with a grin. "But we must be sure
we have the laugh on the right side. It isn't merely the getting away
with the Merle that's the joke; it's the hanging on to her and bringing
her back safe."
"That's true enough," assented Castleport; "but with pluck and luck and
an eye to the three L's, we ought to manage."
"You'd better go over the whole plan for me, Jack; you haven't given me
half the details, and I'd like to know the latest version. It's
certainly important to have everything perfectly understood beforehand."
"All right; I'll go over the whole business after dinner, old man. We
will act the conspirators rehearsing their villainy; but let's wait for
food. I hate discussions on an empty stomach."
"Correct; here's Gonzague now."
A tall, gray-haired man, with a much-bronzed face, came in and began to
clear away the litter on the round table. He had a rugged,
weather-beaten countenance, with prominent features and luminous black
eyes. Beneath his big, hooked nose a large white mustache, stiff and
curled like that of a walrus, half hid a firm, full-lipped mouth. A
native of Provence,--soldier, sailor, cook, and deck-hand,--old Gonzague
Mairecalde had led sixty-odd years of exciting and polyglot existence,
the last three of which had been spent in Castleport's service. Dressed
in blue flannel trousers and an immaculate white jacket, the old man
moved noiselessly about, swiftly disposing of the things on the table.
He seemed to have a place for everything, and the lightest tread and
deftest hands imaginable. Having cleared away, he went out, and soon
reappeared with linen and service. In a short time the table was ready
for the bringing in of the food.
"A' ready, sair?" asked Gonzague, tugging at his mustache with his bony
fingers.
"Two minutes," answered Jack. "Come on, Jerry; let's scrub up."
In ten minutes they were seated before a dinner plain but hearty, well
cooked and appetizingly served. They were apparently not at all troubled
by any incongruity between their rough and not over-fresh sailor clothes
and the snowy napery and the silver on which the fire threw dancing and
wavering lights. On the walls opposite the fireplace mute, shadowy
grotesques helped each other to huge supplies from dishes of vague
outline and uncertain size, plied dark forks and spoons with ogre-like
gusto, or with heads thrown back and crooked elbows drank like trolls
from enormous tankards.
After dinner the table was cleared, a jug of ale was placed upon it,
with a plate of ship-biscuit and a supply of tobacco. It was the theory
of Castleport that the climate of the Island was English enough to
warrant this nightly attack upon the October, of which his uncle, who
owned the Island, kept always a butt in the cellar. In truth, the fresh
coolness of the air at night, the pleasant blaze of the fire, the
agreeable scent of burning tobacco, made a tankard or two of ale seem
hardly to need an excuse of any sort.
With the table pulled forward so that its edge came between them, their
pipes lit, their feet stretched out comfortably toward the hearth, the
pair of friends smoked for a time in silence, until at last Jack, after
refilling and relighting his pipe with great deliberation, broke into
speech.
"Before I go into the details of this job," he observed, "there's one
thing I have to say. It's a waste of breath for me to talk until I know
you're with me. I haven't done anything more than to ask you off-hand,
old man; now I'd like you to say seriously whether you'll come on this
cruise with me or not. I hate to be so horribly businesslike, Jerry,
especially in the matter of a lark; but in--er--larking on this scale,
things have got to be put on a definite basis,--be perfectly understood,
as you said before dinner."
Taberman gave his companion a sidelong glance, and began to smile. The
smile grew into an audible chuckle; and this in its turn developed into
a laugh increasing to a jovial roar.
"You solemn old pirate," he cried, "what sort of a quitter do you take
me for? I'll give you any kind of a promise you like, provided--_semper
more equitis_, you know--Can't bind myself to cut throats, scuttle
ships, fly the jolly roger, et cetera. What's your form of oath, eh? Do
we drink each other's blood out of a skull, or what?"
There was a boyish exuberance about Jerrold Taberman, a debonair
abandon, which he never could outgrow. It accorded well with his
youthful face and careless mien, which made him so marked a contrast to
his friend. Castleport, although impulsive and disposed to jollity as
only a hale and hearty young man of twenty-two can be, was, on the
whole, of a temperament the reverse of boisterous. He responded frankly
to Jerry's outburst.
"Well, old man," said he, "there's nothing more needed than your word
that you'll go, and stick it out to the end. I knew you would, Jerry.
Confound it, give us your flipper!"
In his enthusiasm he caught Taberman's hand and wrung it heartily, being
evidently moved more by some inner consciousness of the weighty nature
of the scheme he was about to outline than by anything that had actually
been said between them. Jerry laughed, and returned the grip with
interest.
"And now," continued Castleport, "I'll let you have particulars galore.
I'll tell you the beginning of it first: how the idea came to me. About
three weeks ago I decided I'd go abroad,--I wrote you, you remember.
Well, I went to Uncle Randolph, and asked him for a letter of credit.
That's what comes of the pleasant arrangement by which all my property's
in trust till I'm twenty-five! Beastly nuisance!"
"Of course it is," assented his companion. "It's queer your father made
such a will. However," he added, as if with the feeling that he was
perhaps touching upon delicate ground, "that's neither here nor there.
Heave ahead."
"You know why I wanted to go," Jack went on, "and so"--
"Slow up a bit," interrupted the other, mischief shining in his eyes;
"why should you want to go particularly?"
"Confound you!" retorted Castleport. "You know perfectly well! Do you
think it's any fun to be here when--when"--
"When Miss Marchfield's on the other side," finished Jerry, with the air
of enjoying a huge joke.
Jack shifted uncomfortably in his seat, leaned forward to rap the ashes
out of his pipe on the firedog, and then looked at his friend seriously.
"I won't be roughed, Jerry," he said. "You know perfectly well I'm dead
in earnest about her, and I'll thank you to let up."
"All right, Jack; I beg your pardon; but I would like to ask one thing.
It's not exactly my business, of course, but really it's something I'd
like to know in connection with this scheme."
"Fire away," Castleport said rather grimly.
"Well, then, what I want to know is why the President's so set against
your marrying Katrine Marchfield?"
"It isn't time to talk of marrying," Jack returned somewhat stiffly.
"She may have something to say to that."
"Of course, old fellow; but you know what I mean. What's his objection
to your trying?"
"I don't see how that affects the cruise, exactly, but I don't mind
telling you; only of course I shouldn't want it talked about. It's so
unreasonable, and honestly I should hate to seem to be giving Uncle
Randolph any sort of a black eye."
"I shouldn't repeat it, Jack; but you needn't say anything if you'd
rather not."
"It's only that it looks as if Uncle Randolph was infernally obstinate
and cranky, and he really isn't. He hadn't any reason to give me, that
amounted to anything. He talked about Katrine's not having any money;
but of course that's all poppy-cock. I've got a good bit myself when I
come into it, and he's always told me I should have all his. Of course
Katrine hasn't much, though she'll have something, I suppose, from her
aunt."
"Aunt?"
"Why, Mrs. Fairhew. Katrine's traveling with her now. She's the only
near relative Katrine has."
"But if it isn't money"--
"No, it isn't that. The truth is--I heard it from Mrs. Fairhew once; I
wasn't sure then, and I'm not now, whether she knew quite how much she
was telling me, and meant it for a warning, or not. I'm half inclined to
think she did."
"But what was it?" inquired Jerry, as Jack paused to meditate, with his
eyes fixed earnestly on the fire.
"Oh, Uncle Randolph had some sort of a row with Katrine's father when
they were young men. I fancy it was about a girl, for I know there was
one somewhere along about that time. I've heard father speak of it, and
say it altered Uncle Randolph's whole life. Anyway, there was some sort
of a scrap, and Uncle Randolph never forgave it."
"Humph!" was Taberman's comment. "It's rather crotchety of him to vent
his spite on Miss Marchfield."
"Of course it is," Castleport answered, "but he's not so bad as it
looks. He's been awfully good to me all my life."
A brief pause followed, in which both were probably reflecting upon the
character of Randolph Drake, one of Boston's prominent men, president of
one of the largest banks, and trustee of a dozen important corporations;
a man whose chief aim in life was, apparently, making money, whose
amusement was yachting. It was in connection with this sport that he had
a few years before bought the island and put up the house in which his
motives were now being discussed. The place served as a shooting-box or
as a base of supplies, and was provided with a trig little harbor
exactly adapted for the accommodation of the President's yacht, the
Merle.
"After all," Jack said at length, "Uncle Randolph really cares more for
me than he does for anything else in the world."
"And so when he suspected that you were going abroad to try to marry the
daughter of his old enemy, he wouldn't supply the funds."
"He can't seem to get it into his head that I am grown up, anyhow,"
grumbled Jack. "I've made up my mind now that I'll convince him that I
am."
"Why in the world didn't you borrow the money, Jack? That would have
been easy enough."
"Well, when I came of age I made Uncle Randolph a sort of a promise that
I wouldn't borrow. He put it that it would be evading the intent of my
father's will; and of course it would. Anyway, Uncle Randolph himself
put a bigger idea into my head. It took me one day and two nights,
mostly without sleep, to think it out, and then I got hold of you."
"How did he suggest it?"
"He was really sorry for me; I could see that. Only he had the air of
feeling I was so young that any other cake would do as well as the one
I wanted. The very day that he refused to let me go abroad, he suggested
that I come down here with Gonzague and some friend or other. He thought
that if I fooled round the bay until he came to pick me up on the Merle,
I should get over my wish to go abroad. He said I was run down, needed
change, and so on. He's coming June 5, and plans to go on down to the
Provinces. Then he said that after he had had his cruise on the Merle I
might perhaps like to have her a week or two myself. It was a mighty
great concession, let me tell you. When I think of taking the boat, I'm
half ashamed of myself, the old gentleman's so rum fond of her."
"And that put the notion into your head?"
"Yes, only not at the moment. I said to myself that if I was going to
cruise in the Merle I'd like to go across in her; but it wasn't till
that night, just as I was turning in, that the idea of getting her now
and running off came to me. It fairly bowled me over!"
"I should think it might!" laughed Taberman.
"At first it seemed the easiest thing in the world. Then I began to
think of objections, and as fast as I got one out of the way another
popped up. I've worked at it like a prize puzzle. I've got my crew
picked out, I've planned how to get possession of the yacht and to get
rid of her old crew; and then--Hurrah for the Mediterranean!"
"Oh, Jacko, you devil!" cried Taberman. "I wouldn't have believed you
had it in you! Do you really think we can do it?"
"Do it! Of course we'll do it. Didn't I tell you I'd got my crew
already? Ten strappers, not counting Gonzague."
"Did Gonzague kick?"
"Gonzague? Did you ever consider, Tab, those eyes of his, with that nose
and mouth?"
"No," Jerry responded, "I've never given his features any especial
critical overhauling."
"_Saracen!_" Jack said, lowering his voice. "When you see that
combination in a Spaniard or a Provençalese, it spells Moorish marauder
every time. He doesn't know it, I fancy; but there's good old ripe
Moorish pirate blood in him, and it came sizzling to the top the moment
I broached the scheme. Besides, Gonzague would have his throat cut for
me any time."
"That's so, but he's as honest an old soul as there is above ground."
"Of course I told him, and I told the crew, that it was a lark. You
know I've knocked about Penobscot Bay ever since I got out of the
nursery. Everybody knows me, and at Isle au Haut I've been so much that
I'm almost like one of their own pals to the natives. I got hold of my
men pretty easily. Of course they look on me as the same as the
President's son; and they were willing enough to leave the fishing for
better wages than they could earn anywhere else. They all like me, and
so of course they all take advantage of me in the way of wages."
"I confess I don't see where your economy comes in, Jacky," observed
Taberman, giving a poke to the wasting fire. "I don't know much about
expenses, but I should think it would cost as much to hire a crew as to
go without one."
Castleport grew grave and moved a little impatiently.
"There's a question for a casuist," he said. "I'm taking these men off
on the trust that Uncle Randolph will let me pay them when I get home.
It's a deuced sight more like borrowing than I wish it were, though of
course my allowance comes in; but I'm bound that he shall get it into
his head that I'm no longer in leading-strings, and"--
Taberman looked at him affectionately and comprehendingly.
"That'll be all right, old man," he said consolingly. "We'll get out of
that somehow. I'd like to see the President's face when he finds he's
left high and dry down here and the Merle has flitted across the
Atlantic without him."
"Oh, he won't be here. We'll capture the yacht at North Haven. I'll show
you the whole scheme to-morrow on the chart. I've brought down more than
a thousand for this coast and the Mediterranean! Now let's get to bed.
It's only a week or so that we have left to sleep with a clear
conscience."
Taberman rose from his seat, then without warning suddenly slapped his
knees with his hands and burst into a roar of laughter.
"Oh, by George," he cried, "what a jolt it'll be for Uncle Randolph!"
"That's the cream of the whole thing," responded Jack, joining in the
laugh. "He'll be so surprised to find out that I'm grown up."
[Illustration: Decoration]
Chapter Two
THE FOG COMES IN
The Casino at North Haven is a curious little box, known
locally--possibly from its situation at the end of a fairly long
wharf--as the "Fo'c'sle." It has but one room, paneled with imitation
Japanese carvings, and having an attractive divan-like seat in a wide
bay-window, where one may lounge and watch the vessels passing through
the Thoroughfare. Outwardly the building is very plain, its two
prominent features being the bay-window, which looks south, and a flight
of outside stairs on the west which lead to a little nest of a balcony
half hidden under the gable-end of the roof above this window.
The balcony is so covered by the peak of the roof that its interior is
not visible from the wharf, and a person sitting on the settle at the
back of it can be seen only from a boat some distance out on the water.
The Casino is little used, and although the caretaker unlocks the door
each morning, the place is more generally deserted than not. The
subscribers who come down to the wharf to start for rowing or sailing
sometimes step in, wait for friends, or use the place as a storage for
extra wraps; sometimes a riotous group of children holds brief but noisy
possession; but after sunset the solitude is generally unbroken until
ten o'clock, when the caretaker comes to lock up for the night. If the
weather be bad, it is not unusual for the Casino to remain unvisited for
the entire day. It affords a convenient shelter when it is needed,
however, and its wharf, with a float on either side, makes a good
landing-place; and it is, in a word, one of the numerous class of things
which in this world are not constantly in demand, but which, when they
are wanted at all, are wanted badly.
Here, on the evening of the fourth of June, Jerrold Taberman, wrapped in
a shapeless ulster,--for a thick fog was driving in from the
southeast,--sat awaiting his friend. Half an hour earlier Jack had gone
to get something to eat, and Jerry had agreed to meet him here. Taberman
was somewhat tired to-night, and beginning to feel the strain of three
crowded and exciting days in which he had had little time for anything
but action and sleep. The young men had completed their arrangements at
the Island, had left Gonzague in charge there, had notified the future
crew to report to the Provençalese on the evening of the third, and to
hold themselves in readiness to sail immediately on the arrival of the
Merle. The pair had then taken the big market-boat, a whitehall used for
bringing supplies from Isle au Haut, and with a couple of the most able
of the Isle au Haut men, selected beforehand, had sailed over to an
unfrequented cove in Vinal Haven, on the south side of the Thoroughfare.
There they encamped in hiding. They had reached their place of
concealment by night, and next afternoon had the satisfaction of seeing
the Merle come in from the westward and drop anchor just inside the
channel, off the "Fo'c'sle."
"By Jove, isn't she a fine sight!" Castleport exclaimed
enthusiastically; and Jerry assented no less warmly.
The Merle ran in under full sail, with a quartering breeze. Her clean
white hull, eighty-four feet on the water-line, her shining brasses, her
broad spread of snowy canvas, the easy run of her long counter, combined
to make a picture which, even personal interest aside, could not fail to
stir such enthusiasts as Jack and Tab.
On the evening of the arrival of the Merle two gentlemen and three
ladies had gone on board, evidently to dine, as they did not leave until
nearly ten o'clock. Castleport and Taberman, lying concealed among the
bushes overgrowing a tiny promontory on Vinal Haven, had watched all
this through their night-glasses. Jack, whose eyes were as keen as a
hawk's, had even thought that he could distinguish who the visitors
were. With guests on board there was evidently nothing that the
conspirators could do but to watch, and when this was over they smoked a
good-night pipe together over their campfire, and for the hundredth time
fell to considering their chances of success. Behind them in the shadow
lay the two sailors, wrapped in their blankets and sleeping the sleep
which only the genuine mariner knows; Jack glanced at them as if he felt
that somehow he was personally responsible for carrying through the
enterprise for which they had been enlisted.
"What the deuce shall we do if the President takes it into his head to
get under weigh for the island to-morrow?" Jerry demanded in a subdued
voice.
"Oh, that's all right," Jack answered in the same key. "He won't. He's
fond of North Haven; it's an old stamping-ground of his, and he'll never
go on without having had at least one night's bridge here. That's part
of the cruise. Besides, it's going to be thick, or I'm a duffer."
Thick it certainly was next day. The brisk southeasterly breeze that
blew through the Thoroughfare all day seemed to roll in white billows of
fog far more rapidly than it could take them out at the other end. The
strait acted as a sort of condenser, in which the mist became almost
tangibly more solid, until at nightfall it was, as one of Castleport's
men put it, "blacker 'n a tar-bucket." Under cover of the obscurity Jack
had had the market-boat reloaded with such necessities as they had
brought over for their camp, and rowed silently over to one of the
Casino floats. Here he and Taberman got out, and then the men, by his
orders, worked the boat into concealment between the spiles of the
wharf, there to await further orders, utterly invisible in the fog.
The two arch-conspirators mounted the wharf, and for some time kept
watch to see if any one came ashore from the Merle; but as the time wore
on to half-past seven they concluded that the President must be dining
on board. Assured of this, Jack left Jerry to keep watch, and went up to
the village bakery for food, dinner for himself and his friend having
been forgotten in the midst of more important things. Tab, left alone
in the wet darkness, had mounted to the balcony, and there sat in gloomy
state, wondering if Jack were never coming back. He had no light by
which to see his watch, but since he had heard seven bells from the
Merle he felt sure that eight o'clock must be close at hand, when his
attention was caught by the sound through the fog of the quick
_thud-thud_, _thud-thud_ of oars against thole-pins. In an instant he
was thoroughly alert, his senses primitively acute, and his growing
sensation of vague depression utterly dispelled. He heard some one pull
hastily to the "Fo'c'sle;" the muffled chugging of the oar-blades as the
rower held water; the gentle slapping of the boat's wash against the
float; and then the clatter of the oars on the thwarts. Then by the dim
light of the lantern at the end of the pier he saw a man spring on to
the east float and secure his boat; give a quick, nervous tug at the
painter to be sure that it was fast, and disappear from the field of
vision which was bounded by the edge of the sloping roof. He fancied he
heard a murmur as if the newcomer spoke a word of encouragement to the
sailors in damp concealment under the wharf, and then had hardly time to
wonder where Jack had been in a boat, before Castleport had run lightly
up the plank from the float to the pier, and thence up the steps to
Tab's place of concealment.
"Sit tight!" whispered Castleport breathlessly.
"What's--" began Jerry.
"Sh! We've the chance of a lifetime! I--I"--He gasped for breath, but
caught it with a great gulp, and hurried on. "I've been aboard, Tab!
Come in, man! Get back, get back!" He forced his friend into a seat in
the farthest corner of the little balcony, caught his breath again, and
began to chuckle. The sound of oars was again audible,--this time the
steady, measured stroke of a heavy boat well pulled.
"Here's Uncle Randolph," cried Jack with a sort of whispered shout.
"Here's Uncle Randolph!" And seizing his friend by the shoulders, he
shook him and banged his head noiselessly against the wall for sheer
glee.
"Stop, Jacko, stop it! Hold up, or by Jumbo I'll yell! Look there! Here
they are."
As the pair hurried cautiously to look out over the edge of the balcony,
a large cutter, pulled by six men, came out of the fog into the dim
illumination of the pier-light. Three gentlemen in light overcoats were
visible in the stern-sheets, the one in the middle steering. A little
removed from the President and the two men who were evidently his
guests, sat one of the officers of the Merle.
"Way enough," called the steersman in a sharp voice.
"Oh, my aunt!" whispered Tab, giving Jack a nudge. "The President has
very little idea that he's made all the way in the Merle he's likely to
for one while."
The cutter ran smoothly along beside the float.
"In bows! Fend off, there!"
At the word the oars were unshipped, and a couple of sailors caught the
rope which edged the staging. The cutter came to a stop. A seaman leaped
out and held the boat, the officer sprang to the float and presented an
arm for the President and his guests as they stepped to land.
"We'll be down at eleven," the President said to the officer. "If you
want an hour or two ashore, there's some sort of a shindy going on
opposite the post office, I believe--dance or something. Mind you're
sharp on time for me, though."
"All right, sir. Eleven o'clock it is, sir," returned the officer,
touching his cap deferentially as the three gentlemen turned away.
"Great Scott!" cried Jack into Tab's ear in an excited whisper. "Do you
suppose the President's going to get rid of all those men for me
himself? Was ever such luck!"
The boat still lay at the landing. The men began to discuss going
ashore, and every word was easily audible to the two watchers in the
balcony.
"I vote we go," quoth he with the boat-hook. "It ain't every day the old
hunks gives us a chance to stretch a leg ashore."
"It'll be dry, Tom," spoke up one in the boat. "Ye won't get so much as
a swig o' cider-water this side o' Bar Harbor."
"Well, boys, let's try it, anyhow," advised the officer. "If it's dry
there, it's wet enough here."
"That's right," responded another. "Damn yer slops, Bill, ye dude; the'
're's good as mine, an' any togs is good enough for po'r Jack. Let's go
ashore an' take a look at these Thoryfare bewties."
This seemed to settle it. The boat was made fast, and the men straggled
up the pier, talking and laughing as they went.
Tab and Jack fairly hugged each other in delight at this development,
and then Jerry opened fire.
"You said you'd been aboard," he began, "what"--
"When I left the bakery," Jack answered, without waiting for the
question to be finished, "I said to myself that the fog was so thick it
would be perfectly safe to take a boat and row out, on the chances that
I might find out something. I meant to get astern of the Merle and give
the wind a chance to bring me some of the talk aboard. I borrowed a
little pea-pod from the pier behind Staples', and out I went. When I got
to the yacht, I found I could lay alongside, for there wasn't a soul on
deck. I hauled off my jacket and hung it over the boat's side for a
fender, so she wouldn't make any noise, and took the painter in my fist.
Then I stood on the thwart and jumped for the rail on the port side."
"You'd have made the devil of a mess if you'd missed it," commented
Jerry.
"But I didn't. I got hold, but, Gad, I came near going overboard!"
He stopped to laugh, this time fearlessly aloud, while Jerry chuckled.
"I lay flat along the bulwark," Jack went on, "by the main rigging. The
skylight-covers were on, of course, but the frames were half up, and I
could get scraps of the talk in the cabin. The men Uncle Randolph's got
along with him are old Melford and Tom Bardale. I thought I'd die to
hear them go on. Old Melford was grumbling away,--he's always an awful
croaker, you know. He piped up once, and said it was just his luck to
have to suffer both fog and bridge when he came for solid cruising.
Uncle Randolph and Bardale both poo-poohed him, and asked him if he'd
rather play slap-Jack. The old boys are going to play bridge
somewhere,--I didn't find out where, but it doesn't matter; they're
settled, anyway. I didn't hear anything else, for I'd hardly time to
drop into the pea-pod and get out of the way of the men from the
fo'c'sle that came out to haul in the cutter on the boat-boom. I rushed
ashore as tight as I could pelt, and you saw the rest. This dance
business, too! Luck's with us!"
He stopped, all but breathless. With one accord the pair started for the
stairs, and took their way to the pier, where the lantern made a dim and
watery illumination in the midst of the fog. Castleport seized Jerry by
the arm and led him to the edge of the pier.
"With this wind," he said with great earnestness, "we'd best run out to
the westward, and beat along the south of Vinal Haven. We'll have more
sea-room, and with the weather as thick as this, I don't deny that even
that's risky enough."
"It is a nasty night," Taberman assented with emphasis. "Are you for
going outside Wooden Ball Island?"
"Tell that when we've got by Dogfish and the rest of 'em," replied Jack
briefly. "I mean to leave that to Dave, anyhow."
"You're dead sure you want to do it, old man?" queried Tab with the air
of one who would not have asked the question had he not been confident
that the answer would be in the affirmative.
"I'd do it ten times over just for the lark!" snorted Jack. "Now
then--business!"
They descended the ladder to the eastern float, and Castleport called
out guardedly to the men who had all this time been lying concealed in
the market-boat under the wharf. A slight bumping, a muttered oath, the
rattle of an oar on the thwart, and then the nose of the boat emerged
from beneath the pier. A vigorous thrust with the boat-hook against one
of the outer stringers shot her up alongside the float.
"All right?" inquired Jack.
A stoutly built man of short stature standing in the bow of the boat
answered.
"Right enough, sir; but a mite holler."
"Well, Dave, we'll fix that in a spell," said Jack. "We've got a bit to
do first, though. Let's have your watch, Tab."
He pulled out his own as he spoke, and took Jerry's with it in one hand.
Then with the other hand he struck a match, which he craftily sheltered
from the wind.
"You're a minute fast of me, Jerry," he commented, throwing away the
match and returning the watch. "I say eight seventeen, and you say eight
eighteen. You and Jim take the market-boat and go over to the other
float. Take the Merle's cutter and tow her out to one of the moorings
off the club here. At eight forty-eight sharp,--just half an hour,--you
hail the Merle. Sing out like the deuce, and tell 'em to send a boat
ashore. I'll see that they send one, and that when they've left there'll
be nobody aboard but me. In about fifteen minutes from now a boat'll
come ashore, but you needn't mind her. Dave'll look out for that
business. Just you pick out some mooring a bit to windward of the direct
line between the yacht and the Casino, so they shan't spot you. When you
hear a boat coming in answer to your hail, you come out yourselves, and
tow the cutter. That you're to make fast astern the Merle. Got it all
clear?"
"I guess so," Jerry answered. "I don't notice a boat till eight
forty-eight; then I hail, and when I hear a boat coming in answer I cut
out to the Merle. Give me some matches to see the time with. Well, good
luck, old man; be sharp, or you'll dish the whole game."
With this parting caution Taberman stepped into the market-boat, while
Dave got out. Oars were not needed, but Jerry and the sailor easily
pulled the market-boat around by the spiles to the other float, where
they lay concealed in the rolling fog.
"Now then, Dave," Jack said as they disappeared, "you and I are the ones
that are going to open this ball. You take me out, set me aboard just as
if you did that sort of thing regularly,--do you see? As if I'd paid you
a quarter for setting me aboard, you know. Then you row back. Here's a
boat that'll do," he broke off, pointing to a small whitehall boat made
fast to the staging. "Get in, and pull me out."
The pair stepped into the little craft, and when Dave began rowing Jack
continued his instructions.
"When you get back to the float," he said, "you just make this boat
fast, and hide under the shadow of those stairs on the outside of the
Casino--you know?"
"Yes, sir."
"Wait for a boat from the yacht with three or four men in it.--Pull on
your port oar a bit; that's good.--When they get ashore and go up the
wharf, you take their tender and rush her out to a mooring same as Mr.
Taberman's done. Do you see?"
"Guess so, sir," was Dave's response. "Do you want me to catch the same
one?"
"Any one'll do, provided it won't be seen by a boat pulling ashore from
the Merle. You won't have to go far to hide in this fog.--Little
stronger on your port oar again; tide's cutting you down.--When you hear
Mr. Taberman hailing, you stand by, and as soon as a boat goes by in
answer, you pull out to the yacht and make fast astern. Give her plenty
of painter; all she's got. Do you see now?"
"I guess I do, sir. You're going to have a boat on every davit that way,
ain't you, sir?"
"If it works," Jack answered in a low voice, for they were now under the
yacht's port quarter.
Dave pulled around in silence to the steps on the starboard side.
"Here we are, sir," he said in an even tone as he caught at the ladder
grating.
The Merle, dimly visible by the foggy glow of her riding-light, was
pitching slightly in the chop, and the small dinghy bobbed up and down
beside her like a cork beside a floating spar. The waves slapped against
the yacht's sheer, wetting her top-sides with spray and poppling away
merrily under her counter. In the thick dimness her masts loomed up
almost supernaturally tall.
"Hello aboard the Merle," shouted Castleport.
"Hello?" answered a voice from forward, and in a moment a tall, burly
figure appeared on deck by the ladder.
"What is it?" asked the tall man. "What d' you want?"
"Hello, Camper," cried Jack, recognizing the voice as that of his
uncle's sailing-master. "Hello, Camper, don't you know me?"
He sprang up the steps and gained the deck.
"Why, Mr. Castleport," the skipper cried in a hearty tone, "whatever are
you doin' here? Thought you was over to the Island. How are you, sir?"
"Cold," Jack answered with a laugh. "How's yourself? Fit as usual, I
suppose. President aboard?"
"No, sir. He's gone ashore to some sort of a gatherin'. I never thought
to see you here, sir."
"Oh, I came over to join the yacht here. I got tired of waiting. I
shan't want you any longer," he called down to the figure in the dinghy
below. "Much obliged."
The dinghy and Dave melted into the blackness of the night.
"Come below, Mr. Castleport, sir. You'll have a bracer?" the genial
sailing-master asked. "Nasty night, ain't it?"
"It is that," Jack agreed, "but I'm in hopes there'll be a change soon."
And smiling at the thought how truly the words expressed his secret
intent, he followed the worthy Camper below.
[Illustration: Decoration]
Chapter Three
IT BLOWS SOUTHEAST
The saloon of the Merle was a spacious cabin, paneled in Cuban cedar.
Along both sides ran transoms cushioned in dark green corduroy, which
contrasted pleasantly with the red of the woodwork. On either side of
the companion-way were big closets, the doors of which, framing large
mirrors, opened forward against the after ends of the transoms. Both to
port and to starboard the cabin was lined with lockers for flags,
charts, and bottles, except where the recessed bookcases came in the
middle. Large nickeled Argand lamps to port and starboard on the for'ard
bulkhead illuminated the interior. Sheathed in cedar, the butt of the
schooner's mainmast stood in the fore part of the saloon; and aft from
it ran a mahogany table around which were placed some
comfortable-looking chairs. All in all, the impression of power and
grace which one received from regarding the outside of the Merle was
equaled by the feeling of comfort, and, indeed, almost of luxury, one
had upon viewing her below decks.
It was in this pleasant retreat that Jack had settled himself in less
than a minute after his arrival on the yacht. The good skipper, who had
kept an almost fatherly eye on the youth ever since he was old enough to
"fist a rope," sat uneasily on the edge of the divan on the port side.
Jack, sprawled out on the opposite transom, lit a cigarette, and looked
up at the skylight.
"My aunt! But I'm glad to be aboard again," he declared. "How is
everything? What sort of a run down did you have?"
"Pretty fair, sir," returned the master. "We went to Marblehead, and
then to Portsmouth. Mr. Drake, he spent the time in seeing his friends.
Then we run to Portland, and then to Boothbay. We run in here yesterday.
Nothin' much to tell of on the cruise."
"You've made schedule time," Jack commented. "You are here just when you
were due."
"Yes, we got here," Camper assented, "though 't one time, when I see the
stores that had to come aboard, I doubted if we should get started for a
week."
"More stores than usual?" queried Jack, with a little spark of interest
in his eye.
"Well, Mr. Drake, he 'lowed that last year when we got becalmed down
the coast some of the provisions fell short, and he vowed he'd never get
caught in that shape again; so this time he's stocked up fit to do the
Nor'west Passage. He's got every kind of a thing to eat that man ever
put into tins, you may bet your life."
"Trust him to have an eye to the galley," laughed Jack, reflecting how
satisfactory a complement to the plain provisions waiting at the Island
would be this extensive assortment of choice eatables. "Well, I'm for
sleeping aboard. Can you give me a lift with my luggage?"
Everything he had said since he came on board had been preliminary to
this. His one chance of getting the sailing-master to a safe distance
lay in inducing Camper to go ashore on an errand. To this question the
skipper replied, Yankee fashion, with another.
"Where is it, sir?"
"Go to Mullin's and tell 'em you're from me;--you'd better do it
yourself, Camper;--and get them to give you a steamer-trunk and two
bags. Do you know the place? It's the only boarding-house there is in
the village. Anybody can tell you."
"I know it, sir. 'Bout a cable's length up the road."
"Yes; that's it. I don't think you'll find the trunk heavy," Jack went
on, with a secret inclination to speak very fast and a consciousness
that he must appear cool and deliberate. "Of course you'll take a couple
of men to tote it, but I don't like to send an ordinary seaman up
there."
He wondered what he should reply if asked why not; but Camper, who had
long been trained under President Drake to habits of unquestioning
obedience, replied with perfect simplicity:--
"All right, sir, I'll have it aboard in half an hour. Your old
stateroom's all ready, I believe. You just ring for the steward if you
want anything, sir."
"Thanks," responded Jack, taking a book from its place as he spoke, as
if with the intention of settling himself to read.
Camper withdrew, and Jack listened eagerly till he heard footsteps on
the deck, the rattle of the davit-tackle, the splash of the boat
alongside, and then the rhythm of receding oars. The moment he was sure
of not being seen by the skipper he closed his book with a bang, flung
it on the table, looked at his watch, and went hurriedly on deck. In the
lee of the mainmast he paused to light a fresh cigarette, and then began
untying the cover of the mainsail, loosening the points and pulling
them through the grommets. As he worked his way aft, he suddenly
thought he heard the sound of oars. He stopped to make sure: there could
be no doubt of it; some one was pulling toward the Merle. In a flash
Jack saw his scheme ruined in any one of a thousand ways. He set his
teeth and ran over rapidly in his head the possibilities, but without
reaching any satisfactory conclusion. Then he walked aft, and putting
his hands on the rail, bent over the yacht's port quarter and peered
into the fog. With a feeling of relief he realized from the sound and
time of the strokes that the approaching boat was a small one, and was
pulled by one pair of oars only. He had hardly decided this when he
discerned the cause of his alarm, and almost laughed to see nothing more
formidable than a small pea-pod, pulled by a boy. The rower came
alongside and rested on his oars, while Jack watched him curiously.
"Is that Mr. Drake's vessel?" inquired the boy.
"Yes," Jack returned. "What's wanted?"
"The postmaster said 'f I'd bring ye these letters ye'd give me a
quarter," replied the youthful oarsman.
"Mr. Drake isn't aboard now," said Jack.
"Well, ye c'n give me my quarter jes' the same," the boy rejoined. "I'll
let ye hev the letters, 'n' he'll make it right with ye later. He lef'
word this evenin' for his mail to be brung him every time it come, an'
't was that foggy the Sylvy got in late from Rocklan', 'n' I couldn't
get roun' to bring it out before. 'Twan't sorted till after Mr. Staples
hed his supper."
"All right," Jack said hastily. "Come alongside."
He feared to create suspicion, and felt that the only thing to do at the
moment was to get rid of the boy. He gave the youth a quarter, and took
the letters in exchange, mentally saying to himself that he hoped they
were not of importance. The boy went pulling away as if in most unusual
elation, and Castleport, thrusting the letters into the breast pocket of
his coat, returned to his work. He had not quite finished untying the
points when he heard Jerry's hail from the mooring.
"Merle, ahoy! Ho-ro aboard the Merle!" came booming through the fog in
Taberman's most stentorian tones.
Jack placed himself in the companion-way as if just emerging from the
cabin, and waited for another hail.
"Merle ahoy! Aho-o-o-y aboard the Merle!" again rang through the thick
night above the sound of the wind, the water, and the cordage.
"Hallo-o-o!" bawled back Castleport.
"Send ... boat ... ashore!" came the voice.
Jerry was apparently able to outroar all the bulls of Bashan, and was
doing his worst.
"Aye--oh!" Jack yelled in reply, and walked quickly forward.
The steward had heard the rumpus, and was standing in the forecastle
companion. Capless, and wearing his white jacket, he gaped about like a
quizzical seal.
"Some one hailing from the shore," said Jack shortly; "want a boat.
Don't know what you'll take unless you go in the longboat. Tell the
men."
"Beg pardon, sir; there's only me and the cook and two hands aboard.
It'll take us all to pull the longboat."
The steward had a slow, exasperating whine which always irritated Jack.
"Then you'll have to take an oar," Jack responded roughly. "There's some
one ashore waiting, and I said I'd send a boat. Get a move on. I'll
watch ship."