AN OUTRAGE IN THE STANDING-ROOM OF THE SLOOP.
Jeff Monroe fell all in a heap at the door of the cuddy; but his fall
did not deter his fellow-ruffians from advancing upon the skipper. Buck
Lamb threw himself in front of Mad Twinker, as though he intended to
redeem his escutcheon from the stain of defeat. Bissell was no more a
fighting character than Paul, and he had not the least idea of
"science." Buck was in proper position to make or receive an attack, and
the skipper had risen from his sitting posture when the prisoner did.
[Illustration: "His fall did not prevent his fellow-ruffians from
advancing upon the skipper."--Page 216.]
Instead of hitting as a pugilist should, Bissell reached out his long
arm, and took the bully by the collar of his uniform, jerked him over
once, and then tossed him upon the prostrate form of Jeff Monroe. Mad
Twinker had bravely followed up the attack until he was in reach of the
skipper's arm, and he was tumbled over in a heap.
But Bissell could not do duty with his long arms and steer at the same
time; and the Silver Moon, now having a strong weather helm, came up
into the wind, and, with her boom shaking in the midst of the
combatants, began to roll as though she intended to pitch the ruffians
overboard without any help from her owner. Jackson, Sumner and Douglas
had retreated from the after part of the standing-room, and the motion
of the boat, made more unsteady by the movements of the ruffians,
pitched them all into the seats.
Buck Lamb and Mad Twinker rose to their feet as soon as they could, but
Jeff Monroe was not yet in a condition to move. The skipper put the helm
up, and the sloop filled away again. Paul had advanced a pace, and taken
a seat near the skipper, but with the spare tiller ready to deal a blow
as soon as a head came near enough to receive it.
The ruffians looked at the heavy tiller in the hand of Paul, and then
they looked at the long arms of the skipper. While they were gazing
there was a halt all along the line, which afforded an opportunity for
reflection. Some of them cast their eyes about them for something in the
shape of a weapon. The spare tiller seemed to be the only stick that
would answer the purpose of a club, except the crutch used to support
the boom when the sail was furled, and that was under the owner's seat.
Both Mad and Buck seemed to realize that they could do nothing without
bringing that tiller down upon their heads, and its descent was almost
sure to reduce them to the condition of Jeff Monroe, who was just
beginning to show some signs of life. While they were thinking about it,
the skipper came about, and headed the sloop towards the shore. When he
had done so, he picked up the crutch, and placed it on the seat, by his
side.
The Silver Moon was now headed in the direction of Sandy Point. The
Beech Hill barges were some distance astern of her, and the
Chesterfields at least a quarter of a mile farther to the westward.
"I don't think it is quite safe, Paul, to leave these fellows lying
round loose in the standing-room," said Bissell, when he had the boat
well in hand on the new tack. At the same time he drew out from the
locker under him the ropes from which he had selected the reef pendant.
"What do you mean by that?" demanded Mad Twinker, before Paul had time
to reply.
"I mean that I shall be under the disagreeable necessity of tying your
arms behind you, just as you had Paul when you brought him on board,"
replied Bissell; but his tone and manner did not indicate that the duty
was a very unpleasant one.
"But we won't stand it!" replied Mad angrily.
"Won't you?" continued Bissell, as he took the crutch in his hand.
"I protest against such an outrage!" exclaimed Ham Jackson.
"Oh, you protest, do you? And you really think it would be an outrage?"
said Bissell, in a mocking tone.
"We are students in the Chesterfield Collegiate Institute, and we are
the sons of gentlemen," returned Ham, with dignity. "Of course, it would
be an outrage to put us in bonds, like common felons."
"Precisely so; then we will tie your hands behind you like uncommon
felons. We won't quarrel about words, for you can beat me every time in
that line. I suppose it was not an outrage for you to attack Paul
Bristol, six to one, in the street, and tie his hands behind him,"
replied the skipper, with a very heavy sneer. "He don't happen to belong
to the Institute, but he is a member of the Beech Hill School."
"We don't care what he is," interposed Mad Twinker. "We won't submit to
be bound! We won't stand such an indignity!"
"You think you won't? I don't believe I shall have much trouble in tying
the hands behind him of that fellow on the floor," continues Bissell.
"It is for you to decide whether you will have your hands tied before or
after you are knocked stiff. I will begin with you, Mr. Twinker."
"No, you won't!" cried Mad, as he sprang from his seat, and rushed madly
upon the skipper.
Bissell was on his feet, and, reaching out his long arm, he took his
assailant by the throat, in spite of the wild blows he aimed at him.
This time he did not pitch him on the floor, but choked him till the
ruffian began to feel weak, and to relax his struggles.
"You take the tiller, Paul, but don't let go the spare one. If one of
them moves aft, knock him as you did the first fellow," said Bissell, as
he picked up the reef pendant he had cut off.
Paul took the helm. He had steered a sailboat before, though he knew
next to nothing about the general management of the craft, and kept her
as she was. By this time Mad was decidedly faint, and the owner had no
difficulty in tying his arms behind him. When he had done so, he picked
up the crutch again, and stepped forward. His next victim was Buck Lamb;
but as about all the vim had gone out of the bully, it was an easy job
to secure him. The other four ruffians made no resistance worth
mentioning, for the crutch in the hand of the skipper was an awful
weapon; so was the spare tiller which Paul wielded. If the ruffians
could have got hold of anything in the way of clubs, doubtless they
would have held out longer.
As it was, they were completely vanquished. Bissell had ranged them
three on a side as he bound them, and they had not been inclined to
move. Possibly they thought they were in a bad condition to save
themselves if the Silver Moon had taken it into her head to upset and
spill them into the angry lake.
"We are all right now, Paul. Don't you say so?" said the skipper, as he
seated himself on the weather side and took the helm.
"I should say that we were," replied the late prisoner heartily. "You
have saved me, Mr. Bissell, from an awful pounding at the hands of Major
Billcord and his son; and I owe you a thousand thanks. I shall never
forget what you have done for me to-day."
"I think I got saved myself this forenoon," added the skipper; "and I
guess I know how it feels. I think we should all have been drowned in
the Silver Moon if it hadn't been for the Beech Hillers; and I don't
feel as though I could ever do half enough for them. We are not square
yet, Paul, and you did your share."
"I didn't do much; it was Dory Dornwood who did it all," answered Paul
modestly.
"It cut me like a sharp razor to give in to a mere boy on sailing, but
Dory knows more about a boat with his eyes shut than I do with mine wide
open. He didn't put on any airs, either," continued Bissell, with
enthusiasm.
"By the big wooden spoon, there comes the Sylph!" exclaimed Paul, as the
steam yacht came out from behind Barber's Point. "Captain Gildrock is on
board of her, and you may be sure he will put things to rights in double
quick time."
"All right; I am glad he is coming, for I don't know what to do with
these fellows, now that we have them where they can't set the lake on
fire," added the skipper, as he glanced at the Sylph. "We will keep on
as we are, for I suppose she is going over to Beaver River."
"I think you have carried this thing about far enough, Mr. Bissell,"
said Mad Twinker, after he had taken a glance at the steam yacht.
"Not quite, Mr. Twinker," replied the skipper, with a smile. "I shall
carry it about as far as that steam yacht, and then I don't care a
button what becomes of it."
"You mean by that to hand us over to the principal of the Beech Hill
School?" inquired Ham Jackson.
"I reckon it amounts to that."
"If you settle the thing that way, you will have to answer to Colonel
Buckmill," added Mad Twinker.
"I am ready to answer to him. Do you think the principal of the
Chesterfield school will justify you in committing such an outrage as
you have put on Paul Bristol?" demanded Bissell indignantly.
"Then why don't you hand us over to Colonel Buckmill?"
"So I would if he happened along here at about this time. Perhaps the
other principal will pass you over to Colonel Buckmill," suggested the
skipper, with a sort of chuckle, as though he had his doubts on the
subject. "Six of you set upon Paul in the most cowardly manner, and--"
"Only two at a time," interposed Buck Lamb.
"How was it, Paul?" asked Bissell.
The intended victim of the ruffians told his story in full, not omitting
to mention the punishment he had bestowed upon his assailants. Bissell
expressed himself very emphatically in regard to the cowardly character
of the assault, and was glad Paul had defended himself till he was
overpowered by numbers. The faces of some of the ruffians bore the marks
of his hard fists, and they were probably booked for mourning eyes by
the next day.
By this time the Silver Moon was off Sandy Point. Paul had watched with
interest the movements of the Sylph. When first seen she was headed for
Scotch Bonnet, which was her direct course when homeward bound; but she
soon shifted her helm, as though she was going up to Westport.
"She is going to make a landing at the town," said Paul, when he noticed
the change of course.
"I am sorry for that, for I thought she was coming over this way,"
replied Bissell.
"Captain Gildrock must see all the barges, and I am sure he will run
over here as soon as he makes them out," added Paul.
The words were hardly out of his mouth before the head of the steamer
was turned in the direction of the Beech Hill barges, which were not
half a mile astern of the Silver Moon. The skipper decided to come
about, and stand back to the fleet. Before he could reach the boats, the
Sylph had stopped her screw, and was hailing the Gildrock. Oscar Chester
informed him that Paul Bristol had been taken a prisoner by six of the
Chesterfields, and that the skipper of the sloop was conveying him to
Sandy Point. This was all the commodore knew about the matter, but it
was enough for the captain. He started the screw again, and in a few
moments he had overhauled the Silver Moon.
From the pilot-house the principal could see the condition of things in
the standing-room of the sloop. Again Captain Gildrock rang one bell,
and then two. As the steamer lost her headway the Silver Moon rounded to
under her lee side, where she had still water.