A NIGHT OF ANXIETY
“You mean to tell us we’re prisoners?” demanded Jack, his eyes flashing.
“Not exactly prisoners,” returned Captain Gilsen. “There is no use of
getting so sour about it. This whole happening is your own fault――not
ours. We didn’t invite you to come here and spy on our doings.”
“How long do you want us to remain?” questioned Randy.
“That will depend on how you behave. If you take things easy like,
we’ll let you go just as soon as the weather clears. No use of letting
you go now; you might bump into some of the rest of our ships,” and
again the captain of the _Hildegarde_ tugged at his heavy moustache.
“Well, all I’ve got to say is, this is a mighty high-handed
proceeding,” declared Ralph. “However, you’ve got the best of us, and
I suppose we’ve got to submit. Just the same, I want you to understand
that we are protesting against this whole proceeding.”
“Oh, don’t let ’em give you any guff,” put in Bill Ferguson, who had
followed Captain Gilsen to the deck. “They know they’re in wrong just
as well as we do.”
“How long do you expect to remain in this vicinity?” questioned Fred.
“We’re not going to remain at all, now we’ve discharged our cargo,”
answered the captain.
“You mean to say you are going to carry us off?” cried Gif.
“We won’t carry you very far. We’re headed down the coast, so when we
let you go you’ll be able to get ashore easy.”
A bitter war of words followed, all of the boys insisting upon it that
the captain of the _Hildegarde_ had no right to carry them off in this
fashion. Andy and Randy were strongly in favor of fighting for their
rights; but upon seeing this both the captain and Ferguson showed their
pistols.
“You behave yourselves and act like gentlemen, or else somebody is
going to get hurt,” warned the captain. “This is my ship, and I won’t
stand for any nonsense while you’re on board. Now the whole bunch of
you get forward, and don’t let me hear another word out of you until I
let you go.”
Then, as the boys were forced to retreat in the direction of the
forecastle of the schooner, Captain Gilsen called his mate, a fellow
named Letts, and told him to take charge of the newcomers.
“Watch ’em closely,” the captain ordered. “Don’t give ’em a chance to
arm themselves or put up any kind of a job on us.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll attend to it,” answered Letts. He was a short, stocky
individual and anything but prepossessing in appearance. Later, the
boys learned that he had once been a prize-fighter in England.
A short time later, and while the Rover boys and their chums were
wondering what would happen next, orders were given to hoist the sails
and start up the auxiliary engine, and soon the _Hildegarde_ was moving
away through the fog.
“Which way are you heading?” questioned Ralph, of the mate.
“Down the coast,” was the curt reply. “Now don’t ask more questions.
When the call comes for mess, you can have your share with the men. If
you have to stay on board over night, I’ll have them fix you up somehow
in the fo’castle.”
The lads found the forecastle of the _Hildegarde_ anything but a clean
and sweet-smelling place, and so, after a brief survey, they were glad
to come out on deck again and seek such shelter as they could find in
the fresh air. All of the hands on the rum-runner eyed them curiously,
but said little, having evidently been instructed by Letts not to
become communicative.
“Well, we are certainly in a pickle,” announced Jack, dubiously. “I
must confess I can’t see any way out, either.”
“Nor can I,” came from Gif.
“The worst of it is, there is no telling how long they’ll compel us to
remain on board,” broke in Fred.
“Gee! I wish we had our school rifles here,” remarked Randy. “I think
we could soon show this bunch where they get off!”
“I’d like to put up a fight as well as any of you,” said the young
major. “But I’m satisfied we would get the worst of it. You saw how the
captain and Ferguson drew their pistols at the first sign of trouble.”
“Yes, and those rascals would use the pistols, too!” was Spouter’s
comment. “Both of those skunks are about as hard-boiled as they make
’em.”
“Yes, and the mate and the crew are just as vile,” added Fred.
Not having access to the compass on the ship, the boys had no means
of knowing how the craft was headed. The fog was as thick as ever,
and now the horn was kept sounding as the auxiliary engine drove the
_Hildegarde_ forward, the sails doing little to aid the progress of the
craft.
Presently four bells struck, and one of the hands, a tall, lanky fellow
who had been watching the boys furtively, came to them and announced
that the evening mess was ready.
“You ain’t goin’ to git nothin’ like you’d git at that Astoria-Vanderbilt
Hotel in New York,” he announced, his little eyes twinkling
good-naturedly. “They don’t serve no table de hotie bill of fare on this
schooner. You’ve got to have a cast-iron stomach to stand what you git.”
“I don’t think I care to eat,” announced Ralph. “We had a pretty
substantial lunch on the motor boat.”
“The same here,” said Jack.
“Oh, well, we might as well see what they’ve got,” came from Andy,
whose curiosity was aroused. In spite of the peril, the fun-loving
Rover boy enjoyed the novelty of the situation.
“I think I could go any kind of a cup of coffee, as long as it was
hot,” said his twin.
Led by the tall, lanky sailor, whose name they afterward ascertained
was Ira Small, they sat down at one end of the mess table and were
served with a stew of unknown ingredients, some rye bread and black
coffee.
“This is the snake’s toothbrush, and no mistake!” declared Fred, in
disgust. “I wouldn’t feed the pigs such stuff as this.”
The boys sampled the food, drank a little of the coffee, and then left
the table, several of the hands sneering at them and looking anything
but friendly. These hands had bottles of liquor which were passed
around freely. One offered his bottle to Jack, but the young major
shook his head.
“Thank you, I don’t drink,” he said briefly.
“Don’t drink, eh?” sniffed the sailor. “Well, you don’t know what you
miss.”
Slowly the evening wore away and the _Hildegarde_ kept on her course.
The fog was now lifting slowly, and with this came an increase in the
wind, so that the craft made much better speed than before.
Jack had noted that the tall sailor named Ira Small did not associate
much with the other hands. The fellow was a peculiar sort of individual,
given to talking to himself and to rubbing his chin as if trying to
refresh his memory over something.
“That fellow is a character,” whispered the young major to Ralph. “He
doesn’t seem to belong to this bunch at all. I wonder how he got here.”
“Maybe they shanghaied him, just the way they shanghaied us, Jack.”
“Do you think they’re going to keep us on board long, Ralph?”
“I don’t know. I must confess I don’t like the looks of things at all.”
“Randy has an idea that they’ll rob us of everything we’ve got,” said
Spouter, in a low voice.
“Well, they certainly look like a bunch of thieves, or worse,” returned
Jack.
“I made a mistake by letting that fellow Ferguson know that the _Fancy_
is brand new,” said Ralph. “They’ll have their eyes on her, sure! They
know she is worth quite a bunch of money.”
“Yes, and those rum-runners from shore could use such a motor boat very
nicely,” remarked Randy.
“But if they keep the boat, how are we going to get ashore?” questioned
Fred.
“Oh, maybe they’ll put us ashore in a rowboat,” answered Jack. “It
would be just like them to do it. They may leave us with nothing but
our bare clothing, and they may even take our things and give us some
of their old rags.”
Looking at it from every point of view, it was a disheartening
situation. One instant the boys felt like arming themselves as best
they could and making a break for liberty; but the next, caution
prevailed, and they knew that such a move would bring on a fight that
might prove fatal to one or more of them.
When it came two bells in the first night watch Letts told the boys
they could turn in and showed them where they could sleep in some
vacant bunks and on the floor of the forecastle.
“Aren’t you going to let us go ashore?” questioned Ralph.
“Not to-night. Perhaps we’ll be able to let you go in the morning. You
couldn’t do anything, anyhow, in this heavy fog.”
There was no help for it, and so the boys turned in, although none of
them undressed. In some bunks not far away several sailors were already
snoring lustily, so the boys had to keep quiet for fear of raising a
new row.
It was a night long to be remembered. For some time neither Jack nor
any of the others could go to sleep. All were cudgeling their brains to
think of some way by which they might gain their liberty. But nothing
came to their minds that sounded feasible. At last, worn out by their
exertions, one after another dropped off to sleep, Fred being the last
to close his eyes.
It was early morning when Jack got up. The others were still slumbering,
and as there seemed no need to arouse them, he slipped quietly out of
the forecastle to the deck. It was still raining, but the fog was
clearing away rapidly and a strong wind was blowing from the northeast.
All of the sails of the _Hildegarde_ were set, and the auxiliary engine
was silent.
The oldest Rover boy found only three hands on deck, one of whom was at
the wheel. One of the hands proved to be Ira Small, and the tall, lanky
sailor grinned slightly at him as he came up.
“Got a little sleep, I hope?” said Small, blinking his eyes and rubbing
his chin vigorously.
“Oh, I slept fairly well after I once got to sleep,” answered Jack. “I
was worn out――we had put in such a big day.”
Ira Small looked at him questioningly for several seconds and then
looked up and down the deck to make sure that they were not being
observed. Then he leaned forward impressively, his long neck extending
like that of a duck.
“They ain’t got no right to keep you on board this ship, lad. It’s a
blamed shame, that’s what it is! I wish I could help you and your crowd
to git away.”
“Thank you for that,” said Jack, his eyes lighting up. “I’m glad to
know we have one friend on board this vessel.”
“I reckon I made a big mistake when I shipped with Cap’n Gilsen,” went
on the tall sailor, rubbing one ear and then the other vigorously and
then rubbing his chin. “I knew he was in the rum-runnin’ business, but
I thought I could switch him on to somethin’ worth more money.”
“Where does this schooner hail from?”
“From Jamaica, lad. But don’t you let ’em know I told you,” went on Ira
Small, impressively. “They don’t like me none too well as it is, and
they’d like me still less if they knowed that I was tryin’ to help you
fellows.”
“From Jamaica!”
“That’s it. And the ship’s made two trips since I been on board. I
wanted to desert the first time we come up here with licker, but I
didn’t git no chance. You see, when I shipped, as I said afore, I
thought I could int’rest Cap’n Gilsen in somethin’ that would be worth
more to him than this rum-runnin’ business. But he won’t listen to me.
He thinks I’m crazy.” Ira Small shook his head vigorously and then
rubbed his chin once more. “Well, maybe I am. But just the same, some
day I’m goin’ to find them thirteen rocks.”
“You’re going to find what?” questioned Jack, puzzled.
“I’m goin’ to find them thirteen rocks somewheres down in the West
Indies. I’ve got photygraphs of ’em, and I know jest what they look
like.”
“Thirteen rocks!” repeated Jack. “What good would it do you to find
those thirteen rocks?”
“Ha! That’s jest it!” The sailor closed one eye suggestively, glaring
at the young major with the other. “The thirteen rocks is where the
pirates buried their treasure――thousands and thousands of dollars’
worth!”