HOW IT RESULTED.
When the crew of the Storm King saw the flames coming out of the
fore-hatchway, and learned from the anchor watch that Tom Newcombe had
turned up again, and that he had been on board the yacht, to carry out
that "splendid idea" of which he had spoken, their amazement and
indignation knew no bounds; and there was not one among them who would
not willingly have given up all his chances for promotion, if he could
have had that boy within reach of his arm for one minute. And when
Midshipman Richardson, flying down the harbor in the jolly-boat, heard
the fire-bell ring, and, looking over his shoulder, saw the smoke
ascending from his vessel, he placed his hand on the cutlass which hung
at his side, and told himself that, if he could only get one finger on
the collar of Tom Newcombe's jacket, he would capture him or perish in
the attempt. If Tom had only known it, he had, at last, succeeded in
thoroughly arousing the students. They had thus far treated him much
more leniently than he deserved--not out of any love for him, but
because of their respect and affection for his father; but now they had
one and all resolved that he had done damage enough. He need not try to
save himself by flight, for he could not do it. They would hunt him high
and low, and they would find him, too; and when they got their hands on
him, they would see that he did not escape the consequences of his last
act. Of course the students never said all this, for they were so busy
that they did not have time to say any thing; but they were as
determined about it, and as certain of each other's assistance, as
though they had talked the matter over, and already decided upon a
general plan of action.
The first lieutenant had never in his life been more astonished and
alarmed. That his evil genius should reappear again so suddenly, when
every body believed him to be miles away, and that he should have the
audacity to board the vessel, and set fire to her under the very noses
of the anchor-watch, when he knew that the chances were not one in ten
that he could escape detection, was almost incredible. Harry could not
understand it. It showed what a reckless, vindictive fellow Tom Newcombe
was, and how determined he was, too, when he once made up his mind to
any thing.
"You've reached the end of your rope, my hearty," were the first
thoughts that passed through Harry's mind. "You've got to lead Crusoe
life now, sure, for you can never return to this village." Then he
stamped his foot on the deck, and looking impatiently down the harbor in
the direction the jolly-boat had gone, exclaimed, aloud: "O, what shall
I do? That villain has tied my hands, and I can't even pursue him.
Richardson, if you know what you are about you will not let him escape
you this time."
Having succeeded in working off a little of his surplus indignation, the
lieutenant seemed, for the first time, to realize that the fire-bell was
ringing in his ears, that his little vessel was being slowly consumed
before his eyes, and that his men were looking to him for orders. He had
stood inactive on his quarter-deck not more than a minute, and during
that time the men had been filing up from below, bringing their
hammocks, which they stowed away in the nettings with as much care and
precision as though they had just been called up to their morning's
duties, instead of midnight fire-quarters. As fast as they disposed of
their beds, they sprang to their stations, and presently the first
lieutenant saw before him twenty young tars, some at the pumps, others
at the fire-buckets, ready to pass the water when the word was given, a
couple with axes in their hands, the boatswain's mate holding the nozzle
of the hose, and all awaiting his commands. Not a boy moved, and not an
eye was turned from the first lieutenant, although the smoke began to
rise in greater volume from the hatchway, showing that the fire was
making rapid progress. Naval discipline had been strictly carried out,
and Harry felt ashamed of himself when he reflected that he was the only
one on board who had shown any signs of excitement.
"Fire in the galley!" shouted the lieutenant. "Break down on that pump!
Pass up the water! Mr. Jackson, close the main hatch, and every other
opening except the door of the galley."
The sailors jumped at the word. The boatswain's mate dived through the
smoke with the hose; the buckets began to fly along the lines; the boys
at the pump came down manfully; and soon a furious hissing and steaming
below told the first lieutenant that the water was pouring into the
galley. Harry fumed inwardly because he could not go down and use a
bucket with the others. But his place was on deck, where he could see
all that was going on, and could be readily found by his officers, in
case they had any thing important to report.
"I'm an unlucky fellow," said he, pacing nervously back and forth, and
unconsciously making use of Tom Newcombe's favorite expression. "First,
I was captured by a crew of pirates, who tried their best to sink me; I
came near having my commission revoked because their leader escaped; and
now I am set on fire! What could have possessed that fellow to come back
here? Where has he been? What has he been doing? Where is he now? What
is the prospect, Mr. Jackson?" he added, turning to the second
lieutenant, who at that moment came up, all begrimmed with smoke and
dirt, and drenched with water.
"It is not very flattering, sir," was the reply. "The wind comes strong
down the fore-hatch, and fans the flame."
"Shut the galley, and knock a hole through the door for the hose," said
Harry, promptly. "If the fire continues to gain headway, we must cut
into the deck to give the buckets a chance. What will become of us if we
lose the vessel, Jackson?"
"We're not going to lose her, sir," replied the lieutenant; and Harry
was greatly encouraged to hear him speak so confidently. "She will
capture Tom Newcombe and his band of freebooters for us yet."
Jackson ran off to obey the orders of his superior, and the first
lieutenant stopped the buckets (for, of course they could not be used
when the galley door was closed), and waited impatiently for the next
report. Up to this time he had been so engrossed with his work, that he
could not have told whether he was alone in the harbor or not; but now
he was reminded of the fact that there were vessels all around him, and
found that the Storm King had suddenly become an object of interest to
their crews. A yawl came alongside, and half a dozen men, armed with
axes and buckets, sprang over the rail. They were led by an old,
gray-headed sea captain, who, the moment he touched the deck, demanded
in a voice that could have been heard above the roar of a hurricane:
"Who's master of this craft?"
"I am in command, sir," replied the first lieutenant.
"You!" exclaimed the old sailor, looking first at Harry's uniform, and
then toward the galley, taking in at one swift glance all the
preparations that had been made for putting out the fire. "Well, what
have you done, little marline-spike?"
"I've stopped the draft, and am throwing water on the fire as fast as I
can."
"If you want any help say the word. I've got a boat's crew here. If
you've no objections, I'll just step down and take a squint at things.
Perhaps a few suggestions from an old fellow who has had two vessels
burned under him in mid-ocean wouldn't come amiss."
"O, no, sir," replied Harry, gratefully. "I shall be glad to listen to
your advice. It won't do to let this fire get started in the harbor."
"It would ruin me," replied the captain. "That's my vessel over there,
and she is all I have in the world. If I lose her, I shall be high and
dry aground."
Harry did not wonder that the old sailor felt uneasy. He was so nervous
himself that he could not stand still, and he became appalled when he
thought of the possible consequences of Tom Newcombe's attempt to carry
out his "splendid idea." He had placed a million dollars' worth of
property in jeopardy, and all to satisfy an unreasonable grudge against
his father, the students, and the principal of the academy. If the fire
he had kindled in the galley of the Storm King should spread to the
shipping in front of Mr. Newcombe's elevator, Tom might be revenged in a
way he had not thought of. He had promised to raise a breeze in the
village, that would lead the people there to believe that they had never
known any thing about him, and he had succeeded beyond his most sanguine
expectations.
The uneasiness was not confined to the crews of the vessels that were
moored about the yacht--it began to spread through the town. Mr.
Newcombe's night watchman, who had by this time been discovered and
released, had found out that there was something unusual going on, and
he was ringing the bell on the elevator, as if his life depended upon
his arousing the village in the shortest possible space of time. Then
the alarm bells, and the big bell at the academy joined in, the fire
engines rattled through the streets, men began to run about the wharves,
and in a few minutes all Newport was in commotion. Some thought the town
was on fire; but the flames had thus far been confined to the galley of
the Storm King, and, thanks to Harry and his crew, they were likely to
remain there.
"What do you think of it, sir?" asked the first lieutenant, when the old
sailor returned from the galley.
"O, it's all right. I couldn't see much on account of the smoke; but
there's no danger now if you keep the draft shut away from it."
Before Harry could reply, another yawl dashed up alongside the yacht,
and a second party of sailors clambered over the side, headed by a
burly, red-whiskered man, who seemed to be in a terrible rage about
something.
"It beats the world what little sense some people have," said he,
hurrying up to the old captain, who was standing beside Harry. "The idea
of giving a lot of little brats like these full charge of a vessel! I've
had my eye on this craft ever since I've been in port. I've said a
dozen times that she'd get us into trouble, sooner or later, and now my
words are coming true. The whole harbor will be in a blaze in five
minutes. Peters," he added, turning to one of his men, "kick those young
sea-monkeys out of the way, and put out that fire."
Harry overheard the order, and so did Lieutenant Jackson, who at that
moment came up to report that the fire was being rapidly subdued. The
former was willing to take advice and to receive assistance, but he was
not the one to submit to any domineering, and he regarded the order as a
most unwarrantable interference, and, if the red-whiskered sea captain
had been of his own age, it is probable that he would have heard
something. But the first lieutenant, angry as he was, did not forget the
respect due to those older than himself.
"Captain," said he, mildly, "the galley is full of water, and there is
no necessity--"
"Shut up!" was the polite rejoinder. "Do you suppose that I am going to
leave so dangerous a thing as fire to the management of a lot of little
boys? Go down there, Peters."
"Mr. Jackson, you will allow no one to interfere with you," said Harry.
"Very good, sir," replied the lieutenant, who was in excellent fighting
humor, like all the rest of the yacht's company. "I'll look for him."
Peters ran down the ladder to execute the orders of his captain. The
first man he encountered was the boatswain's mate, who stood in front of
the galley holding the nozzle through a hole in the door, and directing
the stream of water upon the fire inside.
"Come, now, get out o' this!" roared Peters, trying to push the young
tar away from the door.
"Who are you? Get out o' this yourself," replied the boatswain's mate.
Peters, seeing that the boy was not disposed to be driven away from his
work, proceeded to carry out his orders to the very letter. His first
move was to fasten with both hands into the collar of the mate's jacket
and send him sprawling on the deck; his second, to throw open the door
that led into the galley. As the apartment had been flooded with water,
and the fire nearly drowned out, this did not endanger the little vessel
as it would have done a few minutes before, but the mate was none the
less angry.
"Well, douse my to'-gallant top-lights," he growled, "Here's a go."
"Wheeler," shouted the second lieutenant, from the deck, "close that
door at once."
"No words, now," said Peters, shaking his fist at Jackson, "or you'll go
overboard."
"We'll see about that. Stand by here, men!"
The students swarmed around their officer, and Peters began to believe
that he had stirred up a hornets' nest. "I was sent down here to put out
this fire," said he. "Give me that nozzle."
"I was sent down here for that same purpose," replied the boatswain's
mate, "and I won't give up the hose. The fire is out, and now I am
going to put you out."
As he spoke he turned the nozzle full in the face of the intruder, an
action which caused him to toss up his heels and measure his length on
the wet deck. When he recovered his feet he thought no more of the fire,
but made the best of his way up the ladder, followed by a stream of
water from the hose.
All these things happened in much less time than we have taken to
describe them. It was probably not more than ten minutes from the time
the first notes of the alarm were struck until the last spark of fire
had been extinguished. In five minutes more the deck of the Storm King
had been cleared of the sailors, her anchor slipped, and she was
standing down the harbor under a full press of canvas.
As Captain Steele's military duties kept him ashore, Harry was virtually
the commander of the yacht, and, having authority to act in all
emergencies like the present, he was not delayed in his operations by
being obliged to ask instructions of his superior. He did just what he
knew the captain or the principal would have done, had either of them
been there--he started in hot pursuit of the incendiary, and was fully
resolved to capture him before he returned.
Every thing seemed to indicate that there were stirring times ahead. Sam
Barton, although he had but a small force at his command, was cunning
and reckless, and Harry was long-headed, fruitful in expedients, and
determined. He was simply working to effect the capture of the young
rogue who had tried to destroy his vessel, while the governor and his
band were fighting for liberty. The contest promised to be an exciting
one.
"I have to report, sir, that the starboard watch is engaged in setting
things to rights below, according to orders," said the second
lieutenant, stepping up and saluting.
"Very good, sir," replied Harry. Then, dropping the officer, he
inquired: "How does she look, Jack?"
"O, don't ask me. It makes me mad to think of it."
"Well," said Harry, taking a good survey of his friend, who was as wet
and begrimmed as a boy could be, "if she looks as bad as you do I don't
want to see her."
"She does, and worse. Go down and look at her, Harry, and then tell me
if you think any punishment too severe for that fellow. But don't this
night's work beat you?"
"Beat is no name for it; I am taken all aback. If any one had told me
that Tom Newcombe was as reckless as he has shown himself to be, I
should have laughed at him. What do you suppose he intends to do? Where
is he now?"
"I wish I could tell you. We must hunt him up, and when we have captured
him we can find out all we want to know."
The second lieutenant went below to put on dry clothing, and Harry
walked forward to take a look at things. He found that ten minutes had
made a great change in the appearance of his little vessel. The effects
of the fire were visible on deck about the hatchway, and on the ladder
that led below. The wood-work of the galley was charred and smoked; the
furniture was scattered about over the floor and broken and battered;
the stove was overturned; the water stood in little pools all over the
floor, and, altogether, it presented so desolate an appearance that the
lieutenant was sorry he had come down to look at it.
"She isn't much like the neat little vessel of which I have been so
proud," soliloquized Harry, as he returned to the deck. "But I am
thankful for one thing, and that is, her sailing qualities are not
injured, and we can use them to bring that fellow to justice."
Then, turning to the officer of the deck, he instructed him to put two
men on the forecastle with orders to keep a bright lookout for the
jolly-boat, and also for a white skiff with a crew of half a dozen boys.
Meanwhile the jolly-boat flew down the harbor, propelled by two good
oarsmen. Midshipman Richardson sat bolt upright in the stern sheets,
examining each side of the harbor as well as he could through the
darkness, and hoping it might be his good fortune to put "just one eye
on that Tom Newcombe." He did not stop to consider that it was reported,
by the anchor-watch, that Tom was backed up by his old pirate crew, and
that, if such was the case, he would have six desperate fellows to
contend with. He cared nothing for the difference in numbers. He had
but two companions, but he was sure that, having justice on his side, he
could overcome all obstacles.
"There's a boat right ahead, sir," said the bow oarsman. "I can hear
it."
"So can I," replied Richardson. "Give way, strong. Remember, men, if we
come up with Tom Newcombe I shall catch him and hold fast to him, and I
want you to stand by to defend me with your cutlasses. Do you
understand?"
"Ay, ay, sir!" was the answer.
"Whatever we do must be done quickly," continued the young officer. "We
can't hope to capture his whole crew, nor beat them in a fair fight. Tom
Newcombe is the man we want, and, if I can once get my hands on him I
can hold him, if you will keep the others off. Bear in mind, men, that
he set fire to our vessel."
There was no danger that the young tars would forget that, for the
strokes of the little bell continued to ring in their ears, and, as they
passed along, they could hear the watch on board the vessel talking with
each other and making inquiries about the fire. Add to this the fact
that they were trembling with anxiety for the safety of the yacht, and
filled with apprehension lest Tom's new plan should prove successful,
and there was no fear but that his crime would be kept in remembrance.
Richardson went the entire length of the harbor without seeing any signs
of the Crusoe band. He could hear the boat just ahead of him, but he
could not see it, for it was concealed from him by the darkness;
neither could he gain on it an inch, although his crew worked at the
oars until the perspiration ran in streams down their faces. At length,
however, the jolly-boat reached the end of the pier, and the midshipman
suddenly discovered something that filled him with excitement. It was a
small schooner, which was slowly moving out into the harbor. At her
stern was moored a white skiff.
"There they are," whispered Richardson. "Give way strong."
"Hallo, here!" exclaimed a voice from the deck of the schooner. "Boat
ahoy!"
The young officer made no reply. He grasped the tiller-ropes more firmly
in his hands, and guided the jolly-boat under the stern of the
schooner.