“CUTTER AHOY!”
In a back room of a disreputable drinking resort on a narrow street
leading from the water front were seated two youths clad in the uniform
worn by United States naval cadets.
On the table between them were a bottle and two glasses. Both youths
were smoking cigarettes, and both appeared ill at ease.
“I can’t stand this much longer, Chris,” said one, nervously flipping
the ash from his cigarette. “If that little beggar don’t turn up pretty
soon----”
“You’ll go and look for him,” interrupted the other, with a sneer.
“Don’t be a fool. How could I find him in this confounded city?”
He snapped open his watch and added, abruptly:
“Almost seven. Confound it! what can be keeping him?”
“Probably had trouble finishing---- What’s the matter?”
The other had banged the table with his clinched fist.
“Shut up, will you?” he snarled. “Haven’t you any sense, talking like
that? Do you want to get us--us hanged? People may be listening. It
isn’t so anyway. Nothing was to be done except giving--except giving
Far--him a scare.”
Chris Spendly slowly sent a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. He
smiled grimly. “We won’t argue that question, Judson,” he drawled. “But
when you cough up fifty dollars and promise fifty more, it’s not for
the purpose of giving people a scare. And that’s true enough.”
Before his companion could reply there was a sound at a door leading
to the rear yard. Both sprang to their feet, Judson white-faced and
trembling.
A lithe, sinewy, barefooted lad hurriedly entered the room. He was
breathing heavily, and his face was mottled white as if from deadly
fear.
He tried to speak, but before the words could form themselves an
interruption came in the shape of a loud knock at the door opening into
the bar.
With a gasping cry, the lad vanished in the direction whence he had
come. The cry was echoed by Judson, who stood cowering near the table.
“We are suspected,” he moaned. “It has been done, and they are
after----”
“Stop that, you fool!” grated Spendly. “How can they suspect us?”
He strode to the door and fumbled at the key unsteadily. He was pale,
but there was desperate determination written in his face.
At last the lock yielded and the door flung open revealing--the man in
charge of the place.
“You want more drink?” he asked, in broken English, bowing humbly.
“No!” snarled Chris, tossing him a piece of money.
“Come on,” he added to Judson. “It’s time we were at the dock.”
They had presence of mind enough to saunter forth leisurely, but once
free of the ill-favored resort they quickened their steps almost to a
run.
“It won’t do for you to be seen looking like that,” exclaimed Spendly,
roughly, passing under a street lamp. “Brace up, you fool. You would
give yourself away to a blind man.”
Judson pulled himself together with an effort. He was ghastly pale, but
he walked steadily as they resumed their way toward the dock.
They found the majority of the liberty party gathered there awaiting
the hour set for returning on board.
It was on the stroke of eight and the boats were already on their way
ashore.
Shortly after Judson and Chris reached the dock, a carriage drove up
and Joy and Nanny leaped out close to where the former were standing.
Joy glanced anxiously from one to the other of the group of cadets. His
face was even more grave than usual. And Nanny looked as if tears were
not far away from his eyes.
“I say,” called out the lanky plebe, “has any one seen Faraday?”
Judson and Spendly shrank back into the shadows.
“No,” replied a first class cadet named Blakely. “He ought to be here.
Why, what’s up? You fellows look worried.”
“We can’t understand why Clif isn’t here, that’s all. He went out to a
place in the suburbs at four o’clock and was to meet us on the dock at
six. We’ve been up to the house where he called and they said he left
there in a carriage shortly before dark.”
“He may have stopped somewhere on the way back.”
“No. Clif is not the fellow to break a promise if he could help it.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” came from the shadows back of Blakely. “He’s not so
much. I guess he’d break more than a promise if it came to the point.”
“You wouldn’t dare to say that to his face, Chris Spendly,” retorted
Nanny, warmly. “He’d make you shake in your boots.”
Chris discreetly remained silent. His malignant nature had caused him
to revile the boy whom he knew in his vicious heart was lying mangled
and bleeding at the foot of the bluff, but he had sense enough not to
carry it too far.
And Judson was frantically plucking at his sleeve and begging him to
remain quiet for Heaven’s sake.
“I think you will see Faraday showing up in ample time, youngsters,”
said Blakely, kindly, addressing Joy and Nanny. “There isn’t any reason
why he shouldn’t.”
“Here come the boats!” suddenly exclaimed a cadet.
Three men-of-war cutters dashed in from the darkness and rounded to
alongside the landing steps.
An officer sprang out, glanced at his watch, then cried briskly:
“The liberty party will fall in and answer promptly as the names are
called.”
He produced a paper and rapidly read from it by the light of a boat
lantern held by the coxswain.
“Mr. Andrews.”
“Present, sir.”
“Mr. Blakely.”
“Present, sir.”
“Mr. Caldwell.”
“Here, sir.”
“Donovan.”
“Present, sir.”
“Mr. Faraday.”
No reply. The line of cadets shifted uneasily and a subdued murmur
arose.
“Mr. Faraday,” repeated the ensign, in a louder voice.
Still no answer.
“Any one seen Mr. Faraday?” was the next question, given impatiently.
“Not since four o’clock, sir,” replied Joy, glumly. “He went visiting
and has probably been detained.”
“He knows the hour. We can’t wait longer than three minutes.”
The officer’s watch snapped with a determined click. The time passed
slowly. Many anxious eyes were directed toward the gate at the end of
the dock, for Clif, by his manliness and sturdy independence, won more
than one friend even among the enemy.
“Time’s up! Get into the boats,” at last came from the ensign.
Joy and Nanny obeyed with evident reluctance, but Chris Spendly and
Judson Greene seemed surprisingly eager to shake the dust of the city
from their feet.
“I do not like to report Mr. Faraday absent,” said the young officer,
as he took his place in the stern of the first cutter, “but duty is
duty. Up oars! Ready! Let fall----”
“Cutter, ahoy!”
The hail, clear and sharp, came from the other end of the dock. The
gate swung back and a youth clad in a naval cadet uniform ran toward
the boats.
As he passed under a light a cry came from one of the cutters:
“Clif Faraday!”
The cry was followed by a commotion in the boat.
“What’s the matter there?” called out the ensign, sternly.
“Judson Greene has fainted, sir.”
A little later a group composed of the majority of the plebes and a
sprinkling of upper class cadets was gathered around Clif as he leaned
against the pivot gun on the _Monongahela’s_ forecastle.
The faces of all save the central figure were expressive of the
liveliest interest and excitement.
“And they got you against the stone rampart in the park, you say?”
eagerly questioned Grat Wallace.
“Yes,” replied Clif. “There were two of them, the driver of the
carriage and that scoundrelly little diver, Pedro. I thought my end had
come. In fact, to use a common expression, I saw my finish. I had no
intention of giving up, though.”
“Not you,” broke out Nanny.
“Thanks,” laughed Clif; then he continued:
“I don’t know how it happened without”--his voice grew soft and
reverend--“the Almighty interposed and aided me. All I know is that we
were struggling on the very edge of the stone rampart when the driver
slipped over the edge and”--Clif shuddered--“fell down to a horrible
death.”
“Served him right!” exclaimed more than one voice.
“I whipped the coat from my head just in time to see Pedro disappear
among the trees. I gave chase, but he escaped me. I was pretty well
shaken up, I tell you, but I managed to reach the central police
headquarters and told my story to an interpreter.”
“And the driver?”
“They found him an hour later on the roof of a house at the foot of the
bluff. He was a mass of broken bones.”
“And all this was done simply because you made that little Portuguese
diver angry this morning?” said one of the group.
“I suppose so,” replied Clif, thoughtfully; “but it does seem the
fellow must have had some other reason than petty revenge and robbery.
If so, it’s bound to come out some day.”