CAPTAIN HANNOCK'S PLOT.
The sky was overcast, and Dibble said that a storm was brewing.
"Will it be a bad one?"
"I can't say. Sometimes a little storm outside is a bad one in the
Sound, and then again it's just the opposite. I remember six years ago,
sailing from Boston to Norwalk that we struck a little storm that didn't
look like more than a puff of wind, and yet when we were done with it we
hadn't any main-topmast worth speaking of."
"I should like to see a real storm," I said.
The old sailor shook his head.
"They're nicer to sit by a good fire and read about than to be in. You
never know what to expect. Besides the Spitfire's best days are over."
Presently I saw the captain and Lowell go below together. I was
satisfied that they intended to talk matters over, especially when, a
little later, Crocker was called to join them.
If only I could hear what was said, both about myself and about the plan
to be carried out! By hook or by crook I must get within hearing
distance.
Presently Phil Jones came up the companionway to throw something over
the side. I immediately approached him.
"Say, Phil, do you want to do me a favor?"
"Certainly I do," replied the cabin boy readily. "I'm always ready to do
a favor for any one who stands up before Lowell."
And Phil Jones gave a grin.
In a few words I told him what I wanted, stating that I wished to hear
whatever the trio in the cabin had to say about me.
"Tell you what I'll do," said he. "I'll take you down to the pantry.
There is a door there that connects with the cabin, and by looking
through the keyhole you can see all that is going on, and hear
everything, too."
This just suited me, and under pretext of getting something to eat, I
went aft with him, and was soon within the pantry he had mentioned.
It was not a large place, and I had some difficulty in turning about in
it without knocking down the dishes that it contained. But at last I
felt that I was in a good position, and then after making me promise
not to tell who had let me in if I was discovered, Phil Jones closed the
door and left me to myself.
At first I could see and hear but little, but as I grew accustomed to
the place I discovered the captain, Lowell and Crocker seated around the
cabin table, drinking.
"It's going to be a stormy night, and no mistake," remarked Crocker, as
he helped himself to some more of the liquor that stood on the table.
"Guess you're right," said Lowell. "If it's bad enough we might let the
old tub go down here without going any further."
Captain Hannock shook his head.
"It won't do," he said. "We want her to sink in deep water where the
insurance people can't find her. You must remember that a good part of
the cargo is bogus, and if that was ever found out we wouldn't get a
penny."
"How far do you calculate to sail?" asked Lowell.
"I've been thinking I'd better wait till we're about three days out from
Cape Cod. We can sail a little north of the regular track, and so have
things all our own way."
"Don't go too far," said Crocker. "Remember we've got to get back. Money
won't do us any good if we lose our lives on the ocean."
"Don't get chicken-hearted!" cried the captain angrily.
"I ain't chicken-hearted," replied Crocker. "But what's the use of
taking too much risk?"
"I ain't going to risk being sent to prison for ten years or more,"
cried Captain Hannock, in a rising voice. "If you----"
"Hush, not so loud," put in Lowell. "We don't want any of the others to
know of what's going on. If they did they'd make short work of the three
of us."
"Now don't you get afraid, Lowell. Reckon your row with that boy has
taken the nerve out of you."
Lowell muttered something under his breath.
"I'll fix him yet," he said.
"Don't do it so openly," said Captain Hannock. "If you do, those who see
it may get you into trouble."
"Leave me to manage the affair."
This last remark was followed by a brief spell of silence. What I had
heard interested me greatly. These three men were plotting the
destruction of the Spitfire with a view of getting the insurance on the
vessel and her cargo. How it was to be done I did not know, but I
surmised that they intended to either sink the vessel or burn her up;
perhaps they intended to try both.
While I was yet thinking over what I had heard, and wondering what was
to follow, there came a loud knock on the cabin door, and Tony Dibble
appeared.
"Excuse me, Captain, but the storm is coming up fast from the
southeast," he said, touching his cap.
"Confound you and the storm!" howled Captain Hannock.
"It's getting ready for a heavy blow," added Dibble. "We all thought we
ought to tell you."
"Get to the deck! I know my business. I'll be up when it's necessary."
"Yes, sir."
Touching his hat again Dibble withdrew. The captain brought his fist
down on the table with a bang.
"Dibble knows too much!" he cried. "I wish we had left him behind."
"He's a good sailor," put in Lowell. "Maybe the storm is a bad one."
"Don't croak, Lowell; I know my business."
By this time the glasses were empty, and the three men filled them up
again.
I was considerably alarmed by what Tony Dibble had said. I was sure he
would not have spoken had there not been good cause. If I had not been
so interested in what was going on in the cabin I would have gone on
deck at once.
Yet what followed enchained my attention so deeply that I was glad I
remained.
"Say, Lowell, did you read the letter you took from the lad?" asked the
captain, after he had drained his glass.
"I glanced over it," was the reply. "I didn't have time to read it
through."
"Well, there's a surprise in it."
"What is it?" asked Lowell; and eagerly I bent forward to catch what
might follow.
"The boy is Felix Stillwell's nephew."
"What!"
"It is a fact. You could have knocked me down with a feather," said the
captain. "How he should come on board the Spitfire is the strangest
thing I ever heard of."
"I reckon Stillwell would be mightily surprised if he knew his nephew
was with us," observed Lowell.
"And I reckon you'd treated the lad differently if you'd known who he
was."
And Captain Hannock gave a loud laugh.
This bit of conversation puzzled me not a little. What did these men
know about my uncle? Could it be possible that he had anything to do
with the Spitfire?
I knew that he occasionally made a venture in lumber from down East. On
one occasion I knew him to invest several thousand dollars in a raft
from Maine, although whether it paid or not I never found out.
I had always believed my uncle straightforward and honest, but now,
since receiving the letter from England, my confidence in him was
shaken. He had not treated me rightly, and this being so, who knew where
his wrongdoing ended?
"It don't make a bit of difference if he is the president's son,"
replied Lowell savagely. "I won't allow any boy to square up to me. And
besides, Felix Stillwell is no great friend of mine."
"Nor of me, for the matter of that," said the captain. "But still, we
must keep on the right side of him. Remember he has us where the hair is
short."
"When do I get my pay?" spoke up Crocker, who was fast becoming the
worse for liquor.
"That will be safe, never fear," said the captain, as he staggered to
his feet, "only remember to keep a mum tongue in your head. If any one
hears of our plans they may blow us sky high."
"I'm all right: only--What was that?"
As Crocker asked the last question all sprang to their feet in alarm.
I could have answered the question with ease. My position had become too
cramped for me, and I had tried to change it. In doing so I dislodged
several dishes from the rack, and they fell with a crash to the pantry
floor.
"Some one's spying on us!" cried the captain. "Lowell, see who it is!"