TWO BRAVE LADS AT BAY.
"Are you there, Sandy?"
Through the darkness in the hold of the tug, in which they were
confined (and which had recently been the place of Tom's captivity),
Jack's voice reached the Scotch lad.
"I dinna ken. But I think so," he responded cautiously. "Some of
me's here, anyhow. Whist, Jack, we're in a tight place."
"And a dark one, too," said Jack gloomily.
"What d'ye think they'll do wi' us?"
"I have no notion. But what they have done already gives a
sufficient idea of what they are capable of. There may be bigger
rascals on earth than this outfit, but I don't know where you'd look
for them."
"By the peak of Ben Nevis, that was a dire crack on the head that
Captain Mangler gave me when they attacked us in that lumber yard."
"His name's Rangler--though 'Mangler' would about fit him," rejoined
Jack. "They didn't strike me, but just picked me up and stifled my
cries--just as I was going to the rescue of the poor professor, too,
I fear they may have killed him."
"I dinna think so. But I hope he is not on board this tug."
"Why?"
"Because, if he is, there'll be no one left behind to give a clue as
to our whereabouts."
"Even if they could, I don't see what good it would do," was the
gloomy rejoinder. "Poor Tom's still missing, and----"
"Whist, lad! Dinna be downcast. Tom will turn oop--like a bad
penny--not that he is one, but in a manner of speaking. I'm sure
he's all right. He will look out for himself and rescue us, too,
I'll bet ye a siller bit."
"I hope you are right, Sandy, but this is surely a disastrous ending
to what promised to be a pleasure trip."
"There's a linin' of bonnie gold to every cloud," comforted the
philosophical Sandy. "But," he added with Scotch candor, "I'm
blessed if I can see aught but the cloud the noo'."
There was silence for a time.
"Let's explore this place a bit," suggested Jack presently.
"Too dark," responded Sandy, "we might fall into some trap-door or
hole."
"We can feel our way with our hands--oh!" and Jack almost laughed at
his mistake--"mine are handcuffed."
"Mine, too, but I hadna' forgotten the fact," said Sandy dryly.
"I suppose, then, we must wait here till somebody comes."
"I guess that's aboot it. It's no' vera cheerful, but it can't be
helped, as the man said when they were gangin' to hang him."
The vibration of the propeller of the tug could be plainly felt. The
whole craft shook with it. It was clear that all the speed possible
was being crowded on.
The heat, too, grew almost stifling. The hold was back of the boiler
room, in which forced draught was being kept up, while the
steam-gauges showed a pressure almost up to bursting point. Walstein
and Dampier, after safely gaining the tug, following the chase
through the lumber yard, had decided to lose no time in putting all
the distance possible between themselves and Rockport. Their joyful
reception of the news that, although they had lost Tom Dacre, his
place had been taken by his brother Jack, may be imagined. Sandy
they did not care so much about. They did not know that his father
was quite as rich--or richer--than Chisholm Dacre. But both had been
warm in their congratulations to Captain Rangler on what they deemed
his clever capture.
"Phew-w-w-w! This place is like a furnace," observed Jack, after
another silence of some duration. "How about you, Sandy?"
"It's hot, all right. I'd give a whole lot for a drink of water. I
feel as dry as a stale loaf of bread."
"Talking of bread, I wonder if they mean to starve us or let us die
of thirst?"
"Impossible to tell. I dinna ken what they mean to do. I suppose
they are capable of anything."
"Yes, the inhuman ruffians! But what is worrying me is, that,
supposing they don't mean to starve us, or let us die of thirst, what
_do_ they mean to do with us?"
The question was a puzzling one.
"If they don't kill us, they'll have to keep us with them all the
time," said Sandy gloomily, after a while.
"Maybe they'll maroon us, like they did down in the tropics. There
are plenty of islands in this part of Lake Huron."
"Yes, but this isn't an untraveled region, like it was down there.
In course of time we should be picked up."
"Hum! Yes, that's so. Tell you what, Sandy, if we get a chance to
escape, we'll make for some island and hide there till an opportunity
comes to get off."
"Jack, do you recall that island where the ghost was snoopin' around?
Ye ken the one I mean?"
"Do I? I should say so. Well, that was as tight a scrape as this,
but we got out of it, all right."
"So we did," agreed Sandy, cheering up, and with almost a lively ring
in his tones, "and that fix was our own fault, too. If we hadn't
tried tricks on the professor and got tied to that turtle, we
wouldn't have been marooned."
"Well, in this case we haven't even the satisfaction of blaming
ourselves," whimsically remarked Jack.
The hours wore slowly away. At first the long wait in the darkness
was merely tedious. Then it began to grow painful, and at length,
such were the boys' thirst and hunger and suffering from the intense
heat, that they went almost crazy.
Work as they would at their bonds, they could not loosen them. The
steel bracelets resisted all efforts to unfasten them. To make
matters worse, when the lads flung themselves wearily down to try and
pass the interminable hours in the forgetfulness of sleep, they found
that they were not the sole tenants of the hold.
Huge rats presently began scampering about. The creatures at first
rushed off when the boys cried "Scat!" But, after a time, they grew
bolder, and came in legions. The lads could hear their squeakings
and bickerings as they nosed about them. It was truly a horrible
sensation. Little red eyes, like needlepoints of fire, burned
through the darkness, and Jack recalled tales he had read of
prisoners whose bones had been picked of flesh by the loathsome
rodents.
"They'd find us tough picking," laughed Sandy, when Jack communicated
his fears, but in his easy manner the Scotch lad concealed a world of
real, almost desperate, anxiety.
Their position was plainly growing more and more untenable. Already
their heads felt as if they would burst from the intense heat and
stuffiness of the hold. Then, too, their long fast had made them
weak. Queer buzzings sounded in their ears. Shapes, that they knew
were unreal, flitted through the darkness, like forms compounded of
greenish, luminous smoke.
And still the tug raced along. The roar of her laboring engines
filled the little craft, making her quiver from stem to stern.
"Wonder where on earth she can be?" thought Jack, in a dull sort of
semi-stupid voice.
"I dinna ken, an' before long it willna' matter to us, anyhow," was
Sandy's miserable response. All his fund of hopefulness had vanished.
As if in mockery at his words, the rats squeaked louder than ever as
he uttered them. Their little bright eyes darted here and there in
the darkness before the boys' swimming vision, like thousands of
crazy fireflies. Clearly, if help did not come soon, there would be
two less among the company the tug was carrying across Lake Huron, at
racing speed.