“The boss is all right,” was Pierce’s prompt response, as he began to
manufacture his cigaret. “Yes, sir, he’s all right, but he ain’t
letting Brack know it. He’s a reg’lar guy, the boss is, after all.”
“Of course,” I said. “But begin at the beginning.”
“All right.”
He blew a puff of smoke toward the opening of the cave, fanned it away
from Betty, and began:
“The first thing that happened after you and the boss went up the bay,
Mr. Pitt, was for little Freddy to slip into the water and go after
his rifle, here. I did a dive when Riordan was taking a lunch, got up
here, got the gun and got back on board before he knew I’d been gone.
I hid the gun in the oil locker, back of the tanks where nobody could
see it. I got through just in time, too, ’cause pretty soon Riordan
comes on deck and orders me down to start the auxiliary engine, while
he and the nigger gets up the anchor.
“I start her all right, but I says to myself if Riordan turns her nose
out to sea I’ll get my gun and start a little mutiny all by my
lonesome. Well, he don’t do nothing of the sort; just starts right up
the bay, running on the auxiliary. I think that’s all right, because
of course I knew it was the cap’s orders, and we was going up the same
way you went. Then after awhile we anchored, and then I knew it wasn’t
all right, because I tried the engine-room door and Riordan had me
locked in tight.
“The cap let me out himself in the morning, because Doc’ Olson had
told him he wanted me to help him with the boss and the two guys that
was shot.”
“Shot!” cried Betty. “Who was shot?”
“The two seamen that Dr. Olson said were hurt,” I said hurriedly.
“Never mind now. Go on, Freddy.”
“The doc’ just got me out to get a chance to slip me the news about
you and where you’d gone; but there wasn’t any chance for a getaway
’cause Brack was there, and Garvin was on guard all the time with his
gun. Doc sent me running first to the boss and then to Wilson and the
two other guys with dope and drinks, and so on, and pretty soon the
boss got his noodle working and starts framing things.”
“Chanler began to think out a plan,” I translated to Betty.
“Eh-yah,” continued Freddy unabashed. “It was the boss that framed it
all up. He’s a reg’lar guy. ‘Tell Wilson to pretend to be worse,’ says
he. ‘I’ll do the same.’ Wilson was fit to get up, but the boss says,
no; he and Wilson were to be like they was helpless. Then the boss
says to Brack he’d give him any sum he’d name if he’d sail out of
there and take him home.”
“What?” said Betty. “George wanted to leave us?”
“Naw! You don’t understand. Naw, I should say not he didn’t want to
leave anybody. I told you he was a reg’lar guy. And there with the
brains, too. He was just playing up to Brack. But cappy says he
couldn’t think of leaving without—well, you know; he’s a pretty wicked
guy.”
“I understand,” said Betty quietly. “Well?”
“So the boss pretended to have a fit, and did a lot of fancy stalling.
You see now, don’t you: the boss is putting cappy off his guard and
laying for a chance to jump the bunch and get control of the yacht.”
“But, great heavens!” I expostulated. “They’ve no arms, and they’re
outnumbered.”
“Well, they ain’t outnumbered so bad,” said Pierce. “There’s the boss,
and Wilson, and Doc Olson, and Simmons, and the big nigger. Oh, yes;
we got the nigger with us. I know he wanted to get Garvin, and felt
him out. He’s only waiting to be turned loose.”
“It’s impossible,” said I. “Brack and his men are armed to the teeth.”
“That’s the trouble. If we’d had a gun apiece there’d been something
doing this morning while the cap was away. But the cap’s cleaned the
boat of guns and got ’em in his possession, ’cept one Doc’ Olson
copped off one of the men who was shot. So Wilson told me what to do,
and I sneaked an iron bar into his room and two into the boss’s, one
for him and one for Simmons, and the nigger’s got a knife down one
pants leg and a club down the other. When the chance comes they’re
going to try to put cappy out of business while the nigger gets
Garvin. The rest of ’em don’t amount to much. The trouble is the
chance don’t come.
“The boss was worried about you last night. He said we’d have to try
to get some grub to you since we didn’t have a chance to get the
yacht. The last thing he says to me last night was, ‘Remember, we’ve
got to get some grub to ’em tomorrow no matter what happens to us.’
“Well, when the cap went away this morning after he heard that shot,
he set Barry to watching the boss and Simmons, and Doc’ all in the
boss’s room. Garvin was set to doing a watch aft, and Riordan was set
to pacing the deck to watch everything in general. The two guys who
was hurt had guns, too. I knew Barry’d get the boss if we tried to
start anything, so I just put on Wilson’s sweater and stuffed it full
of food, and got my gun and waited for a chance to get away without
being seen. But there was Garvin aft, near the shore I wanted to make,
and Riordan doing the rounds. But I remembered what the boss’d said
about getting you grub, and when Riordan was forward I took a chance.
“Garvin turned around just as I was getting ready to clout him and he
got the butt right in the temple. Then I did a dive, and if I’d had
ten feet farther to swim it would have been a ‘good-by Freddy,’
because the grub and rifle was pretty heavy, and Riordan took one shot
at me just as I made the brush. Then I hiked it and swam the river,
and I was hiding when you stood up and swore at cappy.”
“Did you swear?” demanded Betty, turning to me. “Did you really swear
at him? Oh, I’m so glad; I was afraid you never did it.”
“And don’t you worry,” concluded Freddy, “the boss is all there and
wide awake, and there ain’t going to be any fall-down: when the chance
comes he’ll put the trick over and we’ll be out of the woods. He’s
just living for that now.”