GASTON GIDDINGS MAKES TROUBLE
THE second pair of bullets passed overhead, though close enough for
their whistling song to be heard.
In a jiffy there was a mad scramble to get away from the bridge. Captain
Tom Halstead and Third Officer Costigan had that place to themselves.
"Throw the wheel over three points to the starboard! Hold to a course
three points off the present one," called Halstead, sharply.
"You men answer with your revolvers," was Mr. Jephson's order.
"Our revolvers wouldn't carry that far, sir," objected one of the deputy
marshals.
"I know it, but let those scoundrels discover that we have firearms
too," retorted the district attorney's assistant.
So the futile revolver shots flashed out. In answer a rifle bullet
carried away the hat of one of the deputies.
"That's confounded close shooting," coolly uttered the unhatted one,
running down the deck after his head gear.
Another shot flew by close to the searchlight.
"That's the mark the scoundrels are aiming at," muttered the young
skipper, angrily. "Turn off the current, Mr. Costigan, and I'll unship
the light."
This done, the big reflector and the bulb behind it were taken down to
the pilot house by one of the sailors.
"You confounded pirates!" roared the district attorney, shaking his fist
in the direction of the "Victor."
"That _was_ actual piracy, wasn't it?" questioned Mr. Baldwin.
"Nothing else!" retorted the assistant, angrily, as he came down aft to
place the wheel house between himself and that other craft. "If we ever
get that captain and crew on shore we'll make 'em smart in a trial for
piracy!"
Having veered off the course of direct pursuit, Captain Halstead was now
steering ahead, meaning to run parallel with the "Victor." He kept half
a mile away, but, even had the other craft lowered its running lights,
the starlight was bright enough to enable the bridge officer to keep the
"Victor" in sight.
"Try to keep just this distance, Mr. Costigan," directed Tom Halstead.
"Aye, aye, sir."
Tom then descended to the deck, where he sauntered up to the excited
group.
"What's your guess, Halstead, as to the meaning of those shots?"
questioned Mr. Baldwin.
"Well, of course," replied Tom, slowly, "the master of that other yacht
would be glad to see our searchlight smashed. That was one reason for
the firing."
"And another?"
"Why, I imagine, sir, those people want us to know that they carry
rifles. They want to show us the folly of thinking we can pursue and
board them."
"This pursuit should really have been undertaken by a naval vessel or
revenue cutter," said Mr. Jephson, rather disgustedly. "One shot from
the bowgun of an armed vessel would bring that yacht lying to in a
jiffy."
"Humph!" grunted the practical Mr. Baldwin. "There isn't a cutter or
gunboat in San Francisco waters fast enough to overtake either of these
boats."
"I don't understand, sir," put in Halstead, quietly, "why you haven't
had a wireless telegraph apparatus installed aboard this yacht. Why,
even the little fifty-five foot boat that Dawson and I own has a
wireless installation."
"What would you do with one, if you had it on board now?" asked Mr.
Baldwin.
"Do?" repeated Halstead. "Why, we could signal in all directions. There
may be some fast cruiser or torpedo boat destroyer, out of our sight,
yet within reach by wireless. If we could pick up one such vessel now,
we could soon end this chase, and without bloodshed. Even any foreign
war vessel would answer, for all war vessels have the right to overhaul
and capture pirates. Any warship of any nation in the world would act,
now, on a request from Mr. Jephson, who represents the United States.
And such help may be not twenty miles off, but we have no wireless with
which to find out."
"As we haven't a wireless installation," pursued Mr. Baldwin, "what are
we going to do now, Mr. Jephson?"
"I trust you'll continue to keep that other yacht in sight," replied the
assistant district attorney. "We may yet meet a warship or a revenue
cutter."
"Any kind of a vessel we meet may have a few rifles on board that we
could borrow or buy," suggested Captain Tom.
"Anyway," decided Mr. Baldwin, "we'll keep that pirate craft right in
sight if we can, and as long as we can. We'll trust for something to
turn up that will throw luck in our way."
The "Victor" which was of some ten feet greater length than the
"Panther," looked like a boat which, despite her speed, was built to
carry a good deal of coal.
Yet, through the next few hours that followed, no attempt was made by
those handling the steam craft to get her best speed out of her. It
looked as though her sailing master and engineer meant to save some
coal, now that the "Panther" had caught up and could keep up. Both
vessels continued at a speed of some sixteen miles per hour.
Mr. Baldwin and his guests remained on deck. So did young Halstead, who
had decided that he must now do with but little sleep while the chase
continued in its present phase.
"Any sharp little sea-trick might enable the other fellows to slip away
from us," he declared to the owner. "Every man on board ought to help in
the good work on hand."
At about eleven o'clock the young skipper left Mr. Costigan on the
bridge, and went below, though he did not turn in.
Nor had any of the passengers sought their berths. All of Mr. Baldwin's
friends were on deck. Young Gaston Giddings, however, paced nervously,
apart from the rest.
"He's fretting over his folly in keeping Rollings in such an important
post, and giving the rascal the chance to run away with all that money,
I suppose," thought the young skipper.
Somehow, Tom could not help watching Giddings a good deal. It was the
nervous hitch in the young man's gait that first caught Halstead's eye.
Presently the young captain of the "Panther" strolled slowly by Gaston
Giddings.
"Confound it, what a queer, restless look there is in the fellow's
eyes," thought Tom, uneasy, though he could hardly have explained why.
After that Halstead watched the young bank president even more closely,
though he took pains to hide the scrutiny.
A request from Mr. Jephson called the cabin party over to the port rail
to watch the "Victor." The instant the last of his companions had gone
forward, and had passed around the pilot house, Giddings, after a swift
look about him, stole into the dining saloon.
Tom Halstead, ostensibly lounging behind one of the life-boats, saw this
move.
"Now, what's he up to?" muttered Tom. "Mischief, judging by his queer
antics. We've mischief enough to deal with, without having it take place
right on board our own boat!"
Halstead stole forward in time to see Giddings darting down the
staircase into the main cabin.
"I'll just get down where I can watch this," muttered Tom. Concealed
near the foot of the staircase, he saw Giddings, with some sort of a
small tool, prying the lock of Dr. Gray's medicine case open.
"Oho!" muttered Halstead, as he saw young Mr. Giddings abstract a
small, screw-capped vial. "There's morphine in that doctor's outfit, and
Giddings has guessed it!"
Tossing the medicine case back into the doctor's stateroom, Gaston
Giddings stole up the after-companionway to the deck aft.
"With all our other troubles aboard, I don't believe we want any
morphine maniacs here!" muttered Tom Halstead, excitedly.
Giddings, quivering with eagerness, trembling with aggravated
nervousness, leaned against the stern rail, glancing out over the water
as he drew the screw-capped vial from his pocket.
Just as he started to remove the cap from the bottle, a hand shot around
him from the rear.
The young skipper of the "Panther" snatched the vial, remarking coolly:
"Mr. Giddings, you don't need that stuff, and no one on board wants you
to have it."
With a swift movement, Halstead dropped the vial into one of his
pockets.
"You confounded thief!" hissed Gaston Giddings.
Swift as a flash, in his rage, the young man sprang at the youthful
skipper of the yacht.
"You'll give that back to me, or go overboard!" snarled the victim of
the drug habit.
"If you get it, it'll be after I'm overboard," snapped back Tom.
In another instant Giddings's fingers were wrapped in a tight hold
about Tom's throat. The drug maniac seemed possessed, for the instant,
of the strength of half a dozen men.
The young skipper himself was no weakling, but now he had his hands
full.
Even had he been so minded, he could not have called for help. Backward
and forward the pair struggled for a few seconds. Then the young skipper
found himself growing weaker for lack of air.
With a triumphant snarl Gaston Giddings forced his antagonist to the
stern rail. Still Tom Halstead fought furiously, silently, with that
tight grip at his throat making his brain reel. He realized that Gaston
Giddings was winning the victory!