TED WILSON'S VICTIM
A SHOUT arose from the eager crew as they perceived the success which
had crowned their desperate efforts, but an answering shout from the men
in the two approaching barges quickly recalled them to the necessity for
further and immediate action. Why it was that the guns of the gunboats
had remained silent they could not understand, but there was no time now
for investigations. It was sufficient that they had not been molested
thus far; and as the leader at once gave the command for them to resume
their labors with their oars, the men at once responded and gave way
together, the supply boat still being towed.
The whaleboat had been built for speed, and was long, narrow, and light.
Had it not been for the laden supply boat, which as yet they were not
willing to abandon, they would easily and speedily have drawn away from
the pursuing barges. As it was, they swept forward swiftly, and
apparently were almost holding their own in the race.
For several minutes the desperate efforts of the men continued. The
heavy clouds had gathered in the sky, and the blaze of the sun had
disappeared. The air was sultry and oppressive, and the unusual calm
which rested over the waters indicated that the storm which had been
threatening was fast approaching. No one glanced at the heavens,
however, the set and streaming faces indicating that the immediate task
in hand was sufficient of itself to occupy all their thoughts.
On and on rowed the men, and on and on swept the pursuing barges. Less
than a quarter of a mile lay between them, and, heavily laden as the
supply boat was, it materially decreased the speed which otherwise the
whaleboat might have made. The moments passed, but the efforts were not
relaxed. Together, the long oars struck the water, and the bodies of the
men swayed back and forth as if they were controlled by a common
impulse. The distance between the boats was not materially changed,
although if any change was to be seen it was in favor of the barges.
"This will never do," said the leader at last, letting his oar go, and
rising in his seat as he spoke. "Here, you men," he added, grasping his
gun and facing the prisoners in the other boat as he spoke, "it's time
for you to work your passage. Take those oars and pull your prettiest!
Four oars are better than one, and I can do more with a gun than I can
by pulling. Take your oars, every one of you, and the first one to drop
will be fired on!"
The four men in the supply boat sullenly obeyed, and the increased
impulse of their efforts at once became manifest. The leader stood in
the stern of the whaleboat facing the prisoners, and watchful of their
every movement. His words of encouragement served to inspire his
companions, and for a time it appeared as if they were gaining upon
their pursuers.
Still, the distance between them did not materially increase, and such
efforts as the men were then making could not be long maintained.
Indeed, signs of distress were already becoming apparent, and Little
Peter felt every time he drew in his oar as if he had not strength
enough left to pull another stroke. His face betrayed the pain he was
suffering, but his condition was not much worse than that of some of
the other men with him in the boat.
The exciting contest could not be continued much longer, and as the
leader glanced about the boat he almost decided to cut the rope which
held the supply boat, and, leaving that behind, seek safety in flight.
He had drawn his knife from his pocket, and was standing ready to free
them from their heavy load, when the rain began to fall. In a moment the
wind swept down upon them, and the storm was at hand.
Prom the first of the pursuing barges came a shot, but no damage was
done, and the leader muttered, "That's all right. It's a farewell salute
you're giving us. You might as well say good-by to us, for I take it
you'll never see us again."
The waves were now rising, and the rain was falling in torrents. Between
them and the shore it almost seemed as if a cloud intervened, so heavy
was the downpour. The voice of the leader could hardly be heard by his
men. The deep-toned thunder sounded almost continuously, and the darting
lightning appeared to be all about them. In escaping from one peril they
had encountered another.
The barges could now no longer be seen, and, with the passing of the
fear of pursuit, the men gave all their attention to their efforts to
keep the whaleboat out of the trough of the rolling waves. Still, the
supply boat was not cut loose, for the determined men were resolved to
hold to that so long as it lay within their power to do so.
For a half hour the shower continued, and although much water was
shipped, and the men were compelled to bail the boats, they behaved
well. When at last the storm had passed and the low mutterings of the
thunder sounded far out to sea, they all looked keenly behind them to
discover the whereabouts of their pursuers.
Neither of the barges was to be seen. Doubtless, with the approach of
the shower, they had both put back to the gunboats for safety. The
whaleboat had weathered the storm, and the supply boat was still safely
in tow.
Drenched though the men were, new strength seemed to come with the
knowledge that they were no longer being pursued, and then, relieved of
their fear, they continued on their way down the shore.
They frequently stopped for rest and to scan the waters behind them,
but no boat could anywhere be seen. Nor was any one to be discerned upon
the beach. Doubtless the men from Refugee Town had fled for safety and
shelter, or, as the leader grimly said, "They were afraid of being wet,
for water was something to which all the men assembled there were
strongly opposed."
For mile after mile they held steadily to their course, even their
excitement apparently having mostly disappeared. The supply boat
contained guns and ammunition, and if there was anything of which the
militia stood in need, it was of that very commodity.
At first it was thought that they would put in at the entrance to Shark
River, but it was soon decided to continue on their way until they
should come to Manasquan Inlet, and then go up the river to a place
where some of their friends were to be found. To gain Tom's River they
would be compelled to keep on to Barnegat Inlet, and then retrace their
way up Barnegat Bay, to the place where the river entered; and as that
would require a voyage of thirty miles more, no one regretted the change
in the plan.
They were all nearly worn out by their exertions, and no one knew what
British vessel might be met before they could gain the shelter of Tom's
River.
Little Peter, in spite of his eagerness to go on to the place where he
hoped to learn something concerning his father, was so weary from the
work of the day, and as he had not tasted food since early that morning,
he rejoiced with the others when at last the boats turned into Manasquan
Inlet and began to make their way up the little stream.
The sun was now low in the western sky, and the night would soon be upon
them. The shadows already were lengthening when the two boats passed out
of the inlet into the waters of the river. The leader, however, had not
yet given the word to rest on their oars, and Little Peter did not know
where they were to pass the night.
The whaleboat kept steadily on in its course, and the wearied men were
still pulling at the oars. The river was becoming narrower now, and more
than one was hoping that the word would soon be given for them to land.
Suddenly, the leader called to his men, and, standing erect, pointed
excitedly to a place on the shore not far in advance of them. His
companions quickly looked in that direction and saw on the little point
of land, around which the river swept in its course, two men standing
in the water. But what was it they were doing? One of them was holding
the other and frequently forcing his head beneath the surface of the
river. He would hold him in that position for a moment and then lift him
upon his feet again, and shake him, much as a dog might have done with a
rabbit. Apparently neither had observed the approaching boats, nor had
either uttered a sound which the men in the whaleboat could hear.
"The fellow's drowning him!" said the leader excitedly. "He's drowning
him. Give way, men, and we'll lend a hand."
The men, no less excited than their leader, instantly responded, and the
boats dashed rapidly forward. The eyes of all were fixed upon the two
men before them, and the leader shouted and called; but apparently,
unmindful of their approach, the strange actions continued. The larger
of the two men again and again forced the head of his companion under
the water, and then would lift him up and repeat the shaking. So
thoroughly intent was he upon his strange occupation, that he did not
once heed the hail, or even glance toward the whaleboat.
Nearer and nearer swept the boats, and finally, when they were almost
upon him, the man ceased his efforts and glanced coolly up at the
approaching men, still, however, retaining his grasp on his victim, who
apparently was helpless in his hands.
A startled exclamation escaped Little Peter's lips when he saw that the
smaller of the men was none other than his own neighbor, Benzeor Osburn.
"Help him! Help him!" he said excitedly to the leader. "It's Benzeor!
It's Benzeor Osburn! He's my neighbor! He's being drowned! He'll be
killed!"
"Be still!" said the leader roughly. "It's Ted Wilson that's got him.
Ted knows what he's doing. What's the trouble, Ted? What's gone wrong?"
he added quickly, addressing the man who still held Benzeor tightly in
his grasp.
The huge man slowly turned his head as he heard himself addressed, and
Little Peter thought he never before had seen such an expression of rage
upon any human countenance. His great muscular arms were bare, and his
entire body seemed to express the marvelous strength he possessed.
Benzeor was not struggling, and indeed there seemed to be but little
hope of protecting himself from the powerful man whose prisoner he was.
Little Peter could see that, although Benzeor was almost breathless, he
had recognized him, but he made no effort to speak and scarcely glanced
at the men before him.
"What's wrong, Ted?" repeated the leader. "What's the matter with the
man?"
"The matter isn't with the man, it's with me," said Ted slowly, speaking
in a deep, gruff voice, which betrayed the strong feeling under which he
labored.
"You're not going to drown him, are you?"
"Naw--though the snake deserves it. Drownin' is too good for such as
he!"
Ted had not moved from his position, and still was standing up to his
waist in the water.
"Tell us about it. Maybe we can help you a bit."
"Naw, ye can't help any. It's my business. I don't mind tellin' ye how
it came about, though. This forenoon I sold some corn and stuff up here
at the mill, and got my pay in coin, too. Well, this fellow was there
and he saw me get paid off, and I half suspected the reptile from the
way he looked at me when he saw me take the money. Here you!" he
quickly added, as Benzeor struggled slightly. "Ye want some more, do ye?
Well, I'll give ye all ye want and all ye need, too," and again he
thrust the helpless Benzeor's head beneath the water.
"Let him up. You'll drown him!" said the leader, when Ted had held his
victim several seconds under the water.
"It's no more than he deserves," replied the huge man, nevertheless
lifting his victim and shaking him again. "Now will ye keep still?"
As Benzeor was unable to reply, Ted again turned to the men in the boat
and said, "Well, I took that money home and gave it to Sallie. She's my
wife, ye know, and I always gives her what money I get, not that it's
ever very much, though. I didn't ferget the eyes o' this fellow,
however, and I told Sallie,--she's my wife, ye know, and as likely a
woman as there is in Old Monmouth, if I do say it as ought not to,--I
told her to keep a good lookout for the pine robbers, fer I had a kind
of a suspicion this here reptile might know where they was, and might
get word to 'em, too.
"I took my axe and went off down into my swamp-lot to cut some wood, and
left Sallie up in the house. Sallie's my wife, ye know. I felt uneasy
like all the time, but I worked on for three hours or more, but I kept
a-gettin' uneasier and uneasier, and, finally, I just couldn't stand it
any longer and put straight fer the house.
"'Twas mighty lucky I did, too, I'm tellin' you, fer when I came in
sight o' the house,--ye can see it up there now," and Ted pointed to his
home, a short distance up the bank, giving the unfortunate Benzeor an
additional shake as he did so,--"I see somethin' was wrong. There was
three or four men a-standin' out by the big maple in front o' my house,
and the minit I looked I see what they was up to. Somebody was a hangin'
from a bedcord they'd threw over a limb o' that very maple-tree.
"Mebbe ye know how I felt when I see it was my Sallie; she's my wife, ye
know. They was a-drawin' her up and then lettin' her down, and I knew
then they was tryin' to make her own up where that money was. I had my
axe in my hands, and when I see what they was up to, I didn't wait very
long, I'm tellin' ye. I cut Sallie loose,--she wasn't very much hurt;
she's my wife, ye know,--and then I took after the rascals. They
scattered in every direction, but this vermin started for the river and
I after him."
"You got him, I see."
"Did I get him? Let him answer for hisself."
And the angry Ted again shook the helpless Benzeor until the men
wondered that his trembling limbs still held together.