“SHEEP AHOY!”
Meanwhile Eugene, whose astonishment and indignation knew no bounds, was
striking out vigorously for the wharf. Like Chase he began to believe he
had ample reason for declaring the expedition a failure, and to wish he
had known better than to urge it on. The yacht was lost, with no prospect
of being recovered; Bab was a prisoner in the hands of the deserters,
and there was no knowing what they would do with him; he was alone,
in a strange country, his brother and all the rest of the Club having
disappeared; and Fred Craven was still missing—perhaps had already been
sent off to Mexico under the Spanish sea captain. This was the worst
feature in the case, and it caused Eugene more anxiety than the loss of
the yacht. Concerning himself he was not at all uneasy. He was in full
possession of his liberty, was a passable sailor, and could easily find a
vessel bound for the States; but what could poor Fred do in his helpless
condition? Eugene was so fully occupied with such thoughts as these that
he forgot that he was in the water; and neither did he know that he was
an object of interest and amusement to several men who were watching him.
But he became aware of the fact when he rounded the brig’s stern, for a
voice directly over his head called out, in a strong foreign accent:
“Sheep ahoy!”
“You’re a sheep yourself,” replied Eugene, looking up, just in time to
catch a line as it came whirling down to him, and to see half a dozen
sailors in striped shirts and tarpaulins, leaning over the brig’s rail.
Seizing the line with both hands he was drawn out of the water, and in
a few seconds more found himself sprawling on the vessel’s deck in the
midst of the sailors, who greeted him with jeers and shouts of laughter.
“Now, perhaps you see something funny in this, but I don’t,” exclaimed
Eugene, as he scrambled to his feet and looked around for the Banner.
“Do you see that craft out there? She belongs to my brother, and those
fellows have stolen her and are running away with her. I am a stranger
to this country, and its laws and ways of doing business, and I don’t
know how to go to work to get her back. Perhaps some of you will be kind
enough to give me a word of advice.”
The sailors ceased their laughter when he began to speak, and listened
attentively until he was done, when they broke out into another roar,
louder than the first. The one who had thrown him the rope slapped him
on the back and shouted “Sheep ahoy!” while another offered him a plug
of tobacco. The truth was, they had seen Eugene jump overboard when
Tomlinson came aft to seize him; and, very far from guessing the facts of
the case, they believed him to be one of the yacht’s boys who had taken
to the water to escape punishment for some offence he had committed.
They could not understand English, and there was only one among them who
could speak even a word of it; and all he could say was “Sheep ahoy!”
(he intended it for “Ship ahoy!”) which he kept repeating over and over
again, without having the least idea what it meant. They thought that
Eugene was trying to explain to them how badly he had been abused on
board his vessel, and his vehement gestures and angry countenance excited
their mirth.
“Get away with that stuff!” cried the boy, hitting the plug of tobacco
a knock that sent it from the sailor’s hand spinning across the deck.
“Stop pounding me on the back, you fellow, and shouting ‘Sheep ahoy!’
I’m no more of a sheep than you are. Is there one among you who can talk
English?”
“Sheep ahoy!” yelled the sailor, while his companions burst into another
roar of laughter, as the owner of the tobacco went to pick up his
property.
The harder Eugene tried to make himself understood, the louder the
sailors laughed. At first he thought they would not answer his questions,
merely because they wished to tantalize him; but being satisfied at last
that they could not comprehend a word he said, he pushed them roughly
aside, and springing upon the wharf, hurried off, followed by a fresh
burst of laughter and loud cries of “Sheep ahoy!”
“I don’t see any sense in making game of a fellow that way, even if you
can’t understand him,” thought Eugene, more angry than ever. “I hope the
rebels may capture the last one of you, and shut you up for awhile.”
Eugene did not know where he was going or what he intended to do.
Indeed, he did not give the matter a moment’s thought. All he cared for
just then was to get out of hearing of the laughter of the brig’s crew,
and to find some quiet spot where he could sit down by himself, and take
time to recover from the bewilderment occasioned by the events of the
last quarter of an hour. With this object in view, he hurried along the
wharf, out of the gate, and up the street leading to the top of the hill.
At the same moment Walter and Perk were walking slowly up the other side.
It was now nearly sunset. For four long hours the young captain and his
companion had run about the village in every direction, looking for Fred
Craven, and now, almost tired out, and utterly discouraged, they were
slowly retracing their steps toward the wharf. They met Eugene at the top
of the hill, and the moment their eyes rested on him, they knew he had
some unwelcome news to communicate, although they little thought it as
bad as it was.
“O, fellows!” exclaimed Eugene, as soon as he came within speaking
distance, “you don’t know how glad I am to see you again. They’ve got her
at last, and Bab too; and here the rest of us are, high and dry ashore,
with a fair prospect of working our passage back to Bellville, if we can
find any vessel to ship on. Look there!”
Walter turned his eyes in the direction indicated, and one look was
enough. “The deserters?” he faltered.
“Yes, sir, the deserters! And who do you suppose is their leader? Pierre
Coulte!”
Without waiting to hear the exclamations of amazement which this
unexpected intelligence called forth from his companions, Eugene went on
to tell what had happened to him since he had last seen his brother—how
he and Bab had traversed the wharf from one end to the other without
meeting the revenue officer of whom they had been sent in search, and
had returned to the yacht just in time to see her captured. He wound up
his story with the remark that Chase and Wilson must have been secured,
before he and Bab came within sight of the vessel, for they had seen
nothing of them.
“Well, this is a pretty state of affairs,” said Walter, as soon as he
could speak. “Instead of assisting Fred Craven, we have managed to lose
three more of our fellows. As far as I can see we are done for now, and
all that is left us is to look about for a chance to go home. But first,
I’d like to know what those men intend to do with the yacht. Do you see
where they are going? Let’s walk around the beach. I want to keep her in
sight as long as I can, for I never expect to see her after to-night.”
Walter did not keep the Banner in sight five minutes after he spoke. She
had by this time reached the other side of the harbor, and disappeared
among the trees and bushes that lined the shore, having probably entered
a creek that flowed into the bay. With one accord the boys bent their
steps along the beach toward the spot where she had last been seen, not
with any intention of trying to recover possession of her, but simply
because they did not know what else to do.
It was fully three miles around the beach to the woods in which the
Banner had vanished from their view, but the boys had so much to talk
about that the distance did not seem nearly so great. Almost before
they were aware of it, they were stumbling about among the bushes, in
close proximity to the Banner’s hiding-place. Not deeming it policy to
attract the attention of her crew, they ceased their conversation and
became more cautious in their movements—a proceeding on which they had
reason to congratulate themselves; for, before they had gone fifty yards
farther, they saw the Banner’s tall, taper masts rising through the
bushes directly in advance of them. They looked about among the trees in
every direction, but could see no one. They listened, but no sound came
from the direction of the yacht. The same encouraging thought occurred
to each of the boys at the same moment, and Eugene was the first to give
utterance to it.
“Can it be possible, that the deserters have run her in here and left
her?” he asked, excitedly.
“It is possible, but hardly probable,” replied Walter. “They didn’t steal
her just to run her across the bay and leave her. They’re going to Havana
in her.”
“I know that. But if they are on board, why don’t we hear them talking or
walking about? They may have gone back to the village for something.”
“Then we should have met them,” said Walter. “But, if you say so, we’ll
go up nearer and reconnoitre. I’d like to have one more look at the
Banner, before I give her up for ever.”
“Go on,” said Perk. “If they are there, we need not show ourselves.”
Walter, throwing himself on his hands and knees, crept cautiously toward
the bank of the creek, and in a few minutes laid hold of the Banner’s
bob-stay, and drew himself to an erect position. The little vessel lay
close alongside the bank, held by a single line, her bowsprit being run
into the bushes. Her sails had been lowered, but were not furled, and
this made it evident that her captors had either hurriedly deserted
her, or that they intended very soon to get her under way again. The
boys listened, but could hear no movement on the deck. Afraid to give
utterance to the hopes that now arose in his mind, Walter looked toward
his companions, and receiving an encouraging nod from each, seized the
bob-stay again, and drawing himself up to the bowsprit, looked over the
rail. There was no one in sight. Slowly and carefully he made his way to
the deck, closely followed by Perk and Eugene, and presently they were
all standing beside the hatch that led into the galley. It was open,
and a close examination of the apartment below, showed them that it was
empty. There was still one room to be looked into, and that was the
cabin. If there was no one there, the Banner would be their own again in
less than thirty seconds.
Without an instant’s pause, Walter placed his hands on the combings of
the hatch, and lowered himself through, still closely followed by his
companions. The door leading into the cabin was closed but not latched.
Slowly and noiselessly it yielded to the pressure of Walter’s hand, and
swung open so that the boys could obtain a view of the interior of the
cabin. They looked, and all their hopes of recovering the yacht vanished
on the instant. Lying in different attitudes about the cabin—stretched
upon the lockers and on the floor were five stalwart men, all fast
asleep; and conspicuous among them was Pierre, the smuggler. Walter
hastily closed the door, and without saying a word, began to remove the
hatch that led into the hold.
“That’s the idea,” whispered Eugene. “We’ll rescue Bab before we go
ashore. Let me go down after him; I know he’s there.”
“We’ll all go down,” replied Walter; “and we’ll not go ashore at all if
we can help it. I, for one, don’t intend to leave the yacht again until
I am put off by a superior force. We’ll do as Tomlinson and his crowd
did—conceal ourselves in the hold until the Banner is so far out to sea
that we can’t be put off, and then we’ll come out.”
This was more than Perk and Eugene had bargained for. They believed it to
be rather a reckless piece of business to trust themselves in the power
of the new crew of the Banner. It was probably the best way to regain
control of the yacht—the deserters would have no use for her after they
reached Havana—but what if they should be angry when they found the boys
aboard, and vent their spite by treating them harshly? In that event,
they would be in a predicament indeed, for they could not get ashore, and
neither could they defend themselves against the attacks of grown men.
But if Walter was determined to stay, of course they would stay with him.
If he got into trouble, they would be near him to share it; and there
was some consolation in knowing that they could not get into much worse
situations than those they had already passed through. They followed him
when he lowered himself into the hold, and it was well they did so; for
when Perk, who brought up the rear, was half way through the hatch, some
one in the cabin uttered a loud yawn, and rising to his feet, approached
the door leading into the galley. As quick as a flash, Perk dropped into
the hold, closing the hatch after him; and immediately afterward, almost
before he had time to draw another breath, the cabin door opened, and the
man came in. The frightened and excited boys crouched close under the
hatch, afraid to move for fear of attracting his attention. They heard
him move something across the floor of the galley and step upon it; and
they knew by the first words he uttered that it was Pierre, and that he
was taking an observation of the weather.
“Roll out there, lads, and turn to!” he exclaimed. “By the time we get
the yacht turned round, and the sails hoisted, it will be dark. We’re
going to have a cloudy, breezy night for our run, and that’s just what we
want. Come, bullies, make a break, there.”
The order was followed by a general movement in the cabin, and the boys,
believing that the sound of the heavy footsteps overhead would drown any
noise they might make in moving about the hold, seized the opportunity
to look up a place of concealment among the water-butts and tool-chests.
Walter’s first care, however, was to look, or rather _feel_ for the
lantern which he and his brother always used when visiting the hold. It
was found hanging in its accustomed place. With the solitary match he
happened to have in his pocket he lighted the wick, and the first object
that was revealed to himself and companions was Bab, sitting with his
hands tied behind him and his back against one of the water-butts. The
prisoner, who, up to this time had believed that his visitors were some
of the deserters, was too amazed to speak. Indeed he did not try until
Eugene and Perk had untied his hands, and given him each a hearty slap on
the back by way of greeting.
“All the merest accident in the world, my boy,” said Eugene. “Such a
thing never happened before and never will again. We never expected to
see you on the yacht, either. Come up into this dark corner, and tell us
what you know of the plans of these men. Hallo! what’s this?”
While Eugene was speaking he was walking toward the after end of the
hold. On the way he stumbled over something, which, upon examination,
proved to be a long, narrow box, bearing upon its top a name and address:
“DON CASPER NEVIS, Port Platte, Cuba.”
“How did that box come here?” asked Walter, “I never saw it before. And
what are in those packages?” he added, pointing to a couple of bales that
lay near by.
“Here’s another box,” continued Eugene, “and it is so heavy I can
scarcely move it. There’s some printing on it, too. Hold your lantern
here.”
Walter did as his brother requested, and he and the rest, who crowded
about the box and looked over Eugene’s shoulder, read the same name and
address they had seen on the other box; and underneath, in smaller print
were the words: “Percussion Cartridges.”
“Now just listen to me a minute and I’ll tell you what’s a fact,” said
Perk. “Here are the bullets—I don’t know how they came here, but they’re
_here_—and if we only had the guns to throw them, we could clear the
yacht’s deck of these interlopers in less time than it takes to tell it.”
“Well, I declare!” exclaimed Walter suddenly, and in tones indicative of
great surprise.
“Made any more discoveries?” asked Perk.
“I have,” replied the young captain, who by the aid of his lantern, was
closely scrutinizing the long box. “Here are the very things you are
wishing for. Just listen to this: One dozen Spencer’s army carbines.”
The boys could scarcely believe their ears; they wanted the evidence of
their eyes to back it up. With a volley of ejaculations, which in their
excitement they uttered in tones altogether too loud, they gathered about
the box, looked at the words Walter had read to them, then rubbed their
eyes and looked again.
“Well, now I am beat,” said Bab.
“I’d give something to know how these articles came here,” observed
Walter, deeply perplexed.
“Can it be possible that they were brought aboard by the deserters, who
intend to start out on a piratical cruise on their own hook?” asked Perk.
While the three boys were discussing the matter in this way, Eugene, who
was the first to recover himself, took the lantern from his brother’s
hand, and creeping forward to the carpenter’s chest, soon returned with
a screw-driver. While one held the light, and the others looked on, he
set to work upon the long box, and presently the lid was removed and the
interior disclosed to view. There they were, a half a dozen bran new
breech-loaders, and under them were as many more of the same sort. While
Eugene was handing them out, Perk seized the screw-driver, and in five
minutes more the cover of the ammunition box had been taken off, and four
of the carbines were loaded and ready for use.
“Now, then, lead on, Walter!” exclaimed Eugene, triumphantly. “One rush,
and she’s ours. Won’t those villains be surprised when they see the
muzzles of four seven-shooters looking them squarely in the face? Why,
fellows, they’ve got the yacht under sail already.”
If Eugene had said that the Banner had left the creek behind, and was
well on her way toward the entrance to the harbor, he would have been
nearly right.