ALONG A TRAIL OF TROUBLES.
Like the other Tom of the immortal rhyme, our lad went "dashing down
the street" as though on the wings of the wind. Behind him came
shouts and yells, but he paid no attention to them. He did not know
that, at the very moment that he had succeeded in eluding the grip of
Walstein and Dampier, the pursuing police had, in turn, picked up the
trail of those two worthies. Seeing Tom in the grip of the rascals,
the skeptical sergeant, who was one of the party, immediately began
to put more stock in Tom's story than he had hitherto.
"The lad was telling the truth after all, I believe," he said.
"Of course he was," said Jeff indignantly, for the boy, who had
established his identity and vouched for Tom, had come along, too.
The approach to Walstein and Dampier was made with all due caution,
but just as the officers of the law were about to dart forward upon
the two rascals, Tom made his surprising escape. At the same instant
Walstein and Dampier, likewise, dashed off after Tom, so that there
was a sort of triple pursuit on--Tom in chase of liberty, Walstein
and Dampier in hot pursuit of Tom, and the police and Jeff in quest
of both Tom and his recent captors.
Hearing the shouts of the police behind them, Dampier and Walstein
turned to see what this new development might portend. It didn't
take them the wink of an eyelid to comprehend what was occurring.
"Stop, or I'll shoot!" cried the leader of the authorities.
Tom heard the shout, and, not having spared time to look behind him,
attributed the cry, naturally enough, to Walstein or Dampier.
Naturally, also, it caused him to dash on faster than ever.
Bang!
The noise of a shot came behind him. The policeman's bullet grazed
Dampier's ear, but it didn't stop him.
Right ahead was a lumber yard. Big stacks of timber were piled all
about. Tom felt that if he could once gain it, he could find
comparative safety from pursuit among its intricacies.
Dampier and Walstein, behind him, had the same feeling. Moreover,
they knew the water front of Rockport well, and realized that it was
a step from the lumber yard to where their swift tug lay, freshly
coaled, and, if their orders had been followed, with steam up.
Tom gained the lumber yard, and darted like an arrow in among the
piles of resinous smelling timber. In and out, he dodged, while the
cries behind him grew fainter.
"Thank goodness, I seem to have them thrown off my track," he
exclaimed, as he stopped to breathe.
After he had recovered a bit, he began to walk forward through the
lumber yard. A few turns brought him to a wharf. As he saw the
craft that lay moored there, Tom gave a gasp of astonishment, and
then a cry of joy.
It was the dear old _Sea Ranger_!
There she lay, as trim and tight as if the exciting events that had
followed the storm had never occurred.
But, as the lad was stepping forward with joyous anticipation of
being reunited to his chums, he was brought to a sudden halt by a
queer sound behind him.
Tom stood stock-still and listened intently.
The noise came again. It seemed to proceed from behind one of the
nearby stacks of lumber.
"Funny sound," mused Tom; "wonder what it is? It----"
"Oo-oo-oo-h!"
"It's a man's groan," the lad exclaimed.
"Oh, don't strike me again! Please don't," came the gurgling moan
once more.
"That fellow's badly hurt," decided Tom.
"Guess I'd better see what's the trouble," he resolved the next
instant.
Stepping round one of the lumber piles, he came upon the injured man.
He lay in a huddle on the planked floor of the wharf. One arm was
upraised, as if to ward off a blow, as he heard Tom's footsteps.
"Don't hit me again! Don't!" he begged.
"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm---- Gracious heavens!" he
half-shouted the next instant. "It's--it's Professor Podsnap!"
There was a red stain on the professor's face, as if he had been
struck by some blunt weapon. His face was white and pitiful, as he
looked up at Tom. He recognized him with a groan of dismay.
"You--you've come too late, my boy," he exclaimed weakly, and fell
back.
It was some seconds before Tom, kneeling beside him, was able to
catch any more. Then the professor spoke again. But his voice was
so feeble that Tom had to bend down to catch the words.
"Jack--" gasped the man of science, "Jack and Sandy--they----"
"Yes," spoke Tom eagerly, "yes, where are they?"
"Gone!"
"Gone?"
"Yes, abducted. We entered this port a short time ago. We were
setting out for the town to communicate with the authorities
concerning your loss, when all of a sudden we ran into a gang of men."
"Yes--yes," said Tom eagerly.
"Well, we didn't pay any attention to them, for they were a
rough-looking crowd, but suddenly one of them exclaimed: 'There's two
of those boys, now!' With that they all rushed at us, and--and
something struck me, and that's all I can recall."
A fear that made him feel sick and faint clutched at Tom's heart.
"These men, what did they look like?" he asked, dreading to hear the
answer.
"Like sea-faring men. I should have said they were on their way to
some ship. Stay! I heard a name mentioned. It--it was--let me
see--Spangler, I think."
"Rangler," struck in Tom, with vibrating heart.
"Yes, that was it--Rangler."
"Good gracious! He is the captain of that tug that Walstein and
Dampier were on board of."
"In that case, don't wait here to bother about me. Let us get help
at once."
The professor staggered weakly to his feet, while Tom supported him
as best he was able.
"Oh, those ruffians will pay dearly for this, if ever I can make
them," breathed Tom. "Poor Jack and Sandy, they're in their power
now."
Suddenly came voices, several of them. It was the party of police,
accompanied by Jeff, and enlarged by several dock loungers and
workmen.
"Here's Tom Dacre, now," exclaimed Jeff joyfully, hastening forward
as he spied the lad. "Thank goodness, those scoundrels didn't get
you. But--but what's happened?" he asked, gazing from the professor
to Tom and from Tom to the professor.
Tom explained quickly. Then he said: "Somebody get a doctor, quick,
for Professor Podsnap."
"There's one has an office right close," volunteered one of the
crowd, "accidents often happen on the docks."
"Officer Dugan, be off and get him," ordered the sergeant of police,
who looked very crestfallen. "Young man," he said to Tom, "I owe you
an apology for doubting your story."
"You owe me more than that," said Tom, with a bitterness he could not
help. "Here, Jeff, help me get the professor on board the _Sea
Ranger_. Be as quick as you can, we must set off in pursuit of
Walstein and Dampier."
At these words the police exchanged glances and looked foolish, while
Jeff burst out angrily:
"They've slipped through our fingers, Master Tom."
"How--how is that?" bewilderedly asked Tom. "Isn't their tug still
there?"
"It slipped out of the port while we were searching for those two
rascals," said one of the policemen.
Tom looked thunderstruck. He could not speak. The stupidity of the
police of Rockport seemed more than incredible.
"Then they're gone?" he asked dully. There was a ringing pain in his
head. His heart felt like a lump of lead.
"Yes, Master Tom," said Jeff wonderfully gently, and slipping to
Tom's side, "thanks to those chumps of police they have gotten away
without waiting for all the coal to be put in. But we can telegraph
every place and soon have them stopped and their craft searched for
your brother and your chum. I----"
"Why don't the police get after them?" demanded Tom, anger replacing
stupefaction, "why isn't there another tug after them, a----"
"They got too long a start, and there isn't a craft in this harbor
that is fast enough to be of any use in chasing them," put in one of
the men who had aided in the time-wasting search among the lumber.
Tom flushed angrily.
"Yes, there is--one!" he exclaimed.
"Where?" The question came from the dull-witted sergeant.
"Right there," said Tom, waving his hand toward the _Sea Ranger_; "do
you think I'm going to let those rascals steal my brother and my chum
without doing something?"
"By ginger, Tom, when can you start?"
It was Jeff who spoke, warmly, admiringly. His eyes shone with the
contagion of Tom's enthusiasm.
"Just as soon as a doctor has attended to the professor. Hello, here
he comes now. How do you feel now, professor?"
"Like taking after that cargo of villains as soon as we can get
away," was the warlike and unexpected reply of the usually
mild-mannered professor.
"But your injury?" asked Tom, self-reproachful at having in his
indignation almost forgotten the professor's condition.
"I feel almost sound again--I really do," stoutly declared the
professor.
The doctor, who had been so hastily summoned, coming up at this
instant, the party adjourned to the stateroom of the _Sea Ranger_.
The medico pronounced that the wound that had laid the professor low,
while it had been painful, was not dangerous. He also prescribed
some lotion for a large, knobby protuberance that was making itself
manifest on Tom's cranium, where Dampier had struck him.
In the midst of this conference, the door was hastily thrown open,
and Jeff entered. He carried a big carpet-bag, and behind him stood
a bulging-eyed negro.
"Hello, Jeff," exclaimed Tom warmly, looking up. "Come to say
good-by?"
"No, I'm going with you," was the decisive answer.
"An' ah hev bin hired as general factotum," announced the negro, with
a grin.
"Why, Jeff, what does all this mean?" asked Tom. "I was going to
engage some trustworthy men to go along."
"You don't need any," said Jeff shortly. "You did me a good turn
once, Tom Dacre, that I'll never forget. You saved me from death,
and likewise from a criminal life."
"But your work here, Jeff; you can't leave that to go on this cruise.
Really, I----"
"It's all been arranged," calmly announced Jeff. "My uncle agrees
that it's my duty to stand by you in your trouble. So another man is
already on my job. And now that's all accounted for, let's get under
way at once," he went on calmly.
Tom looked interrogatively at the negro, who stood modestly in the
doorway, grinning widely and twisting and untwisting a pair of agile
legs.
"Oh!" exclaimed Jeff with a laugh, seeing Tom's look, and
interpreting it correctly as a question as to the negro's identity,
"that's Rosewater. He----"
"Yas, sah! Yas, sah! Yas, sah!" said Rosewater, bowing three times
with wonderful swiftness.
"He's been a sort of handy man to me round the dock, and when he
heard I was going on this cruise, he insisted on coming, too. We'll
find him useful. He can----'
"Kin cook! kin wash! kin sing! kin dance! an'----"
"Can't keep quiet," said Jeff in a jocular undertone to Tom, "he's a
West Indian, and faithful as a spaniel dog."
And in this way, Rosewater--they never heard of any other name for
him, even the negro did not know of one himself--became a member of
the _Sea Ranger's_ crew on one of the most adventurous cruises any of
the party had ever embarked upon.
Half an hour after the doctor had patched up the professor, and had
left the craft, the engines, under Tom's management, began to revolve.
With Jeff--a skilful steersman--at the wheel, the professor "standing
by," and Rosewater in the galley, they glided out of the harbor of
Rockport, heading at top speed for a distant smudge of smoke on the
Huron horizon.
That smudge of smoke marked the tug of the desperadoes of whom they
were in pursuit, but it seemed terribly faint and far off and almost
as impossible of attainment as the pot of gold at the rainbow's foot.