A YANKEE TRICK.
It had been the custom of the Club, during their sojourn under Mr.
Wilbur’s roof, to pass the hours that intervened between dark and
bedtime on the veranda, singing songs, or listening to the stories of
one of the sheep-herders. It was to be Fowler’s business to separate
Walter from his companions, and, under pretence of telling him something
that it was very important he should know, conduct him down a shaded
lane a short distance from the house. Bob was to be concealed somewhere
along the route, and when they passed his ambush he was to jump out,
collar them both (for reasons of his own Fowler wished to have it appear
that he was in no way connected with the plot), and march them down to
the river-bank, where the boat was waiting for them.
The Club, who had gone off somewhere on purpose to be rid of the young
Englishman, were absent so long that Fowler began to be very uneasy,
fearing that they might stay until so late an hour that it would be
impossible for him to carry out his part of the programme. But they came
shortly after dark, to the clerk’s great relief, and after disposing of
a hearty supper gathered on the veranda as usual. Fowler had more
difficulty in persuading Walter to “take a walk” with him than he had
anticipated. The captain’s nephew had taken a great dislike to the
clerk, for some reason, and wanted little to do with him; but he yielded
at last, and Fowler took him by the arm and led him toward the lane.
As bad luck would have it, they encountered Archie Winters, who was also
out for an after-supper stroll. On Walter’s invitation he joined the two
and walked with them. This did not suit Fowler. It was a larger party
than he had bargained for. Bob had but two hands, and Fowler did not see
how he could manage three persons with them. Either Walter or Archie
might elude his grasp and slip away in the darkness, and that would be a
misfortune. As soon as he had made good his escape he would go straight
to the house, tell what had been going on in the lane, and that would
lead to an investigation which would probably result in the discovery of
the fact that the schooner was missing. That was a matter that must be
kept secret as long as possible, in order to give the managers a good
long start. After thinking over these points for a few minutes, the
clerk turned and went back up the lane again with Walter, paying no
further attention to the movements of Archie, who, he hoped, would soon
get tired of his walk, and leave the coast clear for him.
“I don’t want to speak in the presence of a third party,” said Fowler.
“We’ll come back as soon as Archie goes away.”
“Why not tell me now?” asked Walter. “We are alone.”
“I know, but it is a long story, and it will take me half an hour to go
into all the details.”
“Oh, let it go till morning then. I am too tired to spend half an hour
more in walking.”
“Perhaps I can tell it in ten or fifteen minutes,” said Fowler.
“Let it go until morning,” repeated Walter.
“But it is about an attempt to rob your safe while you were gone.”
“Nonsense!”
“I assure you it is a fact, upon my word and honor as a gentleman. I
found it out by the merest accident.”
“Then why didn’t one of the mates speak about it?”
“Because they were in the plot,” replied the clerk, sinking his voice
almost to a whisper. “I’ll take you to that boat with me if I have to
carry you under my arm,” he added, mentally.
“Fowler!” exclaimed Walter, turning upon him almost fiercely, “do you
want me to—” Walter finished the sentence by pushing up his coat
sleeves. “Do you? If you don’t, don’t let me hear you say another word
against Mr. Baldwin or Mr. Parker. My uncle would trust them with the
key of his safe as readily as he trusts me with it. They’re honest, and
that’s more than I think you are.”
Walter’s leavetaking was so very abrupt and unceremonious that Fowler
could have made no attempt to detain him, even had he felt so disposed.
But he did not want to make the attempt. He stood silent and motionless
where Walter left him, and saw the latter join the merry group on the
veranda. Presently they all arose from their seats and went into the
house. It was well for Fowler that he let him go, for the wiry young
paymaster could have tossed him over the nearest fence with almost as
much ease as Fowler himself could tell a lie.
Being disappointed in his attempts to make a prisoner of Walter, the
consul’s clerk began to think of himself. He ran down the river-bank,
and presently reached the spot where Bob and the other convict were
keeping guard over somebody in a Panama hat and black suit, who was
seated in the stern of the boat.
“Is that you, Fowler?” demanded the ticket-of-leave man, impatiently. “I
was just going to push off. I have waited for you long enough. I caught
this fellow half an hour ago.”
“This fellow? What fellow?” demanded the clerk.
“Why, the paymaster, of course. Who else did I want to catch? I saw him
going along the lane, so I just jumped out and nabbed him.”
“Oh,” exclaimed Archie, for he it was who was seated in the stern of the
boat. “I wondered what you could want of me. Seeing that I am not the
fellow you’re after, you’ll let me go, won’t you?”
“Winters!” cried the clerk, in great amazement. “Now you have made a
mess of it, Bob. You’ve grabbed the wrong chap.”
“Jump in here,” replied the ticket-of-leave man, seizing the bow of the
boat preparatory to shoving off. “I know just what I’ve done. I got
orders from Waters.”
“But I tell you that you don’t know what you’ve done. I left the
paymaster and saw him go into the house not ten minutes ago,” insisted
Fowler. “This fellow is of no use to us.”
“Not a bit,” chimed in Archie. “If money is what you’re after I can’t
help you to a guinea. I am dead broke.”
The ticket-of-leave man let go of the boat, and straightening up looked
first at his fellow-convict and then at Fowler. “Well it’s his own
fault,” said he, after thinking a moment. “He had no business to have
them clothes and that hat on. What shall we do with him?”
“Let me go,” said Archie. “That’s all you can do with me.”
“Not by a long shot we won’t let you go,” replied the ticket-of-leave
man. “You’d talk too much when you got back to your friends. If I only
had a piece of rope, I’d tie him and leave him out in the bushes with
the others; but I ain’t got it. He’ll have to go with us; there’s no
other way. Jump in, Fowler. We’ve wasted too much time already. The
schooner must be a mile or two outside.”
Fowler picked up one of the oars, Bob and the other convict, having
pushed the boat away from the shore, sprang in and picked up two more,
while Archie, in obedience to orders, laid hold of the tiller ropes. He
did not remonstrate with his captors, for his past experience had taught
him that in circumstances like these words were useless. He devoted his
whole attention to steering the boat and looking out for the schooner.
They found her a mile outside of the mouth of the river, lying to and
waiting for them. Waters stormed a little at Fowler because so much
precious time had been wasted, and looked as though he wanted to swear
when he found that Bob had captured Archie instead of the paymaster; but
a few words from the ticket-of-leave man smoothed his ruffled temper,
and Archie was ordered below under guard.
This is the version of the story which Waters told Frank that night
during the latter’s watch. When it was finished the young captain said:
“I don’t see that you need Walter at all. You say that Bob is
experienced in such matters, and that he can easily work his way into
that safe with a hammer and a cold chisel.”
“I know that,” replied Waters, “and I know another thing, too: when
folks travel in this way, they generally carry their money in bills of
credit.”
“Well, what of it?” said Frank.
“Well,” repeated Waters, “we wanted the paymaster to get them cashed for
us.”
“He wouldn’t have done it.”
“I think he would. You could have made him do it easy enough.”
“And do you imagine that I would use my influence to induce him to turn
his uncle’s money over to you?”
“I do think just that. You’d do it sooner than see me raise a racket
like I did once aboard this very vessel, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t like
to have me reach for you, would you?”
“Oho!” exclaimed Frank. “Then it appears that you intended to make use
of me in two different ways. Besides making me act as captain of the
schooner, you were going to hold me as a sort of hostage to compel
Walter to do as you wanted him to do.”
“That’s about the way I fixed it up in my own mind,” said Waters.
“If you intended to work on the paymaster’s feelings in that way, you
ought to have captured his brother,” said Frank. “That would have been
the surer way.”
“Never mind that. I know all about you and him too. You saved Eugene’s
life, and helped Walter out of the worst scrape he ever got into, and
they and their old uncle would give you the schooner if you asked for
it. The paymaster would do anything before he would see harm come to
you.”
By this time it was twelve o’clock. Frank called his cousin, and after
he had seen the watch relieved, he went below and tumbled in bed. He was
too excited to sleep much, and at the first peep of day he was up and
dressed. The first object on which his eyes rested as he stepped out of
his stateroom, was Waters’s burly form stretched out in front of the
cabin door. “He meant that I shouldn’t go on deck without waking him,”
thought Frank. “It is anything but agreeable to know that I can’t move
unless this ruffian is at my side.”
Frank seized the man by the shoulder and shook him roughly, intending to
tell him, when he awoke, that it was time he was going on deck to see
how things were working there; but the giant only breathed the harder,
and rolled from side to side on his mattress without once opening his
eyes. After spending five minutes in the vain effort to arouse him,
Frank opened the door, stepped over the prostrate figure and ascended to
the deck. They were alone on the deep. The schooner was bowling along
before a fine breeze, and there was not a sail in sight. Archie was
walking up and down in the waist with his hands in his pockets, and the
ticket-of-leave-man stood leaning against the rail close by, keeping
guard over him.
“How long has that man been at the wheel?” asked the young captain.
“Since three o’clock,” answered Archie. “I stood there myself until I
got so sleepy that I couldn’t hold her steady.”
Frank went aft to relieve the helmsman, who was one of the Stranger’s
crew. As he laid his hand upon the wheel the sailor saluted him
respectfully, but Frank paid no sort of attention to him. The man seemed
hurt by this direct cut. He glanced toward the waist, and seeing that
the eyes of Archie’s keeper were fastened upon him, he turned and
pointed over the stern towards the horizon, where a faint cloud of smoke
marked the path of a steamer.
“That may be a man-o’-war, sir,” said he, in a low tone, “but that ain’t
what I want to say to you. I’d give everything that’s coming to me from
this schooner if she was back where she belongs.”
“I wish she was there, too,” said Frank.
“We’re all sick of our bargain, sir, and we don’t see how we come to do
it,” continued the sailor, still pointing toward the cloud of smoke in
order to make Archie’s guard believe that he was talking about the
steamer in the distance. “If you want to take the ship, sir, we’ll all
stand by you if we lose our lives by it.”
“I don’t want to take the ship.”
“You’re afraid to trust us, ain’t you, sir?”
“Yes, I am. Men who will prove unfaithful once, will do so again.”
“What’s going on there between you two?” demanded the ticket-of-leave
man, suddenly.
“There’s a steamer over there,” replied Frank, “and Brown says it may be
a man-of-war.”
“Well, when he gets through saying it he’d better get away from there,”
returned Bob.
The man went, and Frank kept his place at the wheel until breakfast was
ready. All that morning he waited and watched for an opportunity to say
a word to Archie in private, but none was offered until after he had
taken his observation at noon. While he was busy with his chart, Archie
came into the cabin, apparently for the purpose of changing his coat,
but really to exchange a word or two with his cousin. He went into his
stateroom, pulled off the coat he had on, and came out with the other in
his hand.
“I have found out something,” said he, in a low tone, as he bent down
and looked over Frank’s shoulder.
The young captain glanced up hastily and saw that Waters was standing on
the quarter-deck, watching them closely through the open skylights. To
disarm the man’s suspicions, if he had any, Frank caught up his parallel
ruler, and began moving it about over the chart as if he were working
out a course.
“Be careful,” he whispered, earnestly. “Don’t look up. Waters has his
eyes on us. What have you found out?”
“That all our men are sorry for what they have done, and are ready to
make amends for it. Bob doesn’t watch me as closely as Waters does you,
and so I have had three or four chances to talk with them.”
“I wouldn’t trust them,” said Frank; and then he made some figures on a
slip of paper and handed it over to Archie, who examined it with a great
show of interest.
“I’ve found out another thing, too,” added Archie, shaking his head as
he handed the paper back, as if to imply that his cousin’s calculations
were not correct, “and that is, that Waters sleeps like a log. I was in
the cabin three times last night, and the first time I came in I
stumbled over him before I saw him and fell flat; but the noise I made
never awoke him.”
“I know he sleeps soundly,” returned Frank. “Now, Archie, let me say”—
“And another thing,” interrupted Archie, earnestly, “there are two
loaded revolvers in Uncle Dick’s bunk, under the foot of the mattress,
that these fellows don’t know anything about. I was pretty certain they
were there, so I went in last night and satisfied myself.”
“Let them stay there,” replied Frank. “They are of no use to us. Now,
Archie, while I have the chance, I want to tell you that I shall make no
attempt to take the vessel out of the hands of these scoundrels. As far
as I am concerned, I am ready for anything; but if danger should befall
you through me, what should I say to your father and mother when I get
home? I am responsible for you, in a certain sense, and I wish with all
my heart that you were safe ashore.”
“Do you take me for a little boy?” whispered Archie, almost indignantly.
“I am almost as old as you are, and I want you to understand that I am
able to take care of myself. You are not responsible for me in any way.
You may be glad that I am here before this voyage is ended.”
“What you two fellows talking about down there?” demanded Waters. “Your
heads are almost too close together to suit me. You had better come up
here, my little man.”
“It is his watch below,” said Frank, “I belong on deck myself.”
“Come up here, then.”
“I will as soon as I get through.”
“Then let the little one go to bed,” exclaimed Waters, in a louder tone,
which showed that he was getting angry; “I want you two apart; and if
you don’t get apart pretty quick I’ll come down there and separate you.”
Archie went into his stateroom, and closed the door behind him, while
Frank, having completed his calculations, ran up the ladder, and took
charge of the deck.
During the day everything passed off smoothly. The crew were obedient
and prompt, and the schooner was as well sailed as she would have been
had her lawful captain been on her quarter-deck. Just before dark some
interest was excited among those on board by the discovery of a large
steamer, which appeared to be following in their wake. Frank watched her
through his glass until the night shut her out from his view.
“Can you make her out?” asked Waters.
“No, I cannot,” answered Frank. “She is too far off.”
“Brown says she looks rather suspicious.”
“Well, he’s an old sailor, and ought to be able to tell a man-o’-war
from a merchantman, even at that distance.”
“If she is following us, what time will she come up with us?”
“About midnight, perhaps, if this wind holds.”
“Then look out for fun,” exclaimed Waters, striking his open palm with
his clenched hand. “We’ve all got two revolvers apiece; we’ve got all
the muskets belonging to the schooner piled up in the cabin, where we
can get our hands upon them at a moment’s notice; and,” he added,
jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the twenty-four pounder,
“Brown says you’re the best fellow to work these guns that he ever saw.”
“I have had some experience with them,” said Frank.
“We’ll give the man-hunters a lively tussle,” added the convict.
“What will be the use of that?” asked Frank. “If you beat off her boats
when she sends them out to board us, she’ll open on us with her big guns
and sink us.”
“No matter. We’d sooner she’d do that than take us back. But ’spose now,
captain, that you knew that steamer was a war vessel, and that you was a
smuggler or something, who had reasons for keeping out of her way, what
would you do?”
“I should wait until it was pitch dark, and then I’d put out all lights,
come about, and sail right back to meet her,” said Frank, who had
already made up his mind that it would be better to put this plan into
operation than to risk a battle with the steamer if she should prove to
be a man-of-war. He knew that the convicts would fight desperately
before they would permit themselves to be taken back. Of course they
would be beaten and overpowered, as they deserved to be, but what would
become of himself and Archie in the meantime? How would the beautiful
little Stranger look after a broadside from the man-of-war? “I should,
of course, pass her at such a distance that she wouldn’t discover me,”
added Frank, “and at daylight we would be out of sight of each other.”
“That’s a regular Yankee trick,” exclaimed Waters. “Don’t you think you
had better try it?”
The young captain thought he had, and he did. The ruse was entirely
successful. They passed the steamer a little after eleven o’clock. They
could see the lights at her catheads, and hear the pounding of her
paddle-wheels, but their own vessel was invisible in the darkness. There
were no lamps to betray her to the watchful eyes of the steamer’s
lookout, for those in the cabin were shut out from view by a tarpaulin
which was thrown over the skylights, and the one in the binnacle threw
out only sufficient light to show the face of the compass. Waters
questioned the sailors, and they told him that the vessel was
undoubtedly a man-of-war. She showed too few lights for a passenger
steamer. Waters breathed easier when she was out of sight.
“Captain,” he exclaimed, taking Frank’s hand in his own, and giving it a
hearty gripe and shake, “if I had a thousand pounds of my own I’d as
soon give it to you as not. It takes Yankees to do things, after all.”
“That’s a fact,” said Archie. “We whipped you English gentlemen twice,
and we can do it again.”
Archie’s pert speeches seemed to afford the giant a world of amusement.
“Did you have a hand in it, my little man?” he asked, with a laugh.
“No,” replied Archie, slowly, “I didn’t. There was one little thing that
prevented me—a very little thing, and I have always been sorry for it.”
“What was that?” asked Waters.
“I wasn’t born.”
Everybody roared except Fowler, and he was angry.
Frank remained on deck till midnight, and then believing that all danger
of discovery had passed, he told Archie to have the tarpaulin removed
from the skylights, to send one watch below, and then go to bed himself.
“You go to bed,” replied Archie. “I am not at all sleepy, and I might as
well stay on deck as to roll about in my bunk for six hours. As for that
tarpaulin—if it will suit you as well, I will leave it where it is.”
“Why do you want to do that? It will be more cheerful with a little more
light on deck.”
“That’s just what’s the matter. I don’t want more light on deck.”
His cousin told him to do as he pleased about it, and having seen one of
the watches sent below, he went into the cabin, and lay down on his
bunk. It seemed to him that he had scarcely closed his eyes in sleep
when a hand was laid softly on his shoulder. He started up quickly, and
saw Archie standing by the side of his bunk with his finger on his lips.
“Not a word above your breath for your life,” whispered the latter,
whose face was as white as a sheet, and as he said it, he put something
into Frank’s hand. It was one of Uncle Dick’s revolvers. “It is loaded
and all ready for use,” whispered Archie. “I have done the worst part of
the work. The men are on deck and waiting, and all you have to do is to
tell them what your wishes are. I’m a little boy, am I, and you’re
responsible for me, are you? You wish I was ashore where I belong, don’t
you? We’ll have the schooner in five minutes more. Come out here, and
I’ll show you why I wanted the tarpaulin left over the skylights.”
All this was Greek to Frank, who, not yet fairly awake, sat up in his
bunk staring blankly, first at his cousin, and then at the revolver he
held in his hand; but when Archie laid hold of his arm, he sprang
lightly upon the floor and stepped out into the cabin.