CHAP BOARDS THE MAGGIE.
When Chap Webster stood alone on the deck of The Rolling Stone in the
bright, cool air of the early morning and gazed at the dirty little
sail-boat, which lay near the shore a short distance above, his
feelings were of a very confused nature.
At first he was simply astonished to see the Maggie lying so near them.
He had supposed that the fellows who had stolen the boat would be
afraid to come near the people they had injured. But, after all, it was
no use to be surprised at the impudence of such men. For some reason
or other they had stolen in here, either at night or very early in the
morning.
The bow of the Maggie was toward Chap, and the little cabin prevented
him from seeing anybody who might be in the stern; but very soon it
was evident that there were persons on board of her, and that they were
awake.
There was a slight noise of people moving about, and directly the heads
of the two men were seen above the cabin. Chap instinctively dodged
behind the cabin of his own boat, but he kept his eyes fixed on the two
fellows, one of whom presently put a water-keg upon his shoulders, and
then, with rolled-up trousers and bare feet, both of them waded ashore.
They had anchored their boat in about a foot of water, thinking that if
they ran her on the sand, they might not be able to get off in a hurry
if occasion required them to do so.
It was now plain enough why they had come in here. They were out of
fresh water, and this was the only place for miles where any could be
obtained.
As he looked upon the two men who had treated him so badly and who
had been the cause of so much trouble and imminent danger to the
whole party, Chap began to feel angry. He had believed and steadily
asserted that the rascals had been let off entirely too easily, and now
his whole soul became filled with a desire to punish them for their
misdeeds. If he could meet them, one at a time, he would undertake
to give them in turn a good thrashing; but the cowards always kept
together, and he did not care to wake up his companions to assist in
the desired acts of retributive justice.
For some reason or other Adam and the boys never seemed to enter into
his plans in that whole-souled way which he would have liked. They
dampened his enthusiasm, and, as he frequently thought, he never felt
so much like a captain as when he was captain of himself.
When the two young men with the keg disappeared among the bushes in
the path which led to the spring--for this was one of the regular
camping-places on the river--one of those bright ideas to which Chap
was subject popped into his mind.
Gently taking down a double-barrelled gun, loaded with buckshot, from
the hooks in the cabin on which it hung, and moving very cautiously so
as not to awaken his companions, he stepped out on the sand.
He wore nothing but shirt and trousers, and, rolling up the latter, he
ran along the beach to the Maggie, waded out to her, and got on board.
Then, with his gun still in his hand, he slipped into the little cabin,
where he crouched on his hands and knees.
There was a curtain at the open end of the cabin, and Chap drew this in
front of him, so as to better conceal himself, leaving open a little
crack through which he might peep.
He had conceived the plan of remaining here until the two young men
had reappeared, and were about to come on board. Then he would suddenly
bounce out, and with loaded and cocked gun in hand, he would stop them
just where they stood, and then he would give them a piece of his mind,
and they should not move backward nor forward until he had said all he
had to say.
They had taken possession of his boat, and he would take possession of
theirs, and they should not have it again until he chose to give it to
them.
Not another step should they take in their sneaking and nefarious
career while it was his pleasure that they should stand and listen to
him. This would be some satisfaction for the wrong he had sustained at
their hands.
It seemed to the waiting Chap that the young men stayed away a very
long time, but at last they reappeared, bearing the keg between them.
But they did not act exactly as Chap desired.
One of them took the keg on his shoulder, while the other walked toward
the bow of the boat. They thus became separated, and Chap could not yet
carry out his plans. He must have them together so that he could cover
them both with his gun. He could not deliver a lecture to one while the
other was creeping up behind him. So he did not immediately rush out.
In the mean time, the man with the keg put his burden on board, and
stepped in himself. The other one got on the bow, and pulled the boat
out toward the anchor, which was in deeper water. In doing this he
turned the Maggie around, so that the stern was toward The Rolling
Stone, the occupants of which were still sound asleep.
The man at the bow having pulled the anchor on board, stepped aft, and
the two stood together for a moment on the stern, looking at the other
boat. As they did so, Chap heard them make some derogatory remarks
about the fellows who had taken their guns, and then one of them, with
a low, disagreeable laugh, said he wondered what had become of the
long-legged fellow they had chucked overboard.
This remark made Chap grind his teeth with anger. He would show them
what had become of the long-legged fellow!
A desire for immediate vengeance possessed his whole being, and a
plan of action flashed into his mind. Laying down his gun, and softly
pushing aside the curtain, he made one wild bound directly at the
two men, striking each of them in the middle of the back with his
outstretched hands.
So sudden and tremendous was the unexpected push, that each of the
fellows bent forward, tripped over the gunwale, and went head-foremost
into the river, the boat being now in about four feet of water.
[Illustration: “Crouch down there, you varlets!”]
Chap sprang instantly for his gun, and by the time the two dripping and
astounded faces arose from the water, he was standing on the stern with
his double-barrelled weapon cocked and pointed at them.
“Aha!” he cried; “now you know where that long-legged fellow is! And
now perhaps you know how it feels to be chucked into the water. Crouch
down there, you varlets!” he shouted, as one of them began to move
toward the shore. “If you stir from where you are, or lift your chins
out of water, I’ll fire into you.”
The two fellows, pale, frightened, and trembling, crouched down, with
their mouths just above the surface of the water, while the fiery Chap
told them what he thought of them.
“You’re a pretty couple of sneaks to come along, two to one, and pitch
into a fellow who treated you as if you were decent human beings, and
then steal everything he has, and leave him alone to starve or,”--he
was going to add, “or freeze to death,” but remembering that this would
not be possible in that climate, he said,--“or perish in any way he
thought best. You didn’t care what became of him. I’m not going to tell
you the trouble you caused the rest of the party, but if ever two wild
beasts deserve to be shot, you do.”
Chap’s face now glowed with such righteous indignation that one of the
young men piteously begged him not to point that cocked gun at them,
for it might go off.
“Go off!” cried Chap, without moving the weapon. “It would serve you
right if it did go off, and put an end to your lives of crime. Such
creatures as you are not needed in this world any more than snakes or
alligators.”
This last word seemed to instinctively affect one of the men, who,
turning his eyes riverward, saw, or thought he saw, something dark
moving along in the deep water beyond. Seized by a new fear, he raised
himself and made a step toward shore.
Without a second’s hesitation Chap pointed his gun a few feet above the
fellow’s head and fired; and at the instant of the report both heads
disappeared beneath the surface of the water.
The sound of Chap’s voice, when he was haranguing the two men in the
water, aroused the occupants of the other boat, and Phil, Phœnix, and
Adam were soon popping up their heads to see what Chap was about.
“Hello!” cried Phœnix, “he is on a boat over there talking like
wildfire.”
“I believe he is preaching to a pair of turtles!” cried Phil.
“Look here,” said Adam, with alarm in his countenance, “there’s
something up. Slip on some clothes, and let’s get over there. That’s
the Maggie, and he’s got them two fellers in the water.”
“What on earth does it mean?” asked Phil.
“Haven’t the least idea,” said Adam, “but we must----”
At this moment the report of Chap’s gun rung through the air, and Adam
and the two boys, barefooted and partially dressed, did not wait for
another instant, but sprang from the boat and ran for the scene of
commotion.
The wind had gradually blown the Maggie landward, and she was now
grounded in very shallow water.
Chap still stood upon the stern, with his gun pointed to the two men,
who, having held their heads under water until their faces were nearly
black with suffocation, had now raised themselves, and were begging
piteously that Chap would put down that gun and let them out. But the
relentless Chap was just beginning a fresh series of denunciations,
when Adam sprang on board of the Maggie, and, seizing his arm, threw up
the muzzle of the gun.
“What on earth are you about?” cried the astonished sailor. “Are you
goin’ to kill ’em?”
“No,” said Chap, coolly; “I haven’t any idea of killing them. I only
wanted to soak some of the wickedness out of them.”
“Well, I reckon they’re soaked about enough,” said Adam.
“All right!” said Chap, with a grand air. “You have my permission
to come out now, and I have nothing more to say to you. I think you
understand by this time what sort of an opinion I have of you.”
And, so saying, he shouldered his gun, and went ashore, where, joining
the two boys, he gave them an account of the adventure, which they
received with shouts of laughter.
“Now, then,” said Adam to the two dripping men, who had climbed on the
deck of the Maggie, “you had better put on some dry clothes, and get
out of this as quick as you can. I don’t want to see you shot; but
you’ve done enough to that young man to warrant him in gettin’ any kind
o’ satisfaction out o’ you, short o’ killin’, and I don’t know what
he may take it into his head to do next. I s’pose you put in here for
water.”
The young men were dragging some old trousers and shirts from under
their bunks, and while one of them surlily remarked that they had got
their water, and did not want to stay there any longer, the other made
an earnest appeal to have their guns restored to them.
“Not much!” said Adam. “I wouldn’t trust you with ’em afore, and I
guess you’re in a worse temper now than you were when I took ’em.
We’ll leave the guns at the hotel in Titusville, and you can go there
and git ’em; and that’s all I have to say about it.”
And, with this remark, Adam left the Maggie, which in ten minutes more
had pushed off and was sailing away.
[Illustration]