Closer and closer came the sharp, insistent bark of the gasoline motor.
Presently a dark shadow glided by at about six boat-lengths from the
consul’s launch, lying crouched, as it were, in the shadow of the
promontory.
“They’re evidently not afraid of being followed,” whispered Ned, as
they waited the midshipman’s word to start up their craft.
At last the command came. The young officer had hesitated to give
it sooner, as he wanted to make sure of being out of earshot of the
leading motor-boat before he started. Loaded down as she was, the
revolutionaries’ craft was making but slow time. It was evident,
though, from the rapid beat of her exhaust that her engine was being
pressed to the uttermost.
“All right, go ahead!”
Like a ferret in pursuit of its prey, the naval party’s launch glided
out of its obscurity and set off on what was to prove an eventful chase.
“They’re heading north, sir,” whispered Ned.
“Just as I thought,” came Midshipman Stark’s voice in the darkness.
Luckily the wind was out of that quarter, and while the sound of the
other craft’s exhaust was clearly borne back to them, of their own
progress it would have been manifestly impossible to hear a sound on
the leading launch.
“Speed her up a bit,” ordered the middy. “We don’t want them cutting in
shore on us before we’ve a chance to intercept them.”
The launch leaped forward in obedience to his command. She was making
a good ten knots now, while her adversary could not at the highest
estimate have achieved more than seven. The hearts of all on board beat
exultingly. Gradually they could make out a phosphorescent gleam on
the water ahead and catch the fleeting glimpse of a dim lantern, which
marked the whereabouts of the quarry.
“Good, we’ll be up with her in half an hour now,” muttered Stanley, his
eyes burning in his head as he riveted them greedily on the chase. The
man-of-war’s man was on the work he loved best. The hot blood raced
through his veins in the excitement of the chase, as was the case, in
fact, with all the party, with one exception. Who that was we shall
presently see.
For an hour the steady pursuit was kept up, the naval party keeping as
close as they dared to the stern of the other craft. Evidently their
plan was working to perfection. It was clear that those on the leading
boat had no idea that they were being pursued. Once or twice a snatch
of song floated back to those behind her.
“Sing away while you’ve got the chance,” muttered Stanley grimly.
“You’ll sing a different tune before long.”
Suddenly out of the blackness ahead something flashed from a low point
of land.
“A red light!” exclaimed Ned.
“Red light ahead, sir!” warned Stanley hoarsely.
“Ay, ay, I see it,” breathed the middy. “We’re on the old fox’s hole
now.”
All at once the speed of the launch, which had been as steady as an
automobile, suddenly checked. She began to drop behind.
“Consarn it! what’s the trouble now?” growled Stanley, while the middy
skipped aft.
“What’s the matter, my man?” he asked of the solitary figure bending
over the engine.
“Don’t know, sir. The motor’s slowing down.”
“Well, fix her, and fix her quick. We can’t afford to lose time now.”
“Sorry, sir,” muttered the engineer, “but it may take some time to
locate the trouble.”
He bent over the engine and appeared to be deep in efforts to adjust
it. But Ned’s quick ear had caught a sound which sent him leaping back
along the length of the launch’s cockpit. Hastily he bent over the
engine and felt a bearing. It was hot to the touch, and he withdrew
his hand sharply, but some substance clung to it. In the light of the
single lamp illumining the motor he extended his palm for the officer’s
inspection.
“Sand, sir!”
“You scoundrel, were you trying to cripple the motor?” shot out the
middy, his eyes flashing.
The engineer turned up a white, scared face. As the light of the
lantern illumined it Ned could not suppress a cry of surprise and
recognition. The man was the same who had dived overboard for the
letter from the fishing boat, and who had aroused the boy’s suspicion
on other occasions.
“Why, no, sir!” exclaimed the man in an injured tone. “You see, we keep
sand to extinguish a fire in case one starts from the gasoline. I guess
some of it got sprinkled on the bearing.”
“And I think you’re lying,” muttered Ned, as he rapidly cleansed the
bearing and the launch once more shot ahead.
Now the red light was swinging to and fro on the point as if it were a
signal.
“I guess the revolutionists are camped there as thick as flies round
molasses,” hazarded Stanley. “What are we to do, sir--keep on?”
“Yes, keep on!” ordered the middy in a tense voice. Though he strove to
keep them calm, his accents were vibrant with suppressed excitement.
“Cut in there, Stanley, cut in!” he exclaimed suddenly, as the launch
in the lead began to turn her nose toward the shore. By this time the
naval launch had forged up into an inside position, and lay between the
revolutionaries’ craft and the point. If there was shoal water there
should be no difficulty in cutting the gun-runner off.
“Full speed ahead, and no monkeying with those engines,” grated out the
middy, with so fierce a look that the engineer instantly obeyed.
Up and up they crept, without apparently being perceived, till they
were within a boat’s length. Then a man was seen to leap upward on the
stern of the other launch and gaze back. He gave a shout of surprise as
he saw the other boat creeping up to intercept them. Already the naval
launch had cut the revolutionary agents off from their expected landing
place.
“Pray Heaven we don’t hit a rock, and we’ve got them,” breathed Stanley.
Bang!
There was a flash of fire from the leading launch, and a bullet
whistled past the heads of the pursuers.
“Now, then, wade in!” cried the midshipman excitedly.
Hardly five feet separated the launches now and the gap was rapidly
closing. There was a grating sound, as the consul’s launch ran
alongside the other. Before any one could stop him Stanley, with a
wrench in his hand, jumped on board the gun-runner.
Crash!
He brought the wrench down with all his force on the spark plug of the
other boat’s motor. With a groan and a sputter, she lay helpless as the
explosions of her motor ceased.
“By Jove, we’re in for it now!” he heard Midshipman Stark exclaim, as
two more bullets ploughed under the awning of their craft.
But totally taken by surprise, the figure which had fired the first
shot from the leading launch took to the water with a splash. A second
later another disturbance of the water announced that his companion
had followed his example. This left only three frightened natives on
board, who began crying out at the top of their voices for mercy.
“Shut up, or we’ll blow your heads off,” roared Stark, in a fierce
voice, and, although they did not understand a word he said, the nature
of his tones was quite sufficient to warn the peons that silence would
be golden. They therefore subsided in the stern of the boat.
Stanley came leaping back on board the naval launch.
“We’ll have to tow her, sir,” he announced.
“And quickly, too,” rejoined the other in a low voice. “Those fellows
ashore will wake up to what’s happened in a moment.”
“Thank goodness all those boxes are on board,” grinned Stanley, as he
resumed the wheel and the launch, with her cumbersome tow alongside,
started up.
“I guess that’s spiked the revolutionaries’ guns for a while!”
exultingly exclaimed Stark. “Those guns would be worth a few hundred
rifles to them if they had them.”
There had been no time to rig a hawser, and the disabled launch floated
alongside the consul’s craft by a hastily fastened line, made fast
about her forward samson-post.
“Come on, Stanley, head around!” exclaimed the middy. “We don’t want to
be recognized in this thing.”
But Stanley at the wheel turned a white face toward his officer.
“This tide’s pulling us right down on the point, sir.”
“Great Scott! and it’s alive with troops, too, I’ll bet the admiral’s
Sunday hat. Do your best, man.”
Stanley gritted his teeth and set the wheel hard over, but the launch
still drifted.
“Look here, sir!” exclaimed Ned suddenly, “the tiller line’s broken!”
He held up a broken end of line.
“More treachery, or looks that way. Fix it up quick, Strong.”
Suddenly the dark trees along the shore burst into crackling flame. A
deadly rifle fire poured from them. There was no doubt now as to the
revolutionaries’ whereabouts.
“They’ve waked up at last!” exclaimed Ned, as having adjusted the
broken line he leaped lightly forward once more.
At the same instant Stanley gave a slight groan, and jerked his hand
from the wheel as if it had been red hot.
“Winged!” he exclaimed briefly, holding up a limp wrist.
Ned shoved him aside and seized the spokes. Already the wheel had
dropped over, allowing the launch to drift nearer to the deadly point.
Bullets fell about them like rain now. The air was full of their
screaming sounds. They could hear the patter-patter as the leaden hail
ricochetted over the water. The launch was struck in half a dozen
places, but luckily not below the water line.
“Can you make it, Strong?”
It was Stark’s voice, as he leaned over the boy.
“I think so, sir. You’d better lie down. It’s getting pretty hot here.”
As he spoke a bullet whistled so close to Ned’s ear that he ducked.
“Hooray! a miss is as good as a mile,” yelled the boy, the excitement
of battle coming over him. All his life Ned had dreamed and hoped of
being in one of the naval engagements he had read about, and now,
without the slightest warning, here he was in the thick of it. He would
have given his chance of promotion almost to have been able to seize up
his revolver and fire back at the revolutionists.
“There must be a hundred of them in there,” grunted Stanley, tearing
off his shirt and allowing Herc to bind up his wrist.
“All of that,” rejoined Herc. “Wow, I hear the bees hum!”
The red-headed youth clapped his hand to his amber thatch as if to
check the bullet that had just whistled past him. Ned, his heart
beating tumultuously, stuck to his post. In another moment they would
be past the promontory and out of danger.
Suddenly the engineer rose from beside his engines and climbed out on
the little stern deck. He raised his hands above his head as if to dive
and swim ashore.
“He’s gone mad from fright!” shouted Stanley.
“Look out for sharks!” warned Stark. “The water’s alive with them.”
But without heeding the warning cries, the panic-stricken wretch
prepared to make a wild leap. There was a fresh volley from the point
and a rattle of sharp reports. The engineer threw his hands above his
head and collapsed in a moaning heap.
“A hit!” exclaimed Stanley grimly.