A PITCHED BATTLE.
I was astonished to find myself face to face with Andy Carney, whom I
knew to be one of the toughest characters that infested the north shore
of Rock Island Lake.
But if the meeting was unexpected for me, it was equally so for him,
for after hailing me he stood still for a moment; and in that space of
time I had a chance to recover.
“I say, what do you want here?” he repeated, seeing that I did not
answer him.
“I was looking for a sloop that capsized on the lake a couple of days
ago,” I returned.
“What kind of a sloop?”
I described the Catch Me as best I could.
“No such craft around this island,” said Carney, after I had finished.
“Are you sure?”
“Certain. I was all around the shore only this morning.”
I did not believe this statement, and I paused, undecided what to do
next.
“Was it your sloop?” went on the fisherman.
“Yes. She was given to me the day she was blown over.”
“That so? Why didn’t you see to her at once?”
“I didn’t have time. I was told she was somewhere up here.”
“Who told you?”
“Tom Darrow.”
The instant I uttered the name I was sorry I had done so for I did not
wish to get my honest old friend into trouble. The man I addressed
scowled.
“Darrow ought to keep his mouth shut,” he muttered. “The sloop ain’t
here.”
“What boat is that over yonder?”
“That’s my own craft.”
“You have got her pretty well up the cove,” I added.
The man scowled even deeper than before.
“See here, what business is that of yours?” he demanded. “Reckon I can
take my boat where I please.”
“I suppose you can; I only asked. I reckon I can do that.”
“I drew the boat up because I’m busy painting her, and this is a good
spot to do it.”
“Do you live here?” I went on, more to gain time to think than for any
desire to know.
“Sometimes. I’ve got a sort of a house here, and another over to the
shore yonder. I own this island.”
This last assertion I knew to be a falsehood. I had on my good clothes
out of respect to my father’s memory, and he evidently took me for one
of the summer boarders.
“I should like to see your boat,” I ventured.
“What for?”
“Just to see how a boat is painted. I may want to do such a job myself
some day.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but you can’t see her,” replied Carney decidedly.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want anybody fooling around. I’ve been mighty
particular over the work, and I don’t want it spoilt.”
“I won’t touch a thing.”
“Oh, I know all about that! I ain’t going to have no finger-marks all
over the gun’ale and the gold lines.”
I turned and looked at the mast, which was all I could now see of
the hidden craft. If my memory served me rightly it was the exact
counterpart of the one belonging to the Catch Me. The man was plainly
lying, and had my property in his possession.
“Well, I’m coming ashore, anyway,” I returned; and I jumped from the
sloop to the rocks.
“What do you mean by disobeying my orders?” cried Carney, rushing over
to where I had landed.
“Disobeying your orders?” I repeated.
“Yes. You know well enough I don’t want you to land here.”
“If I want to land I don’t see how you are going to stop me,” I replied
as coolly as I could, although I was anxious as to the outcome of the
situation.
“You don’t, eh? Didn’t I tell you I owned this island?”
“I don’t believe it. The property has always been in the families of
several Bend Center folks.”
“What do you know about Bend Center?”
“I know all about it.”
“You don’t mean to say you live there?” and there was actual wonder in
the man’s tone.
“I live near the place. I run the mill over at Torrent Bend River.”
Carney stepped back.
“Are you Reuben Stone?” he cried.
“That’s my name.”
In spite of his bronzed face I saw the fellow turn pale. What impression
had the discovery of my identity made upon him?
“I thought you said you owned the boat you are looking for?” he said at
length.
“So I do.”
“The Catch Me belonged to Bayport.”
“I thought you didn’t know anything about her?” I returned sharply.
“Well, I――I thought I didn’t,” he stammered; “but what you said put me
in mind of her.”
“She was given to me for rescuing the two men and the woman and the boy
who were sailing in her.”
“Given to you?”
“Yes.”
“Humph!” Carney tossed his head. “Well, she ain’t here, and you had
better look elsewhere for her.”
“I’m going to take a walk around the island.”
I had hardly uttered the words before the man caught me by the shoulder.
“You are going to do nothing of the sort!” he cried. “I want you to
clear out at once.”
“Suppose I don’t choose to do so?”
“I’ll make you.”
I looked at the fellow. He was pretty big, and he looked strong; still
I stood my ground.
“How are you going to make me go?” I asked.
“Do you see this gun? Well, if you don’t hustle off you may feel it.”
In spite of my efforts to remain calm I shivered. The weapon looked as
if it was capable of doing some wicked work.
“You see I’m the boss around Rock Island,” went on Carney, “and I don’t
take any talk from any one. I want you to get out at once.”
And saying this, he stepped back and pointed the gun at my head. I did
not think he meant to fire it. He thought he would scare me; that was
all. But it was not pleasant to have the barrel in line with my head,
and I stepped back and out of range.
“Now get on board of your sloop, and pull up anchor,” continued Carney.
“I don’t want any more talk.”
While he was speaking I watched my chance, and as he lowered the gun I
rushed forward, grasped it with both hands, and pulled it away from him.
“Here! give me back that gun!” he exclaimed, as I retreated.
“Not a bit of it!” I returned. “You’ll find that two can play at that
game.”
And I brought up the barrel of the weapon on a level with his breast.
“Don’t shoot!”
“I don’t intend to if you behave yourself. Just you march over to your
right.”
“What for?”
“Never mind; do as I tell you.”
With very bad grace Carney did as I had directed. When he had reached
a point fully fifteen yards away I told him to halt. The spot was in
the midst of a number of barren rocks, and here I felt sure that I
could watch him.
“Now I am going to take a look at your boat,” I went on. “Don’t you
dare to move while I do so.”
“Won’t do you any good,” he muttered.
Without replying, I made my way through the rough brush and over the
rocks to where the mast of the boat could be seen. It was but a short
distance, and soon I stood face to face with the hidden craft.
For an instant I did not recognize her. The blue-and-white hull had
given way to one of red, and the name had been scratched and covered
with several coats of paint; but the general appearance of the deck and
rigging had not been changed, and I was certain that the craft was the
missing Catch Me.
Had I come a day later, the job of transformation would have been
complete, and the sloop might have been lost to me forever. I counted
myself lucky at having made the trip of investigation as soon as I had.
An instant later I looked around to see if Carney was where I left him,
and I was chagrined to note that he had disappeared.