[Illustration: PIERRE FOILED.]
THE
SPORTSMAN’S CLUB
AFLOAT.
BY HARRY CASTLEMON,
AUTHOR OF “THE GUNBOAT SERIES,” “GO AHEAD SERIES,”
“ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES,” ETC.
[Illustration]
PHILADELPHIA:
PORTER & COATES,
CINCINNATI:
R. W. CARROLL & CO.
FAMOUS CASTLEMON BOOKS.
=GUNBOAT SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 6 vols. 16mo. Cloth,
extra, black and gold.
FRANK THE YOUNG NATURALIST.
FRANK ON A GUNBOAT.
FRANK IN THE WOODS.
FRANK BEFORE VICKSBURG.
FRANK ON THE LOWER MISSISSIPPI.
FRANK ON THE PRAIRIE.
=ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 3 vols. 16mo.
Cloth, extra, black and gold.
FRANK AMONG THE RANCHEROS.
FRANK AT DON CARLOS’ RANCHO.
FRANK IN THE MOUNTAINS.
=SPORTSMAN’S CLUB SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 3 vols. 16mo.
Cloth, extra, black and gold.
THE SPORTSMAN’S CLUB IN THE SADDLE.
THE SPORTSMAN’S CLUB AFLOAT.
THE SPORTSMAN’S CLUB AMONG THE TRAPPERS.
=GO-AHEAD SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 3 vols. 16mo. Cloth,
extra, black and gold.
TOM NEWCOMBE.
GO-AHEAD.
NO MOSS.
=FRANK NELSON SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 3 vols. 16mo.
Cloth, extra, black and gold.
SNOWED UP.
FRANK IN THE FORECASTLE.
BOY TRADERS.
=BOY TRAPPER SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 3 vols. 16mo.
Cloth, extra, black and gold.
THE BURIED TREASURE; OR, OLD JORDAN’S HAUNT.
THE BOY TRAPPER; OR, HOW DAVE FILLED THE ORDER.
THE MAIL-CARRIER.
=ROUGHING IT SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 16mo. Cloth,
extra, black and gold.
GEORGE IN CAMP.
_Other Volumes in Preparation._
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by
R. W. CARROLL & CO.,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
On the Gulf again Page 5
CHAPTER II.
A Surprise 25
CHAPTER III.
Outwitted 45
CHAPTER IV.
Fairly afloat 66
CHAPTER V.
The Deserters 88
CHAPTER VI.
A Chapter of Incidents 111
CHAPTER VII.
Don Casper 129
CHAPTER VIII.
Chase rises to explain 148
CHAPTER IX.
Wilson runs a race 164
CHAPTER X.
A Lucky Fall 181
CHAPTER XI.
“Sheep Ahoy!” 198
CHAPTER XII.
The Banner under fire 214
CHAPTER XIII.
The Spanish Frigate 231
CHAPTER XIV.
The Yacht Lookout 254
THE SPORTSMAN’S CLUB AFLOAT.
CHAPTER I.
ON THE GULF AGAIN.
“I assure you, gentlemen, that you do not regret this mistake more than I
do. I would not have had it happen for anything.”
It was the captain of the revenue cutter who spoke. He, with Walter
Gaylord, Mr. Craven, Mr. Chase and the collector of the port, was
standing on the wharf, having just returned with his late prisoners from
the custom-house, whither the young captain of the Banner had been to
provide himself with clearance papers. The latter had narrated as much
of the history of Fred Craven’s adventures, which we have attempted to
describe in the first volume of this series, as he was acquainted with,
and the recital had thrown the revenue captain into a state of great
excitement. The yacht was anchored in the harbor, a short distance astern
of the cutter, and alongside the wharf lay the only tug of which the
village could boast, the John Basset, which Mr. Chase and Mr. Craven had
hired to carry them to Lost Island in pursuit of the smugglers.
“There must be some mistake about it,” continued the captain of the
cutter. “A boy captured by a gang of smugglers and carried to sea in a
dugout! I never heard of such a thing before. I know you gentlemen will
pardon me for what I have done, even though you may think me to have been
over-zealous in the discharge of my duty. Your yacht corresponds exactly
with the description given me of the smuggler.”
“You certainly made a great blunder,” said Mr. Craven, who was in very
bad humor; “and there is no knowing what it may cost us.”
“But you can make some amends for it by starting for Lost Island at
once,” said Mr. Chase. “You will find two of the smugglers there, and
perhaps you can compel them to tell you something of the vessel of which
you are in search. More than that, they have made a prisoner of my son,
and he knows what has become of Fred Craven.”
“I am at your service. I will sail again immediately, and I shall reach
the island about daylight. If you gentlemen with your tug arrive there
before I do and need assistance, wait until I come. Captain Gaylord, if
you will step into my gig I shall be happy to take you on board your
vessel. You may go home now, and these gentlemen and myself will attend
to those fellows out there on Lost Island. If we find them we shall
certainly capture them.”
“And when you do that, I shall not be far away,” replied Walter.
“Why, you are not going to venture out in this wind again with that
cockle-shell, are you?” asked the captain, in surprise.
“I am, sir. I built the Banner, and I know what she can do. She has
weathered the Gulf breeze once to-night, and she can do it again. I am
not going home until I see Fred Craven safe out of his trouble. In order
to find out where he is, I must have an interview with Henry Chase.”
Mr. Craven and Mr. Chase, who were impatient to start for Lost Island
again, walked off toward the tug, and Walter stepped down into the
captain’s gig and was carried on board the Banner. His feelings as he
sprang on the deck of his vessel were very different from those he had
experienced when he left her. The last time he clambered over her rail he
was a prisoner, guarded by armed men and charged with one of the highest
crimes known to the law. Now he was free again, the Banner was all his
own, and he was at liberty to go where he pleased.
“Mr. Butler, send all the cutter’s hands into the gig,” said the revenue
captain, as he sprang on board the yacht.
“Very good, sir,” replied the lieutenant. “Pass the word for all the
prize crew to muster on the quarter-deck.”
“Banner’s men, ahoy!” shouted Walter, thrusting his head down the
companion-way. “Up you come with a jump. Perk, get under way immediately.”
For a few seconds confusion reigned supreme on board the yacht. The
revenue men who had been lying about the deck came aft in a body; those
who had been guarding the prisoners in the cabin tumbled up the ladder,
closely followed by the boy crew, who, delighted to find themselves once
more at liberty, shouted and hurrahed until they were hoarse.
“All hands stand by the capstan!” yelled Perk.
“Never mind the anchor,” said Walter. “Get to sea at once.”
“Eugene, slip the chain,” shouted Perk. “Stand by the halliards fore and
aft.”
“Hold on a minute, captain,” exclaimed the master of the cutter, who had
been extremely polite and even cringing ever since he learned that the
boys who had been his prisoners were the sons of the wealthiest and most
influential men about Bellville. “I should like an opportunity to muster
my crew, if you please.”
“Can you not do that on board your own vessel?” asked Walter.
“I might under ordinary circumstances, but of late my men have been
seizing every opportunity to leave me, and I am obliged to watch them
very closely. They have somehow learned that a Cuban privateer, which has
escaped from New York, is lying off Havana waiting for a crew, and they
are deserting me by dozens. There may be some deserters stowed away about
this yacht, for all I know.”
“Never mind,” replied Walter, who was so impatient to get under way that
he could think of nothing else. “If there are, I will return them to you
when I meet you at Lost Island. Good-bye, captain, and if you see me on
the Gulf again don’t forget that I have papers now.”
By this time the Banner was fairly under sail. Perk saw that the revenue
men were still on board, and knew that they would have some difficulty
in getting into their boat when the yacht was scudding down the harbor
at the rate of eight knots an hour, but that made no difference to him.
His commander had ordered him to get under way, and he did it without
the loss of a moment. He slipped the anchor, hoisted the same sails the
Banner had carried when battling with the Gulf breeze three hours before,
and in a few seconds more was dragging the revenue gig through the water
at a faster rate than she had ever travelled before. Her crew tumbled
over the rail one after another, and when they were all in the boat Bab
cast off the painter, and the Banner sped on her way, leaving the gig
behind.
“What was the matter, Walter? did they really take us for smugglers?”
asked the Club in concert, as they gathered about the young captain.
“What did you tell them; and has anything new happened that you are going
to sea again in such a hurry?”
“Ask your questions one at a time and they will last longer,” replied
Walter; who then proceeded in a very few words to explain matters. The
captain of the cutter had really been stupid enough to believe that the
Banner was a smuggler, he said, and so certain was he of the fact that
he would listen to no explanation. Mr. Craven had told him the story
of the two smugglers who had taken a prisoner to Lost Island, but the
revenue commander would not believe a word of it, and persisted in his
determination to take his captives to the village. When they arrived
there and the collector of the port had been called up, of course the
matter was quickly settled, and then the captain appeared to be very
sorry for what he had done, and was as plausible and fawning as he
had before been insolent and overbearing. Pierre and his father would
certainly be captured now, for Mr. Chase and Mr. Craven had chartered the
John Bassett to carry them to Lost Island, and the revenue captain would
also sail at once and render all the assistance in his power.
“Humph!” exclaimed Eugene, when Walter finished his story, “We don’t
want any of his help, or the tug’s either. Crack on, Walter, and let’s
reach the island and have the work over before they get there.”
“That would be useless,” answered the cautious young captain. “The
Banner’s got as much as she can carry already; and besides we can’t
expect to compete with a tug or a vessel of the size of the cutter. If
we reach the island in time to see Chase rescued, I shall be satisfied.
If any of you are in want of sleep you may go below, and Bab and I will
manage the yacht.”
But none of the Club felt the need of rest just then. Things were getting
too exciting. With a couple of smugglers before them to be captured,
two swift rival pursuers behind, to say nothing of the gale and the
waves which tossed the staunch little Banner about like a nut-shell, and
the intense impatience and anxiety they felt to learn something of the
situation of the missing secretary—under circumstances like these sleep
was not to be thought of. They spent the next half hour in discussing
the exciting adventures that had befallen them since their encounter
with Bayard Bell and his crowd, and then Eugene, after sundry emphatic
injunctions from his brother to keep his weather eye open and mind what
he was about, took Perk’s place at the wheel, while the latter, who
always acted as ship’s cook in the absence of Sam the negro, went below
to prepare the eatables which Walter had provided before leaving home.
The baskets containing the provisions had been taken into the galley.
In the floor of this galley was a small hatchway leading into the hold
where the water-butts, fuel for the stove, tool-chests, ballast, and
extra rigging were stowed away; and when Perk approached the galley from
the cabin he was surprised to see that the hatchway was open, and that a
faint light, like that emitted by a match, was shining through it from
below.
The sight was a most unexpected one, and for an instant Perk stood
paralyzed with alarm. His face grew as pale as death, and his heart
seemed to stop beating. Who had been careless enough to open that hatch
and go into the hold with an uncovered light? Eugene of course—he was
always doing something he had no business to do—and he had set fire to
some of the combustible matter there. Perk had often heard Uncle Dick
tell how it felt to have one’s vessel burned under him, and shuddering
at the recital, had hoped most fervently that he might never know the
feeling by experience. But now he was in a fair way to learn all about
it. Already he imagined the Banner a charred and smoking wreck, and he
and his companions tossing about on the waves clinging to spars and
life-buoys. These thoughts passed through Perk’s mind in one second of
time; then recovering the use of his legs and his tongue, he sprang
forward and shouted out one word which rang through the cabin, and fell
with startling distinctness upon the ears of the watchful crew on deck.
“Fire!” yelled Perk, with all the power of his lungs.
That was all he said, but it was enough to strike terror to the heart
of every one of the boy sailors who heard it. Somebody else heard it
too—some persons who did not belong to the Banner, and who had no
business on board of her. Perk did not know it then, but he found it out
a moment afterwards when he entered the galley, for, just as he seized
the hatch, intending to close the opening that led into the hold and thus
shut out the draft, a grizzly head suddenly appeared from below, one
brawny hand holding a hatchet, was placed upon the combings, and the
other was raised to prevent the descent of the hatch.
If it is possible for a boy to see four things at once, to come to a
conclusion on four different points, to act, and to do it all in less
than half a second of time, Perk certainly performed the feat. He saw
that the man who so suddenly made his appearance in the hatchway was
dressed in the uniform of the revenue service; that he had a companion
in the hold; that the latter was in the act of taking an adze from the
tool-chest; and that he held in his hand a smoky lantern which gave out
the faint, flickering light that shone through the hatchway.
When the boy had noted these things, some scraps of the conversation he
had overheard between Walter and the revenue captain came into his mind.
These men were deserters from the cutter, and he had discovered them just
in time to prevent mischief. They were preparing to make an immediate
attack upon the Banner’s crew, and had provided themselves with weapons
to overcome any opposition they might meet. If they were allowed to come
on deck they would take the vessel out of the hands of her crew, and
shape her course toward Havana, where the Cuban privateer was supposed
to be lying. Perk did not object to the men joining the privateer if they
felt so inclined—that was the revenue captain’s business, and not his—but
he was determined that they should not assume control of the Banner, and
take her so far into the Gulf in such a gale if he could prevent it.
“Avast, there!” exclaimed the sailor, in a savage tone of voice, placing
his hand against the hatch to keep Perk from slamming it down on his
head. “We want to come up.”
“But I want you to stay down,” replied the boy; “and we’ll see who will
have his way.”
The sailor made an upward spring, and Perk flung down the hatchway at the
same moment, throwing all his weight upon it as he did so. The result was
a collision between the man’s head and the planks of which the hatchway
was composed, the head getting the worst of it. The deserter was knocked
over on the opposite side of the opening and caught and held as if he had
been in a vise, his breast being pressed against the combings, and the
sharp corner of the hatch, with Perk’s one hundred and forty pounds on
top of it, falling across his shoulders.
“Now just listen to me a minute, and I’ll tell you what’s a fact,” said
the boy, who, finding that the enemy was secured beyond all possibility
of escape, began to recover his usual coolness and courage; “I’ve got
you.”
“But you had better let me go mighty sudden,” replied the sailor,
struggling desperately to seize Perk over his shoulder. “Push up the
hatch, Tom,” he added, addressing his confederate below.
All these events, which we have been so long in narrating, occupied
scarcely a minute in taking place. Walter sprang toward the companion-way
the instant Perk’s wild cry fell upon his ears, and pale and breathless
burst into the cabin, followed by Bab and Wilson. When he opened the door
he discovered Perk in the position we have described. A single glance at
the uniform worn by the man whose head and shoulders were protruding from
the hatchway, was enough to explain everything.
“Now, here’s a go!” exclaimed Bab, in great amazement.
“Yes; and there’ll be a worse go than this if you don’t let me out,”
replied the prisoner, savagely. “Push up the hatch, Tom.”
“The revenue captain was right in his suspicions after all, wasn’t he?”
said Walter, as he and Wilson advanced and wrested the hatchet from the
sailor’s hand. “I don’t think that your attempt to reach Cuba will be
very successful, my friend.”
“That remains to be seen. Push up the hatch, Tom. If I once get on deck
I’ll make a scattering among these young sea monkeys. Push up the hatch,
I tell you.”
This was the very thing the man below had been trying to do from the
first, but without success. The hatchway was small, and was so nearly
filled by the body of the prisoner, who was a burly fellow, that his
companion in the hold had no chance to exert his strength. He could not
place his shoulders against the hatch, and there was no handspike in the
hold, or even a billet of wood strong enough to lift with. He breathed
hard and uttered a good many threats, but accomplished nothing.
“I wish now I had given that captain time to muster his men,” said
Walter. “This fellow is a deserter from the cutter, of course; but he
shall never go to Havana in our yacht. Bab, go on deck and bring down
three handspikes.”
Bab disappeared, and when he returned with the implements, Walter took
one and handed Wilson another.
“Now, Perk,” continued the young captain, “take a little of your weight
off the hatch and let that man go back into the hold. We’d rather have
him down there than up here.”
“I know it,” said Perk. “But just listen to me, and I’ll tell you what’s
a fact: Perhaps he won’t go back.”
“I think he will,” answered Walter, in a very significant tone of voice.
“He’d rather go back of his own free will than be knocked back. Try him
and see.”
Perk got off the hatch, and the sailor, after taking a look at the
handspikes that were flourished over his head, slid back into the hold
without uttering a word; while Bab, hardly waiting until his head was
below the combings, slammed down the hatch, threw the bar over it and
confined it with a padlock. This done, the four boys stood looking at one
another with blanched cheeks.
“Where’s the fire, Perk?” asked Walter.
“There is none, I am glad to say. The light I saw shining from the hold
came from a lantern that those fellows have somehow got into their
possession.”
“Well, I’d rather fight the deserters than take my chances with a fire if
it was once fairly started,” replied Walter, much relieved. “How many of
them are there?”
“Only two that I saw. But they can do a great deal of mischief if they
feel in the humor for it.”
“That is just what I was thinking of,” chimed in Bab. “You take it very
coolly, Walter. Don’t you know that if they get desperate they can set
fire to the yacht, or bore through the bottom and sink her?”
“I thought of all that before we drove that man back there; but what
else could we have done? If we had brought him up here to tie him, he
would have attacked us as soon as he touched the deck, and engaged our
attention until his companion could come to his assistance. Perk, you and
Wilson stay down here and guard that hatch. Call me if you hear anything.”
“I hear something now,” said Wilson.
“So do I,” exclaimed Perk. “I hear those fellows swearing and storming
about in the hold; but they won’t get out that way, I guess.”
Walter and Bab returned to the deck and found Eugene in a high state
of excitement, and impatient to hear all about the fire. He was much
relieved, although his excitement did not in the least abate, to learn
that the danger that had threatened the yacht was of an entirely
different character, and that by Perk’s prompt action it had been
averted, at least for the present. Of course he could not stay on deck
after so thrilling a scene had been enacted below. He gave the wheel into
his brother’s hands, and went down into the galley to see how things
looked there. He listened in great amazement to Perk’s account of the
affair, and placed his ear at the hatch in the hope of hearing something
that would tell him what the prisoners were about. But all was silent
below. The deserters had ceased their swearing and threatening, and were
no doubt trying to decide what they should do next.
The crew of the yacht were not nearly so confidant and jubilant as they
had been before this incident happened, and nothing more was said about
the lunch. The presence of two desperate characters on board their vessel
was enough to awaken the most serious apprehensions in their minds.
During the rest of the voyage they were on the alert to check any
attempt at escape on the part of the prisoners, and those on deck caught
up handspikes and rushed down into the cabin at every unusual sound. But
the journey was accomplished without any mishap, and finally the bluffs
on Lost Island began to loom up through the darkness. After sailing
around the island without discovering any signs of the smugglers, the
Banner came about, and running before the wind like a frightened deer,
held for the cove into which Chase and his captors had gone with the
pirogue a few hours before. The young captain, with his speaking-trumpet
in his hand, stood upon the rail, the halliards were manned fore and
aft, and the careful Bab sent to the wheel. These precautions were taken
because the Banner was now about to perform the most dangerous part of
her voyage to the island. The entrance to the cove was narrow, and the
cove itself extended but a short distance inland, so that if the yacht’s
speed were not checked at the proper moment, the force with which she was
driven by the gale, would send her high and dry upon the beach.
The little vessel flew along with the speed of an arrow, seemingly on the
point of dashing herself in pieces on the rocks, against which the surf
beat with a roar like that of a dozen cannon; but, under the skilful
management of her young captain, doubled the projecting point in safety,
and was earned on the top of a huge wave into the still waters of the
cove. Now was the critical moment, and had Walter been up and doing he
might have saved the Banner from the catastrophe which followed. But
he did not give an order, and it is more than likely that he would not
have been obeyed if he had. He and his crew stood rooted to the deck,
bewildered by the scene that burst upon their view. A bright fire was
roaring and crackling on the beach, and by the aid of the light it threw
out, every object in the cove could be distinguished. The first thing the
crew of the Banner noticed was a small schooner moored directly in their
path—the identical one they had seen loading at Bellville; the second, a
group of men, one of whom they recognised, standing on the beach; and the
third, a cave high up the bluff, in the mouth of which stood one of the
boys of whom they were in search, Henry Chase, whose face was white with
excitement and terror. He was throwing his arms wildly about his head,
and shouting at the top of his voice.
“Banner ahoy!” he yelled.
“Hallo!” replied Walter, as soon as he found his tongue.
“Get away from here!” shouted Chase. “Get away while you can. That vessel
is the smuggler, and Fred Craven is a prisoner on board of her.”
But it was too late for the yacht to retreat. Before Walter could open
his mouth she struck the smuggling vessel with a force sufficient to
knock all the boy crew off their feet, breaking the latter’s bowsprit
short off, and then swung around with her stern in the bushes, where she
remained wedged fast, with her sails shaking in the wind.