they had laid up with cartridge-cases taken from the brig _Bulldog_,
wrecked on the Great Bahama Bank, and they were hurrying to the nearest
American port to discharge them to some dealer, and realize what
profits they could. The ammunition was perfectly good and sound, in
spite of being submerged under the sea for a long time, for the cases
had been put up for tropical weather and made perfectly water-proof.
They had several thousand dollars' worth aboard, and it would only be
necessary to prove their fitness for use to realize upon them. To Miami
they laid their course without delay, to get in touch with the express
and railroad.
"Seems like we got to git thar to-night, sure," said the mate, sucking
at his pipe.
"Looks like we'll make it easily," assented Smart. "I suppose you know
the reef well enough to go in any time, hey?"
"Jest as well at night as daytime," said the mate.
"And when we get in--what then? Do you know any one who'll deal with
us? Do you know who'll buy ammunition from you even at a twenty per
cent discount?" asked Smart.
"I reckon we won't have to burn any of them ca'tridges, cap; not by a
blamed sight. We might have to wait a spell fo' suah, but we kin sell
'em, all right."
"Got enough money to live on while we wait, hey?" asked Smart.
Bahama Bill scowled. Then he gave the captain a queer look.
"See here, cap," he said. "Yo' know Bull Sanders is skipper an'
half-owner of this here sloop? Well, he's on a tear up the beach.
If he comes back broke he'll want toe borrow off'n me--see? Well, I
knows what that means. I jest naturally sent all the money abo'd to my
Jule--yo' ain't married, cap, or you'd know what a wife means. 'Scrappy
Jule' kin take keer of all de money I gets, an' yo' needn't make no
moan toe dat. Jule is all right, an' if yo' got a right good memory,
yo' suah remember she don't do no washin' fo' po' white folks."
"I suppose that means that the ten-spot I saved from the fracas in
Journegan's barroom is all the cash aboard, then," said Smart.
He was thinking how strange it was for him to be associating with a
self-confessed wrecker of the old school, the type which waited not for
the elements, but made events happen with a rapidity which put even a
stormy season to shame.
He would have liked to get away from the whole business, get away
from men of Bahama Bill's class, but he could not help thinking that
the giant black man had some cause, according to his way of looking at
things, to do as he had done.
The yacht owner had insulted him, had made it an open question of
hostility between them, and the wrecker had simply gone ahead and
regarded the owner's feeling not at all, but caused by indirect means
the loss of his vessel.
Bill had many good points. He had helped Smart out of a difficult
situation in Key West, where the land-sharks had set out to trim him
clean. He had put him in the way, almost in spite of himself, of making
a few thousand dollars within a week or two, and had saved his life by
diving into a dangerous wreck after him when caught in her shifting
cargo.
Smart was in a strange position, almost dead broke, with several
thousand dollars' worth of salvage due him from his efforts. He would
be tied up with the sloop for several weeks, perhaps several months,
until the sales were made and the salvage divided. To leave her would
risk losing the share due him, for Bahama Bill would hardly stand for
desertion until the affair was settled, no matter what the provocation.
They beat in over the reef, up the crooked, shallow channel into
Biscayne Bay, and laid their course for the docks at Miami, where they
arrived during daylight.
Two days were spent trying to make the sales of the cargo, but the
dealers insisted on testing the powder from each and every case before
paying, or taking it on, so there was a delay of at least two weeks
staring them in the face. The crew having enough to eat minded the
waiting not the least. The mate cared nothing as long as the ultimate
end was in sight, for he had enough hog and hominy aboard to last twice
as long.
The sloop lay off the docks in a scant seven feet of water, her keel
just grazing the coral bottom, which was as plainly visible beneath
her as though she were surrounded by clear air instead of the clearer
water of the bay. The huge, fashionable hotel loomed high against the
background of palms and cocoanuts, making an impressive sight, and also
a comfortable abode for the rich tourists who filled it during this end
of the season. Prices were high, and Smart spent much time watching the
idle rich wandering about the beautiful gardens.
Several gambling-joints were in full blast, for it was always the
policy of the eminent Florida philanthropist who owned the tourist
accommodations on the east coast to build a church upon one side of his
dominions, and then a gambling-hell upon the other. Both were necessary
to draw the lazy rich.
Smart noticed several of the sporting gentry wandering about, but,
having nothing to gamble with, he was forced to look on with little
interest.
On the third day of their stay in harbour, a man sauntered down to
the dock close aboard, and stood gazing at the _Sea-Horse_. He was
perfectly dressed in the height of fashion, and he swung a light cane
lazily while he gazed at the wrecker. He wore a thin moustache, and
his high, straight nose seemed to hook over it to an abnormal extent.
His eyes were a very light blue, so pale that they appeared to be
colourless, but he had an altogether well-fed, well-satisfied look;
one of seeming benevolence and kindliness, which attracted Smart's
attention. Smart and the mate of the _Sea-Horse_ were sitting upon the
cabin-house in the shade of a drying trysail, and the stranger spoke to
them.
"Sloop for charter?" he asked abruptly, in a high voice, which carried
over the short distance of water with some force.
"What fo'?" asked Bahama Bill, without moving.
"Oh, we want to fish and shoot. I don't care for the yachts for hire;
their owners don't seem to know where to go to get sport. I'd rather
charter from a man who knows something of the reef to the southward,
and you look as if you belong around here."
"Yo' sho' got a bad guesser in yo' haid, Mister Yankee," said the mate.
"What make yo' think we belongs around here?"
Smart studied the man carefully while he was talking. He was a close
observer, but he failed to place this suave, well-groomed gentleman in
his vocation. He might be a gambler, a sport, or just a rich fellow
wanting amusement. The latter seemed most likely, so Smart spoke
up, hoping to land a few dollars while waiting for his share of the
salvage.
"We'll charter for thirty dollars a day," he said reluctantly, and, as
he did so, the black mate gave a grunt and grinned insultingly at the
shore.
"Will you go anywhere we want?" asked the man.
"Sho' we will dat, perfesser," broke in Bahama Bill, unable to restrain
himself at the thought of the graft. The idea of thirty dollars per day
was good, and he slapped Smart a terrific blow upon the back in high
good nature at the thought of it. "Sho', perfesser, we'll carry yo' toe
hell--an' half-way back, fer thirty a day. Are yo' on?"
There was a slight sneer on the man's face when he heard the mate's
manner, but he answered quietly, in the same far-reaching voice, that
he would consider the vessel his, and that if one of them would come
ashore for the money, he would bind the bargain by pay for the first
day at once.
At the instant he stopped speaking Heldron the Dutchman came aft to
where the mate sat. Bahama Bill at once seized him about the waist and
hove him far out over the side.
"Git that money, yo' beggar," he laughed, as the sailor landed in the
water with a tremendous splash. Sam, the Conch, snickered. "Yo' go
after him, toe see he comes back," said Bill, and, making a pass at the
man, sent him over also. They swam the distance in a few moments, much
to the amusement of the gentleman on the wharf, who seemed to like the
mate's energetic manner of doing things. The money was paid, and the
men swam back aboard, climbing into the small boat towing astern, and
coming over the taffrail none the worse in temper. There was good money
for all in the deal, and they were pleased.
II
In about an hour the man returned with a friend, both of them loaded
with fishing-rods and other parts of a gentleman's sporting outfit.
They were rowed aboard by the mate, and announced that they were ready
at once to get to sea. The mainsail was hoisted, and in a few minutes
the wrecking-sloop was ready to stand down the channel.
Just at this moment the gentlemen, who had been arranging their
fishing-rods and clothes upon the transoms in the cabin, came on deck
and said that they had forgotten to bring any provisions for the
cruise. The second man declared he had ordered a large box sent aboard,
and asked with some anxiety if it had arrived.
"There ain't nothing come abo'd sence yo' left," said Bill surlily,
annoyed at the delay. "We's got good grub abo'd here, an' enough fer a
week."
"You will pardon me, my good fellow," said the second man, who was
very tall and thin, with a lined face. "You know, or should know, I'm
an invalid, and cannot eat the ordinary food which I love so well. It
is for this that we have taken the boat. Won't you allow me the use of
your crew to help carry the provisions aboard? We expect to be out for
several weeks, and must have plenty of the kind of food I am forced to
eat."
"Yo' don't look so very puny," said Bill; "but, o' co'se, if youse an
invalid, yo' sho'ly wants toe git some soft feed. We eats hoag an'
hominy abo'd here, an' I tells yo' it's mighty good hoag; costs me
seven cents a pound."
The small boat was called away, and, with Sam and Heldron to help carry
the provisions, the two gentlemen went ashore again.
Half an hour passed, and Bill was getting surly. The tide was
falling, and the chances of hitting the reef were good. The wind
dropped, and the surface of the bay was just ruffled by it. Far away
to the southward the little hump of Soldier Key stood out above the
surrounding reef, and the tall palms of Florida Cape seemed to be
motionless.
"What the name o' sin d'ye think dem folks is doin'?" said Bahama Bill
finally, rising from the quarter and gazing toward the shore. "I sho'
likes toe make money easy, but when I gits de sail on dis hear ship, I
likes toe see her go. Gittin' hot, an' de wind's dropped. I hate to run
that channel on a fallin' tide without wind enough to drive her good
an' strong over dem shoal places. Hello! what's dat?"
Smart looked up, and followed the direction of the man's gaze. A wagon
was tearing down the street at a breakneck pace, and upon it were the
two gentlemen who had chartered the sloop. Sam and Heldron sprang up
from the dock to meet them as the vehicle drew up, and with a great
show of haste all four men were struggling with a small but apparently
very heavy box.
In a few moments, in spite of its weight, it was being lowered into the
small boat, and Smart noticed that when all hands sprang in, she was
nearly gunwale down with the cargo. The men rowed as though urged to
their utmost, and in a few minutes the boat was alongside.
"Didn't want to keep you waiting," cried the tall, thin-faced man.
"No," said the man who had chartered the sloop, "we knew you would hate
to be delayed, so we hurried." His benevolent expression beamed up at
the mate, but Smart noted that every now and then his pale eyes shifted
uneasily toward the dock, where the wagon was still standing unattended.
A line was cast over the side, and Bill took hold to hoist the box on
deck. He gave a tug, and then stopped suddenly.
"What in thunder yo' got toe eat in dere?" he growled. "Dat's lead,
sho' 'nuff lead, an' no mistake. We got sinkers enough abo'd here fer
all de fishin' yo'll do dis spring. Sam! Heldron, yo' Dutchman! Cap'n,
come, all hands git a hold an' h'ist away. Man, I nigh broke my pore
ole back wid de heft ob dat box."
They all tailed on to the line, and hoisted the box on deck.
"Get it below," said the man with the moustache and pale eyes; "we'll
give you a hand."
In a few minutes the weighty box, which appeared to be of wood, was
landed safely below in the cabin. The gentleman opened a small bottle
of liquor, and offered a drink all around. It passed until Bahama Bill
came to it, and he silently uptilted the bottle and drained it to the
last drop, flinging it up the companionway and overboard.
"Good!" cried the gentlemen together. "Now for the open sea. Let's try
to find out how quick we can get from here to the end of the reef."
And suiting the action to the words, they sprang up the companionway,
followed by the mate, who was now in a better frame of mind.
"Git de hook off'n de groun'," bawled Bill. "H'ist de jib." And he
hauled flat the mainsheet, and rolled the wheel over as the short cable
came in and the anchor broke clear.
Smart hoisted the head-sails, and they filled away for the open sea.
Smart sat aft upon the taffrail, and the two guests settled themselves
upon boxes which Sam brought out in place of chairs. Bill held the
wheel, heading the _Sea-Horse_ down the narrow channel. She moved
slowly in the light air, and the thin-faced man stretched out his long
frame and looked her over critically.
"Seems like she isn't very fast," he remarked to his pale-eyed
companion.
Bahama Bill looked at him a moment, but said nothing.
"Pretty dirty sort of ship, hey?" said the thin fellow again, in a low
tone.
The mate was about to make some reply, but Smart nudged him, and he
relaxed into a scowl.
"Aw, well, I reckon we'll make it all right," said the pale-eyed man,
his face beaming satisfaction and his high nose sniffing the salt air.
"With a decent boat, yes," said the other, "but this one's mighty
rough. I never saw a more poorly rigged affair. Seems like she's rigged
from the wrecks of other vessels. Don't look like she'll make six
knots."
Bahama Bill grunted, but Smart nudged him again, and he said nothing.
The yacht captain knew that gentlemen would not stand for rough talk
from men of Bahama Bill's type, and he did not want to lose the
charter. It meant plenty of money and comfortable living until he could
get his salvage.
"Let them talk--don't butt in--say nothing," he admonished Bill, in a
whisper.
The big mate heard, but seemed resentful. "What dey want toe knock my
ship fo'?" growled the giant. "Ain't she a good sloop? Ain't she done
her work all right every time? She's paid me good money, me an' Bull
Sanders--no, I don't like no knockin' goin' on abo'd here."
"Cut it out, keep quiet--we get the money if you do," said Smart. "What
good will it do you to get them angry, so they won't want to charter us
again? Man! it's good money, thirty dollars a day--let it go at that."
The pale-eyed man looked at the mate. "It's about dinner-time, isn't
it?" he asked. "We're mighty hungry, and if you can let the cook get to
work, we'll be ready."
"Where's the soft grub fo' dat invalid?" growled Bahama Bill. "I
thought he couldn't eat hoag an' hominy--Heldron, yo' Dutchman, git the
fire started an' let the perfessers eat as soon as yo' kin."
They were well down the channel now, but Smart, on looking back, saw a
small schooner making sail hastily. She started off, heading in their
wake, and about a mile astern.
The passenger with the pale eyes watched her sharply for some moments,
and the benevolent expression faded from his face. The thin man, the
invalid, started up and gazed at her, but was pulled down again by his
companion.
"That fellow astern," said the charterer, his high nose sniffing
sneeringly at the schooner, "thinks he has a smart vessel, and bet us
this morning that he could beat this old sloop to the Fowey Rocks.
Don't let him come up on us whatever you do. I'll give you ten dollars
extra to-day if you run him out of sight before dark."
"Looks like a smart vessel," said Bahama Bill, gazing aft. "I ain't
much at racing, but give this sloop a good breeze, an' maybe you'll
land yo' money."
The passengers ate their meal, and to the credit of the invalid be it
said that he ate more of the "hoag" than his companion. He also put
away an immense portion of the hominy, and his thin face seemed less
wrinkled when he appeared on deck to take a look at the schooner.
Smart watched the following vessel, and saw that she was gaining. The
expression of the pale-eyed man was even more sinister than before, and
the quiet, urbane look gave way to one of ferocity. The high, thin nose
seemed like the beak of some bird of prey, and the moustache bristled
with anxiety and apparent vexation. The thin-faced invalid's expression
was also one of evident concern, the lines of his face drawing tighter
as the distance lessened between the two ships.
"Who's that fellow that looks like the marshal abo'd the schooner?"
asked the mate.
"Oh, that's a friend of mine. He dresses up like that when he goes
hunting or fishing. He used to be in the army, and he likes to wear the
clothes like a uniform," said the thin-faced man.
"Speaking of the army," said the pale-eyed one, "that puts me in mind
of that little Colt automatic-gun I have. They use them now in the
service, and say they carry like a rifle. I believe I'll take a pop at
Charlie just to scare him, hey? It won't hurt him at this distance,
anyway."
"By all means," laughed the thin-faced man, "take a try at him. It'll
scare him to death, I bet you."
Bahama Bill eyed the men curiously, but as it appeared to be none of
his business whether they indulged in rough play, he said nothing.
Smart was too engrossed to notice that the pale-eyed man had drawn
a large automatic pistol, and was resting it upon the rail, until
he had pulled the trigger. The sharp, whiplike report without any
smoke startled him. The shrill whine of the projectile whistled over
the water, and the man who stood upon the schooner's deck quickly
disappeared. In a few moments the "cheep" of a rifle-bullet cut the
air, and "spanged" with a thud into the mainmast, followed by a faint
crack sounding over the sea.
The pale-eyed man fired six shots in answer now, and they came so
quickly that there was hardly a second between the reports.
"What yo' doin', havin' a gun fight?" roared Bill. "What yo' mean by
shootin' a fellow up what ain't doin' nothin' but sailin' after yo'?
What's de lay? Sing out."
The pale-eyed man turned his gaze upon the giant mate, and, as he did
so, he shoved another clip of cartridges into his weapon.
"Don't get excited," he said calmly. "My friend here is an iconoclast,
a knocker. He objects to the simplicity of your ship, to her rigging,
to her going qualities. He objected to the perfection of that schooner,
also. He speaks out, and consequently gets into trouble. Now it's for
you to show him that he's right; that, after all, racing is a game
between men, not between ships, I'll make it fifty dollars if you keep
that schooner just where she belongs."
"I'll run her out of sight befo' night, if de wind comes--hit looks
like it's coming now, by the shake outside the reef--but dat's de
United States marshal youse fired on, perfesser. I knows him of old,
an' I got no use fer him. But watcher got in de box? Speak up, or I
throws her into the wind."
"If you so much as alter the course of this sloop one point," said the
thin-faced man quietly, from a place to leeward, where he had gone
unobserved, "I'll fill you so full of lead that you'll make a hole in
the bottom where you'll strike. Head her out over the reef, and then
due east, until further orders."
While he spoke he rested a long-barrelled six-shooter of the heaviest
pattern in the hollow of his arm, with its muzzle pointing directly at
the heart of the giant mate. The man with the pale eyes sat upon the
taffrail with his Colt automatic in readiness, and looked Smart and the
two men over without a word. Speech was unnecessary. The iconoclast
had done all that was needed to bring about a perfect understanding,
and, as both men were armed with guns that admitted of some respect,
the _Sea-Horse_ held her way over the reef under all sail, while the
freshening breeze heeled her gradually over until she fairly tore along
through a calm sea, leaving a snowy, boiling wake astern.
III
Bahama Bill looked his men over. He feared neither gun nor knife when
the time came for a fracas, but there was another consideration which
moved him deeper than the threat of the thin-faced invalid. The marshal
had libelled his vessel upon an occasion, for the payment of a small
bill. Here he was forced, at the point of a gun, to run away, to carry
the evident prey with him. It would exonerate him if caught, for he
could prove that it was a matter he had no discretion in. He could,
with all safety, put as much space between the two vessels as possible.
All hands would swear that he was forced to do so.
The idea tickled him, and his huge, ugly mouth broadened out into a
sinister grin as the _Sea-Horse_, racing along through the choppy water
of the edge of the Gulf Stream, poked her short horn out over the foam,
and tore away to windward.
The box in the cabin excited his curiosity, but he felt sure that it
was of value, and that the men were trying to make a getaway with it.
Smart was sitting quietly watching the affair, and being, like the
mate, under the guns of the passengers, there was nothing to do but
obey orders, or take the consequences.
"Seems like your health has improved wonderfully since you dined on the
ship's grub," said the yacht captain, addressing the invalid, who held
the revolver.
"The sea air is good for the health," assented that gentleman, his thin
face lining up into something resembling a smile. "It'll be healthy
for all of us out here in the broad ocean, free from all cares. Oh,
the life on the bounding wave for me--isn't that so, Jim?" said he,
referring to his companion.
The sharp "ping" of a bullet interrupted the answer, and it was found
that to be perfectly safe it was necessary to remain under cover.
"Those bullets would go through the ship both ways and back again,"
said the invalid, as the rest snuggled down, "but of course it's well
to keep out of sight. Better put everything you can on her, skipper,"
he added, addressing the mate, "if you want to keep clear. Let her go.
Don't stop on our account. When we get an offing, I'll trust you to
steer without trouble, and I'll put out a line to catch some supper.
There ought to be fine fishing off the reef this time of year."
"Oh, I'm mighty feared ob those guns," said Bahama Bill, in a deep
voice, which he tried to raise to a frightened treble. "I'll steer her
all right toe any place yo' wants toe go. Lay de co'se, says me. I'll
take youse dere if the hooker'll go."
"It's a pity you haven't some decent canvas aboard her," said the
invalid.
"If you had some decent gear, we might show that fellow a clean wake.
You seem to know your business, all right."
"If you want to make a getaway, you better stop knocking this sloop,"
said Smart.
"Dat's right, cap'n, ef dese perfessers want toe make good, dey
better quit hittin' de _Sea-Horse_. I won't stand fer much ob dat
foolishing," said Bahama Bill.
"The invalid is a regular image-breaker," said the pale-eyed man
sympathetically; "don't mind the knocks, my good fellow. Tell me what
other cloth you can put on the ship, and I'll see that it's spread.
They're getting out everything that will hold wind astern of us."
This was the case aboard the schooner. The United States marshal, Tom
Fields, had been told of the successful onslaught of "Thin Jim" and
Dick Nichols, sometimes known as "the Owl" on account of his colourless
eyes, upon the safe of the gambling establishment. This contained seven
thousand dollars in cash, and nearly as much more in jewelry that had
been accepted for gambling debts.
The two crooks, a pair of the most desperate and notorious cracksmen,
had made good the haul in broad daylight, having first arranged to
have the sloop ready and waiting for the reception of the valuables.
The ignorance of her crew was rightly depended upon, and the plot had
so far been fairly successful. If they could once get to sea, the rest
would be easy, for they could land anywhere upon the Bahamas, from
Nassau a thousand miles down to the Great Inagua Bank. It would be next
to impossible to catch them. It all depended upon the vessel and her
manoeuvring.