FOR PIRACY ON THE HIGH SEAS.
The boys hastened down to the campfire and quickly extinguished it, much
to the disgust of Jimmie, who had begun the preparation of an elaborate
meal--at least as elaborate as could be gotten together out of tin cans.
This precaution taken, the _Manhattan_ was towed into the mouth of the
little creek and climbers and creepers drawn over her until no one would
have suspected her presence there. The engine was not set in motion in
making this change because of the danger from the explosions.
All this accomplished, Ned and Pat climbed back to the shelf of rock and
again looked out over the mysterious China Sea. There were the two
lights, one to the west and one to the north. They were closer to the
island than before, however, and the light up toward Formosa was drawing
to the south rapidly.
"They are going to meet here, all right," Pat said, "and I'll go apples
to snowballs that they've got arms for the insurrectos. The manager of
this enterprise never let all those chiefs get away from that other
island without signing the treaty, and now he's sneaking in guns to help
them out."
The boys discussed the situation for some moments, the lights coming
nearer with astonishing rapidity. At length another light showed away to
the south and west, but not such a light as the others.
It was not high up in the air, like the others, and directly it seemed
to divide itself into half a dozen points. Its progress toward the
island seemed to be even faster than that of the others.
"That's a steamer," Ned said, after a long look through his glass.
"The other lights are on steamers, too," Pat replied. "No wind-jammer
could make the time, in this calm, that those boats are making."
While the boys looked the lights went out, or appeared to, and there was
only the glimmer of the unfamiliar constellations of the heavens over
the China Sea.
"That's strange!"
Pat turned to Ned and grasped him by the arm.
"What do you make of it?" he continued.
"That may be a signal," was the reply.
"If it is, the glims will show again directly."
"They may," was the reply.
But the lights did not show again, and, after waiting for an hour or
more, the boys started back to the camp. Half way down, the dull,
reverberating boom of a cannon came to their ears, over the water.
"What does that mean?" asked Pat.
"It may be the gunboat Jimmie insisted would be sent for me," smiled
Ned.
"You don't really think that?"
"Hardly," was the reply, "but I don't know what to make of it."
"Perhaps it was a command for the other ships to show their lights," Pat
suggested.
"I hope Uncle Sam is becoming wise to the game that is being played down
here," Ned said, "and has sent a gunboat to look into it."
"That's it!" cried Pat. "That's just it! If she doesn't pass the ships
in the dark there'll be something doing here."
The dull boom of the gun came again, and, far out, the low lights of the
gunboat showed above the water. She seemed to be passing swiftly to the
north.
"She's going to pass us, all right!" Pat cried. "Now, what did she make
that noise for? To warn the ships that she was coming, and to get out of
the way?"
"There's some good reason," Ned replied.
In a moment a searchlight shot out from the gunboat and prowled over the
sea. The boys could see it moving about, but could not see that it
picked up the ships which had previously shown the lights. One of the
vessels, it appeared, was too far to the south and the other too far to
the north to be reached by the traveling rays from the gunboat.
"She's slowing down!" Pat cried, in a moment. "She's going to search the
islands. Glory be!"
"You may not want to meet her people, after you find out what they
want," said Ned. "Remember that battle with the Filipinos back there."
"I'm willing to take chances with them," was the reply.
The boys now hastened back to camp and Ned passed on to the creek where
the _Manhattan_ lay in hiding.
"Jimmie," he said, turning to face that young gentleman, "do you
remember whether those rockets we bought at Manila were put on board?"
"Sure they were!" was the reply. "Want 'em?"
Ned replied that he did, and the boy went prospecting in the lockers of
the boat.
"Got 'em!" he cried presently.
"Do you know how to send them off?" asked Ned.
"Do I? Well, if you'd ever seen me bossin' the fireworks at Tompkins
Square, in little old N. Y., I guess you wouldn't ask that!"
Just then Jack came blundering along through the brush and half fell
into the boat.
"You'd make a fine scout!" Jimmie said. "You move through the thickets
with the stealth and grace of an elephant!"
"What's that firing about?" asked Jack, paying no attention to the boy
and facing Ned anxiously, his face only half seen in the semi-darkness.
"That is what I want you to find out," was the reply. "I want you and
Jimmie to put the boat in running condition, everything ready for a
spurt of speed. And I want you to remain here in the boat, ready to
shoot out in a second."
"All right! That's easy."
"You may have to wait a long time," Ned went on, "and you may have to go
inside of five minutes. When you go, muffle the engine as much as
possible, but run like the Old Nick was after you--run for the gunboat
out there!"
"They'll pinch me!" wailed Jimmie.
"And when you get to the gunboat," Ned continued, "tell the officer in
charge that Nestor is a prisoner on this island, and that the
insurrectos are about to land guns and ammunition here."
"You a prisoner!" Jack echoed. "What's the use of lying about it?"
"I shall be a prisoner by the time you reach the gunboat," Ned said,
coolly--as calmly as if he had been announcing that he would be taking
his supper at that time.
"If you go in the _Manhattan_," Jack said, "you won't be a prisoner
here."
"But I've got to stay here," Ned said, "and besides, the boat must not
be loaded down. She may have to make a hot run for the gunboat."
"I don't know what you're up to," Jack said, doubtfully, "but I guess
you do, so I'll do just as you say."
"What about the rockets?" asked Jimmie.
"They are to be used in signaling the gunboat," Ned replied. "She may be
a long ways off when you get out there."
When the boys at the camp had finished their supper, eaten in the
darkness, and watched the sea for signs of the ships for half an hour,
they started toward the boat. Then another shot came over the water,
followed by two more, fired in quick succession. Ned joined them
instantly, for, following the shots, the rattle of sailing gear and the
thud-thud of boxes or boards on a deck echoed over the sea.
"One of the ships is close in," Ned said. "Now we'll see if the owners
are unloading missionaries here!"
The vessel close in looked like an old-fashioned top-sail schooner;
still there was an engine and a propeller. She was a three-master, and
looked, in the uncertain light, as if she had been in service in the
East for a long time.
She glided into the harbor between the Tusks as if she knew every inch
of the channel, and brought up close to a flat surface of rock on one of
the Tusks, which formed a natural pier. Then the hatches were opened,
and shaded lanterns gleamed about the deck.
Ned glanced back over the mountain, and was astonished at seeing a green
signal light there, almost at the top. The men on the schooner saw the
signal, too, for Ned could see them pointing at it, could hear them
laughing as if a great point had been gained.
"Wonder why we didn't see that?" asked Frank. "It must have been there
when the lights showed from the ships."
"We didn't go up high enough, or it might not have been there when we
were looking," was the reply.
"Well," Frank said, then, "if we didn't see the chap who is tending that
light on the mountain, he must have seen us; or if he didn't see us he
must have heard the engine of the _Manhattan_ doing her talking stunt."
"Probably," replied Ned.
The matter was more serious than his manner indicated, for he turned
quickly and walked toward the _Manhattan_, calling out softly to Pat as
he did so. There was no answer for a moment, and then it came in the
shape of a dozen pistol shots.
Ned dropped down behind a clump of bushes and waited for an instant,
resolved to know what was going on at the boat before advancing. Then
the boys from the camp came running up, asking questions, and all made a
rush for the boat.
When they came within sight of the spot where she lay, they saw that she
was moving out into the bay, and that Pat was standing by the engine
whirling the fly-wheel. On the shore were a score of Filipinos, standing
with guns turned toward the boat.
The boys saw Ned and Frank spring forward, saw them hesitate an instant,
and then drop to the ground. The _Manhattan_ swung out into the bay with
engines snapping and propeller churning the smooth waters.
"Whoop--ee!" shouted Pat from the deck.
"Got her off all right!" shouted Jimmie. "Nobody hurt!"
"Straight to the Northwest," shouted Ned, "and keep your rockets going!"
"I wish we had been able to get on board," Frank said, regretfully, as
the _Manhattan_ showed a clean pair of heels out of the bay. "I saw Jack
on her."
"The boys on board have their instructions," Ned said, "and now we may
as well be getting out of range of these little brown men! If Pat and
the others hadn't been on their guard the boat would have been
captured."
The moon was rising now, almost at full, and brought the natives,
standing on the beach, out in full relief. They were well armed, and
seemed very angry at the turn matters had taken. They had evidently been
sent out to capture the boat, and were not pleased at the report they
would now be obliged to make.
They stood looking out at the fast receding boat for only a moment
before opening fire on her. Directly, however, the _Manhattan_ was out
of range, and then they turned their attention to Ned's party, which,
being hidden by the thicket, might not have been discovered at that time
only for the instructions shouted out by Ned as the boat slid away.
Knowing that he would be between two fires if a battle opened, Ned made
no show of resistance when the natives approached him with leveled guns.
There was a great bustle between the Tusks now, showing that the cargo
of the schooner, whatever it was, was being landed, and it was natural
to suppose that there existed an understanding between the crew and the
men on the island.
"Don't try to shoot!" a voice said in good English. "My men have you
covered."
"Who are you?" asked Ned, not much surprised, after what had taken
place, to find the party officered by an American.
"An officer in the United States army," was the unexpected reply.
"Then what are you doing all this shooting for?" demanded Frank. "Why
did you molest the _Manhattan_, here on government service?"
"We'll see about the service she is on later," replied the officer.
"Beat it for the harbor, all of you."
When the party reached the Tusks the crew of the schooner was busy
unloading long pine boxes which looked as if they contained shovels and
hoes, and seemed to be very heavy. The second vessel, the one which had
been observed in the north, lay close in.
"Where's the officer in charge?" asked Ned, as they approached a group
standing at the head of the harbor.
The officer who had captured the boys pointed out a tall, rather
fine-looking man who was standing, pencil and paper in hand, checking
off the boxes as they crashed down on the beach.
"There he is," was the information given. "Lieutenant Carstens, and a
mighty good man at that!"
The Filipino boy stepped forward, as if anticipating a friendly greeting
and then drew back in confusion. Lieutenant Carstens had looked him
fairly in the face and had not recognized him.
Ned did not step forward to present his side of the case to the man
pointed out to him, for there was no need to do so. The man was the one
he had met in the tea house in Yokohama, in the Street of a Thousand
Steps.
"Go on and give him a talk," Frank said, as Ned drew back.
"There is not a bit of use," Ned replied. "The man is a crook, and is
not acting for the government here."
"Then why these vessels?" asked Frank. "He must be a good deal of a wise
crook if be sails about with a fleet like that."
"I rather think he is a good deal of a wise crook," Ned replied. "He's
the man whom Jimmie saw mixing with the rebel chiefs."
"But look here," Frank insisted, "look at the blue coats unloading the
boxes. They are in the service, for sure. This Lieutenant Carstens may
be a crook, but he has a command in the United States navy, all right."
One of the men who was assisting the Lieutenant in the tally now called
his attention to the prisoners and the Filipino boy standing by their
side. He listened for a moment to what was said to him, then motioned
for the Filipino boy to approach. The two talked for a moment in
Spanish, and then the boy, evidently much against his will, was sent on
board the ship.
In a few moments the Lieutenant turned to Ned, a smile of victory on his
lips.
"Well," he said, "your career as a pirate has been brought to a sudden
close."
"What do you mean by that?" demanded Ned.
The question was a natural one, but was entirely unnecessary, for the
boy knew what was meant--knew on what desperate chance the lives of
himself and his friends rested.
"I mean," answered the Lieutenant, "that you are under arrest for piracy
on the high seas. Also for deliberate murder. Also for the larceny of
the _Manhattan_ from Manila."
"Very well," Ned replied, coolly, "take me back to Manila for trial. I
am willing to go with you."
"We don't take pirates back to Manila for trial," was the sneering
reply. "We give them a hearing and shoot them down on the spot. I'll
attend to your case directly."
"You've got your nerve!" cried Frank.
The Lieutenant turned with a snarl and pointed the end of his pencil
toward the two boys.
"Put them in irons," he said. "We'll give them a drum-head when we get
the goods out of the _Clara_ and will shoot them at midnight."
The boys made no resistance. That would have been useless, for there
were twenty to one against them.
"And," continued the officer, "send for the relatives of the natives
this man Nestor murdered on Banta Isle. We'll have them for witnesses."
"They attacked me," Ned said, in a second sorry that he had spoken at
all.
"They were ordered to recover the _Manhattan_, property stolen from the
government," was the reply, "and you resisted them. Put a stick in his
mouth, Ben, if he talks any more."
Ben, a muscular, scar-faced fellow of thirty, stepped forward and took a
seat on the rock near the captives. He had the mild, soft eyes of a
student of theology and the square jaw and hard hands of a prize
fighter.
"You're to keep your face closed--see?" he said, nudging Ned in the side
with an elbow. "You're to keep your clapper tied," he went on, "or I'll
tie it up for you. And how in the name of the Seven Seas did you ever
get in such a scrape, Ned Nestor?"
The last words were spoken very softly, but before that Ned had
recognized the man as one he had known and liked on the water front in
New York.
"You're in a bad box," Ben went on, "for that slob means business."
"There's just one chance for us," Ned whispered. "If the rockets are all
right, and the gunboat is not too far away to see the signals!"