IN WHICH LARRY ACTS QUICKLY.
The men went on deck, leaving the cabin deserted. Before departing,
Larry, through a crack of the door, saw Captain Naxon put away a number
of papers in a locker at one side of the cabin.
As soon as he felt safe to do so, our hero stole into the cabin, opened
the locker and taking the papers, thrust them into the inner pocket of
his coat.
He was not certain, but he felt that the papers concerned himself and
his father.
As the rascals gained the deck, the young fireman heard Captain Naxon
order the rowboat brought around.
“Going ashore?” asked a strange voice.
“Yes.”
“What of the prisoner?”
“Leave him in the hold until I get back,” answered Captain Naxon.
At this Larry smiled grimly.
“I don’t think you’ll find me in the hold—even if you do ever get
back,” he said to himself.
Creeping to the level of the deck, Larry saw all hands at the side of
the schooner, watching the departure of the captain and the others in
the small boat.
The weather was clearing a little, and at a considerable distance could
be seen the twinkling light of Perth and South Amboy.
“If I was only on land,” he mused. “How can I get there?”
With the slyness of a cat he crept to the stern of the schooner. There
in the water rested a small rowboat, with oars stowed under the seats,
for the captain and the others were using a boat belonging to Conroy.
With his heart thumping wildly, our hero let himself down into the
rowboat. At a distance he could hear Conroy rowing, but the darkness
hid the other small craft from view.
It was but the work of a moment for our hero to unfasten the rowboat
and push as far as possible away from the Skylark.
Then he got out the oars and began to row with all the skill he could
command, which was saying a good deal, for Larry had frequently been
out on the river at Ferryville.
He took care to keep away from the other boat, but made out where his
enemies landed, by their voices. It was at the old boathouse where he
had been made a prisoner by Conroy and Martin Pollox.
He himself landed some distance away and then followed the four like a
grim shadow.
He soon learned that Martin Pollox and Sluggers were going back to New
York, the former to get the cash promised to Captain Naxon and Conroy.
The captain and the oyster pirate were bound for the cottage in which
the latter lived, down near the railroad bridge.
“So far so good,” thought our hero. “Now to examine those papers I
took, and then to get the police to help me.”
He walked up into the town and by the aid of a street lamp began to
look over the documents taken from the locker.
They proved to be some communications from Martin Pollox to the captain
concerning the carrying off of Walter Barlow. Pollox had signed only
his initials, but his handwriting was not disguised in the least.
By these letters Larry made out that his father had been taken to
Ponce on the Island of Porto Rico, and was now at a private asylum for
the insane somewhere in the interior of the island. Nothing was paid
for keeping him, as he was made to work out his board on a plantation
connected with the asylum.
“He can’t be insane!” muttered Larry. “It is a trick—a base trick to
keep him from returning to New York!”
“Hey, young fellow, you’re out kind of late, ain’t you?”
The voice was close to Larry, and turning he saw a policeman at his
elbow.
“Yes, I am,” he answered, “and I’m glad you came up. Where can I find
the police headquarters?”
“Why, anything wrong?”
“Yes, something is very much wrong. I want two men arrested without
delay.”
“What for?”
“For several crimes, including carrying me off to a ship against my
will.”
“Tried to shanghai you, did they?”
“Yes.”
The policeman quickly directed Larry to the headquarters, and here two
policemen were called into service, and the whole party set out for
Conroy’s cottage.
“Conroy’s a bad egg,” said one of the officers, as the party trudged
along in the wind and scattering rain. “He ought to have been arrested
on general principles long ago.”
“If they are doing any talking I would like to hear what is said before
we break in on them,” said Larry.
“All right.”
Soon the vicinity of the cottage was gained. A bright light burned in
the kitchen. They drew closer and discovered Conroy and Captain Naxon
sitting at the table, smoking, drinking and looking over some papers
Conroy had produced from a trunk.
“You ought to have stood out for more money, Jack,” the captain was
saying. “Pollox can pay it easily enough. You have a good grip on him.”
“I’ll get more out of him later on,” answered Conroy. “I ain’t like
you, I’m going to remain on shore.”
“I half wish I could remain behind,” said the captain, with a nod. “I’d
squeeze him, too. Why, he must have made a lot of money by getting
Walter Barlow out of the way.”
“He claims he hasn’t done nothing with that invention yet,” answered
Conroy. “He said the boy’s turning up knocked his plans all out.”
“Well, we’ve got the boy out of the way now.”
“Where are you going to take him?”
“Down to South America.”
“And after you get him there, what then?”
“Oh, I reckon he’ll fall overboard some dark night,” and the captain of
the Skylark laughed harshly.
Larry nudged one of the policemen.
“Do you hear that?” he whispered. “They are talking about me and my
father.”
“They are rascals, and no mistake,” was the guarded reply.
“You’ll have to be slick about it,” went on Conroy.
“I’ll manage it.”
“Why didn’t you pitch old Barlow overboard?”
“Pollox didn’t want it. He was afraid he would want Barlow to tell him
something about the inventions, and the man couldn’t do that if he was
dead.”
“Don’t Barlow ever kick?”
“I suppose so. I haven’t seen him in over a year now.”
The captain yawned, and changed the subject.
“Now, I guess we had better arrest them,” said Larry. “But be careful
they don’t get away. They’ll fight hard when they find themselves
cornered.”
Our hero had provided himself with a good club, and now, as the
policemen threw open the door of the cottage and entered, he followed.
“Hi, what’s up?” cried Conroy.
“We arrest you, in the name of the law,” answered one of the bluecoats.
“Betrayed!” roared Captain Naxon. “Betrayed! Whose work is this?”
“It is my work,” answered Larry, striding forward. “Officer, you had
better handcuff them both.”
“I will.”
“Not much!” answered the captain, and made a dash for the doorway. But
he had scarcely taken three steps when Larry brought the club down on
his head, knocking him senseless.
In a few seconds more Conroy was handcuffed. He swore like a pirate and
gnashed his teeth in rage. When the captain recovered, he, too, was
made a close prisoner.
Both prisoners wanted to know what Larry intended to do, but our hero
would give them no satisfaction. He ordered that the documents Conroy
had brought forth be taken to the station house as additional evidence
against the rascals.
Early in the morning Larry left for New York, one of the Perth Amboy
officers going with him.
“Now for Martin Pollox and Check Sluggers,” he said, grimly. “And
then we’ll soon sift father’s affairs and Mary Vern’s affairs to the
bottom.”