The first thing to be done was to warn the remainder of the party that
the mutineers were close at hand, lest some incautious noise might
betray the fact of their being on the key, and to this end Captain
Mansfield hurried to the head of the little cove.
Old Andy was the only one awake, and to him the captain whispered:
“The villains who seized the _Day Dream_ are becalmed within twenty
fathoms of the shore. See to it that----”
The darky looked up in alarm, his eyes seemingly starting from their
sockets, and he was on the verge of giving vent to a cry of fear when
Captain Mansfield seized him by the throat.
“Don’t you dare so much as wink, or I’ll choke the breath out of your
body,” he whispered, angrily, and the old man sank to his knees the
very personification of terror. “Now listen carefully, and see that you
do as I tell you. See to it that there is no noise made here. When the
others awake tell them to remain quiet until I return.”
There was no longer any danger that Andy would betray the secret by an
incautious move. The threat terrified him even more than the knowledge
of the mutineers’ whereabouts, and Captain Mansfield retraced his
steps to the point where he had left the mate.
During the short time he had been absent the general condition of
affairs on the schooner’s deck was changed considerably.
The mutineers had come from below, probably after a night’s debauch,
and the sound of angry conversation told that a quarrel was imminent.
“What has happened?” the captain asked Mr. Jenkins, in a whisper.
“I don’t know. They came out of the cabin a few seconds ago, and this
row appears to be a continuation of what started below.”
“It will be a fortunate happening for us, if they get into a fight.”
“Possibly,” the mate replied, hesitatingly; “but I fail to see how it
is going to be possible for us to accomplish anything without weapons
when that crowd are well armed, if they have taken the trouble to
search the cabin, which I reckon has been done long before this.”
“We shall find a way out of it, if the calm continues. Give me a chance
to get over the bow before they know we’re in the vicinity, and I’ll
take the risk of their weapons.”
The discussion on the yacht was fast degenerating into a regular row.
The men were talking so loudly that a reasonably good idea of the
condition of affairs could be gained by the listeners.
Several of the mutineers were insisting on making this particular
key a sort of rendezvous, and demanding that a certain lot of goods
(probably something they had saved from the _Mary and Jane_) should be
brought here.
Another faction, and among them the leader, wanted to run for the
Florida Straits, in order to remain hidden among the keys until search
for the yacht should be abandoned. They believed, and with good reason,
that Captain Mansfield would not tamely submit to the loss of his
vessel, and, since the weather had been favorable for navigation in a
small boat, it was more than probable those who had been dispossessed
would succeed in reaching Nassau.
Greatly to the disappointment of the two concealed among the foliage
on shore, the men did not come to blows, although each instant it
seemed as if such would be the case. After squabbling for twenty
minutes or more the mutineers appeared to have come to some kind of an
understanding, and a quantity of the cabin stores were brought on deck
for breakfast.
Each one appeared to be his own cook, and the wastefulness displayed
would have brought tears of vexation to Andy’s eyes. A tin of beef,
which one fellow opened, was tossed overboard after he had taken out
two slices.
A box of biscuit was left on the house that each might help himself,
and the greater portion used in firing on a wager at a floating bottle.
This kind of horseplay came to an end finally, and then the
half-drunken crew began lowering one of the boats.
“It is possible that our opportunity is near at hand,” Captain
Mansfield whispered. “It looks as if some of them were coming ashore,
and it is time the rest of our party were ready for action. Creep back
softly, and send them to me. Then pole our boat as near the mouth of
the cove as is safe.”
By a chance as fortunate and unexpected as had been the coming of the
_Day Dream_, all the mutineers but two prepared to go on shore, and,
as nearly as Captain Mansfield could judge, each man had armed himself
either with a rifle or revolver, thus exhausting the supply of weapons
on board.
“It will be nothing more than child’s play now, provided they do
not land too near here,” he whispered to himself, and just as the
boats pushed off from the schooner, Gil and Nelse crept close to the
watcher’s side.
“Is there any chance of our getting the yacht again?” the former asked;
but his father motioned for him to be silent.
The remainder of the party came up before the mutineers were
half-a-dozen yards from the vessel, and a few moments later Captain
Mansfield saw, to his dismay, that the men intended to land directly in
front of his hiding-place.
It seemed as if this must be a deathblow to all his plans, and the boys
mentally braced themselves for the struggle both believed to be at hand.
The men rowed leisurely, singing and laughing, evidently fancying
themselves the only human beings in the vicinity, and the little tender
struck the beach not more than a dozen feet from where the anxious ones
were concealed.
The bows of the boats were pulled up on the sand to prevent them from
drifting away, and then the mutineers pushed straight on into the
thicket, probably bent on exploring the key to learn if it would serve
them as a rendezvous.
They were making so much noise that the watchers might have conversed
in ordinary tones; but Captain Mansfield did not take any such chances,
when he whispered to Gil:
“You and Nelse go back to where Jenkins is waiting with the boat. Send
him to me, and get on board. Move cautiously down to the very mouth of
the cove, and stay there, with oars in the rowlocks, until you see us
push one of these crafts from the shore. Then row for the schooner the
best you know how.”
This was no time to ask questions, and the orders were obeyed instantly.
Mr. Jenkins was but a short distance away, and when Gil had repeated
his father’s instructions the mate hurried off, leaving the boys to
carry out their part of the programme unaided.
“Father is probably going to try to get hold of the other two boats,”
Gil whispered, as he clambered inboard, “and if the mutineers see us
while we are pulling out to the schooner we shall have the chance of
learning how it seems to be shot at.”
“I’d rather receive a pretty serious wound than let those scoundrels
go off with the yacht again, now there’s a possibility of our gaining
possession once more,” Nelse said, and by the time he ceased speaking
both were in the little craft, each with an oar ready to pull at the
first signal.
The voices of the mutineers now sounded from a distance, and it was not
likely they could have a view of the water because of the intervening
foliage; but yet Captain Mansfield’s party gave no sign of action.
Ten minutes passed, and Gil was beginning to grow alarmed lest his
father should wait too long, when a light splash of water was heard,
and one of the tenders shot out from the shore with the two sailors
rowing and Andy at the helm.
“Now bend to it,” Gil whispered, hoarsely. “Watch to see that one
doesn’t pull the other around, for there mustn’t be any wild steering.”
The boys were out of the cove just as the captain and Mr. Jenkins
launched the last boat, and all three crafts were dashing over the
glassy sea in fine style, sending tiny showers of spray up from their
bows, when a loud yell was heard.
The two fellows on the schooner had caught a glimpse of the captain’s
party, and were shouting for their friends.
“It’s a question of reaching the other side of the yacht before they
heave in sight, or we may come to grief,” Gil said, grimly, as he bent
his back to the oar until the ashen blade bent under the vigorous
strain.
“Board her over the rail amidships, boys!” Captain Mansfield shouted,
and glancing around for the merest fraction of time, Nelse saw that the
sailors were steering for the schooner’s bow, while the other boat was
being sent toward the stern.
By thus dividing the force, the mutineers would be beset both from
front and rear, while Gil and Nelse created diversion on one side, and
the struggle could not be long protracted.
The men on the yacht were yelling at the full strength of their lungs,
and stood near the bow with handspikes raised ready to fell the first
who should attempt to come on board; but they could not guard the
stern at the same time, therefore the captain and mate succeeded in
clambering over the rail before the fellows were fully aware of their
purpose.
The boys had just pulled around the _Day Dream_ when the main body of
mutineers burst out of the bushes, and the shower of bullets which they
sent, without waiting to take accurate aim, did no injury to any one.
Mr. Jenkins had opened the battle by hurling a handspike with such good
effect that the taller sailor was knocked over like a ninepin, and
the other, realizing how useless it would be to contend against such
odds, leaped into the sea, swimming for dear life as those on the shore
continued to discharge their weapons.
“Keep under the rail as much as possible,” Captain Mansfield shouted,
as he set the example by crouching where he could get a view of the
shore without exposing too much of his body. “They can’t have any very
great amount of ammunition, and it isn’t likely either of that crowd
has got the nerve to swim out here.”
Andy was the only one who did not follow this suggestion instantly. The
old darky was so elated at the complete turning of the tables that it
seemed absolutely necessary to give vent in some way to his joy.
He danced around the deck in full view of the angry men on shore,
shouting in a sing-song tone:
“Wese done got de bes’ ob dem villyns! Glory to de Lam’! Wese ’board de
yacht once mo’! Glory to de Lam’! Wese gwine---- Hi, yi, yi!”
These last exclamations were by no means a portion of his song of
triumph; but just at that moment a bullet from one of the rifles had
grazed the top of his ear, causing more pain than a really serious
wound would have done, and, with a howl of terror, he flung himself
down by Captain Mansfield’s side, where he alternately moaned and
continued to cry:
“Glory to de Lam’!”