HOW IT WORKED OUT.
What with the stunning effect of the blow he had received as he was
swung against the schooner's stern works and the shock of the
accident which had followed, Nat's senses almost left him for an
instant. Like one in a dream he hung there, just under the swell of
the vessel's counter and listened to the voices above him. They were
Colonel Morello's and Ed. Dayton's.
"What in the name of Beelzebub was it?" he heard Dayton's harsh voice
inquiring.
"I don't know. I could have sworn for an instant that I saw the
flash of a hand through the window," growled out Morello--evidently
from the nearness of the sound he still had his head outside the
cabin port.
"Bah! How could that be?" scoffed Dayton from within, "unless the
schooner is haunted. It must have been the last lurch she gave."
"That must have been it," agreed Morello, withdrawing his head, "but,
at any rate, our supply of liquor was knocked off that shelf and the
bottle broken. What do you say if we go forward and get some more?"
"The very thing," Nat could hear Dayton reply. The next instant he
heard the slam of a door float through the open port above him and
knew that the cabin must be empty.
Now was his time to act then, and fortunately for him, with his
returning senses there had come a slight lull in the wind. The
schooner was steadier, and by dint of pressing his knees against her
structure when he climbed above the overhang of the stern he managed
to ascend at a famous rate.
All at once he found himself opposite the cabin window once more.
The blind or shade that his unlucky swing had knocked aside was now
open, however, and he could plainly see the interior of the place.
His curiosity quite overcame his prudence, as, steadying himself by
pressing his feet into some scroll work contrived about the vessel's
name on the stern, he gazed eagerly into the apartment which was
lighted by a powerful hanging lamp.
But hardly had his eyes taken in the details of the place and
observed that it was empty, Dayton and Morello having both departed
to replenish the spirit bottle, before his eyes lit on something that
made him start and hold his breath. In plain view within and right
below the cabin window was the sapphire chest.
From his position Nat could almost by an effort have reached within
and touched it. The sight of the plundered box raised within him a
strange feeling of anger against the rascals who had stolen it. All
fear seemed to drop from him like a garment. As he gazed one of
those strange accessions of desperate resolve which come sometimes in
moments of intense peril visited him.
"Why would it not be possible to regain the box, and, in the event of
their plan being successfully carried out, take it with them in the
boat?"
It seemed to Nat that hardly had the idea flashed into his mind
before, impelled by some strange, irresistible resolve, he was within
the cabin, having scrambled through the port, dragging his rope in
with him. Barefooted as he was, he made no more noise than a panther
tracking its game.
In the same noiseless manner in which he had entered the place he
glided across the carpeted floor to the door leading on to the deck,
by means of a companionway. Within it was a heavy bolt and massive
chain, relics no doubt of the same epoch that had witnessed the
construction of the specie room. It was the work of an instant to
slip the bolt into place and then adjust the chain. This done, the
lad was secure from interruption for a few moments at any rate. Even
if he could not accomplish the feat of transferring the chest to the
boat he could at least carry out a desperate resolve he had formed.
This was no less than at all hazards to deprive the rascals of the
benefits they had filched. Nat had determined that if he were
discovered before he had had time to complete his work that he would
heave the chest through the port and into the sea, thus losing the
sapphire hoard to Morello and his men for all time.
But Nat had high hopes that he would have time to put through the
plan of escape as he and Captain Nelsen had planned it out together.
Slipping back across the cabin floor, he took the end of his rope and
made a double half hitch around the chest, which, to his surprise,
was not nearly as heavy as he had imagined it would be. This,
however, he attributed to his excitement.
He had just completed this work and was about to heave the chest,
with the rope attached, out of the port when something happened that
seemed to drive every drop of blood in his body into his heart and
then send it racing in a mad torrent through his veins.
Click!
This was the sound that had made Nat glance up from his work in time
to behold one of the stateroom doors that opened off the cabin
swinging ajar.
The next instant it was opened fully and the huge form of Swensen,
the giant Swede, stalked out.
Nat was motionless as a frightened rabbit. In the dreadful crisis he
was temporarily deprived of the power of crying out or moving.
Swensen's eyes fixed themselves on the boy with a peculiar
expression, and in his bare feet--for he was in his night clothes--he
began to advance toward him. Closer and closer he came and still Nat
stood, held by a dreadful spell that bound his limbs and fettered his
tongue--not indeed that it would have done him any good to have cried
out.
But suddenly--just as suddenly as he had appeared--Swensen turned and
in the same slow, deliberate way started back toward his cabin. It
was then that Nat noted something that in his alarm he had not seen
before.
The man was asleep!
He had walked out of his cabin in a fit of somnambulism, or
sleep-walking, and now he reentered it again and doubtless climbed
back into his bunk.
Hardly had his immense bony form vanished and the door clicked to
behind him once more before Nat had the chest out of the port and
then when it swung at the end of the rope, dropping like the weight
on a plumb line, he followed it.
His rope was now much easier to climb, for it was steadied by the
weight of the chest at its lower end. The length of the line was
sufficient to allow the chest to dangle within a foot or two of the
water.
With renewed courage Nat swarmed on up the rope and presently was
able to poke his head over the taffrail. As Captain Nelsen had said,
the helmsman, by reason of the peculiar steering device of the
"Nettie Nelsen," was some little distance from the stern, forming an
additional protection in the work that lay before him. Between Nat
and the man at the wheel there was a big pile of canvas and boxes,
apparently left there by some of the gang after they had ransacked
the schooner.
At any rate, Nat managed to clamber up into the boat, which hung out
on her davits, without attracting any attention from the man. Once
in the boat, the lad took a swift look about him. At the helm was
the steersman, a soft light thrown up on his rugged features from the
binnacle. From forward some stentorian voice was roaring out a
chorus. Nat devoutly hoped that the noise might keep up, for it was
not to be supposed that he could lower the boat in absolute quietness.
All at once something happened that sent him crouching down in the
bottom of the dingy. Morello and Dayton suddenly appeared on the
stern. The former addressed the helmsman.
"We're in for some bad weather, Larsen. You'll have to stand an
extra trick at the wheel, for all hands will be needed on the sails."
As he listened, Nat noticed what in his excitement he had hitherto
overlooked. A remarkable change had come over the night. The stars
were blotted out and the wind had fallen till it was almost a dead
calm. In the lull the schooner rolled heavily, her sails flapping
and her blocks cracking complainingly.
Suddenly off to the west a vivid red streak split the sky. It was
followed after an interval by the heavy booming of thunder.
"I'll go below and call Swensen," Nat heard Dayton say.
The boy's pulses bounded. If Dayton carried out this resolve, it
meant that he would discover that the cabin door was locked on the
inside and suspicion would instantly be aroused. In the search which
would certainly follow he would be discovered, and also Captain
Nelsen. What their fate would be in such a case Nat dared not think.
But fortunately Colonel Morello vetoed this proposal.
"Let him have his sleep out," he said; "the storm won't be on us for
some time yet, and Hicks can take care of the work of shortening
sail."
"Well, how about that old sea horse, Captain Nelsen?" were the next
words of Dayton. Nat's heart fairly stood still for an instant and
then gave a terrified bound as Colonel Morello exclaimed:
"By Beelzebub, I had forgotten him. Go below and rout him out."