A TRICK MADE FOR TWO
Just before eight o'clock in the morning Tom Halstead rolled over
luxuriously in his broad bed.
"One more catnap wouldn't feel half bad," he muttered to himself.
"However, I reckon I feel about right. I've had some of the sleep that
was coming to me."
Then:
"I wonder how my friend Cragthorpe is this morning? It's quite plain he
hasn't found some other trick for getting out of the brig."
Tom yawned a couple of times, stretched, and finally decided that he
felt like getting up.
While he was coming to this conclusion the whistle sounded in the
bridge speaking tube.
Springing out of bed, Tom took up the mouth-piece.
"Well?" he called.
"The 'Victor' is putting about, sir."
"What's her new course?"
"Going right back over the course she came out on, sir. Shall I turn and
follow?"
"What else? The only thing we're living for now, Mr. Costigan, is to
keep close to that steam yacht. Follow her, without further orders, even
if she starts to steaming in circles. I'll be out soon."
"Very good, sir."
Tom looked slowly about him, then headed for the bath-room. He took
plenty of time in the warm water, finally dressing. Mr. Costigan's watch
had gone below, the third officer having left Tom's letter with Dick
Davis, to be handed to Mr. Baldwin when the latter should appear. But,
so far, none of the cabin party had yet turned out.
"All our people are still abed, I think, sir," smiled Davis, when the
young motor boat captain appeared on deck.
"They've been worn out, by the suspense as much as by their short hours
of rest," Halstead replied.
"Now, you guess why the steam craft has put about, don't you?" asked
Halstead, after pacing the bridge for some moments while he studied the
weather.
"I'm not sure that I do, sir," Dick admitted, after a moment's thought.
"Within three or four hours, I'm willing to wager you a night's rest,
we'll be back in the fog belt," Tom replied, pointing ahead. "Now,
Rollings and the captain of the 'Victor' have felt that they were
getting too far off the course to their real destination, with us
tagging right alongside all the way. They knew that the fog bank was a
few hours astern of them as they lay on the other course, so they're
putting back to get into it."
"For what purpose?" asked Dick.
"Why, I suppose they've figured on some plan for losing us in the fog
this time. That's the way their hopes run, anyway."
"I can't see any fog ahead of us, sir," proclaimed Dick. "And I thought
a fellow raised on the Maine sea-coast knew all about fogs."
"There's Ab just coming up for the day's work," whispered Tom, as the
young first officer appeared through the companionway forward. "Just
hear what he says."
Leaning forward over the bridge rail, Halstead called:
"Mr. Perkins, what sort of weather do you think lies ahead of us?"
Ab halted, looking all about him, then peering out for some moments past
the bow of the "Panther."
"I think, sir," came the first officer's report, at last, "we're heading
back towards another real old San Francisco fog."
"I surrender, then," nodded Dick Davis.
"We'll be in it by noon, or before," Tom Halstead predicted.
"And then, the folks on that craft yonder have it all figured out to
give us the slip, sure and easy this time," muttered Ab, as he climbed
the steps to the bridge.
Out of the owner's quarters stepped Joseph Baldwin and came forward,
stretching and inhaling deeply the outdoor air. Captain Tom Halstead
stepped down from the bridge to meet him.
"Haven't the other crowd changed their course a bit?" asked Mr. Baldwin.
Halstead explained the new move on the part of the navigator of the
"Victor."
"Going to try to lose us, are they?" chuckled Baldwin. "If they do,
Captain, they are clever people. If they can get away from _you_ I'm
positive it won't be your fault."
Then, stretching like a man who has had a fine, long sleep, and who
isn't yet over the enjoyment of it, the owner added:
"Thank goodness, nothing happened during the night!"
"Nothing happened in the night, eh? I'm glad it was all carried off so
quietly, sir, that you weren't disturbed by it."
"Why, _did_ anything happen?"
"The fire, in the first place----"
"Of course; but I meant, nothing after I turned in again."
"Something certainly did happen," laughed Halstead. "I left a note for
you with the watch officer, in case you came on deck before I did. Now,
however, I can tell you about it."
And that Tom Halstead proceeded to do. While he was still engaged in the
narration Mr. Ross came up on deck, and had to hear the tale. Just at
its finish Dr. Gray appeared, followed by Gaston Giddings. The latter
young man, though wholly out of the influence of morphine now, looked
seedy and sullen. Plainly, he resented his enforced abstinence from
drugs.
"I want to see that infernal rascal, Cragthorpe," muttered Mr. Baldwin.
"Captain, won't you be good enough to have him brought on deck?"
So Ab was summoned, and instructed to take the extra seaman of the
watch, as well as Quartermaster Bickson, and bring the prisoner to deck.
"Bring him by force, if you have to," added Captain Tom, dryly.
In a short time the quartermaster and seaman appeared, all but dragging
Cragthorpe, while Ab Perkins brought up the rear of the procession,
giving the doubly manacled fellow an occasional shove.
It was the first time that Gaston Giddings had seen the prisoner. The
instant he did so, now, the young bank president looked suddenly angry.
"Mr. Baldwin," demanded Gaston Giddings, "why is this gentleman under
such restraint?"
"_Gentleman?_" demanded Baldwin, with withering scorn. "Why, my boy,
about whom are you talking?"
"Why is Mr. Cragthorpe ironed, on board this yacht?" insisted Giddings,
his face now white and stern with increasing anger.
"Well, then, I'll tell you," sniffed Joseph Baldwin. "That fellow is in
irons because he joined us from the 'Victor.' His first enterprise on
board was to try to put one of our motors out of the running. His next
effort was to set this yacht on fire, last night. After that, he broke
into Captain Halstead's cabin, presumably with the intention of killing
the navigator of this yacht; at any rate, he meant to injure Captain
Halstead severely. Those are some of the reasons, Giddings, my boy, why
Cragthorpe is now guarded as carefully as a mad dog might be if we
didn't possess the right to kill it."
While speaking, Joseph Baldwin studied the young bank president's face
keenly. After a pause, the older man went on:
"And now, Giddings, if you concede that I have any right to be curious,
in turn, I'd like to ask you why you are so intensely interested in this
scoundrel?"
From the instant Cragthorpe had caught sight of the face of Gaston
Giddings, the man in irons had stood more at ease, a sneer on his face.
"Cragthorpe is a friend of mine," replied Giddings, stiffly.
"Indeed? Then I regret to say that I can't congratulate you on your
choice of friends."
"I demand that you set Mr. Cragthorpe free!" cried young Giddings, in a
voice passionate with anger.
"That's a request, my boy, that I'm not at all inclined to grant, even
had I the power," retorted Baldwin, coolly, yet speaking as though he
did not wish needlessly to further rouse the anger of Giddings. "You
see, I haven't any power to give the order."
"No power?" snorted Giddings. "Don't you own this yacht?"
"I do; but Halstead is her captain. It is one of the rules of the sea
that, after a vessel leaves her anchorage, her captain commands her
absolutely until port is again reached."
"Do you mean to say that this boy would refuse to free Cragthorpe, if
you commanded it?" demanded Giddings, hotly, a flushed spot burning in
either cheek.
"What would you say, Captain Halstead, if I demanded the release of the
prisoner?" asked Baldwin, facing the young motor boat skipper with
smiling eyes.
"I'd refuse, sir," Tom replied, promptly. "In my opinion the 'Panther'
isn't safe a minute when Cragthorpe is out of the brig. Take the
prisoner back to the brig, Mr. Perkins."
Gaston Giddings, with a wrathful cry, started forward, but Tom blocked
his way.
"You know you're pleasing the owner you sail for, or you wouldn't dare
do this thing," choked the young bank president.
The prisoner was speedily taken below.
Gaston Giddings stamped angrily aft, while Joseph Baldwin's eyes
followed the young man with a wondering look.
"Mr. Perkins," directed Tom, when Ab came back on deck, "lock the door
of the passage leading to the brig, and leave the key with the watch
officer, with instructions to turn it over to his successor on the
bridge." Tom's order was given for the purpose of preventing Giddings
from making any attempt to reach and aid Cragthorpe.
"I'm going to have Doc Gray try to find out what part Cragthorpe has
been playing in the life of our young friend, Giddings," Mr. Baldwin
confided to the young skipper. "I've a suspicion, already, though."
"May I ask, sir, what you suspect?"
"Well, since Giddings has become a confirmed 'hop-fiend,' and Cragthorpe
comes to us from the Rollings crowd, I think it most likely that
Rollings has been employing Cragthorpe to cultivate Giddings's
acquaintance and lure him on into the opium habit. Such drugs destroy a
man's will, his sense of justice--they rot his very soul!"
"So, then, sir, you think Rollings has been, for some time, engaged in a
deliberate plot to acquire an ascendancy over Mr. Giddings and ruin
him?"
"That's my suspicion, stated in a few words, Captain."
Through the forenoon the chase on the course back to San Francisco
continued without change. By eleven o'clock both yachts were moving
through occasional light blotches of fog, though the two craft still
moved in sight of each other. An hour later, however, the two yachts,
with speed now down to eight miles an hour, entered a dense, white gloom
in which they were soon shut out from sight of each other. Now, Captain
Tom was reduced to the old trick of going by sound.
Fortunately, the "Victor" sounded a fog-horn at regular intervals of
sixty seconds, as did the "Panther."
"I'm not going to take any chances, however, sir," Tom confided to the
owner. "I'm going to keep close enough to hear her machinery, too."
Passing through the fog, the unseen "Victor" was off the better part of
three hundred yards to port of the "Panther."
Of a sudden, however, there came a note that was new. Tom and Joe, in
the captain's cabin, heard it, and ran out on deck. Davis was bending
over the starboard rail of the bridge in his effort to comprehend the
new sound.
"Too-whoo-oo!" Nearly abeam, and some three hundred yards off to
starboard, that new sound came--a fog-horn identical with the
"Victor's."
"What on earth is the trick, now?" wondered Joe Dawson.
"I'd be willing to give a day's pay to guess it all at once," responded
the young skipper.
"Too-whoo-oo!" sounded the "Panther's" fog-horn. "Too-whoo-oo!" came the
answer, from port, presumably from the "Victor's" fog-horn.
"Too-whoo-oo!" came like an echo from starboard.
"It sounds like the first move in a game to mix us up," muttered Tom
Halstead, shrewdly.
"But what craft can be off at starboard?" questioned young Dawson.
"Probably a steam launch, put off from the 'Victor,' with a similar
fog-horn," rejoined Captain Halstead.
"Or a motor launch," suggested Joe.
"No; I don't believe that. If it were a motor launch we'd hear the
chug-chug of her exhaust. It must be a steam launch. A steam craft of
small size can be run more quietly."
"That's true," assented young Dawson. "Still, our power tender has a
pretty silent exhaust."
"Great scheme!" grinned Tom, suddenly.
"What?"
"I'm going to play a return trick on Rollings's captain."
"How?"
"We have two reserve fog-horns that are identical in sound. I'm going
to rig one of 'em on the 'Panther,' using it in the place of the one
we're now sounding."
"Yes----"
"And rig the other fog-horn on the power launch," chuckled Tom. "Then
we'll put Bickson and his own deckhand in the power launch and send 'em
around to cruise to port of the 'Victor.' Thus we'll keep those fellows
guessing, too, what's in the wind."
Joe chuckled, but he added:
"Tom, you'd better ask Mr. Jephson to send one of his deputy marshals
along, armed, or something might happen that our power launch and two
men would be bagged."
"That's a sound idea, too," Captain Tom nodded. Half an hour later the
"Panther's" power launch, containing Bickson, a seaman and a deputy
marshal, stole as noiselessly as possible around to the port side of the
"Victor" in the great, thick fog. Now, there were four fog-horns,
sounding all at once. The four power craft were moving practically in
one line.
"Say, that's a funny stunt, surely," chuckled Joseph Baldwin, when he
heard the four fog-horns almost at once, and understood what the move
meant.
"It may have another good effect," suggested Halstead.
"What?"
"Any sailing vessel headed our way, hearing four horns, is likely to
steer well out of the way of the whole fleet, thus lessening the danger
of collision."
Barely two minutes later another sound intensely interested the watchers
aboard the "Panther."
Out of the white gloom ahead, some hundreds of yards, and almost bow-on
from the "Panther," came the long-drawn-out hail:
"He-e-elp!"
"What's that?" demanded Joseph Baldwin, starting.
"He-elp!" came the appeal once more.
"Sounds like the latest trick from our friends on the 'Victor,'" grinned
Captain Tom Halstead.
Ab Perkins, with the megaphone in his hand, had pushed his way up to the
very peak of the bow.
"Ahoy!" he bawled, lustily, through the voice-carrier. "Who's in need of
help?"
Back came the answer, faint, yet distinct:
"A castaway in a dory! For heaven's sake, pick me up!"
"Not a thing happened after we picked up the last castaway in a small
boat," uttered Joseph Baldwin, sarcastically.
"That hail sounded like a boy's voice," muttered Tom.
"If you pick _anyone_ up in this fog, be careful!" cautioned the owner.
"Oh, won't I be careful, though?" retorted Skipper Tom. "Yet I've half a
mind to pick this chap up, just to see what the game is. My curiosity is
working over-time. I'm anxious to see the newest trick from the hands
that steer the 'Victor'!"