Left alone on board the _Rambler_, Jule lay for a long time behind the
gunwale watching the _Hawk_. He saw Clay surrounded by a group of
ill-looking fellows as soon as he gained the freight deck. He knew by
the boy’s face that all was not going well.
When Clay was taken up the cabin stairs and into the stateroom by the
captain, Jule got out his field glass and scrutinized the windows of the
boat. Directly he saw the captain come to a window facing the _Rambler_
and look out. Clay was nowhere in sight.
Lying thus, almost flat on the deck, watching the _Hawk_ intently, the
boy could not see what was going on on the starboard side of the boat.
Indeed, so closely was he watching the _Hawk_ that he did not notice a
little shiver which ran through the craft as two husky men crept over
the gunwale and stood looking down upon him.
“Hello, kid!” one of the men said roughly in a moment.
Jule turned around to see two revolvers pointing at his head. He laid
down his automatic and rose to his feet. The two men on the deck before
him were signaling to the men on the _Hawk_, while the latter were
shouting words of congratulation.
“Oh, Gid and I got her all right!” one of the men said.
“You bet we did,” the man referred to as Gid went on.
“What shall we do with the boy?” was the next question.
“We’ll send after him,” was the reply from the _Hawk_.
Jule walked over to a chair and sat down. There was nothing whatever he
could do. He knew that Clay was in the hands of the river pirates, and
that resistance would be useless.
“If you don’t mind,” he said finally, “I’d rather stay on board the
_Rambler_. It seems like home here.”
“There’s more fun on board the _Hawk_,” laughed Gid.
“I don’t suppose there’s anything to drink on board this boat?” asked
Gid’s companion.
“There’s plenty of water,” answered Jule.
“Don’t insult Mike with a drink of water,” Gid advised; “Mike likes
water to that extent that he won’t even wash in it.”
“He looks it!” Jule declared.
“No lip, now, young fellow!” Mike broke in.
“What are you going to do with the boat?” asked Jule.
“Why, this boat,” Gid answered, “will make a fine tender for the _Hawk_.
We’ve been wanting a fine boat like this for a long time. You see, we
get parties on board the _Hawk_, sometimes, who need a little more care
than the ordinary river chap. When such get tired of our company, and
we’re willing to let them go, we take ’em home in style.”
“Well,” Jule answered, “the motors are out of order, so you can’t run
the _Rambler_, and I’m not sorry for that, either.”
“We can tow her, can’t we, until we can get the motors fixed?” asked
Mike. “It won’t take much to fix the engine.”
“All right!” Jule said. “When you get her fixed up all right we’ll take
her off your hands.”
“Oh, you will, will you?” laughed Gid. “If you don’t watch out, son,
you’ll be wanting some one to take you off our hands.”
The two men now moved up to the prow of the boat and whispered together
for a long time. They paid no attention to signals and calls from the
_Hawk_, and so a small boat was soon making its way toward the
_Rambler_. Jule saw the two men handling their guns nervously as the
boat supposed to contain members of their own party approached.
The boy watched the situation anxiously. It seemed to him that the two
men who had boarded the _Rambler_ were not at all pleased at the
approach of the rowboat. It appeared, too, that those on board the
_Hawk_ were watching Gid and Mike suspiciously.
When the boat drew near, the man who had been called Mike leaned over
the gunwale with a revolver in each hand.
“Keep away, boys!” he said. “We don’t want you on board!”
“What does this mean?” demanded the mate of the _Hawk_, who was one of
the men in the small boat.
“Never mind what it means,” Mike called out.
“Keep away from the boat if you don’t want to be shot!”
While Mike was holding the mate off with his revolvers, Gid stood by the
boy also with revolvers in sight. The mate of the _Hawk_ threw his hand
back as if to produce a weapon and Mike passed a bullet so close to the
side of his head that it scorched his scalp.
“Don’t try to get out any guns!” the man ordered. “Get back to the
_Hawk_ and stay there!”
“What right have you to take that boat?” demanded the mate.
“No words, now!” Mike shouted. “Get back to the _Hawk_!”
“We’ll sink you if you move away from here!” shouted the mate.
“You’ll do lot’s of sinking, with Government boats patrolling the
river!” mocked Mike. “You’d get pinched in half an hour.”
“How do you expect to get away with that boat?” demanded the mate.
“Why, we’ve got one of the owners on board,” Mike laughed back, “and
he’ll tell the Government officers anything we ask him to.”
“And look here, Mr. River Thief!” Gid joined in, “if you make any noise
about the taking of this boat, or try to make trouble for us, or open
your mouths to the river police, we’ll give the _Hawk_ away good and
plenty. Every murder and every dirty game that’s been played on board
will be in the Government’s books within twenty-four hours.”
Slowly, sullenly, the mate turned the boat around and headed for the
_Hawk_, glancing back over his shoulders with angry eyes as he did so.
Hoots of derision came to him from the deck of the _Hawk_ as he
returned. It was quite evident that those on board the _Hawk_ knew what
had taken place.
“Look here, kid!” Gid said to Jule as the boat turned back, “get down
there and loosen the anchor-chain. We must be getting out of this and we
haven’t got time to hoist her up!”
“I can’t do it while there’s a strain on the chain,” Jule answered.
“Then wait a minute,” directed the other, “and she’ll probably slacken
up.”
Caught in a contrary swirl of the eddy in which she lay, the _Rambler_
gave a lurch ahead, in a moment, and Jule took the opportunity of
slipping the stopper from the chain.
When the boat settled back again the chain ran out of the hawse-pipe
with a clatter which attracted the attention of those on board the
_Hawk_, and many oaths and epithets were passed back and forth over the
water.
Not for long, however, for the _Rambler_ swinging out into the current,
gradually swept down. Now she ran stern against the current, now prow
against the current; now sideways; now swirling round and round in an
ugly whirlpool.
It was at this moment that Clay, approaching the window in the captain’s
stateroom, saw what had taken place. He turned to the latter a face red
with anger, his eyes flashing, his fists clenched.
“What is the meaning of that?” he asked pointing out of the window.
The captain bounded to the window and peered out. At that moment an
imperative knock sounded on the stateroom door.
“What is it?” demanded the captain, opening the door and starting out.
“Why is that boat running away?”
“Mike and Gid have stolen her!” shouted the mate. “They threatened me
with guns when I tried to board her. Now they threaten all on board the
_Hawk_ if we attempt to recapture the _Rambler_.”
The captain tore about the stateroom in a blind rage, dancing up and
down and shaking his fists in every direction. The mate stood by only a
trifle less excited. It looked like a show to Clay.
“I’ll kill the dirty dogs!” shouted the captain. “I’ll murder them both
before they’re a week older! They threatened me, did they? They
threatened to turn us over to the officers, did they?”
“That’s what they did!” shouted the mate. “Mike had the drop on me, or I
would have settled the matter right then.”
While this conversation was going on Clay stood by the stateroom window,
wondering whether it would be possible for him to leap out and drop to
the river. His idea was that the men who had stolen the _Rambler_ could
not by any possibility be more vicious than the men on board the _Hawk_;
besides, if he could reach Jule, the two might stand some chance of
recovering the motor boat.
While he stood making up his mind to undertake the difficult task of
leaving the boat without being detected by those on the outside, two
pistol shots came from the deck. Instantly the captain and mate whirled
out of the stateroom, the latter stopping for an instant to lock the
door before dashing down to the scene of the disturbance.
Clay knew by the trembling of the deck under his feet that they were
getting the _Hawk_ under way. He saw little puffs of smoke coming from
the deck of the _Rambler_, and rightly surmised that the shots had been
fired at her. While he stood undecided, the _Hawk_ began moving down
stream, following in the wake of the _Rambler_.
Without waiting another instant, the boy made his way out of the window
and clung to the casing until his feet came in contact with one of the
fenders. Then he dropped down into the river with a splash which, in the
excitement of getting away, was not observed by those on the lower deck.
Indeed, the boy was some distance from the pirate vessel before his
absence was discovered at all. Then the captain returned to his
stateroom and found it empty.
Rushing to the window, he fired several shots at the boy, but all to no
purpose. He was greatly excited, and the boy was diving and dodging in
the water so not one of the bullets took effect.
When Mike and Gid, on board the _Rambler_, saw the boy swimming in the
water they naturally supposed him to be one of the crew of the _Hawk_.
Therefore, they began firing at him, thus placing him between two
dangers.
Seeing that it would be impossible for him to board the _Rambler_ under
the circumstances, the boy dropped down in the water and made for the
shore, where he landed, sorely out of breath, in a few moments.
It was September, so the water was not very cold, and Clay suffered
little inconvenience from his bath at that time. His first act was to
secrete himself behind the bole of a large hickory tree and watch what
was going on in the river.
The _Rambler_ was still drifting down with the current, wheeling this
way and that, threatened with destruction nearly every instant. The
_Hawk_, now under full power, was shooting past her, evidently with the
intention of heading her off and blocking farther progress.
While the boy looked and waited he saw a white head lifted above the
gunwale and the next moment Captain Joe, the bulldog, leaped into the
river. Clay gave a low whistle to direct the dog in his direction and
stood with his heart in his mouth, almost, waiting to see if the brutes
on board the motor boat would fire at the bulldog.
Just at that moment, however, Gid and Mike were busy with sweeps and
oars trying to get the _Rambler_ out of an eddy around which it was
whirling aimlessly. Jule looked over the gunwale of the boat in a moment
and Clay signaled to him from behind the tree. The next moment the
bulldog sprang upon Clay in joyful greeting and the two disappeared in
the woods.
Jule went back into the cabin and threw himself down on a bunk.
“I don’t believe,” he moaned, “that we’ll ever get the _Rambler_ away
from these thieves!”