The stretch from the forward to the center mast was one waste of
wreckage and the captain and the boys picked their way with care. At the
time of the wreck and since then the waves had beaten that portion of
the old schooner into a mass of tangled wood and rope, with hideous
clusters of seaweed flapping over the rail. The captain played his
flashlight over the planks and they arrived safely.
“Now,” said Captain Blow. “It was right about here that that spook was
performin’. Let’s look this place over.”
He flashed the light all around and up the mast. What he found there
seemed to interest him, for he stepped forward and looked more closely.
Then he grunted.
“Look,” he said. “Here is a wire, running from this mast. Where’s it go
to, I wonder?”
The wire was just above the level of his head and he followed its
course, to find that it ran from the forward mast to the center. It had
evidently been hastily hung there, for it was simply twisted around the
shattered poles. It passed directly over the forward hatch, which was
flush with the deck, and that seemed to give the captain an idea.
“We’ll heave up that hatch,” he announced.
Don tugged at the hatch, his fingers curled under the overhang, but it
refused to come up.
“Locked tight, captain,” Don said.
Captain Blow tried but was no more successful than Don had been. “We’ll
have to smash it open, then,” he said. “Pass over that axe, Jim.”
Jim handed the captain the axe, and the latter, heaving it high above
his head, sent it crashing down into the boards of the hatch. The crash
sounded startlingly loud out there in the silence of the sea, but the
captain paid no attention. Once more he raised the axe and sent it
flashing down, and this time it broke through the wood. The captain
began to chop around the hole and soon scattered the wood right and
left.
“That’s finished,” he said, laying the axe aside. “Now we’ll look this
ship over in earnest.”
He turned the beam of the light down and they saw a short flight of
black wooden steps running down to the forward hold. The captain hung
his feet over the edge and began to descend. Jim followed and Don came
last.
They made the hold in safety and paused to listen. The ship was silent
except for the gentle lapping of the waves, and the captain turned the
light on all sides of the hold. It had evidently once been a storage
room for the schooner, for closets and chests were built into the hull
and shelves ran to the roof that the deck formed. There was one bunk
well forward and the light stopped there. They looked closely and at
length Don spoke.
“Doesn’t that look like some one to you, captain?”
Before the old sailor could reply a blanket was tossed aside on the bunk
and a man sprang up. He was tall and thin, with unnaturally bright eyes,
and the captain roared recognition.
“Why, Timmy Tompkins! What the devil are you doing here?”
The missing lighthouse keeper came eagerly forward. “I thought it was
you, Jerry Blow, but I wasn’t takin’ chance. I was lying down on the
bunk in case it was one of them other swabs, though I couldn’t
understand what all the noise was about. How’d you get here?”
“It’s a long story,” answered the captain. “No use in talking about it
here. Suppose we go into the room that gang was using and talk it all
over?”
They climbed out of the hold and made their way back to the after
compartment of the schooner. There in the room where the gang had been
they settled down to talk, after the boys had been introduced to the
keeper. As soon as he learned that Terry was a friend of theirs the
keeper had news for them.
“They shipped your friend up the river in a barge,” he told them. “They
ain’t going to hurt him, just going to dump him ashore when they get way
out in the woods and let him walk home, that’s all. I heard them talking
about it and this morning I heard the young fellow go aboard. He put up
a dandy fight when he first came aboard but there was too many against
him.”
The boys were relieved to find that they were on the right track and
were anxious to start in pursuit at once, but both the captain and the
keeper were against it.
“No use,” decided the captain. “We don’t know the river, and we might
run aground. In the morning we’ll start early and run down on them. It
won’t take your sloop long to run down a slow barge, and we’ll sure get
’em. They don’t know we’re coming and we’ll pounce on ’em sudden like.
Eh, Timmy?”
“Sure thing,” agreed the keeper. “I’ll show you the mouth of the river
when we go back.”
“Sure,” nodded the captain, lighting his pipe. “Timothy, do you know
anything about a certain ghost that was playing around tonight?”
The lighthouse keeper’s eyes twinkled. “Well,” he drawled. “I shouldn’t
wonder if I didn’t. I was the ghost, myself. But maybe I’d better tell
you everything, from the beginning.”
“Maybe you had,” nodded the captain. “Spread your canvas, son.”
“You know that you and me had agreed on that red lamp signal,” began
Timothy, “and on the night of the storm I thought likely I might have to
use it. I was up all night, watchin’ the light, as I mostly always do
when there is a storm, anyway, and after awhile, along in the morning, I
see a long black cruiser run up to the stone dock and ride the storm out
there. Thinking that it just meant to stay there until the storm went
down I paid no attention to it, but the next day, after the storm was
over, it was still there, though nary a sign of life did I see on it.
The door was closed and there was no movement on it, although I watched
it pretty close all day. Late in the afternoon, when my curiosity got to
fever heat, I went down and hailed ’em, but not a peep out of them. I
thought there was something funny about it, but there wasn’t nothing I
could do about it.
“Along about nightfall I got uneasy, wonderin’ if somebody wasn’t
watchin’ the lighthouse and me, much of me as they could see, and so I
thought I’d light the lamp and hang it up, so you could run over and
keep me company. But I felt kind o’ foolish about it, especially as you
always josh me about being scared, anyway, so I let it go for awhile. I
kept looking out at the cruiser, and there wasn’t a light to be seen on
it; either they didn’t have any or the shades was pulled down tight.
After a time I got over my bashfulness as far as you were concerned,
Jerry Blow, and I lighted the lamp and went up the steps to put it on
the sill. I had just placed it there when I thought I heard someone open
the downstairs door and come into the lighthouse.
“It come to me then that if those fellows wanted to get into the
lighthouse they must have seen me going up the stairs. You know what I
mean, every time I came to a window in the shaft the red lantern shined
out and I guess they must have seen it. So I hustled down the stairs,
thinking that even if somebody hadn’t come in, it was high time I locked
the door. I very seldom do that, you know, and I thought it was high
time.
“But when I got down there I found the door open, though there wasn’t
anyone in the center room. I knew I hadn’t left the door open myself,
and I was suspicious, so I went and closed it, looking all around while
I did so. Thinks I, maybe I had better look in the supply room and I
opened the door. By mighty whales! what a start I got! There was two of
’em, that man Benito and the little fellow, examining one of the
government service telescopes, a small one. I’d heard about them marine
bandits and I knew these fellows was them.
“I guess they hadn’t expected to see me so soon and they looked mighty
startled, too; though not for long. I tried to shut the door and hold
’em in, but they rushed it open and come for me. Remembering the
telephone, I ran to that and got the receiver down, but it was too late
to say anything. They caught ahold of me, tied me up, and lugged me down
to their boat.
“I judged that they hadn’t intended to do anything like that at first,
just thought they could steal a few things while I was up there in the
tower and get away. But as long as I had busted up their party they
decided that they had to take me with them, so they loaded me on that
cruiser and started off. But we didn’t go far just then. They was
expecting some sort of a visit from a fellow named Marcy, so they just
run around a point and waited there. Kept me trussed up and stole the
telescope.
“Near as I can judge you and these boys arrived soon after and that boy
Terry somehow got out to their boat, the cruiser, and was on it when
they started up and ran down the coast to this wreck. He was caught out
there in the hold by Marcy, and dragged in here. They put him in a cell
and then turned him over to the barge captain first thing in the
morning, with orders to drop him off a hundred miles or so from here. I
wasn’t bothered much, in fact, those fellows didn’t know what to do with
me, so today they put me in the forward hold and locked me in.
“I worked around in there and finally managed to open that forward hatch
and I got out. I didn’t know how to run their cruiser and I couldn’t
swim to shore, so I decided to play ghost. All the time I was in the
hold I could hear those fellows talking, and they finally got talking
about ghosts, in such a way that I knew they were pretty superstitious.
Thinks I to myself, maybe I can scare ’em off of the wreck and in the
morning make a raft and get to shore, so I went back into the hold and
found a piece of wire, a string, and some white cloth in an old locker.
I stretched the wire across the two masts, hung a loop over the top of
the cloth, which looked to be somebody’s nightgown, and rigged up the
string. From down there in the hold I sent it up and tried it out,
making it go backward and forward. Just then this Marcy comes up on deck
and gosh didn’t he holler! Soon’s he dived down the companionway I just
let the sheet drop down through the hatch, closed and bolted it and
waited developments. Next thing I knew there was a terrible poundin’ and
running, and playing safe, I lay down on the bunk until I was sure it
was friends that was coming down the forward hatch. When I heard Don’s
voice, ’course I didn’t know it, but I was sure it wasn’t one of the
gang, and I came forward to see you.”
“Well,” said Jim, when the keeper stopped. “Your ghost gave us a scare,
too. We couldn’t make it out at all, especially when it seemed to drop
right through the deck.”
“Yes, you’re quite a spook, Timmy,” said the captain. He went on to
relate the story in full to the keeper and then got up. “Well, let’s be
getting back. We’ll have to pull up anchor and run Tim right back to the
lighthouse, get a little sleep, and light out first thing in the morning
after Terry.”
They left the schooner, after making sure that there was nothing of
importance on her, and piled into the dinghy. This time Jim and Don
insisted upon taking turns at rowing back and the captain allowed them,
guiding them so as to keep in near the shore. Timothy pointed out the
mouth of the river which he felt sure was the one up which the barge had
gone. In a short time they were back on the _Lassie_ and the sloop was
speedily gotten under way and headed back toward the lighthouse.
It was a long voyage, and pushed at top speed, and it was four o’clock
in the morning when they got back to the lighthouse. Timothy and the
captain ordered the boys to their bunks soon after starting, the keeper
explaining that he could sleep during the day, the captain insisting
that they would have a hard day before them. He promised to call them if
anything unusual came up, but nothing did, so the boys slept soundly
until the captain called them as they approached the dock at the point.
Don shut down the engine and Jim tied up. In a body they went up to the
lighthouse, to find the relief keeper and a police guard on duty.
Explanations were made and the guard and the relief keeper prepared to
go back to town at daybreak. Seeing that everything was now in good
order the captain and the boys went back to the sloop and slept for two
hours. A mild sun was shining when Captain Blow awoke them.
“Let’s eat and get going,” he said. “That barge has taken a long lead
and we’ve got to cut it down.”
Half an hour later the _Lassie_ headed out to sea and the chase was on.
_19. The Escape_
Jed Dale stepped on the deck of the river barge, smoking his pipe.
Anyone, looking at him, would have noticed that he puffed at it with
unnecessary force, and that he was highly nervous.
But no one was looking. The captain of the barge and Maxwell were in the
cabin, and Todd, at the tiller, was gazing off toward the shore. They
were coasting gently along a narrow part of the inland waterway, between
two avenues of tall, thick trees. Tangled underbrush showed along the
banks through the trees, but there was no sign of a single farmhouse.
Only the puff of the barge’s steam engine broke the silence. The sun was
going down, as faint and uninspiring as it had been all day. The barge
swished unhurriedly through the black water.
The only one who was watching Jed was Terry. The cook, still smoking,
was slowly edging nearer to the man at the tiller. Todd, always
contemptuous of the quiet cook, paid no attention to him. Terry, his jaw
set and his mind alert, stepped casually on deck and moved nearer the
cook.
Todd looked at him for a moment curiously and then resumed his shore
gazing. Jed had sat down on the top of a small deck locker which was
close to the man at the tiller. Terry glanced over his shoulder and
watched the water ahead. On all sides but one it moved rapidly, but in
the one stretch, that near the right hand bank, it was still and black.
There, Terry knew, was the sand bank, the instrument which he intended
to use for his escape.
Jed Dale looked at the quiet stretch of water, which was now drawing
rapidly nearer, and then nodded to the red-headed boy. Terry nodded back
and gave a final look at the cabin. The door was closed and all seemed
well. Jed knocked the ashes out of his pipe and drew his long legs up
under him.
The next few seconds were filled with action. Without warning the cook
threw himself on Todd. The man at the tiller was taken by surprise and
crumpled up under the sudden and astonishing attack. At the same time
Terry seized the tiller and pulled it toward him with all his might. The
barge changed its course with a jerk. The blunt prow swung for the shore
and the barge ground with a ripping, jarring sound on the sand bank,
hard aground.
Sounds of crashing woodwork came from the forward cabin, the funnel of
the engine collapsed and a cloud of steam poured from the engine room. A
chorus of astonished shouts came from the cabin as the barge trembled on
the sand, helpless. Without wasting time to look around Terry went to
Jed’s rescue.
Todd had gone down like a log but now he had one hand firmly fixed in
the collar of the cook. Terry realized, as he threw himself into the
fray, that the loss of a minute would mean the end of their game. He
could have easily leaped overboard and saved himself, but he had no
intention of leaving the cook alone in the hands of the barge crew. What
they would do to the unfortunate man was past thinking, and Terry put
any thought of leaving Jed behind out of his mind. Todd’s hold was not
any too good, and Terry seized his arm.
He bent the arm backward, savagely twisting at the stubborn fingers and
the bargeman’s hand came loose. Jed was on his knees, out of breath and
for the moment bewildered at the turn of events. He was not the type who
leaps rapidly into a strange situation, and he hesitated now. But not so
Terry. The door of the cabin was opening as Terry grasped the arm of the
cook.
“Overboard, and make for the shore,” Terry gasped, just as Maxwell and
the Captain stormed out on deck. Fairly dragging the cook Terry leaped
over the rail and into the water. He had no idea how deep the water was,
but he hoped it was not very deep. Both he and Jed were breathing
heavily, as much from excitement as anything else, and he hoped they
would not have to swim far.
As a matter of fact, they did not have to swim at all. The water was
just up to their armpits, and when they bobbed up out of it they found
that they could wade to shore. The three men had now rushed to the rail
and were shouting to them, and Todd was making their flight perilous by
hurling at them large pieces of coal, which he got from a deck bunker
close at hand. Besides wading forward as rapidly as possible they had to
watch the flying coal, as one hit, especially on the head, would surely
prove their undoing. Their flight through the water was maddeningly
slow, as wading always is, and to increase their anxiety Maxwell leaped
into the water and started after them.
“We’ve got to go faster,” Terry gasped in Jed’s ear. The cook nodded and
plowed on, glancing back of him. Had not Terry urged him forward he
would have fallen into the hands of the crew in short order, for his
daring had quite melted away under the violence of past events. Luckily
for them the barge had no small boat, and their immediate peril was the
mate, who was forcing his way through the water toward them with savage
determination.
The ground was becoming firmer under their feet and they were slowly but
surely gaining the bank. A final desperate flounder and they reached the
edge of the stream, to stagger onto the land. They would have gladly
stopped there, but Maxwell was close to them and Todd was in the water
following. Out of breath as they were, they had to start running as
rapidly as possible through the woods.
Terry’s first thought had been to stop and fight, but he soon realized
the futility of that. Maxwell was a huge man and a brutal one, and even
if Terry could have depended on Jed’s help, it would have been a severe
and doubtful battle. But the cook was no help in the present emergency
and Todd was coming fast. Abandoning the thought of anything so rash as
a stand Terry did the only sensible thing and took to flight, the silent
cook with him.
The fact that the light had disappeared rapidly was greatly in their
favor. It had been just at sunset that they had attacked Todd, and now
the sun had gone down altogether. Out in the open it would not have made
any difference, but here under the thick trees a welcome darkness was
wrapping the woods like a cloak. It was not yet dark enough to hide them
completely, but just enough to aid them materially. If they could keep
away from the bargemen long enough to allow total darkness to settle
over the countryside they would surely escape.
Maxwell had reached the shore and was plunging recklessly into the
bushes after them. They could hear him coming and a few seconds later
Todd followed his mate. Terry decided not to try to hide for a time yet,
but to trust to luck to outrun the men. They were active men and likely
to give the escaped pair a lively race of it, but Terry was sure that he
at least could outrun them. His anxiety was the cook, but so far the man
had made no complaint and was running well.
It did not last long, however. The cook seemed to lose his strength all
at once. Even Terry, with all his athletic life to his credit, found the
race cruel. His breath was coming fast, hurting his lungs severely, his
legs felt as though lead weighed them down, and his eyes hurt. The cook
began to falter and stumble, and Terry found his own progress slowed
down as a result of having to give his arm to the man.
“I—I can’t make it, no—how,” gasped the cook. “You run on, bub. I’ll be
all right.”
“Nothing doing,” breathed Terry. “We’ll look for cover and take a
breathing spell.”
A dry brook supplied them with the very place of concealment that they
wanted and they crawled into it. But instead of lying there Terry began
to crawl along its bed on his hands and knees, finding relief in the
fact that the leaves were wet and therefore helped by deadening all
sounds. They followed this brook for two hundred yards and then lay
still, listening.
The pursuing men made a lot of noise, but by its very nature the two in
the brook knew what was going on. The men were uncertain, for they
slowed down and began to talk together. Terry now had no fear of
discovery, for the real darkness was coming over the woods and no human
being could see them. Unless someone actually fell over them the chances
of being captured were small. So they lay there, gradually getting their
breath and recovering from the strain of the long chase. From time to
time they heard a movement from the men and now and then a brief word.
They had lain there for perhaps half an hour when they heard the whistle
of the barge blown three times, little sharp blasts. “The skipper’s
callin’ them back,” whispered Jed, close to his ear. Terry nodded but
did not move. They heard the men making their way back through the
woods.
Just to be sure they lay there for another half hour and then crawled
out. After a conference they decided that they would be wiser to go away
from the river and seek some nearby town, where the matter could be
reported to the local authorities. Accordingly, they struck off in a
direction north of the river and walked for two hours. At the end of the
time they gave it up and came to a halt.
“Nothing to do but call a halt until daylight,” decided Terry. “We don’t
know whether we’re walking around in circles or not. Perhaps we can get
a little sleep, if we can find a dry place.”
“What do you think of building a small fire?” inquired Jed.
“Where will we get the matches? The few I had in my pocket are soaked.”
Jed brought out a metal case. “I’ve got some in a waterproof case. Do
you think it is all right to make a fire?”
“I don’t see why not,” said Terry, thoughtfully. “We must be far enough
away now to be able to do it with safety. It isn’t what you’d call cold
out tonight, but a small fire will dry us out and help a lot. Anyway,
the captain blew the whistle for those fellows, so I guess we needn’t
worry.”
“No, I think not,” answered Jed, beginning to gather what dry wood he
could find. “They know that we have escaped and they’ll want to clear
out as soon as possible. But I’m thinkin’ they’ll have one sweet job
getting that barge off’n that sand bank.”
Jed made a good fire and they were grateful for its warmth. Under the
spell of it the cook regained his spirits. He was glad to be rid of his
association with the river crew and his admiration of Terry was
tremendous.
“My goodness!” he exclaimed, talking about it. “I always sort of
worshipped that captain, that is, I was scared to death of him. But you
stood right up to him and told him if he wasn’t such an old man you’d
lick him.”
Terry grinned. “I guess I said a few things that sound foolish now. That
captain, old as he is, could probably break me in two if he wanted to. I
guess the only reason he didn’t do it was because he realized that if he
was ever caught he would suffer heavily for it. As to standing up to
him, that wasn’t so hard, because I was thundering mad. I hate anything
cowardly, and when I see it I always feel sure that I can lick the
bully. Maybe you heard what Roosevelt said once, about Spain’s attitude
toward little Cuba. He said: ‘When I see a bully beating a child, I want
to beat the bully!’ Not classing you as a child, of course, but it made
me boil to see him aim a kick at you.”
“I’m pretty much of a child in some ways,” answered Jed, seriously. “If
it hadn’t been for you, I’d have been caught by that gang, and what they
wouldn’t have done to me! You’re all right, bub!”
“Nonsense,” said Terry, hastily. “Do you want to get some sleep, Jed?”
It was finally arranged between them that they would each take two hours
of sleep at a time while the other stood watch, and Jed was the first to
turn in. Finding a fairly dry spot under a tree the cook slept well
until awakened by Terry, who then took his turn. In this manner they
spent the night and when the morning came they felt much better, though
very hungry.
“Now to find a town,” said Jed, as they started out. After walking for a
half hour they came to a road and followed it into a fairly large-sized
town. A sign on the railroad station told them that it was Brockport.
They were lucky enough to find a restaurant open and they bought
breakfast, which Terry paid for, as the cook had left all his money on
the barge. Once out on the street again they paused to consider.
“There is the sheriff’s office,” said Terry, pointing to a
weather-beaten place down the street. “I guess we had better report to
him. Shall we go down?”
Jed, assenting, they walked into the sheriff’s office, to find the man
sitting at his desk reading a morning paper. He was a keen looking man,
with iron gray hair and a face that spelled outdoor life in every line.
“’Morning, boys,” he hailed, looking at them searchingly. “What can I do
for you?”
Terry told his story in detail and the interest of the sheriff grew as
it was unfolded. When Terry had finished he reached for a battered hat
and took a shotgun from a corner.
“I’ve had a few bits of trouble with this Captain Ryder before,” he
said, grimly. “And I’m goin’ to get him now, if that barge is still
stuck on that flat. Do you think that you can find your way back? If you
can’t, we can go up the river bank.”
Realizing that they had turned and twisted in their flight on the
previous evening the two told the sheriff that they were not sure that
they could, so he decided to lead them up the river bank.
“I think that is the best way, after all,” explained Sheriff Atkins.
“They may have gotten the barge afloat and we may see them coming down.
I hope we get them. If we do I’ll lock them all up on your charge and
others that I have.”
They gained the river bank and followed it up in the direction from
which the boys had come. It was a good five miles to the point where the
sand bar jutted out, and as they rounded a bend they could see the barge
still stuck in the mud.
“Good huntin’,” nodded the sheriff, satisfaction in his tone. “Now,
let’s hope the men are aboard. Say, what is that other boat near it?”
Terry looked and then shouted, “That’s my boat—my friends’ boat, the
_Lassie_. I guess they were looking for me and somehow they got down the
river. I wonder what they are going to do?”
They could see the sloop making for the barge, with Captain Blow
standing on the bow. Don and Jim stood in the cockpit, Don holding onto
the tiller. The sloop was drifting. They heard the captain call out.
“Ahoy there, barge! Hand over that boy of ours!”
The three members of the barge’s crew appeared from the cabin at his
hail. Ryder walked to the rear rail and shook his fist at Captain Blow.
Todd and Maxwell picked up handles from the hand winch and waited.
“You keep off o’ here!” they heard Ryder snarl. “We ain’t got your
darned old boy. Do you hear? Keep off!”
Captain Blow turned to the boys back of him. “Get ready to board ship!”
he roared.
Terry grasped the sheriff by the arm. “They’re no match for that crew!
Let’s hurry up!”
“Don’t worry, son,” said the sheriff. “I’ll see that no one gets hurt.”
_20. The Voyage Resumed_
Securely screened behind a convenient clump of bushes the sheriff, Jed
and Terry watched the scene before them, the sheriff smiling grimly, Jed
intensely interested, and Terry frankly anxious. Totally unaware of
their nearness the two crews faced each other, prepared for battle.
It was apparent that Captain Blow was thoroughly angry or he would never
have even thought of risking the boys in a fight with the tough barge
crew. He himself was well able to take care of Captain Ryder, but Todd
and Maxwell would make short work of Jim and Don. And even with this
knowledge in mind the cowardly members of the barge crew faced the crew
of the sloop with clubs in hand.
Don and Jim might have wondered at the outcome, but if they were at all
worried, the fact did not show in their looks. The sloop was drifting
straight for the barge and Don was trying to steer it so as to move up
broadside to the barge, on the side turned toward the open water, for
Don realized that the barge was aground and he did not want to ground
the sloop. Jim was standing beside his brother, quiet and a bit pale,
but determined nevertheless. All three of them felt sure that Terry was
aboard the barge and they were determined to rescue him, in spite of the
menacing attitude of the men aboard.
The sloop scraped alongside the barge and the captain, disregarding the
nearness of Ryder, tied it fast. The work had to be done swiftly, for
the barge captain, who had not believed the three on the sloop would go
through with it, rushed to the point where the captain looped the rope.
Blow sprang over the rail and faced the captain of the barge, and Don
and Jim, with clenched fists followed over the stern of the _Lassie_. As
Captain Blow closed with the old barge man, Todd and Maxwell rushed
furiously at the two boys, their ugly clubs upraised.
To Terry’s intense relief the sheriff stepped out in plain sight on the
bank and roared across the water. His voice acted like a shock on the
combatants.
“Hey, there!” the sheriff bellowed. “Hold up that there play!”
All action came to an abrupt end and the party on the deck of the river
barge swung around. The sheriff with Terry and Jed beside him, stood on
the bank, his shotgun leveled at the crew. With his eyes sighted along
the barrel he waved the gun slowly back and forth between the three men.
“It’s Terry!” shouted Jim, and Terry waved to his friends. Captain Blow,
who had a firm grip on the arm of Ryder, slowly released his hold.
“Get over here in your dinghy,” shouted the sheriff, keeping an alert
eye on the barge crew. “Never mind those fellows. I’ll take care of
them.”
Don, who was nearest, sprang over the rail of the sloop, untied the
dinghy, and quickly rowed to the shore, where he was soon
enthusiastically pounding Terry on the back.
“Chucklehead, you old rascal!” he exulted. “I’m mighty glad to see you.”
“Not nearly so glad as I am to see you,” drawled Terry, with a grin.
“Let’s get the sheriff out to the barge.”
When Sheriff Atkins reached the barge and faced the sullen crew he
nodded curtly to Captain Ryder. “’Morning, Ryder. Thought it was time I
got hold of you. Didn’t think these two fellows would get to me, did
you?”
“What do I care where they got?” snarled the captain. “You can’t hold
me, Atkins.”
“Can’t, eh?” remarked the sheriff. “I can hold you on a couple of
charges, but this one is the most serious. Kidnapping and attempted
assault is a pretty mess, Ryder. If we hadn’t popped up in a short time
you would have done some damage to these boys and this captain.”
“Right, sheriff,” put in Captain Blow. “We wouldn’t have thought of
taking on these men except we thought Terry was tied up somewhere and we
didn’t know where to get help. Much obliged for coming along when you
did.”
“Never mind the much obliged,” said the sheriff, briskly. “Pile these
fellows onto your sloop and we’ll run them down to Brockport and the
county jail. This is your last job, Ryder.”
With ugly looks but in utter silence the crew passed over to the sloop
and the boys followed. A hasty search of the cabin of the barge was made
by Blow and Jed, under the direction of the sheriff, who never lowered
his gun, but as nothing valuable was found they left it and the sloop
took to the middle of the river on the way to Brockport. The barge crew
sat on the top of the cabin, while the others clustered in the cockpit,
the sheriff’s gun pointed unwaveringly at the men.
“How’d you fellows come to arrive when you did?” the sheriff asked the
captain.
“We got the direction from the kidnapped lighthouse keeper,” Captain
Blow explained, “and we’ve been coming down the river all night. It
wasn’t long after daylight when we drew near the spot where these
fellows was, and we saw their barge stuck in the mud. So, thinkin’ our
boy was on board, we got ready for a fight, but your artillery saved us
from a terrible drubbing, I’m thankful to say.”
“Yes, I guess it did. Your boy Terry and this Jed, who was cook of the
barge, run the craft on the mud bank last night and escaped. Oh, you
fellows needn’t glare at Jed like that! Pretty soon you’ll be behind
bars and Jed’ll be out free, where he can enjoy life like an honest man.
So instead of clearing country you stayed to get the barge off of the
mud bank, eh? Pretty poor judgment, wasn’t it, boys?”
“We didn’t think that these two would get to anybody, and it looked like
we could get the barge off’n the mud,” began Maxwell, but his captain
interrupted savagely.
“Shut up, Max! Don’t tell ’em nothing!”
The sheriff laughed at the captain’s outburst of temper. Just then they
sighted the dock at Brockport and sailed up to it.
The inhabitants were greatly excited when the sheriff marched the three
men to the local jail, but Atkins calmly locked his men up and then
rejoined the boys and the captain and Jed. They went to his office and
signed a formal warrant, after which they went back to the sloop. It was
there that they said goodbye to Jed.
They had tried to persuade him to come with them but Jed had other
plans. “I’m going to work here in Brockport for a time and then move on,
probably to get back to farming somewhere. The sheriff says he can get
me a job in a store.” He shook hands heartily with Terry. “I won’t never
forget you, bub. My gosh! how you stood up to that captain, and now he’s
behind the bars. Some little fun we had together, eh?”
“We certainly did, Jed,” laughed Terry, his red hair bobbing up and down
in the manner which had given him his nickname. “But don’t forget that
if it hadn’t been for you I would never have made it. It was you who
told me of the sand bar and you jumped on Todd. The best of luck, Jed.”
Jed shook hands with the rest of the boys and then waved to them as they
sailed back up the river. As soon as things were settled they all sat
down and explanations came from each side. When Terry finished his story
the captain was hugely tickled.
“So you just up and shoved that barge on the sand bank, eh? Jumping
thunder, if that don’t beat all. You fellows do the darnedest things I
ever heard of.”
The run back to Mystery Island took them two days, and they were glad to
get there. They spent one delightful day with the captain and then got
ready to resume their cruise. The captain went out to the sloop with
them just before they were ready to cast off and shook hands.
“Come to see me again,” he invited. “I’m real happy to have known you.
You will come again, won’t you?”
“We surely will,” promised Don. “And please accept our thanks for your
very fine friendship and service, captain. We won’t forget it in a
hurry, you may believe.”
“Oh, say, you’ve had that bandit gang almost in your hands a couple of
times. If you run afoul of ’em again, try to hold on to them, will you?”
“We surely will,” said Jim, grimly. “I think we’re going to get those
fellows, yet. If we don’t, it won’t be because we haven’t tried.”
“I bet it won’t! Well, so long, boys. And good luck.”
As the _Lassie_ headed out to sea the boys turned more than once to wave
to their old friend, until they could not see him any longer. Then they
settled down once more to enjoy their cruise.
_21. The “Black Mummy”_
“Say Jim, there’s a good-sized freighter.”
Don sitting at the tiller of the _Lassie_ called his brother’s attention
to a large black freighter that could be seen some distance off their
starboard bow. It was several days later, and the three boys had cruised
leisurely down the coast, stopping now and then at cities to buy
provisions and see the sights. They were now near the coast of
Massachusetts, not far from Boston, which was their ultimate
destination. They had been sailing along under motor power all
afternoon, and now, toward evening, Don sighted the black freighter.
The weather had been stormy, as Captain Blow had assured them it would
be. He had made the prediction just before they had sailed, and the boys
took his word for it. Wind and rain had taken up most of the cruise, but
as sailing under such conditions was more interesting than calm sailing
the boys had not complained or greatly minded.
Terry and Jim looked toward the strange freighter with interest. It was
a shabby-looking boat, with the paint peeling off the sides. It wallowed
in the choppy waves about a mile to windward. During the cruise the boys
had not seen many freighters and they looked eagerly at this one.
“Wonder where she’s from?” said Jim.
“Haven’t any idea,” Don returned. “Maybe it’s just some old coaler or
lumber carrier. Quite a number of the old ships have been turned into
carriers. Funny thing, look at those smokestacks.”
“What’s wrong with ’em?” asked Terry.
“There isn’t any smoke coming out of them,” Don said. “I can’t hear its
engine running and from here it looks as if there’s nobody on deck. Get
out the glasses, will you, Jim?”
Jim went below, to return a few minutes later with a pair of marine
glasses. He looked toward the freighter.
“You’re right about the smokestacks,” he said. “And I wonder where the
crew is? What kind of a skipper must they have on that ship?”
“He must be a poor one,” Don commented. “Hold the tiller while I take a
look.”
Jim took over the tiller and Don looked steadily in the direction of the
big ship. After a time he lowered the glass.
“I can’t make out anyone on the bridge,” he said. “Could you?”
Jim shook his head. “No. Take a look and see if the flag is upside
down.”
“Why should it be upside down?” Terry asked.
“If it is upside down it is a signal of distress.”
“The flag is all right,” Don reported a moment later. “That freighter
looks strange to me. Shall we run close and look it over?”
“Yes, let’s do that.” And suiting his words with instant action Jim
moved the tiller until the _Lassie_ was heading toward the freighter.
“Gosh, we surely look awfully small alongside that baby,” Terry
remarked.
“Yes, that’s a big ship. I notice that it is pretty low in the water,
too. It must be loaded with something heavy,” said Don.
The sloop moved through the water at a lively clip and rapidly cut down
the distance that separated the two boats. As they drew nearer Don
trained his glass on the bow of the freighter.
“Well, jeepers, that’s a name for you!” he said suddenly.
“What’s its name?” asked Terry.
“Nice cheerful one,” grinned Don. “It is called the _Black Mummy_!”
“Oh, boy!” breathed Jim. “Some undertaker or grave digger must own it!”
They drew so near to the freighter that the aid of the glass was no
longer necessary. Both Don and Jim discovered an important fact at the
same time.
“There is no one at the wheel!” they said, in a chorus.
“What does that mean?” Terry asked.
“I don’t know,” Don confessed. “The wheel isn’t lashed down, either. It
must mean that either the captain and crew are all sick or there is no
one on that freighter!”
“An abandoned freighter?” cried Terry.
“Possibly. If everything was normal there would surely be someone
around. But something is wrong when there isn’t a man anywhere on deck.”
He turned to Jim. “Suppose we ought to hail them?”
“Yes,” nodded the younger boy, promptly. “It might be that someone is
ill there, and if that is the case we wouldn’t want to pass by without
finding it out. Sure, go ahead.”
They were now close beside the freighter, and Don stepped to the rail.
As the boys had noted before, boxes and fragments of rope lay tumbled
about the deck, and the freighter was in anything but shipshape
condition. The door to the companionway was open.
“Ahoy!” yelled Don, cupping his hands. “Anybody aboard the _Black
Mummy_?”
They waited for a moment, Jim turning off the motor, but no reply came
back. The deck of the freighter remained deserted, and the wheel
continued to turn back and forth. Don repeated his hail but there was no
answer.
“Well,” remarked Terry. “I guess we’ll have to go aboard.”
“Yes,” agreed Don. “We’ll have to tie up to the freighter, too. Our
anchor cable won’t be long enough to do any good out here, so we’ll have
to moor on to the rail of the freighter. Give her a little power, Jim,
and I’ll tie fast.”
Jim gave the Lassie a little power and drove the bow toward the stern of
the _Black Mummy_. The rail of the freighter was three or four feet
higher than that of the sloop, but Don waited until the bow of the sloop
was almost to the ship.
“Give it the reverse,” he directed, and Jim sent the motor into reverse.
With its speed visibly slackened the sloop approached the rail and Don
threw the painter over the rail and made fast. Jim shut off the motor
and the sloop rode gently beside the bigger ship.
“Well, let’s get aboard,” said Jim. “We’d better watch our step,
however. No knowing what we may find on that ship.”
With hearts beating the least bit rapidly the three boys swung over the
rail of the freighter and dropped onto the deck. They made their way
across the deck, past the wheel and came to the companionway. Don called
down.
“Anybody aboard?”
Only a mocking echo came back to him and they began their climb down the
ladder. They found themselves in a passageway, with the galley back of
them and cabins on each side. One look into the galley showed them that
the crew had evidently left in a hurry, for pots and pans were scattered
right and left over the sink, the table and the floor. Some scraps of
food had been partially devoured by rats and the refuse lay on the
floor.
“Well, there’s something funny here,” said Don, as he walked down the
passageway.
They looked into the rooms, to find each one of them empty. The largest
of all had evidently been a bunkroom for the crew.
“Must have had a crew of twelve or more,” decided Jim, after counting
the bunks.
There now remained only the hold to explore and they prepared to
descend. The hold was reached by a trap door at the end of the
passageway, although there was a large door on the deck opening to it.
The boys raised the trap and looked down.
“Awfully dark down there,” Terry remarked. “Too bad we didn’t bring a
light with us.”
“Yes, it is,” Don agreed, beginning to descend. “But we’ll just give a
glance around. We won’t be down there long enough to need a light.”
The short ladder ended abruptly and the boys found themselves at the
bottom of the hold. In the darkness they could see lumber piled around
them. It had been originally stacked high, but the movement of the waves
had caused it to fall together in the middle, forming a complicated and
tangled barrier.
“Just as I figured,” said Jim. “It’s a lumber barge. But whoever stacked
that lumber made a lousy job of it. It should have been braced, and
instead of that it was allowed to stand by itself. Now look at it!”
They decided that lumber was the only thing to be found in the hold, and
turned to leave. At that moment there came a terrific pounding somewhere
near them. Startled, the boys looked at each other.
“Hey, what’s that?” gasped Jim.
“Must be something knocking on the bottom of the boat,” guessed Terry.
The knocking came again, and the boys listened keenly. Don turned
startled eyes toward the others.
“What do you make of it?” Jim whispered.
“Someone, or something, is down under those boards!” was Don’s reply.
For a moment Jim stared at him. “What are we going to do?”
“We’ll have to go back to the _Lassie_, bring lanterns and go to work on
that tangle of lumber,” Don answered.
_22. The Secret of the Freighter_
The boys left the hold of the freighter and made their way over the deck
to the sloop. What little light there had been was now dying down and a
wall of darkness was sweeping over the ocean. Unnoticed even by
themselves, a silence had fallen over the boys.
They got lanterns in the hold of the _Lassie_ and paused long enough to
light them. When this had been done they once more climbed aboard the
freighter, their lights twinkling out against the darkness. The
freighter was gently pitching and tossing, and the loose gear was
sliding all over the deck.
“I guess I’ll lash that wheel down,” Don decided, as they crossed the
deck. He handed his lantern to Terry and locked the thrashing wheel in
place. Instantly, the lumber boat rode more smoothly and evenly.
“That will keep the lumber from bouncing around when we go to work down
there,” said Jim. “But say, suppose it was only a rat that we heard!”
“It could hardly be that,” Terry answered. “A rat could never make a
pounding like that. We’ll just have to go to it and shift that lumber.”
Once more they descended into the hold and looked for pegs to hang up
the lanterns. Finding convenient nails hanging from crossbeams they hung
the lamps and looked over the tangle of lumber.
“Let see how this works,” suggested Don. Cupping his hands he called:
“Hello! Anybody in this place?”
Almost immediately the thumping came to them from beneath the lumber.
The boys looked at each other.
“Somebody is under there, sure as I’m standing here,” said Jim.
“Yes, that’s sure,” nodded Don, stooping over the first piece of lumber.
“Let’s get going.”
He dragged one board toward him and Jim quickly took hold of the other
end. Between them they swung it to one side and began the base of an
orderly pile. Terry had started another and they swung that up.
“It is going to take us some time,” said Don. “But we can do it if we’re
careful of the way we pile it.”
The lumber had been originally piled in orderly stacks, but a lack of
proper bracing had allowed it to fall, probably under the pitching and
rolling of the freighter. It had evidently been tossed around like match
sticks, for it was badly tangled, and the boys found some difficulty in
getting hold of some of the pieces. Fortunately for them there was
enough room to one side to pile the pieces up neatly, and they worked
rapidly and silently, realizing that it was necessary to save breath.
From time to time the thumping continued, and the boys shouted
encouragement to the author of the noise. As nearly as they could judge
the sound came from the very center of the pile, and they were puzzled
as to how anyone could be held captive under such a load and still make
a noise.
“Unless,” decided Terry. “The lumber has formed some kind of a house or
shelter over his head and he is safe in there.”
Before very long the perspiration was running in small streams down the
foreheads of the toiling boys, and their breath was coming with
increasing difficulty. The air in the hold was not good, as not very
much circulated down from above, and they found themselves longing for a
breath of the invigorating salt air. But they did not slow up in their
job; they piled lumber to one side with a will, the new pile riding
above their heads.
“We’re getting near to the bottom,” panted Jim, after they had worked
for an hour and a half.
He spoke the truth, for they were now within a foot of the bottom of the
pile. Gathering their strength together the boys increased their speed
and gathered up the remaining boards. As they got to the bottom Don
said:
“This explodes Terry’s theory. There isn’t room enough under these
boards for anyone to even lie down.”
They had now reached the last board and they cleared it aside. As soon
as it was disposed of they saw an iron ring and a trap door in the floor
of the hold.
“Oh,” exclaimed Jim, as he bent over the ring. “The banging must have
been coming from underneath this door.”
They took hold of the ring and pulled, and the trap door swung upward,
to drop over backward with a crash. There was a movement in the darkness
below and then a shaggy head was poked out of the trap. It was a
wild-looking face, thickly bearded, with two burning eyes fixed in
sunken skin. The man reached toward them, clutched with one hand, and
then fell forward, his eyes closed.
“Quick,” ordered Don, bending over him. “He’s fainted. No knowing how
long he has been down there. We’ve got to get him on deck.”
It was not easy to raise the man out of the hole and carry him on deck,
for he was a heavy-set man, but the boys did it somehow. The hardest
part was getting him up the ladder, but that, too, was accomplished and
they placed him on the deck. Then, while Terry went to get the lanterns
Don and Jim poured water over the man’s face and rubbed his wrists.
After Terry had set the lanterns in a circle on the deck the man opened
his eyes and looked around him.
“By golly,” he said in a deep voice. “Vot der dunder happened to dis
ship? Vere is der crew?”
Don shook his head. “You’ve got me. We were cruising by in a sloop and
we saw the freighter apparently deserted. We were down in the hold when
we heard your knocking and we moved the lumber to find you. How long
have you been down there?”
The captain sat up and rubbed his shaggy head. “I dink a million years,
but more like idt iss a day. You zee, my crew one terrible superstitious
bunch of foreigners, and I vind t’at some of dem get ahold of some
licker. I dink to myself dat maybe somebody hide it in dat hole down
dere, so I go down to look. Well, at dere time de ship she roll and roll
and dat lumber not too steady, I see, and I say to myself, ‘Captain Jan
Vulfer, you beeg fool,’ but I go all der same. I not dell my crew dat I
go. Vell, ven I am in dat hole der boat give vun beeg rock and down come
de lumber, making of me a prisoner. I yell and pound but nobody come
near me. Vun leetle candle dat I had vent oudt, and I been dere until I
hear you boys and den I pound some more.”
“Yes,” said Jim. “We thought somebody was caught under the lumber and we
dug you out. Good thing we came along when we did, or you would have
died in there.”
The skipper nodded solemnly. “You bet you! You nefer know how much I
appreciate vot you done.” He looked around the ship. “Dot cowardly crew
must haf thought I was took avay py spooks and dey run avay from der
ship. By golly, I get dem back!”
“I guess that’s the answer,” said Don. “Suppose we get you something to
eat, captain?”
The captain jumped to his feet with alacrity. “Done!” he shouted. “Vot
you got to eat? If you run short, ve got plenty on der _Plack Mummy_.”
“We have plenty,” laughed Jim. “Want to come aboard the sloop, captain?”
The captain assented and they helped him over the rail to the sloop,
where Jim quickly prepared a substantial meal for him. While he ate he
told them that he was a skipper for a local firm from Maine, who shipped
lumber, and that he had been given an especially unruly crew on this
last voyage. He was determined to get them back to the ship. Meanwhile,
he assured the boys of his gratitude to them.
“Look at your hands,” he said, “all filled up mit blisters. By golly,
you fine fellows to work like der dickens for me.”
“Nonsense,” laughed Terry. “You wouldn’t expect us to go away and leave
you there in that hold, would you?”
Captain Vulfer shrugged his heavy shoulders. “Maype lots of fellows
vouldn’t go down in dot hold ven dey hear dot hammering. I bet you my
life idt sounded mighty like spooks, eh?”
“Yes, it was a bit scary,” the boys admitted.
The boys and the skipper slept on the deck of the freighter that night
and early in the morning the captain was up and moving about. He was in
good spirits and the boys found that they liked him very much. He
combined a fund of good humor and keen business sense, and he could be
authoritative and energetic when he wanted to be. He thought his crew
would be found close by at some shore resort and asked the boys if they
would run him ashore.
This they readily agreed to do, and after a hearty breakfast on the
sloop they got under way. It took them three hours to run to shore, and
they visited two small towns without finding any trace of the runaway
crew. But the Dutch captain was not cast down.
“Ve’ll surely vind dem,” he told them. “You zee, dey run away from der
ship in fear, but dey von’t know vot to do mit demselfs. Dey can’t get
anodder job until dey bring dat ship in, and I bet you ve find dem
drinkin’ dere head off in some blace.”
In a cheap hotel in the third town they found the missing crew. All of
them were sitting in the bar when Captain Vulfer walked into the place,
his arms folded and his brows knitted together. Surprise and disbelief
greeted the skipper as his motley crew saw him towering before them.
“So!” thundered the skipper, as the boys looked on from the doorway.
“Dis iss vere I vind you, hey? Joost because I go down der hold and take
maype a little nap behind der lumber. You cowardly children! Unless you
make one hurry up back to der boat I get you all put behind der bars in
Portsmouth ven I get dere. Scatter, you dunder and blitzen mice!”
The crew scattered. With eyes popping out of their heads they made a
rush for the long boat in which they had come ashore. And right behind
them, cruising slowly in the _Lassie_, came their watchful skipper. He
made them row back to the freighter, and once aboard he drove them with
a will of iron to clean up the ship.
Just before leaving the boys the skipper shook each one cordially by the
hand and pressed a beautiful hand-carved model of a full-rigged ship
upon them.
“Joost something dot I make myself,” he said. “You maybe keep it vor
your clubhouse, eh? Bye, bye. I never forget you, py golly.”
They waved to the captain as he leaned over the rail, until the
low-lying _Black Mummy_ passed out of sight under full power.
_23. The Chandler’s Shop_
A few days after the events aboard the black freighter the boys landed
from the _Lassie_ in Boston. They had been to the city once before when
they were younger, but neither of them remembered the place. Terry had
never been there, although he had always wanted to go. So it was with
eager interest that the three boys looked around the famous city.
Before leaving on the cruise their father had given them a letter to a
former business partner by the name of Ferris, and soon after landing in
the city the boys looked him up. They found him in his office, busily
engaged in his work as an importer. He scanned the letter Don handed to
him from his father and his clear-cut face lighted up in recognition.
“Well, well,” exclaimed Mr. Ferris, as he smilingly shook hands with the
boys. “So these are the Mercer boys and their friend, eh? I’m very happy
to know you, I’m sure. How is dad?”
Mr. Ferris turned out to be an excellent host. He insisted on finishing
up his business with unusual rapidity and then taking them around
Boston. Some of the sections of particular interest were covered on foot
and some in Mr. Ferris’ own car. The boys visited all of the historic
houses in the city and the monument at Bunker Hill. And at the end of
the day their host took them to his own house, a magnificent place on
one of the fine, secluded old drives of the city. There the boys were
made perfectly at home, and that night, after a delightful evening spent
with the Ferris family, which consisted of two young daughters and Mrs.
Ferris, beside Mr. Ferris, they slept in real beds once more.
“By golly, it surely feels good,” commented Jim, as he snuggled down in
the large bed which had been made ready for him.
“No doubt that it does,” retorted Terry, who was to occupy the same bed.
“But I’d thank you to move over, instead of sprawling all over the bed
as if it was yours.”
“If you want any of it, you’ll have to fight for it, Chucklehead,”
taunted Jim.
But when Don saw the light of mischief that leaped into Terry’s eyes he
promptly vetoed the proposition.
“Nothing doing, you two,” he warned. “That would be all right if we were
out on the boat, but we’re not. You can’t roughhouse in here. You’ll
have to move over, Jim.”
Jim sighed. “Suppose I’ll have to. But anywhere else Terry would have to
win his half of this bed! I got here first!”
On the following day, after the boys had enjoyed a splendid night’s
rest, Mr. Ferris took the day off to entertain them. Although the boys
did not know very much about the gentleman they did know that he had
been very intimate with their father several years ago, and so they
appreciated his efforts in their behalf. They spent most of the day
simply enjoying themselves around the house, and in the afternoon Don
proposed that they visit some chandler shops near the waterfront.
“We might be able to pick up something useful for the sloop,” he
suggested. “We broke the frame of one porthole, and I’d like to hunt up
a new one.”
Mr. Ferris knew the location of several ship shops and the boys visited
one or two of them, but were unable to find a porthole frame to fit the
one which had been broken on the _Lassie_. After they had visited the
larger shops Don was ready to give it up.
“I guess we’ll have to order one, to be made special,” he said.
But Mr. Ferris knew of one more shop that they had not visited. It was
down in a small alley that ran off the docks, he said, and while it was
not much of a place, he felt that they might have the good luck to find
what they were in search of. So they drove down to the docks in his car
and parked near the mouth of the alley. Midway down this dark street
they found the place, a dark little hole in the wall, and they entered.
The proprietor, a little humpbacked man, appeared with wonderful
rapidity from a green curtain at the back of the darkened store and
waited on them. Don looked over his badly arranged stock of ship
fittings in the corner and Terry and Jim wandered around the store,
examining various articles. The store was not in any way neat, ropes,
clocks, wheels, anchors, glasses and other articles being piled
carelessly all over the place. Mr. Ferris stood with Don, looking over
the porthole fittings.
Don had found what he was looking for, and he examined it with unusual
care, to make sure that there was no flaw in it. The portholes on the
sloop were of an odd size and he had had to use unusual care in
selecting one to fit it. After looking this particular one over he
decided that it would do.
“This one is all right,” he told the proprietor. “I’ll take it.”
The owner went to wrap it up and Don turned his attention to other
objects. He noticed that Jim was standing apart examining a ship’s
clock, but thought nothing further about it at the time. But he would
have been more curious had he known what was attracting his brother’s
attention.
Jim had been picking up various articles during the time in which Don
was looking over the porthole frame, and his attention had been
especially drawn to the few ships’ clocks that the chandler had on
display. One of them attracted him more than the others and he picked it
up and looked closely at it. He turned it over in his hand, a puzzled
look on his face.
“Jeepers, that looks like my clock, the one that was stolen,” he
muttered.
Out of the corner of his eye he noted that the dealer was wrapping up
Don’s purchase and he acted upon a thought which came to him. It was
more of a memory than a thought, for he had just remembered that he had
scratched his initials on one of the flanges on the back of his clock.
Quickly he turned the clock over, tilted it up, and on the ornamental
overhang of the clock he saw faintly the markings “J. M. M.” Without a
doubt it was his own clock.
Without saying anything he put the clock back and they all went out of
the shop. It was not until they had left the neighborhood that he asked
Mr. Ferris to draw up to the curb while he told his story. It created
quite a sensation.
“Then that’s the headquarters of the marine bandits,” declared Don, with
conviction.
“Well, you can’t be sure of that,” said Mr. Ferris. “It is possible that
the man might have simply bought stolen goods. But we’ll report this to
the police at once. It is well worth knowing, and we may be on the right
track, or have a very valuable clue.”
Without loss of time they went to the nearest police station and
reported the matter to the local chief. He was much interested.
“This may prove to be a big thing,” he said, pushing a row of buttons on
his desk. “We’ve been after these fellows all along the waterfront for a
long time, but up until now they have managed to slip through our hands
with ease. This may be the finishing touch. I’ll put my men on the trail
at once.”
Several detectives reported to the chief, who informed them of the
details of a raid which he planned. He decided to go down personally and
the boys begged to be allowed to go. He assented and they rode down in
Mr. Ferris’ car.
“We’ll go around to the alley at the back,” the chief decided. “I have
men who are to raid the place in the front and I think it best that we
look in at the rear. There may be some means of exit there that will
bear watching.”
They ran down the alley that passed back of the ship chandler’s place
and sat in the car, waiting. After what seemed like a long time a
whistle suddenly shrilled out from the other street. Instantly the
captain was out of the car, the boys and Mr. Ferris following.
“I guess we can get in this way,” the chief said, leading the way
between two narrow houses. They arrived at the back of the shop in time
to see two detectives come out with two men, one of whom was Frank and
the other the man called Marcy.
“Got these two sleeping in the back, chief,” one of the detectives said.
“The boss of the place is out front, safely collared. I guess this is a
dumping ground, all right. The cellar is full of stuff.”
“Do you boys know either of these men?” asked the chief.
“Indeed we do,” answered Don. “This man Frank helped to imprison me, and
later on he tried to capture the sloop when Terry was on board. The
other man is the one who followed me through the cellar at Mystery
Island.”
“I wonder what became of Benito the leader?” mused Jim.
One of the detectives shook the two captives. “Where is your leader?”
asked the detective.
“Don’t know,” said Frank, sullenly.
“Look here,” said the detective. “We——”
At that moment a small door in a house a short distance from the
chandler’s shop opened suddenly and a man bolted out. The boys
recognized him at once.
“Benito!” shouted Don and Jim, in a breath.
The man hesitated for a second and then began to run. But that second
was his undoing. Just as the chief started after him Terry launched into
action. He was nearest and he moved swiftly. A few running steps he took
and then dived in a fine football tackle, catching the running bandit
just at the knees. Benito went down like a log, and before he could get
up the chief and the boys were upon him.
“Got you this time,” panted Terry. “First down and goal to go, though
you won’t be worrying about that now.”
They lifted the leader of the gang to his feet and handcuffed them all.
The chief was pleased with the day’s work.
“Fine work, my boys,” he cried, enthusiastically. “I think this spells
the end of that marine bandit gang.”
_24. The End of the Cruise_
The boys learned that there was a large reward due them for the capture
of the marine bandits, for several wealthy boat owners who had suffered
from the outlaws had long ago banded together and offered a reward for
any information leading to the arrest of the men. There would be some
little official delay, they learned, but it would come to them in the
near future.
On the following day they left their kind host and his family and began
the return cruise. The summer was now drawing to a close and they were
beginning to think seriously of the fall activities. They found that
they had just time to sail home without rushing and it was with light
hearts that they sailed out of Boston harbor on their return trip.
“Presuming that we won’t meet up with any more bandits or old houses on
mysterious islands, we ought to get home in about one-third less time
than it took us to sail down,” Don remarked, as he sat by the tiller.
“We’ll try hard to keep out of trouble,” grinned Jim. “Maybe if we steer
far enough away from the shore we can manage to do it!”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Terry put in. “I rather enjoyed it all.”
“No doubt,” Don agreed. “It is great sport when it is over. Only, at the
time you don’t know what is going to turn up and you get to worrying
pretty much. When I was a prisoner in the old house I couldn’t see any
way out to save my neck.”
“That’s the big part of it,” said Jim. “We might have been unlucky
enough to have lost the _Lassie_. That would have been a real tragedy.”
“As long as we owe so much to Captain Blow, why not stop off long enough
to see him?” suggested Terry.
“A good idea, Chucklehead,” said Don. “We’ll do that.”
The sail back to Mystery Island was uneventful, and they arrived at the
captain’s cove five days after leaving Boston. They had sailed steadily
and had covered the distance in much shorter time than they had required
to run down the coast. The captain had not seen them come in, and they
had their canvas down before he did come to the door and hail them.
He knew the sloop at once and put off in the dory, running out to them.
In high good humor he shook hands all around and invited the boys up to
his shack. They went ashore with him and spent a jolly evening at his
home. There they told him of their discovery and the final capture of
the marine bandits.
“That’s fine,” the captain boomed, nodding his shaggy head. “I cal’late
you boys’ll have a little money when you get that reward, won’t you?
What you got in mind for the fall?”
“We’re hoping to go to school somewhere,” answered Don. “We haven’t
decided as yet where it will be. About the first thing we’ll have to do
when we get home is to look up some schools and find out about them.”
“Sure ’nough, sure ’nough.” The captain turned to Terry. “You thinkin’
of going to school on your reward money?”
“Well, I don’t know,” said Terry, slowly. “I’d like to very much. I’d
like to go where Don and Jim go, but that money will help so much around
home that I feel I couldn’t do it with a clear conscience.”
Although the Mercer boys said nothing, the fact that they were soon to
lose Terry was not a pleasant one. They had grown very fond of the
red-headed fellow with his extreme good nature, and they knew that in
the days to come they would miss him.
They spent the night with Captain Blow, sleeping on the floor of the
shack on their own blankets. They were awakened in the morning by Bella,
who was perched on the back of a chair. With her head on one side and
her feathers outspread she was croaking: “Get up! Turn out! Get up! Turn
out!” over and over. Finding that it was broad daylight, and that no
further sleep could be considered while the critical parrot was there,
the boys left their blankets and helped the captain get a hearty
breakfast.
It was one of the few clear days that they had had, and they ate their
final meal with the captain in the shack, the door wide open to the
streaming sunlight. After they had helped the captain clean up, over his
protests, the boys said goodbye once more and shook hands heartily with
their friend.
“Drop me a line now and then,” the captain urged, as he took them out in
his dory. “I’ll be anxious to hear from you at any time. And if you ever
get down this way, say on another summer cruise, drop in and see me. I
reckon I’ll have new neighbors by that time. I hear they’re going to
turn this island into a summer place, and if that’s so I won’t be
bothered with bandits for neighbors. Don’t forget old Cap’n Blow.”
They assured him earnestly that they had no intention of forgetting him
and then the captain said a final goodbye and went back to shore. The
boys waved until they were out of sight.
“A swell guy,” said Jim, as they sailed along. “We’ll be glad to write
to him, and if we ever get the chance we’ll surely drop in again and see
him.”
All of the following days were dull and gray, and they were held up for
a full day in heavy fog. During the fog they tied up at a dock, and when
they felt that the fog had cleared sufficiently they resumed their sail.
At ten o’clock one morning they sailed up the creek to the Mercer house,
bringing the cruise to an end.
“It was what you’d call a stormy cruise, but an exciting one,” Don said,
as they furled all sail.
“It certainly was,” agreed Terry. “I enjoyed every minute of it.”
Mr. and Mrs. Mercer were glad to see them safely back and they made a
happy party out of it. Afterward the boys went upstairs to clean up for
dinner, and when they came down Mrs. Mercer met them in the library. She
had a long letter in her hand.
“This is for you, Terry,” she said. “It is something special that your
mother had forwarded here. It has been here about two weeks now.”
Terry took the letter, glanced at the envelope and then, excusing
himself, began to read it. They saw a look of surprise, wonder and
pleasure shoot over his long lean face. It became violently red, and he
looked up in confusion.
“Jeepers!” he exclaimed.
“What’s the matter, Terry?” asked Don, anxiously. “No bad news, I hope?”
Terry shook his head. “It—it isn’t so bad,” he stammered. “It says that
I’ve won a scholarship to Woodcrest Military School, up in New York
State!”
“No kidding!” cried Jim.
“Oh, it’s true, that is—I—I guess it’s true. Early in the spring I took
a special examination that the school puts out, never thinking that I’d
win in it. There was a chance for three winners, and, well, I’m one of
them!”
They congratulated him heartily. “How many were entered in the
competition?” asked Jim.
“A hundred or more, I’m told. I don’t know just how many,” replied the
dazed Terry.
“Where did you come in?” Don asked.
“I don’t remember,” Terry said. Don looked at him sternly.
“Come on now, Chucklehead. Was it first?”
“Yes,” confessed Terry. “It was.”
“I’m very glad to hear that,” nodded Mr. Mercer. “That means you can go
without worrying over it in the least. You won’t be a drag on your
family or in any way inconvenience them.” He turned to his boys. “Where
are you fellows going to school?”
“We don’t know,” said Don. He turned to Terry. “What is this Woodcrest
School like?”
“Well, it’s a high class military school, located at Portville, New
York, on Lake Blair,” said Terry. “They have a four-year course, and I
hear that there are about three hundred students there. All phases of
active military life are offered to teach the importance of honor,
obeying orders, and mature thinking. Outside of that I don’t know
anything about it, but it sounds pretty good to me.”
“It sounds pretty good to me, too,” promptly seconded Don. “What do you
think of sending us there, Dad?”
“It is just my idea of the right place to send you,” said Mr. Mercer,
heartily. “I know the three of you will be happy together, and I think a
military academy life will do you a world of good. If you think you
would enjoy it at Woodcrest, go there by all means.”
The boys spent the rest of the day talking about the coming year at
school. On the following day Terry climbed into Jumpiter and prepared to
leave them.
“Thanks a lot for a swell time,” the red-headed boy said. “I’ve had a
marvelous time, I assure you. But the best of it all is that we’ll be
together in the fall.”
“That’s right,” the Mercer boys agreed. “We’ll see you at the academy in
a few weeks. So long, Terry.”
“So long,” nodded the pilot of Jumpiter. With the cheerful grin which
characterized him he whirled out of the drive in his battered car.
“Well,” said Jim, as they turned back to the house, “I suppose we’ll
have some more adventures when we get to school. Wonder what they’ll
be?”
Jim was right in more ways than one. What adventures did befall the
brothers and their red-headed friend will be set forth in the second
volume entitled, The Mercer Boys at Woodcrest.
[Illustration: FALCON BOOKS]
_For Girls_
Champion’s Choice BY JOHN R. TUNIS
Patty and Jo, Detectives BY ELSIE WRIGHT
BY KAY LYTTLETON
Jean Craig Grows Up
Jean Craig in New York
Jean Craig Finds Romance
Jean Craig, Nurse
Jean Craig, Graduate Nurse
BY JEAN MCKECHNIE
Penny Allen and the Mystery of the Haunted House
Penny Allen and the Mystery of the Hidden Treasure
_For Boys_
The Spirit of the Border BY ZANE GREY
The Last Trail BY ZANE GREY
Call to Adventure BY ROBERT SPIERS BENJAMIN
Champs on Ice BY JACK WRIGHT
The Strike-Out King BY JULIAN DE VRIES
The Winning Basket BY DUANE YARNELL
Over the Hurdles BY EMMETT MAUM
Boys’ Book of Sea Battles BY CHELSEA CURTIS FRASER
Through Forest and Stream BY DUANE YARNELL
BY CAPWELL WYCKOFF
The Mercer Boys’ Cruise on the Lassie
The Mercer Boys at Woodcrest
The Mercer Boys on a Treasure Hunt
The Mercer Boys’ Mystery Case
The Mercer Boys with the Coast Guard