NED, CAST AWAY.
But as Herc and Herr Muller crashed floorward together a rush of
footsteps came down the companionway stairs. The shot that had
destroyed the sending key of the sloop's wireless had been heard on
deck. Rescue was at hand for the two scoundrels who had been overborne
by the Dreadnought Boys.
Before hands could be laid on Herc, however, the freckle-faced youth
had banged his fists twice into Herr Muller's face. He raised his hand
for a third blow when a sharp pain shot through him, and he sank back
with a groan of helpless pain. Something had flashed in the anarchist's
hand for an instant and had buried itself in Herc's side.
"Ned! Ned!" cried the lad in accents of shrill alarm, "the fellow's
stabbed me."
With a superhuman effort, Ned flung Merritt's arms from him and dashed
across the cabin. Herr Muller had struggled to his feet. He rose just
in time to be spun clear across the cabin by the infuriated Dreadnought
Boy. Such was the force in Ned's righteously indignant blow, that
before the anarchist leader ceased spinning, he crashed clear through a
wooden panel.
"Herc, old fellow!" cried Ned, sinking to his knees beside his comrade,
"are you badly hurt?"
"I--I--I'm all right, old chap. Save the ships!" mumbled Herc and his
eyes closed. The freckled face grew fearfully white.
Before any of the excited crew could lay a hand on him Ned picked up
Herc as if he had been a child, and began backing toward one of the
cabin doors with him.
"You scoundrels will pay dear for this!" he shouted angrily as he went
out.
Paralyzed for the time being by the lightning-like rapidity of events,
not one of the men made a move just then. Ned bore Herc into the cabin
unmolested. Chance, leaning on one elbow, was lying in the lower bunk.
His head was bandaged, but Ned tumbled him out by the scruff of his
neck.
"Out of that, you traitor!" he shouted, "and make room for a real
man-o'-war's-man."
While Chance, still weak from the effects of his blow, tottered about
the cabin, Ned laid Herc on the bunk as gently as a woman might have
done with an infant. Herc opened his eyes and smiled up at his shipmate.
"Thanks, old fellow," he breathed, "I--I'm all right. You----"
He lapsed into unconsciousness once more.
Ned ripped his shirt open with a quick movement. With another he tore
it into sheds and bandaged the wound in the lad's side. Luckily, in the
struggle, Herr Muller's aim had not been good, and the knife thrust was
little more than a flesh wound, extending up under Herc's armpit. But
the pain was considerable.
Ned had hardly finished his work before the men outside came out of
their half-stunned period of inaction. Headed by Merritt, they charged
at the cabin. Ned sprang for the door to close and lock it against
them, but Chance was too quick for him. The fellow had been leaning
back against the bulkhead. As Ned swept forward he extended his foot,
and the Dreadnought Boy came to the floor in a heap. In another instant
they were all piled on him. Ned struck out furiously.
His blows were driven by steel-plated muscles, but they had little
effect on the sprawling mass of humanity piled above him. Before many
minutes had passed Ned was a prisoner, tied and bound as securely as
Herc had been when he was carried on board.
To his surprise, no violence was attempted by his captors. They worked
in grim silence. Ned wondered vaguely what was going to happen to him.
In his dazed state he didn't much care. Under Herr Muller's orders the
lad was roughly thrust into the wireless room and the door locked upon
him.
While this was being done he noted with satisfaction that upon the
faces of both Herr Muller and Merritt sundry large, angry-looking
swellings were beginning to obtrude themselves like purple plums.
"At any rate, I've spoiled Merritt's beauty for him," thought Ned with
a grim satisfaction.
He was left unmolested in his prison place for what seemed hours.
Finally, after an interminable period, he began to notice that the
rough rolling motion of the sloop had ceased. Had the sea gone down, or
were they at anchor in some sheltered haven, he wondered. He was not to
be long in doubt.
The door was flung open. Merritt, Kennell and Muller entered. At a word
from Muller the powerless Ned was shoved and half carried through the
portal. Then he was propelled up the companionway stairs.
"Are they going to chuck me overboard?" he found himself wondering.
A swift glance showed him that the sloop was anchored in a small bay.
The sky was clear and a bright moon showed the surroundings to be sand
dunes and desolate barrens.
"Is the boat ready?" he heard Muller ask.
From over side, where the sloop's dinghy was floating, came a response
in the affirmative. The next instant Ned found himself tumbled from
the sloop's low side into the small craft. The fall bruised him
considerably, but if his captors had expected him to make any outcry
they were deceived. He uttered no word of complaint, although, what
with the tightness of his bonds and the jouncing his fall had given
him, he was in considerable pain.
Herr Muller, Chance, Merritt and Kennell dropped into the boat after
him, taking the places of the two men who had unlimbered it from the
stern davits.
Evidently their plans had been prearranged, for Chance and Merritt
fell to the oars without uttering a word. Muller and Kennell, grim and
silent, sat in the stern.
It was a short row to the shore, and presently the bow of the boat
grated on a sandy beach.
"Chuck him out!" growled Herr Muller.
Ned was tumbled unceremoniously out on the sands. In the moonlight
he could see that the men in the boat were keeping him covered with
pistols. Muller leaped out by his side.
"Keep him covered while I cut him loose," Ned heard Muller grate out.
The anarchist bent over him and severed his bonds.
"What on earth is he doing that for?" wondered Ned. But he was duly
grateful as he felt his limbs free once more.
The task of cutting the ropes completed, Herr Muller lost no time in
jumping back into the boat. But he need not have feared Ned, the lad
was too stiff and sore to do more than feebly stretch his limbs. As
soon as Muller was on board, Chance and Merritt laid hold of the bow
of the boat and shoved off. They leaped nimbly on board as the little
craft floated.
As they fell to their oars Muller stood up in the stern and shouted
something back at Ned. The boy could not catch all of it, but he was to
realize its import before long. All his ears could get of the message
was something about "Island--rot there!"
Then came the rhythmic splash of oars as the boat was pulled swiftly
back to the sloop. After a while Ned, although the effort made his
cramped limbs wince, managed to get to his feet. He was just in time to
see the sails of the sloop being hoisted and the little vessel, as they
filled, stagger and move out toward the open sea once more.
"And poor Herc, wounded and alone, is on board her," was Ned's bitter
thought; "but, thank goodness," he murmured the next instant, "I'm
on land and free, and it won't be long before I find some means of
running down that sloop."
He sat down and chafed his ankles and wrists, and after a while was
able to move about freely. As soon as he did so he struck off across
the sandy dunes on which he had been set ashore. A few minutes of
walking brought him to a broad arm of water. It flowed swiftly under
the moonlight.
A sudden flash of fear shot through Ned. He gave a slight shiver as an
alarming idea shot through his mind. But he shook off his presentiment
and struck out once more. It was not till he had made the third circuit
of the shifting, grass-grown dunes that he realized, with a flash of
horror, the bitter truth of his situation.
The inexplicable fact of his freedom and of his bonds being cast off
was fully explained now.
Herr Muller had marooned the lad on a desolate island. It was cut off
from the shore by a swift flowing arm of water, its current so broad
and so rapid that even such a strong swimmer as Ned did not dare trust
himself to try to cross it.
By a stern effort of will Ned repressed a desire to cry aloud. Was this
to be his destiny? To perish on a sandy islet off the Atlantic Coast,
while the sloop forged ahead on her errand of destruction?