ON BOARD THE 'THREE SPIRES'
When the boat was well out from the shore its nose was turned, and it
began to drop at an easy pace down the river. In cover of the bank
Chippy was sculling his best. He had seen how the warehouse was
robbed; he meant to see where the plunder was taken.
Beyond Elliotts' warehouse there were only two or three scattered
buildings, and then the river-shore stretched away empty and deserted.
For nearly a mile the men pulled steadily down, and left Chippy a long
way behind. But the night was brightening fast; the moon was coming
up, and he could see the dark spot upon the water which meant the
gliding boat laden with plunder.
Then the boat turned and came towards the shore on the scout's side.
It crossed his line of sight, and disappeared as if into the bank.
'Gone up Fuller's Creek,' said Chippy to himself, and sculled harder
than ever. Fuller's Creek was a wide, deep backwater, never used
nowadays for any active purpose, though occasionally an old hulk was
towed there, and left to rot. Chippy supposed that his men had pulled
up to the very top of the creek, where there was a deserted
landing-stage, and he put all the strength of his wiry frame into
driving his boat down to the creek and up it as hard as he could go.
He entered the broad, dark water-mouth, for the moon was not yet
shining into the creek, and sculled into its shadow. Half-way up, a
dark bulk loomed high in his path, and he swung the nose of his craft
to port, to pass round the _Three Spires_, an old barquentine left to
rot in Fuller's Creek out of the way of the river traffic.
The _Three Spires_, named from the three chief churches of the town,
whose steeples rose high above the roofs of Bardon, was a broad, roomy
old craft, and had carried many a good cargo in her time. But she was
now past her work, and, her spars, rigging, and raffle all torn away,
her hulk lay abandoned in Fuller's Creek, for the breakers-up did not
want her.
It was mere luck that Chippy threw his skiff's nose over to port, for
he was bearing straight for the Three Spires as she lay end on, and
port or starboard was all one in point of distance as regarded sculling
round her. But he threw his bow over to port, and thereby made a
striking discovery. For beside the great bulk lay a small bulk, and
the latter was a boat swinging to the shattered taffrail of the _Three
Spires_ by her painter. Chippy checked his way, and the two boats
floated side by side on the quiet, dark backwater, with the hull of the
deserted barquentine towering above them against the sky.
Chippy threw out a long breath of immense surprise. 'They ain't gone
on to the stage,' he thought. 'They're here. They're on this old un.
This is their boat.' He heard movements on board the barquentine, and
he sculled a few swift strokes which sent him forward under the thick
shadow of her broad stern, where he checked her way again.
The sounds were those of men who scrambled up her forward companion,
and at the next moment Chippy's cars told him that they had approached
the side of the Teasel, and one was swinging himself into the boat.
'This is the last,' he heard a voice say. 'We'll get it down, and have
a look at what you've picked out this time.'
'One knows what's in the bundles; t'other don't,' reflected Chippy.
'They mean to open 'em. That'll keep 'em busy a bit.'
He waited until his ears assured him that the men had gone down the
companion again, then sculled back to the point where their boat
floated below the port taffrail. This was the only point at which the
deck of the vessel could be gained. The _Three Spires_ lay on the mud,
heeled over to port, and everywhere else her sides were high, smooth,
and unclimbable.
And now Chippy made a mistake--a great scouting mistake: he did too
much; and the scout who does too much blunders just as surely as he who
does too little. Had Chippy sculled quietly away with the ample
information he had already gained, the thieves might have been taken
red-handed. But he burned to put, as he thought, a finishing touch to
his night's work. He wanted to see what was going on in the forepeak
of the _Three Spires_, and he wanted to see the faces of the men; it
was almost certain that he would recognise people so familiar with Quay
Flat and Elliotts' warehouse. He took the painter of his tiny craft,
and threw two easy half-hitches round the painter of the large boat.
He could cast his rope loose in a second, and it would be ample hold to
keep his craft from drifting away. He laid the sweep where it would be
ready to his hand if he had to make a rush, then swung himself up to
the taffrail by the rope which the thieves had fastened there for their
own use.
'They're forward,' murmured Chippy to himself, and crept without a
sound along the slanting deck. His stockings were still in his
pockets; his boots he had left in the skiff.
The companion-hatch was broken, and the men had gone up and down
through the hole which yawned above the steps. To this gap Chippy
crept, and thrust his head forward inch by inch until he was looking
into the deserted forecastle. He saw the men at once. They were
almost directly beneath him, kneeling on the floor, while one was
deftly slipping the cord which bound one of the stolen bales.
Chippy scarcely dared to breathe when he saw how close he was to the
thieves. 'If I could only get a look at 'em, I'd 'ook it,' he thought
to himself, and waited for their faces to be shown in the shine of the
lantern, whose slide was partly turned to give them light. But one
held the lantern while the other opened the bale, and the light showed
no more of them than the worker's hands, the latter tattooed like those
of a seaman.
Suddenly the scene changed with magic swiftness, and the pursuer became
the pursued. It happened simply enough. The man unfolding the bale
asked his companion a question. His voice was pitched in so low a
murmur that Chippy did not catch what was said, but he heard the second
man's reply. 'No, I 'ain't got it,' said he who held the lantern.
'Then we've left it in the boat,' rejoined the first speaker in louder
tones; and he sprang to his feet and shot up the crazy steps of the
companion as nimbly as a cat.
It was so swift, so sudden, that the man was out on the deck before the
scout, stretched at full length beside the companion-hatch, could get
to his feet. The man slipped along the deck as smartly as he had
swarmed up the companion, and Chippy was clean cut on from his boat.
What could he do? Nothing but sit tight and hope that his boat would
not be discovered in the gloom of the barquentine's shadow. Vain hope.
Scarce had it been formed than a savage growl of anger and surprise
broke the silence. His boat was discovered.
The man below heard his companion's cry. The dullest would have read
warning in it. He leapt to his feet, and bounded up the companion in
turn.
'Anything wrong?' he called in low tones.
'Here's another boat,' said the other.
'Another boat!' murmured the second thief, and scrambled swiftly along
the deck, and thrust his head over the side.
The two men were thunderstruck. A second boat! That meant someone
abroad of whose presence they had not dreamed.
'Was it there when we came?' asked the second man.
'Not it,' replied the discoverer; 'the painter's made fast round ours.'
'Then, whoever came in that boat is aboard now,' went on his companion,
'an' we've been spied on an' followed.'
'It's a little boat. There can only be one,' said the other.
'Stand by the boat,' said the man aboard. 'I'll settle the spy.' And
he clinched his words with a dreadful oath.
'Don't go too far,' said the man in the boat, who was a more timorous
fellow.
'Too far!' growled the other. 'It's sink or swim with us now. There's
somebody on this old barky as is fly to our little game, an' his mouth
has got to be stopped. Wait; stave his boat in, and you keep in ours.
Stave it in now while I'm here. He won't run away.' And again the
desperate thief broke into a volley of savage imprecations.
Chippy had heard all this, and recognised how true was the last
assertion of the infuriated rogue. There was no running away from the
barquentine. No prison surer while his boat was in their hands. And
at the next moment there was a crash of boat-hook on wooden plank.
Three blows were struck. The little boat was not new, and its timbers
gave easily. Three planks were staved in; it filled and sank.
'It's gone,' said the man in the boat; and his companion turned to
search for him who had approached the barquentine in it.
Chippy had left the companion and darted forward while they talked.
The sounds of the planks going in his boat told him that his case was
desperate; his retreat was cut off. He found the stump of the
foremast, and crouched behind it, and lay still. Twice the man in
search of him crept round the vessel in the darkness, and Chippy
shifted noiselessly from side to side as he passed.
There were movements aft, and suddenly a flood of light streamed along
the deck. The searcher had fetched up the lantern, regardless of the
chances of the light being seen ashore, and flung its full blaze
forward.
The slide was turned at the lucky moment for the rogue who held it.
Chippy stood beside the foremast, one hand laid on it, his head bent
and listening for any sound. The ring of light fell full upon him, and
the desperate ruffian gave a growl of satisfaction when he saw his prey.