ONE PLOT AND ANOTHER
"We've got the water for you," said Sack Todd. "We don't know as you
deserve it, but we don't want to be mean."
As he spoke he and Gasper Pold held down a jug containing not more
than two quarts.
"Not a very big supply," grumbled Tom. "We'll want a good deal more
down here. This is a regular sweatbox."
"You don't have to stay any longer than you wish," answered the
ex-counterfeiter, with a sickly grin.
"Ven do ve git somedings to eat?" asked Hans.
"In the morning."
This was all those above said, and soon the hatch was shut down and
fastened and Todd and Pold walked slowly away.
"They didn't seem to care much whether we surrendered or not," remarked
Sam.
"That makes me more suspicious than ever," answered Dick. "Boys, Dan
Baxter may have been acting on the square after all."
"Catch Dan doing that!" retorted Tom. "Why, it isn't in him, Dick."
"I don't know about that. He is bad, I know, but he may not be as
much of a villain as these men are. I am going to examine the contents
of this jug."
All gathered around while Dick cleaned out the tumbler and then filled
it with the liquid from the jug. The water looked fairly clear,
although presently something like oil began to float on top. Dick
put his tongue to this and found it sweetish-bitter.
"This has certainly been dosed," said the eldest Rover. "I wouldn't
take a drink of it for a good deal."
"Then Baxter must have told the truth," said Sam. "I think I know
how the matter stands. Baxter got scared at what the men wanted to
do, and so started in to head them off. I believe I'll take a small
drink of that other water."
He did so, and the others followed, nobody, however, drinking more
than half a tumbler of the liquid. This served to quench the worst
of their thirst.
"Later on, if the water doesn't affect us, we can drink more," said
Tom. "If Dan Baxter really did mean well it's a great credit to him,
no matter how bad he is otherwise."
All sat down and talked in low tones. The night was now well advanced,
yet nobody felt like sleeping. Suddenly Dick leaped up, considerably
excited.
"I've got it, fellows! Maybe we can outwit them at their own game,"
he cried.
"How?" asked the others.
"Perhaps that water was drugged and was given to us to put us to
sleep. If we pretend to be overcome it may throw them off their guard,
and that will give us another chance to gain possession of the vessel.
What do you say if we lie down and pretend to be asleep when they
open the hatch?"
"All right, I am willing," answered Tom. "There is no excitement in
being cooped up in this hot place. Tell you what I'll do, to force
matters. You lie down and begin to snore and I'll pull the whistle.
Then, when they come, I'll demand to know what is wrong with you and
pitch over myself. Then we can see what happens next."
So it was arranged, and half an hour later Sam, Dick, and Hans
stretched out on the engineroom floor as if completely dead to the
world. Then Tom gave the whistle half a dozen sharp tugs. This brought
Todd, Pold, Jeffers, and Dan Baxter to the hatchway in a hurry.
"What's the row?" demanded Gasper Pold, looking down curiously.
"My brothers," came thickly from Tom, as he reeled around. "What did
you--you--do to them? My head--like--top! You--must--must--Oh!" And
then Tom sank down on a bench, slipped to the floor, and lay beside Sam.
"He's poisoned!" shrieked Dan Baxter, and his face grew as white as
a sheet.
"Shut up!" muttered Sack Todd. "The dose won't kill him."
"Reckon they are all laid out," was Gasper Pold's comment, as he
peered down the hatchway. "I'll go down and make sure." And he passed
down the iron ladder, pistol in hand.
"How about it?" came from the mate of the _Dogstar_.
"Stiff as corpses," was the brutal answer. "I tell you, that dope
did the business."
"Are any of them dead?" asked Dan Baxter, hoarsely.
"I don't think so," was the careless answer. "No, they are all
breathing," went on Pold.
Sack Todd came down, followed by the mate of the _Dogstar_, and all
gazed coldly at the four youths lying on the hard floor around the
machinery. Dan Baxter remained at the top of the ladder, shaking as
if with the palsy.
"How long do you calculate they'll remain in this condition?" asked
Todd, turning to Pold.
"Ten or twelve hours at least," was the answer. "And maybe they won't
get over it for twenty-four."
"Any bad effects?"
"Well, sometimes that dope paralyzes a man's tongue for six months
or a year."
"Phew! That's pretty rough."
"Once in a great while the paralysis doesn't go away at all."
"In that case, these boys will have it in for you,--if they ever get
their hands on you," said Sid Jeffers, with a wicked leer.
The men talked among themselves for several minutes and then agreed
to take the boys up on deck and place them in two of the staterooms
off the cabin.
"They'll have to have more air than here," said Gasper Pold. "Otherwise
they'll surely die on our hands."
Dan Baxter was called on to assist, and did so with his knees fairly
shaking together. He thought that our friends had surely drank of
the dosed water and were in a stupor next to death.
"And if they die, they'll say I was as guilty as the rest!" he groaned
to himself. "Oh, I wish I was out of this!"
It was no easy matter to get the three Rovers and Hans on deck and
to the staterooms. Here our friends were placed two on a berth, and,
for the time being, left to themselves.
"Boys, we have had a narrow escape," whispered Dick, when he at last
thought it safe to speak.
"That's the truth," came from Sam. "And we have Dan Baxter to thank
for it!" he added. "I can't understand that part of it."
"I think I can," answered Tom. "Baxter is bad enough, but he didn't
go in for poisoning us. I am glad to know he isn't quite so heartless
as that."
"Dem fellers ought to be all hung, ain't it!" was Hans' comment.
"The question is, What are we to do next?" asked Tom.
"That question is not so easily answered," returned his elder brother.
"I know what I should like to do."
"What, Dick?" asked Sam.
"I'd like to make all of the gang prisoners."
"Exactly!" exclaimed Tom, in a low voice. "But can it be done?"
"I don't know. For the present let us play 'possum and find out."
"Vot kind of a game vos dot possum?" asked Hans innocently. "I ton't
dink we got dime to play some games," he added, seriously.
"Dick means to lay low," explained Sam.
"Vot, lay under der peds?"
"No, keep quiet and watch out."
"Oh! All right, I done me dot kvick enough," said Hans, and fell back
on the berth and shut his eyes.
"You fellows keep quiet while I investigate," said the eldest Rover.
"It is so late some of the crowd may have gone to sleep. If so, we
may have a chance to capture the others first."
So it was arranged, and making certain that his pistol was still in
his pocket, Dick slid from the berth, tiptoed his way to the stateroom
door, and, opening it slowly and cautiously, peered out.
One look into the cabin of the _Mermaid_ told him the apartment was
empty. There were two more staterooms, connected, as were those the
boys were occupying. With a heart that beat rather violently, Dick
stepped to the door of one of these staterooms. From within came a
deep and regular snoring.
"Somebody is asleep in there," he mused. "Who can it be?"
With great care he peered into the room. On the berth rested one of
the sailors from the _Dogstar_ and on the floor rested the other,
both evidently much the worse for liquor.
The door to the second stateroom was wide open and Dick caught sight
of a form on the berth in there. It was Dan Baxter. The bully was
not asleep but was tossing about, as if in either mental or physical
distress. As Dick looked at him he suddenly started up, turned around,
and stared.
"Dick Rover!" he screamed. "Are you alive, or is it a--a ghost?"