A LUCKY FALL.
“Are we not in luck for once in our lives? Who would have thought that
the storm which blew us so far out of our course, was destined to prove
an advantage instead of a hindrance to us?”
“Not I, for one, but I can see it now. If we had gone to Havana, as we
intended, we should never have seen the Stella again, or Featherweight
either. Now that we have found him, what is the next thing to be done?”
“We’ll talk about that as we go along, and keep them in sight until we
have decided upon a plan of action. There they go over the hill. Let’s
hurry on, for we must allow them no chance to give us the slip.”
This conversation was carried on by Walter and Perk, as they ran up the
hill in pursuit of Fred Craven, whom they had seen going toward the
village in company with Mr. Bell and Captain Conway. They knew it was
Fred, and they knew too that he saw them, and was aware that they were
following him, for once, just before he disappeared from their sight, he
drew his handkerchief from his pocket and waved it in the air behind him.
The movement was executed with but little attempt at concealment; but,
although the Captain and Mr. Bell must certainly have seen it, they made
no effort to check it.
As we have seen, from the few words that passed between them, the young
sailors had left the yacht without any very definite object in view. They
wanted to assist Fred Craven, if the opportunity were presented, but just
how they were going to set about it they could not tell. Should they
hurry on, and when they came up with him demand his release; or should
they wait and see what his captors were going to do with him? While they
were talking the matter over, the objects of their pursuit disappeared
over the brow of the hill, and that was the last they saw of them,
although they at once quickened their pace to a run, and in a few seconds
were standing on the very spot where they had last seen them. They looked
in every direction, but the men and their captive had vanished. Before
them was a wide and level road, leading through the village and into
the plain beyond, and they could see every moving thing in it for the
distance of a mile. There were people there in abundance, but none among
them who looked like Fred Craven and his keepers. Where could they have
gone so suddenly?
“Now this beats everything I ever heard of,” said Walter in great
bewilderment. “We are not dreaming, are we?”
“No sir,” replied Perk, emphatically. “I was never more fully awake than
I am at this moment. There’s some trick at the bottom of this.”
“What in the world is it?”
“I should be glad to tell you if I knew. You take one side of the street,
and I’ll take the other. Don’t waste time now, but be careful to look
into every shop and behind every house you pass.”
Walter, prompt to act upon the suggestion, set off at the top of his
speed, followed by Perk, who, although equally anxious to get over a
good deal of ground in the shortest possible space of time, conducted
his search with more care. Had the former looked into one of the
cross-streets past which he hurried with such frantic haste, he might,
perhaps, have caught a partial glimpse of the burly form of Captain
Conway standing in a doorway; and had he approached him he would have
found Mr. Bell and Featherweight standing close behind him. But he did
not know this, and neither was he aware that as soon as he and Perk
passed on down the street, the master of the smuggling vessel came
cautiously from his place of concealment, and looking around the corner
of a house, watched them until they were two hundred yards away. But the
Captain did this, and more. Having satisfied himself that the young tars
had been eluded, he returned to the doorway and held a short conversation
with Mr. Bell. When it was ended, that gentleman hurried off out of
sight, and the Captain, drawing Fred’s arm through his own, conducted
him along the cross-street and through lanes and by-ways back to the
wharf, and on board a vessel—not the Stella, but a large ship, which, if
one might judge by the hustle and confusion on her deck, was just on the
point of sailing. As he and his captive boarded her, they were met by the
master of the vessel who, without saying a word, led them into his cabin
and showed them an open state-room. Without any ceremony Fred was pushed
into it, the door closed and the key turned in the lock.
“There,” said Captain Conway, with a sigh of relief, “he is disposed of
at last. If any of those Banner fellows can find him now, I should like
to see them do it. Mr. Bell’s been in this business too long to be beaten
by a lot of little boys.”
This was only a part of Mr. Bell’s plan; and while it was being carried
into execution, some other events, a portion of which we have already
described, were taking place in the harbor. The mate of the smuggling
vessel visited the yacht, and after enticing Tomlinson and the rest of
the deserters on board the Stella by the promise of a good breakfast,
and a pipe to smoke after it, and starting off Wilson and his companion
on a wild-goose chase, by sending them a note purporting to come from
Walter, had cleared the coast so that he could carry out the rest of his
employer’s scheme without let or hindrance. The first thing he did was
to convey some bales and boxes containing arms, ammunition and military
trappings, on board the yacht—for what purpose we shall see presently—and
his second to secure possession of Walter’s clearance papers. When these
things had been done, the mate returned on board the Stella and received
some more instructions from Mr. Bell; after which he came out of the
cabin and joined the deserters who were in the forecastle, discussing
the breakfast that had been prepared for them. By adroit questioning he
finally obliged Tomlinson to confess what he had all along suspected—that
he and his companions belonged to the United States revenue service, and
that they had deserted their vessel and stolen a passage across the Gulf,
with the intention of shipping aboard a Cuban privateer. When the mate
had found out all he wanted to know, he left them with the remark that
there was a privateer lying off Havana, all ready to sail as soon as she
had shipped a crew, and that if the deserters wanted to find her they
had better start at once. He added that they might waste a good deal of
valuable time if they waited for a vessel to take them to the city, and
that the best thing for them to do would be to steal a small sailboat.
There were plenty of them about the harbor. Havana was only a hundred
miles away, and with a fair wind they could sail there in a few hours.
If they adopted that plan, they had better wait until dark in order to
escape the vigilance of the Spanish officials, who boarded all vessels,
even skiffs, as they entered and left the port.
“What have you fellows got to say to that?” asked Tomlinson, as soon as
the officer had ascended to the deck. “The mate’s plan agrees with mine
exactly, and that proves that it is worth trying. We will go back and
take the Banner as soon as we have finished our breakfast. _I_ am going,
at least, and I’d like to know who is with me. Speak up!”
All the deserters spoke up except Bob. He grumbled as usual, and had
some objections to offer. “Tom,” said he, “you haven’t yet answered the
question I asked you once before: who’s going to navigate the vessel? You
can’t do it.”
“Can’t I? What’s the reason? All we’ve got to do is to follow the coast.”
“And get lost or wrecked for our pains! No, thankee. And there’s another
thing you haven’t thought of. We shall want some clearance papers, and
how are we going to get ’em? That officer who boarded us as we came in
will be sure to visit us again. The mate said so.”
“We’re going to give him the slip.”
“But suppose we can’t do it? What if he sees us and hails us?”
“We won’t stop, that’s all. He goes around in a row-boat, and the yacht
will easily run away from her.”
“You forget that there are two men of war in the harbor, and a fort on
the point. I don’t care to run the fire of a hundred guns in such a craft
as the Banner. Put me on board the old gunboat Cairo, if she was as
good as before she was sunk by that rebel torpedo in Yazoo river, and I
wouldn’t mind it.”
“We’re not going to run the fire of a hundred guns, or one either,”
replied Tomlinson. “I’ll tell you just how we will manage it. We’ll take
the Banner at once; that’s the first thing to be done. Then we’ll run
her over to the other side of the harbor—there are no wharves there, you
know—and anchor off shore until dark, when we will make sail and slip
out; and no one will be the wiser for it.”
“But we shall want something to eat,” persisted Bob. “There isn’t a
mouthful on board the yacht. We may meet with head winds, you know, and
be a week reaching Havana.”
“Haven’t I told you that it will be the easiest thing in the world to
land somewhere on the coast and steal some grub?” demanded Tomlinson,
losing all patience.
“So it will, mate, and I know just where to get it,” said a strange
voice, in a suppressed whisper above their heads.
The deserters, not a little alarmed to find that their conversation had
been overheard, glanced quickly upward and saw a man crouching at the top
of the ladder and looking down at them. It was Pierre, who having thus
addressed them, made a gesture of silence, and after looking all around
the deck as if fearful of being seen, crept down the ladder into the
forecastle.
“Don’t be alarmed, lads,” he continued, in a hurried whisper. “I heard
what you said, because I couldn’t well help it, being at work close by
the hatchway, and you talked louder than you thought, I reckon. If you
will let me, I will strike hands with you. I have been watching all day
for a chance to desert this craft, for I want to join that privateer
myself. If I can do that, I shall be a rich man in less than six months.
I like your plans, and will help you carry them out. Now is the best time
in the world to capture that yacht, for there is nobody on board of her.
I know just where to find the privateer, and, while we are on the way, I
will show you where we can get all the grub we want.”
Pierre rattled off this speech as if he had learned it by heart—as indeed
he had, his teacher being none other than Mr. Bell—and spoke so rapidly
that his auditors could not have crowded a word in edgewise if they had
tried. When he finished, he seated himself on one of the berths and
looked inquiringly from one to the other, waiting for their answer. It
was not given at once, for Bob and his two companions were not disposed
to advance an opinion until they had heard what their leader had to say;
and the latter, surprised and disconcerted by Pierre’s sudden appearance
and his unexpected offer of assistance, wanted time, to collect his wits
and propound a few inquiries. He wanted to know who Pierre was; how long
he had been on board the Stella; if he was certain there was a privateer
lying off Havana waiting for a crew; how he had found out that she was
there, and all that. The smuggler gave satisfactory replies to these
questions, and then Tomlinson extended his hand, and told him that he
was glad to see him. Their new acquaintance, being thus admitted into
their confidence, helped himself to a piece of hard-tack, and during the
conversation that followed succeeded in convincing the deserters that he
was just the man they wanted; he knew how things ought to be managed in
order to insure complete success. So certain was Tomlinson of this fact
that, with the consent of his companions, he offered Pierre the command
of the party, and agreed to be governed by his orders.
“Well, then,” said Pierre, “it is all settled, and the sooner we are on
the move the better. If you have finished your breakfast, go out on the
wharf and wait for me. I will be on hand as soon as I can find a chance
to leave the vessel without being seen.”
The deserters accordingly left the forecastle, and as soon as they were
out of sight Pierre followed them to the deck and entered the cabin,
where he found Mr. Bell. After a few minutes’ interview with that
gentleman, he came out again, holding in his hands a roll of bills, which
he showed to the mate whom he met at the top of the companion ladder. He
was now about to carry out the rest of Mr. Bell’s plan, and the money he
carried in his hand was the reward for his services.
In order to keep up appearances, and make the deserters, who were
watching him from the wharf, believe that he was really leaving the
vessel without the knowledge of her crew, Pierre, after gathering up
some of his clothes, walked carelessly about the deck until the mate’s
back was turned, and then vaulting over the rail, ran quickly behind a
pile of cotton bales on the wharf; and having joined Tomlinson and the
rest, led the way to the place where the Banner lay. They boarded the
little vessel as if they had a perfect right to be there, and without any
delay began hoisting the sails. While thus engaged Tomlinson happened to
look up the harbor, and to his great disgust discovered Eugene and Bab
hurrying along the wharf.
“What’s to be done now, captain?” he asked, directing Pierre’s attention
to the two boys. “There come some of them young sea-monkeys, and we can’t
get under way before they board us. They’re always around when they are
not wanted.”
Pierre’s actions, upon hearing these words, not a little surprised
Tomlinson. He took just one glance at the young sailors, and then
springing to the fore-hatch, lowered himself quickly into the galley.
There he stopped long enough to give a few brief and hurried orders to
the deserters, one of whom also jumped down into the galley, while the
others went on with the work of hoisting the sails. A few minutes later,
Eugene and Bab crossed the deck of the brig that lay between the yacht
and the wharf, and appeared at the rail.
“What’s going on here?” demanded the former, angrily. “It seems to me,
Tomlinson, that you are taking a good many liberties on so short an
acquaintance. I was in hopes I had seen the last of you. Drop those
halliards.”
“Of course I will, if you say so, because you are one of the owners of
the yacht,” replied the sailor. “But we have orders from the lieutenant
to get under way at once.”
“From Chase?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where is he?” asked Bab.
“He’s below, and Wilson has gone out to look for you.”
“Has Walter returned yet?”
“Yes. He is in the cabin now.”
“Why is he getting under way, and where is he starting for?” inquired
Eugene, as he and Bab swung themselves over the brig’s rail and dropped
upon the deck of their vessel.
“I don’t exactly know. There’s been something exciting going on here. He
will tell you all about it.”
“Did Walter bring any one with him when he came back?”
“Yes; another boy.”
“What’s his name—Fred Craven?” demanded Bab and Eugene, in a breath.
“I don’t know. Never saw or heard of him before. He’s a little
fellow—about as big as a marline-spike.”
“That’s Featherweight!” cried Eugene.
“I know it is,” shouted Bab. “Hurrah for our side.”
Without waiting to ask any more questions, the two boys bounded toward
the door of the cabin, each one striving to outrun the other, and to
be the first to greet the long-lost secretary. Bab took the lead, and
a fortunate thing it was for Eugene. The latter, in his haste, caught
his foot in one of the foresail halliards, and was sent headlong to the
deck, while Bab kept on, and jumping into the standing room, pushed open
the door of the cabin; but he did not enter. He stopped short on the
threshold and stood there motionless, until a brawny hand fastened upon
the collar of his jacket and jerked him through the door.
Eugene quickly recovered his feet, and arrived within sight of the
entrance to the cabin just an instant after Bab disappeared. He too
paused, amazed at what he saw. The first thing he noticed, was that the
lock had been forced from the door (Chase had locked it before leaving
the yacht, and Pierre had used a handspike to open it), and that would
have aroused a suspicion of treachery in his mind, even had he not seen
Bab struggling in the grasp of two men, both of whom he recognised. One
was Bob, and the other was Pierre. Eugene stooped down and looked into
the cabin, and seeing that there was no one there except the two ruffians
and their prisoner, comprehended the situation almost as well as if it
had been explained to him. He could not of course, tell how Pierre came
to be there in company with the deserters, but he knew that they were
about to steal the yacht, and that Tomlinson had concocted the story he
had told in order to send him and Bab into the cabin, so that they could
be secured. Poor Bab had been entrapped, and the only thing that saved
Eugene, was the accident that had befallen him.
“Pierre,” shouted the boy, in indignant tones, “I know what you’re at,
but your plan won’t work. You’ll not get far away with the Banner—mind
that!”
Pierre at once left his companion to attend to Bab, and came out into
the standing room, eager to secure Eugene, before his loud, angry voice
attracted the attention of the brig’s crew. “You will save yourself
trouble by clapping a stopper on that jaw of yours,” said he, fiercely.
“Come up behind him, Tomlinson, and the rest of you cast off the lines,
and get the Banner under way without the loss of a moment.”
“The rest of you let those lines alone,” shouted Eugene. “And Tomlinson,
you keep your distance,” he added, springing lightly upon the taffrail
as the deserter advanced upon him. “You’ll not take me into that cabin a
prisoner.”
“Grab him, Tomlinson!” exclaimed Pierre, “and be quick about it, or
you’ll be too late.”
And he _was_ too late, being altogether too slow in his movements to
seize so agile a fellow as Eugene. Believing that the boy was fairly
cornered and could not escape, the deserter came up very deliberately,
and was much surprised to see him raise his hands above his head, and
dive out of sight in the harbor. Tomlinson ran quickly to the stern and
looked over, but Eugene was far out of his reach, being just in the act
of disappearing around the stern of the brig.
“Never mind him,” said Pierre; “he’s gone, and we can’t help it. The next
thing is to be gone ourselves, before he gets help and comes back.”
“All clear fore and aft!” cried one of the deserters.
“Shove off, for’ard!” commanded Pierre, seizing the wheel. “Tom, send two
men aloft to shake out those topsails.”
In five minutes more the Banner, lying almost on her side, and carrying a
huge bone in her teeth, was scudding swiftly away from the wharf toward
the opposite side of the harbor.