THE STRUGGLE IN THE DARK
Jack was by now becoming accustomed to sleeping aboard the _Sea-Lark_.
The slight motion of the sloop as she lay at her moorings, and the
gentle lapping of water against the side of the craft, instead of
keeping him awake, lulled him to sleep. There was a delightful novelty,
also, in sleeping on his boat, and the sense of impending danger
which, during the first night or two, had kept his ears straining, was
beginning to vanish. Both he and George now dropped off to sleep within
a few minutes of the light being extinguished.
There was one night, however, when George was not able to keep his
chum company, as his father required his assistance very early in the
morning to get a launch into the water on the top of the tide. Jack,
therefore, had to spend the night alone. For an hour or so after
darkness came, he chatted with Cap’n Crumbie in the latter’s cubby
on the wharf, and then climbed down to the sloop with no thought of
impending danger. In the cabin he lighted his lantern, read the last
two chapters of a book, stuck his head out of the companionway to see
what the weather was like, and then slipped off his shoes, preparatory
to turning in. As he placed the shoes under the bunk he began to
chuckle.
“It isn’t necessary,” he muttered, going over to a locker and taking
from it certain articles, including a hammer. “But what a joke if――”
He seemed to find considerable amusement in his thoughts and once or
twice his chuckle developed into a hearty laugh, as for several minutes
he busied himself at an occupation rarely indulged in by skippers.
“There!” he said, apparently to the hammer, when the task was finished,
“it can’t do any harm, and it may do some good.”
Five minutes later he was in the strange world of dreamland, where
pirates and redskins became entangled inextricably in adventures more
absorbing than any ever found between the covers of a book.
Up on the wharf Cap’n Crumbie smoked his pipe in his cubby, and dozed
over an old magazine until his head nodded. For a few minutes he,
too, dropped off to sleep and then, when his pipe fell on the floor,
he sat up with a start. He stretched his arms, yawned, and arose to
pace nor’east and so’west on his favorite beat. There was but a faint
light, for the moon was not due for several hours yet, and the sky was
somewhat cloudy. Due south, three miles away, the red beacon at the sea
end of the long breakwater shone steadily, while, farther east, the
white glare of Greenport Light came at intervals. Cap’n Crumbie screwed
up his eyes as he peered into the darkness away to the south for signs
of an incoming vessel, but saw nothing, and presently returned to his
comfortable chair and the magazine. He stuffed more tobacco into the
bowl of his pipe, sent up prodigious wreaths of smoke, and fixed his
spectacles. For half an hour he browsed over the printed pages, and
then, it being a warm, close night, his eyelids drooped once more.
Somewhere a bell clanged. It was one o’clock in the morning, and all
was well. Cap’n Crumbie dozed and his pipe fell to the floor with a
rattle again. But he did not move. The watchman was in the midst of
forty winks, and they were very sound winks, too.
The dark form of a dory came skulking along the wharves. There was
something suspicious in the behavior of its occupant. He dipped his
oars into the water so silently that the splash could not have been
heard more than a few yards away. He took a couple of furtive strokes,
and then rested, looking over his shoulder, while the dory drifted
slowly along. Another two strokes. A voice came from the distance. It
was some sailor calling “good night” to a belated visitor, but the
man in the dory gave a start. Again he peered over his shoulder in
the direction of Garnett and Sayer’s wharf, now close by, and after
assuring himself that no eye was on him, dipped the oars cautiously
and sidled toward the _Sea-Lark_. There was no sound when he stepped
with his bare feet over a thwart to fend the dory from the sloop. This
was done with infinite care, and the small craft lay still. The man
ran his fingers along the rail until they encountered a projecting
nail, and then he nodded silently. With cat-like movements, he pushed
the dory along to the stern of the sloop, and stood up, ready to hoist
himself aboard. No sound greeted his ears save the lap of water against
the side of the vessel. At last he tightened his grip on the rail,
pulled his body cautiously over it, and crouched for an instant at the
companionway. His fingers closed on the door-knob and with stealthy
tread he disappeared into the cabin.
One step he took in the blackness, and then something tripped him up.
It was a strong cord stretched across the bottom of the steps, a foot
from the ground. The man had fallen into a booby trap of the simplest
possible kind, which Jack had set in the event of any unauthorized
callers disturbing his slumbers.
With a startled cry quickly suppressed, the intruder sprawled forward,
clutching wildly, and measured his length on the floor. As he fell his
head came in violent contact with the edge of the table.
In a flash Jack was sitting bolt upright, collecting his wits. Then
he remembered the booby trap, but he did not laugh now. The thing had
evidently done its work.
With a bound he leaped from his berth, grasped his stick, and landed on
the intruder, who was already scrambling to his knees. It was now the
boy’s turn to stumble, but they both recovered at the same moment.
Neither could see the other, although not more than three feet
separated them as they instinctively sprang apart.
“Stand still, or I’ll shoot!” called Jack. At the same moment he moved
toward the door, but before he could reach it the man was on him and
had borne him to the floor.
Jack struggled frantically, but his opponent was stronger than he. A
hand was thrust over his mouth and a knee pressed heavily on his chest.
“Keep still, or I’ll crush the life out o’ you!” a voice hissed.
But Jack had no intention of keeping still in the circumstances. One of
his legs was free, and with it he kicked out lustily, making as much
noise as possible, but doing no harm to his assailant.
The hand on Jack’s mouth pressed still more firmly. Acting on an
inspiration, the boy opened his mouth, and his firm teeth closed on
a finger. There was a sharp cry of pain and the hand was withdrawn,
whereupon Jack instantly shouted at the top of his lungs.
Down came the hand again across his face, his half-raised head was
thrust savagely back against the floor of the cabin, and Jack was
momentarily dazed.
“Now will you keep still?” the voice demanded in a hoarse whisper.
While one hand was being held across his mouth, the boy felt another
close remorselessly over his throat. His left arm was doubled under
him, and although his right hand remained free, he could do nothing
with it save clutch ineffectually at the arm of his assailant.
The pressure on his throat was terrible and he could no longer
breathe. Even then, however, he did not cease to squirm, and his hand
encountered the leg of the cabin table. Desperately he closed his
fingers over this and using the last ounce of his now fast-dwindling
strength, dragged the thing over.
Exactly what happened the boy could not tell, but a moment later he
found himself mixed up in a nightmare of table legs and clutching
hands. His mouth and throat were freed, and he uttered another loud cry
for help, but was immediately silenced by a savage blow on the head.
Those powerful hands gripped him afresh and he felt his senses going.
He was choking again, and there was a painful buzzing in his ears.
Vaguely, as though it were miles away, he thought he heard a shout, and
then a ton weight seemed to be lifted from his chest. His assailant had
gone, and Jack could hear some one shouting distinctly now.
“Hello! hello, there!” It was Cap’n Crumbie, outside on the wharf. The
boy tried to call back, but for the moment he was too exhausted. Then
the watchman burst into the cabin.
“Hello, Jack! What in thunder’s up?”
“After him, quick!” Jack answered huskily. “He’s nearly choked me to
death!”
“Are you all right, lad?” Cap’n Crumbie lifted him to his feet.
“Yes, I think so, but――” Jack broke off to scramble out on deck and
peer into the darkness.
The sound of oars could be heard not far away. There was another dory
lying near, and into this the watchman and Jack hustled and pulled
desperately after the retreating craft. It had a considerable lead, and
in the black shadows of the wharves was not visible at first. Finally,
though, “I can see him now,” Jack cried. “Pull hard!”
The man in the other dory was evidently not an expert with the oars,
for he was splashing badly as he urged his boat forward.
“We’ve got him!” said Cap’n Crumbie. “He can’t get away now!”
At that instant the splashing ceased, and the pursuers began to gain on
their quarry more rapidly. They were overhauling the dory at top speed.
Cap’n Crumbie stopped rowing.
“Easy there, lad!” he cautioned breathlessly. “Maybe that feller has a
gun, and there’s no need for us to get shot.”
Only a dozen yards of still water separated the two craft now, but
there was no sound or movement in the other dory, and the pursuers were
drifting nearer all the time.
“Why――why, it’s empty!” cried Jack, disgustedly, as the boat became
more distinct.
Two or three more strokes brought them alongside. It was, as the boy
had surmised, without an occupant――just an empty old dory, floating
idly on the water.
“He must have gone over the side and swum ashore,” said Jack, chagrined.
“We should have had him in another few minutes. Let’s pull in closer to
the wharves and see if there’s any sign of him there.”
They searched accordingly, but without success. Evidently the fugitive
had slipped quietly into the water and escaped.
“Well, we’ve got his dory, anyway,” said Cap’n Crumbie. “Let’s go back
for her.”
They towed the craft back to Garnett and Sayer’s wharf, where the
watchman lighted a lantern and examined it.
“Huh! It’s Joe Whalen’s dory,” declared Cap’n Crumbie. “The old man’s
been in bed with rheumatism for over a week, and he wouldn’t hurt
nobody, anyhow. This chap that attacked you must have swiped it. And
there ain’t a dog-gone thing in it, neither, ’ceptin’ the oars. Knew
too much to leave his things behind, he did.”
“I’m afraid I shouldn’t have got off so well if I hadn’t thought of
using a string to trip him up,” said the boy. “He would have had me at
his mercy in my bunk if I’d been asleep. Why, what on earth――”
The lad stopped at the entrance of the sloop’s cabin, the lantern in
his hand illuminating the scene of the struggle. Then he stooped and
picked up something that was lying on the floor, half covered by the
overturned table. It was beveled like a chisel at one end.
“That yours?” asked the watchman, puzzled.
“I’ve never seen it in my life before,” replied Jack. “It must have
been dropped by that brute.”
He weighed the bar in his hand, and passed it over to Cap’n Crumbie.
“I admit I was a bit scared,” he said, “being awakened so suddenly
that way and finding a man under my feet as soon as I jumped out, but
I should have been a good deal more scared if I’d known he had a thing
like that in his hand!”
Cap’n Crumbie ran his fingers through his hair and sat down on the edge
of one of the bunks.
“One good tap on the head with that thing, my lad, and you’d ha’
stopped running ferry-boats for all time,” he said. “That bit o’ string
saved your life, I reckon.”
“It looks like it,” the boy admitted. “I wonder whether the Chief of
Police will believe now that there’s something wrong or will wait
until I’m in the hospital before he does anything!”
“Well, beat it up to the station-house now, and show them that piece
of steel. I won’t leave here till you come back. Whether it’s you or
the sloop this mysterious feller is after, I don’t know, but it ain’t
likely he’ll be around again to-night; and if he is he won’t get the
sloop so long’s I’m alive.”
Jack slipped his shoes on and walked to the police station, where he
found Sergeant Banks on night duty.
“What time will the chief be in?” he asked.
“Eight o’clock,” replied the sergeant. “What’s wrong?”
For answer, Jack placed the bar of steel on the sergeant’s desk.
“Somebody came into the cabin of my boat just now, while I was asleep,
and left that when he went out.”
The sergeant frowned over the piece of steel and then eyed the boy.
“That’s a cold-chisel, I take it,” he said finally. “Where’d you say
you found it?” Jack told his story briefly, ending with: “This was
about half an hour ago, and you might catch the fellow if you send some
of your men to look for him.”
“Not so fast, young man,” replied the sergeant, pompously. “Let me get
this thing right, and then _I_’ll decide what action is necessary.
First of all, you were in here the other day complaining of some one
walking across your deck, weren’t you?”
“He came into the cabin that time while my chum and I were asleep.”
“Well, that’s all there is to that. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No, but he tried to strangle me, to-night. That’s something, isn’t it?”
The officer elevated his eyebrows and puffed out his cheeks. Without a
doubt he was incredulous.
“But just now you said he attacked you with this bar, didn’t you?”
“No, I said he evidently meant to attack me with it,” replied the boy,
impatiently. “He must have dropped it when he fell over the string.
And then when Cap’n Crumbie heard me shouting, and answered, the man
ran off without it.”
“Then some one besides you saw the fellow, eh? That might make a
difference, if it’s true.”
“It was too dark for Cap’n Crumbie to see the man. He only heard me
yelling.”
“Well, what happened then?”
“Cap’n Crumbie and I jumped into the dory and chased the chap. He was
in a dory of his own. We pulled after him as hard as we could, and I
think we should have caught him if he hadn’t jumped overboard and swum
to one of the wharves.”
“And his dory disappeared too, eh?”
“No. We found it, but it was empty.”
“Now that’s unfortunate,” said the sergeant, sarcastically. “Seems like
you’re the only person who saw this fellow and you didn’t rightly see
him, either――just heard him.”
“I sort of think I _felt_ him, too,” replied Jack, warmly. “Look at my
throat. Aren’t the marks of the man’s fingers there?”
“Ye-es, but I’ve heard of folks having the nightmare and choking
themselves.”
“You think, then, that I just dreamed the whole thing?” exclaimed the
boy. “Gee, that’s great! Maybe I dreamed that chisel thing there, too!”
“I don’t _say_ you dreamed. But you might have. I’ll give the story to
the chief when he comes on in the morning, and――”
“And meanwhile the fellow can go home and get his wet clothes off and――”
“I’ll pass the word around,” said the sergeant, “and we’ll keep a
lookout, but I want to tell you that if we find that you’ve been trying
to put any funny business over, it’ll go hard with you. You’d better
come in and see the chief in the morning and let him hear your story.”
Jack returned to the wharf and Cap’n Crumbie.
“Well, what did they say?” the watchman asked.
“I only saw Sergeant Banks, who was on night duty. He didn’t seem to
believe me, but he’s going to pass the word round among his men, and
I’m to see the chief in the morning.”
“Banks is a barnacle!” declared Cap’n Crumbie. “_I_’ll go with you next
time, and we’ll see if we can’t get ’em to take a bit o’ notice.”
There was no more sleep for Jack that night. The watchman kept him
company until dawn, and the boy went home as usual for an early
breakfast, after which he and Cap’n Crumbie repaired to the police
station.
“’Morning,” greeted the chief. “Glad to see you, Cap’n. Now, what’s
your version of this business?”
The chief’s manner was much too airy for Cap’n Crumbie, and he scowled
as he advanced to the desk. He grunted as he thrust his hands into his
pockets and faced the man behind it.
“My version’s the same as his, chief,” he replied. “I s’pose you’ve got
the feller by this time, ain’t you?”
“Why, no,” he said. “We haven’t made any arrest yet. There isn’t much
to go on, Cap’n. We watched along the wharves last night, but didn’t
see any one.”
“Guess the feller was home and abed before your men started to look
for him,” grunted the Cap’n. “’Taint likely he’d stand around and wait
to be caught, is it? ’Course, if he hadn’t been in the water he might,
but being sort o’ wet――” Cap’n Crumbie’s labored sarcasm ended in a
derisive snort.
“Come, now, Crumbie, let’s get this thing straight. I understand that
you didn’t actually see the man. That’s so, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s so, but――”
“But you’re sure there was somebody there, are you?”
“Sure? ’Course I’m sure! Didn’t I nearly pull my arms off going after
him in the dory?”
“H-m, yes, I dare say. Well, I’ll put a man on the wharf for the next
few nights and maybe we’ll catch the fellow at it again. How’ll that
do?”
“Well, that’ll help,” admitted the Cap’n, more calmly. “But, all the
same, it ain’t much use locking the stable door when the cat’s out o’
the bag!” And he and Jack departed, taking what satisfaction they might
from their visit.
During the course of the morning Martin and his friend Hegan came down
to the wharf, and Jack eyed the pair suspiciously.
“Ferry doing good business, huh?” Martin enquired, cordially.
“Quite, thanks,” replied Jack, with his eyes glued on a patch on
Martin’s trouser leg. He was sure now that the man had worn a different
suit on the day following the visit of the midnight intruder on the
_Sea-Lark_. Unfortunately the scrap of cloth left on the nail was far
too small to serve as conclusive evidence, and for all Jack could
affirm to the contrary the small patch on Martin’s trousers might have
been there for years.