CHASE TURNS THE TABLES.
When Chase, who was the first to spring ashore, had drawn the bow of the
pirogue out of the water, he took a turn up and down the beach and looked
about him. This was not the first time he had visited the island. He had
often been there in company with Wilson and Bayard Bell and his cousins,
and he knew every tree and stump on it. It was a favorite shooting and
fishing ground of his, and he thought it a fine place to camp out for
a night or two; but he had never wanted to live there. He was thinking
busily while he was walking up and down the beach, and revolving
something in his mind that made his heart beat a trifle faster than
usual. He did not want to remain there alone, and he was determined that
he would not. He would return to the village if he could that very night;
but if he was obliged to stay, Coulte and Pierre should stay with him.
The cove in which the pirogue landed, and which was large enough to
receive and shelter a vessel of a hundred tons burden, was surrounded
on three sides by a high bluff thickly covered with bushes from
base to summit. In these bluffs were two or three caves in which
cooking-utensils, old-fashioned weapons, and rusty pieces of money had
been found, giving rise to the supposition that the island had at one
time been the harboring-place of the noted Lafitte. The story-tellers
of the village declared that some thrilling scenes had been enacted
there. Whether or not this was true we cannot tell; but this we do know:
that before Chase set his foot on the mainland again, he saw as much
excitement and adventure there as he wanted, and even more than enough to
satisfy him.
“Well,” exclaimed Pierre, who seemed to be greatly relieved to find
himself on solid ground once more, “we did it, didn’t we? We’re here at
last.”
“I’d rather be somewhere else,” replied Chase. “Do you know, Pierre, that
I shall be hard up for bread while I stay here? The corn-meal in that bag
is thoroughly soaked with salt water.”
“The bacon is all right,” returned Pierre. “When you got tired of living
on that you can catch a wild duck.”
“By putting salt on its tail, I suppose,” interrupted Chase. “I don’t see
how else I am to catch it.”
“Take this lantern and axe and look around and find something to start
a fire with,” continued Pierre. “We’ll have to stay here with you until
the wind goes down, because we can’t beat up against it in the pirogue.
Even if we could, I wouldn’t try it. I’ve seen enough of the Gulf for one
night.”
“I believe you,” said Chase to himself. “If I can make things work to my
satisfaction you’ll never sail that pirogue back to the village. As soon
as you are asleep I’ll run her around under the lee of the island, and
stay there until the wind goes down and the sea falls, and then I’ll fill
away for home. If I can’t do that, I’ll take possession of the eatables,
knock a hole in the pirogue, and get out of your way by intrenching
myself in the ‘Kitchen.’ By doing that I can make prisoners of you and
your father as effectually as though you were bound hand and foot.”
Chase was so highly elated over his plans for turning the tables upon
his captors, and so sure that one or the other of them would operate
successfully, that he allowed a smile to break over his face. Pierre saw
it, and interpreted it rightly. It put an idea into his head, and he
determined to watch Chase as closely now as he had done before.
“I want to ask you a question,” said Pierre, while Chase was trying to
light the lantern with some damp matches Coulte had given him. “Did those
fellows we had the fight with at the log know that we were going to take
you to this island?”
“Of course they did; Wilson told them. He was there with them, because I
heard his voice. They’ll come over here with an officer or two as soon as
the wind dies away a little, and they will be looking for you as well as
for me. What good will it do you now that you have brought me here? It
seems to me that by doing it you have made your situation worse instead
of better. You are prisoners here the same as I am.”
Chase knew by the expression which settled on his face that he had
started a train of serious reflections in Pierre’s mind. Leaving him to
follow them out at his leisure he picked up the lantern, shouldered the
axe, and after looking about among the bushes for a few minutes, found
a dry log from which he cut an armful of chips with which to start the
fire. He worked industriously, and by the time that the old Frenchman and
his son had unloaded the pirogue and hauled her out upon the beach, he
had a roaring fire going, and a comfortable camp made behind a projecting
point of one of the bluffs. He then returned to the canoe to bring up the
blankets belonging to the outfit with which Pierre had provided him; and
when he had spread them and his coats out in front of the fire to dry,
he went to work to cook his supper and prepare his bed. Neither of these
duties occupied a great deal of time. All he had in the way of eatables
was the bacon, a few slices of which he cut off and laid upon the coals;
and for a bed he scraped together a few armfuls of leaves, and deposited
them at the roots of a wide-spreading beech which extended its limbs
protectingly over the camping-ground. When Pierre and his father came up
he was sitting before the fire in his shirt sleeves, turning his bacon
with a sharp stick.
“What made you locate the camp so far away from the boat?” asked the
former, looking suspiciously at his prisoner.
“Why, you don’t want to watch her all night, do you? I selected this
point because it is sheltered from the wind. Don’t you think it a good
idea? If you want any supper help yourselves; only touch that bacon
lightly, for it is all I shall have to eat until I see home again.”
“What’s got into you all of a sudden?” asked Pierre, who could not
understand why his prisoner, who had heretofore been so gloomy and
disheartened, should suddenly appear to be much at his ease. “What trick
are you up to?”
“I don’t know that I am particularly jolly—I feel much better than I did
a few hours ago,” replied Chase. “I am dry and warm now; and another
thing, I know that I shall not be obliged to stay here as long as I at
first feared. I’ll be taken off before to-morrow night, and then you had
better look out for me. I’ll show you—”
Chase was going on to say that he would show Pierre and his father, and
Bayard Bell and every one else who had had a hand in his capture, that
there was a law in the land, and that they could not waylay peaceable
young fellows and shut them up in smuggling vessels and starve them and
carry them off to desert islands with impunity; but Pierre glared at him
so savagely that he thought it best to hold his peace.
Coulte and his son were not slow to follow the example set them by their
captive. If one might judge by the numerous slices of bacon they cut off
and laid upon the coals, the fright they had sustained during the voyage
to the island had not injured their appetites in the least. They helped
themselves most bountifully, and while their supper was cooking pulled
off their coats, and spread the blankets and other articles that composed
the cargo of the pirogue, in front of the fire to dry.
The meal was not as good as some Chase had eaten on that same island,
but it served to satisfy the cravings of his hunger, and when the last
piece of bacon had disappeared he spread one of his coats upon his bed
of leaves, drew the blanket over him, thrust his feet out toward the
fire and closed his eyes—but not to sleep. Tired, and almost exhausted,
as he was, that was a thing that did not enter his head. He had better
business on hand, and that was to watch Coulte and Pierre. They ate their
bacon very deliberately, smoked two or three pipes of tobacco, and then
arose and walked out on the beach. This movement was enough to arouse the
suspicions of the prisoner, who, as soon as they were out of sight and
hearing, sprang to his feet and looked around the point of the bluff to
see what they were going to do.
“There’s one of my plans knocked into a cocked hat,” said Chase, as he
watched the proceedings of the two men; “but I have another in reserve,
and I know it will work. I am afraid I have done something to excite
their suspicions.”
He certainly had. The smile that Pierre had seen on his face had made
him alert and watchful, and he and his father thought it best to put it
out of Chase’s power to leave the island without their knowledge. They
went straight to the pirogue, and after turning it bottom upward, moved
it close to a tree at the base of the bluff, and made it fast with a
chain and padlock. Not satisfied with this, they carried the sail and
oars into the bushes and concealed them there; and when they came out
they shouldered their guns and returned to the camp. They looked at their
prisoner as they walked past him, but he lay with a blanket over his
head, apparently fast asleep.
Coulte and Pierre were ready to go to bed now, and the captive was quite
willing that they should do so. They began snoring lustily almost as soon
as they touched their blankets, but Chase, being cautious and crafty,
and unwilling to endanger the success of his scheme by being too hasty,
for a long time made no movement. Being convinced at last that they were
really asleep, and not trying to deceive him, he threw the blanket off
his head and slowly arose to his feet. His first move was to pull on
his overcoat and boots; his next to secure possession of the meat and
axe; and his third to light the lantern with a brand from the fire. He
looked wishfully at the guns which Pierre and his father had taken care
to put under their blankets before lying down, but he could not secure
them without arousing one or the other of the men. However, it was some
consolation to know that the weapons would be of very little use to their
owners. They had not more than two or three charges of dry powder between
them, for the large flask that Pierre carried had been thoroughly soaked
during the voyage to the island.
Having lighted his lantern Chase rolled up his blankets and put them
under his arm, picked up the meat, shouldered the axe, and, thus
equipped, walked rapidly around the bluff toward the place where the
pirogue lay. He spent some time in searching among the bushes for the
sail, and having found it at last he pulled it out of its hiding-place,
and bent his steps toward the interior of the island. After walking
about a hundred yards he entered a little gulley, which seemed to run
up the side of the bluff, and a short distance further on his progress
was stopped by a perpendicular cliff, which arose to the height of forty
or fifty feet. By the aid of his lantern he closely surveyed the face
of this cliff, and having at last discovered some object of which he
appeared to be in search, he rested the mast, which was rolled up in the
canvas, against a projecting point of the cliff; and after making sure
that the lower end was placed firmly on the ground so that it would not
slip, he ran his arm through the ring in the lantern and began to climb
up the sail. When he arrived at the top he pushed aside the bushes,
disclosing to view a dark opening, which appeared to run back into the
cliff. Thrusting his lantern into it he surveyed it suspiciously for a
moment, as if half afraid to enter, and then clambered up and crept into
the opening on his hands and knees. After working his way along a dark
and narrow passage he found himself in a cave about twenty feet long and
half as wide, which was known among the village boys as “The Kitchen”—so
called from the fact that it was here that the cooking utensils had been
found—and this Chase intended should be his hiding-place and his fortress
as long as he remained on the island. It promised to answer his purpose
admirably. It was so effectually concealed that a dozen men might have
searched the island for a month without discovering it, and it could be
easily defended in case of an attack. The bluff in which it was located
was perpendicular on all sides, and the only way one could get into it
was by making use of a ladder or pole, as Chase had done.
Chase raised his lantern above his head, and surveyed the cave with a
smile of satisfaction. In one corner were the remains of a fire which he
and his companions had built the last time they camped there, and over it
was a narrow crevice extending to the tops of the bluff, and answering
all the purposes of a window and chimney. In the opposite corner was a
supply of wood sufficient to cook his meals for three or four days, and
in another was a pile of leaves that had more than once served him for
a bed. His camp was all ready for occupation, and he had nothing to do
but to bring up the outfit he had left at the foot of the bluff. This
required two journeys up and down the sail. He brought the meat first,
the blankets next, and after stowing them away in the cave was ready to
carry out the second and most dangerous part of his programme. He tied
the lantern to the bushes at the mouth of the cave so that its rays
would shine down into the gulley below, divested himself of his coat,
and sliding down the sail to the ground, shouldered his axe and started
back for the beach. He left the axe by the pirogue, and approached the
camp on tip-toe to look at Coulte and his son. They were still sleeping
soundly, and Chase, lingering long enough to shake his clenched hand
at each of them, and to mutter something about their being astonished
when they awoke in the morning, hurried back to the pirogue and caught
up his axe. “Turn about is fair play, Pierre,” said he, as he swung the
implement aloft. “You have had things all your own way this far, and now
I’ll manage affairs for awhile. I’ll teach you to think twice before you
tie a boy hand and foot again and take him to sea in a dugout.”
Whack! came the axe upon the pirogue, the force with which it was driven
sinking it almost to the handle in the soft wood, and opening a wide seam
along the whole length of the little vessel. Another blow and another
followed; but just as he raised his axe for the fourth time he heard an
exclamation of wonder, and looked up to see Pierre and Coulte standing at
the foot of the bluff.
“Ah! whew!” exclaimed the latter, comprehending the state of affairs at
once.
“Ah! oui!” replied Chase, exactly imitating the old Frenchman’s way of
talking; “somedings is wrong again, and dis times it is somedings pooty
bad. Whew!”
“What are you about there?” demanded Pierre.
“O, nothing,” answered Chase, bringing his axe down with greater force
than before; “only I am tired of seeing this old boat lying around. You
don’t want to use her any more, do you? You’ll go back to the village in
style, you know. The people there think so much of you that they’ll send
a yacht after you.”
Pierre uttered something that sounded very much like an oath, and came
down the beach with all the speed he could command; but Chase, as active
as a cat, darted into the woods and was half way up the gulley before
the clumsy smuggler had taken a dozen steps. It was dark in the bushes,
and the noise he made in running through them guided his enemies in the
pursuit; but he succeeded in climbing up the sail, encumbered as he was
with the axe, and pulled it up after him. He did not have time to remove
the lantern before Coulte and Pierre came up. The former, as usual,
expressed his astonishment and rage by loud whistles, while Pierre looked
about for some means of ascending the bluff. Knowing himself to be in a
safe position, Chase was disposed to be facetious.
“I say, Pierre,” he exclaimed; “what will you give me if I will pass the
sail down to you? That’s the only way you can come up here, seeing that
you have no axe to cut a pole with.”
“I’ll give you something you won’t like when I get my hands on you,”
hissed Pierre, between his clenched teeth. “Come down from there.”
“Do you want me to come now, or will you wait till I do come? You won’t
go back to the village to-morrow and leave me here all alone, will you?
You’ll stay, like a good fellow, till the yacht comes, won’t you? If you
want anything to eat in the mean time, you can catch a wild duck, you
know.”
Pierre and his father were too angry to reply. They conversed a while in
low tones, and then started down the gulley toward the beach. When they
had disappeared, Chase blew out his lantern, and sitting down in the
mouth of the cave with his axe in his hand, waited to see what they were
going to do.
While these events were transpiring on the island, others, in which Chase
would have been deeply interested could he have been made acquainted with
them, were taking place on the main shore.
We left the Sportsman’s Club in great confusion. They saw the pirogue
when she filled away for the mouth of the bayou, but they were too deeply
interested in Perk’s welfare to pay any attention to her. The latter was
in good hands, and before the pirogue was fairly out of sight he was
safely landed on the bank, where he lay gasping for breath and almost
benumbed with the cold.
“Start a fire, somebody,” exclaimed Walter, as soon as he had dragged his
friend out of the water; “and the rest of you come here and help me rub
some life into this fellow. Pierre shall suffer for this.”
When Walter uttered these words he uttered the sentiments of the entire
party. Perk was a favorite with them all—even Wilson liked him now, after
his daring attempt to rescue Chase—and they did not intend to see him
abused. They worked for him like troopers—Wilson and Eugene kindling a
fire, and the others stripping off his clothes and rubbing him with all
their might. Fortunately there was not much the matter with him. The blow
he had received was not serious, and after he had been relieved of his
wet clothing and stretched out on a pile of overcoats before a roaring
fire, he began to recover himself. The boys considered it a good sign
when he cried out that he was all right, but kept on chafing him most
unmercifully until they had got him on his feet.
The next thing was to dress him warmly to prevent him from taking cold,
and that was quickly done; each boy, with the exception of Walter, who
was as wet as a drowned rat, readily surrendering up to him some portion
of his own dry clothing. In half an hour Perk was himself again; and
after giving his companions a vivid description of his fight with Pierre
and Coulte, he inquired what was to be done now? “It isn’t too late yet
to try the plan I proposed,” said he. “Let’s go home and get the Banner
and Uncle Dick, and pursue them at once. We know that they are going to
Lost Island, so of course it will be no trouble to find them.”
“I’m in for that,” shouted Eugene, who was always delighted with the idea
of a cruise, no matter how bad the weather was. “Let’s take a vote on it.”
“We can stop at the village and tell Mr. Craven that Fred is missing,”
said Bab.
“And I will have something to say to my father and Mr. Chase,” chimed
in Wilson. “Of course some of them will accompany us, and, with their
assistance, we can capture Coulte and Pierre, if we find them.”
“We’ll do that anyhow,” replied Eugene; “especially if Uncle Dick goes
with us. He can manage them both. It’s just gay, outside, to-night. The
white-caps are running, and we’ll have a chance to see how the Banner
will behave in a gale. I wish Featherweight was here. He does so enjoy a
sail when the water is rough.”
It was wonderful how the members of the Club missed the Secretary at
every turn. They were very lonesome without him, and now that there was
a prospect of their going on a cruise, they wanted him more than ever.
He was the life of the Club at all times, and more particularly while
they were on shipboard. He was fond of the water, and took to a boat as
naturally as though he had been born on board of one. With the exception
of Walter, who had no superior among boys of his age anywhere, he was the
best sailor at the Academy, and so skilful was he that his friends used
to say that he could make his yacht walk squarely into the wind’s eye. He
was a wonderful fellow to carry sail, and would keep every inch of his
canvas spread long after vessels larger than his own had begun to haul
it down. This made the students afraid of him; and when the yacht-club
was getting ready to go on its annual cruise, Featherweight sometimes
found it hard work to raise a crew for his vessel. But, after all, he was
fortunate, and always brought his yacht back to the village in just as
good trim as she was when she went out. The Club, while regretting his
absence, and telling one another that he was losing a great deal in not
being there to accompany them on their cruise, little imagined that he
was destined to feel as much of the Gulf-breeze that night as any of them.
“I can see that you are all in favor of Perk’s plan,” said Walter; “so
there’s no need of taking a vote on it. Let’s put out the fire and be
off. No lagging behind, now.”
The Club were fifteen miles from Mr. Gaylord’s house. For half the
distance their course lay along a bridle-path which ran through the
thickest part of the woods, and the deep shade cast by the trees made
it so dark that they could not see their hands before them. The way was
obstructed by logs and thickets of briers and canes, and the branches
of the trees hung over the path, and struck them violently in the face
as they passed. It was not a pleasant road to travel in the day-time,
and still less so on a night like this, and with such a leader as Walter
Gaylord, who was quite as dashing and reckless a rider as Featherweight
was a sailor. He kept Tom in a full gallop, which he never once slackened
until he bent from his saddle to open the gate that led into the
carriage-way.