THE KIDNAPPERS
Annapolis was full of excitement. It always is at this time of year, and
though the town is old, and though graduation scenes have been rehearsed
for more than sixty years, still the play is always fresh; young lives
are about to go out and do their battle in the world, and friends come
to applaud them and to spend a few days with them, and to wish them
Godspeed. And so visitors by thousands poured into the ancient city; and
the young men of Robert Drake's class had a sense of great importance
because it was all to do honor to their graduation, now but a few weeks
off.
But it wasn't only at the Naval Academy that important matters were
happening at this time; for near Annapolis, events were occurring of
tremendous import to a few people, and particularly so to a small,
white-faced whimpering boy, seven years old.
Up the Severn River, some little distance before it reaches Round Bay,
was an offshoot from the river. This offshoot, a small creek, by devious
windings led through a desolate, untenanted, uncultivated, roadless
region. Once, in the heyday of slavery, prosperous tobacco fields
existed where now there was a dense second growth of trees crowded by a
tangled underbrush impenetrable to man unless armed with a hatchet.
Here, through an absolute wilderness, inhabited only by coons, squirrels
and hares, the little offshoot to the Severn took its unmolested way. No
Man's Creek it was called, and well named it was. Not even isolated
negroes' cabins were to be seen on its banks, and wild duck in their
season, unmolested by the gun, here found a secure place.
But, completely hidden in this creek, disturbing visitors had recently
appeared. In one of the sharp turns of No Man's Creek, and completely
hidden from view, was a covered gasoline launch. In it were three men
and a small, weeping boy.
"We'll start to-night at eleven; it will be dark then, the moon sets at
nine; and I'll be glad to have the thing over with. Jingo! I wish we
had never done this thing," said one of them, a red-bearded man of
uncertain age. "I'm sure no one followed us to Indian Landing; we landed
there at a time when nobody was awake. But it was a hard trip from there
across lots to this place. I never would have found this spot if I
weren't so well acquainted about here. But I wish we could have got out
last night--confound that leaky gasoline tank--it dished us at the last
moment. But we'll be out to-night sure--it will take us an hour to run
by the Naval Academy, and two hours later we'll be across the bay and in
Kent Island--once there I'll be easy in my mind; we'll be absolutely
safe. And then we'll get ten thousand for our trouble. Stop your crying,
Georgie, we're taking you to your father. Hello, Jim, what's that noise?
I hear a man shouting!"
The red-bearded man jumped up and out of the boat; he ran up a bank and
returned in a moment. "We're caught," he cried hoarsely; "somebody has
seen us and has given us away. We'll have to leave instantly--cut the
painter! Hurry, start the engine--shove off the boat; we haven't a
moment to lose!"
With zeal born of fear and desperation, the three men worked
frantically, and very soon the gasoline boat was chugging down the
stream. And none too soon, for two men now standing near where the
gasoline boat had been secured were shouting for them to return. With
pallid faces the three men confronted one another.
"What is to be done?" asked one.
"Let's land somewhere on Round Bay shore, turn the kid adrift and run,"
ventured a second one. "We'll be caught in this boat; our only hope is
to separate and each of us try to get away by himself."
"We'll do nothing of the kind," retorted the red-bearded man; "we will
stick to this boat; we'll follow the original programme. What chance
would I have? That chap saw me plainly and everybody in six counties
would look for a man with red whiskers. No, sir! Those two men are left
on the shore; they are miles from a telephone; we'll be halfway across
Chesapeake Bay before they can communicate with anybody, and there are
so many launches in the Severn River that we won't be noticed. That's
the only thing to do, fellows."
"It's twenty years in prison if we're caught," remarked one with a gasp.
"Stop your sniveling! Cheer up! We'll be on the Eastern Shore to-night,
and once there I defy anybody to find us."
These three men were the kidnappers of little Georgie Thompson.
Seemingly their plans had been perfectly laid. Two of them had driven
from Baltimore in a roundabout way to a place near Indian Landing,
arriving there at night. One of these, with Georgie, had stolen that
same night to where the gasoline launch had been brought by the third
man. The other had gone further on and turned adrift the horse and buggy
they had driven from Baltimore and joined the launch later. Had it not
been for the loss of the gasoline the boat would already have been on
the other side of Chesapeake Bay. More gasoline had been secured, and
this cowardly trio had determined to wait until dark before leaving
their hiding-place.
The gasoline launch shot out of No Man's Creek and swung into the
Severn River. Soon Round Bay was reached and the launch struck across
the centre of it and, keeping at equal distance from either shore, ran
down the river at full speed. They attracted no notice on their way and
soon the railroad bridge was passed, then the county bridge and they
were abreast of the Naval Academy grounds. No passing boats seemed at
all interested in their movements, and the men felt easier. In but a
short time they would be out of the river and on their way across
Chesapeake Bay. Hardly a word had been spoken on this fast trip down the
river, but desperate fear gripped each man's heart. Little Georgie was
now crying softly; he did not realize what was happening, did not
comprehend what these strange men were doing beyond their statement that
they were taking him to his father, but they were a long time about it
and he was hungry and uncomfortable. There was something terrifying in
it all to the little boy and now and again he would sob bitterly.
When opposite the lower part of the Naval Academy grounds the gasoline
engine suddenly stopped. With a fierce exclamation of fear and rage the
red-bearded man jumped to the engine and tried to start it again, but
with no success.
"Everything seems to be all right here," he said in a low, intense way;
"the spark is all right,"--then in a voice of fright he said, "This cock
doesn't show there is any gasoline in the feed pipe; see if there is any
in the tank."
"Not a drop," exclaimed the other in a terrified voice; "this rotten
tank has sprung another leak."
"Get out an oar and make for that sloop," cried the red-bearded man.
Fifty feet away was a sloop yacht anchored; her sail was all spread,
though the sheets were not belayed. A fresh breeze was blowing down the
Severn; this helped the gasoline boat, and with the aid of the oars it
was soon alongside the sloop. "Jump aboard, quick with you," cried the
leader; "come along, Georgie; run forward, Jim, and heave up the anchor;
never mind our boat--we've no time to lose--I'll look out for the sheets
and helm."
With a practiced hand the man with the red beard grabbed the tiller.
They found nobody aboard--but the sails being loosed and no small boat
being alongside it was likely that a party to go sailing would soon be
pulled off from the shore to the yacht.
The anchor was hove up to the bows in a moment, the head of the yacht
swung round, the sails filled, and she was off with a bound.
With a critical eye the man at the helm trimmed the different sails, set
the trysail and then heaved a sigh of profound relief.
"I think we're safe," he said; "hello, there's a navy ship on the port
bow, and another one several miles away on the starboard bow. I'll steer
between--they don't know anything about us--they won't bother us."
While the superintendent of the Naval Academy was sitting at his desk
this same afternoon, his telephone bell rang.
"Hello, what is it?" he asked.
"Is this the superintendent?"
"Yes."
"This is Halstead, aboard the 'Santee.'"
"What is it, Halstead?"
"Sir, the quartermaster has reported that a gasoline launch went
alongside the 'Robert Centre' a few minutes ago and several people got
out of the launch and went aboard the yacht; the gasoline launch is now
drifting down the river and the 'Robert Centre' is tearing out into the
bay."
"Who were the people that got out of the launch?"
"The quartermaster says they were strangers. One was a man with a red
beard, and a little boy was along."
"Had anybody intended to take the 'Robert Centre' out to-day?"
"Yes, sir, Mr. Brooks and some friends of his. They are now being pulled
out in the river in the 'Centre's' boat. What shall I do, sir?"
"Hoist the 'Robert Centre's' recall. Secure the gasoline launch and keep
it awaiting my orders. Have the quartermaster keep a good lookout on the
'Robert Centre' to see where she goes. Have you any steamer you could
send for her?"
"No, sir, the 'Standish' is out with the 'Nevada.'"
"I think you'll find that the matter will be explained; it was probably
a party of young officers out for a lark and a sail. Or it may have been
some friends of officers; it will no doubt come out all right."
Half an hour later the superintendent was again called up by the
telephone.
"This is the superintendent. What is it?" he asked.
"I am Detective Cross, a Pinkerton detective. I traced the kidnappers of
the Thompson boy to No Man's Creek, near the Severn, below Indian
Landing. They saw me and shoved their boat off in a hurry, and went down
river. The boy is with them. I've had a time finding a telephone in this
forsaken country; keep a lookout for a green gasoline launch; it has a
cabin in it--three kidnappers and Georgie Thompson were in the----" But
the superintendent had heard enough and, ringing off the speaker, he
commenced to do some rapid telephoning on his own account.