THE ESCAPE
Followed by Widdy, the wealthy lad groped his way along a rather dark
passage. He expected every minute to be greeted by Mr. Blake, or to hear
the lawyer's voice bidding him welcome. Dick was a little surprised that
the attorney had not been out on deck, for the atmosphere below was
anything but refreshing, indicating that the _Princess_ was none too
well ventilated.
"This way, if you please," spoke a voice, and Dick had a glimpse of a
big man, attired in a sailor's suit, holding open a cabin door for him.
The lad, suspecting nothing, was about to enter, but at that moment
there came from Widdy, the old salt who was directly behind him, a snarl
not unlike that of the bulldog Grit, at a sight of Uncle Ezra Larabee.
"Oh, ho! It's you, my fine swab, is it?" cried Widdy, pushing his way
past Dick, and confronting the big sailor. "It's you, is it, an' up to
some of your knavish tricks, I'll be bound! Let me get hold of you, Jake
Shrouder, and I'll pay back some of the scores I owe you! Split my lee
scuppers! I didn't think to find you here! I made sure you was in jail,
if Davy Jones hadn't claimed you! Look out, Mr. Dick!"
And with that Widdy, stumping forward on his wooden leg, made a dive for
the husky sailor, like a man making a tackle on the football field. As
for Shrouder, if that was his name, he seemed to turn pale under his
bronzed skin.
"Widdy! You here!" he gasped, and leaped back, as if to shut himself in
the cabin he had invited Dick to enter.
"Yes, I'm here! What thieving trick are you up to now? Is it to scuttle
the ship, or shanghai somebody? Wait until I get hold of you, with a
belayin' pin in the other hand, an'----"
But Shrouder gave Widdy no chance to reach him. With a muttered
imprecation, he slammed the door shut in the face of the old sailor.
Nothing daunted, Widdy threw himself against it, using his artificial
leg as a battering ram. There was a splintering of wood, and, as the
broken door flew back, Dick saw the large man running through the cabin
toward another portal, which he frantically unlocked.
"What's the matter? What's up?" demanded the young millionaire,
anxiously. "What's wrong, Widdy?"
"Everything, Mr. Dick. Look out for yourself. There's bad business afoot
here, or Jake Shrouder would never be on hand. But I'll get him!"
He stumped forward, swinging his powerful arms to and fro, as if eager
to clasp his enemy in them, but he stumbled, and would have fallen
inside the cabin with the broken door, had not Dick caught him. At the
same time the fleeing man called out:
"The jig's up! Widdy's here!"
"Who's Widdy?" asked a man's voice, and it was followed by confused
shouts.
"Never mind. The jig's up, I tell you! Better get ashore. Cast off the
boat!" yelled the big sailor.
There was the tramp of rapid footsteps on deck. Then came a sound as of
something being dragged along--a scraping of wood on wood.
"Quick!" cried the old sailor to Dick. "They're trying to shut the
hatches on us. We must get on deck!"
Puzzled and alarmed--not knowing what to make of the strange actions of
Widdy, yet vaguely fearing, the lad turned from the cabin, and hastened
toward the companionway down which he had come. As he sprang up it he
saw the young sailor who had told him to go below shoving the hatch
cover over.
"Quit that!" cried Dick. With a quick motion he caught up a coil of rope
that had dropped on the steps, and thrust this into the crack as the man
pushed the cover forward. This prevented it from being closed.
[Illustration: WITH A QUICK MOTION HE CAUGHT UP A COIL OF ROPE, AND
THRUST THIS INTO THE CRACK.--_Page 67._ _Dick Hamilton's Steam Yacht._]
A moment later Widdy was at Dick's side. The old sailor thrust his
gnarled hands into the crack, and, with a wrench, sent the companionway
cover sliding back.
"Hop out!" he called to Dick. "I'll follow."
As the lad reached the deck he saw, disappearing over the side, the
young sailor, and the big one whom Widdy had called Shrouder. They
seemed to be descending into some boat. Dick rushed to the rail. In a
small barge were two men, and it needed but a glance to disclose to the
young millionaire that they were the same two who had stared at him so
persistently the day before, and though Dick did not then know it, they
were the same pair who had followed him in the taxicab. Shrouder and the
other sailor dropped into the barge with them.
"Grab him, Mr. Dick! Grab him!" cried Widdy, as he saw his old enemy
escaping, but Dick did not think it wise to attempt to hold back the
desperate men. A few seconds later the four were pulling away from the
_Princess_ for dear life.
"Well," remarked Dick, drawing a long breath, as though he had just
taken part in a desperate race, "what's this all about, Widdy?"
"About? It's about villainy, that's what it's about, Mr. Dick! Villainy,
and scheming, and black tricks and underhand work and shanghai-games,
and looting and scuttling ships and anything else that's bad--that's
what it is," growled the old seaman, as he stumped to the side, and
shook his fist at the craft containing the four men. Then he filled his
pipe, and began to smoke more calmly.
"We could chase them in the motorboat," suggested Dick, hardly yet
understanding what it was all about.
"What's the use? Shrouder is as slippery as a greased sheet in a hail
storm. Let him go--he won't sleep any the easier to-night from having
met me. But I wish I could have laid my hooks on him," and Widdy opened
and shut his gnarled hands suggestively.
"But I don't understand," said the lad. "Where is Mr. Blake? Why should
those fellows disappear so suddenly? I was to meet the lawyer here, and
look over this boat----"
"Mr. Blake never came here," said Widdy, bluntly. "It's a plant--a
game--to get you on board. I'll wager that note sent to your hotel was
forged."
"But why should they want to get me here?"
"To rob you, most likely. They know you're rich."
"Then that must have been why those two men paid such close attention to
me," decided Dick.
"Of course," agreed the old sailor. "As soon as I clapped eyes on Jake
Shrouder I knew there was something crooked afoot. I've known him for
years--sailed all over in ships with him--and I never knew a piece of
black business afoot anywhere near him that he didn't have his finger
in. I knew there was something wrong as soon as I see him, and that's
why I made a jump for him, but he was too quick for me."
"But who does this yacht belong to?" asked Dick. "We seem to be all
alone on it."
"I hope we are. I don't want to have anything to do with those fellows.
I don't know who owns the craft. Like as not Shrouder has an interest in
her. But let's get ashore, and then we'll call on Mr. Blake and let him
know what's in the wind. It was all a plant, I tell you, to get you
aboard, and then they'd have robbed you."
"But I don't carry much money with me," objected Dick.
"No matter. They'd have found some way to get it out of you, or your
father. But, come on, let's leave this bilge-water craft. Phew! It
hasn't been swabbed out in a month of Sundays."
Stumping to the opposite side of the deck Widdy signaled to the motor
launch at the dock, the owner of it having agreed to come off and take
Dick and the sailor whenever they waved a flag. In a few minutes the two
were speeding down-town toward the lawyer's office, their questioning of
the captain of the launch having resulted in nothing. He had no
knowledge concerning the _Princess_, or the men on her.
As Widdy had surmised, the note purporting to come from Mr. Blake was a
bald forgery, but, since Dick had never seen the attorney's writing, it
was easy enough to deceive him.
"But what was their object?" asked the young millionaire.
"Robbery," decided Mr. Blake.
"But how did they know of my plans to buy a yacht?"
"Oh, easily enough. Talk travels quickly in marine circles in New York,
and I fancy you are more of a public character than you imagine. At any
rate, the men, whoever they are, knew something of your plans, and took
advantage of them to lure you to the yacht, which they either hired for
the purpose, or perhaps own. It was a clever trick, and it was lucky
Widdy recognized that man in time, or you might have been locked in a
cabin, and kept there until they had what they wanted out of you."
"I'm glad I took my sailor friend along," said Dick. "But how about the
_Albatross_? Am I likely to get her?"
"I think so. I will have her examined in a few days, and, if she passes
inspection, I will complete the purchase, and you can arrange about a
captain and crew. Perhaps your old sailor can help you out there."
"That's a good idea. I'll ask him."
It was decided that little good could be accomplished by notifying the
police of the attempt to work harm to Dick, and so no report was made of
it, for our hero disliked the newspaper sensationalism he knew would
follow. Only Mr. Blake warned the young millionaire to be careful of
where he went, and in what company he lingered.
A week passed, during which Dick enjoyed himself in New York. The steam
yacht proved to be all that was claimed for her, and the purchase was
completed.
"You are now the owner of the _Albatross_," said the lawyer to Dick, one
morning, handing him several papers.
"That's great! Now to get a captain, a crew, put coal and provisions
aboard, and set sail."
"For what port?"
"I'm going to Cuba, partly on business and partly for pleasure. Some of
my school chums are going along, and we'll have a good time. And that
reminds me of something. There's a friend of mine in New York, whom I'd
like to have go along with me. He's Tim Muldoon, a former newsboy."
"A newsboy?" and Mr. Blake looked surprised.
"Yes, and one of the truest characters who ever sold a paper. I must
look him up. He's good fun, and will enjoy the trip."
Two days later, the legal formalities all being completed, Dick engaged
the services of Captain Amos Barton, a grizzled veteran of the seas, to
command the _Albatross_, and then the young millionaire returned to
Hamilton Corners.
Captain Barton had agreed to select a small, but competent crew, and he
would also see to putting the yacht in commission. She would be ready
to sail within a week, he stated, and all Dick would have to do would
be to name the port for which he wished the graceful prow pointed.
He consulted his father on this point, and Mr. Hamilton on looking over
his papers learned that the Valdez family formerly lived in Santiago or
Havana, though his lawyers had been unable to get a trace of them at
either place.
"But you might go to Santiago, and then to Havana," suggested Mr.
Hamilton. "You'll have to do some detective work, I fancy. But look out
for those men who tried to trap you."
"Oh, I'll soon be far enough away from them, dad. I'm not worrying.
Besides, they won't try to board us with Widdy on guard. He's a great
character!"
"So I imagine. Well, good luck to you. Do your best, and use your own
judgment. You'll have to depend on yourself from now on. Have you
arranged for your friends to accompany you?"
"Not completely yet, but I will soon."