“PUTTING UP” A MARINE JOB
THE “Rocket” was now drifting, while those aboard watched developments
in the ocean game ahead.
“I don’t quite understand what it profits us if Frank is sent aboard
the schooner as a prisoner,” insisted Mr. Moddridge.
“Well, if the launch crowd do that, and then the launch heads back
for the coast, passing out of sight of things hereabouts, it’s going
to be rather easy for a fast boat like ours to keep up with a sailing
schooner, isn’t it?” Captain Tom propounded.
“Yes, but how are we going to help Frank Delavan any?” demanded the
nervous one. “There must be men aboard the schooner, and undoubtedly
they’re armed, which we’re not.”
“We’ll have to see what happens, and use our ingenuity,” Tom replied.
“Humph!” said Mr. Moddridge, sadly. “I’d rather have one small cannon
than all the ingenuity in the world, just now.”
Knowing that nothing could happen right away, Hank Butts coolly
stretched himself on the mattress to finish his interrupted nap. Tom
and Joe remained intently watching the mastheads of the two craft that
were miles away.
“The launch is surely making straight for the schooner,” Joe Dawson
ventured. “Your guess is all right, Tom.”
Within a few minutes more the mastheads were mingled to the view of the
young observers aboard the “Rocket.” The two suspected craft remained
together for nearly half an hour.
“Now, they’re breaking apart,” Halstead reported, at last, watching
through the glass. “The launch is turning. She’s making back west. And
now, old fellow, it’s us for a more southerly course. We must keep out
of the launch’s sight, but never for an instant lose the schooner’s
mastheads. For, if Francis Delavan isn’t aboard that schooner now I
shall never feel at liberty to make a guess again. Take the wheel, Joe,
and start her up. Keep to the southwest. I’ll keep my eye mainly on the
launch’s masthead.”
This they did, for fifteen minutes. Then Tom laid the glass down in its
rack by the wheel.
“The launch has just gone out of sight,” he announced. “Not even the
button on her masthead is visible through the glass. Now, head about
for that schooner’s tops, Joe.”
After a few minutes more they could make out the schooner’s
cross-trees. Bit by bit more of her masts became visible. Then
followed the first glimpse of the schooner’s upper hull.
Throwing on the speed to full eighteen miles an hour, Captain Tom now
gave fast pursuit. The schooner had now observed the “Rocket’s” chase
and was using all sail, but could not make more than seven knots.
“We’ve surely kicked up some excitement on that other craft,” laughed
the young skipper, gleefully.
“How many men can you make out on her decks?” queried Joe.
“Five.”
In a stern chase of this kind the “Rocket” was not long in coming to
close quarters with the sailing vessel. But now eleven men were visible
on her decks.
“And all rough, hard-looking customers, too,” chuckled Halstead.
“Hm! I can’t quite understand what you’re so merry about,” said Mr.
Moddridge, wonderingly.
“Force of habit,” replied Captain Tom, with a smile.
He ran the “Rocket” up parallel with the schooner, shutting down speed
considerably. There was now a distance of barely five hundred feet
between the two craft. The crew of the schooner lined up at her port
rail, surveying the “Rocket” and those aboard, but no hail was passed
between the two craft.
“They’re not allowing Mr. Delavan the freedom of the deck, anyway,”
declared Tom. He now ran the “Rocket” a little further to the
northward, every eye on the schooner’s deck following the manœuvre.
“Joe, shut off speed jerkily,” ordered the young skipper, by the time
the two craft were almost a mile apart. “Shut off as though something
were happening to our engine.”
“Why—er—what——” began Eben Moddridge, hesitatingly, as Joe vanished
below after turning the wheel over to his chum.
“I’m going to try the value of putting up a marine job on those fellows
yonder,” replied Halstead, very quietly.
Eben Moddridge asked no more questions, though there was a most
wondering look in his eyes. The “Rocket’s” speed began to dwindle.
“Hank,” called Tom, “get up and rush about, into the engine room and
out. Mr. Moddridge, show all the excitement you can yourself. That
ought to be easy,” the young captain added, under his breath.
“Why—why—why——” came from the nervous one.
“Act as though our engine had broken down, and we were simply crazy
over our luck.”
By this time the motor boat was lying all but motionless, moving only
under the impulse of recent headway. Leaving the wheel at a bound,
Halstead leaped down into the engine room.
“If the fellows on the schooner are holding a glass on us, they saw me
do that,” laughed Tom, as he landed beside his chum. Hank rushed up on
deck, vanishing aft. After a few moments he flew forward again, diving
down into the engine room.
“I say,” called Eben Moddridge, from the hatchway, “this conduct of
yours is about as hard to understand as——”
“That’s right, sir,” replied Tom, coolly. “Stand there, looking down at
us as though you’re all broken up. That’ll help fool the fellow with
the glass aboard the schooner.”
“It’s working bully, fine!” reported Joe, gleefully, looking out of one
of the starboard port-holes. “The schooner’s skipper is easing off his
sheets. He’s going to lie to and watch us. Hank, you’d better start
another excited merry-go-round between here and aft.”
Young Butts was surely in his element doing things that looked crazy.
The way he raced over the deck and bobbed in and out must have made
the schooner’s people believe that there was extraordinary excitement
aboard the motor boat. Halstead now joined his chum in looking out to
starboard.
“Say,” he roared, suddenly, “that’s just what we wanted!”
Eben Moddridge turned to stare over the water.
“Why, they seem to be lowering a boat,” he observed.
“Just what,” retorted Captain Halstead, springing up on deck and
bringing the marine glass to bear. “One, two, three—say, they’re
putting eight men over the side to man that boat. They’re going to send
that hard-looking crowd to board us.”
“What for?” demanded Moddridge, beginning to tremble.
“They think our engine has broken down temporarily. They’re going to
board us and finish the job by putting our engine out of business for
good,” laughed Tom Halstead, happily.
“I—I—er—I can’t quite see where we gain by that,” quaked the nervous
financier.
“Keep your eyes open, then,” begged Halstead, as he continued to watch
the strangers. The boat, with its eight men, was coming across the
waters as fast as four lusty rowers could send it. Hank performed a few
more frantic rushes in and out of the engine room during the minutes
that the boat’s crew used in getting near the “Rocket.”
“Keep off!” hailed Tom, mockingly, when the small boat was within three
hundred feet.
No reply came from the boat’s crew. They were sullenly silent. Halstead
could see no signs of weapons among them. Suddenly the young skipper
sprang to the speed-ahead deck control of the engine, giving it a
whirl. Then, instantly, he laid hands on the wheel. The “Rocket” forged
ahead once more, while angry oaths burst from the lips of the men in
the small boat, almost alongside. But the motor boat shot on her way,
leaving the small boat’s crew helplessly in the lurch.
Giving a wide sweep to the helm, Tom brought about, heading straight
for the distant schooner. Those in the small boat followed at only a
fraction of the speed.
“Why, what are you up to, now?” demanded Eben Moddridge, his eyes wide
and almost bulging.
“Going to board the schooner before that boat’s crew has a chance to
get back,” replied Captain Tom, his eyes gleaming brightly. “If Mr.
Delavan is aboard we’ll get him. There are only three men left on the
schooner, and the ‘Rocket’s’ crew numbers three.”
“There are four of us, you mean,” declared Moddridge, with a
near-whoop. “If there’s to be any fighting, now, on Frank Delavan’s
account, you’ll have to count me in!”
The shock of that sudden announcement almost had the effect of causing
Tom Halstead to fall away from the wheel in sheer amazement.