character, and also that of her owners, he at once came to the
conclusion that the giant mate of the wrecker was in the game with the
other two experts from the North. He at once pressed the yacht _Silver
Bar_ into service, and making sail about the time the _Sea-Horse_ was
standing out the channel, came along in pursuit, with the conviction
that he would soon run the heavier working vessel down under his gun
and force her to surrender.
Armed with a modern rifle of small bore and great range, he had
returned the fire of the burglars at once, in the hope that he might
cripple some one, even at the range of half a mile. His ammunition
consisted of hardly more than a handful of cartridges, and he was
forced to use these sparingly, depending now upon the seamanship of his
crew and the seaworthiness of the _Silver Bar_ to make his catch.
With all sail he stood down the channel, and was beginning to haul
up on the _Sea-Horse_, when she took the first of the southerly wind
coming over the reef. This had given her a good start, and she was now
about a mile to windward, and going like mad to the eastward, across
the Gulf Stream.
"Clap everything you can on her," begged the marshal; "put out the
awning, tarpaulins, anything that will drive us. It's a thousand
dollars reward if we land them, and I'll split even with you if we do."
The captain of the _Silver Bar_ needed no urging. He wanted that
five hundred. He would have to go, anyway, and here was the chance
of the season. He broke out jib-topsails, stretched his mainsail
to the utmost, and trimmed his canvas for the struggle, setting a
club-topsail aft and a working one forward, with a big maintopmast
staysail. He was soon making the most of the lively breeze, and
plunging through the blue water to the tune of ten knots, heading right
into the wake of the flying _Sea-Horse_.
The wrecking-sloop, leaning well down to the now freshening gale, tore
a way through the Gulf Stream, sending the spray flying over her in a
constant shower. She headed well up, a trifle closer than the schooner,
and she waded through it like a live thing. Her rough gear, meant for
work and hard usage, stood her in good stead in the heavy water off
shore.
All the lines stretching taut as bow-strings to the pressure made a
musical humming which sounded pleasantly upon the ears of the listening
men aft. They still held their weapons in readiness, but it was evident
that Bahama Bill was going to send his favourite through to a finish in
a style fitting her record.
With one hand upon the wheel-spokes, he lounged upon the steering-gear,
nor ducked nor winced as the rifle projectiles now and again sang past.
The range was getting too great to be dangerous, and the ammunition
of the marshal was getting low. Finally the fire astern ceased, and
the two vessels raced silently across the Stream, each striving to the
utmost for the objective point, the Great Bahama Bank, seventy miles
away, due east.
Once upon the shoal, the wrecker would have the advantage, for he knew
the Bank well, and could follow channels which the heavier schooner
would almost certainly fetch up in. The marshal knew this, and urged
the schooner to the limit of her powers.
Away they went across the Stream. The _Silver Bar_ was rooting deeply
into the choppy sea, caused by the strong northerly current which flows
eternally between the Florida Reef and the Great Bahama Bank. She would
plunge headlong, and bury her bows clear to the knightheads, ramming
the water so heavily that it burst into a great comber from both sides.
Then she would raise her dripping forefoot clear, until one could
see under her body aft to the heel of the foremast, rearing up like
a spirited horse under the spur. Down she would plunge again with a
forward lunge, and every line of standing rigging would set like a bar
with the strain.
Fields, the marshal, was getting all he could out of her, and she was
gradually hauling up in the wake of the wrecker. Before the sun sank
in the west she was less than half a mile astern, and coming along
handsomely.
Smart, on the _Sea-Horse_, trimmed his canvas, stretched the peak of
the mainsail, and sweated the topsail sheet and tack until the lines
would stand no more. The _Sea-Horse_ was literally flying through it,
and her heavy build caused her to strike the seas with a smash which
flung the spray in showers.
Bahama Bill glanced astern, and saw that he would soon be alongside the
pursuer, and the anxious faces of the passengers told of a nervousness
which could not be concealed. Both Sam and Heldron were aware that
they were making a getaway, but they had no choice in the matter, and
they would obey the mate to the last.
Smart studied out several wild propositions which occurred to him to
disable the sloop and be overhauled, but, as there was every prospect
of getting shot for any attempt, he wisely kept on, feeling sure that
the marshal would soon be alongside and force surrender.
They had run all the afternoon, and had gone many miles, but now that
they were really at sea, the schooner would have the advantage.
Darkness came on, and the thin man holding the revolver appeared to
tire. "You might get dinner ready," said he, "I'm about ready to eat
again."
"I don't got noddings but pork, cold an' fat," said Heldron, who acted
as cook.
"Bring it on deck," said the invalid. "It's a shame you fellows live
the way you do."
He bolted a full pound of the greasy meat, and seemed to enjoy it.
"Does me good to see how you've improved under the salt air," said
Smart.
"The more he eats the thinner he gets," said the pale-eyed man,
shifting his automatic pistol into his left hand. "You can let me have
a try at it now."
After all hands had eaten, the darkness had grown to the blackness of a
tropic night. The _Sea-Horse_ kept along without lights, but those of
the schooner soon showed close astern, and appeared exceedingly near.
No shots had been fired, although the range was now close, and there
was every opportunity, could the marshal see, of hitting a man, but
the plunging of the vessels evidently made his aim uncertain, and he
reserved his fire, feeling sure that he would soon be close enough to
force matters to a satisfactory conclusion without bloodshed.
"Dere ain't but one chanct in fo'ty ob our makin' de gitaway," said
Bill, gazing astern at the approaching vessel, "but I'll do the bes'
I kin to shoo fly dat ornery marshal. Dere's a bit ob a squall makin'
ah'ad, an' ef we kin hold on till it comes up, I'll try to fluke him
when it's thick."
"My black friend, if your boat was any good you could make a getaway
without trouble, but this craft is surely on the bum," said the
thin-faced invalid ruefully. "I've no doubt you think her all right in
her way, but her way is not that of those who expect to make either
comfort or time when afloat--she's rotten."
"Look here," said Bahama Bill. "Yo' better take my advice an' not hit
this sloop any more. If yo' don't think she's any good, why yo' come
abo'd her? Why yo' want to run off with her, hey?"
"Why, indeed?" sighed the invalid, shifting his gun and gazing ahead
at the gathering blackness of the squall, which was just one of
those little puffs of smudge, a bit of breeze and drizzle, common to
southerly wind in the Stream.
"Shall I run her off an' make the try fo' it?" asked the mate.
"Yes, do the best you can," said the iconoclast, nursing the barrel
of the six-shooter. "Looks like we're up against it," he added to his
pale-eyed partner, who seemed to grow more and more anxious as the
pursuing schooner drew up in the wake of the _Sea-Horse_.
"Stand by to haul down the jib an' fo'sta's'l," ordered the mate, and
just then the first puff of the squall heeled the sloop over slightly,
and gave her greater speed. The rain came with the breeze, and for a
moment the vessel fairly tore along with the increased pressure. It
gave them considerable advantage over the schooner, for it struck them
first.
Just as it began to show signs of slacking up, Bahama Bill gave his
final orders. The head-sails were run down so as not to show against
the sky, and the mainsail run off until the leech was on edge to the
pursuing vessel, the _Sea-Horse_ squaring away and running off at
nearly right angles to her course. In this manner she presented little
besides her mast to be seen in the darkness, her white canvas being now
almost if not quite out of sight.
"Stan' up an' look astern, now," said Bahama Bill to the thin-faced man.
The request was complied with, both men standing up and gazing back
into the blackness, which now showed only the port, or red, light of
the schooner, telling plainly that she had not discovered their ruse,
and was holding on with the freshening breeze, confident that when it
let up she would be close aboard the sloop.
The course of the _Sea-Horse_ was almost due north, while that of the
pursuing vessel was east. Before the thickness of the rain was over,
the wrecker would be safely out of sight to the northward, and the
marshal would hold on only to find he was chasing nothing. They watched
her pass on toward the Bahamas, and her lights fade out, and then the
thin-faced passenger spoke.
"For a bum old boat, this did the trick, all right," said he to his
partner. "I didn't think we'd make it, but I guess we will, all right,
now--what?"
"Looks like we're off for fair," said the pale-eyed man. "We'll make
a landing without delay, and let the marshal go hunting the town of
Nassau for two well--but not favourably--known gentlemen. That's a
strong shooting rifle he carries, hey?"
While they talked, interested in the chase, the mate of the _Sea-Horse_
had begun to think of his part in the affair. Both he and Smart had now
to face a serious charge, and the prospect was not pleasant, especially
as they had not chosen to take part in the escape of the two men who
now had shown that they were fugitives from the law and the marshal.
The mate had outwitted his old enemy, and, as the success of his
seamanship became evident, he began to realize that the game was now
up to him. Smart stood near, and was about to say something to that
effect, when he caught the glint of the black man's eye, shining white
in the darkness.
It conveyed a meaning to the yacht captain, for he was well versed in
tricks of the sea, and he at once spoke to the passengers, calling
their attention to the vanishing ship. He did not know just what Bahama
Bill would do, but he knew from that look he would act, and act at once.
Almost instantly the mate pushed the wheel-spokes slowly over, doing it
so gently, so gradually, that only Smart was aware that the wind was
hauling to the lee, and that the mainsail would soon be taken aback. He
spoke again, and the men gazed a moment more at the shadow passing out
across the Stream. Then the mainsail took the wind to port, and swung
with a quick jibe to starboard.
The sheet well off came over in a bight, and, while the two gentlemen
of fortune had agility enough to dodge the main boom, the line caught
the tall, thin-faced invalid, and jerked him quickly over the side into
the sea.
The other man sprang out of the way, but almost instantly recovered
himself, and covered the mate with his weapon. He seemed to realize
that some trick had been played, but just what he failed to understand.
He hesitated to fire, and that instant cost him the game. Bahama Bill
made a quick plunge over the taffrail, and disappeared in the white
wake astern. The pale-eyed man held his pistol in readiness to shoot,
but he was warned again by Smart's voice.
"Don't fire, you fool, he'll save your friend," cried the captain.
"They'll hear the shot aboard the schooner--put up your gun."
The quickness of events seemed to cause even the cool-headed burglar
to hesitate as to what course to pursue. The mate had gone overboard
evidently to save his companion. It was certain death to be left out
there in the ocean, and Smart was even now swinging the _Sea-Horse_
around in a great circle, heading well to the westward, to make it
farthest from the disappearing schooner.
Heldron and Sam had sprung to the sheet, and were rapidly hauling it in
hand over hand, while Smart bawled out orders for them, regardless of
the saturnine passenger with the gun, who seemed undecided whether to
shoot some of them or not.
He sat down and gazed astern at the place where the two men had
vanished. He knew his companion was a strong swimmer, but he knew
nothing of the black man's giant strength, his remarkable staying
powers, and fishlike ability in the sea.
Smart hauled the sloop up on her port tack, and slowly circled, knowing
almost exactly where he would pick up the mate. He would not go too
fast, for fear of overrunning him, and he felt certain that he need not
hurry on his account.
The pale-eyed man appeared to think there was little use hunting for
men in the darkness, and his knowledge of his whereabouts was evidently
completely lost.
"What's the use, now?" he asked finally. "You can't find a man in the
ocean on a dark night. Better give it up. Let's make a run back for the
Keys."
"With Bill trying to save your partner?" asked Smart, in feigned
disgust.
"Oh, well, my friend, if there was any use of hunting for them, I would
stay as long as the next man."
"I'm not exactly what you might call your friend," said Smart coldly,
"but I'm going to stay around here a little while. Don't try to force
matters, because I won't leave this part of the Atlantic until I'm
satisfied both are gone for good."
"See here, Mr. Sailor-man," said the pale-eyed one. "I hold the
decision just now. I don't want to make rough-house on board of your
excellent yacht, but you must do as I say. I'm not a knocker. I don't
want to say anything against you. But you take my orders, and make a
getaway from here in about two minutes. I want to land that box before
daybreak--you understand?"
Smart was about to argue the matter further, but desisted for a few
minutes while he had the forestaysail run up and the jib hoisted. He
was swinging around in a large circle, and was now ready to carry
head-sail and have his vessel manageable. In the meantime, Bahama Bill
was busy some two hundred fathoms distant.
IV
When the mate plunged overboard after the thin-faced gentleman, he had
a very definite idea of what he must do. To attempt to retake his ship
under the guns of two armed men who were expert at the use of firearms
would have been suicide. They would have shot him before he could have
taken charge.
He knew Smart to be a good sailor, and had considerable faith in his
ability to handle himself properly in an emergency. He felt certain
that the captain understood the game, and gave him merely a look to
signify that he was ready. Then he had gone over the side for the man
who had the six-shooter, feeling sure that the fellow would not let go
of the weapon until he had to.
He swam quickly along in the swirl of the wake, keeping his eyes open
for the head of the passenger to appear upon the whitened surface. In a
moment he saw him.
The thin-faced rogue was a strong swimmer. He was also a powerful man,
spare and muscular, capable of taking care of himself in that smooth
sea for a long time. He had suddenly found himself flung far over the
side by the jibing sheet, but he clutched his pistol firmly, knowing
that his partner would take charge until he was safe aboard again.
The weapon was heavy, but he jammed it into his waist-belt and struck
out slowly, meaning to swim along easily until the sloop returned to
pick him up. He could see her plainly, and he saw Smart start to swing
her around to return.
Then he was suddenly aware of a black head and face close aboard him,
the head sticking out of the sea and coming along at a smart pace. At
first the sight startled him. He hardly knew what had happened. Then he
surmised that the mate had been swept overboard also, and was swimming
near for company.
"You got it, too?" he asked, as the head of Bahama Bill came nearer.
The answer was a terrific blow between the eyes, which sent the stars
sailing through his brain. Then he felt the powerful hands of the
giant black closing upon him, and he fought with furious energy to
keep free. They clutched and clinched, the mate getting a firm hold of
the man's right hand, which he twisted around behind him. The struggle
caused them to sink below the surface, and the straining made breathing
necessary.
The giant mate swam fiercely to regain the surface, dragging his
antagonist along with him. He finally got his head clear, and breathed
deeply the salt air of the ocean, spitting out a quantity of salt water.
The thin-faced man had swallowed much brine, and he came up weakly.
He still struggled, but he was no match for the black diver. In a few
minutes Bahama Bill had his hands secured behind him, and then rolling
easily over upon his back, he grasped the fellow by the collar, and
proceeded to swim with him in the direction of the _Sea-Horse_, turning
his head now and then to keep her whereabouts certain.
He lost her several times in the splash and froth of little seas, which
broke again and again over his head, for he swam low and saved his
strength, but he knew that Smart would stand by. Soon he made her out
coming along smartly right for him, and he suddenly raised himself and
called out loudly:
"Get the small boat over--don't yo' try to pick me up from de sloop,"
he bawled, in his bull-like tones.
Smart understood, and threw the _Sea-Horse_ into the wind, Sam and
Heldron heaving the small boat upon the rail, and waiting for her
headway to slacken before launching her. Then they dropped her over and
sprang aboard.
Somewhere off in the darkness they stopped and pulled the men from
the water, but neither Smart nor his passenger could see in just what
condition they were rescued. The boat seemed to take a long time over
the matter, and when she finally started back the pair on board the
_Sea-Horse_ saw only the two men, Sam and Heldron, rowing as they had
started out.
As the boat came alongside, the pale-eyed man peered over to see if his
partner had been rescued. He still held his weapon in readiness for
enforcing his orders, intending to push matters rapidly the moment the
men were aboard again.
The first intimation he received of anything wrong was a spurt of
fire issuing from the bottom of the small boat, accompanied by a loud
explosion.
At the same instant a heavy bullet struck him just below the
collar-bone, slewing him around and causing his pistol to fall from his
hand. The next instant Smart was upon him, and bore him to the deck.
The men clambered aboard, Bahama Bill leading, and in less than
five minutes they had the two worthies triced up in a shipshape and
seamanlike manner, lying upon the after-deck.
The giant mate gave a grunt of approval as he glanced at Smart.
"Yo' suah did de right thing, cap--I reckoned yo' might--but dat was a
bad place toe jump a man, out dere in de water; it was dat, fer a fact.
Now, yo' Dutchman, yo' Sam, git de grub from de box ob dat invalid,
I'm mighty hungry, I kin suah eat a tid-bit--then we'll see how long
it takes us toe git in behind Floridy Cape. I s'pose yo' wouldn't mind
a bite ob dat good grub yo' brought abo'd, hey, perfesser?" he asked,
addressing the reclining invalid.
"Don't rub it in, cap'n; don't rub it in," said the thin-faced man from
his place upon the planks. "You take my advice and let that box alone.
It'll take a stick of dynamite to bust it, being as it is made of steel
under the outside wood cover. It's a very good safe, and strong. Better
let that Dutchman get us a few pounds of that salt pig you have aboard,
and some boiled corn. I'll risk the indigestion--and let it go at that."
Before daylight they had landed their prisoners and the safe upon the
dock at Miami, and Sam had gone up-town to notify the authorities that
the marshal was taking a cruise for his health to the Great Bahama Bank.
"If the vessel had been any good," muttered the thin-faced, as he
was led away, "we'd have made good easily enough. She was a bum ship,
mighty poor, and that was what caused the trouble."
"I still has a lot ob faith in her," said Bahama Bill.
XII
Journegan's Graft
When Stormalong Journegan found that running a saloon in coöperation
with the police had its draw-backs, he turned his attention to more
lucrative fields.
"It's no use fooling with such fellows as you," he said one day, "you
are sharks, pure blood-sucking sharks, you don't give a fellow half
a show to make a living. I'm through with you. I'm done. I sell out
to-day. Shanahan might be able to stand you off, he's rough, rough as a
file and ready to get into trouble. I'm past that stage of the game. I
want to live quietly without so much fuss, so much fracas and so much
blackmail. I'm going where brains count for as much as trickery and
downright rascality. I'm going where there are some educated Yankees,
some Northern men of means who can tell a man when they see him--yes,
I'm through with you Conchs and crabs."
After delivering himself he spent several days winding up his affairs
at the Cayo Huesso, the beautiful white bar at Key West, converted his
belongings into cash and took the steamer for Miami, where he arrived
in due course of time. He stood upon the deck of the steamer one
morning and watched the rising of the Florida Cape to the northward,
stood and gazed at the beautiful bay of Biscayne, where the Northern
tourists had been flocking during the cold weather to fish and hunt
in the bright sunshine of the reef. The bay was full of small craft,
yachts of all descriptions thronged the dredged harbour and small boats
came and went over the bright coral banks which shone varicoloured a
few feet beneath the surface in the glare of the torrid sun. Yes, there
was some life here, something more than the dull and sullen Conchs, the
voracious grafters of the reef city and the straying ship's passenger.
Here was Northern capital, Northern progress.
"It looks very good to me," mused Mr. Journegan as he gazed serenely
down from the hurricane deck of the Key West steamer.
They passed several vessels he knew. There was the wrecking-sloop,
_Sea-Horse_ of Key West, the _Silver Bar_, schooner-yacht for charter,
and several others. Upon the deck of the wrecker he saw the big black
mate, Bahama Bill, sitting smoking his pipe, his muscular shoulders
shining like coal in the sunlight, while he rubbed his rheumy eyes, the
red-rimmed eyes of a diver in salt water, to see better as he watched
the approaching ship. Yes, and there was Captain Smart of the lost Dunn
schooner, sitting upon the taffrail fishing. He waved his hand to them
as the steamer swung past, the thudding of her paddles drowning his
hail of welcome which he called out when abreast.
He landed and made his way to the hotel. He had plenty of money and
would live right while he felt like it. There was no reason why he
should stint himself in any worldly pleasure. Several thousand dollars
would last him some time, and after it was spent--well, he seldom went
broke. It was not men of his ability who went broke. Oh, no, money was
too easy. He never could see why some people found it hard to get. Get,
why it seemed to come to him. He couldn't keep it away. After all, he
figured that he must be something of a man to make it so easily when so
many strove so hard. Yes, it was brains that made money, brains, not
brawn, not toil--foolishness. Well, he was here to see, to watch, to
take notice. If there was anything floating about, it was most likely
he would pick it up. He couldn't help it.
The gambling-place allowed by the management of the hotel was very
well kept. It was surrounded by palms and flowers, and its green
tables were made as enticing as human ingenuity allowed. Mr. Journegan
found them much to his taste, and as the days slipped by he found that
instead of a few thousand dollars in his pockets he had but a scant
hundred. He also had a hotel bill running up at something like twenty
dollars per day. He awoke slowly to the realization that he must quit
the game and hustle for cash. It was about this time that he made the
acquaintance of a gentleman from New York who had read much and studied
more, deeming the human race a fit problem to devote his mind upon. Mr.
Smithe, who insisted that he had an "e" to his name, found the yarns
of Journegan much to his liking. The two met upon the hotel verandas
and also at the gaming-tables, and after a few days they began to spar
for an opening for personal confidences.