IN WHICH ERNEST FINDS THERE IS TREASON IN THE CAMP.
What had become of the boats? I was a commodore without a squadron,
and I felt so cheap that I would have sold out my commission for
sixpence, and thrown myself in. The boats had been carefully secured,
under my own direction, in the little inlet, and they could not have
drifted away, I looked at Bob Hale, and Bob Hale looked at me; but
neither of us could explain the disappearance of the fleet.
"An enemy hath done this," I began, in Scripture phrase.
"Of course it couldn't have been done by a friend," added Tom Rush.
"It's lucky we have a good stock of provisions on hand."
"But the stock won't last forever," suggested Bob.
"We are not going to be starved out in a week, or a year, for that
matter," I interposed. "We are not to be broken up by any such
accident as this."
"The commodore is spunky," laughed Bob, who was always good-natured,
whatever happened.
"I am not to be put down by any such expedient as this taking away the
boats. When I want to visit the main shore, I shall do so, boat or no
boat," I replied; for I already saw how I could counteract the
misfortune of the loss of our squadron.
"Parasyte has snuffed us out, I suppose, and sent a party up here in
the night to take the boats," continued Bob Hale. "He means to starve
us out."
"He will discover his mistake. But let us take a look round the
island; perhaps we may find out what has become of the boats;" and I
led the way to the nearest point, at which a sentinel had been
stationed.
The student on watch there knew nothing of the absence of the boats.
There had been no alarm given at the guard tent. We walked around the
island without obtaining any information of the lost squadron. We
reported the mishap to Vallington, who was both surprised and
indignant.
The occupants of the guard tent were all turned out, and those who had
been on watch during the night were examined; but none of them knew
anything about the boats. They had not heard any noise during the
night, or seen anything on the lake. The general then mustered the
company, and after stating what had occurred, called for any
information; but no one had any to give.
"Where is Bill Poodles?" suddenly demanded Bob Hale, as he glanced
around among the students.
"He is not here," replied Tom Rush, after he had scrutinized all the
faces.
"And Dick Pearl?"
"Not here."
"Is any of the party that came off that night present?" demanded the
general.
"No," answered several, after each fellow had looked his neighbor full
in the face.
"That's what's the matter!" exclaimed Bob Hale. "Bill Poodles and the
rest of them have run away with the boats; and in my opinion that's
what they joined us for."
A further examination convinced all present that this was the fact. It
looked as though Mr. Parasyte had sent off the ten boys who joined us
on the first night, to rob us of the boats. We remembered the dismay
with which Pearl and Poodles had listened to the announcement of our
intended removal from Cleaver Island, and were fully confirmed in our
view of the traitors' purpose.
We found that the conspirators had all occupied the same tent, and one
of the fellows who slept with them now remembered that he had half
waked up, and heard Dick Pearl talking in a low tone to some one.
Vallington called up the sentinels again, and spoke pretty sharply to
them of their neglect of duty.
"It would have been impossible for them to carry off the boats if you
had been awake; and now you have got us into a pretty scrape. We shall
have to back out, and march back to the Institute like whipped
puppies," said he, with becoming indignation.
But the sentinels protested that they had kept awake all the time.
"Tell that to a dead mule, and he would kick your brains out," replied
the general. "Who stood at the south station?"
"I did from ten till twelve," answered Joe Slivers; "and I am sure no
boat went out of the cove during that time."
"And who from twelve till two?" continued the general.
No one answered.
"Who was it--don't you know?" demanded Vallington, sternly.
"I know," replied Ben Lyons. "It was Carl Dorner, for I had the north
station at the same time."
"Carl Dorner!" exclaimed Bob Hale. "He was one of the Poodles party."
"That accounts for it," added Vallington. "Who had the east station
from twelve till two?"
"Mat Murray," replied Slivers.
"He's another of the Poodles tribe," added Bob. "It's as clear as mud
now. We put traitors on guard, and we are sold out."
"Ben Lyons, you had the north station from twelve till two," continued
the general.
"I did; but I was nearly half a mile from the cove," replied the
sentinel.
"And Carl Dorner and Mat Murray had the east and south stations at the
same time."
"They did."
"Who called the fellows that were to relieve you?"
"I did," answered Lyons.
"Didn't you miss Dorner and Murray?"
"I didn't notice them; but I did see the three fellows who went on
guard at two o'clock. They started for their stations, and I turned
in, without thinking anything about Dorner and Murray."
It further appeared that the two traitors had used some "shuffling" to
obtain the east and south stations. It was evident now that the
conspirators had executed their plan shortly after midnight, while
their associates were on guard at the two posts where their operations
could be seen or heard. The south station was on a point of land which
commanded a full view of the cove where the boats lay. From the east
station the lake in the direction of Parkville and Cannondale could be
seen. From the north station, which was considerably farther west
than either of the other posts, nothing could be seen on the south
side of the island.
If the conspirators had gone to the eastward with the boats, they
could easily have kept out of sight of the sentinel at the north
station--the only true one on duty when the mischief was done--by
hugging the main south shore of the lake. If they had gone to the
westward, or farther away from Parkville,--which was not likely,--they
could not have been seen by Ben Lyons till they had gone at least a
mile.
In the mud at the bottom of the cove we found a pole sticking up,
which the traitors had probably used in pushing the scow out into the
lake. This showed us in what manner they had gone to work; but I was
satisfied that they had not attempted to tow the scow any distance; it
would not have been possible for them to do so. It was comparatively
easy to move her with setting-poles, but they could have done nothing
with the unwieldy craft in the deep water. I therefore concluded that
they had merely pushed her out into the lake, and then turned her
adrift. It was probable that she had been driven ashore by the
north-west wind somewhere in the vicinity of Cannondale.
What the conspirators had done with the Splash was not so clear to me,
for not one of them knew anything about the management of a sail-boat.
She had a pair of oars on board, and it was probable they had rowed
her, as they had the other boats. All the sentinels agreed in their
statements that the wind had blown pretty fresh in the night, and I
was not quite willing to believe that the ten faithless ones had
pulled the four boats the whole distance to Parkville, which was nine
miles, in the heavy sea that must have been caused by a brisk
north-west wind. They were not boatmen enough to undertake such a job,
or to carry it through if they did attempt it.
Cannondale lay to the south-east of Pine Island, and with the
prevailing wind of the night, it was an easy matter to accomplish the
two miles which lay between them. After a great deal of thinking,
reasoning, and studying, I came to the conclusion that the Splash,
and perhaps two or three of the four row-boats,--for the conspirators
had added one to our original number,--were not farther off than
Cannondale. The wind was still fresh from the north-west, and the
traitors would hardly care to pull even a single boat eight miles. The
steamer, on her way to Parkville, would touch at Cannondale about one
o'clock, and I surmised that the deserters would return in her.
I made up my mind, in view of these facts and suppositions, that it
would be advisable for some of our party to visit Cannondale before
one o'clock. Pine Island had sometimes been used as a picnic ground,
and the people had been conveyed thither in a steamer. Near the south
station, in the deepest water, there was a rude pier of logs built
out, for the convenience of landing the parties. This loose structure
suggested to me the means of reaching the main shore; and, without
waiting for breakfast, I "piped" away my boatmen, and proceeded to
build a raft.
Placing three large logs in the water, we lashed them together, and
covered them with short pieces of board, from the ruins of an old
cook-house on the island. The job was finished when breakfast was
ready, about seven o'clock, including a mast and sail, the latter made
of the curtain of a tent. The preparations I had been making had a
wonderful effect in warming up the spirits of the boys, considerably
depressed by the prospective calamities which were supposed to lie in
the wake of the loss of our boats; and at least three quarters of them
applied to me for permission to join my expedition to the main shore.
I determined, however, to take but four with me, among whom were Bob
Hale and Tom Rush.
As soon as we had eaten a hearty breakfast, we embarked, and hoisted
the sail on our clumsy craft. When she had passed out of the cove, she
took the breeze, and went off at a very satisfactory pace towards
Cannondale, plunging and rolling in the heavy sea like a ship in a
gale. With us as navigators, "the die was cast," for it would be
impossible to return to the island unless the wind changed, for the
raft would only go before it.
The craft dived down and jumped up, and every wave swept completely
over it; but we had taken off our shoes and stockings, and rolled up
our trousers' legs, so that we suffered no inconvenience. The fresh
breeze carried us over in about half an hour, and the raft was thrown
high and dry on the beach, a quarter of a mile below the town.