THE END OF THE RAID
At the beginning of the fight, Hugh wakened from a troubled sleep into
which he had fallen, wearied with fruitless efforts to break the lock
of the door. One thought was ever in his mind, even in his dream:
to escape. For this purpose he had clawed away a wide chink in the
log walls, he had even dug under the threshold---without avail.
Nevertheless, he was glad to be active and thankful that he had been
unbound before his captors went away, leaving him a prisoner in the
shanty until they were ready to release him. Joe Durgan had even
been considerate enough to leave a half loaf of bread and a glass
of beer on the table; but Hugh declined these delicacies.
All during the fight he crouched by the locked door, listening in
alternate hope and dread of the outcome, now and then raising his
voice amid the din and confusion outside. It was perhaps not
strange that none of his friends heard him, for his shouts only
mingled with those of the smugglers and were lost in the general
clamor.
But they were heard by one man, who, though not exactly a friend,
was yet an amiable enemy.
In the midst of the conflict, when the Revenue Service men had
arrived to turn the tide of fortune, the door was quickly opened
and shut, and a man stood in the room, panting hard.
Hugh sprang to his feet, ready for any new emergency.
"What are you-all doin' thar, youngster?" said a voice in the
darkness, a deep voice which Hugh recognized as Durgan's.
"Trying to get out, of course," he replied defiantly, every nerve
in his young body tingling with excitement. "What did you expect
me to do, Durgan?"
"Eh? Oh, nothin'. Thought you might ha' gone to sleep like a good
little boy."
The man's harsh laugh sounded hollow and unpleasant. Hugh shuddered.
"I was asleep," he said, "but when----"
"Real unkind o' your friends to wake you up, eh?" interrupted Durgan.
His hand stole behind him. With a quick turn he opened the door,
and admitted some one. "Come in, Harry," he said. "The kid's here,
all right. What did I tell you?"
"That so?" growled Harry Mole. "Well, we know who he is now.
Somebody tipped off the officers about the run we was goin' to
make to-night; and since it wasn't this kid, it must-a been one of
his bunch. Shall we heave him into the stream, Joe, or leave
him here?"
"Not on your life!" Durgan replied promptly. "He's caught on to too
much about us while he's been here, and he can tell those ginks a
lot that we don't want 'em to know. So's long as we kin get out o'
here alive, we'd better take him along."
"He spoiled our plans to-night. He deserves to be knocked on the
head an' thrown out to the 'gators!"
"Spoilt our plans, you bet! But he'll get his, by-and-by. Come,
take him and hustle away. Cripes! hear them bullets smashin' into
the wall!"
"Remember, kid," said Mole, "if you shout or let out a word, we'll
stick a knife between yer slats."
From the fierce way in which Mole uttered this threat, Hugh did not
doubt he would do as he said. However, he did not yield without
a silent struggle, though he was soon overpowered by the two burly
ruffians. Each taking him by an arm, they led him outside and
dragged him over a stretch of bumpy ground, stumbling along in the
semi-darkness.
Scarcely five minutes after they left the hut and the two burning
shanties behind them, Hugh's friends burst into the empty cabin---too
late to rescue him.
But these young, well-trained scouts lost no time in searching the
place. Separating into pairs---Norton and Mark, Alec and Chester,
with Billy and Dave in advance, following Durgan's and Mole's
trail---they formed a line of communication between the cabin and
the site of the bonfire, hoping that by thus keeping a picket line
they might catch sight of Hugh or his captors beating a hasty
retreat toward the shore.
Meanwhile, Durgan and Mole with Hugh between them walked very fast
indeed. Had they not supported Hugh, he should have fallen several
times; for, young and strong as he was, he was almost worn out with
the rough treatment he had undergone. Every minute he thought they
would stop, and, making an end of their senseless threats, release
him and run. But they evidently had no intention of doing so.
Hugh tried to ascertain in what direction they were leading him,
but he soon gave this up as useless. He was on the verge of despair,
when suddenly out of the gloom came a startlingly familiar call---the
call of the Wolf patrol.
"_Wow-ow-ooo-oooo-hoo-Hugh!_"
It sounded not far away, on his left, and the lad's heart bounded
with joy. He knew that that call could come from none other than
Billy Worth, and Billy must therefore be near at hand, ready to lead
his comrades to Hugh's rescue.
For one wild moment he was tempted to answer the call---then discretion
prevailed, and he kept silence.
Naturally, the two men also were startled at the sound. Mole gave
Hugh a prod in the shoulder with the point of a knife and Durgan
swore volubly.
"None o' that thar, Harry!" he warned. "Don't hurt the kid. If you
do, we'll-----"
"Aw, shut up!" retorted the other, and they hurried on.
By great effort Hugh said nothing, asked no questions, did not even
answer the wolf-call. Instinct told him it would be better to do as
his captors had ordered, and now he pretended to feel resigned to his
fate---knowing that help was forthcoming.
As they went on, sounds of a lively scuffle reached his ears, and he
could also hear the dull booming of surf, by which he knew that he
could be at no great distance from the shore. Behind him, evidently
following, again sounded the wolf-call, giving him courage and renewed
hope.
Durgan turned to him angrily.
"What made you jump when you heard that thar howl?" he demanded.
"Nothing. Where---where are we going?" Hugh ventured to ask, at
length, forgetting that he was not to utter a word of protest. "I'm
dog-tired, and my knee aches---a sprain, I guess."
"You lie!" retorted Mole fiercely, and he struck Hugh across the
mouth.
"You'll soon have time enough to rest yourself, youngster," added
Durgan in a kinder tone. "You're in luck that things ain't no worse
for you."
But Hugh scarcely heard; at any rate, he paid no heed. Boiling
with rage at the insult, he gave one shout: "Billy! This way,
scouts!" and struggling desperately, he managed to slip from his
captors' grasp.
In another minute he had whirled around and was running as fast as
he could put foot to the ground.
To his surprise, Mole and Durgan did not chase him. When he paused
for an instant to rub his bruised knee and to look around, he dimly
saw them in the distance running to a spot where a crowd of men
were pushing and struggling to get into a boat.
Presently he discerned a larger body of men hastening to the place,
and in the dim light of the moon he saw that they were soldiers and
seamen.
While he stood lost in wonderment, Uncertain where to go, he heard
footsteps and familiar voices near. He gave the call of his old
patrol, and Billy answered it immediately.
The next minute, Billy rushed into view, and the two chums were
reunited in a vigorous bear-hug of sheer, silent rejoicing. They
found words at last.
"Billy, old scout, I was beginning to think I might never see you
again!"
"You were? Why, Hugh, I'd have looked for you from here to Yucatan
and back again, twenty times over, by sea and land, before I'd give
up!" cried Billy, forgetting in his enthusiasm how near he had come
to the verge of despair.
"I'm dying to know whatever happened to you," he added. "But here
come the rest of the bunch; so you'll have to tell all of us your
story."
"It's soon told," said Hugh; and after joyful greetings had been
exchanged, he told them all that had happened to him since his
unlucky morning stroll to the hut on the far-away beach.
In their turn, they related the events of their search for him, and
described the fight around the cabin in which he had so lately been a
prisoner.
"And there's the end of the fight now," said Norton, pointing to
the group of combatants and to a boat manned by five oarsmen who
were putting out to sea. "Look! There they go!---all of them
who managed to escape No! By Jove, the boat's coming back to
shore! I suppose Uncle Sam's men threatened to shoot the rascals
if they didn't come back."
"Serves 'em right!" said Chester.
"Let's go over there and watch proceedings," urged Alec.
"I second the motion!" Hugh declared, eager to see the latest
developments.
So without further discussion, they hurried over to the place, and
were in time to witness the capture of Bego and his gang.
* * * * * * *
By morning, a sullen company of prisoners was put aboard the _Petrel_
and conveyed southward to Key West for trial.
The interval between their capture and the departure of the revenue
cutter was spent in putting out the fire near Durgan's cove, all
that remained of the three adjoining shanties being a heap of
charred logs and wind-swept ashes. Durgan's motor boat was fastened
by means of a long cable to the aft rail of the _Arrow_, which
was commissioned to tow it to a wharf at Charlotte Harbor, where
it would be delivered to a brother of the smuggler. This brother,
a thoroughly honest fisherman, was well known to Captain Vinton.
Bego's ship, the _Esperanza_, remained at anchor off the cove.
Arrangements were made for its safe delivery at Charlotte Harbor,
as soon as a suitable crew could be sent to convey it to that haven.
Hoping that his presence might not be required at the trial, though
fully resigned to the probability of having to attend it, Hugh wrote
out and signed a full statement of his experiences with the outlaws.
This paper was also signed by Norton, Captain Vinton, and Lieutenant
Driscoll, as testifying their belief in its veracity. The captain
of the _Petrel_ undertook to deliver it to the proper authorities,
and it was eventually accepted in lieu of Hugh's personal testimony.
Having attended to these matters, the crew of the _Arrow_ went
aboard about noon. The day was perfect for the return voyage, a fair
breeze blew against her weather-stained sails, and the ocean was as
blue as sapphire.
The entire party was glad to be on the sloop's clean decks once more;
even Dave seemed happy and relieved when Durgan's Cove and its
outlying shores faded into a velvety green blur along the horizon.
So they left the scene of their adventures, and glided swiftly away
"on the home stretch," as Chester called it, under cloudless skies.