IN THE NICK OF TIME.
The blood sang loudly in Jack’s ears. He fought for breath against the
remorseless pressure on his throat. But the two great, gnarled hands of
the fireman held him as if in a steel vise.
“You bane forgat what you see! You bane forgat it!”
The Norwegian emphasized what he said with a bump of Jack’s head against
the deck at every word.
Twisting in what he felt was his death struggle, Jack managed to loosen
the man’s hold ever so little. It was no time to consider fair tactics.
Seizing the advantage he had gained, the boy sank his teeth deep into
the man’s arm.
With a yell of pain, the fellow relaxed his grip, and in a flash Jack
was on his feet, while the Norwegian, disconcerted at this sudden
attack, lay sprawling on the deck. As he arose, staggeringly, Jack dealt
him a smashing blow in the face, but it only staggered the fellow for an
instant. It could have been little more than a mosquito prick to his
bull hide.
Roaring with rage, the fellow tore at Jack, who, feeling that his life
was at stake, tried to make a dart for the door of the wireless cabin.
But the man was too quick for him. He caught the boy in the embrace of a
maddened wild beast.
“I bane keel you for that, you young demon!” he cried, and bore Jack
toward the rail.
“Don’t! Don’t!” implored the boy, who felt that his last moment had
come. But the brute showed no mercy. Deliberately he raised the boy, who
was no more than a featherweight, in his arms, and was about to cast him
into the water when suddenly something unexpected occurred.
A bulky form rushed upon the scene, and the next instant the sailor went
staggering back under a crashing blow. Simultaneously a revolver flashed
and a harsh, stern voice exclaimed:
“Don’t move a step or I’ll shoot you down like the mongrel cur you are!”
“Captain Braceworth!” gasped out Jack, who could hardly keep his feet.
“That’s who it is, youngster, and just in time to save your life, I
imagine. I happened to be not far off and they summoned me to the dock
to quell that riot. When that was done I came on board, and I’m glad I
did. Don’t move, you despicable dog!” This to the fireman, who was
trying to sneak off.
At almost the same instant there came from below the sound of a pistol
shot.
“What in Neptune’s name does that mean?” demanded the captain. “What’s
happening to this ship?”
“I think I can explain, sir,” said Jack, while the captain still kept
the cowering fireman covered.
“Then do so by all means, and then I’ll trouble you to get me a pair of
handcuffs from my cabin for this fellow.”
“It’s this way, sir. To-night I came on board to get some bits of
apparatus and a book or two that I had left in my cabin. I happened to
see a big bundle dropped into the water and then I saw a boat cruising
about. I summoned the harbor police by wireless.”
“Jove! You’re not called ‘Ready’ for nothing!” exclaimed the captain,
eyeing the boy with unconcealed admiration.
“And then, sir, this man saw what I had been up to and threatened to
kill me if I told.”
“A threat, I believe, he is perfectly capable of carrying out. Don’t
move there, you,” to the fireman. “I see it all now. That struggle on
the dock was a blind to keep the watchman’s attention attracted while
the smugglers got that stuff out of the bunkers. Ready, you’ve foiled a
clever plot.”
More shots came from below.
“It’s the police, sir!” exclaimed Jack, “and I guess they’ve come in
time.”
Just then a police sergeant appeared on the upper deck. He had come on
board from the dock, having been summoned with a file of men by the old
watchman. He looked astonished, as well he might, at the picture before
him: a white-faced, shaking boy, a sullen, whipped cur of a fireman and
a stalwart seaman covering the man with a revolver. From below, where
the police were rounding up the smugglers, who put up a desperate
resistance, also came sounds of conflict.
“Sergeant, if you’ll handcuff this man, I’ll explain all this in a brace
of shakes,” said the captain. He speedily did so to the officer’s
satisfaction, and the malefactor was led off, after Jack had promised to
appear against him in the morning when the case came up in court.
As for the gang in the boats, they, too, were rounded up after several
shots had been exchanged without bloodshed. Jack was warmly
congratulated by the police, and it was late before he was able to slip
off home to the schooner.
He found his uncle anxiously waiting up for him, and Jack told his story
with as little melodrama in it as he could. But his throat was rapidly
turning black and blue where his assailant had grasped him, and his
uncle would not hear of the lad’s turning in till it had been anointed
with Captain Ready’s “Bruise Balm and Sore Soother.”
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