For a moment there was silence in the cockpit of the _Vagabond_. Nelson
and Bob looked serious, Tom somewhat frightened, and Dan as happy as a
lark. It was Bob who first broke the silence.
"How fast can one of those tugs travel?" he asked. Nelson shook his
head.
"It depends on the tug," he answered. "That one looked pretty small, and
so I guess her engine isn't very powerful. But even so, it's likely she
can give us a mighty good run."
"How's our engine running?" asked Bob.
"Full speed," was the reply. "If it was dark we could lose them easily,
but it won't be dark for an hour and a half yet. Well, we'll give them a
good chase of it, anyway."
"Even if they catch us, what can they do?" scoffed Dan. "I'd just like
to see them try to set foot on this boat!"
"Well, I guess they could do it if they got alongside," answered Nelson
dryly. "I noticed about five men on that tug."
"But they haven't any right to!" protested Tom.
"I don't believe they'd care much about that," said Bob. "So what we've
got to do is to keep away from them. Watch for her at the mouth of the
harbor."
They watched in silence. One minute passed, another; then the tug stuck
her blunt nose around the sandspit and headed after the _Vagabond_. She
was a good half mile astern, but from the way in which she was coming it
seemed to the boys extremely unlikely that she would stay at that
distance very long.
"Gee!" quoth Tom anxiously. "Isn't she humming!"
"She certainly is," answered Bob. "But, then, so are we, for that
matter."
"I'll go down and have a look at the oil cups," said Nelson. "I'd hate
like thunder to have the engine stop at this stage of the game."
"Gu-gu-gee! If it did!" muttered Tom fearfully.
"Keep your courage up, Tommy," laughed Dan. "What you need is something
to eat. So do I, for that matter. But I suppose we can't talk supper
yet, eh?"
"No; let's wait until we see how this thing's coming out," said Bob.
"Where's the runaway, Nelson?"
"He's down here," answered Nelson from below. "I've told him what's up,
and he says he'll go back to his friend if it's going to get us into
trouble."
"To the captain? Get out!"
"Nu-nu-nu-not on your lu-lu-life!" cried Tom.
"That's the stuff, Tommy," said Dan, clapping him on the back. "The old
guard dies, but never surrenders, eh? Now, look; you go down and see if
you can't find something we can nibble on--crackers or bread and
butter--will you?"
"Yes, there's plenty of pilot bread," answered Tom. "Shall I butter
some?"
"No; let's have it _au natural_, Tommy. That's French and means
something, but I don't remember just what. No; pilot bread is better
without butter. Scoot along, now; we may have a desperate battle before
us," with a wink at Bob, "and we must have our bodies fortified.
Whatever that is," he added, as Tom went below.
"I don't see that she's gained any," said Bob presently.
"No," answered Dan. "Lost, if anything."
The welcome news was passed below to Nelson, and he came up to see for
himself.
"That's right," he said. "They've dropped back a little, and I'm mighty
glad of it. The fact is, we aren't getting all our speed. There's
something wrong somewhere, and I guess it's the gasoline. It was
probably pretty poor stuff; full of water, I dare say."
"But there's no fear of the engine stopping, is there?" asked Bob.
Nelson shook his head.
"Not likely; but she's missing a spark now and then, and she may do
worse than that. I don't believe we're doing better than ten and a half
miles."
"Well, if we can beat her at that," said Dan, "what's the use of
worrying?"
Tom came up with a dish of pilot bread and a jar of marmalade, and there
was an impromptu feast in the cockpit.
"How about the kid down there?" asked Dan. "Maybe he's hungry, too."
"That's so," exclaimed Nelson. "I'll take some of this truck down to
him." When he returned he said: "Glad you thought of it, Dan; the poor
duffer's putting that pilot bread away as though he hadn't seen a square
meal in an age."
"Maybe he hasn't," said Bob. "I don't believe the grub's very good at
the captain's table."
"Much the fellow down there would know about the captain's table,"
scoffed Dan. "He probably ate in the forecastle."
"Not if he was cabin boy," returned Bob. "Cabin boys eat at the
officers' mess."
"Who said he was cabin boy?" asked Dan. "I'll bet he was just a--a sort
of apprentice. Why can't we have him up here and hear what the row is?"
"They might see him from the tug," said Tom, glancing uneasily toward
that boat.
"What if they do? They know he's here, anyhow. Call him up, Nelson."
And in a moment he appeared at the steps, glanced about him anxiously
and diffidently, and stood as though awaiting further instructions. He
was a small boy, but he looked hard and healthy. His rather thin face
was bronzed by the wind, and the skin on the end of his funny little
upturned nose was peeling off, perhaps from the same cause. He didn't
look overly clean, but he had rather nice, honest brown eyes and a
serious mouth, at one corner of which, just at present, a flake of pilot
bread was adhering. He was dressed in a pair of brown trousers, which
were neither long nor short but which left off a good three inches above
his shoes, a blue-and-white-striped cotton shirt, guiltless of collar or
tie, and a jacket, very much too large for him, of a color once blue and
now a queer brownish purple. His hands were broad, and brown and
scarred--not at all pretty to look at--with broken and blackened nails. On
his touseled brown hair he wore a dirty canvas cap. As the Four observed
him for a moment in silence, he took off his cap, awkwardly and
hesitatingly, and clutched it in his hands.
"What's your name?" asked Bob kindly.
"Spencer Floyd," was the answer in a husky voice that seemed years too
old for him.
"Well, Spencer, supposing you sit down there and tell us what the
trouble is," Bob suggested. "Your friend the captain's after us in the
tug back there, but I don't believe he'll catch us. What's the trouble
between the captain and you? Let's hear about it."
The boy climbed up so that he could see the pursuing tug. He watched it
for a moment silently. Then he sat down obediently on the top step and
looked at his cap. Evidently he needed prompting.
"Wasn't the captain good to you?" asked Dan. Spencer shook his head
slowly.
"He beat me," he muttered finally.
"Beat you, did he? What for?"
"'Cause I wanted to go home."
"Where do you live?" asked Nelson, taking up the role of examiner.
"Mullen's Cove."
"Where's that?"
"Long Island."
"Oh, Long Island, eh? Folks living?"
"My mother is," answered the runaway. "My father died three years ago.
He was first mate on the _Independence_."
"Fisherman?"
"Yes, sir; seiner. She was wrecked on the Banks."
"Oh!" said Nelson sympathetically. "That was bad, wasn't it?"
"Yes, sir. He didn't leave much money, but we own our house, and ma she
raises vegetables and sells milk."
"I see. And where does the captain come in? By the way, what's his
name?"
"Captain Sauder."
"Not soft solder, I'll bet," murmured Dan.
"Is he a relative of yours?" Nelson asked.
"No, he ain't," was the decided reply. "But he and my father used to be
together on some boat once. And he used to come and see us sometimes.
And when father died, he offered to take me and learn me to be a sailor.
So ma, she let me go for a year."
"Did you like it?"
"No, sir."
"But you stuck it out?"
"Yes, sir."
"And then what?"
"When my time was up with him I told him I was going to leave and go
home. But he said I couldn't. Said I'd signed articles for two years,
and if I tried to get away he'd flog me."
"Did you try?"
"Yes, sir, about three weeks ago. But he caught me."
"Did he flog you?"
The boy shivered and nodded.
"Bu-bu-brute!" growled Tom.
"And you say you never signed anything?"
"No, sir, I never did. And I ain't heard from my mother for most a year,
and--and--" He stopped and sniffed, the tears welling into his eyes.
"That's too bad!" said Nelson. "But don't you worry. We'll get you
ashore somewhere, and you can get home."
"I guess he'll catch me," said the boy hopelessly.
"Oh, no, he won't! Got any money?"
"Yes, sir."
"How much?" Spencer observed his questioner suspiciously for a second.
But Nelson's face showed only kindness and sympathy, and the boy's eyes
dropped.
"'Most two dollars," he answered.
"Well, that's not a great deal, is it? Did you get paid on the ship?"
"Fifty cents a month."
"Gee!" exclaimed Dan. "Isn't he the reckless captain!"
"Well," said Nelson, "I don't pretend to know what the law is in such
cases, but I'm for getting Spencer back to his home. Maybe we'll get in
trouble about it, though. What do you fellows say?"
"Trouble be blowed!" said Dan. "If he hasn't got the law on his side, he
ought to have."
"That's so," said Bob. "We'll help him along. How about it, Tommy?"
"If we du-du-du-don't we deserve tu-tu-to be ki-ki-ki-ki----"
"You're missing sparks, Tommy," warned Nelson.
"Water in his gasoline," said Dan, with a grin.
"----to be kicked!" ended Tom explosively and earnestly.
"And so we do," agreed Nelson. "How's the enemy coming on?"
"Just about holding her own, I'd say," was Bob's verdict. "What are your
plans, Nel?"
"Make for Provincetown, over there. We ought to reach it a little after
dark at this rate."
"Then what?"
"Put the boy ashore, give him a few dollars, and trust to him to keep
out of the way."
"But look here, Nel. If we land him at Provincetown, he'll have to come
back all around the Cape. That'll take him an age."
"There's the railroad. Why can't he take a train?"
"Suppose he does? All Captain Chowder, or whatever his name is, will
have to do is to go down the Cape and head him off."
"That's so," answered Nelson thoughtfully. "But it seems to me he ought
to be able to hide out for awhile. The captain can't afford to spend
much time chasing him. What do you say, Spencer? Do you think that if we
put you ashore at Provincetown, you could keep out of the captain's
way?"
Spencer shook his head.
"He'd get me," he muttered. "He'd say I had deserted, and then they'd be
looking out for me along the road."
"He's right," said Dan. "That's just what would happen. They'd probably
telegraph along the railroad, and he'd be yanked back to the _Henry
Nellis_ quick-time. That won't do. We've got to think of some other
scheme."
"I wish I'd started up the coast," said Nelson regretfully. "We might
have made Plymouth easily, and if we'd got him ashore there he'd have
had the whole State to hide in."
"Do you suppose the captain will come after him if he gets home?" asked
Dan.
"How about that, Spencer?" Nelson questioned. "Do you think the captain
would take you away again?"
"No, sir," answered the boy, with a decisive shake of his head. "Ma
wouldn't let him after I'd told her about his beating me."
"Well, then," said Nelson, "what we've got to do is to get you home.
Let's see that chart of the Long-Island coast, Dan. It's down there in
the locker."
The chart was produced and spread out on Nelson's knees.
"Now, let's see. Where's Mullen's Cove situated, Spencer?"
"It's near Mattituck, sir."
"Mattituck, Mattituck," murmured Nelson. "That has a familiar sound. Let
me see, now, where--Oh, here it is! And here's Mullen's Cove, too."
"May I look at it, sir?" asked Spencer eagerly.
"Yes; come here. Here it is, see?"
The boy leaned over Nelson's shoulder and looked for a long while
without saying anything. Then, with a sigh----
"Yes, that's it," he said. "That's where I live--right there." He placed
a blackened finger on the chart. "It--it's almost like seeing home, ain't
it?" he asked shyly. Nelson didn't answer, but he folded the chart up in
a determined manner and tossed it to Dan.
"You stay right here with us, Spencer," he said, "and we'll put you
ashore at Mullen's Cove, if it takes a week to do it. Now I'm going to
look at the engine."
A moment later he was up again and looking anxiously back across the
water. The sun was sinking, and the long, level rays were tipping the
little waves with gold. In the hollows purple shadows were floating.
Back of them, perhaps a little more than a half mile, the tugboat was
following doggedly in their wake. Nelson glanced at Bob and their eyes
met.
"She's missing like anything," muttered Nelson ruefully. "It's that
blamed gasoline we bought this afternoon; seems like it was half water.
I've done everything I know how, but it doesn't make any difference.
She's missing about a third of her explosions. I wish to goodness it
would get dark!"
"It will be in about half an hour," answered Bob hopefully.
"I know, but--" He stopped, staring at Bob. The engine had ceased
working! But in another instant it had started again. With a frown,
Nelson went below. Bob glanced back at the tug. Already it seemed to
have gained on them. Dan and Tom were talking to Spencer, and had not
noticed anything. The _Vagabond_ had covered some fourteen miles of the
twenty that lay between Sanstable and Provincetown, and now the "toe of
the boot," as the tip end of Cape Cod has been fancifully called, lay
before them well defined in the last flare of sunlight. Directly to the
east the curving coast was perhaps a mile nearer to them than was the
harbor of Provincetown, but to alter their course would be giving an
advantage to the pursuers, since it would enable them to cut across, and
perhaps head off, the _Vagabond_ before port was reached. Bob studied
the chart before him and saw that, even if they turned eastward, they
would have difficulty in finding a harbor. If the engine would hold out,
their best plan was undoubtedly to keep on around the Cape. It was
doubtful if those on the tug would care to keep up the chase when they
saw that the _Vagabond_ was not putting in at Provincetown; or, if
darkness came before they reached the end of the Cape, they could head
northwest and perhaps throw the tugboat off the track. But it all
depended on the engine. Bob leaned down so that his head was inside the
hatchway and listened. The sound that reached him was not reassuring.
The engine was missing spark after spark, sometimes stopping for seconds
at a time. He raised his head and again looked back over the darkening
water. There was no longer a half mile between the launch and the tug,
nor anything like it. Unless something happened, very soon the chase was
as good as over!
And something did happen, and almost instantly, but not what Bob would
have chosen. The engine stopped altogether! Nor, although Bob listened
and waited with anxious ears, did it start up again. Dan and Tom and
Spencer looked at Bob and one another with inquiring eyes. The moments
passed. The _Vagabond_ slowly lost headway. Then Nelson's face appeared
at the engine-room door.
"It's all up, I guess," he said quietly. "I'll have to take the
vaporizer apart, and that will take some time. And even then I'm not
sure that she'll work. Where's the tug?"
"About a quarter of a mile away, and coming like thunder!" answered Dan.
"Well, I'll be as quick as I can," said Nelson sadly, "but I guess our
goose is cooked!"
He disappeared again, and in the silence that ensued those above could
hear the sound of the wrench as it fell to work. Back of them, coming
nearer at every turn of her propeller, raced the tugboat.
The _Vagabond_ rolled lazily in the little waves.
Dan began to whistle cheerfully.