ON THE "TWIN SISTERS."
Ned opened his eyes. His first thought was that he was in his bunk on
the _Seneca_. But an instant's glance about at his surroundings soon
dispelled that idea.
He lay on a rough shelf, rather than bunk, on a pile of dirty blankets.
Another frowsy covering was thrown over him. Above him were beams and
cross planks by which he would have known, even had it not been for the
motion, that he was on board a vessel of some sort.
The place in which he found himself was clearly a small cabin. In the
center of the forward bulkhead stood a rusty stove with a high rail
to keep the pots and pans simmering on it from sliding off under the
motion of the ship.
Some sea clothes swung from a line stretched across the ceiling. In a
corner, against a locker, stood some hip boots, above which oil-skin
coats were hung. The place was dirty, stuffy and smoky to the last
degree. The last mentioned attribute was not improved by the sooty
radiance from a dim lantern swinging from one of the carlines.
"Where on earth--what----?" muttered Ned, raising himself on one arm as
he made his survey.
And then, like the inrush of the tide, memory came back.
The storm, the wild ride of the motor boat! The confession of Kenworth,
the yielding of the note book, and then the last terrible scene when
the immense black mountain that towered above them for a flash had
engulfed and broken them!
Ned felt weak and dizzy. But his mind rapidly cleared. He had a vague
recollection of having been struck a blow when the motor boat was cut
in half. Beyond that he knew nothing more. Yet he must have been
rescued. Determined to unravel the mystery and also to ascertain if
possible what had become of Kenworth and Saki, he made an effort to
rise.
But he was so weak that it was some moments after he had made the first
attempt that he succeeded. His coat hung near him on a hook. His shirt
and trousers he had on. His first action, when he reached for his coat,
was to dive into its pockets in search of the book he had forced from
Kenworth.
He gave an exclamation of satisfaction as he felt its outlines and drew
it forth. It was damp, but not wet within its covers, for the outside
of the volume that contained so many of Uncle Sam's secrets was clasped
tightly by a strong rubber band. This had kept the water from smudging
any of the drawings or writing.
But Ned just then did not give much thought to the book, precious to
him though it was. His main object was to discover just where he was
and how he came there. There was a steep little stairway, or ladder,
opposite the stove.
Ned climbed it and found himself on the stern deck of a small schooner.
She was spanking along, eating her way up against a head breeze while
great clouds of sparkling spray tossed over her thundering, pounding
bow.
Standing beside the wheel was a short, thick-set man with iron-gray
whiskers shot with reddish hair. He was roughly dressed and a
pipe,--short and thick like himself,--was in his mouth.
By his side sat a one-eyed black and white dog, with one ear cropped
and the other hanging down dejectedly. Forward, Ned saw two men
attending to the jib sheets as the schooner came about and went away on
another tack.
The man at the wheel being too busy in attending to this maneuver to
notice Ned, the Dreadnought Boy, with the thunder of the shivering
sails in his ears, looked about him. He instantly recognized their
whereabouts. The schooner was crossing New York Bay.
Looking back he could see the battlemented spires and domes of the
skyscrapers on the lower end of Manhattan Island, and further up the
East River the spidery outlines of Brooklyn Bridge. Ferryboats moved
rapidly to and from Staten Island, and close at hand a big tramp was
coming along, making for her dock in the Erie Basin.
As the rattle and bang of the sails ceased as they took the wind and
the schooner filed off on the other tack, the thick-set man at the
wheel gave his attention to Ned. So did the dog. It came sniffing
around his ankles growling ominously.
The bearded man removed his pipe.
"Here you, Tops'l, go off on another tack, d'ye hear? Starboard, hard
over!"
The sea-going canine appeared to understand, for it relinquished its
scrutiny of Ned and came over to its master.
"Inter drydock with you, you flea-chawed stepson of a coyote," grunted
the man, and then he was free to turn his attention to Ned.
"Hello!" he grunted gruffly. "How yer feelin'?"
"Pretty good, thanks," responded Ned. "I guess it's you I have to thank
for saving me from the Sound last night, for I see by the sun that its
near noon of another day."
"'Tis that. We lost a lot of time down ther East River. It's gittin' so
that tugs clutters up the river worser nor taxicabs does the streets.
But we come down under sail. No fifteen dollars down fer me, thank you."
He looked oddly at Ned from under his bushy eyebrows.
"Can you anyways recall jes' what happened las' night?" he asked
presently.
Ned shook his head.
"I've not the least idea," he said. "All I know is that something cut
our motor boat in two and then everything got dark. By the bump I've
got on my head, I imagine something hit me. But there were two other
men in the boat with me. Do you know anything about them?"
The bushy brows contracted. The man looked away, removed his pipe, spat
reflectively and then faced Ned again.
"I don't know nuthin' about nobody but you," he said, in the same odd
way, and then he returned to his previous question.
"You don't recklect nuthin' more'n what you told me?"
"That is absolutely all," rejoined Ned, puzzled by the man's insistence
on this one question.
"Well, then it weren't me as run you down. I don't want no claim for
damages on the _Twin Sisters_."
"You won't have any, so far as I'm concerned," said Ned, a light
beginning to dawn upon him; "but tell me how you came to pick me up?"
"I'll tell you the way of it, no deception and no lies," said the
bushy-browed man. "Cap'n Lemuel Briggs ain't the man to lie. Look at
me. Do I look like a man who would inwent of malice aforethought a
faberrycation?"
"You don't," replied Ned, inwardly thinking that Captain Briggs did not
to any vast extent measure up to his description of himself.
"Very well, then, matey, you shall have the truth on it," said Captain
Briggs, with a fine open air. "There ain't a man from here plumb to the
Pearly Gates that could ever accuse me of ex-er-ager-ation.
"Arter we--that is, arter we seen that other schooner run yer down, I
puts my wheel hard over. Then I sends a man up in the bow to look out
fer anyone that he could save, me being one of the most humane skippers
that ever used a handspike on a frisky deckhand. He climbs down into
the bobstay riggin' and the first thing he catches sight of is you,
right under the bow. He grabs you and we gets you on deck and puts you
to bed, and now here you are up again, bright and spry, and ready to
pay liberal for yer rescue, I hopes."
Ned looked embarrassed. Although he was pretty sure that Captain
Briggs' schooner, despite the captain's asseverations to the contrary,
was the one that had run down the motor boat, he still felt grateful to
the man for being the means of saving his life. But his pocketbook had
been stolen by Kenworth and Saki, no doubt in the hope that it might
contain papers of value.
He was penniless. His embarrassment must have showed pretty plainly on
his face, for Captain Briggs gave a wave of his hand.
"That's all right, matey," he said magnanimously. "I kin see that you
come of good folks and kin pay well. If you ain't got much with you
now, you can write me a check or we'll wait till you can take me to
your folks."
"But I haven't any folks here, nor have I a check-book or any large
sums of money anywhere," said Ned, perplexed about getting out of this
unforeseen difficulty. "Where are you bound for?" he added.
The captain looked cunning. He laid his finger to one side of his
pimply, bottle-shaped nose.
"That's a bit of a secret, my lad. But I don't mind telling you this.
It's on the Jersey shore above Perth Amboy."
"Very well, then," said Ned relieved, "you put me ashore in Perth Amboy
and I'll send you whatever money I can raise to any address you give."
The captain stared at him as if in deep thought. For a moment he said
nothing. Then he found words.
"Ain't you a nice one ter try yer deceivin' ways on poor ole Cap'n
Briggs?" said he in an injured tone. "Fellers like you ain't ridin'
roun' in motor boats with no money to do it on. You'll stay right here
with me till you send for a messenger or telegraft or find some way to
have the money paid right over to me."
"How much do you want?" asked Ned.
"Three hundred dollars, my lad, and little enough that is to a young
millionaire like you."
"But I couldn't get that much, anyhow," gasped Ned.
"Then I'm werry sorry to be obleeged to state that you'll stay here
with me until yer do," responded Cap'n Briggs.
He cast a cunning glance at Ned from under his bushy brows out of his
bleary, blood-shot eyes. Then he dived into his pocket and produced a
large flask.
"I won't treat you no ways mean. Have a drink, matey?" he asked.
"I wouldn't touch the stuff," said Ned, who began to see a partial
reason for the captain's obstinacy.
The captain shrugged his shoulders and took a long pull. Then, wiping
his mouth with the back of his hand, he replaced the bottle and gave an
order to "Haul sheets and go about once more."
"Looks like I'm destined to get into tight places that I can never
explain to anyone's satisfaction," mournfully muttered Ned to himself,
as the little schooner yawed and pitched and finally clawed her way
round on the other tack.