THE BANNER UNDER FIRE.
While Walter and his friends were engaged in unpacking the boxes
containing the carbines and ammunition, Pierre and his crew had been
equally busy on deck. By the time they had turned the yacht around with
her bow toward the mouth of the creek and hoisted the sails, it was pitch
dark, and her captain determined to begin the voyage at once. The boys
below were so intent upon their investigations, and so astonished at
their discoveries, that they did not know that the yacht was in motion;
but when she got out into the harbor where she felt the full force of the
breeze, they speedily became aware of the fact, for the Banner, following
her usual custom, rolled over until her front gunwale was almost level
with the water, and Walter and his companions slid down to the lee side
of the hold as easily as if the floor had been ice, and they mounted on
skates. Shut out as they were from view of surrounding objects, and being
beyond the reach of the voices of the men on deck, they were saved the
anxiety and alarm they would have felt, had they known all that happened
during the next half hour. They were in blissful ignorance of the fact
that they were that night under fire for the first time in their lives,
but such was the truth; and this was the way it came about.
Had Tomlinson and his men known all that Pierre knew, the voyage to
Havana would never have been undertaken. The latter was well aware of the
fact that more than one cargo of arms and ammunition had been smuggled
into that very port for the use of the Cuban insurgents—he ought to have
known it, for he belonged to the vessel engaged in the business—and
he had also learned that the Stella was suspected, and that vigilant
officers were keeping an eye on all her movements. He knew, further,
that certain things had been done by Mr. Bell that afternoon, calculated
to draw the attention of the Spanish officials, from the Stella to the
Banner; that she would be closely watched; that she had been seen to
cross the harbor and enter the creek; that an attempt would be made to
board and search her before she left the port; and that in case the
attempt failed, a Spanish frigate was close at hand to pursue her, and
the fort on the point was ready to open fire upon her. But knowing all
these things as well as he did, he was willing to attempt to smuggle the
Banner out of the harbor, for he was working for money.
Hugging the shore as closely as the depth of the water would permit, the
yacht sped on her way toward the point, the crew standing in silence at
their posts, and Pierre himself handling the wheel. With the exception
of the lamp in the binnacle, and the lantern in the hold which the boys
were using, there was not a light about her, and no one spoke a word,
not even in a whisper. But with all these precautions, the yacht did not
leave the harbor unobserved. Just as she arrived off the point on which
the fort was situated, a light suddenly appeared in her course. It came
from a dark lantern. The man who carried it was the same officer who had
boarded the vessel in the morning, and who, for reasons of his own, had
made the young sailors believe that he could not speak their language. He
was standing in the stern-sheets of a large yawl, which was filled with
armed men, ready to board the yacht, when she came to, in obedience to
his hail.
“Banner ahoy!” yelled the officer, in as plain English as Walter himself
could have commanded.
“There they are, cap’n,” whispered Tomlinson, who had been stationed in
the bow to act as lookout. “A cutter, and a dozen men in her. Are you
going to answer the hail?”
“Leave all that to me. Come here and take the wheel, and hold her just
as she is,” said Pierre; and when Tomlinson obeyed the order, the new
captain hurried to the rail, and looked toward the yawl.
“Banner ahoy!” shouted the officer again, as the schooner flew past his
boat.
“Yaw! Vat you want?” answered Pierre, imitating as nearly as he could the
broken English of a German.
“Lie to!” commanded the officer.
“Vas?” yelled Pierre.
“Lie to, I say. I want to come aboard of you.”
“Nix forstay!”
“That won’t go down, my friend; I know you,” said the officer, angrily.
“Give away, strong,” he added, addressing himself to his crew. “You had
better stop and let me come aboard.”
Pierre seemed very anxious to understand. He moved aft as the Banner went
on, leaving the boat behind, and even leaned as far as he could over the
taffrail, and placed his hand behind his ear as if trying to catch the
officer’s words. But he did not stop; he knew better. The boat followed
the yacht a short distance, and then turned and went swiftly toward the
point, the officer waving his lantern in air as if making signals to some
one. When Pierre saw that, he knew there were exciting times ahead.
“Give me the wheel, now,” said he; “and do you go for’ard and heave the
lead until I tell you to stop. Station a man in the waist to pass the
word, and tell him not to speak too loud. Tell two others to stand by the
sheets, and send Bob aloft to unfurl the topsails. We have need of all
the rags we can spread now.”
“What’s up?” asked Tomlinson, with some anxiety.
“There’ll be a good deal up if we don’t get away from here in a hurry,”
replied Pierre; “more than you think for. But if you do as I tell you, I
will bring you through all right. That fort will open on us in less than
five minutes, and if that don’t stop us, we’ll have to run a race with a
man o’ war.”
Tomlinson waited to hear no more. Resigning the wheel into Pierre’s
hands, he ran forward, and the latter, as soon as the men had been
stationed at the fore and main sheets, changed the yacht’s course,
heading her across a bar at the entrance to the harbor, and standing
close along shore. The wisdom of this manœuvre was very soon made
apparent. In less than ten minutes afterward, there was a bright flash
behind them, accompanied by a shrieking sound in the air, and a twelve
pound shell went skipping along the waves and burst far in advance of
the yacht. Had she been in the channel, which vessels of large size were
obliged to follow in going in and out of the harbor, she would have been
directly in range of it. Another and another followed, and finally every
gun on the seaward side of the fort was sending its missiles in the
direction the Banner was supposed to have gone. The deserters looked and
listened in amazement; but finding that they were out of reach of the
shells, their alarm began to abate.
“Now, this is like old times,” exclaimed Bob, placing his left hand
behind his back, extending his right, and glancing along the yacht’s
rail, in the attitude of the captain of a gun when about to pull the
lock-string. “Don’t I wish this craft was the old Indianola, as good as
she was the day she ran the batteries at Vicksburg, and I had one of
those eleven-inch guns under my eye, loaded with a five-second shell?”
“You’ll wish for her many a time to-night, for the fun isn’t over yet,”
observed Pierre. “It is only just beginning. Now keep silence, fore and
aft, so that I can hear what Tom has to say about the water.”
For an hour Tomlinson kept heaving the lead, passing the word back to
Pierre with every throw, and all this while the Banner, with every inch
of her canvas spread, bounded along as close to the shore as her captain
dared to go. For fifteen minutes of this time the fort continued to send
its shots and shells along the channel, and then the firing ceased and
all was still again. Pierre kept close watch of the shore as the yacht
flew along, and finally turning into a little bay, sailed up within sight
of a stone jetty that put out from the shore, and came to anchor. This
was Don Casper’s wharf Pierre knew it, for he had often been there; and
he knew too that a short distance away, among the negro quarters, was a
storehouse containing an abundance of corn-meal, flour and bacon. This
was the place to secure the provisions.
“There!” exclaimed the captain, as the Banner swung around with her head
to the waves, “we’re so far on our way to Havana, and we haven’t been
long getting here, either. Now we’ve no time to lose. Who’s the best
swimmer in the party?”
“I am,” said Tomlinson confidently.
“Well, then, come here. Do you see that wharf out there, and the yawls
lying alongside of it? Just swim out and bring one of ’em back, and
we’ll go ashore and get the grub. Be in a hurry, for we want to get our
business done and put to sea again before that man-o’-war comes up and
blockades us.”
Tomlinson at once divested himself of his pea-jacket, overshirt and
shoes, and plunging fearlessly into the waves made his way to the
shore. While there, notwithstanding Pierre’s suggestion that haste was
desirable, he took it into his head to reconnoitre the plantation. He
found the storehouse, and saw the overseer—the same man who liberated
Chase and Wilson from the wine-cellar—serving out provisions to the
negroes. After noting the position of the building, so that he could
easily find it again, he secured one of the yawls, hoisted a sail in it,
and returning to the yacht brought off his companions. Pierre knowing
more than the deserters, and believing that it might not be quite safe to
trust himself too far away from the yacht, remained at the wharf, while
Tomlinson and the rest of the deserters, armed with handspikes which they
had brought from the vessel, went to the storehouse after the provisions.
And what were the boys in the hold doing all this while? They would
not have believed that a full hour and a half had elapsed since they
discovered and liberated Bab, for they were busy and the time flew
quickly by. In the first place, each boy crammed his pockets full of
cartridges and took possession of one of the carbines, and the rest were
carefully hidden among the ballast, for fear that they might by some
accident fall into the hands of the deserters. When this had been done,
Eugene, with his usual impetuosity and lack of prudence, began to urge
an immediate attack upon the captors of the yacht; but Walter and Perk
thought it best to adhere to the original plan, and keep themselves
concealed until the yacht was well out to sea, or, at all events, until
she was clear of the harbor. They argued that when the attack was made it
would produce something of a commotion on deck, which might attract the
attention of the crews of some of the neighboring vessels, and perhaps of
the Spanish officials; and, although the Banner was their own property,
and they had as good a right in Cuba as any of their countrymen, they
did not wish to be called upon to make any explanations. Bab sided with
Walter and Perk, and Eugene was obliged to yield. It was well that he
did not carry his point, for had the lawful captain of the yacht been in
command when she was hailed by the revenue officer, he would have obeyed
the order to lie to, and he and his crew would have been carried back
to town and thrown into jail as smugglers. The officer would have found
proof against them too; and such proof as Walter knew nothing about.
It being decided at last that Walter’s plan was the best, the boys, in
order to gratify their curiosity, proceeded to examine the contents of
the bales they had found in the hold. The first contained artillery
sabres, and Eugene buckled one about his waist; but the others declined
to follow his example, believing that the carbines were all the weapons
they needed. The other two packages contained officers’ sashes, one of
which Eugene also appropriated. While thus engaged they heard the roar of
the guns from the fort, but they little dreamed that they were pointed
in the direction the yacht was supposed to have gone. Shut in as they
were on all sides by tight wooden walls, the sound seemed to them to come
from a great distance. They accounted for the firing in various ways—the
soldiers were rejoicing over some decisive victory the Spaniards had
gained over the insurgents; or they were engaged in artillery practice;
or perhaps a skirmish was going on back of the town. So little interested
were they in the matter, that, after the first few shots, they ceased
to pay any attention to the noise. They had their own affairs to think
and talk about: what could have become of Chase and Wilson—they had
searched the hold without finding any traces of them—and who had brought
the arms and ammunition aboard? Where had Fred Craven and his keepers
gone so suddenly? and what should be done with the unlawful crew of the
yacht after they had been secured? By the time these points had been
talked over, the Banner had accomplished the ten miles that lay between
the harbor and the bay at the rear of Don Casper’s plantation, and then
Walter declared that Pierre and Tomlinson had had charge of the vessel
long enough, and that it was time he was claiming his rights again. The
boys were ready to move at the word. It was a novel and perhaps desperate
thing they were about to undertake, but not one of them hesitated.
Grasping their weapons with a firmer hold, they followed closely after
Walter, and gathered silently about him as he stopped under the hatch.
“Are we all ready?” asked the young commander, in an excited whisper. “I
will throw off the hatch, and, Bab, be sure you are ready to hand me my
carbine the moment I jump out. If any of the deserters hear the noise and
come into the galley to see what is going on, I will keep them at bay
until you come up. If we find them on deck, let each fellow pick out a
man, cover him with his gun, and order him into the hold.”
“Yes, and see that he goes, too,” added Eugene.
“Perk, blow out that lantern. Stand by, fellows!”
The boys crouched like so many tigers ready for a spring; but just as
Walter placed his hands upon the hatch, preparatory to throwing it off, a
few harshly spoken words of command came faintly to their ears, followed
by the rattling of the chain through the hawse hole, and a sudden
cessation of motion, telling the young sailors that the yacht had come to
anchor. This caused Walter to hesitate; and after a few whispered words
with his companions, they all sat down on the floor of the hold under the
hatch to await developments. But nothing new transpired. The yacht was as
silent as the grave; and after half an hour of inactivity, the patience
of the young tars was all exhausted, and once more preparations were made
for the attack. Walter handed his carbine to Bab, and lifting the hatch
quickly, but noiselessly, from its place, swung himself out of the hold
into the galley. The others followed with all possible haste, and when
the last one had come out, Walter pushed open the door of the cabin and
rushed in. The room was empty. Without a moment’s pause, he ran toward
the standing room, and when he got there, found himself in undisputed
possession of his vessel, no one being on deck to oppose him. The yacht
was deserted by all save himself and companions. The young tars,
scarcely able to realize the fact, hurried about, peeping into all sorts
of improbable places, and when at last they had satisfied themselves that
the deserters were really gone, their joy knew no bounds.
“It’s all right, fellows!” cried Walter, gleefully. “She’s ours, and
we’ve got her without a fight, too. I have some curiosity to know where
those men have gone, but we’ll not stop to inquire. Stand by to get under
way.”
“Shall I slip the cable?” asked Eugene.
“No,” answered Walter. “I can’t see the beauty of throwing away a good
chain and anchor when there’s no occasion for it. Let’s man the capstan.”
While two of the crew busied themselves in removing the chain from the
bitts to the little horizontal capstan with which the yacht was provided,
the others brought the handspikes from their places, and presently the
schooner began walking slowly up to her anchor. The boys worked manfully,
and presently Eugene looked over the bow and announced that the anchor
was apeak.
“Go to the wheel, Perk,” said Walter. “Heave away, the rest of us.
Cheerily, lads!”
Perk at once hurried aft, but just as he laid his hand on the wheel he
stopped short, gazed intently over the stern toward the shore, and then
quietly made his way forward again. “Now I’ll tell you what’s a fact,” he
whispered; “you’d better work that capstan a little livelier, for they’re
coming.”
“Who are coming?” asked all the boys at once.
“Well, there’s a yawl close aboard of us, and if you can tell who is in
it, you will do more than I can.”
The young sailors looked in the direction Perk pointed, and saw a
sailboat swiftly approaching the yacht. To heave the anchor clear of the
ground and get under way before she came alongside, was impossible, for
she was already within a few rods of the vessel.
“Stand by to keep them off,” said Walter, catching up his carbine. “We
don’t want to hurt any of them if we can help it, but bear in mind that
they must not, under any circumstances, be allowed to come over the side.”
The boys, with their weapons in their hands, hurried to the rail, and
Walter was on the point of hailing the boat, and warning the deserters
that any attempt to board the yacht would be stubbornly resisted, when
he discovered that she had but one occupant. The others became aware of
the fact at the same moment, and Eugene declared that it was none other
than Pierre Coulte. “Let him come aboard, fellows,” he added, “and we’ll
make him tell where Featherweight went to-day in such a hurry. We may
learn something to our advantage.”
Before his companions had time either to consent to, or reject this
proposition, the yawl rounded to under the bow of the Banner, and a head
appeared above the rail. The boys crouched close to the deck, and in a
few seconds more a human figure leaped into view, and after looking all
about the yacht, ran toward the capstan. On his way he passed within
reach of Walter, who thrust out both his sinewy arms, and wrapping them
about the intruder’s legs, prostrated him in an instant. No sooner had he
touched the deck than Perk, who was always on the alert, threw himself
across the man’s shoulders, and seizing both his hands, held them fast.
The stranger lay for an instant overcome with surprise at this unexpected
reception, and then began to show his disapproval by the most frantic
struggles; and although he was firmly held, he gave evidence of
possessing uncommon strength and determination. But it was not Pierre
they had got hold of, as they quickly discovered. There was something
about him that reminded them of somebody else. Perk, at least, thought
so, for he bent his head nearer to the stranger’s, remarking as he did so:
“Now I’ll tell you what’s a fact—”
When he had said this much he paused, and started as if he had been shot,
for a familiar voice interrupted him with—
“I say, Perk, if that’s you, you needn’t squeeze all the breath out of
me.”
“Wilson!” cried the crew of the Banner, in concert.
Perk jumped to his feet, pulling the prisoner up with him. It was Wilson
and no mistake.