ACROSS THE GULF OF MEXICO.
We had arrived at only a partial solution of the mystery, though we had
done enough to relieve Captain Blastblow from any evil intentions in
the premises. What Cornwood's connection with the affair was did not
yet appear. He could not have known that Nick Boomsby was on board of
the Islander, for he had gone to St. Augustine, where we had put in on
account of stress of weather. He could not have known that we intended
to put into St. Augustine, for we had no intention to do so when we
left Jacksonville.
Possibly Cornwood had put one thing and another together until he
believed Nick had taken the four thousand dollars, and had made his
escape in the Islander. It looked as though Cornwood had some
connection with the robbery, for the Islander had hurried on her way to
New Orleans, if she was bound there, as soon as the Sylvania came in
sight. If he had delivered the letter to Captain Blastblow, the latter
would have remained in Key West until the arrival of her owner, as
instructed by the written message.
"Cornwood and Nick did a good deal of talking, it appears, while the
Islander was here," said Washburn, "though we don't know what it was
all about."
"I have no doubt Cornwood took the management of the case at this
point," I replied. "Nick must have forged one letter to induce Captain
Blastblow to start the Islander without her owner and his family; and I
have no doubt Cornwood forged another to make him continue the voyage."
"I hope we shall know all about the matter in a few hours more," said
Washburn.
"You understand the entire situation now, Captain Cayo, and see why we
want to overhaul the Islander," I continued.
"I see the whole of it, and I will do the best I can to outsail the
other steamer; but that depends more on your vessel than on me,"
replied the pilot. "Will you let your men heave the log?"
We had been driving the Sylvania to her utmost, and Ben Bowman reported
that we were making eleven and a half knots, which was doing
exceedingly well in the teeth of a fresh north-west wind. Captain Cayo
went to the westward of the bar-buoy, while the Islander had gone to
the eastward of it more than a mile. I saw that we had gained a mile by
this course, and the Islander was not more than four miles ahead of us.
I gave the pilot my views of the relative speed of the two vessels,
though I told him that Captain Blastblow might get a higher rate of
speed out of her than any one had done before.
"We shall soon see which sails fastest," said Captain Cayo. "The
Islander has laid her course for the South-west Pass of the
Mississippi. All you have to do is to follow her. There is our
pilot-boat; and this is as far as we usually take vessels."
"But I don't care to have you leave us here, Captain Cayo," I replied.
"It is clear enough that the Islander intends to keep out of our way.
She may run in among the Dry Tortugas, and having a pilot on board, she
could easily elude us."
"She might do that when she finds you are gaining on her, as I see you
are, for we have made half a knot on her since we came out of the
channel. But if we leave the pilot-boat behind, I can't get off the
steamer when you don't want me any longer. Besides, it looks like a
change of weather, and pilots are in demand when it is foggy or blows,
at this season of the year."
"What sort of weather do you expect next?" I asked.
"The wind will work round to the south-west, and then it will be
foggy," replied the pilot, scanning the horizon.
"Can't you go to New Orleans, or remain on board till we meet a steamer
for Key West?" I suggested.
"I should be very happy to go to New Orleans with you, for there will
be no steamer for Key West for several days. But I am not a pilot for
the Mississippi River, and you will have to pay another just the same
as though I were not on board."
He named his price, besides expenses; and as it was reasonable, I
accepted it at once. My experience the night before, when I found the
Sylvania was ten miles from where I supposed she was, made me extremely
cautious. I felt entirely competent to take the steamer to the
South-east Pass of the Mississippi; but it was evident that Cornwood
had obtained control of the Islander, acting as the agent of Colonel
Shepard, and that he would not permit the Sylvania to come near her if
he could avoid it. Probably the Conch who had acted as her pilot so far
would understand the channels of the Tortugas, and could easily take
the Islander where I should not care to follow her.
The pilot-boat lay very nearly in our course, and a boat put off from
her as we approached. Captain Cayo stopped the steamer when the boat
was abreast of her. He jumped upon the rail, and told the oarsmen that
he was going to New Orleans.
"Now start her, Mr. Mate," said he to Washburn, as he crawled over the
rail to the deck.
"Now Cornwood will believe the pilot has left you," said Captain Cayo.
"The Islander is still two miles off, and I don't think her people
could see me when I crawled back over the rail."
It was a dead calm on the Gulf of Mexico, and the Sylvania was still
making eleven and a half knots an hour. I calculated that we had gained
two knots on the Islander, one by taking the shorter course, and one by
outsailing her.
"I think we had better keep her more to the southward," said Captain
Cayo, after he had taken a survey of the horizon, especially in the
southwest, where a pile of clouds seemed to be gathering.
"Why to the southward?" I asked.
"I think the captain of the Islander must see by this time that we are
gaining on him, and that it is only a question of three or four hours
when we shall overhaul her," replied the pilot. "If I were in his
place, I should steer for the Tortugas, and leave you five or ten miles
behind by dodging into some shallow channel. By keeping to the
southward, we shall be in a better position to head her off."
"I see; and we are almost up with the Tortugas. If we keep to the
southward, we shall be right in her course if she attempts to run for
those islands."
"Right you are, Captain Alick," added the pilot, as he changed the
course to due west. "There is a breeze coming up from the southward,
which is quite a regular thing towards night. It will blow fresh for
some hours, just about a whole sail breeze. I think you had better get
your sails set, for the one that uses the wind first will make the
most."
I told the mate to call all hands, and put on every rag of canvas we
could set. Before he had the foretopsail shaken out, the breeze came,
though it was very light. By the time the rest of the sails were set,
it was blowing lively. It was five o'clock in the afternoon, and we
were fairly up with the Tortugas, and at least a mile to the southward
of the Islander. If she attempted to get in among the islands, she must
run across our course, and less than a mile ahead of the Sylvania. We
could easily cut her off.
"She can't get in among those islands now without running into us," I
said, after I had carefully surveyed the situation.
"That is as true as preaching," added Captain Cayo, laughing, when he
saw that the other steamer was checkmated if she had intended to resort
to any stratagem to avoid us. "We may as well put the steamer on her
course for the South-east Pass."
He suited his action to the words. The wind was freshening, and the log
indicated that we were making twelve knots strong. Moses was still
crowding on all the steam the boiler would bear, and I am sure the
yacht never sailed any faster.
At six I estimated that the Islander was not more than a mile ahead of
us, and another hour would wipe out all the difference.
"This wind is good for us in one way, and bad in another," said Captain
Cayo, shaking his head after a searching gaze to windward.
"You mean that we are likely to have some fog," I added.
"Not only likely to have a fog, but sure of it. It is miles deep to the
southward and westward."
"Of course the Islander will be able to keep out of the way in a fog;
and we can't help ourselves," I replied, trying to yield as gracefully
as possible to the necessity of giving up our point.
I had hardly uttered the words before the fog swept down upon us. It
was very dense, and we could not see a ship's length ahead of us; at
about the same time the wind suddenly subsided. We could see nothing of
the Islander, and I had no doubt she had already shifted her course to
the north or the south.
"The game is all up, Captain Cayo," I said, very mournfully.
"Up for the present," replied the pilot, as he called through the
speaking-tube for the engineer to stop the steamer.
Captain Cayo put his head out of one of the front windows of the
pilot-house, and listened attentively for several minutes. I understood
that he had used the speaking-tube instead of ringing the gong, so that
those on board of the Islander should not hear the sound, as they
might, it was now so still.
"Go ahead," continued the pilot through the tube. "She has headed to
the northward, and we will see what we can do on the same tack."
The pilot headed the Sylvania to the north. I hoped the wind would
breeze up again and carry off the fog; but there was no indication of
it. Our sails made so much noise, flapping and pounding against the
spars, that I was obliged to order all sail taken in. When we had gone
an hour on the present course, the pilot ordered the engineer to stop
her, as before. Washburn and Ben Bowman were on the top-gallant
forecastle, and they listened with all their might. We all did the
same, but we could not catch a sound of any kind. If the Islander had
been within a mile of us we could have heard the clang of her screw.
She had either stopped her engine, or gone off on some other course. We
went ahead again, headed to the north-west.
"We might keep this up all night, and not find her," said Captain Cayo,
disgusted with the situation.
"What had we better do?" I asked.
"We can't do anything. We can't fight against the fog. Are you sure the
Islander will go to New Orleans if we let her alone?"
"I feel reasonably sure of it," I replied. "Captain Blastblow evidently
is not engaged in the conspiracy; and I don't believe Cornwood could
induce him to disregard the instructions of his owner. His course
indicates that he intends to go there, only he seems to be determined
to keep out of the way of the Sylvania."
"I have no doubt Cornwood and Nick Boomsby want to go to New Orleans,"
added the pilot. "I don't see why it won't be just as well to pick them
up there as it will be here."
"But they will not allow themselves to be picked up," I answered. "They
will get ashore as soon as the Islander reaches New Orleans, whether
they get there before or after we do."
"If I wanted to make sure of the rogues, I should get to New Orleans as
quickly as I could."
"We should be sure to get there before the Islander," I added.
"So much the better. When you get there, procure a couple of officers,
and run back down the river till you meet the other steamer. Throw your
officers on board of her, and they will then have no chance to escape.
If we wait here all night, the Islander will make the best of her way
to her destination, while we are waiting for the fog to clear off, and
of course the rogues will put themselves out of sight," said Captain
Cayo.
"I think it is the surer way to run for New Orleans. I don't know that
we need any officers," I replied. "We can run into the Mississippi,
find some place of concealment, and pounce on the Islander when they
least suspect our presence."
"I like that plan still better," replied the pilot.
We agreed upon this course, and the Sylvania was headed for the
South-east Pass of the Mississippi. We gave her full speed, and on
Tuesday afternoon we were off the pass. It was a dull passage. We took
a pilot, and as we had no difficulty in crossing the bar, we were soon
in the river. The whole region was swamps and lagoons, about as
uninteresting as we could expect to find.