OVERBOARD.
Carl's yell drew the attention of all those on the boat. Brady leaned
over the top of the cabin and laughed huskily. Merrick dropped his mask
and joined triumphantly in Brady's laugh. The Norwegian and the Swede
stared blankly for a minute, and then went stolidly on about their work.
"Brady!" muttered Ferral, squaring around on the cabin so as to get a
good look at the man in the cockpit. "Is he the swab that carried Matt
off in the air ship, Carl?"
"Sure he iss der feller!" averred Carl. "I vould know him any blace.
Ach, himmelblitzen, I toldt you I hat some hunches, Verral!"
"I've made a monkey's fist out of this," growled Ferral, "and I'm a
Fiji if I can understand the thing yet. The way this Brady falls afoul
of us don't look like a happenchance, and yet I can't make anything
else out of it. Ahoy, there, Merrick! Stow that grinning and give me
the lay of this business."
"Merrick's real name is Brady," explained the outlaw in the
cockpit--and outlaw he was, having been a fugitive from justice ever
since Matt had navigated the Hawk away from the swamp and into South
Chicago. "He's my son, Hector, Jr., and I'm proud of the way he worked
this deal," Brady continued, still laughing as though the affair was a
huge joke.
Ferral was bewildered.
"You're a thief, are you," said he, struggling to get the matter clear
in his head, "and the fellow who met me on the train, and said his name
was Merrick, is your son?"
"That's the how of it," returned Brady.
"Then I'm free to say," cried Ferral, "that I don't like the how of it.
'Bout ship and takes us back to the wharf. I'm a bit particular about
the company I keep."
"Well, you've got a picture of us letting you go after we've been to
all the trouble to get you here. We'll put you ashore somewhere to the
north, my bantam, but before we do that we'll frisk you for that bundle
of long green you've got in your pocket. The Hawk's for sale, and I'm
counting on buying her."
The more Carl heard and saw, the more puzzled he became. It didn't seem
like an accident the way Ferral had met Brady, Jr., on the train, and
yet the two Bradys must have taken a long look ahead in order to bring
about the situation in which Ferral and Carl now found themselves.
Their plots, however, had centred about Ferral, and Carl had merely
blundered into them.
"I'll hear from you, Merrick," said Ferral sharply. "What have you got
to say about this?"
The _Christina_ had passed through the break in the government pier
and was breasting the heavier waves in the open lake. The pier behind
was rapidly receding. There were a score of fishermen on the piles,
but they had become mere dots, almost out of sight and entirely out of
hearing.
Carl looked around for a glimpse of some other boat. There was a smudge
of smoke from a steamer, off on the watery horizon to eastward, and
well to the south could be seen the upper sails of a schooner, but
these were the only craft in sight, and they were too far away for any
practical benefit.
"There's nothing much to say," answered Hector, Jr., as calmly as
though he had been talking about the weather. "I was running a hand
book on the Denver races, but got a wire from dad that he was in
trouble. You happened to be on the same train that brought me to
Chicago, and when you flashed that roll on me, and I remembered that I
was nearly strapped and that dad needed money, I figured on how I could
annex such a nice fat wad of the long green. You wouldn't play cards,
you wouldn't drink, and there wasn't anything else I could do but make
this sort of a play. I put dad next as soon as I could get to him. He
didn't think you'd show up to take the sail, but I told him that you
had said you would, and that I believed you were the sort of a fool who
always did what you said. I reckon I was right, eh, dad?" and Hector,
Jr., came forward and leaned over the top of the cabin beside his
worthy father.
"Bright boy, son," said the elder scoundrel approvingly. "We've got
you, younker," went on Brady, Sr., again facing Ferral. "We're too far
from land for you to swim ashore, and I'm giving you credit for too
much sense to try a trick like that. It was a bit of a surprise to me
to see that Dutchman trailing along after you, but"--and here a black
scowl crept over the man's face--"I've got a bone to pick with him and
that meddling whelp, Motor Matt. The Dutchman won't get away from us so
easily as you will, Ferral, I can promise you that. And before Motor
Matt is many days older, I'll show him what it means to cross Brady's
path."
Hector Brady, like his son, was a fair-spoken villain, but none the
less dangerous for all that. As he ceased talking, he started to step
from the cockpit to the aisle of deck between the cabin top and the
sailboat's side.
"'Vast, there!" roared Ferral, twitching at the lanyard about his neck
and bringing out a sheath knife. "Keep your offing, both you sharks, or
you'll find a knife between your ribs. You've got us out in the lake,
but you haven't my money yet, and you're not going to cut up rough with
my raggie here. I got him into this mess, and I'm going to see him out
of it."
A boat hook, dropped by the skipper when he was pushing the nose of the
boat away from the pier, lay on the deck close to Carl's feet. He bent
down and picked it up.
"Oof he makes some foolishness mit me," averred Carl, "you bed my life
I vill haf somet'ing to say aboudt dot meinseluf. I had some hunches
all der time," he harped ruefully.
Brady, Sr., did not come out of the cockpit just then. "There are four
of us against you," said he sternly, "and if you've got as much sense
as I give you credit for, you'll not resist. All I want of you, Ferral,
is your money. If what you told my son is true, your uncle is a rich
man. He'll give you another roll for the asking and never miss it. Are
you a pard of King's?"
"I'm all that," declared Ferral. "I owe Motor Matt a debt I can never
repay."
"And I owe him one I'm going to repay," said Brady, with a black look.
"He stole my air ship from me, and I've got to buy it back. It's no
more than justice that I take part of the money from you--if you're
such a good pal of King's. I didn't think, any more than Hector, that
the thing was going to fall out like this, but my luck must be taking a
turn for the better."
"Skipper," shouted Ferral, looking at the Norwegian over the heads of
the two Bradys, "put about and take us ashore! These scoundrels are
trying to rob me."
The skipper, however, only returned a stolid look.
"You'll be hauled over the coals for this!" threatened Ferral.
Carl had been on the point of saying something, but off toward the west
and south, over the stern of the sailboat, he beheld an object that
amazed him and aroused a faint hope.
The object seemed to hang in the sky like a black cylinder. It was
the Hawk, there could be no possible doubt about that, but was the
Hawk sailing out over the lake or merely traveling over the City of
Chicago? So far away was it that Carl could not tell whether it was
coming or going. Could it be possible that Motor Matt was bringing
the air ship in the direction of the _Christina_? It seemed too much
of a coincidence to be true, and yet it was hardly stranger than the
circumstances which had enveloped Ferral in the net spread by the two
Bradys.
Carl, although the discovery of the air ship stretched his nerves to
tightest tension and filled him with fluttering hope, kept the news
of his discovery to himself. If the Hawk was really heading lakeward,
Brady, if he knew it, might realize the possibilities of escape which
it would afford the two boys and take measures to keep the _Christina_
away from the air ship.
"No one is going to be hauled over the coals, Ferral," said Brady.
"When we put you ashore, it will be in a place from which it will take
you a good long while to get back to Chicago. Before you get back, I'll
have a man buy the Hawk, and I and my friends will make a quick getaway
to parts unknown. The Hawk means liberty for me, for I can't dodge
around on the ground and keep clear of the police much longer. Are you
going to hand that money over, or have we got to take it away from you?"
Shifting his sheath knife to his left hand, Ferral drew the roll of
bills from his pocket and stowed it snugly in the breast of his blue
shirt.
"If you get this money you'll have to take it," said he defiantly, "and
if that two-faced sea cook you say is your son comes too close to me,
I'll get him on the point of this dirk."
Covertly, Carl was watching the round swaying speck in the heavens.
That it was round, proved that he was looking toward the end of the
gas bag, which, seen lengthwise, would have been of cigar-shaped
proportions; and the fact that the object was growing larger by swift
degrees, proved that it was coming closer to the sailboat.
"Enough of this foolishness," scowled Brady, drawing a revolver and
leveling it at Ferral over the end of the cabin. "Take that money out
of your shirt and throw it this way. If you make a miss throw and land
it in the lake, I'll plug you for that just as quick as I would for not
throwing it at all. It's up to you," he added warningly, "and I'm not
going to wait all day."
Carl, in the moment of silence that intervened, suddenly hurled the
boat hook with all his strength. The move was entirely unexpected on
Brady's part, and he was caught unawares. The handle of the hook struck
his arm a violent blow, knocking the weapon out of his fingers and
dropping it overboard.
A yell of rage went up from Brady.
"Kick off your shoes, Tick," whispered Carl excitedly. "Ven I gif der
vort, chump indo der lake. I know vat I know, und I dell you it vas all
righdt. Do schust vat I say, aber don'd say somet'ing."
The presence of the air ship was unknown to everyone on the sailboat
except Carl. To Ferral it looked like suicide to jump into the lake,
with no other boat anywhere in sight.
"I'll kill you for that!" bawled Brady to Carl.
The Dutch boy paid no attention. He had already kicked off his shoes
and pulled off his coat. Holding his coat in his hand, he leaped to the
top of the cabin and began waving it frantically.
The Bradys, the Norwegian and the Swede swept the surface of the lake
with their eyes. Even then their glances fell too low to give them a
glimpse of the Hawk.
Ferral had got rid of his shoes, although he was still reluctant about
taking to the water. Carl did not give him much time to consider the
matter, but grabbed him by the arm and, when the little craft heeled to
a strong gust of wind, pulled him overboard.