TOM HALSTEAD--READY!
There was no time to raise the anchor. Even had this been possible, it
would have been out of the question to get the motors started and
running in time to get out of the Drab's way.
Captain Tom Halstead was taken wholly by surprise, yet he was not
caught with his wits asleep.
"Make a dive for those sticks, fellows!" he shouted, bounding for the
motor room hatchway. "If we get a chance we'll give 'em at least a pat
for a blow!"
The sticks of firewood that they had used on the night of their long
swim were in the motor room. Tom caught up his, wheeling to bound
outside again. Joe Dawson was barely a step behind him.
But Hank--he went as though by instinct for the hitching weight that
had already made him famous in the annals of the Motor Boat Club.
Swift as they were, the trio were back on deck just in time to witness
the final manoeuvre of the seventy-footer. That craft, not moving very
fast, suddenly veered in its course.
Instead of cutting through the "Restless," the larger motor boat swung
suddenly so as to come up alongside, rail to rail. And now the whole
intention was manifest at a glance, for the figures of six men, with
their caps pulled well down over their eyes, appeared at the Drab's
rail.
"All hands to repel boarders!" sang out Captain Tom Halstead, his
voice ringing defiantly. "Show 'em the best you can!"
Joe swung, with a single-stick trick he had learned and practiced. It
was a feint, aimed at the first of the Drab's crew to try to leap
aboard. The intended victim threw up his hands to ward off the blow
from the top of his head, but he received, instead, a stinging,
crushing slap across the face.
Tom thrust one end of his stick for the face of another of the
boarding strangers. The fellow strove to protect his face, and would
have guarded easily enough, but, instead, the other end of Tom's
bludgeon struck him in the pit of his stomach, depriving him of all
his wind.
"Woof!" grunted Hank, at the first sign of onslaught.
In both hands he clutched that business-like, though not formidable
looking, hitching weight. One man set his foot on deck. Hank, almost
with deliberation, dropped the weight on the toes of that foot.
There was a yell of pain. Snatching up the weight instantly, Hank let
it fly forward and fall across the toes of another of the boarders.
Two of the strangers were limping now. Another was nursing an injured
face, from Joe's heavy blow. Captain Tom's victim had fallen back
aboard his home craft, gasping for breath.
The other two of the invaders got aboard the "Restless"--then wished
they hadn't, for Hank pursued one of them with his terrifying hitching
weight, while Tom and Joe divided the sole remaining enemy between
them.
Hardly had the affair begun when it ended; it was all over in an
instant. The two who had escaped injury leaped back aboard the Drab.
Those who needed assistance were helped back. The Drab drifted away,
her vagrant course unheeded at first, for it looked as though all
aboard had taken part in that disastrous boarding enterprise.
Tom and Hank sprang for their own anchor, while Joe, as soon as he saw
the big motor boats drift apart, dropped into the small boat of the
"Restless" and rowed swiftly for shore. Hardly had he touched the
beach when Powell Seaton, rifle in hand, bounded forth from cover.
"Put across, and see if we can get Hepton, too," directed the
charter-man, in a low voice. "I stepped right up out of the bushes,
almost into the face of the fellow who landed on my side of the river.
It was neither Dalton nor Lemly. As soon as the fellow saw me he
laughed, put a chew of tobacco in his mouth, and went on."
Hardly had Seaton finished speaking when Joe Dawson shot the bow of
the little boat against the further bank. During this time Mr. Seaton
had kept his eyes on the drab boat, holding his rifle in readiness in
case another effort should be made to ram or board the "Restless."
"Oh, you-u-u-u!" called Joe, hailing. There was a sound in the woods,
and then Hepton came into sight.
"Did you see the man who landed on your side?" whispered Powell
Seaton, as Hepton reached the beach.
"Yes; he was just an ordinary roustabout chap," grunted Hepton,
disgustedly. "I had no orders to follow _him_, so I didn't take the
trouble."
"That's right. Jump in and we'll get aboard the 'Restless.'"
Hank had the motors working long before Joe returned with his two
passengers, and was standing by. Captain Tom was at the wheel, but
keeping the searchlight inquisitively on the Drab.
Now, the seventy-footer began to move off slowly down the coast, going
at a speed of perhaps six miles an hour. Halstead, without waiting for
orders, went in chase, keeping his place two hundred yards behind the
other craft. All the while he kept the searchlight swinging over the
Drab, from her port to starboard sides.
"That must annoy those fellows," observed Powell Seaton, with a
chuckle, as he stood by the young skipper.
"I reckon it does," returned Tom, dryly. "But it also prevents their
letting anyone off the boat without our seeing it. You see, sir,
they're only about a quarter of a mile off the coast here. Their small
boat could make a quick dash for the shore. Even a good swimmer could
go overboard. I don't intend to let anyone get off that seventy-footer
without our knowing all about it."
Halstead had not been silent long when he saw a bright flash from the
Drab, aft. It was followed, almost immediately, by the sound of a gun.
Then a bullet went by about two feet over their heads.
"That was meant for our searchlight," laughed Tom Halstead, coolly.
"Those fellows want to put it out of business."
With an ugly cry Hepton leaned over the edge of the forward
deck-house, sighting.
"Don't do that," called Captain Tom, sharply. Then he added: "I beg
your pardon, Mr. Seaton, but I don't believe you want any shooting to
come from us unless it's necessary."
"No, I don't," replied the charter-man, thoughtfully. "Dalton and
Lemly seem willing to take desperate chances, acting like pirates, in
fact. But we don't want to kill anyone, and, above all, we want to be
very sure we have the law on our side."
"They fired our way," urged Hepton, rather stubbornly. "We have a
right to defend ourselves."
"But they sent only one shot," replied Seaton. "They might afterwards
claim that it was an accidental discharge. Unless they make it very
plain that they're playing the part of pirates, we'd better take the
best of care not to put ourselves wrong before the law."
"That's all right, sir," admitted Hepton. "But, while I'm willing to
take any chances that go with my job, it doesn't seem just fair to ask
me to be exposed to bullets from that other boat without the right to
answer their fire."
"You can get down before the forward deck-house, Hepton," nodded
Halstead, pleasantly. "You can't be hit through the deck-house."
"But you can be hit, fine," objected Hepton.
"Like Mr. Seaton," answered the young skipper, "I'd rather take the
chance than do anything to put us in the wrong."
Grumbling a bit, though under his breath, Hepton seated himself where
the forward deck-house would protect him. Joe remained leaning
nonchalantly over the edge of the house.
"I wonder if they _will_ dare to keep up a fusillade?" he presently
said, watching the deck of the drab boat in the glare of light that
Halstead now held steadily on it.
"If they fire another shot at us," replied Powell Seaton, "then Hepton
and I will crouch over the forward deck-house, rifles ready, and fire
at the flash of the third shot. We'll keep within the law, but we
won't stand for any determined piracy that we have the power to
resist."
"Take the wheel, Hank," called Tom, presently. Then the young skipper
signed to his employer that he wanted to speak with him aft.
"Mr. Seaton," began Tom, "I want to ask you a few questions, with a
view to making a suggestion that may be worth while."
"Go ahead, Halstead."
"You trust me now, fully? Have you gotten wholly over your suspicions
of early this afternoon?"
"Halstead," replied the charter-man, in a tone uneasy with emotion,
"I'm wholly ashamed of anything that I may have said or thought.
You've shown me, since, how perfectly brave you are. I don't believe a
young man with your cool, resolute grit, and your clear head, _could_
be anything but absolutely honest."
"Thank you," acknowledged the young motor boat captain. "Now, Mr.
Seaton, though the two sets of papers describing and locating your
diamond field are out of your hands, don't you remember the contents
of the papers well enough to sit down at a desk and duplicate them?"
"Yes; surely," nodded Mr. Seaton, slowly.
"You feel certain that you can seat yourself and write out a set of
papers that would tell a man down in Brazil just how to locate the
diamond field?"
"I can, Halstead. It would be a matter of some hours of writing,
that's all. But why are you asking this? What plan have you in your
mind?"
"Well, I've got a hunch, sir," replied Tom Halstead, quietly, "that
you're never going to see the lost papers again. If Anson Dalton found
you getting close to him, and knew you could seize the papers, he'd
destroy them. It seems to me that our sole game must be to prevent his
ever getting those papers to Brazil ahead of a second set that you can
just as well write to-night."
"If we trail him all the time," replied Powell Seaton, thoughtfully,
"we can know whether the fellow succeeds in getting away on a ship to
Brazil. He can't go on that drab boat ahead, can he?"
"The seventy-footer would be quite good enough a boat to make the
voyage to Brazil," Halstead answered. "So would the 'Restless,' for
that matter. The only trouble would be that neither boat could carry
anywhere near enough gasoline for such a voyage."
"Then Anson Dalton, if he gets away to Brazil, will have to board some
regular liner or freighter? Well, as long as we keep him in sight,
we'll know whether he's doing that."
"But Dalton will get desperate," Tom warned his employer. "While
holding onto the papers he has succeeded in obtaining, he can make a
copy, and he may very likely determine to send the copies to your old
enemy, Terrero, by mail. Now, Mr. Seaton, it seems to me that your
best hope is to duplicate the missing papers at once, and, if you
can't find in haste a messenger you'll trust, then you had better send
the papers by registered mail to your friends in Rio Janeiro."
Powell Seaton stared at the young skipper, going deathly pale.
"Captain Halstead, don't you understand that the possession of such a
set of papers, at Rio Janeiro, would mean that the possessor could
locate and file a patent to the diamond field, of which no one, save
myself, at present knows the exact location? Why, even if the postal
authorities do their very best to put the papers in the proper hands,
anyone like a dishonest clerk might get the papers in his hands. The
temptation would be powerful for anyone who had the papers to locate
the mine at once for himself."
"I understand, fully," agreed Captain Tom. "But the whole thing has
become a desperate case, now, and some desperate chances must be
taken if you're to have a good chance to win out against Terrero and
his crooked friends."
"Then you--you--honestly believe I'd better make out another set of
papers and mail them to my friends of the syndicate, at Rio Janeiro?"
faltered Mr. Seaton.
"Yes; unless you prefer to be almost certain of losing your fight for
the great fortune. For Dalton, of course, knows that you can send a
set of the papers by mail. He'll feel like taking the same desperate
chance in order to have a better chance of getting in ahead of you."
"By mail--even registered mail?" groaned Mr. Seaton. "It seems an
awful--desperate chance to take. Yet----"
"Prepare a duplicate set of the papers," proposed Tom Halstead, "and,
if you'll trust me, I'll board the first Rio-bound steamer that we
meet, and go through for you. I'll give you every guarantee that's
possible to find your people in Rio and turn the papers over to
them."
"Will you?" demanded Seaton, peering eagerly into his young skipper's
eyes.
"Then you'll trust me to go as your messenger to Rio?"
"Yes, in a minute, Halstead! Yet I'm thinking of the great danger
you'd be running. At this moment Terrero's spies must be plentiful in
Rio Janeiro. Why, even every steamer that leaves New York for Brazil
may carry his men aboard, alert, watchful and deadly. You don't know
what a man like Terrero is like. The constant danger to you----"
"Constant danger," laughed Tom Halstead, softly, "is something that
most men learn readily to face. Otherwise, wars would be impossible."
"But that is very different," retorted Powell Seaton, quickly. "In war
men have the constant elbow-touch, the presence and support of
comrades. But you would be alone--one against hundreds, perhaps, at
the very instant when you set foot ashore in Brazil."
"I'll take the chance, if you let me," declared Captain Tom. "But,
now, sir, you're losing time. Why don't you go below, get writing
materials, and start in earnest to get out the duplicate papers?"
"I will," nodded the charter-man. "Should I change my mind, it will be
easy enough to burn the sheets after I have written them."
As Powell Seaton turned to go down into the cabin Joe Dawson called
sharply:
"Tom, something's up ahead! Come here, quickly!"