IN A TIGHT CORNER
"We are cornered, I fear," said Mr. Blunt as soon as he had fully
realized what was happening, and that the enemy were now following
swiftly, their big river boat under sail, and part of their gang in a
craft which they propelled with oars, "unless we also could hoist a
little canvas. But I fear that that is out of the question, for the
sail is a big one."
Then they went to the mast, to find the yard and sail extremely
heavy, while in the darkness it was almost impossible to find the
hoisting gear. However, the knowledge that something must be done if
they wished to escape spurred them on to make an effort, and after a
little fumbling in the dark they managed to hoist a few feet of the
sail, and even to get some way on the boat.
"Do as they did," sang out Mr. Blunt. "Push her head round, while I
go to the tiller. Once we are under way, stand ready with one of the
poles to push them off if they get too near. One can use the pole
while the other stands over him with his revolver. And remember to
shoot swiftly. The man who can draw trigger first on occasions like
this stands the best chance of coming alive out of the struggle. Ah,
I see them again! I wish this boat would swing a little more
quickly."
There was a note of anxiety in his voice, for the minutes were
passing rapidly, and though their own sail had now been hoisted for
quite two minutes the boat had not yet swung round with her bow down
stream. As for the enemy, the vessel on which they were was already
well under way; but she still had to make up the distance which she
had previously lost, and which had steadily increased as the stream
bore Dudley and his friends along. For a time she had been lost to
view in the darkness, and only the shouts of the rascals on her deck
showed where she was, while the answering calls of the gang in the
small boat, and the splash of their paddles, told that they too were
already dangerously near. Dudley stood in the stern of the boat
listening intently to the splashes and the calls, and then leaving
his comrades for a moment went carefully along the deck on hands and
knees, searching for something with his fingers.
"If that small boat comes alongside she will be more difficult to
deal with than the other," he thought. "Those rascals will hang on
till some are on board, and we shall be kept so busy that we shall
not be able to deal with their friends. I remember a coil of rope
which lay amongst our stores. I fancy it is heavy enough for my
purpose."
The numerous articles which Mr. Blunt had purchased in Buenos Ayres
had been loaded into the hold of the vessel, and some had also been
placed a little forward of the mast. There were many coils of rope
and wire in these stores, and at this moment Dudley thought of them.
He soon reached the spot where he remembered he had seen them placed,
and fumbled in the darkness with his fingers till he lit upon one of
the coils of rope. It was closely wound, and consisted of inch
cable, which was securely lashed into a coil. Standing over it, he
lifted it to his shoulder with an effort and bore it aft, staggering
under the weight. A second or more later he had tumbled it on to the
deck with a bang.
"For the gentlemen in the small boat if they happen to wish to pay us
a visit," he said significantly. "If I can make a good shot with
this coil I think there will be little boat left. Now for the other
vessel. Is she in sight?"
"In sight, and almost within striking distance," answered Harold
promptly, for he had sprung on to the rail of the ship and had been
peering eagerly into the darkness. "She is coming up on our left.
Look there! You can see a big black mass, fifteen feet behind us,
perhaps."
The report was only too true, and before long Dudley himself could
see the bow of the vessel, and even thought he detected a couple of
figures standing there. If he had had any doubt, their sudden calls
to their comrades proved their presence beyond contradiction.
Indeed, two of the gaucho ruffians were standing as far forward as
they could get, and as Dudley watched them they called loudly, their
shouts bringing their comrades running along the deck to join them.
"Within a little way, comrades," said one of the rascals, as he drew
his weapon, "and if this darkness does not make a fool of me I can
see one of the fellows at the tiller. This will soon show if it is a
man or a shadow. I'll wager that I make a hit."
He coolly presented his revolver at the figure of Mr. Blunt, which
could be dimly seen at that distance, and he pulled the trigger
gently. There was a loud report at once, a report which went echoing
down the river, and brought a cheer from the men rowing the smaller
boat. A spout of flame shot from the muzzle, and a ball hissed
across the narrow space, missed Mr. Blunt by the smallest interval,
and, flying on, struck Harold Joyce on the tip of the shoulder,
penetrating the muscle and emerging on the other side. A sharp cry
escaped the lad, which was drowned instantly by the report of
Dudley's weapon, and by a rattling volley which came from the
pursuers, for the flash had lit up the scene and shown the three
figures standing in the stern of the boat which they were following.
However, their bullets flew wide of the mark, while the flash which
had enabled them to fire proved of advantage to Dudley and his
friends also. Dudley had been watching the dim figures aboard the
pursuing boat, and hardly had the report of the first pistol shot
died down when his own weapon cracked sharply, and the man who had
fired dropped like a stone, a bullet having struck him in the very
centre of the forehead.
"Two to us and one to them, I think," said Mr. Blunt cheerily. "That
was a quick shot, Dudley, and will teach them caution perhaps. Now,
my lad, I think you were hit. Not badly I hope."
"It is nothing, sir," came the ready answer, for once he had
recovered from the first shock of the wound Harold Joyce had
determined to make little of it. His old fears were forgotten and to
tell the truth the lad was rather enjoying this brush with his late
companions. There was now no thought of danger, only a feeling of
huge relief, for had he not unburdened himself, and obtained the
forgiveness of his old comrade? And with that feeling of relief was
a curious and altogether novel sense of elation. He felt wonderfully
cool and steady, and seeing that Dudley and Mr. Blunt were precisely
the same, he took heart from that and vowed quietly to himself that
if he came out of this his first engagement alive he would also
emerge from it with credit to himself. And then, to think what joy
it would be to him, to Harold Joyce, to know that he had done well,
to feel that he had acted a man's part, had behaved like a man, he
who till a few minutes before had hardly dared look an honest fellow
in the face. He had not forgotten his old behavior, his despicable
crime, and the cowardice and treachery to a friend which he had
shown. He would never forget that as long as he lived perhaps, for
it would help him to make amends, to live in the future so that no
one could point the finger of scorn at him. Now was his opportunity,
and he seized upon it eagerly.
"Just a little blow on the shoulder, sir," he said easily. "It is
merely a pinprick, and only reminds me that they have revolvers. I
owe them something, and mean to repay it. I'll try a shot."
Up till then he had not drawn trigger, but now he coolly stepped on
to the rail again, peered at the black shape surging up astern, and
then took a snap shot, sending a leaden messenger crashing into the
middle of the group of rascals, and bringing a shout of pain from one
of them. A second later Mr. Blunt had dragged him down under the
rail again.
"Number three!" he said with an exclamation of pleasure. "You are
doing well, Joyce. But you must not be foolhardy. Remember that the
flash of your pistol gives them a chance, for it shows up your
figure. They missed you by the purest chance."
Indeed the flash of his weapon had been the signal for another
rattling volley from the enemy, the bullets singing over the heads of
the trio, and sweeping away into the space beyond. As for the man
who had been struck, he went crawling aft on hands and knees,
groaning as he went.
"Within ten feet I should say," said Dudley suddenly, "and the fellow
who is steering the vessel is sweeping her bow over towards us. It
is nearly time to put out our pole. What are we to do supposing they
grapple with us and get aboard?"
It was a difficult question to decide, and for some few seconds there
was silence while the three peered away astern at the pursuers, who
were steadily coming up, while Mr. Blunt cast an anxious glance
ahead. The boat which he steered was now heading directly down
stream, and had increased her pace. But she was showing only a
little canvas, while the enemy had their sail hoisted to its full
height. That the gang of ruffians would overhaul them was perfectly
clear; within five minutes they would be surging alongside, with
their rail grating against that of the vessel which they were
pursuing.
"It is hard to say what we ought to do," he answered slowly. "They
are sure to come up with us, and equally sure to lash their rail to
ours. They know that we are here, and will come tumbling aboard and
make a rush into the stern. Let us consider how many we shall have
to meet."
"That is soon answered," spoke out Harold boldly. "We have hit
three. Six are left. Just two to one. Why not change our places,
sir? If we crept forward as they came alongside, they would find the
stern vacated when they climbed aboard."
"But they would find us in the end," interrupted Dudley. "Why not
try another trick? We can creep forward, as Harold suggests, and
then get aboard their boat as they board us. A cut with a knife then
would alter matters. We should be able to sail away, and----"
"A pretty plan, and one which we will carry out if we have the
chance," cried Mr. Blunt. "It is quite certain that if we stay here
they will prove too strong for us. We must make the utmost use of
the darkness, and it is agreed therefore that we go forward, conceal
ourselves under the rail, and as soon as they are on board clamber
across to their deck and cut the ropes, for they are sure to lash the
two craft together. I will make my way forward, while you will take
the rope aft, Dudley. That is agreed. Then I think we will take up
our places at once. They are already very near, and I reckon that
within a minute they will be alongside. Slip off one by one. Joyce,
lead the way please, and remember, there must be silence. We slip
aboard, cut the lashings, and make off. I will take the tiller."
It was high time indeed that they should make some arrangement, for,
as Mr. Blunt had said, the enemy were even then within striking
distance. The ruffianly sailor who controlled the vessel on which
the gang were pursuing was a man who knew his business and had
steered a course on many an occasion. More than that, the fellow had
the eyes of a cat, for he seemed to be able to make out the outline
of the boat ahead in spite of the darkness, and indeed, by sitting on
the deck, and getting his head as low as possible, had for some while
been able to discern the mast of the fugitive boat against the stars
above. He knew now that his bow was in a line with the stern of the
other vessel, and with the knowledge that he was overhauling her very
rapidly he moved his tiller just a little and sent his own craft
swirling closer, so that her rail would touch that of the one in
front.
"In a minute, comrades!" he sang out in execrable Portuguese. "I am
running alongside. One of you take a rope forward and lash the rails
as soon as they meet. I will see to the job being done aft here."
A call told him that his comrades understood, and once more the
ruffian put his helm over. The ships touched a moment or two later,
and by then the bow of the pursuer was half-way along the side of the
boat on which Dudley and his friends crouched. A minute later the
boats were sailing on a dead level, and the time had come to lash
them together. The sailor promptly left his tiller, and, snatching a
length of rope which he had placed at his feet, sprang at the rail,
while those who were forward carried out their part of the task as
rapidly as possible. A shout told that they were ready, and within
an instant the sailor had left the stern and had run forward to meet
them.
"We have them at last, the dogs," he shouted. "They were in the
stern. Follow! Cut the lubbers to pieces."
He led the way on to the deck of the other vessel, and close behind
him came his comrades, all revolver in hand, eager to be the first to
shoot down the three who had stood in the stern, and who had shot
their leader and two others of their number. They went rushing along
the deck, the sailor emptying his weapon as he ran, for he took the
gaunt outline of the mast for one of the men he sought.
"Our time to move," whispered Mr. Blunt. "Remember, I go forward,
while Dudley takes the rope aft. I'll be with you in a moment."
As silent as ghosts, and as active as cats, the three slipped over
the rails on to the other vessel, where Mr. Blunt went on hands and
knees and with wonderful agility slid and scrambled along the deck.
As for Dudley, he ran aft, keeping his hand all the while on the
rail, and did not stop till it had struck upon the rope which the
sailor had placed in position. With a slash he severed it, and then
went to the tiller, there to wait for his leader. As for Harold
Joyce, he stood on the deck opposite the point where he had clambered
aboard, and, crouching under the shelter of the rail, waited,
prepared to protect Mr. Blunt with his revolver.
Meanwhile those who had swarmed aboard the boat which they had been
so feverishly following were at a loss to understand what had
happened.
The sailor had quickly discovered that he had made an error in firing
at the mast, and as by then he was within sight of the stern, he came
to a sudden halt, and sheltered his body behind the big mass of
timber.
"Shoot when you see them," he shouted. "They must be lying on the
deck. Give them a volley, comrades."
It was one of the gauchos who made the gang aware of the fact that
the stern was empty. He peered into the darkness for a moment, and
then rushed aft till he came to the rail, his revolver held in
readiness in case his eyes should have deceived him.
"Not here!" he called angrily. "This is where we saw them when the
last shot was fired. They must have gone forward, or have dived into
the cabin. After them! We will riddle them with bullets once we
come upon them. Ah, peste take the man who fired then! Be careful
with your weapons."
He turned savagely upon one of the gang, who, thinking he saw a
figure beside the rail a little for'ard of the stern drew trigger on
it, sending a bullet dangerously near his comrade. Then, joining the
sailor, this gaucho led the way forward, this time at a slower pace,
searching every foot of the deck.
"Empty!" exclaimed the sailor with an oath. "Then they have gone
into the cabin, and we shall have a pretty business to get them out.
What's best to be done?"
He turned on those who followed him, forgetful of the fact that none
knew English. But they seemed to guess at his meaning, for the
gaucho promptly led the way back to the cabin.
"An ugly place to search," he admitted as he made out the outline of
the roof of the saloon which Dudley and Mr. Blunt had occupied, and
came to a halt at the short flight of stairs leading down to it. "A
man does not care to dive into a dark hole like that and be shot down
like a dog. The fellows are skulking behind the door, and will see
us before we can catch sight of them. What's to be done? Coop them
up below and wait till morning seems the best way out of the
difficulty."
"And have a hundred busybodies asking what the noise is about, and
why we are so carefully shooting white men on the river," shouted the
man at his elbow, pushing him aside indignantly. "What has to be
done must be done now. I'm going into the cabin."
As if to let the occupants of the tiny place know that he was coming,
the ruffian emptied four of the cartridges in his revolver into the
door of the cabin, sending the bullets ripping through the wood, and
thudding heavily against the bulkhead beyond. Then, quickly
following his messengers, he leaped to the bottom of the stairway and
burst into the saloon.
"Empty!" he shouted a moment or two later. "Not a soul in here.
Where are the pretty birds?"
Where indeed? The members of the gang raced up and down the deck,
searching vainly for the men they wanted, and never even suspecting
the trick which had been played upon them. It was not till they had
felt in every corner, and come very near to shooting one another in
the confusion caused by their haste and the darkness, that it slowly
dawned upon their minds that the birds had flown. Then they looked
for the ship on which they had taken passage, and which they had
slipped from her moorings not ten minutes before, and were struck
dumb with astonishment to find that she was already some ten feet
from them, and hardly discernible in the darkness. Indeed it is
probable that they would not even now have suspected what had really
happened had it not been for a sudden commotion close at hand. They
had entirely forgotten the noisy comrades who had gone ashore, and
who had since embarked on a small boat. Even Mr. Blunt and his two
stanch young friends had allowed the existence of this other gang to
slip their memory, for their hands were very full. They had carried
out their scheme in absolute silence and with wonderful celerity.
They had severed the ropes, and then with a whispered word to one
another had placed themselves along the rail of the captured vessel,
and, keeping as low as possible, had pushed the two boats apart. Not
till then had Mr. Blunt taken his station at the tiller. He looked
aloft, felt the river vessel cant as the wind filled her sail, and
then pushed at his tiller.
"In a moment we shall have said good-by," he whispered. "Listen to
the rascals! They will be angry when we are gone. Ah! Those other
fellows! They are just beside us."
Both heard the splash of oars, and then the loud calls of the men in
the rowing boat. They had come up with their comrades, as they
thought, and when Dudley looked over the stern rail there they were,
alongside, and getting to their feet so as to climb aboard. He
lifted his revolver and was on the point of firing when Mr. Blunt
arrested the shot.
"Don't shoot," he whispered swiftly. "They do not know what has
happened, and their fellows aboard our boat are also in ignorance.
Get along the deck and find something heavy, like the coil you
prepared before."
A word was enough, and within a second Dudley was running along the
deck, bent double as he went. And fortunate it was for him and his
friends that he was one of those lads who take in his surroundings
somewhat more thoroughly perhaps than do average people. Everything
that was novel interested him, and a ship had always been a
fascinating subject to Dudley. He had made himself acquainted with
every corner and hole of the river boat on which he and his employer
had sailed from Buenos Ayres, as well as that upon which they had
descended the river, and in both cases he had noted the fact that the
vessels carried a spare anchor hooked to the rail in the bow. The
memory of that spare anchor flashed across his mind, and at once he
ran up into the bow, making no attempt to search for another object
on the way. It was there. His fingers gripped the heavy piece of
metal, and with a jerk he hoisted it from the grips which held it in
place. Then he returned at a run, arriving breathless at the stern.
"That should do," said Mr. Blunt. "Take the tiller, and look out for
shots. I'll do my best to teach those employees of mine a little
lesson in honesty. Perhaps in future they will not take service with
a man with the express intention of robbing and murdering him."
He leaned over the rail, the anchor poised over his shoulder, and
glanced down at the men in the boat alongside. They were calling
angrily to one another, for their evening ashore, and the darkness of
the night, had led to no little confusion. Each man wished to be the
first to climb aboard the vessel, while none were directed to cling
to the rail. And in consequence it happened that no sooner did the
majority of them rise to their feet than the boat slipped away from
the side of the one they wished to board, and they were forced to
paddle again to come up with her.
"Keep quiet there!" shouted one of their number. "Hold on there in
the bow, while I get a grip here. Then clamber aboard one by one.
Hi, comrade, throw us a rope!"
He had caught sight of Mr. Blunt's figure, and stood up to catch the
expected rope. But it was a very different missile which descended
at his feet. Mr. Blunt was not the man to muddle an affair like this
by missing his aim. He leaned well over the rail, poised the anchor
above his head, and then threw it down into the boat with all the
force of which he was capable. There was a sickening thump as it
struck one of the rascals, and this was followed instantly by the
crash of splintering woodwork, and then by a babel of sounds, oaths,
threats, and cries of fear. A shot was fired, while one of the more
active of the men, realizing what had happened, made a desperate leap
at the rail, and hung to it for a moment. But it was for only a
brief moment, for again a pistol sounded, the sharp report drowning
the shouts of the men below. The man dropped into the water like a
stone, leaving Mr. Blunt staring down at the place which his figure
had occupied. Then it was the turn of the rascals aboard the other
boat.
"Let them shout," said Mr. Blunt calmly. "They are beaten,
hopelessly beaten, for we have the legs of them now. Keep down,
lads, for it would be sad to be hit now that the affair is almost
over. That is, over for us. For these rascals, I promise you and
them that it is by no means over. I will probe this matter to the
bottom. Whatever it costs I will discover who is the ringleader, the
scoundrel who sits quietly down at Montevideo and incites men to make
an attack upon me, and I will do my utmost to punish these brigands
for their work to-night. Ah, there go the pistols! Shoot till you
are tired, my friends."
A furious volley came from the men aboard the boat which Dudley and
his friends had so recently left, and for a minute the shooting
continued till darkness and the increasing interval between the
vessels had separated the combatants. As for those who had manned
the smaller boat, into which the anchor had been cast, their shouts
were soon drowned by the river. For the heavy piece of iron had
beaten a hole in the bottom of the craft, and in a little while she
had filled to the gunwale. Indeed, while those aboard the ship now
being left behind were emptying their revolvers, their luckless
comrades were struggling for life in the water. More than one of the
wretches sank almost at once, while but two managed to reach the
safety of the bank and scramble ashore. The tables had been turned,
in fact. The rascally attackers, who had been in such great force,
and who had hoped to take advantage of the Englishman, and secure his
money, had been badly beaten. They had lost many from their gang,
and, worse perhaps for those who remained--for such desperadoes think
little of losses,--they had failed in their enterprise.
The cheer which the trio aboard the escaping vessel gave as they
sailed away must have been maddening to the ruffians.
"That will tell them that we are alive and well," said Mr. Blunt.
"Later we will do more to prove the fact. And now that we are under
way, and have some breath to spare, let me say how grateful I am to
this young gentleman. Shake hands, Mr. Joyce! Your gallantry has
saved our lives. Dudley Compton and I are your debtors."
Each in turn took the blushing Harold by the hand and gripped his
fingers warmly. This was his reward for acting the man, and for the
resolution and courage which he had shown in the matter.