AN OBSTINATE CAPTAIN.
Frank now began to see that he had been mistaken in the mental estimate
he had made of one of the two officers who came off in the steamer’s
boat. The midshipman, whose name was Kendall, as he afterwards learned,
he had put down as a conceited young prig, who would have made a
first-rate companion for the consul’s clerk; and his conduct a few
minutes later gave Frank no reason to change his opinion. The
gray-headed lieutenant he had supposed to be a gentleman, but on that
point he now began to have some doubts. The officer seemed to be greatly
astonished at the audacity Frank exhibited in presuming to object to
anything he might see fit to do. He drew himself up, and stared at the
young captain in a way that was perfectly insulting, and made the latter
all the more determined to stick to the course he had marked out for
himself.
“I am sailing-master of this craft,” said Frank, “and in the absence of
my superior have a right to command her.”
“Her Majesty’s officers are in the habit of obeying any orders they may
receive,” returned the lieutenant, loftily.
“But those orders were given to you under the supposition that the
lawful crew of this vessel were in need of your assistance,” replied
Frank. “When we passed you last night we should have been glad of your
help; but now we are in a situation to take care of ourselves.”
“Why did you not hail us when you passed us last night?” asked the
midshipman.
“Because Waters and his friends had full control of the schooner, and I
had no desire to be pitched overboard,” answered Frank.
“If you had been a brave young man, you would have done your duty at all
hazards. But I do not wish to waste any more time in argument. Mr.
Kendall,” said the lieutenant, turning to the midshipman, “select ten
men from that boat’s crew, and remain in charge of the yacht. Follow in
our wake when we steam away for Hobart Town.”
The young officer saluted, and hurried up the ladder to obey these
orders, while the lieutenant turned to the prisoners, and commanded them
to get up and go on deck. Frank followed them up the companion-way, and
when he reached the top, was surprised to find Mr. Kendall and Archie
engaged in an angry war of words. He had no trouble in guessing at the
cause of it. He looked toward the stern, and saw Brown standing there
with the color halliards in his hand, and the colors themselves were
partly hauled down.
“I want you to understand that I command this yacht now,” said Mr.
Kendall, shaking his clenched hand at Archie.
“I don’t dispute it, do I?” returned the latter.
“Then why do you countermand my orders?” demanded the midshipman.
“Brown!” exclaimed Frank, sharply, “run that flag up to the peak where
it belongs. Belay the halliards and go for’ard.”
“There!” said Archie, turning to the officer; “I hope you are satisfied
now that that flag was put there to stay.”
“Captain,” said the midshipman, trying to speak calmly, although it was
plain to be seen that he was very angry, “_I_ ordered those colors
hauled down.”
“There is not a man in my crew who will obey an order of that kind,”
replied Frank.
“But I am in command now, and I don’t sail under that flag.”
“All right, sir. Haul it down yourself, if you wish to take the
responsibility.”
The young officer knew better than to do that. He bit his lips and
looked towards his superior, who seemed to be utterly confounded by the
turn affairs were taking. “I call this a very extraordinary proceeding,
captain,” said he, at length.
“Not at all, sir,” replied Frank. “If you regard our vessel as a prize
and ourselves as prisoners, you have the power to act accordingly; but
it will be useless to ask us to smooth the way for you.”
“No, no!” exclaimed the lieutenant, quickly; “you don’t understand the
matter at all. We expected to find the convicts in charge of your yacht,
and to have a fight with them before we could recover possession of
her.”
“Your expectations were not realized,” said Frank. “We saved you all
trouble.”
“Perhaps I had better return and ask further instructions from my
captain,” continued the officer, after thinking a moment. “Mr. Kendall,
you will remain in charge until you receive other orders.”
So saying, the lieutenant ordered the convicts into his boat, jumped in
himself, and pushed off towards his own vessel, leaving a very
unsociable company on board the schooner. During the half hour that
followed not a word was exchanged between any of them, except by the two
cousins. The midshipman planked the weather side of the quarter-deck in
solitary state; his men were gathered in a group on the forecastle; and
the crew of the Stranger stood in the waist, Frank and Archie leaning
against the rail a little apart from the others, so that they could
exchange opinions without being overheard. At the end of the half hour
the steamer’s boat came in sight again, and when she had drawn up
alongside, the coxswain handed a note to the midshipman. The contents,
whatever they were, evidently surprised and enraged the officer, who, in
a very gruff voice, ordered his men to tumble into the boat, then jumped
in himself and shoved off without saying a word to Frank.
“Does that mean that you are in command once more?” asked Archie.
“I don’t know, but I’ll take the risk,” was the reply.
As soon as the midshipman’s boat was clear of the side, the Stranger
filled away on her course and dashed across the bow of the steamer, her
flag flaunting defiantly in the faces of the English blue jackets, who
watched her as she flew by. Neither of the cousins said a word until
they were safely out of hearing of the people on the steamer’s deck, and
then Archie’s patriotism bubbled over, and he struck up “Unfurl the
Glorious Banner,” and sang it through to the end.
“You’d better haul it down now,” said Frank, when the song was
concluded, “or you’ll not have any flag to rave about very long. The
breeze will whip it into ribbons in a few minutes more.”
It was the Stranger’s holiday flag, and they could not afford to lose
it; so Archie pulled it down and packed it away in the signal-chest,
handling it as tenderly as though the flag could appreciate the care he
bestowed upon it.
As soon as the steamer’s boat was hoisted at the davits she turned her
bow towards Hobart Town, and before night was out of sight in the
distance. When the sun set, Frank called up his crew to shorten sail. He
knew nothing whatever about the coast he was approaching, and was afraid
to get too close to it in the dark. He and Archie kept a bright lookout
all that night, and as soon as day began to dawn all sail was hoisted
again, and the Stranger once more sped merrily on her way. The smoke of
a steamer was seen in the distance, but Frank did not take a second look
at it until an hour or two afterwards, when Brown announced that it was
a tug, and that she was headed directly towards the schooner.
“She ain’t coming out to tow us in, sir,” said the sailor, “’cause she
knows that we don’t want help with such a breeze as this. I shouldn’t
wonder if your friends were aboard of her, sir.”
After hearing this, Frank began to take some interest in the movements
of the tug. He kept his glass directed toward her, and presently
discovered a group of persons standing on her hurricane-deck. A quarter
of an hour later he could see that they were signalling to him with
their handkerchiefs; and finally the two vessels approached so near to
each other that he could see the faces of those composing the group.
Then he recognized Uncle Dick, his friend Mr. Wilbur, the two trappers,
and the Club. They had probably learned from the captain of the steamer
that the Stranger was safe and approaching Hobart Town as swiftly as the
breeze could drive her, but they were so impatient to see her and their
missing companions once more that they could not wait until she arrived
in port, and so had chartered a tug and started out to meet her. Frank
and Archie were delighted at the prospect of the reunion which was soon
to take place, but the three sailors looked rather gloomy over it. They
could not bear to meet the captain they had wronged.
As soon as the tug arrived abreast of the vessel she began to round to,
and Frank threw the Stranger up into the wind to wait for her to come
alongside. When her bow touched the schooner, the delighted members of
the Club scrambled over the rail like so many young pirates, and greeted
the cousins in the most boisterous manner. The older members of the
party followed more leisurely and were not quite so demonstrative,
although it was plain that they were quite as glad to see Frank and
Archie once more as the Club were.
In obedience to a sign from Uncle Dick the tug steamed off toward Hobart
Town, the Stranger filled away on her course, and then the party went
into the cabin to talk over the events of the last few days. Frank first
told the story of the seizure of the schooner, as he had heard it from
the lips of the convict, and described how they had recovered possession
of her, giving Archie all the credit for the exploit, as he was in duty
bound to do. He laid a good deal of stress on the services rendered by
the Doctor, and said all he could in praise of the three foremast hands;
but when he proposed that they should be retained as if nothing had
happened, Uncle Dick shook his head.
“That will hardly do, Frank,” said he. “As far as I am concerned, I
should not hesitate to keep them and trust them as I did before; but we
should have no peace if I did. The rest of the men have threatened to
take vengeance on them, and every time their liberty was granted there
would be trouble, which would probably end in all the crew finding their
way into the lockup. I think I had better discharge them.”
Of course that settled the matter. Frank was sorry, for he believed that
the three foremast hands were ready to make amends for their misconduct
by every means in their power; but he saw the force of the captain’s
reasoning, and so he said no more about it.
In accordance with Frank’s request, Uncle Dick then told how he had
first discovered the loss of the schooner. He and his friend, Mr.
Wilbur, had returned from their ride about nine o’clock, he said, and
had gone to bed believing that everything was just as it should be. He
never troubled himself about his vessel when he was ashore, for he knew
that his officers were able to take care of her.
Just before daylight, the sailors whom Fowler had sent off on that
wild-goose chase, came back, having been lost for hours in the bush.
They had found the station which Fowler had described to them, and were
surprised to learn that no arrangements for a race had ever been made
there. Believing that they were the victims of a practical joke they
were very indignant, and promised one another that they would square
yards with the consul’s clerk before another twenty-four hours had
passed over their heads. They put their horses into the inclosure where
they found them, went down the bank to hail the schooner for a boat, and
were amazed to find that she was gone. Far from suspecting that there
was anything wrong, they believed that Uncle Dick had taken Mr. Wilbur
and his family out for the excursion that had been so long talked of;
and knowing that if this was the case, some of the herdsmen could tell
them all about it, they returned to the house and pounded loudly upon
the door. The summons was answered by Uncle Dick in person, and the
bluejackets were as surprised to see him as he was to learn of the
discovery they had just made. An investigation was ordered at once, and
it resulted in the finding of the two officers and the rest of the crew,
whom the convicts had left bound and gagged in the bushes on the bank.
Uncle Dick did not wait to hear the whole of the story that Mr. Baldwin
had to tell; a very few words were enough to let him into the secret of
the matter. Accompanied by Mr. Wilbur he set out on horseback for Hobart
Town, and the police commissioner being hunted up, the matter was
explained to him. That gentleman informed his visitors that there was no
war steamer nearer than Melbourne, but she should be sent for at once,
and Uncle Dick might go home fully assured that his vessel would be
returned to him in a very few days, unless she was burnt or sunk by her
convict crew before the man-of-war could come up with her. Uncle Dick,
however, did not go home, and neither did Mr. Wilbur. They both remained
at Hobart Town and boarded every vessel that came in, to inquire if
anything had been seen of the Stranger; but they could gain no tidings
of her, and Uncle Dick began to be seriously alarmed. He did not fear
for the safety of his vessel—he scarcely thought of her—but he did fear
for Frank and his cousin. He remembered what had transpired shortly
after Waters and his three friends were rescued from the breakers, and
he knew that they had two objects in view when they captured the vessel.
One was to regain their liberty, and the other was to make themselves
rich by stealing the contents of the strong box. They might succeed in
regaining their liberty, if they could elude the war-vessel that had
gone in pursuit of them, but they would never make themselves rich as
they hoped. There were not more than twenty-five pounds in the safe.
When the Stranger was hauled into the dry-docks, Walter had deposited
every cent of the vessel’s funds in the bank; and all there was in the
strong box now was a little of his own and Eugene’s pocket-money, which
they had put in there for safe keeping. Uncle Dick did not like to think
what would happen when Waters discovered this fact. Beyond a doubt he
would be very angry, and if he acted as he had done on a former
occasion, when he allowed his rage to get the better of him, what would
become of Frank and his cousin?
“While I was worrying about that it never occurred to me that _you_ were
man enough to take care of him,” added Uncle Dick, nodding to Archie.
“I declare it beats anything I ever heard of,” said Featherweight. “I
didn’t know you had so much pluck.”
“If you had seen me while I was doing it and after it was done, you
wouldn’t give me so much credit,” replied Archie. “I don’t think I was
ever before so badly frightened.”
Uncle Dick then went on to say that the war-steamer had returned to
Hobart Town about ten o’clock on the morning of the previous day. He and
Mr. Wilbur boarded her as soon as she touched the quay, and sought an
interview with her commander, who put all their fears at rest by telling
them that he had the convicts safe under guard, and that he had left the
Stranger in the hands of those who seemed fully competent to take care
of her. Uncle Dick was astonished beyond measure to learn how completely
the boys had turned the tables upon their captors, and could hardly
believe it until he was told that Waters himself had confirmed the
story. The English commander further stated that he would have brought
the yacht into port under convoy, had it not been for the obstinacy of
her captain. Frank having hoisted his colors would not take them down,
and as he had no right to do it, and his officers could not be expected
to sail under a foreign flag, he had left the Stranger to take care of
herself. Uncle Dick laughed when he came to this part of his story, and
Frank knew by the stinging slap he received on the back that he had done
just as the old sailor himself would have done under the same
circumstances.
The schooner sailed into port about three o’clock that afternoon, and as
soon as she was made fast to the quay, the three foremast hands were
called into the cabin and paid off. Uncle Dick gave the same reasons for
discharging them that he had given Frank, and the sailors accepted the
situation without a word of complaint. They took a sorrowful leave of
the captain and each of the Club, and the boys never saw them again
after they went over the side with their bags and hammocks.
When the tide turned the Stranger left the harbor again, Uncle Dick on
the quarter-deck and the Club acting as the crew, and in a few hours
dropped anchor in her old berth near Mr. Wilbur’s house. The sailors and
the herdsmen, who had gathered in a body on the bank to see her come in,
greeted her with cheers, and when the cutter went ashore with Uncle Dick
and the rest, the blue jackets crowded into it with an eagerness that
did not escape the notice of their officers. They expected to find Brown
and his two companions on board the schooner, and if they had found them
there, it is probable that there would have been trouble directly. When
they learned from the Doctor that the three men had been discharged at
Hobart Town, a select party of six, among whom were Lucas and Barton,
was appointed to go to the city, hunt them up, and give them a vigorous
trouncing. But this fine scheme was defeated at the outset, for when the
selected six went aft with their caps in their hands to ask their
liberty, Mr. Baldwin informed them that not a man would be allowed to
leave the vessel. The disappointed blue jackets growled lustily among
themselves, but that did not help the matter.
The next day Mr. Wilbur and his family came aboard, the sails were
hoisted, and the Stranger sailed away with them. They spent a week in
cruising along the coast, stopping at various points of interest, and
then returned to their old anchorage. After that more provisions and
water were hoisted in, three American sailors, whom Uncle Dick found
stranded at Hobart Town, were shipped to supply the places of those who
had been discharged, and the schooner began her voyage to Natal.
This proved to be the pleasantest part of their trip around the world,
so far as the weather was concerned. The topsails were spread at the
start, and were scarcely touched until the shores of Africa were in
sight. Of course the voyage was monotonous, for books were scarce, and
almost every topic of conversation had been worn threadbare. The plans
they had laid for their campaign in Africa had been discussed until they
were heartily tired of them, and it was only when Uncle Dick could be
prevailed upon to relate some of the adventures that had befallen him
during the three years he had spent in the wilds of that almost unknown
country, that the boys exhibited any interest at all. The welcome cry
“Land, ho!” from the masthead aroused them, and sent them up to the
crosstrees with their field-glasses in their hands. They were all
impatient to get ashore—all except the two trappers. The latter seemed
to have forgotten the most of their old fears by this time, and to be
quite as much at home in the forecastle as they were in the mountains
and on the prairie. They had come to realize that they were in no danger
of falling off among the clouds when they reached the under side of the
earth, and were fully convinced that the phantom ship, the Flying
Dutchman, the whale that swallowed Jonah, and the monstrous “quids”
which had so excited their terror, had no existence except in the brains
of the foremast hands; but they knew that there were such things as
elephants, lions, and tigers, for they had heard Uncle Dick and Frank
say so. They did not care to meet any of these monsters, and they
approached the coast with fear and trembling. Perhaps if the Club had
known just what was in store for them, they also would have felt a
little less enthusiasm.