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Title: The Sportman's Club Afloat

Author: Harry Castlemon

Release Date: December 20, 2019 [EBook #60984]

Language: English

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                                   THE
                            SPORTSMAN’S CLUB
                                 AFLOAT.

                           BY HARRY CASTLEMON,
           AUTHOR OF “THE GUNBOAT SERIES,” “GO AHEAD SERIES,”
                      “ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES,” ETC.

                             [Illustration]

                              PHILADELPHIA:
                            PORTER & COATES,
                               CINCINNATI:
                           R. W. CARROLL & CO.




FAMOUS CASTLEMON BOOKS.


=GUNBOAT SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 6 vols. 16mo. Cloth,
extra, black and gold.

    FRANK THE YOUNG NATURALIST.
    FRANK ON A GUNBOAT.
    FRANK IN THE WOODS.
    FRANK BEFORE VICKSBURG.
    FRANK ON THE LOWER MISSISSIPPI.
    FRANK ON THE PRAIRIE.

=ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 3 vols. 16mo.
Cloth, extra, black and gold.

    FRANK AMONG THE RANCHEROS.
    FRANK AT DON CARLOS’ RANCHO.
    FRANK IN THE MOUNTAINS.

=SPORTSMAN’S CLUB SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 3 vols. 16mo.
Cloth, extra, black and gold.

    THE SPORTSMAN’S CLUB IN THE SADDLE.
    THE SPORTSMAN’S CLUB AFLOAT.
    THE SPORTSMAN’S CLUB AMONG THE TRAPPERS.

=GO-AHEAD SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 3 vols. 16mo. Cloth,
extra, black and gold.

    TOM NEWCOMBE.
    GO-AHEAD.
    NO MOSS.

=FRANK NELSON SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 3 vols. 16mo.
Cloth, extra, black and gold.

    SNOWED UP.
    FRANK IN THE FORECASTLE.
    BOY TRADERS.

=BOY TRAPPER SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 3 vols. 16mo.
Cloth, extra, black and gold.

    THE BURIED TREASURE; OR, OLD JORDAN’S HAUNT.
    THE BOY TRAPPER; OR, HOW DAVE FILLED THE ORDER.
    THE MAIL-CARRIER.

=ROUGHING IT SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. Illustrated. 16mo. Cloth,
extra, black and gold.

    GEORGE IN CAMP.

_Other Volumes in Preparation._




       Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by
                          R. W. CARROLL & CO.,
       In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.




CONTENTS


                   CHAPTER I.

    On the Gulf again                  Page 5

                  CHAPTER II.

    A Surprise                             25

                  CHAPTER III.

    Outwitted                              45

                  CHAPTER IV.

    Fairly afloat                          66

                   CHAPTER V.

    The Deserters                          88

                  CHAPTER VI.

    A Chapter of Incidents                111

                  CHAPTER VII.

    Don Casper                            129

                 CHAPTER VIII.

    Chase rises to explain                148

                  CHAPTER IX.

    Wilson runs a race                    164

                   CHAPTER X.

    A Lucky Fall                          181

                  CHAPTER XI.

    “Sheep Ahoy!”                         198

                  CHAPTER XII.

    The Banner under fire                 214

                 CHAPTER XIII.

    The Spanish Frigate                   231

                  CHAPTER XIV.

    The Yacht Lookout                     254




THE SPORTSMAN’S CLUB AFLOAT.




CHAPTER I.

ON THE GULF AGAIN.


“I assure you, gentlemen, that you do not regret this mistake more than I
do. I would not have had it happen for anything.”

It was the captain of the revenue cutter who spoke. He, with Walter
Gaylord, Mr. Craven, Mr. Chase and the collector of the port, was
standing on the wharf, having just returned with his late prisoners from
the custom-house, whither the young captain of the Banner had been to
provide himself with clearance papers. The latter had narrated as much
of the history of Fred Craven’s adventures, which we have attempted to
describe in the first volume of this series, as he was acquainted with,
and the recital had thrown the revenue captain into a state of great
excitement. The yacht was anchored in the harbor, a short distance astern
of the cutter, and alongside the wharf lay the only tug of which the
village could boast, the John Basset, which Mr. Chase and Mr. Craven had
hired to carry them to Lost Island in pursuit of the smugglers.

“There must be some mistake about it,” continued the captain of the
cutter. “A boy captured by a gang of smugglers and carried to sea in a
dugout! I never heard of such a thing before. I know you gentlemen will
pardon me for what I have done, even though you may think me to have been
over-zealous in the discharge of my duty. Your yacht corresponds exactly
with the description given me of the smuggler.”

“You certainly made a great blunder,” said Mr. Craven, who was in very
bad humor; “and there is no knowing what it may cost us.”

“But you can make some amends for it by starting for Lost Island at
once,” said Mr. Chase. “You will find two of the smugglers there, and
perhaps you can compel them to tell you something of the vessel of which
you are in search. More than that, they have made a prisoner of my son,
and he knows what has become of Fred Craven.”

“I am at your service. I will sail again immediately, and I shall reach
the island about daylight. If you gentlemen with your tug arrive there
before I do and need assistance, wait until I come. Captain Gaylord, if
you will step into my gig I shall be happy to take you on board your
vessel. You may go home now, and these gentlemen and myself will attend
to those fellows out there on Lost Island. If we find them we shall
certainly capture them.”

“And when you do that, I shall not be far away,” replied Walter.

“Why, you are not going to venture out in this wind again with that
cockle-shell, are you?” asked the captain, in surprise.

“I am, sir. I built the Banner, and I know what she can do. She has
weathered the Gulf breeze once to-night, and she can do it again. I am
not going home until I see Fred Craven safe out of his trouble. In order
to find out where he is, I must have an interview with Henry Chase.”

Mr. Craven and Mr. Chase, who were impatient to start for Lost Island
again, walked off toward the tug, and Walter stepped down into the
captain’s gig and was carried on board the Banner. His feelings as he
sprang on the deck of his vessel were very different from those he had
experienced when he left her. The last time he clambered over her rail he
was a prisoner, guarded by armed men and charged with one of the highest
crimes known to the law. Now he was free again, the Banner was all his
own, and he was at liberty to go where he pleased.

“Mr. Butler, send all the cutter’s hands into the gig,” said the revenue
captain, as he sprang on board the yacht.

“Very good, sir,” replied the lieutenant. “Pass the word for all the
prize crew to muster on the quarter-deck.”

“Banner’s men, ahoy!” shouted Walter, thrusting his head down the
companion-way. “Up you come with a jump. Perk, get under way immediately.”

For a few seconds confusion reigned supreme on board the yacht. The
revenue men who had been lying about the deck came aft in a body; those
who had been guarding the prisoners in the cabin tumbled up the ladder,
closely followed by the boy crew, who, delighted to find themselves once
more at liberty, shouted and hurrahed until they were hoarse.

“All hands stand by the capstan!” yelled Perk.

“Never mind the anchor,” said Walter. “Get to sea at once.”

“Eugene, slip the chain,” shouted Perk. “Stand by the halliards fore and
aft.”

“Hold on a minute, captain,” exclaimed the master of the cutter, who had
been extremely polite and even cringing ever since he learned that the
boys who had been his prisoners were the sons of the wealthiest and most
influential men about Bellville. “I should like an opportunity to muster
my crew, if you please.”

“Can you not do that on board your own vessel?” asked Walter.

“I might under ordinary circumstances, but of late my men have been
seizing every opportunity to leave me, and I am obliged to watch them
very closely. They have somehow learned that a Cuban privateer, which has
escaped from New York, is lying off Havana waiting for a crew, and they
are deserting me by dozens. There may be some deserters stowed away about
this yacht, for all I know.”

“Never mind,” replied Walter, who was so impatient to get under way that
he could think of nothing else. “If there are, I will return them to you
when I meet you at Lost Island. Good-bye, captain, and if you see me on
the Gulf again don’t forget that I have papers now.”

By this time the Banner was fairly under sail. Perk saw that the revenue
men were still on board, and knew that they would have some difficulty
in getting into their boat when the yacht was scudding down the harbor
at the rate of eight knots an hour, but that made no difference to him.
His commander had ordered him to get under way, and he did it without
the loss of a moment. He slipped the anchor, hoisted the same sails the
Banner had carried when battling with the Gulf breeze three hours before,
and in a few seconds more was dragging the revenue gig through the water
at a faster rate than she had ever travelled before. Her crew tumbled
over the rail one after another, and when they were all in the boat Bab
cast off the painter, and the Banner sped on her way, leaving the gig
behind.

“What was the matter, Walter? did they really take us for smugglers?”
asked the Club in concert, as they gathered about the young captain.
“What did you tell them; and has anything new happened that you are going
to sea again in such a hurry?”

“Ask your questions one at a time and they will last longer,” replied
Walter; who then proceeded in a very few words to explain matters. The
captain of the cutter had really been stupid enough to believe that the
Banner was a smuggler, he said, and so certain was he of the fact that
he would listen to no explanation. Mr. Craven had told him the story
of the two smugglers who had taken a prisoner to Lost Island, but the
revenue commander would not believe a word of it, and persisted in his
determination to take his captives to the village. When they arrived
there and the collector of the port had been called up, of course the
matter was quickly settled, and then the captain appeared to be very
sorry for what he had done, and was as plausible and fawning as he
had before been insolent and overbearing. Pierre and his father would
certainly be captured now, for Mr. Chase and Mr. Craven had chartered the
John Bassett to carry them to Lost Island, and the revenue captain would
also sail at once and render all the assistance in his power.

“Humph!” exclaimed Eugene, when Walter finished his story, “We don’t
want any of his help, or the tug’s either. Crack on, Walter, and let’s
reach the island and have the work over before they get there.”

“That would be useless,” answered the cautious young captain. “The
Banner’s got as much as she can carry already; and besides we can’t
expect to compete with a tug or a vessel of the size of the cutter. If
we reach the island in time to see Chase rescued, I shall be satisfied.
If any of you are in want of sleep you may go below, and Bab and I will
manage the yacht.”

But none of the Club felt the need of rest just then. Things were getting
too exciting. With a couple of smugglers before them to be captured,
two swift rival pursuers behind, to say nothing of the gale and the
waves which tossed the staunch little Banner about like a nut-shell, and
the intense impatience and anxiety they felt to learn something of the
situation of the missing secretary—under circumstances like these sleep
was not to be thought of. They spent the next half hour in discussing
the exciting adventures that had befallen them since their encounter
with Bayard Bell and his crowd, and then Eugene, after sundry emphatic
injunctions from his brother to keep his weather eye open and mind what
he was about, took Perk’s place at the wheel, while the latter, who
always acted as ship’s cook in the absence of Sam the negro, went below
to prepare the eatables which Walter had provided before leaving home.
The baskets containing the provisions had been taken into the galley.
In the floor of this galley was a small hatchway leading into the hold
where the water-butts, fuel for the stove, tool-chests, ballast, and
extra rigging were stowed away; and when Perk approached the galley from
the cabin he was surprised to see that the hatchway was open, and that a
faint light, like that emitted by a match, was shining through it from
below.

The sight was a most unexpected one, and for an instant Perk stood
paralyzed with alarm. His face grew as pale as death, and his heart
seemed to stop beating. Who had been careless enough to open that hatch
and go into the hold with an uncovered light? Eugene of course—he was
always doing something he had no business to do—and he had set fire to
some of the combustible matter there. Perk had often heard Uncle Dick
tell how it felt to have one’s vessel burned under him, and shuddering
at the recital, had hoped most fervently that he might never know the
feeling by experience. But now he was in a fair way to learn all about
it. Already he imagined the Banner a charred and smoking wreck, and he
and his companions tossing about on the waves clinging to spars and
life-buoys. These thoughts passed through Perk’s mind in one second of
time; then recovering the use of his legs and his tongue, he sprang
forward and shouted out one word which rang through the cabin, and fell
with startling distinctness upon the ears of the watchful crew on deck.

“Fire!” yelled Perk, with all the power of his lungs.

That was all he said, but it was enough to strike terror to the heart
of every one of the boy sailors who heard it. Somebody else heard it
too—some persons who did not belong to the Banner, and who had no
business on board of her. Perk did not know it then, but he found it out
a moment afterwards when he entered the galley, for, just as he seized
the hatch, intending to close the opening that led into the hold and thus
shut out the draft, a grizzly head suddenly appeared from below, one
brawny hand holding a hatchet, was placed upon the combings, and the
other was raised to prevent the descent of the hatch.

If it is possible for a boy to see four things at once, to come to a
conclusion on four different points, to act, and to do it all in less
than half a second of time, Perk certainly performed the feat. He saw
that the man who so suddenly made his appearance in the hatchway was
dressed in the uniform of the revenue service; that he had a companion
in the hold; that the latter was in the act of taking an adze from the
tool-chest; and that he held in his hand a smoky lantern which gave out
the faint, flickering light that shone through the hatchway.

When the boy had noted these things, some scraps of the conversation he
had overheard between Walter and the revenue captain came into his mind.
These men were deserters from the cutter, and he had discovered them just
in time to prevent mischief. They were preparing to make an immediate
attack upon the Banner’s crew, and had provided themselves with weapons
to overcome any opposition they might meet. If they were allowed to come
on deck they would take the vessel out of the hands of her crew, and
shape her course toward Havana, where the Cuban privateer was supposed
to be lying. Perk did not object to the men joining the privateer if they
felt so inclined—that was the revenue captain’s business, and not his—but
he was determined that they should not assume control of the Banner, and
take her so far into the Gulf in such a gale if he could prevent it.

“Avast, there!” exclaimed the sailor, in a savage tone of voice, placing
his hand against the hatch to keep Perk from slamming it down on his
head. “We want to come up.”

“But I want you to stay down,” replied the boy; “and we’ll see who will
have his way.”

The sailor made an upward spring, and Perk flung down the hatchway at the
same moment, throwing all his weight upon it as he did so. The result was
a collision between the man’s head and the planks of which the hatchway
was composed, the head getting the worst of it. The deserter was knocked
over on the opposite side of the opening and caught and held as if he had
been in a vise, his breast being pressed against the combings, and the
sharp corner of the hatch, with Perk’s one hundred and forty pounds on
top of it, falling across his shoulders.

“Now just listen to me a minute, and I’ll tell you what’s a fact,” said
the boy, who, finding that the enemy was secured beyond all possibility
of escape, began to recover his usual coolness and courage; “I’ve got
you.”

“But you had better let me go mighty sudden,” replied the sailor,
struggling desperately to seize Perk over his shoulder. “Push up the
hatch, Tom,” he added, addressing his confederate below.

All these events, which we have been so long in narrating, occupied
scarcely a minute in taking place. Walter sprang toward the companion-way
the instant Perk’s wild cry fell upon his ears, and pale and breathless
burst into the cabin, followed by Bab and Wilson. When he opened the door
he discovered Perk in the position we have described. A single glance at
the uniform worn by the man whose head and shoulders were protruding from
the hatchway, was enough to explain everything.

“Now, here’s a go!” exclaimed Bab, in great amazement.

“Yes; and there’ll be a worse go than this if you don’t let me out,”
replied the prisoner, savagely. “Push up the hatch, Tom.”

“The revenue captain was right in his suspicions after all, wasn’t he?”
said Walter, as he and Wilson advanced and wrested the hatchet from the
sailor’s hand. “I don’t think that your attempt to reach Cuba will be
very successful, my friend.”

“That remains to be seen. Push up the hatch, Tom. If I once get on deck
I’ll make a scattering among these young sea monkeys. Push up the hatch,
I tell you.”

This was the very thing the man below had been trying to do from the
first, but without success. The hatchway was small, and was so nearly
filled by the body of the prisoner, who was a burly fellow, that his
companion in the hold had no chance to exert his strength. He could not
place his shoulders against the hatch, and there was no handspike in the
hold, or even a billet of wood strong enough to lift with. He breathed
hard and uttered a good many threats, but accomplished nothing.

“I wish now I had given that captain time to muster his men,” said
Walter. “This fellow is a deserter from the cutter, of course; but he
shall never go to Havana in our yacht. Bab, go on deck and bring down
three handspikes.”

Bab disappeared, and when he returned with the implements, Walter took
one and handed Wilson another.

“Now, Perk,” continued the young captain, “take a little of your weight
off the hatch and let that man go back into the hold. We’d rather have
him down there than up here.”

“I know it,” said Perk. “But just listen to me, and I’ll tell you what’s
a fact: Perhaps he won’t go back.”

“I think he will,” answered Walter, in a very significant tone of voice.
“He’d rather go back of his own free will than be knocked back. Try him
and see.”

Perk got off the hatch, and the sailor, after taking a look at the
handspikes that were flourished over his head, slid back into the hold
without uttering a word; while Bab, hardly waiting until his head was
below the combings, slammed down the hatch, threw the bar over it and
confined it with a padlock. This done, the four boys stood looking at one
another with blanched cheeks.

“Where’s the fire, Perk?” asked Walter.

“There is none, I am glad to say. The light I saw shining from the hold
came from a lantern that those fellows have somehow got into their
possession.”

“Well, I’d rather fight the deserters than take my chances with a fire if
it was once fairly started,” replied Walter, much relieved. “How many of
them are there?”

“Only two that I saw. But they can do a great deal of mischief if they
feel in the humor for it.”

“That is just what I was thinking of,” chimed in Bab. “You take it very
coolly, Walter. Don’t you know that if they get desperate they can set
fire to the yacht, or bore through the bottom and sink her?”

“I thought of all that before we drove that man back there; but what
else could we have done? If we had brought him up here to tie him, he
would have attacked us as soon as he touched the deck, and engaged our
attention until his companion could come to his assistance. Perk, you and
Wilson stay down here and guard that hatch. Call me if you hear anything.”

“I hear something now,” said Wilson.

“So do I,” exclaimed Perk. “I hear those fellows swearing and storming
about in the hold; but they won’t get out that way, I guess.”

Walter and Bab returned to the deck and found Eugene in a high state
of excitement, and impatient to hear all about the fire. He was much
relieved, although his excitement did not in the least abate, to learn
that the danger that had threatened the yacht was of an entirely
different character, and that by Perk’s prompt action it had been
averted, at least for the present. Of course he could not stay on deck
after so thrilling a scene had been enacted below. He gave the wheel into
his brother’s hands, and went down into the galley to see how things
looked there. He listened in great amazement to Perk’s account of the
affair, and placed his ear at the hatch in the hope of hearing something
that would tell him what the prisoners were about. But all was silent
below. The deserters had ceased their swearing and threatening, and were
no doubt trying to decide what they should do next.

The crew of the yacht were not nearly so confidant and jubilant as they
had been before this incident happened, and nothing more was said about
the lunch. The presence of two desperate characters on board their vessel
was enough to awaken the most serious apprehensions in their minds.
During the rest of the voyage they were on the alert to check any
attempt at escape on the part of the prisoners, and those on deck caught
up handspikes and rushed down into the cabin at every unusual sound. But
the journey was accomplished without any mishap, and finally the bluffs
on Lost Island began to loom up through the darkness. After sailing
around the island without discovering any signs of the smugglers, the
Banner came about, and running before the wind like a frightened deer,
held for the cove into which Chase and his captors had gone with the
pirogue a few hours before. The young captain, with his speaking-trumpet
in his hand, stood upon the rail, the halliards were manned fore and
aft, and the careful Bab sent to the wheel. These precautions were taken
because the Banner was now about to perform the most dangerous part of
her voyage to the island. The entrance to the cove was narrow, and the
cove itself extended but a short distance inland, so that if the yacht’s
speed were not checked at the proper moment, the force with which she was
driven by the gale, would send her high and dry upon the beach.

The little vessel flew along with the speed of an arrow, seemingly on the
point of dashing herself in pieces on the rocks, against which the surf
beat with a roar like that of a dozen cannon; but, under the skilful
management of her young captain, doubled the projecting point in safety,
and was earned on the top of a huge wave into the still waters of the
cove. Now was the critical moment, and had Walter been up and doing he
might have saved the Banner from the catastrophe which followed. But
he did not give an order, and it is more than likely that he would not
have been obeyed if he had. He and his crew stood rooted to the deck,
bewildered by the scene that burst upon their view. A bright fire was
roaring and crackling on the beach, and by the aid of the light it threw
out, every object in the cove could be distinguished. The first thing the
crew of the Banner noticed was a small schooner moored directly in their
path—the identical one they had seen loading at Bellville; the second, a
group of men, one of whom they recognised, standing on the beach; and the
third, a cave high up the bluff, in the mouth of which stood one of the
boys of whom they were in search, Henry Chase, whose face was white with
excitement and terror. He was throwing his arms wildly about his head,
and shouting at the top of his voice.

“Banner ahoy!” he yelled.

“Hallo!” replied Walter, as soon as he found his tongue.

“Get away from here!” shouted Chase. “Get away while you can. That vessel
is the smuggler, and Fred Craven is a prisoner on board of her.”

But it was too late for the yacht to retreat. Before Walter could open
his mouth she struck the smuggling vessel with a force sufficient to
knock all the boy crew off their feet, breaking the latter’s bowsprit
short off, and then swung around with her stern in the bushes, where she
remained wedged fast, with her sails shaking in the wind.




CHAPTER II.

A SURPRISE.


The last time we saw Henry Chase he was sitting in the mouth of “The
Kitchen”—that was the name given to the cave in which he had taken refuge
after destroying the pirogue—with his axe in his hand, waiting to see
what Coulte and Pierre, who had just disappeared down the gully, were
going to do next. He had been holding a parley with his captors, and
they, finding that he had fairly turned the tables on them, and that
he was not to be frightened into surrendering himself into their hands
again, had gone off to talk the matter over and decide upon some plan
to capture the boy in his stronghold. Now that their vessel was cut to
pieces, they had no means of leaving the island, and consequently they
were prisoners there as well as Chase. He had this slight advantage of
them, however: when the yacht arrived he would be set at liberty, while
they would in all probability be secured and sent off to jail, where they
belonged.

“I’ll pay them for interfering with me when I wasn’t troubling them,”
chuckled Chase, highly elated over the clever manner in which he had
outwitted his captors. “I think I have managed affairs pretty well. Now,
if the yacht would only come, I should be all right. It is to Walter’s
interest to assist me, if he only knew it; for I can tell him where Fred
Craven is. But I can safely leave all that to Wilson. He is a friend
worth having, and he will do all he can for me. What’s going on out
there, I wonder?”

The sound that had attracted the boy’s attention was a scrambling among
the bushes, accompanied by exclamations of anger and long-drawn whistles.
The noise came down to him from the narrow crevice which extended to the
top of the bluff, and from this Chase knew that Coulte and Pierre were
ascending the rocks on the outside, and that they were having rather a
difficult time of it. He wondered what they were going to do up there.
They could not come down into the cave through the crevice, for it was so
narrow that Fred Craven himself would have stuck fast in it. The boy took
his stand under the opening and listened. He heard the two men toiling
up the almost perpendicular sides, and knew when they reached the summit.
Then there was a sound of piling wood, followed by the concussion of
flint and steel; and presently a feeble flame, which gradually increased
in volume, shot up from the top of the bluff.

“That’s a signal,” thought Chase, with some uneasiness. “Who in the
world is abroad on the Gulf, on a night like this, that is likely to be
attracted by it? It must be the smuggling vessel, for I remember hearing
Mr. Bell say that he should start for Cuba this very night. I pity Fred
Craven, shut up in that dark hold, with his hands and feet tied. I’ve had
a little experience in that line to-night, and I know how it feels.”

Chase seated himself on the floor of the cave, under the crevice, rested
his head against the rocks, and set himself to watch the two men, whose
movements he could distinctly see as they passed back and forth before
the fire. In this position he went off into the land of dreams and
slept for an hour, at the end of which time he awoke with a start, and
a presentiment that some danger threatened him. He sprang to his feet,
catching up his axe and looking all around the cave; and as he did so,
a dark form, which had been stealthily creeping toward him, stopped and
stretched itself out flat on the rocks, just in time to escape his notice.

“Was it a dream?” muttered Chase, rubbing his eyes. “I thought some one
had placed a pole against the bluff and climbed into the cave; but of
course that couldn’t be, for Coulte and his son have no axe with which to
cut a pole.”

The boy once more glanced suspiciously about his hiding-place, which,
from some cause, seemed to be a great deal lighter now than it was when
he went to sleep, and hurrying to the mouth looked down into the gully
below. To his consternation, he found that the danger he had apprehended
in his dream was threatening him in reality. A pole had been placed
against the ledge at the entrance to the cave, and clinging to it was the
figure of a man, who had ascended almost to the top. It was Pierre. How
he had managed to possess himself of the pole was a question Chase asked
himself, but which he could not stop to answer. His enemy was too near
and time too precious for that.

“Hold on!” shouted Pierre, when he saw the boy swing his axe aloft.

“You had better hold on to something solid yourself,” replied Chase, “or
you will go to the bottom of the ravine. You are as near to me as I care
to have you come.”

The axe descended, true to its aim, and cutting into the pole at the
point where it touched the ledge severed it in twain, and sent Pierre
heels-over-head to the ground. When this had been done, and Chase’s
excitement had abated so that he could look about him, he found that he
had more than one enemy to contend with. He was astonished beyond measure
at what he saw, and he knew now why “The Kitchen” was not as dark as it
had been an hour before. The whole cove below him was brilliantly lighted
up by a fire which had been kindled on the beach, and the most prominent
object revealed to his gaze was a little schooner which was moored to the
trees. The sight of her recalled most vividly to his mind the adventure
of which he and Fred Craven had been the heroes. It was the Stella—the
smuggling vessel. Her crew were gathered in a group at the bottom of
the gully, and Chase’s attention had been so fully occupied with Pierre
that he had not seen them. As he ran his eye over the group he saw that
there was one man in it besides Pierre who was anything but a stranger
to him, and that was Mr. Bell, who stood a little apart from the others,
with his tarpaulin drawn down over his forehead, and his arms buried to
the elbows in the pockets of his pea-jacket. Remembering the uniform
kindness and courtesy with which he and Wilson had been treated by that
gentleman, while they were Bayard’s guests and sojourners under his roof
Chase was almost on the point of appealing to him for protection; but
checked himself when he recalled the scene that had transpired on board
the Stella, when he and Fred Craven were discovered in the hold.

“I’ll not ask favors of a smuggler—an outlaw,” thought Chase, tightening
his grasp on his trusty axe. “It would be of no use, for it was through
him that I was brought to this island.”

“Look here, young gentleman,” said a short, red-whiskered man, stepping
out from among his companions, after holding a short consultation with
Mr. Bell, “we want you.”

“I can easily believe that,” answered Chase. “I know too much to be
allowed to remain at large, don’t I? I don’t want you, however.”

“We’ve got business with you,” continued the red-whiskered man, who was
the commander of the Stella, “and you had better listen to reason before
we use force. Drop that axe and come down here.”

“I think I see myself doing it. I’d look nice, surrendering myself into
your hands, to be shut up in that dark hole with poor Fred Craven,
carried to Cuba and shipped off to Mexico, under a Spanish sea-captain,
wouldn’t I? There’s a good deal of reason in that, isn’t there now? I’ll
fight as long as I can swing this axe.”

“But that will do you no good,” replied the captain, “for you are
surrounded and can’t escape. Where is Coulte?” he added, in an impatient
undertone, to the men who stood about him.

“Surrounded!” thought Chase. He glanced quickly behind him, but could see
nothing except the darkness that filled the cave, and that was something
of which he was not afraid. “I’ll have friends here before long,” he
added, aloud, “and until they arrive, I can hold you all at bay. I will
knock down the poles as fast as you put them up.”

“Where _is_ Coulte, I wonder?” said the master of the smuggling vessel,
again. “Why isn’t he doing something? I could have captured him a dozen
times.”

These words reached the boy’s ear, and the significant, earnest tone in
which they were uttered, aroused his suspicions, and made him believe
that perhaps the old Frenchman was up to something that might interest
him. It might be that his enemies had discovered some secret passage-way
leading into his stronghold, and had sent Coulte around to attack him in
the rear. Alarmed at the thought, Chase no longer kept his back turned
toward the cave, but stood in such a position that he could watch the
farther end of “The Kitchen” and the men below at the same time.

A long silence followed the boy’s bold avowal of his determination to
stand his ground, during which time a whispered consultation was carried
on by Mr. Bell, Pierre, and the captain of the schooner. When it was
ended, the former led the way toward the beach, followed by all the
vessel’s company. Chase watched them until they disappeared among the
bushes that lined the banks of the gully, and when they came out again
and took their stand about the fire, he seated himself on the ledge at
the entrance of the cave, and waited with no little uneasiness to see
what they would do next.

“I know now what that fire on the bluff was for,” thought he. “It was
a signal to the smugglers, and they saw it and ran in here while I was
asleep. They came very near capturing me, too—in a minute more Pierre
would have been in the cave. I can’t expect to fight a whole ship’s
company, and of course I must give in, sooner or later; but I will hold
out as long as I can.”

Chase finished his soliloquy with an exclamation, and jumped to his feet
in great excitement. A thrill of hope shot through his breast when he saw
the Banner come suddenly into view from behind the point, and dart into
the cove; but it quickly gave away to a feeling of intense alarm. His
long-expected reinforcements had arrived at last, but would they be able
to render him the assistance he had hoped and longed for? Would they not
rather bring themselves into serious trouble by running directly into the
power of the smugglers? Forgetful of himself, and thinking only of the
welfare of Walter and his companions, Chase dropped his axe and began
shouting and waving his arms about his head to attract their attention.

“Get away from here!” he cried. “That vessel is the smuggler, and Fred
Craven is a prisoner on board of her.”

Walter heard the words of warning and so did all of his crew; but they
came too late. The yacht was already beyond control. When her captain
picked himself up from the deck where the shock of the collision had
thrown him, and looked around to see where he was, he found the Banner’s
fore-rigging foul of the wreck of the schooner’s bowsprit, and her stern
almost high and dry, and jammed in among the bushes and trees on the
bank. Escape from such a situation was simply impossible. He glanced at
the cave where he had seen Chase but he had disappeared; then he looked
at his crew, whose faces were white with alarm; and finally he turned his
attention to the smugglers who were gathered about the fire. He could
not discover anything in their personal appearance, or the expression
of their faces, calculated to allay the fears which Chase’s words had
aroused in his mind. They were a hard-looking lot—just such men as one
would expect to see engaged in such business.

“Now I’ll tell you what’s a fact,” whispered Perk, as the crew of the
Banner gathered about the captain on the quarter-deck; “did you hear
what Chase said? We know where Featherweight is now, don’t we?”

“Yes, and we shall probably see the inside of his prison in less than
five minutes,” observed Eugene. “Or else the smugglers will put us ashore
and destroy our yacht, so that we can’t leave the island until we are
taken off.”

“I don’t see what in the world keeps the tug and the revenue-cutter,”
said Walter, anxiously. “They ought to have beaten us here, and unless
they arrive very soon we shall be in serious trouble. What brought that
schooner to the island, any how?”

“That is easily accounted for,” returned Wilson, “Pierre is a member of
the gang, as you are aware, and his friends probably knew that he was
here, and stopped to take him off. Having brought their vessel into the
cove, of course they must stay here until the wind goes down.”

“Well, if they are going to do anything with us I wish they would be in a
hurry about it,” said Bab. “I don’t like to be kept in suspense.”

The young sailors once more directed their attention to the smugglers,
and told one another that they did not act much like men who made it a
point to secure everybody who knew anything of their secret. They did
not seem to be surprised at the yacht’s sudden appearance, but it was
easy enough to see that they were angry at the rough manner in which she
had treated their vessel. Her commander had shouted out several orders to
Walter as the Banner came dashing into the cove, but as the young captain
could not pay attention to both him and Chase at the same moment, the
orders had not been heard. When the little vessel swung around into the
bushes, the master of the schooner sprang upon the deck of his own craft,
followed by his crew.

“That beats all the lubberly handling of a yacht I ever saw in my life,
and I’ve seen a good deal of it,” said the red-whiskered captain,
angrily. “Do you want the whole Gulf to turn your vessel in?”

“You’re a lubber yourself,” retorted Walter, who, although he considered
himself a prisoner in hands of the smugglers, was not the one to listen
tamely to any imputation cast upon his seamanship. “I can handle a craft
of this size as well as anybody.”

“I don’t see it,” answered the master of the schooner. “My vessel is
larger than yours, and I brought her in here without smashing everything
in pieces.”

“That may be. But the way was clear, and you came in under entirely
different circumstances.”

“Well, if you will bear a hand over there we will clear away this wreck.
I want to go out again as soon as this wind goes down.”

Wondering why the captain of the smugglers did not tell them that they
were his prisoners, Walter and his crew went to work with the schooner’s
company, and by the aid of hatchets, handspikes, and a line made fast
to a tree on the bank, succeeded in getting the little vessels apart;
after which the Banner was hauled out into deep water and turned about
in readiness to sail out of the cove. Walter took care, however, to work
his vessel close in to the bank, in order to leave plenty of room for the
tug and the revenue cutter when they came in. How closely he watched the
entrance to the cove, and how impatiently he awaited their arrival!

While the crew of the schooner was engaged in repairing the wreck of
the bowsprit, Walter and his men were setting things to rights on board
the yacht, wondering exceedingly all the while. They did not understand
the matter at all. Pierre and Coulte had brought Chase to the island,
intending to leave him to starve, freeze, or be taken off as fate or luck
might decree, and all because he had learned something they did not want
him to know. Fred Craven was a prisoner on board the very vessel that
now lay alongside them, and that proved that he knew something about the
smugglers also. Now, if the band had taken two boys captive because they
had discovered their secret, and they did not think it safe to allow them
to be at liberty, what was the reason they did not make an effort to
secure the crew of the Banner? These were the points that Walter and his
men were turning over in their minds, and the questions they propounded
to one another, but not one of them could find an answer to them.

“Perhaps they think we might resist, and that we are too strong to be
successfully attacked,” said Eugene, at length.

“Hardly that, I imagine,” laughed Walter. “Five boys would not be a
mouthful for ten grown men.”

“I say, fellows,” exclaimed Bab, “what has become of Chase all of a
sudden?”

“That’s so!” cried all the crew in a breath, stopping their work and
looking up at the bluffs above them. “Where is he?”

“The first and last I saw of him he was standing in the mouth of ‘The
Kitchen,’” continued Bab. “Where could he have gone, and why doesn’t he
come back and talk to us? Was he still a prisoner, or had he succeeded in
escaping?”

“Well—I—declare, fellows,” whispered Eugene, in great excitement,
pointing to a gentleman dressed in broadcloth, who was lying beside the
fire with his hat over his eyes, as if fast asleep, “if that isn’t Mr.
Bell I never saw him before.”

The Banner’s crew gazed long and earnestly at the prostrate man (if they
had been a little nearer to him they would have seen that his eyes were
wide open, and that he was closely watching every move they made from
under the brim of his hat), and the whispered decision of each was that
it was Mr. Bell. They knew him, in spite of his pea-jacket and tarpaulin.
Was he a smuggler? He must be or else he would not have been there. He
must be their leader, too, for a man like Mr. Bell would never occupy a
subordinate position among those rough fellows. The young captain and
his crew were utterly confounded by this new discovery. The mysteries
surrounding them seemed to deepen every moment.

“What did I say, yesterday, when Walter finished reading that article in
the paper?” asked Perk, after a long pause. “Didn’t I tell you that if
we had got into a fight with Bayard and his crowd, we would have whipped
three of the relatives of the ringleader of the band?”

“Well, what’s to be done?” asked Eugene. “We don’t want to sit here
inactive, while Chase is up in that cave, and Fred Craven a prisoner on
board the schooner. One may be in need of help, the other certainly is,
and we ought to bestir ourselves. Suggest something, somebody.”

“Let us act as though we suspected nothing wrong, and go ashore and
make some inquiries of Mr. Bell concerning Chase and the pirogue,” said
Walter. “We’re here, we can’t get away as long as this gale continues,
and we might as well put a bold face on the matter.”

“That’s the idea. Shall somebody stay on board to keep an eye on the
deserters?”

“I hardly think it will be necessary. They’ll not be able to work their
way out of the hold before we return.”

“But the smugglers might take possession of the vessel.”

“If that is their intention, our presence or absence will make no
difference to them. They can take the yacht now as easily as they could
if we were ashore.”

Walter’s suggestion being approved by the crew, they sprang over the
rail, and walking around the cove—the Banner was moored at the bank
opposite the fire—came up to the place where Mr. Bell was lying. He
started up at the sound of their footsteps, and rubbing his eyes as if
just aroused from a sound sleep, said pleasantly:

“You young gentlemen must be very fond of yachting, to venture out on a
night like this. Did you come in here to get out of reach of the wind?”

“No, sir,” replied Walter. “We expected to find Henry Chase on the
island.”

“And he is somewhere about here, too,” exclaimed Wilson. “We saw him
standing in the mouth of ‘The Kitchen,’ not fifteen minutes ago.”

“The Kitchen!” echoed Mr. Bell, raising himself on his elbow and looking
up at the cave in question. “Why, how could he get up there, and we know
nothing about it? We’ve been here more than an hour.”

“Haven’t you seen him?” asked Walter.

“No.”

“But you must have heard him shouting to us when we came into the cove.”

“Why no, I did not,” replied Mr. Bell, with an air of surprise. “In the
first place, what object could he have in visiting the island, alone,
on a night like this? And in the next, how could he come here without a
boat?”

“There ought to be a boat somewhere about here,” said Walter, while his
companions looked wonderingly at one another, “because Pierre and Coulte
brought him over here in a pirogue.”

It now seemed Mr. Bell’s turn to be astonished. He looked hard at Walter,
as if trying to make up his mind whether or not he was really in earnest,
and then a sneering smile settled on his face; and stretching himself out
on his blanket again he pulled his hat over his eyes, remarking as he did
so:

“All I have to say is, that Chase was a blockhead to let them do it.”

“Now just listen to me a minute, Mr. Bell, and I’ll tell you what’s a
fact,” said Perk, earnestly. “He couldn’t help it, for he was tied hard
and fast.”

The gentleman lifted his hat from his eyes, gazed at Perk a moment,
smiled again, and said: “Humph!”

“I know it is so,” insisted Perk, “because I saw him and had hold of him.
I had hold of Coulte too; and if I get my hands on him again to-night, he
won’t escape so easily.”

“What object could the old Frenchman and his son have had in tying Chase
hand and foot, and taking him to sea in a dugout?”

“Their object was to get him out of the way,” said Walter. “Chase knows
that Coulte’s two sons belong to a gang of smugglers, and they wanted to
put him where he would have no opportunity to communicate his discovery
to anybody.”

“Smugglers!” repeated the gentleman, in a tone of voice that was
exceedingly aggravating. “Smugglers about Bellville? Humph.”

“Yes sir, smugglers,” answered Wilson, with a good deal of spirit. “And
we have evidence that you will perhaps put some faith in—the word of your
own son.”

“O, I am not disputing you, young gentlemen,” said Mr. Bell, settling his
hands under his head, and crossing his feet as if he were preparing to go
to sleep. “I simply say that your story looks to me rather unreasonable;
and I would not advise you to repeat it in the village for fear of
getting yourselves into trouble. I have not seen Pierre, or Coulte, or
Chase to-night. Perhaps the captain has, or some of his men, although it
is hardly probable. As I am somewhat wearied with my day’s work, I hope
you will allow me to go to sleep.”

“Certainly, sir,” said Walter. “Pardon us for disturbing you.”

So saying, the young commander of the Banner turned on his heel and
walked off, followed by his crew.




CHAPTER III.

OUTWITTED.


“Well,” continued Walter, after he and his companions had walked out of
earshot of Mr. Bell; “what do you think of that.”

“Let somebody else tell,” said Bab. “It bangs me completely.”

“Now I’ll tell you something,” observed Perk: “He is trying to humbug
us—I could see it in his eye. If there is a fellow among us who didn’t
see Henry Chase standing in the mouth of the cave, when we rounded the
point, and hear him shout to us that that schooner there is a smuggler,
and that Fred Craven is a prisoner on board of her, let him say so.”

Perk paused, and the Banner’s crew looked at one another, but no one
spoke. They had all seen Chase, and had heard and understood his words.

“That is proof enough that Chase is on the island,” said Walter, “for
it is impossible that five of us should have been so deceived. Now, if
_we_ heard and saw him, what’s the reason Mr. Bell didn’t? That pirogue
must be hidden about here somewhere. If you fellows will look around for
it, I will go back to the yacht, see how our deserters are getting on,
and bring a lantern and an axe. Then we’ll go up and give ‘The Kitchen’ a
thorough overhauling.”

Walter hurried off, and his crew began beating about through the bushes,
looking for the pirogue. They searched every inch of the ground they
passed over, peeping into hollow logs, and up into the branches of the
trees, and examining places in which one of the paddles of the canoe
could scarcely have been stowed away, but without success. There was
one place however, where they did not look, and that was _in the fire_,
beside which Mr. Bell lay. Had they thought of that, they might have
found something.

When Walter returned with the axe and the lighted lantern, the crew
reported the result of their search, and the young captain, disappointed
and more perplexed than ever, led the way toward “The Kitchen.” While
they were going up the gully, they stopped to cut a pole, with which to
ascend to the cave, and looked everywhere for signs of anybody having
passed along the path that night; but it was dark among the bushes, and
the light of the lantern revealed not a single foot-print. Arriving
at the bluff, they placed the pole against the ledge, and climbing up
one after the other, entered the cave, leaving Eugene at the mouth to
keep an eye on the yacht, and on the movements of the smugglers below.
But their search here was also fruitless. There was the wood which the
last visitors from the village had provided to cook their meals, the
dried leaves that had served them for a bed, and the remains of their
camp-fire; but that was all. The axe that had done Chase such good
service, his blankets, bacon, and everything else he had brought there,
as well as the boy himself, had disappeared.

Eugene, who was deeply interested in the movements of his companions, did
not perform the part of watchman very well. On two or three occasions he
left his post and entered the cave to assist in the search; and once when
he did this, Mr. Bell, who still kept his recumbent position by the fire,
made a sign with his hand, whereupon two men glided from the bushes that
lined the beach, and clambering quickly over the side of the smuggling
vessel, crept across the deck and dived into the hold. Eugene returned to
the mouth of the cave just as they went down the ladder, but did not see
them.

“Now then,” said Walter, when the cave had been thoroughly searched,
“some of you fellows who are good at unravelling mysteries, explain this.
What has become of Chase? Did he leave the cave of his own free will,
and if so, how did he get out? We found no pole by which he could have
descended, and consequently he must have hung by his hands from the ledge
and dropped to the ground. But he would not have done that for fear of
a sprained ankle. He surely did not allow any one to come up here and
take him out, for with a handful of these rocks he could have held the
cave against a dozen men. Besides, he would have shouted for help, and we
should have heard him.”

None of the crew had a word to say in regard to Chase’s mysterious
disappearance. They sighed deeply, shook their heads, and looked down at
the ground, thus indicating quite as plainly as they could have done by
words, that the matter was altogether too deep for their comprehension.
More bewildered than ever, they followed one another down the pole, and
retraced their steps toward the beach.

“What shall we do to pass away the time until the tug and cutter arrive?”
asked Perk. “I wish that schooner could find a tongue long enough to tell
us what she’s got stowed away in her hold.”

“If she could, and told you the truth, she would assure you that Fred
Craven is there,” said Wilson, confidently. “Of that I am satisfied. He’s
on some vessel, for Chase told me so while we were at Coulte’s cabin. If
this schooner is an honest merchantman, why did she come in here? There’s
nothing the matter with her that I can see. She didn’t come in to get
out of the wind, for she can certainly stand any sea that the Banner can
outride. Coulte and his sons belong to the smugglers, because I heard
Bayard say so. Chase told me that he was to be carried to the island in
a pirogue, and we met her as she came down the bayou. Now, put these few
things together, and to my mind they explain the character of this vessel
and the reason why she is here.”

“Go on,” said Eugene. “Put a few other things together, and see if you
can explain where Chase went in such a hurry.”

“That is beyond me quite. But the matter will be cleared up in a very few
minutes,” added Wilson, gleefully, “for here comes the cutter.”

As he spoke, the revenue vessel came swiftly around the point; and so
overjoyed were the boys to see her, that they swung their hats around
their heads and greeted her with cheers that awoke a thousand echoes
among the bluffs. Being better handled than the Banner was when she came
in, she glided between the two vessels lying in the cove, and running
her bowsprit among the bushes on the bank, came to a stand still without
even a jar. Her captain had evidently made preparations to perform any
work he might find to do without the loss of a moment; for no sooner had
the cutter swung round broadside to the bank, than a company of men with
small-arms tumbled over the side, followed by the second lieutenant, and
finally by the commander himself.

“Here we are again, captain,” said the latter, as Walter came up, “and
all ready for business. Bring on your smugglers.”

“There they are, sir,” answered Walter, pointing to the crew of the
schooner, who had once more congregated about the fire, “and there’s
their vessel.”

“That!” exclaimed the second lieutenant, opening his eyes in surprise.
“You’re mistaken, captain. That is the Stella—a trader from Bellville,
bound for Havana, with an assorted cargo—hams, bacon, flour, and the
like. I boarded her to-night and examined her papers myself. She no doubt
put in here on account of stress of weather.”

“Stress of weather!” repeated Walter, contemptuously. “That little yacht
has come from Bellville since midnight, and never shipped a bucket of
water; and the schooner is four times as large as she is. Stress of
weather, indeed!”

“Well, she is all right, any how.”

“I am sure, captain, that if you will take the trouble to look into
things a little, you will find that she is _not_ all right—begging the
lieutenant’s pardon for differing with him so decidedly,” said Walter.
“Some strange things have happened since we came here.”

“Well, captain, I will satisfy you on that point, seeing that you are so
positive,” replied the commander of the revenue vessel. “Mr. Harper,” he
added, turning to the lieutenant, “send your men on board the cutter and
come with me.”

A landsman would have seen no significance in this order, but Walter and
his crew did, and they were not at all pleased to hear it. The sending
of the men back on board the vessel was good evidence that the revenue
captain did not believe a word they said, and that he was going to “look
into things,” merely to satisfy what he thought to be a boyish curiosity.
It is not likely that he would have done even this much, had he not been
aware that the young sailors had influential friends on shore who might
have him called to account for any neglect of duty. Walter’s disgust and
indignation increased as they approached the fire. The men composing the
crew of the smuggling vessel stepped aside to allow them to pass, and Mr.
Bell advanced with outstretched hand, to greet the revenue captain.

“Why, how is this?” exclaimed the latter, accepting the proffered hand
and shaking it heartily. “I did not expect to find you here, Mr. Bell.
Ah! Captain Conway, good morning to you,” he added, addressing the
red-whiskered master of the schooner. “Captain Gaylord, there is no
necessity of carrying this thing any farther. The presence of these two
gentlemen, with both of whom I am well acquainted, is as good evidence as
I want that the schooner is not a smuggler.”

“A smuggler!” repeated the master of the Stella.

“Why, what is the matter?” asked Mr. Bell, opening his eyes in surprise,
and looking first at Walter, and then at the revenue captain, while the
crew of the schooner crowded up to hear what was going on.

“Why the truth is, that this young gentleman has got some queer ideas
into his head concerning your vessel. He thinks she is the smuggler of
which I have been so long in search.”

“And I have the best of reasons for thinking so,” said Walter; not in the
least terrified or abashed by the angry glances that were directed toward
him from all sides. “In the first place, does she not correspond with the
description you have in your possession?”

“I confess that she does,” replied the revenue captain, running his eye
over the schooner from cross-trees to water-line.

“She answers the description much better than the yacht, does she not?”

“Yes. But then she has papers, which my lieutenant has examined, and I
know these two gentlemen. You had no papers, and I was not acquainted
with a single man on board your vessel.”

“A smuggler!” repeated the red-whiskered captain, angrily; “I don’t
believe there’s such a thing in the Gulf.”

“I am inclined to agree with you,” answered the revenue commander. “I
have looked everywhere, without finding one.”

“I own the cargo with which this vessel is loaded,” said Mr. Bell,
producing his pocket-book, and handing some papers to the revenue
captain, who returned them without looking at them, “and there are the
receipts of the merchants from whom I purchased it. I am a passenger on
her because I believe that, by going to Cuba, I can dispose of the cargo
to much better advantage than I could sell it through agents. That is why
_I_ am here.”

“And the schooner is heavily loaded, and I couldn’t make the run without
straining her,” said the master of the Stella. “Having got into the cove
I must wait until the wind dies away before I can go out. That’s why _I_
am here.”

The commander of the cutter listened with an air which said very plainly,
that this was all unnecessary—that he had made up his mind and it could
not be changed—and then turned to Walter as if to ask what he had to say
in reply.

“What these men have said may be true and it may not,” declared the young
captain, boldly. “The way to ascertain is to search the schooner. There
are some articles on board of her that are not down in her bills of
lading.”

“And if there are it is no business of mine,” returned the commander of
the cutter.

“It isn’t!” exclaimed Walter in great amazement. “Then I’d like to know
just how far a revenue officer’s business extends. Haven’t you authority
to search any vessel you suspect?”

“Certainly I have; but I don’t suspect this schooner. And, even if I
did, I would not search her now, because she is outward bound. If she
has contraband articles on board, the Cuban revenue officers may look to
it, for I will not. All I have to do is to prevent, as far as lies in my
power, articles from being smuggled _into_ the United States; I don’t
care a snap what goes _out_.”

“But you ought to care. There is a boy on board that schooner, held as a
prisoner.”

“Why is he held as a prisoner?”

“Because he knows something about the smugglers, and they are afraid to
allow him his liberty.”

“Humph!” exclaimed Mr. Bell.

“Every word of that is false,” cried the master of the Stella, who seemed
to be almost beside himself with fury. “It is a villainous attempt to
injure me and my vessel.”

“Keep your temper, captain,” said the commander of the cutter. “I want to
see if this young man knows what he is talking about. Where are those two
smugglers who brought that boy over here in a canoe?”

“I don’t know, sir. We have searched the island and can find no trace of
them.”

“That is a pretty good sign that they are not here. Where is the boat
they came in?”

“I don’t know that either. It is also missing.”

“Where is the boy they brought with them?”

“When the Banner rounded the point he was standing in the mouth of that
cave,” replied Walter, pointing to the Kitchen, “and shouted to us to get
away from here while we could—that this schooner is a smuggler and that
Fred Craven is a prisoner on board of her.”

“Well, where is the boy now?”

“I can’t tell you, sir.”

“Isn’t he on the island?”

“We can find no signs of him.”

“Then he hasn’t been here to-night.”

“He certainly has,” replied Walter, “for we saw him and heard him too.”

“Who did?”

“Every one of the crew of the Banner.”

“Did anybody else? Did you, Mr. Bell? Or you, Captain Conway? Or any of
your men?”

The persons appealed to answered with a most decided negative. They
had seen no boy in the cave, heard no voice, and knew nothing about a
prisoner or a pirogue. There was one thing they did know, however, and
that was that no dugout that was ever built could traverse forty miles of
the Gulf in such a sea as that which was running last night.

“Well, young man,” said the revenue officer, addressing the captain of
the yacht somewhat sternly, “I am sure I don’t know what to think of you.”

“You are at liberty to think what you please, sir,” replied Walter, with
spirit. “I have told you the truth, if you don’t believe it search that
schooner.”

“You have failed to give me any reason why I should do so. Your story
is perfectly ridiculous. You say that a couple of desperate smugglers
captured an acquaintance of yours and put him in a canoe; that you met
them in a bayou on the main shore and had a fight with them; that they
eluded you and came out into the Gulf in a gale that no small boat in
the world could stand, and brought their prisoner to this island. When I
expressed a reasonable doubt of the story, you offered, if I would come
here with you, to substantiate every word of it. Now I am here, and you
can not produce a scrap of evidence to prove that you are not trying to
make game of me. The men, the boy, and the boat they came in, are not to
be found. I wouldn’t advise you to repeat a trick of this kind or you may
learn to your cost that it is a serious matter to trifle with a United
States officer when in the discharge of his duty. Mr. Bell, as the wind
has now subsided so that I can go out, I wish you good-by and a pleasant
voyage.”

“One moment, captain,” said Walter, as the revenue commander was about to
move off; “perhaps you will think I am trifling with you, if I tell you
that I have some deserters from your vessel on board my yacht.”

“Have you? I am glad to hear it. I have missed them, and I know who they
are. I thought they had gone ashore at Bellville, and it was by stopping
to look for them that I lost so much time. Haul your yacht alongside the
cutter and put them aboard.”

“I am going to set them at liberty right where the yacht lies,” replied
Walter, indignant at the manner in which the revenue captain had treated
him, and at the insolent tone of voice in which the order was issued;
“and you can stand by to take charge of them or not, just as you please.”

“How many of them are there?”

“Two.”

“Only two? Then the others must have gone ashore at Bellville, after
all,” added the captain, turning to his second lieutenant. “I wish they
had taken your vessel out of your hands and run away with it. You need
bringing down a peg or two, worse than any boy I ever saw.”

Walter, without stopping to reply, turned on his heel, and walked around
the cove to the place where the Banner lay, followed by his crew, who
gave vent to their astonishment and indignation in no measured terms.
The deserters were released at once. When informed that their vessel was
close at hand, and that their captain was expecting them, they ascended
to the deck, looking very much disappointed and crestfallen, and stood in
the waist until the cutter came alongside and took them off. They were
both powerful men, and the boy-tars were glad indeed that they had been
discovered before they gained a footing on deck. If Walter had been in
his right mind he would have examined the hold after those two men left
it; but he was so bewildered by the strange events that had transpired
since he came into the cove, that he could think of nothing else.

While the crew of the yacht were liberating the deserters, the smuggling
vessel filled away for the Gulf—her captain springing upon the rail long
enough to shake his fist at Walter—and as soon as she was fairly out of
the cove, the cutter followed, and shaped her course toward Bellville.

The boys watched the movements of the two vessels in silence, and when
they had passed behind the point out of sight, turned with one accord
to Walter, who was thoughtfully pacing his quarter-deck, with his hands
behind his back.

“Eugene,” said the young captain, at length, “did you keep an eye on the
smuggler all the time that we were in The Kitchen?”

“O, yes,” replied Eugene, confidently. “I saw everything that happened on
her deck.” And he thought he did, but he forgot that he had two or three
times left his post.

“You didn’t see Chase taken on board the schooner, did you?”

“I certainly did not. If I had, I should have said something about it.”

“Then there is only one explanation to this mystery: Chase was somehow
spirited out of the cave and hidden on the island. We will make one more
attempt to find him. Three of us will go ashore and thoroughly search
these woods and cliffs, and the others stay and watch the yacht.”

Walter, Perk, and Bab, after arming themselves with handspikes, sprang
ashore and bent their steps toward The Kitchen to begin their search for
the missing Chase. As before, no signs of him were found in the cave,
although every nook and crevice large enough to conceal a squirrel, was
peeped into. Next the gully received a thorough examination, and finally
they came to the bushes on the side of the bluff. A suspicious-looking
pile of leaves under a rock attracted Bab’s attention, and he thrust
his handspike into it. The weapon came in contact with something which
struggled feebly, and uttered a smothered, groaning sound, which made Bab
start back in astonishment.

“What have you there?” asked Walter, from the foot of the bluff.

“I don’t know, unless it is a varmint of some kind that has taken up his
winter quarters here. Come up, and let’s punch him out.”

Perk and Walter clambered up the bluff to the ledge, and while one
raised his handspike in readiness to deal the “varmint” a death-blow
the instant he showed himself, the others cautiously pushed aside the
leaves, and presently disclosed to view—not a wild animal, but a pair of
heavy boots, the heels of which were armed with small silver spurs. One
look at them was enough. With a common impulse the three boys dropped
their handspikes, and pulling away the leaves with frantic haste, soon
dragged into sight the missing boy, securely bound and gagged, and
nearly suffocated. To give him the free use of his hands and feet, and
remove the stick that was tied between his teeth, was but the work of a
moment. When this had been done, Chase slowly raised himself to a sitting
posture, gasping for breath, and looking altogether pretty well used up.

“You don’t know how grateful I am to you, fellows,” said he, at last,
speaking in a hoarse whisper. “I’ve had a hard time of it during the half
hour I have been stowed away in that hole, and I never expected to see
daylight again.”

“Now I’ll tell you what’s a fact,” said Perk. “You never would have got
out of there alive if Walter hadn’t been thoughtful enough to search the
island before going home. Now let me ask you something: Where did you go
in such a hurry, after shouting to us from the mouth of The Kitchen?”

“I can’t talk much, fellows, till I get something to moisten my tongue,”
was the almost indistinct reply. “If you will help me to the spring, I
will tell you all about it. Where are the smugglers?”

“Don’t know. We haven’t seen any,” said Walter.

“You haven’t?” whispered Chase, in great amazement. “Didn’t you see
those men who were standing on the beach when you came in?”

“Yes; but they are not smugglers. They’ve got clearance papers, and the
captain of the cutter says he knows they are all right. Besides, one of
them was Mr. Bell.”

“No difference; I know they are smugglers by their own confession, and
that Mr. Bell is the leader of them. O, it’s a fact, fellows; I know what
I am talking about. Where are they now?”

“Gone.”

“_Gone!_ Where?”

“To Havana, most likely. That’s the port their vessel cleared for.”

“And did you rescue Fred Craven? I know you didn’t by your looks. Well,
you’ll have to find that schooner again if you want to see him, for he’s
on board of her, and—wait till I rest awhile, fellows, and get a drink of
water.”

Seeing that it was with the greatest difficulty that Chase could speak,
Perk and Walter lifted him to his feet, and assisted him to walk down the
gully, while Bab followed after, carrying the handspikes on his shoulder.
Arriving at the spring, Chase lay down beside it and took a large and
hearty drink, now and then pausing to testify to the satisfaction he
felt by shaking his head, and uttering long-drawn sighs. After quenching
his thirst, and taking a few turns up and down the path to stretch his
arms and legs, he felt better.




CHAPTER IV.

FAIRLY AFLOAT.


“The first thing, fellows,” said Chase, “is to tell you that I am
heartily sorry I have treated you so shabbily.”

“Now, please don’t say a word about that,” interrupted Walter, kindly.
“We don’t think hard of you for anything you have done, and besides we
have more important matters to talk about.”

“I know how ready you are, Walter Gaylord, to overlook an injury that is
done you—you and the rest of the Club—and that is just what makes me feel
so mean,” continued Chase, earnestly. “I was not ashamed to wrong you,
and I ought not to be ashamed to ask your forgiveness. I made up my mind
yesterday, while we were disputing about those panther scalps (to which
we had not the smallest shadow of a right, as we knew very well), to give
Fred Craven a good thumping, if I was man enough to do it, for beating me
in the race for Vice-Commodore; and the next time I met him he paid me
for it in a way I did not expect. He tried to assist me, and got himself
into a terrible scrape by it.”

“That is just what we want to hear about,” said Bab, “and you are the
only one who can enlighten us. But Eugene and Wilson would like to listen
to the story also; and if you can walk so far, I suggest that we go on
board the yacht.”

“What do you suppose has become of Coulte and Pierre?” asked Walter. “Are
they still on the island?”

“No, indeed,” replied Chase. “If the rest of the smugglers are gone, of
course they went with them.”

After Chase had taken another drink from the spring, he accompanied his
deliverers down the gully. The watch on board the yacht discovered them
as they came upon the beach, and pulling off their hats, greeted them
with three hearty cheers. When they reached the vessel, Wilson testified
to the joy he felt at meeting his long-lost friend once more, by seizing
him by the arms and dragging him bodily over the rail.

“One moment, fellows!” exclaimed Walter, and his voice arrested
the talking and confusion at once. “Chase, are you positive that
Featherweight is a prisoner on board that schooner?”

“I am; and I know he will stay there until he reaches Havana, unless
something turns up in his favor.”

“Then we’ve not an instant to waste in talking,” said the young captain.
“We must keep that schooner in sight, if it is within the bounds of
possibility. Get under way, Perk.”

“Hurrah!” shouted Eugene, forgetting in the excitement of the moment the
object for which their cruise was about to be undertaken. “Here’s for a
sail clear to Cuba.”

“Now, just listen to me a minute and I’ll tell you what’s a fact,” said
Perk. “One reason why I fought so hard against those deserters was,
because I was afraid that if they got control of the vessel they would
take us out to sea; and now we are going out of our own free will.”

“And with not a man on board;” chimed in Bab, “nobody to depend upon
but ourselves. This will be something to talk about when we get back to
Bellville, won’t it?”

The crew worked with a will, and in a very few minutes the Banner was
once more breasting the waves of the Gulf, her prow being turned toward
the West Indies. As soon as she was fairly out of the cove, a half a
dozen pairs of eyes were anxiously directed toward the southern horizon,
and there, about three miles distant, was the Stella, scudding along
under all the canvas she could carry. The gaze of the young sailors was
then directed toward the Louisiana shore; but in that direction not a
craft of any kind was in sight, except the revenue cutter, and she was
leaving them behind every moment. Exclamations of wonder arose on all
sides, and every boy turned to Walter, as if he could tell them all about
it, and wanted to know what was the reason the tug had not arrived.

“I don’t understood it any better than you do, fellows,” was the reply.
“She ought to have reached the island in advance of us. And I don’t
see why the Lookout hasn’t put in an appearance. If father and Uncle
Dick reached home last night, they’ve had plenty of time to come to our
assistance. It would do me good to see her come up and overhaul that
schooner.”

“Isn’t that a cutter, off there?” asked Chase, who had been attentively
regarding the revenue vessel through Walter’s glass. “Let’s signal to
her. She’ll help us.”

“Humph! She wouldn’t pay the least attention to us; we’ve tried her. The
captain wouldn’t believe a word we said to him.”

It was now about nine o’clock in the morning, and a cold, dismal
morning it was, too. The gale of the night before had subsided into a
capital sailing wind, but there was considerable sea running, and a
suspicious-looking bank of clouds off to windward, which attracted the
attention of the yacht’s company the moment they rounded the point. The
crew looked at Walter, and he looked first at the sky and clouds and
then at the schooner. He had been on the Gulf often enough to know that
it would not be many hours before the sea-going qualities of his little
vessel, the nerve of her crew, and the skill on which he prided himself,
would be put to a severer test than they had yet experienced, and for a
moment he hesitated. But it was only for a moment. The remembrance of
the events that had just transpired in the cove, the dangers with which
Fred Craven was surrounded, and the determination he had more than once
expressed to stand by him until he was rescued—all these things came
into his mind, and his course was quickly decided upon. Although he said
nothing, his crew knew what he was thinking about, and they saw by the
expression which settled on his face that there was to be no backing out,
no matter what happened.

“I was _dreadfully_ afraid you were going to turn back, Walter,” said
Eugene, drawing a long breath of relief.

“I would have opposed such a proceeding as long as I had breath to speak
or could think of a word to utter,” said Perk. “Featherweight’s salvation
depends upon us entirely, now that the tug has failed to arrive and the
cutter has gone back on us.”

“But, fellows, we are about to undertake a bigger job than some of you
have bargained for, perhaps,” said Bab. “Leaving the storm out of the
question, there is the matter of provisions. We have eaten nothing since
yesterday at breakfast, and the lunch we brought on board last night will
not make more than one hearty meal for six of us. We shall all have good
appetites by the time we reach Havana, I tell you.”

“I can see a way out of that difficulty,” replied Walter. “We will soon
be in the track of vessels bound to and from the Balize, and if we fall
in with one of those little New Orleans traders, we will speak her and
purchase what we want. I don’t suppose any of us are overburdened with
cash—I am not—but if we can raise ten or fifteen dollars, a trader will
stop for that.”

“I will pass around the hat and see how much we can scrape together,”
said Eugene, “and while I am doing that, suppose we listen to what Chase
has to say for himself.”

[Illustration: THE CLUB AFLOAT.]

The young sailors moved nearer to the boy at the wheel so that he might
have the benefit of the story, and while they were counting out their
small stock of change and placing it in Eugene’s hands, Chase began
the account of his adventures. He went back to the time of the quarrel
which Bayard Bell and his cousins had raised with himself and Wilson,
told of the plan he and his companion had decided upon to warn Walter
of his danger, and described how it was defeated by the smugglers. This
much the Club had already heard from Wilson; but now Chase came to
something of which they had not heard, and that was the incidents that
transpired on the smuggling vessel. Walter and his companions listened in
genuine amazement as Chase went on to describe the interview he had held
with Bayard and his cousins (he laughed heartily at the surprise and
indignation they had exhibited when they found him in the locker instead
of Walter, although he had thought it anything but a laughing matter at
the time), and to relate what happened after Fred Craven arrived. At this
stage of his story Chase was often interrupted by exclamations of anger;
and especially were the crew vehement in their expressions of wrath, when
they learned that Featherweight’s trials would by no means be ended when
he reached Havana—that he was to be shipped as a foremast hand on board
a Spanish vessel and sent off to Mexico. This was all that was needed to
arouse the fiercest indignation against Mr. Bell. The thought that a boy
like Fred Craven was to be forced into a forecastle, to be tyrannized
over by some brute of a mate, ordered about in language that he could not
understand, and perhaps knocked down with a belaying-pin or beaten with a
rope’s end, because he did not know what was required of him—this was too
much; and Eugene in his excitement declared that if Walter would crack on
and lay the yacht alongside the schooner, they would board her, engage in
a hand-to-hand fight with the smugglers, and rescue the secretary at all
hazards. Had the young captain put this reckless proposition to a vote
it would have been carried without a dissenting voice.

When the confusion had somewhat abated Chase went on with his story,
and finally came to another event of which the Club had heard the
particulars—the siege in Coulte’s house. He described the sail down the
bayou, the attempted rescue by the Club, the voyage to the island during
the gale, the destruction of the pirogue, and his escape and retreat
to The Kitchen. His listeners became more attentive than ever when he
reached this point, and his mysterious manner increased their impatience
to hear how he could have been spirited out of the cave without being
seen by any one.

“It was a surprise to me,” said Chase, “but it was done as easily as
falling off a log. After I fell asleep the Stella, seeing the signal
which Pierre and Coulte had lighted on the top of the bluff, came into
the cove. I awoke just in time to keep Pierre from stealing a march
upon me, but too late to prevent the entrance of Coulte. The old fellow
must have come in just before I opened my eyes, and he was in the cave
close behind me all the time I was talking to the smugglers; but he kept
himself out of sight, thinking, no doubt, that it would not be a safe
piece of business to attack me as long as I held my axe in my hand. The
captain of the Stella told me that I was surrounded, and on two different
occasions asked in a tone of voice loud enough for me to hear: ‘Where is
Coulte, and why don’t he bestir himself?’ This made me believe that there
was something amiss, and I stood in such a position that I could keep an
eye on the interior of the cave and watch the men below at the same time,
thus giving Coulte no opportunity to take me at disadvantage. But when I
saw the Banner come in, I forgot everything in the fear that if you did
not immediately turn about and leave the cove, you would all be captured.
Intent upon warning you I threw down my axe and shouted to attract your
attention. This was just what the old Frenchman was waiting for. No
sooner had the words I shouted out to you left my lips, than he jumped up
and seized me; and before I could say ‘hard a starboard’ I was helpless,
being bound and gagged. I had no idea the old fellow possessed so much
muscle and activity. He handled me as if I had been an infant.”

“But how did he ever get you down from the cave without being seen by
some of us?” asked Eugene.

“O, he had opportunities enough,” said Bab—“while we were getting our
vessel free from the schooner and out of the bushes for instance.”

“Or while we were talking with Mr. Bell,” said Wilson.

“He might have done it while we were looking for the pirogue, or at any
time within ten minutes after we entered the cove,” remarked Walter.
“I for one was so much astonished at what I saw and heard when we came
around the point, that, after Chase ceased speaking to us, I never
thought of him again until we had got our vessel moored to the bank.”

“I can’t tell _when_ it was done, fellows,” continued Chase, “but I
know it _was_ done. As soon as Coulte had secured me, he looked out of
the cave, waved his hand once or twice, and then began throwing out the
articles he had given me for an outfit. Perhaps he thought you might
look in ‘The Kitchen’ for me before you left the island, and he didn’t
think it best to leave any traces of me there. In a few minutes Pierre
came up with a rope over his shoulders. This they made fast under my
arms, and watching their opportunity, when your attention was engaged
with something else, they lowered me into the gully. They then followed
me down the pole by which Pierre had come up, and hid me away under the
rocks where you found me.”

And Chase might have added that after they had disposed of him, they went
on board the smuggling vessel and concealed themselves in the hold until
she was safe out of the cove. But this was something of which he had no
positive evidence. In a few days, however, the crew met some one who told
them all about it, and then Eugene, to his great surprise, learned that
if he had faithfully performed the part Walter had assigned him, he might
have been able to make a great change in the fortunes of Fred Craven.
He could then have revealed to the revenue captain the whereabouts of
the men who had captured Chase and brought him to the island, and that
gentleman might have been induced to look into the matter.

When Chase finished his story, and the Club had questioned him to their
satisfaction, he expressed a desire to hear what had happened to them
since they last met. Eugene spoke for his companions, and it is certain
that there was not another member of the Club who could have described
their adventures in more glowing language, or shown up the obstinacy and
stupidity of the revenue captain, in a more damaging light. Eugene said
he could not tell what had become of the remains of the pirogue, or tell
how Coulte and Pierre had left the island; but he made everything else
clear to Chase, who, when the story was finished, was as indignant as any
of the Club. The incidents of the interview with Mr. Bell were thoroughly
discussed, and the conclusion arrived at was, that they had been very
nicely outwitted; that the smugglers had played their part to perfection;
and that the revenue captain was totally unfit for the position he held.

During the next hour nothing worthy of record transpired on board the
yacht. Walter kept as much sail on her as she could carry, and although
she did splendidly, as the heaving of the log proved, she moved much too
slowly to suit her impatient crew. Directly in advance, apparently no
nearer and no farther away than when the pursuit began, was the smuggling
vessel; and in the west was that angry-looking cloud, whose approach the
boy-sailors awaited with no little uneasiness.

Having had their talk out, Fred Craven’s mysterious disappearance having
been fully explained, and knowing that nothing could be done to assist
him until the schooner was overtaken and help obtained from some source,
the crew of the Banner began to busy themselves about matters that
demanded their immediate attention, with a view to making their voyage
across the Gulf as safe and agreeable as possible. The first thing
to be done was to put Chase and Wilson at their ease. Now that their
excitement had somewhat worn away, these young gentlemen began to look
upon themselves as interlopers, and to wish that they were anywhere but
on board the yacht. Their desire to assist Featherweight was as strong
as ever, but remembering all that had passed, and judging the Club by
themselves, they believed that their absence would have suited Walter
and his friends quite as well as their company. Nothing had been done,
a word said, or a look given to make them think so, but the manner in
which they conducted themselves showed plainly enough that such was
their impression. They took no part in the conversation now, answered
the questions that were asked them only in monosyllables, and exhibited
a desire to get away from the crew and keep by themselves. The Club saw
and understood it all, and tried hard to make them believe that all old
differences had been forgotten, and that their offers of friendship were
sincere. When lunch was served up—the last crumb the baskets contained
was eaten, for Walter said that one square meal would do them more good
than two or three scanty ones—the Club made them talk by asking them
all sorts of questions, and requesting their advice as to their future
operations; and Eugene even went so far as to offer Wilson the bow-oar
of the Spray to pull in the next regatta—a position which he regarded as
a post of honor, and which, under ordinary circumstances, he would have
been loth to surrender to his best friend. Wilson declined, but Eugene
insisted, little dreaming that when the next regatta came off, the Spray
would be locked up in the boat-house and covered with dust, while he and
the rest of her gallant crew would be thousands of miles away.

By the time lunch had been disposed of, the Club, by their united
efforts, had succeeded in dispelling all doubts from the minds of their
late enemies, and harmony and good feeling began to prevail. While
the dishes were being packed away in the baskets, Wilson discovered a
sail which he pointed out to Walter, who, with his glass in his hand,
ascended to the cross-trees. After a few minutes’ examination of the
stranger, he came down again, and the course of the Banner was altered so
as to intercept the approaching vessel. At the end of an hour she was in
plain sight, and proved to be a schooner about the size of the Stella—a
coaster, probably. In thirty minutes more the two vessels were hove-to
within speaking distance of each other; Walter, with his trumpet in his
hand was perched upon the yacht’s rail, and the master of the schooner
stood with one hand grasping the shrouds and the other behind his ear,
waiting to hear what was said to him.

“Schooner ahoy!” shouted Walter.

“Ay! ay! sir!” was the answer.

“I have no provisions; can you spare me some?” The captain of the
schooner, after gazing up at the clouds and down at the water, asked:
“How much do you want?”

“How much money did you raise, Eugene?” asked the young commander,
turning to his brother.

“Thirty dollars. And that’s every cent there is on board the yacht.”

“About twenty-five dollars worth,” shouted Walter.

“What sort?”

“Every sort—beef, pork, coffee, sugar, biscuit, and some fresh
vegetables, if you have them. I haven’t a mouthful on board.”

After a short time spent in conversation with a man who stood at his
side, during which he was doubtless expressing his astonishment that the
commander of any craft should be foolish enough to venture so far from
land without a mouthful of provisions for himself and crew, the captain
of the schooner called out:

“All right. I reckon I shall have to take them aboard of you?”

“Yes, sir. I have no small boat to send after them.”

The captain walked away from the rail, and the young yachtsmen, overjoyed
at their success, began to express their appreciation of his kindness in
no measured terms. It wasn’t every shipmaster who would have sold them
the provisions, and not one in a hundred who would have sent his own boat
to bring them aboard.

“It is the money he is after,” said Walter. “These little traders will
do almost anything to turn a penny. Now Chase, hold her just as she is,
as nearly as you can. Eugene, open the fore-hatch and rig a block and
tackle; and the rest of us turn to and get up some boxes and barrels from
the hold to stow the provisions in.”

The crew, headed by Walter carrying a lighted lantern, went down into the
galley and opened the hold. What was the reason they did not hear the
strange sounds that came up from below as they threw back the hatch? They
might have heard them if they had not been so busy thinking and talking
about something else—sounds that would have created a panic among them at
once, for they strongly resembled the shuffling of feet and angry excited
whispering. It was dark in the hold in spite of the light the lantern
threw out, or Walter, as he leaped through the hatchway, might have seen
the figure which crept swiftly away and hid itself behind one of the
water-butts.

The barrels for the pork, beef, fresh vegetables and biscuit, and the
boxes for the coffee and sugar were quickly selected by Walter and passed
up to Wilson in the galley, who in turn handed them up to Bab through the
fore-hatchway. When this had been done the boys below returned to the
deck and waited for the schooner’s yawl, which soon made its appearance,
rowed by four sailors and steered by the captain.

Judging by the size of the load in the boat they had a liberal man to
deal with, for he was bringing them a goodly supply of provisions in
return for their promised twenty-five dollars. When he came alongside the
yacht he sprang over the rail and gazed about him with a good deal of
surprise and curiosity.

“Where’s the captain?” he asked.

“Here I am, sir,” replied Walter.

The master of the schooner stared hard at the boy, then at each of his
companions, ran his eye over the deck and rigging of the little vessel,
which was doubtless cleaner and more neatly kept than his own, and
finally turned and gave Walter another good looking over. “Are these your
crew?” he inquired, waving his hand toward the young sailors.

“Yes, sir.”

“No men on board?”

“Not one.”

“Well, now, I would like to know what you are doing so far from shore
in such a boat, and in such weather as this. Are you running away from
home?”

“No, sir,” replied Walter, emphatically. “Our homes are made so pleasant
for us that we wouldn’t think of such a thing.”

“Perhaps you are lost, then?”

“No, sir. We know just where we are going and what we intend to do. Our
vessel is perfectly safe, and this rough weather doesn’t trouble us.
We’re used to it. Shall we stand by to take the provisions aboard?”

It was clear enough to the yacht’s company, that the captain would have
given something to know what they were doing out there, where they were
going, and what their business was, but he made no further attempts
to pry into their affairs. The manner in which the yacht was handled
when she came alongside his own vessel, and the coolness and confidence
manifested by her boy crew, satisfied him that they understood what
they were about, and that was as much as he had any right to know. The
provisions were quickly hoisted aboard and paid for; and after Walter
had cordially thanked the master of the schooner for the favor received
at his hands, and the latter had wished Walter a safe run and success
in his undertaking, whatever it was, the two vessels parted company—one
continuing her voyage toward New Orleans, and the other filling away in
pursuit of the smuggler, which was by this time almost hull down.

“Now, fellows, let’s turn to and get these things out of the way,” said
Walter, springing down from the rail, after waving a last farewell to the
master of the schooner. “I feel better than I did two hours ago, for, to
tell the truth, I was by no means certain that we should meet a vessel;
or, if we did, I was afraid she might be commanded by some one who would
pay no attention to our request. Suppose we had been knocked about on the
Gulf for two or three days, with nothing to eat! Wouldn’t we have been in
a nice fix? Now, Perk, we’ve got business for you; and I suggest that you
serve us up a cup of hot coffee and a good dinner, with as little delay
as possible.”

“Now, just listen to me a minute, and I’ll tell you what’s a fact,”
replied Perk. “I can’t take charge of the galley and act as second in
command of the yacht at the same time, so I will resign my lieutenancy in
favor of Chase, if you will appoint him.”

“Of course I will,” said Walter.

“I can’t take it, fellows,” shouted Chase, from his place at the wheel.

“You’ve no voice in the matter,” replied Eugene. “It is just as the
captain says; so consider yourself appointed, and give me your place.
It’s irregular for an officer to stand a trick at the wheel, you know.
That is the duty of us foremast hands.”

Of course this was all strategy on Perk’s part. The Club knew it, and so
did Chase and Wilson; and that was the reason the former remonstrated.
After thinking the matter over, however, he decided to act in Perk’s
place. He told himself that there would be no responsibility attached
to the office, for Walter would never leave the deck while that rough
weather continued. The young captain regarded his yacht as the apple of
his eye; and when he was willing to allow any one even the smallest share
in the management of her, it was a sure sign that he liked him and had
confidence in him. If Chase had never before been satisfied that the Club
were in earnest in all they said, he was now, and so was Wilson.




CHAPTER V.

THE DESERTERS.


By the aid of the block and tackle which Eugene had rigged over the
fore-hatchway, the provisions were lowered through the galley into the
hold, where they were stowed away so snugly that they would not be thrown
about by the pitching of the vessel. This done, the hatch that led
into the hold was closed and fastened. Perk, remembering who had come
through there a short time before, put down the hatch himself, stamping
it into its place, and securing the bar with the padlock—the fore-hatch
was closed and battened down, the block and tackle stowed away in their
proper place, and things began to look ship-shape once more.

The foremast hands, as Eugene called himself and companions, who did not
hold office, gathered in the standing room to converse; Walter and Chase
planked the weather-side of the deck, the former linking his arm through
that of his lieutenant, and talking and laughing with him as though they
had always been fast friends; a fire was crackling away merrily in the
galley stove; and Perk, divested of his coat, his sleeves rolled up to
his shoulders, revealing arms as brown and muscular as Uncle Dick’s, was
superintending the cooking of the “skouse” and “dough-boy,” and singing
at the top of his voice, the words of an old but favorite song of the
Clubs:

    “The land of my home is flitting, flitting from my view;
    The gale in the sail is setting, toils the merry crew.”

He roared out the following lines with more than his usual energy:

    “Here let my home be, on the waters wide;
    I heed not your anger, for Maggie’s by my side.
    My own loved Maggie dear, sitting by my side;
    Maggie dear, my own love, sitting by my side.”

Perk knew a Maggie—only her name was Ella—to whom he used to send
valentines and invitations to barbecues and boat-rides, but she was not
sitting by his side just then, and consequently we doubt if he would have
been quite willing to make his home there on the waters wide, even though
he had the yacht for a shelter and the Club for companions. The Maggie of
whom Perk was thinking was safe at home in Bellville. She knew that her
stalwart admirer was tossing about somewhere on the Gulf, and in spite of
her fears for his safety she would have laughed could she have seen him
at his present occupation.

“Mind what you are about, Eugene,” said Walter, shaking his finger
warningly at his brother. “Handle her easy. Perk’s in the galley, and
that’s a guaranty that there’s something good coming out of there. If you
go to knocking things about and spoiling his arrangements, I’ll put you
in the brig.”

“Very good, Commodore,” replied Eugene, touching his hat with mock
civility, and giving his trowsers a hitch with one elbow; “I want some of
that hot coffee as much as anybody does, sir, even if there is no cream
to put in it; and I’ll make her ride every wave without a tremble, sir.”

Although the young sailors had eaten a hearty lunch not more than three
hours before, they were quite ready for dinner, even such a dinner as
could be served up out of plain ship’s fare. But the principal reason
why Perk was ordered below as soon as the provisions were received, was
because his services were not then needed on deck, and it was a favorable
time to build a fire in the galley while the Gulf was comparatively
smooth—that is, the Club thought it comparatively smooth, although a boy
unaccustomed to the water would have thought that the yacht was going to
roll over and sink out of sight every minute. But the probabilities were
that in an hour things would be even worse. The storm that was coming
up so slowly and surely promised to be a hard one and a long one; and
the dinner that Perk was now serving up might be the last warm meal they
would have for a day or two.

Perk’s song arose louder and louder, a sure sign that the summons to
dinner would not be long delayed. The savory smell of cooking viands
came up from below every time the cabin door was opened, and the boys
in the standing room snuffed up their noses, said “Ah!” in deep bass
voices, and tried to get a glimpse of what was going on in the galley.
The jingling of iron rods was heard in the cabin as the table was lowered
to its place, then the rattling of dishes, and finally three long-drawn
whistles, in imitation of a boatswain’s pipe, announced that the meal was
ready. Chase, Wilson and Bab answered the call, leaving Walter and his
brother to care for the yacht. In half an hour they returned to the deck
looking very much pleased and refreshed, and when Perk gave three more
whistles Walter and Eugene went below.

“Any orders, captain?” asked Chase, who did not like the idea of being
left in charge of the deck even for a minute.

“Follow in the wake of the smuggling vessel,” replied Walter. “That’s
all.”

If the sight that greeted Walter’s eyes as he went below would have
been a pleasing one to a hungry boy under ordinary circumstances, it
was doubly so to one who had stood for hours in wet clothing, exposed
to the full fury of a cutting north-west wind. The cabin was warm and
comfortable, the dishes clean and white, the viands smoking hot, and
Walter, Perk and Eugene did ample justice to them. When the meal was
finished, the two brothers lent a hand in clearing away the table and
washing the dishes; and after the galley stove had been replenished,
they, in company with Perk, stretched themselves out on the lee-locker
and went to sleep. It seemed to the young captain that he had scarcely
closed his eyes when he was aroused by a voice. He started up and saw
Bab, whose clothes were dripping with water, lighting the lamps in the
cabin. “Why, it isn’t dark, is it?” asked Walter.

“It is growing dark. You’ve had a glorious sleep, but you had better roll
out now and see to things, for poor Chase is in a peck of trouble. It’s
come.”

“What has?”

“Can’t you hear it and feel it? Rain and sleet, and wind, and such an
ugly, chopping sea. It is coming harder every minute.”

That was very evident. The howling of the storm could be plainly heard
in the cabin, and the pitching and straining of the yacht as she labored
through the waves, told Walter that it was indeed high time he was taking
matters into his own hands. Hastily arousing his sleeping companions, he
went into the galley for some of his clothing, which he had left there
to dry, and in a few minutes, equipped in pea-jacket, gloves, muffler
and heavy boots, went up to face the storm. It was already dark, and the
rain, freezing as it fell, was coming down in torrents.

“Where’s the schooner?” asked Walter.

“I lost sight of her just after I sent Bab down to call you,” replied
Chase. “My only fear is that we shall not be able to find her again.”

“I have no hopes of it,” replied Walter. “We’ll take an observation
to-morrow if the sun comes out, and hold straight for Havana. Call those
fellows up from the cabin, and after we’ve made everything secure, go
below and turn in for the night. There’s a good fire in the galley.”

The crew were quickly summoned to the deck, and in the face of blinding
rain and sleet, proceeded to carry out the orders which Walter shouted at
them through his trumpet. In twenty minutes more Chase and his drenched
companions were enjoying the genial warmth of the galley stove, and the
Banner, relieved of the strain upon her, and guided by the hands of her
skilful young captain, who stood at the wheel, was riding the waves as
gracefully as a sea-gull.

At eight o’clock the boys below, warmed and dried, and refreshed by the
pot of hot coffee which the thoughtful Perk had left for them, were
sleeping soundly, while Eugene steered the vessel, and Walter and Perk
acted as lookouts. But there were other wakeful and active ones on board
the Banner, besides Walter and his two companions—some, who, alarmed by
the rolling and pitching of the little vessel, and knowing that she was
manned only by boys, were making desperate efforts to reach the deck. Had
any one been standing in the galley ten minutes after the watch below
went into the cabin to sleep, his eyes and ears would have convinced him
of this fact. He would have heard a sound like the cutting of wood, and
a few seconds afterward he would have seen the point of an auger come up
through the floor of the galley, in close proximity to the staple which
confined the hatch leading into the hold. Presently he would have seen
the auger disappear and come into view again in another place. Then it
would have been clear to him that some one in the hold was cutting out
the staple by boring holes in a circle around it. Such a proceeding was
in reality going on on board the yacht, although the fact was unknown to
her crew. Walter had come into the cabin every half hour during his watch
to see that everything was safe—looking at the stove, and turning the
coats and trowsers that hung before it, so that his companions might have
dry clothing to put on when they awoke; but he never thought of casting
his eyes toward the hatch.

The auger was kept steadily at work, and presently the plank into which
the staple was driven, was cut entirely through, the staple with the
circular piece of wood attached was pushed up, the hatch slowly and
cautiously raised, and a pair of eyes appeared above the combings and
looked through the open door into the cabin. They roved from one to the
other of the sleeping boys, and then the hatch was laid carefully back
upon the floor of the galley, and a man dressed in the uniform of the
revenue service sprang out. Another and another followed, until four of
them appeared—all stalwart men, and armed with hatchets, chisels and
billets of wood. They halted a moment to hold a whispered consultation,
and then, with quick and noiseless footsteps, passed into the cabin. Two
of them stopped beside the locker on which Chase and his unconscious
companions lay, and the others jerked open the door of the cabin and
sprang out into the standing room. Paying no attention to Eugene, who
was struck dumb and motionless with astonishment, they glanced about the
deck, and discovering Walter and Perk standing on the forecastle, they
rushed at them with uplifted weapons.

“Don’t move, my lad,” said one of the sailors, seizing Perk by the
collar, and flourishing a heavy chisel over his head. “If you do, I’ll
send you straight to Davy’s locker.”

“Now, just listen to me a minute, and I’ll tell you what’s a fact,”
replied Perk. “Don’t trouble yourself to send me there or anywhere else.
I am not likely to make much resistance as long as you keep that weapon
over me.”

Walter was equally cool and collected. Although he was taken completely
by surprise by the suddenness of the attack, he had no difficulty in
finding an explanation for it. As quick as a flash, some words he had
heard a few hours before, came back to him. He remembered that, when he
told the captain of the cutter that there were two deserters on board the
yacht, the latter had remarked to his lieutenant: “Only two! Then the
others must have escaped to the shore.” These were the “others” to whom
the captain referred. They had not shown themselves, or even made their
presence known during the fight in the galley, and their two companions,
whom Walter had delivered up to the revenue commander, had not betrayed
them. The young captain wished now, when it was too late, that he had
searched the hold while the cutter was alongside.

“Easy! easy!” said Walter, when his stalwart assailant seized him by the
throat, and brandished his hatchet before his eyes.

“Who commands this craft?” demanded the sailor.

“I have the honor,” replied Walter, without the least tremor in his
voice. “Look here, Mr. Revenue-man,” he added, addressing himself
to Perk’s antagonist, “don’t choke that boy. He has no intention of
resisting you, and neither have I. We know where you came from, and what
you intend to do.”

“Well, you’re a cool hand!” said Walter’s captor, releasing his hold of
the young captain’s throat, and lowering his hatchet. “You’re sensible,
too. Will you give the vessel up to us without any fuss?”

“I didn’t say so. I’ve a watch below.”

“O, they can’t help you, for they’re captured already. There’s a half a
dozen of our fellers down there guarding ’em. Now, look a here, cap’n:
there’s no use of wasting words over this thing. We’re deserters from the
United States revenue service, as you know, and we’re bound to get to
Havana some way or other.”

“Well?” said Walter, when the sailor paused.

“Well, we want this vessel to take us there.”

“I suppose she will have to do it.”

“But there’s one difficulty in the way,” the sailor went on. “We don’t
know what course to sail to get there. Do you know anything about
navigation?”

“If I didn’t, I don’t think I should be out here in command of a yacht,”
said Walter, with a smile. And if he had added that he could take a
vessel around the world, he would have told nothing but the truth. He and
all the rest of the Club had studied navigation at the Academy, and under
Uncle Dick, who drilled them in the use of instruments, and they were
quite accomplished navigators for boys of their age.

“Now, this is just the way the thing stands,” continued the sailor.
“You’re too far from Bellville to give us up to the cutter, like you
did them other fellers, and we ain’t likely to let you turn about and
go there either. We’re going to Havana; and if you will take us there
without any foolishness, we’ll be the peaceablest fellers you ever saw.
We’ll obey orders, help manage the yacht, live off your grub, and behave
ourselves like gentlemen; but if you try to get to windward of us in any
way, we’ll pitch the last one of you overboard. Mebbe you don’t know it,
but we are going to ship aboard a Cuban privateer. We can make more that
way than we can in Uncle Sam’s service—prize-money, you know.”

“I know all about it,” replied Walter. “I heard it from your captain.”

“Well, what do you say?”

“I say, that I will agree to your terms, seeing that I can’t help myself.
If I could, I might give you a different answer.”

“You’re sensible. I know you don’t want us here, but as we can’t get out
and walk to Cuba, I’m thinking you will have to put up with our company
till we find that privateer.”

“O, I didn’t agree to any such arrangement,” replied Walter, quickly.
“I said I would take you to Havana, and so I will; but I am not going
all around Robin Hood’s barn looking for a Cuban privateer, for I should
never find her. There’s no such thing in existence. Besides, we’ve got
business of our own to attend to.”

“I don’t care about your business,” said the sailor, who did not know
whether to smile or get angry at Walter’s plain speech. “You’ll go just
where we tell you to go. Don’t rile us, or you’ll find us a desperate
lot.”

“I don’t intend to rile you, and neither am I going to be imposed upon
any longer than I can help.”

Walter turned on his heel and walked aft, and Perk, taking his cue from
the captain’s actions, resumed his duties as lookout, paying no more
attention to the two sailors than if they had been some of the rope-yarns
attached to the rigging. In a few hurried words, Walter explained the
state of affairs to Eugene, whom he found almost bursting with impatience
to learn the particulars of the interview on the forecastle, and then
looking into the cabin, saw Chase and his companions stretched out on the
lockers, wide awake, but afraid to rise for fear of the weapons which the
two sailors who were guarding them held over their heads. Walter had been
led to believe, by what the sailor said to him, that there were at least
eight deserters on board the yacht. Had he known that there were but half
that number, he might not have been so ready to accede to their leader’s
demands.

“Come up out o’ that, you revenue men, and let those boys go to sleep,”
said Walter, in a tone of command.

“Belay your jaw,” was the gruff reply. “We take orders from nobody but
Tomlinson. Where is he?”

“Here I am,” said the sailor who had held the conversation with Walter.
“I’ve the cap’n’s word that we shall be landed in Havana, and no attempts
made to humbug us. _My_ name is Tomlinson,” he added, turning to the
commander of the yacht. “If you want anything out of these fellers, just
speak to me. When does the watch below come on deck?”

“As soon as they’ve had sleep enough. They didn’t close their eyes last
night.”

“All right. I say, mates,” continued Tomlinson, addressing his companions
in the cabin, “just tumble on to them lockers and go to sleep. You’ll be
in that watch, and me and Bob’ll be in the cap’n’s watch; then there’ll
be two of us on deck all the time.”

Walter, without waiting to hear whether the sailor had anything else to
say, slammed the door of the cabin, and in no amiable frame of mind went
forward and joined Perk; while Tomlinson and his companion, after taking
a look at the binnacle, stationed themselves in the waist, where they
could see all that was going on.

“Well,” said Walter, “what do you think of this?”

“I think that revenue captain must be very stupid to allow six men to
desert under his very nose,” replied Perk. “If I had been in his place, I
would have known every man who belonged to that prize crew; and I could
have told whether or not they were all present without mustering them.
What are you going to do?”

“I intend to get rid of them at the earliest possible moment. We shall
not be able to make Havana in this wind, but we’ll hit some port on the
Cuban coast, and we’ll try to induce these fellows to leave us there. I
didn’t agree to find a privateer for them, and I am not going to do it.
That revenue cutter has been the cause of more trouble to us than she is
worth.”

And the trouble was not yet ended, if Walter had only known it. The
deserters were not to be got rid of as easily as he imagined.

The storm was fully as violent as the young captain expected it would be.
It might have been a great deal worse, but if it had been, the story of
the Club’s adventures would not have been as long as we intend to make
it. Walter had ample opportunity for the display of his seamanship, and
if any faith is to be put in the word of the deserters, the yacht was
well handled. These worthies, true to their promise, conducted themselves
with the utmost propriety. They watched Walter pretty closely for the
first few hours, but finding that he knew what he was doing, and that he
had no intention of attempting to secure them, they gave themselves no
further concern. They obeyed orders as promptly as if Walter had been
their lawful captain, and treated the young yachtsmen with a great show
of respect.

One day Tomlinson, in reply to a question from Walter, explained their
presence on board the yacht. He and five companions belonged to the
prize crew which had taken charge of the Banner after her capture by
the cutter. While they were guarding the prisoners in the cabin, they
learned from them that the yacht was bound for Lost Island, and that she
would begin the voyage again as soon as the difficulty with the revenue
captain was settled. Upon hearing this, Tomlinson and his friends, who
had long been on the lookout for an opportunity to desert the cutter,
concealed themselves in the hold, hoping to escape discovery until the
Banner was once more outside the harbor of Bellville. They made their
first attempt to gain the deck at the wrong time, as it proved, for Perk
was on hand to defeat them. They knew that the young sailors had seen but
two of their number, and when Walter opened the hatch and ordered them
on deck, two of them obeyed, while the others remained behind, awaiting
another opportunity to make a strike for their freedom. They never had
any intention of taking the vessel out of the hands of her captain. All
they wanted was to be on deck where they could see what was going on, and
to have the assurance that they should be carried to Havana.

On the morning of the fifth day after leaving Bellville Cuba was in plain
sight, and at noon the Banner, after passing several small islands,
entered a little harbor about a hundred miles to the eastward of Havana.
The Club were in a strange place and among a strange people, but the
sight of the little town nestled among the hills was a pleasant one to
their eyes. They were heartily tired of being tossed about on the Gulf,
and longed to feel the solid ground under their feet once more. Their
provisions were entirely exhausted, and where the next meal was coming
from they had not the slightest idea. This, however, did not trouble
them so much as the presence of the deserters. They had quite enough of
their company. It was Walter’s intention to remain in the harbor until
the wind and sea abated, and in the meantime to use every argument he
could think of to induce the men to go ashore. The young captain was
utterly discouraged. He had seen nothing of the schooner since the first
day out, and he was not likely to see her again, for he had been blown
a long way out of his course, and by the time he could reach Havana,
Fred Craven would be shipped off to Mexico, and the schooner would have
discharged her contraband cargo and be half way on her return voyage to
Bellville.

“Captain, there’s an officer wants to come aboard,” said Tomlinson,
breaking in upon his reverie.

Walter looked toward the shore and saw a boat putting off from the
nearest wharf, and a man dressed in uniform standing in the stern waving
his handkerchief. “Who is he?” asked the young captain.

“One of them revenue fellers, I guess. These chaps are very particular.”

“I am glad to hear it, for if we can find that schooner we may be able
to induce them to examine her.”

The yacht was thrown up into the wind, and in a few minutes the officer
came on board—a fierce-looking Spaniard, with a mustache which covered
all the lower part of his face, and an air as pompous as that of the
revenue captain. He touched his hat to Walter, and addressed some words
to him which the latter could not understand.

“I hope there’s nothing wrong,” said the commander, anxiously. “I may
have violated some of the rules of the port, for I am like a cat in a
strange garret here. Tomlinson, can you speak his lingo?”

“No, sir. Talk French to the lubber, if you can.”

Walter could and did. The visitor replied in the same language, and his
business was quickly settled. He was a revenue officer, as Tomlinson had
surmised, and wanted to look at the yacht’s papers, which were quickly
produced; although of what use they could be to a man who did not
understand English, Walter could not determine. The officer looked at
them a moment, with an air of profound wisdom, and then returning them
with the remark that they were all right, touched his hat and sprang
into his boat. As soon as he was clear of the side the yacht filled
away again, Walter taking his stand upon the rail and looking out for a
convenient place to moor his vessel; but there were but two small wharves
in the harbor, and every berth seemed to be occupied. As he ran his eye
along the brigs, barks and schooners, wondering if there were an American
among them, his gaze suddenly became fastened upon a little craft which
looked familiar to him. He was certain he had seen that black hull and
those tall, raking masts before. He looked again, and in a voice which
trembled in spite of all his efforts to control it, requested Eugene to
hand him his glass.

“What’s the matter?” asked the crew in concert, crowding up to the rail.
“What do you see?”

“He sees the Stella, and so do I!” exclaimed Bab, in great excitement.

“Yes, it is the Stella,” said Walter, so overjoyed at this streak of good
fortune that he could scarcely speak. “Now, we’ll see if these Cuban
revenue officers are as worthless as some of our own. But I say, Perk,”
he added, his excitement suddenly increasing, “take this glass and tell
me who those three persons are who are walking up the hill, just beyond
the schooner.”

Perk leveled the glass, but had not held it to his eye long before his
hand began to tremble, and his face assumed an expression much like that
it had worn during his contest with the deserters, and while he was
confronting Bayard Bell and his crowd. Without saying a word he handed
the glass to Eugene, and settling his hat firmly on his head pushed back
his coat sleeves. He acted as if he wanted to fight.

“They are Mr. Bell, the captain of the Stella, and—who is that walking
between them? Fred Craven, as I live!” Eugene almost shouted.

“Now, listen to me a minute, and I’ll tell you what’s a fact,” said Perk,
bringing his clenched fist down into the palm of his hand. “That’s just
who they are.”

“Fred sees us, too,” continued Eugene. “He is looking back at us.”

“I didn’t think I could be mistaken,” said Walter. “Perk, keep your eye
on them and see where they go. Stand by, fellows. When we reach the wharf
make everything fast as soon as possible; and Eugene, you and Bab see if
you can find that revenue officer. If you do, tell him the whole story,
and take him on board the schooner. Perk and I will follow Fred, and
Chase and Wilson will watch the yacht.”

In ten minutes more, the Banner’s bow touched a brig lying alongside the
wharf, and too impatient to wait until she was made fast, Walter and Perk
hurried to the shore and ran up the hill in pursuit of Fred Craven. How
great would have been their astonishment, had they known that they were
running into a trap that had been prepared for them.




CHAPTER VI.

A CHAPTER OF INCIDENTS.


As soon as the yacht had been made fast to the brig, Eugene and Bab
sprang over the rail and hurried away in search of the revenue officer,
leaving Chase and Wilson to put everything to rights, and to look out
for the vessel. The latter, excited and delighted almost beyond measure
at the prospect of the speedy rescue of Fred Craven, kept their eyes
fastened upon Walter and Perk, as they ran up the hill, and when they
disappeared from view, reluctantly set to work to furl the sails and
clear up the deck. The deserters, however, suddenly seemed to have lost
all interest in the yacht. Instead of assisting the young sailors at
their work, they gathered in the standing-room and held a whispered
consultation, ever and anon glancing toward the lieutenant, to make sure
that he was not listening or observing their movements. Chase did not
appear to notice what was going on, but for all that he was wide awake.
Feeling the full weight of the responsibility that Walter had thrown upon
him, in leaving him in charge of the yacht, he was inclined to be nervous
and suspicious of everything.

“What are those fellows up to?” he asked of his companion, in a whisper.

“What makes you think they are up to anything?” inquired Wilson.

“I judge by their actions. If they are not planning some mischief, why do
they watch us so closely, and talk in so low a tone that we cannot hear
them? How easy it would be for them to take the yacht from us and go to
sea again, if they felt so inclined! I really believe that is what they
are talking about.”

“I never thought of that,” said Wilson, almost paralyzed at the simple
mention of the thing. “What would Walter say if some such misfortune
should befall the Banner, while she is under our charge? He would
never forgive us. But of course, they won’t attempt it, for they don’t
understand navigation.”

But Wilson was not as well acquainted with the dispositions of the men
with whom they had to deal as Chase was. The latter had made a shrewd
guess, for the deserters were at that very moment discussing a plan for
seizing the Banner and making off with her. They lived in constant fear
of capture—they did not know at what instant they might see the revenue
cutter coming into the harbor—and they could not feel free from danger
until they were safe on board the privateer of which they were in search.
They wanted to go to Havana at once, and this forced delay was more than
they could endure. The leader of the deserters was urging an immediate
departure, but his companions were not quite ready to give their consent
to his plans.

“Perhaps we shall now find out what they are talking about,” whispered
Chase, suddenly, “for here comes Tomlinson. Keep your weather-eye open,
and be ready for any tricks.”

“I say, lads!” exclaimed the deserter, approaching the place where the
boys were at work, “what’s your business here, anyhow? What brought you
to Cuba?”

“Didn’t the captain tell you?” asked Chase.

“He didn’t even hint it.”

“Then it isn’t worth while to make inquiries of us. Our business concerns
no one but ourselves and our friends.”

“Well, ain’t me and my mates friends of yours? Mebbe we can help you.”

“If the captain had thought so, no doubt he would have taken you into his
confidence. Wait until he returns, and talk to him.”

“Where has he gone?”

“I don’t know.”

“When will he be back?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea.”

“How long before he is going to sail for Havana?”

“I don’t know that either. He’ll not start until this wind goes down and
he gets some provisions—perhaps not even then. His business may keep him
here a week.”

Tomlinson turned on his heel, and walking aft, joined his companions.
“It must be done, mates,” said he in a whisper. “The lads are as dumb as
tar-buckets, and all I could find out was that the yacht may stay here
several days. During that time, the privateer may make up her crew and go
to sea, and we shall be left out in the cold. We ought to be in Havana
now.”

“But I am ’most afraid to trust you in command, Tom,” said one of the
deserters. “The captain says it is a good hundred miles to Havana.”

“No matter if it is a thousand; I can find it. All we have to do is to
sail along the coast. We’ll know the city when we see it, won’t we?”

“But we need some grub, and how are we going to get it?”

“As soon as it grows dark we’ll land and steal some—that’s the way we’ll
get it. What do you say now? I am going to Havana in this yacht: who’s
going with me?”

This question settled the matter at once. All the deserters were anxious
to find the privateer, and since Tomlinson, who was the ruling spirit of
the band, was determined to start in search of her, the others, rather
than be left behind, decided to accompany him, and run all the risks of
shipwreck.

The immediate seizure of the yacht having been resolved upon, the next
question to be settled was: What should be done with the boys? After
a few minutes’ conversation on this point, Tomlinson and two of his
companions went forward to assist Chase and Wilson, while the fourth
walked to the stern, and leaning his folded arms upon the rail, gazed
listlessly into the water. Tomlinson and his two friends lent effective
aid, and the deck of the Banner soon began to present its usual scene
of neatness and order. The former kept up a running fire of jokes and
stories, in the midst of which he suddenly paused, and stood fiercely
regarding his companion in the standing room.

“Bob,” said he, in a tone of command, “I never knew before that you were
a soger. Look around and find something to do.”

“Where shall I go?” asked Bob, gruffly.

“Anywhere, so long as you don’t stand there skulking. Go into the cabin,
and put it in order against the captain comes back.”

Bob slowly straightened up and sauntered down the companion-ladder, but
almost immediately reappeared. “The cabin’s all right,” he growled.
“Everything’s in order.”

“Then go into the galley, or into the hold, and see if things are all
right there,” returned Tomlinson, angrily. “I know you can find something
to do somewhere about the yacht.”

Bob disappeared in the cabin again, and presently Chase heard him
tumbling things about in the hold. In a few minutes he once more thrust
his head out of the companion-way.

“Well, what’s the row now?” asked Tomlinson. “Find anything to do down
there?”

“Plenty of it,” was the reply. “Lieutenant, will you step down here a
moment?”

Chase, believing from Bob’s tone and manner, that he had found something
very much out of the way in the hold, started toward the companion-way;
but just before he reached it, a thought struck him, and he stopped and
looked earnestly at the man. “What’s the matter down there?” he asked.

“One of the water-butts has sprung a leak, sir,” said the sailor.

“That’s a dreadful calamity, isn’t it? Don’t you know what to do in such
a case? Bail the water out of the leaky butt into one of the others.”

“But there’s none to bail out, sir. Every drop has leaked out, and the
water is ankle deep all over the hold.”

“Wilson,” said Chase, turning to his companion, “just give a stroke or
two on that pump, will you?”

Wilson did as he was requested, but not a drop of water was brought up.
The Banner’s hold was as dry as a piece of hard-tack.

“How are you, leaky water-butt!” exclaimed Chase, with a significant
glance at Wilson. “Anything else wrong below, Bob?”

The sailor, somewhat disconcerted, did not know what to say at first, but
after a look at Tomlinson, he replied:

“Yes, sir. Everything is pitched out of place, and I shall need some one
to help me put ’em to rights. I can’t lift those heavy tool-chests by
myself.”

“Look here, Bob,” said Chase, suddenly; “you’re not a good hand at this
business. You can’t tell a falsehood and keep a straight face.”

“Falsehood, sir!” exclaimed the sailor, ascending a step or two nearer
the top of the companion-ladder, as if he had half a mind to come on deck
and resent the word. “Do you say I lie?”

“Well, no; I didn’t say so,” replied Chase, not in the least intimidated
by the man’s threatening glances; “I can generally express myself without
being so rude. But that is just what I mean. You know the hold is in
order, and so do I; for I was down there not five minutes before we
landed. I am too old to be taken in by any such flimsy trick as this.
You’ll have to study up a better one if you expect to deceive me.”

So saying, Chase walked back to the forecastle and resumed his work,
while Bob, not knowing what reply to make, went down into the cabin.
The lieutenant kept his eye upon Tomlinson and his two friends, and saw
that, when they thought themselves unobserved, they exchanged glances
indicative of rage and disappointment. One by one they walked aft to the
standing room, and in a few minutes more were holding another council of
war.

“Chase, you’re a sharp one,” said Wilson, approvingly. “If I had been in
your place I should have been nicely fooled. What do you suppose they
want to do?”

“They intend to capture us and run off with the yacht; that’s their game.
They are afraid to lay hands on us as long as we remain on deck, but if
they could get us into the cabin out of sight, they would make prisoners
of us in a hurry. O, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” added Chase,
noticing the expression of anxiety that settled on his companion’s face.
“If they attack us we’ll summon help from this brig.”

The deserters were much astonished as well as disheartened by the failure
of their clumsy attempt to entice the lieutenant into the hold. They saw
that he suspected them and was on the alert. They were none the less
determined, however, to possess themselves of the yacht, and when they
gathered in the standing room Tomlinson, who was fruitful in expedients,
had another plan to propose. While they were discussing it a sailor,
who had for some time been leaning over the brig’s rail, watching all
that was going on on board the Banner, swung himself off by his hands
and dropped upon her deck. Chase and Wilson saw him, but supposing that
he was one of the crew of the brig, whose curiosity had prompted him to
visit the yacht, they said nothing to him.

The stranger, finding that no one paid any attention to his movements,
set himself at work to examine the yacht very closely, especially as much
of her internal arrangements as he could see through her hatchways. He
spent ten minutes in this way, and then sauntered toward the standing
room. The sound of his footsteps attracted the attention of Tomlinson,
who looked up and greeted him with:

“Hallo, mate! Do you happen to have a pipeful of tobacco about you?”

The sailor produced a good-sized plug from his pocket and asked, as he
handed it to Tomlinson: “What craft is this?”

“She’s a private yacht—the Banner—and belongs in Bellville, Louisiana,”
was the answer. “Me and my mates here are the crew. We are hired by the
year, and all we have to do is to take a half a dozen young gentlemen
wherever they want to go.”

“You have papers, of course?”

“Yes. The captain keeps them in that desk in the cabin.”

The stranger directed his gaze down the companion-way, and after taking a
good look at the little writing-desk Tomlinson pointed out to him, asked,
as he jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the two boys on the
forecastle:

“Who are those fellows? I think I have seen them somewhere.”

“Their names are Chase and Wilson, and they are a couple of green hands
who came out with us. The cap’n and steward have gone ashore to get some
grub. We’ve been knocked about on the Gulf for the last five days, and
we’ve made way with the last mouthful of salt horse and hard tack. We
haven’t had any breakfast yet.”

“You haven’t!” exclaimed the sailor. “Then come with me. I am mate of
the schooner Stella, which lies a little way below here. I’ll give you a
good breakfast and a pipe to smoke after it.”

Tomlinson and his friends were much too hungry to decline an invitation
of this kind. Without saying a word they followed the mate on board the
brig, thence to the wharf, and in a few minutes found themselves on board
the Stella. After conducting them into the forecastle, their guide made
his way across the deck and down the companion-ladder into the cabin,
where he found Mr. Bell pacing to and fro.

“Well,” said the latter, pausing in his walk, “waste no time in words
now. Have you succeeded?”

“Not yet, sir,” replied the mate. “I found more men there than I expected
to find—four sailors, who say they are the hired crew of the yacht, but I
know they are deserters from Uncle Sam’s revenue service. How they came
on board the Banner, I did not stop to inquire. They told me they had
eaten no breakfast, and I brought them up here. We can easily keep them
out of the way until the work is done.”

“Very good,” said Mr. Bell. “Tell the steward to serve them up a good
meal at once. Was there anybody else on board the yacht?”

“Yes, sir; Chase and Wilson were there, and I am now going back to attend
to them. The vessel’s papers are kept in a writing-desk in the cabin, and
I shall have no trouble in securing them.”

The mate left the cabin, and after repeating Mr. Bell’s order to the
steward, sprang over the rail, and hurried along the wharf toward the
place where the Banner lay. When he arrived within sight of her, he was
surprised to see that Chase and Wilson were making preparations to get
under way. The jib was already shaking in the wind, and the foresail was
slowly crawling up the mast. Chase was determined that the deserters
should not return on board the yacht if he could prevent it. He would
anchor the vessel at a safe distance from the shore, with the sails
hoisted, and if Tomlinson and his friends attempted to reach her by the
aid of a boat he would slip the cable and run away from them.

“It seems that I am just in time,” soliloquized the mate of the Stella.
“A few minutes’ delay would have spoiled everything. Tony,” he added in
Spanish, turning to a negro who stood close by, and who seemed to be
awaiting his orders, “here’s the note and here’s the money. Be in a
hurry now, and mind what you are about.”

The negro took the articles the mate handed him, and after putting the
money into his pocket, and stowing the letter away in the crown of his
hat, he sprang on board the brig and made his way toward the yacht; while
the mate concealed himself behind some sugar hogsheads that stood on
the wharf to observe his movements. He saw the negro drop down upon the
deck of the Banner and present the note to Chase, and he noticed too the
excitement it produced upon the two boys.

The note the lieutenant received was as follows:

    “Friend CHASE:

    We have come up with Featherweight at last. He is still in the
    hands of the smugglers, but with a little assistance, we can
    easily rescue him. Come immediately, and bring all the boys
    with you. This darkey will act as your guide.

                          In great haste,

                                                         WALTER.”

“That’s business,” cried Chase, thrusting the note into his pocket, and
bustling about in such a state of excitement that he scarcely knew what
to do first. “We’ll see fun now. Close those hatches, and we’ll be off.
I only hope I shall get a chance to do something for Fred Craven. I want
to show him that I don’t forget favors.”

“Must we leave the Banner to take care of herself?” asked Wilson.

“What else can we do? We can’t very well put her into our pockets and
take her with us.”

“But what if something should happen to her? Suppose the deserters should
return and run off with her?”

“That’s Walter’s lookout, and not ours,” replied Chase, locking the door
of the cabin, and putting the key into his pocket. “I wonder if this
fellow can tell us where the captain is, and what he is doing? Can you
speak English?” he added, addressing the negro.

The man stared at him, but made no answer.

“Can you talk French?” continued Chase, speaking in that language.

The negro grinned, but said nothing.

“Well, we can’t talk Spanish, so we must wait until we see Walter, before
we can find out what has been going on,” said Wilson. “But it seems
strange that he should ask us to come to him and leave the vessel with
no one to watch her, doesn’t it?”

“Under ordinary circumstances it would,” answered Chase, springing
upon the deck of the brig, and hurrying toward the wharf. “But Walter
is working for Fred Craven, you know, and he would rather lose a dozen
yachts, if he had them, than to allow a hair of his head to be harmed.”

When the boys reached the wharf they put themselves under the guidance of
the negro, who led them through an arched gateway to the street, where
stood a heavy cotton wagon, to which was attached a team of four mules.
At a sign from the negro, the young sailors sprang into the vehicle, and
the man mounting one of the mules, set up a shout, the team broke into a
gallop, and the boys were whirled rapidly down the street.

When the wagon had disappeared, the mate of the Stella arose from his
place of concealment behind the sugar hogsheads, and with a smile of
satisfaction on his face walked rapidly toward his vessel. He spent a few
minutes in the cabin with Mr. Bell, and when he came on deck, ordered the
yawl to be manned. While this command was being obeyed by a part of the
schooner’s company, the others busied themselves in bringing boxes and
bales up from the cabin; and when the yawl was hauled alongside, these
articles were handed down to her crew, who stowed them away under the
thwarts. This done, the mate took his seat at the helm, the crew gave way
on the oars, and presently the yawl was lying alongside Walter Gaylord’s
yacht. The mate at once boarded her; the fore-hatch, which Chase and
Wilson, in their haste to obey the order contained in Walter’s note,
had neglected to fasten, was opened, and the officer and two of his men
jumped down into the galley, whence they made their way into the hold.
The boxes and bales were then passed up out of the yawl and through the
hatches, one by one, and stowed away behind the water-butts. This much
being accomplished, the mate came up out of the hold, and leaving his
men to close the hatch, went into the cabin and opened the desk which
Tomlinson had pointed out to him. Almost the first thing his eyes rested
upon was an official envelope, addressed to “Captain Walter Gaylord,
Commanding the Yacht Banner.” Thrusting it hastily into his pocket, he
ascended to the deck, and in a few seconds more the yawl was on her way
down the harbor. Arriving alongside the Stella, the mate once more
sought an interview with Mr. Bell, and handed him the envelope he had
taken from Walter’s desk. The gentleman glanced quickly over the document
it contained, and then tearing it into fragments, walked to one of the
stern windows and threw the pieces into the water.

“There!” said he, in a tone of exultation. “The next time Captain Gaylord
is asked to produce his clearance papers, I think he will have some
trouble in finding them. Before he is done with us he will wish he had
stayed at home where he belongs.”




CHAPTER VII.

DON CASPER.


Many were the speculations in which Chase and Wilson indulged, as they
were whirled along over the rough road, and bumped about from one side to
the other of the cotton wagon. What sort of a situation was Featherweight
in? Where had Walter and Perk found the wagon; and how had they made the
negro understand the service required of him, seeing that the man could
speak neither English nor French, and the captain and his companion could
not talk Spanish? These, and a multitude of questions of like character,
occupied the minds of the boy-tars for the next half hour, and during
that time, they left the village more than five miles behind them; but
still they were whirled along without the least diminution of speed, the
negro swinging his whip and yelling with all the power of his lungs, and
the heavy wagon rolling and plunging in a way that reminded the young
sailors of the antics the Banner had performed during her voyage across
the Gulf.

“There’s one thing about it”—shouted Wilson, holding fast to the side of
the vehicle, and speaking in a very loud tone of voice, in order to make
himself heard—“if Walter told this darkey to drive fast, he is obeying
orders most faithfully. Where do you suppose he is taking us? And tell
me, if you can, how Walter and Perk could have got so far out into the
country, during the hour and a half they have been gone from the vessel?”

“That is the very question that was passing through my own mind,” said
Chase. “To tell the truth, there’s something about this business that
doesn’t look exactly right.”

“Well, you needn’t mind knocking my brains out, if it doesn’t look
exactly right,” roared Wilson, as a sudden lurch of the wagon brought his
friend’s head in violent contact with his own. “Keep on your side if you
can, Chase.”

The loud rumbling of the wheels, and the rocking and swaying of the
clumsy vehicle as it flew over the uneven road, proved an effectual check
to conversation. The boys clung to opposite sides of the wagon, noting
the different objects of interest as they sped along, and wondering
what was to be the end of this adventure. Every mile of the way, they
saw something to remind them that Cuba was in a state of insurrection.
Groups of excited men were gathered in front of every plantation house
they passed, and now and then they met squads of government patrols
riding leisurely along the road. The officers of these squads all looked
suspiciously at the boys, as they dashed by, and one, in particular, bent
such savage glances upon them, that they were glad when he had passed out
of sight.

“I say, Wilson,” shouted Chase, suddenly, “do you know that the
expression on that officer’s face, has set me to thinking?”

“I don’t doubt it,” yelled Wilson, in reply. “It set me to thinking,
too. Wouldn’t it have been a joke on us, if he had taken us for spies or
something, and arrested us?”

“I confess, I can’t see where the joke would come in. How could we ever
get out of a scrape of that kind? We are in a strange country, among
people who speak a language different from ours, and we haven’t a friend
within seven or eight hundred miles. It would be a serious matter for us,
the first thing you know. I am glad that fierce-looking fellow is out of
sight, and I hope we shall not meet another like him.”

If the boys had known what the officer did in less than five minutes
after they met him, they might not have felt so very much relieved after
all. He rode straight ahead, until a bend in the road concealed him from
view, and then suddenly halting his squad, addressed a few words to two
of his men, who wheeled their horses and galloped back in pursuit of the
young sailors. They rode just fast enough to keep the wagon in sight, and
when they saw it draw up at the door of a plantation house, they faced
about again and hurried back to their companions. They must have had some
exciting report to make, for when their officer heard it, he ordered his
men into their saddles, and led them down the road at a rapid gallop.

When the negro driver reined his mules through a wide gateway, and drew
up in front of the door of the house of which we have spoken, the boys
knew that their ride was ended. They were glad of it, for it was anything
but pleasant to be jolted and bumped about over such roads as those they
had just traversed. They jumped out when the wagon stopped, and after
stretching their arms and legs, and knocking the dust out of their
hats, looked about them with interest. They saw before them a large and
comfortable plantation house, situated in a little grove of oleanders
and orange trees, flanked by neat negro quarters, and surrounded by
extensive sugar-fields, which stretched away on every side. They looked
around for Walter and Perk, but could see nothing of them. They were not
allowed much time for making observations, however, for the moment the
wagon stopped, a portly foreign-looking gentleman, whom the boys at once
put down as the proprietor of the plantation, made his appearance at the
door. He looked curiously at his visitors, and while the latter were
wondering what they ought to say to him, the negro driver mounted the
steps, and taking a letter from the crown of his hat, handed it to his
master. The reading of the document had an astonishing effect upon the
man. He opened his eyes to their widest extent, and muttering something
in Spanish, hurried down the steps, and seized each of the boys by the
hand.

“Come in! come in!” said he, hurriedly, and in tolerable English. “I am
delighted to see you, but I am surprised that Captain Conway should have
sent you out here in the day time. Come in, before the patrols see you.”

Chase and Wilson looked inquiringly at one another. “Captain Conway!”
whispered the latter, as he and his companion followed the gentleman up
the steps. “If _he_ had any hand in sending us here, we are in a scrape,
as sure as we’re a foot high.”

“I would give something to know what is in that letter,” said Chase.
“Where are Walter and Perk?”

“Haven’t the slightest idea; but I know that we shall not find them here.
The chances are ten to one that we shall never see them again. If there
were not so many negroes standing around, I would take to my heels in
short order.”

Chase was bewildered and perplexed beyond measure. The simple mention of
the name of the captain of the Stella, had aroused a thousand fears in
his mind; and imagining that all sorts of dreadful things were about to
happen to him, he was more than half inclined to spring off the steps
and make a desperate dash for his freedom, in spite of the presence of
the negroes; but while he was thinking about it, the foreign-looking
gentleman conducted him and his companion through the hall and into a
room, the door of which he was careful to close and lock behind him.
The two boys watched his movements with a good deal of anxiety, and
while Wilson glanced toward the open window, Chase stepped forward and
confronted the man.

“I am afraid,” said he, “that there is some mistake here, Mr.—— Mr.—— ”

“Don Casper Nevis,” said the gentleman, supplying the name. “There is no
mistake whatever.”

“But where is the captain?” continued Chase, “we expected to find him
here.”

“O, he’ll not come until dark; and he ought not to have sent you out here
in broad daylight, when he knows that every mile of the road is guarded.
Where is the schooner?”

“We left her at the wharf.”

“She ought to be up here. These Spanish officers are getting to be very
strict lately, and it is a wonder they didn’t search her the moment
she landed. I understand that both you and your vessel are known and
suspected. You must be very cautious. Your safest plan would be to go
back to town, and have the schooner brought into the bay at the rear of
my plantation. I have boats there, and everything in readiness.”

“But, Don,” replied Chase, “I don’t see the necessity for so much
secrecy.”

“My young friend, you don’t understand the matter at all,” said Don
Casper with a smile. “But you are weary with travel, and we will say no
more about it, until you have refreshed yourselves. We shall have ample
time to make all the arrangements after you have drank a cup of chocolate
and eaten a piece of toast.”

As the Don said this, he unlocked the door and went out, leaving the boys
to themselves.

“Didn’t I tell you that this thing didn’t look just right?” demanded
Chase, in an excited whisper. “That darkey has made a mistake, and
brought us to the wrong house.”

“But how in the name of sense could he do that?” asked Wilson, utterly
confounded. “He must have known where Walter was when he gave him that
note. By the way, let me look at it a moment.”

Chase handed out the letter, and was more amazed and alarmed than ever by
the expression that settled on his friend’s face as he ran his eye over
the missive. “What’s the matter now?” he asked. “Anything else wrong?”

“Nothing much,” was the answer; “only that’s not Walter Gaylord’s
writing—that’s all.”

“Eh!” exclaimed Chase, jumping from his chair.

“O, it is the truth, as you will find out when you meet Walter again. I
can tell his writing as far as I can see it.”

“Then who wrote this letter?”

“I wish I knew. Somebody has humbugged us very nicely, and I believe that
Captain Conway and Mr. Bell are at the bottom of it.”

“Let’s jump out of this window and make the best of our way back to
town,” exclaimed Chase, almost beside himself with excitement and terror.
“There’s no knowing what this old Creole intends to do to us.”

“And there’s no knowing what may happen to the Banner in our absence.
What if those deserters should run off with her? Here we are in Cuba,
without a cent in our pockets, and if we should lose the yacht how would
we ever get home?”

“Gracious!” exclaimed Chase.

“I’ll jump out of the window and run if you will,” continued Wilson.

With a common impulse the two boys arose from their seats and moved
across the floor on tiptoe; but just as Chase placed his hands on the
window-sill preparatory to springing out, the door suddenly opened, and
three negroes came in—one bringing a small table, and each of the others
carrying a tray filled with dishes and eatables on his head. So sudden
was their entrance that the boys did not have time to retreat to their
chairs, and Chase remained standing with his hands on the window-sill,
gazing steadily out into the sugar-field as if he saw something there
that interested him very much, while Wilson, with his hands clasped
behind his back, and his head turned on one side, appeared to be lost in
admiration of a picture that hung on the wall.

The boys stood in these positions until they were aroused by a tap on the
shoulder. They turned to find themselves alone with one of the negroes,
and to see the table spread in front of a window, and loaded with a most
tempting display of viands. They did not wait for a second invitation.
They had taken no breakfast; there was no knowing when and where they
would obtain another meal; and there was no reason why they should go
hungry even if they were in trouble. No one, to have seen them at the
table, would have imagined that they were under any apprehensions of
danger, for the way the eggs and toast disappeared was wonderful; but
in the midst of their enjoyment, and before their appetites were half
appeased, the door was suddenly thrown open and Don Casper entered pale
and breathless.

“The patrol!” he almost gasped. “It is just as I feared it would be. You
have been seen and followed, and if you are found here, I am ruined. No
time is to be lost. Come with me immediately.”

The man spoke so hurriedly and brokenly that the boys could not
understand all he said, and consequently they were at a loss to determine
what the danger was that threatened them. But the expression on the face
of their host warned them that there was something amiss; and without
stopping to ask questions, they caught up their hats and followed him
from the room. As they were hurrying along the hall, they glanced toward
the gate and, through a dense cloud of dust, raised by a multitude of
horses’ hoofs, they caught a partial glimpse of a squadron of troopers
who were galloping into the yard. And these were not the only soldiers
upon the premises, as they found when they reached the door which opened
upon the back verandah. There was another squad of cavalrymen approaching
along the lane that led to the negro quarters. The house was surrounded.

“Gracias á Dios!” ejaculated the Don, turning ghastly pale.

“What’s the matter?” asked Wilson, innocently. “We have done nothing
wrong, and we are not afraid of the patrols.”

“Nothing wrong!” the Don almost shrieked. “Is it nothing to smuggle cases
of arms into a country in a state of rebellion?”

“Cases of arms!” repeated Chase.

“Smuggle!” echoed Wilson. “We know a smuggler, but we never——”

“Don’t stop to talk,” interrupted the Don, almost fiercely; and as he
spoke he seized the boys by their arms, and dragged them along the hall
and down a flight of rickety steps that led into the cellar. Chase and
Wilson, more perplexed than ever, tried to gain his ear for a moment,
but he seemed all of a sudden to have been struck both deaf and dumb,
for he would say nothing or listen to nothing, but hurried them along
through utter darkness, and finally, after giving them both a strong
push, released his hold of them. A moment afterward the boys heard a
door softly closed behind them, and a key turned in a lock. Filled with
consternation, they stood for a few seconds speechless and motionless,
listening intently, and afraid to move for fear of coming in contact with
something in the darkness. Chase was the first to break the silence.

“Well, this beats all the scrapes I ever got into,” said he. “Do you
begin to see through it yet?”

“I believe I do,” replied Wilson. “The last words that old Creole
uttered, explain the matter clearly. He takes us for smugglers, and
imagines that we have come here with a cargo of small-arms.”

“How did he get that impression?” asked Chase, who wanted to see how far
his friend’s opinions coincided with his own.

“Through the note that negro gave him.”

“Who wrote that note?”

“Mr. Bell. He saw us come into the harbor, and he would have been dull
indeed if he could not guess what brought us there. He and his crew
have set themselves at work to outwit us, as they outwitted the revenue
captain in the Cove.”

“And they have accomplished their object, and got us into a pretty mess
besides. They are altogether too smart for us. What’s that?”

The tramping of feet, the rattling of sabres, and the jingling of
spurs sounded from the rooms overhead, telling them that the soldiers
had arrived and were searching the house. Backward and forward passed
the heavy footsteps, and presently they were heard upon the cellar
stairs. The boys listened with curiosity rather than fear, and by the
sounds which came to them from the cellar could tell pretty nearly what
the soldiers were doing. They heard them talking to one another, and
overturning boxes and barrels, and they knew too when the search was
abandoned, and the soldiers returned to the room above.

The young tars did not breathe any easier after they were gone, for
they were not in the least frightened by the proximity of the Spanish
troopers. They were not smugglers, and they could prove the fact to
anybody’s satisfaction. They almost wished they had not permitted the Don
to conceal them, for that of itself looked like a confession of guilt,
and might be used as evidence against them in case they were captured.
The papers, which were safely stowed away in Walter’s desk in the cabin
of the Banner, would show who they were and where they came from, and
a few minutes’ examination of the yacht would prove that there were no
small-arms on board of her. The boys thought of all these things, and
waited impatiently for the Don to come and release them. They wanted to
explain matters to him, if they could by any possibility induce him to
listen.

For fully half an hour the troopers continued to search the house, and
at the end of that time, having satisfied themselves that the boys were
beyond their reach, they mounted their horses and galloped out of the
yard. The young sailors now became more impatient than ever for the Don
to make his appearance, but they waited in vain. They held their breath
and listened, but could not hear a single footstep. The house was as
silent as if it had been deserted. As the hours dragged slowly by without
bringing any one to their relief, the boys became harassed by a new fear,
and that was that the master of the plantation did not intend to release
them—that he was keeping them locked up for some purpose of his own.
Filled with dismay at the thought, they arose from the boxes on which
they had seated themselves, and began moving cautiously about their
prison with extended arms. A few minutes’ examination of the apartment
showed them that it was a wine-cellar, for there were shelves on three
sides of it, which were filled with bottles. On the fourth side was the
door, and that was the only opening in the walls. There was no window to
be found, nor even a crevice large enough to admit a ray of light. There
was no way of escape. Wilson, determined to make the best of the matter,
kept up a tolerably brave heart, but Chase, as was usual with him when in
trouble, became despondent.

“We’re here,” said he, in a gloomy voice, “and here we may remain for the
term of our natural lives, for all we know. If Mr. Bell wrote that note
which we thought came from Walter, I know what object he had in view.
This Don Casper is a friend of his, and now that he has got us in his
power, he is going to hold fast to us.”

“He won’t if he gives us the least chance for our liberty,” said Wilson,
striving to keep up his friend’s courage. “But things may not be as bad
as you think.”

“They are bad enough, are they not? To be thrown as we were, under the
most suspicious circumstances, into the hands of a man we never saw
before, who, without condescending to give us an intelligible explanation
of the motive that prompts his actions, shuts us up in a dark cellar,
and walks off with the key in his pocket, to be gone nobody knows how
long—that is bad enough, but there may be worse things yet to come.
Do you know that we are in a country in which a terrible war is being
carried on?”

“I do.”

“And that both sides are treating their prisoners with the greatest
cruelty; in some cases shooting them?”

“Certainly. Having read the papers, I am not likely to be ignorant of the
fact.”

“Well, now, did it ever strike you that _we_—Eh? You know,” said Chase,
unable to give utterance to the fears that just then passed through his
mind.

“No,” replied Wilson; “it never did.”

“It has struck me that some such thing might happen to us,” continued
Chase, in a trembling voice. “This Creole is a rebel, and thinks we
are friends of his. The Spaniards think so too, for they have searched
the house with the intention of capturing us. If we had fallen into
their hands, might they not have put an end to us without giving us an
opportunity to say a word in our defence, believing as they do that we
are friends of the Cubans?”

“It is possible,” replied Wilson, coolly.

“Gracious! If I had thought of all these things, I never would have had
anything to do with this expedition, I tell you. How would I look, set
up against a brick wall, with half a dozen Spaniards standing in front
of me, ready to shoot me down at the word? I wish I had stayed on Lost
Island and starved there.” And Chase, terrified almost beyond measure by
the picture he had drawn, jumped to his feet, hurried off through the
darkness, and bumped his head severely against the solid oak planks which
formed the door of their prison.

“You are not set up against a brick wall yet, at all events,” said
Wilson, laughing, in spite of himself. “Don’t take on so, old fellow,
or I shall believe you are in a fair way to become a coward. Here’s a
dry-goods box. Let’s lie down on it and try to get a wink of sleep.”

“Sleep!” groaned Chase, holding one hand to his head, and with the other
feeling his way through the darkness, in the direction from which his
companion’s voice sounded; “how can you think of such a thing? Don’t lie
there so still. Wake up and talk to me.”

It was not possible that Chase could ever become a greater coward than
he was at that moment, and he told himself so. The thought that he was
in a strange country, surrounded by men who were in arms against one
another, and that some of them—perhaps the very ones who had perpetrated
the cruelties of which he had read in the papers—had been in that very
house searching for him, was dreadful. It tested his fortitude to the
very utmost. Even the darkness which filled the wine-cellar had terrors
for him, and he hardly dared to move a finger, for fear it might come in
contact with some living thing. For three long hours he sat upon his box,
in a state of terror beyond our power to describe, and all this while,
the plucky Wilson, with a happy indifference to circumstances, which
Chase greatly envied, slumbered heavily.




CHAPTER VIII.

CHASE RISES TO EXPLAIN.


Wilson knew, as well as Chase, that the latter had not overestimated the
dangers of their situation. Cuba was in a state of insurrection, having
declared her independence of Spain. Several battles had been fought
between the rebels and the Spanish troops, and deeds of violence were
daily enacted in every part of the island. Wilson knew all this before
the voyage for Cuba was commenced, but he had never dreamed that he and
the rest of the crew of the yacht could in any way become mixed up in the
troubles. He had set out simply with the intention of assisting to rescue
Fred Craven from the power of the smugglers, and here he was suspected
of being a smuggler himself, and of having in his possession cases of
arms to be delivered to the agents of the Cuban government. Don Casper,
to whose house he had been brought in so strange a manner, thought that
such was his occupation and character, for he had said so; and he had
also hinted that the Spanish troopers suspected them, and that it would
be dangerous to fall into their hands. This was certainly an unlooked
for termination to the expedition upon which he and the members of the
Sportsman’s Club had entered with so much eagerness, and it was enough to
awaken in his mind the most serious misgivings. But he was a courageous
fellow, and knowing that much depended upon keeping up the spirits of
his desponding friend, he affected an indifference that he was very far
from feeling. He slept because he was utterly exhausted by the labor and
excitement he had undergone during the last few days.

Chase was equally wearied by his nights of watching and exposure, but his
fears effectually banished sleep from his eyes. For three long hours, as
we have said, he sat motionless on the dry-goods box, listening intently
and wondering how his captivity was to end, and at the expiration of that
time, he was frightened almost out of his senses by hearing a stealthy
footfall outside the door of the wine-cellar, and the noise of a key
grating in the lock. Utterly unable to speak, he sprang to his feet, and
seizing his slumbering companion by the shoulders, shook him roughly.

“Ay! ay!” replied Wilson, drowsily. “I will be on deck in five minutes.
Is Cuba in sight yet?”

“You are not on board the yacht,” whispered Chase, recovering the use of
his tongue by an effort, “but in the cellar of that old Creole’s house;
and here come the Spaniards to arrest us.”

These words aroused Wilson, who rubbed his eyes and sat up on the
dry-goods box just as the door opened, admitting a muffled figure in
slouch hat and cloak, who carried a lighted lantern in his hand. Chase
looked over the man’s shoulder into the cellar beyond, expecting to see
the troopers of whom he stood so much in fear; but their visitor was
alone, and, if any faith was to be put in his actions, he had come there
with anything but hostile intentions. He held his lantern aloft, and
after gazing at the boys a moment, nodded his head and motioned to them
to follow him. Wilson promptly obeyed, but Chase hung back.

“I am not sure that it will be safe,” said he, doubtfully. “Perhaps we
had better ask him to tell who sent him here, and what he intends to do
with us.”

“Let’s follow him now and listen to his explanation afterward,” replied
Wilson. “I don’t care much what he does with us, so long as he leads us
into the open air. Anything is better than being shut up in this dark
prison.”

Chase was not fully satisfied on that point, but he was not allowed even
a second to consider it. Wilson and their visitor moved off, and finding
that he was about to be left alone in the dark, Chase stepped quickly
out of the wine-cellar and followed them. The man led the way to the
stairs, which he ascended with noiseless footsteps, stopping now and then
to listen, his every movement being imitated by the anxious captives.
They reached the hall, and moved on tiptoe toward the door, which opened
upon the back verandah; but just before they reached it their guide
paused, and after giving each of the boys a warning gesture, raised his
hand and stood pointing silently before him. The young sailors looked,
and their hearts seemed to stop beating when they discovered, stretched
out directly in front of the door, the burly form of one of the Spanish
troopers. He slumbered heavily upon his blanket, one arm thrown over
his head, and the other resting upon his carbine which lay across his
breast. What was to be done now? was the question each of the boys asked
himself, and which was quickly answered by their guide, who, with another
warning gesture, moved forward, and stepping nimbly over the prostrated
sentinel, beckoned to them to follow. Wilson at once responded and
reached the verandah without arousing the sleeper; but it seemed as if
Chase could not muster up courage enough to make the attempt.

“I can’t do it,” he whispered, in reply to Wilson’s gestures of
impatience. “Tell that man to come back and lead me out of the house by
some other door.”

“What good will it do to talk to him?” replied Wilson, in the same
cautious whisper. “It is very evident from his actions that he can’t talk
English; and, besides, if there were any other way to get out, it isn’t
likely that he would have brought us here. I’d show a little pluck, if I
were you. Come on.”

“But what if that soldier should awake and spring up just as I was about
to step over him?” continued Chase, in an ecstasy of alarm. “He’d catch
me, sure.”

“He will catch you if you stay there—you may depend upon that.”

Chase might still have continued to argue the point, had not the actions
of the guide aroused him to a full sense of his situation. The man, who
had been beckoning vehemently to him, suddenly faced about, and tapping
Wilson on the shoulder, started down the steps that led from the verandah
to the ground. Then Chase saw that he must follow or remain a prisoner
in the house. He started and passed the sleeping sentinel in safety; but
his mind was in such a whirl of excitement and terror that to save his
life he could not have told how he did it. When he came to himself he and
Wilson were following close at the heels of their guide, who was leading
the way at a rapid run along the lane that led to the negro quarters.

“I wish I had never seen or heard of the Sportsman’s Club,” panted Chase,
drawing his handkerchief across his forehead, for the exciting ordeal
through which he had just passed, had brought the cold perspiration from
every pore of his body; “I never was in a scrape like this before, and if
I once get out of it you’ll never see me in another. Fred Craven can take
care of himself now; I am going home.”

“When are you going to start?” asked Wilson.

“Just as soon as I reach the village.”

“How are you going?”

“I don’t know, and what’s more, I don’t care. I’ll float there on a plank
before I’ll stay here twenty-four hours longer. There’s another sentry.
He’s awake too, and coming toward us. Which way shall we run now?”

While Chase was speaking a man stepped into view from behind the fence
and hurried toward them; but they soon found that there was no cause for
alarm, for the new-comer was Don Casper himself.

“My lads,” he exclaimed, gleefully, “I am overjoyed to see you once
more, and in possession of your liberty too.” And as he threw aside his
cloak and extended a hand to each of them, the boys saw that he wore a
sword by his side, and that his belt contained a brace of pistols. “This
afternoon’s work has ruined me,” continued the Don, hurriedly. “It was
very wrong in Captain Conway to send you out here in broad daylight,
knowing as he does that I have long been suspected of being a rebel, and
that the patrol were only waiting for some proof against me to arrest me.
They’ve got that proof now, and my property will all be confiscated.”

And now something happened which Wilson had feared and was on the lookout
for—something which came very near placing him and his friend in a
much worse predicament than they had yet got into. It was nothing more
nor less than an effort on the part of Chase to explain matters to the
Don. Wilson had thought over their situation since his release from
the wine-cellar, and he had come to the conclusion that, in the event
of again meeting with their host, it would not be policy to attempt
to correct the wrong impressions he had received concerning them, for
the reason that it might prove a dangerous piece of business. He was
afraid that the Don might not believe their story. In order to make
him understand it, it would be necessary to go back to the day of the
panther hunt, and describe what had then taken place between Bayard Bell
and the members of the Sportsman’s Club. That would consume a good deal
of time, and there would be some things to tell that would look very
unreasonable; and perhaps the Don would do as the captain of the revenue
cutter had done—declare that it was all false. He would very likely think
that the boys were trying to deceive him, and he might even go so far
as to believe that they were in sympathy with the Spaniards, and that
they had been employed by them to come to his house in the character of
smugglers, on purpose to give the patrol an excuse for arresting him.
This thought was enough to cause even the plucky Wilson some anxiety, and
the longer he pondered upon it the more alarmed he became.

“We haven’t seen the worst of it yet, I am afraid,” he soliloquized. “We
are in a much worse predicament than I thought. There will certainly be
an explosion if the Don finds out that we are not the fellows he takes
us for, and perhaps he’ll he mad enough to smash things. He’s got a good
opinion of us now, and it would be foolish to say anything to change it.
Our best plan will be to keep our mouths closed, and to get away from him
without loss of time. If I only knew who wrote the note that negro gave
him and what was in it, I would know just how to act.”

Wilson waited for an opportunity to talk this plan over with Chase, but
did not find it, for the reason that the Don made his appearance too
quickly. The only course then left for him to pursue was to do all the
talking himself, and allow his companion no chance to speak; but the
latter was too smart for him, and with a dozen words brought about the
very state of affairs that Wilson had hoped to guard against.

“You must not blame us for your misfortune,” said Chase.

“I do not. It is Captain Conway’s fault.”

“He did not send us here—that is, we did not come by his orders. We are
not smugglers, and neither have we any arms for you.”

“Eh?” exclaimed the Don.

“We don’t belong to the Stella, either. We came here in a private yacht,
on our own private business, and know nothing about your transactions
with Captain Conway.”

“Gracias á Dios!” cried the Cuban; and the words came out from between
his clenched teeth in a way that Chase did not like.

“Hold easy. Don’t get angry until you hear my explanation. Remember that
we have not tried to sail under false colors, since we have been here at
your house. You did not ask us who we were, did you? If you had given us
the opportunity, we should have been glad to have appeared before you in
our true characters, and to have explained the reason for our visit.”

Having thus introduced his subject, Chase cleared his throat, thrust
his hands into his pockets, and began a hurried and rather disconnected
account of the events which had brought them to Cuba. The Don stood like
a man in a dream. He was not listening to what the young sailor said,
but was pondering upon some words he had uttered a few moments before.
Suddenly he interrupted him.

“Your true character!” he exclaimed furiously. “Enough! That is all I
wish to hear from you. I suspected you from the first. You have told me
who you are _not_, and now I shall ascertain for myself who you _are_.
The Stella is at the village, I know, for one of my negroes saw her
there. I shall introduce you into the presence of Captain Conway before
you are an hour older; and when he sees you, he will probably be able to
tell me whether or not you came here by his orders. If he cannot vouch
for you, you will find yourselves in serious trouble, I can tell you. I
am now going to the stable after some horses, and you and your companion
will move up into the shadow of this storehouse and remain there, until I
return, under the eye of my overseer, whom I shall instruct to shoot you
down if you make the least attempt at escape.”

Chase listened to this speech in utter amazement. His under jaw dropped
down, and for a few seconds he stood gazing stupidly at the Don, who
turned and began an earnest conversation in Spanish with his overseer—the
man who had released the boys from the wine-cellar. At last he recovered
himself in some measure, and made a bungling attempt to repair the damage
he had done.

“I say, Don!” he exclaimed, “now you are laboring under another mistake,
quite as bad as the first. You take us for Spanish sympathizers—I know
you do, but we are not. We’ve got no interest in this fight, and we don’t
care which whips. I mean—you know—of course you Cubans are in the right,
and we hope you will succeed in establishing your independence. I wish we
had a whole cargo of arms for you, but we haven’t. I wish the Banner was
loaded so deep with them that she was on the point of sinking, but she
isn’t. O dear! I wish he would stop talking to that man and listen to me.
I could set everything right in a few minutes. Speak to him, Wilson.”

But his friend paid as little attention to him as the Don did. He stood
narrowly watching the two men, and although he could not understand a
word of their conversation, he knew pretty nearly what they were talking
about. It was plain enough to him, too, that the overseer was as angry at
them as his master was. He raised his lantern to allow its beams to fall
full in their faces, scowled fiercely at each of them in turn, and then
throwing aside his cloak and laying his hand on the butt of one of his
pistols, motioned to them to follow him to the storehouse. As they obeyed
the gesture, the Don hurried down the lane, not however without stopping
long enough to tell the captives that the overseer was a good shot, and
that an attempt to run away from him would be dangerous.

Never was a boy more astounded and alarmed than Chase was at that moment.
Reaching the storehouse, he flung himself on the ground beside it in a
state of utter dejection and misery. He looked at Wilson, who seated
himself by his side, but even had there been light enough for him to see
the expression that rested on the face of his friend, he would have found
no encouragement there. Wilson was almost disheartened himself. Things
looked even darker now than when they were confined in the wine-cellar—a
state of affairs for which his companion was alone to blame. But Wilson
had no fault to find. The mischief was done and could not be undone; and
like a sensible fellow, he determined to make the best of it, and say
nothing about it.

“Don’t I wish I had never seen or heard of the Sportsman’s Club!” said
Chase, feebly. “I wonder if that overseer understands English? Try him,
Wilson. I want to say something to you.”

Wilson, for want of something better to do, addressed a few words to
their guard, who stood close at their side, keeping a sharp eye on their
movements, but he only shook his head, and threw aside his cloak to show
his pistols.

“I think you may speak freely,” said Wilson. “What were you going to say?”

“We’re in trouble again,” replied Chase.

“O! Is that all? It’s no news.”

“I wish I had not tried to explain matters.”

“So do I.”

“Is there nothing we can do? Let’s jump up and take to our heels. I’ll
risk the bullets in the overseer’s pistols, if you will.”

“What’s the use? Where shall we run to?”

“To town, of course. We want to go back to the yacht, don’t we?”

“Certainly. But if we wait a few minutes, the Don will bring us some
horses, and then we can ride there. That will be much easier than
walking, and safer too; for not knowing the way, we might get lost in the
darkness, or run against some of the patrols on the road.”

“Do you intend to go to town with the Don?” asked Chase, in great
amazement.

“I do.”

“Well, if you don’t beat all the fellows I ever heard of! You have
certainly taken leave of your senses. Don’t you know that Captain Conway
and Mr. Bell will do all they can to strengthen the Don’s suspicions?”

“You didn’t hear me through. We don’t want to see either of those worthy
gentlemen, if we can avoid it. We will go with the Don, simply because we
can’t help ourselves, and perhaps during the ride he will get over his
mad fit, so that we can talk to him. If he does, we will tell him our
story from beginning to end, and ask him to go aboard the Banner with us.
Walter and the other fellows must have returned by this time, and when
the Don finds that their story agrees with ours, and sees the yacht’s
papers, perhaps he will believe us. If he don’t, let’s see him help
himself. We’ll be on board our vessel then, and we’ll stay there.”

“Yes. That’s all very nice. But suppose the Banner isn’t there? What
then?”

“Eh?” exclaimed Wilson.

“Those deserters may have returned and run off with her during our
absence. What would you do in that case?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t calculating on that.”

“And what will the Don do?” continued Chase. “If we tell him that we
shall find our yacht at the wharf and she happens to be gone, he will
have more reason to suspect us than he does now.”

Wilson looked at his companion, and then settling back against the
storehouse, went off into a brown study; while Chase, after waiting a few
minutes for him to say something, sprang to his feet, and began pacing
nervously back and forth. Just then, an incident happened which created
a diversion in favor of the two boys, and which they were prompt to take
advantage of, only in different ways.




CHAPTER IX.

WILSON RUNS A RACE.


The diversion of which we have spoken was caused by the sound of
stealthy footsteps, and an indistinct murmur of voices which came from
the opposite side of the storehouse. Somebody was coming down the lane.
Believing that it was the Don returning with the horses, Wilson arose
slowly to his feet and stood awaiting the orders of the guard, while
Chase stopped his walk and looked first one way and then the other,
as if he were going to run off as soon as he could make up his mind
which direction to take. The actions of the overseer, however, seemed
to indicate that there was some one besides the Don approaching—some
one whom he had not been expecting and whom he did not care to see. He
stood for a few seconds listening to the footsteps and voices, and then
moving quickly into the shadow of the storehouse, crouched close to the
ground, muttering Spanish ejaculations and acting altogether as if he
were greatly perplexed. His behavior did not escape the notice of Wilson,
and it at once suggested to him the idea of escape. His first impulse
was to rush out of his concealment and throw himself upon the protection
of the new-comers; but sober second thought stepped in and told him
that it would be a good plan to first ascertain who they were. He moved
to the corner of the storehouse, and looking up the lane, saw four men
approaching. They were dressed like sailors—he could see their wide
trowsers and jaunty hats, dark as it was—and he noticed that two of them
carried handspikes on their shoulders. They were so near to him that he
was afraid to move lest he should attract their attention, and they came
still nearer to him with every step they took. They were directing their
course toward the storehouse, talking earnestly as they approached, and
presently some startling words, uttered by a familiar voice, fell upon
his ear.

“I tell you this is the house. I guess I know what I am about. When I
first discovered it the negroes belonging to the plantation were gathered
here in a crowd, and a white man was serving them with corn-meal and
bacon. All we’ve got to do is to bust open this door, and we’ll find
provisions enough to last us on a cruise around the world. Now, Bob, I
want you to clap a stopper on that jaw of yours and hush your growling.
If I don’t take you safely to Havana, I’ll agree to sign over to you all
the prize money I win in that privateer.”

“I ain’t growling about that,” replied another familiar voice. “I don’t
like the idea of stealing private yachts and running away with them. It
looks too much like piracy.”

“Well, it can’t be helped now. The Banner is ours, and the best thing we
can do is to use her while we’ve got her. Give me that handspike and I’ll
soon open this door. Keep your weather eyes open, the rest of you.”

Wilson listened as if fascinated; and when the conversation ceased, and
the door began to creak and groan as the handspike was brought to bear
upon it, he thrust his head farther around the corner of the storehouse,
and at the imminent risk of being seen by the men, who were scarcely more
than four feet distant, took a good survey of the group. His ears had not
deceived him. The men who had thus unexpectedly intruded their presence
upon him, were none other than Tomlinson and the rest of the deserters
from the revenue cutter. He could distinctly see every one of them.
Tomlinson was engaged in breaking open the door of the storehouse, and
the others stood a little farther off, some looking up and the rest down
the lane.

“Now here’s a go,” thought Wilson, so excited that he scarcely knew what
he was about. “Them fellows have stolen the Banner, and are preparing to
supply themselves with provisions for their voyage to Havana. What will
become of us if we don’t get that boat back again? They shan’t have her.
We’ll slip away from this overseer and turn their triumph into defeat
before they are ten minutes older.”

Wilson turned to look at the guard. The man was standing close behind
him, and seemed to be awaiting the result of his investigations. Acting
upon a resolution he had suddenly formed, the young sailor stepped aside,
and motioned to him to look around the corner of the building. The man
complied, and no sooner was his back turned, than Wilson ran swiftly, but
noiselessly, along the side of the storehouse, looking everywhere for
Chase; but the latter was not in sight. Greatly surprised at his sudden
disappearance, and almost ready to doubt the evidence of his eyes, he
glanced along the building again and again, and even spoke his friend’s
name as loudly as he dared, but without receiving any response.

“He has watched his chance and taken himself off,” thought Wilson. “I’ll
soon find him, and if we don’t upset the plans of Tomlinson and his crew,
I shall miss my guess. Good-by, Mr. Overseer! When the Don returns and
asks where your prisoners are, you may tell him you don’t know.”

So saying, Wilson dodged around the corner of the storehouse, and struck
off toward the beach with all the speed he could command.

And where was Chase all this time? If Wilson had known the reason for his
disappearance, he would not have had a very high opinion of his friend.
That worthy had been thinking deeply since his last conversation with
Wilson, and had at length hit upon what he conceived to be a remarkably
brilliant plan for extricating himself from his troubles.

“The expedition is a failure—that’s plain enough to be seen,” he had said
to himself; “and instead of trying to rescue Fred Craven, it strikes
me that it would be a good plan to look out for our own safety. I am
not going back to town with the Don, and the only way to avoid it is to
desert. Yes, sir, that’s just what I’ll do. I shall be much safer alone
than in the company of such fellows as this Wilson and Walter Gaylord,
who are continually getting themselves and others into trouble, and I’ll
see home before they do, I’ll warrant. I’ll get out of Cuba, at any rate.
I’ll ship aboard the first vessel that leaves port, I don’t care if she
takes me to South America.”

It never occurred to Chase, while he was congratulating himself upon
this idea, that, in carrying it into execution, he would be making a
very poor return for Wilson’s kindness and friendship. He forgot the
fidelity with which the latter had clung to him through thick and thin,
and the assistance he had rendered him in inducing Walter Gaylord to
interest himself in his affairs. All he thought of was his own safety.
The approach of the deserters was a most fortunate thing for him, for it
gave him the very opportunity he was waiting for. He heard the voices
and the footsteps, and the alarm the sounds at first produced gave way
to a feeling of exultation, when he saw Wilson and the overseer move
cautiously toward the opposite end of the storehouse. Had he waited a
minute longer he might have escaped in company with his friend, and saved
himself a good many exciting adventures which we have yet to relate;
but the guard with his dreaded pistols was at the farther end of the
building, and the chance was too good to be lost. He sprang around the
corner of the storehouse, and in an instant was out of sight in the
darkness.

Wilson, little dreaming what had become of him, pursued his way with
rapid footsteps across the field toward the beach, taking care to keep
the negro quarters between him and the men at the storehouse. He kept
his eyes roving through the darkness in every direction, in the hope of
discovering Chase, but was disappointed.

“He can’t be far away, and when I come up with him, I will tell him
how we can beat these deserters at their own game,” chuckled the young
sailor, highly elated over the plans he had formed. “If they came here
in the Banner, she must be at anchor somewhere along the beach. As there
are but four of them, and they are all at the storehouse, it follows as a
thing of course that they must have left the yacht unguarded. It will be
the easiest thing in the world to swim off to her, hoist the sails, and
put to sea before they know what is going on. I declare, there’s Chase
now, and the yacht, too! Hurrah!”

Wilson had by this time arrived within sight of the little bay, which
set into the shore at this place, and just then, the rays of the moon,
struggling through a rift in the clouds, gave him a fair view of the
scene before him. The first object his eyes rested upon was the yacht,
riding at anchor about a quarter of a mile from the shore. The next, was
a stone jetty extending out into the water, beside which were moored
several boats. In one of them a sail was hoisted. This was probably the
one which the deserters intended to use to convey the stolen provisions
on board the yacht. The third object was a human figure, standing on
the beach near the jetty. He wore a cloak and a slouch hat, and Wilson
thought he recognised in him his missing friend, although he at the same
time wondered how he had come by the articles named, for he certainly
had not worn them the last time he saw him. Hearing the sound of his
approach, the figure stepped upon the jetty and moved nervously about, as
if undecided whether to take to his heels or wait until he came up.

“Don’t be alarmed, Chase; it is I,” exclaimed Wilson, as soon as he came
within speaking distance. “What possessed you to run off without saying
a word to me? It is only by good luck that I have found you again. Do
you see what those deserters have been doing?” he added, pointing to the
yacht. “Let’s get into one of these boats and take possession of her
before they return. We’ve got the best right to her.”

Wilson, who had shouted out these words as he approached the figure,
was a good deal surprised at the manner in which his proposition was
received. It did not meet with the ready response he had expected, for
the figure, whoever he was, remained perfectly motionless and said
nothing. That was not at all like Chase, and Wilson began to believe
there was something wrong somewhere. He stopped a few feet from the
figure, and peering sharply at him, discovered, to his great surprise,
that the slouch hat covered a face that did not at all resemble his
friend’s. It was a bearded face—an evil face—a face that was quite
familiar to him, and which he had hoped never to see again.

“Pierre!” he exclaimed, in alarm.

“’Tain’t nobody else,” was the reply.

For the next few seconds, the two stood looking at one another without
speaking—Wilson wondering what was to be done now, and trying in vain to
find some explanation for the smuggler’s presence there, and the latter
evidently enjoying the boy’s bewilderment.

“What are you doing on this plantation?” asked the young sailor, breaking
the silence at last.

“I might ask you the same question, I reckon. We thought you were
captured by the Spaniards long ago. That’s what we sent you out here for.”

“_We?_ Who are we?”

“Mr. Bell, Captain Conway, and the rest of us.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Wilson, so indignant at this avowal that he forgot all
his fear; “then Chase and I were right in our surmises. Well, your little
plans didn’t work, did they? But you have not yet told me what you are
doing here. How came you in company with these deserters; and how did you
get possession of the yacht?”

“That’s Mr. Bell’s business.”

“So, he had something to do with it, had he? I thought as much. Where are
Walter and the rest of the fellows?”

“We left them somewhere about the village.”

“Where have you started for—Havana?”

“That’s another thing that don’t interest you.”

“Yes, it does. I know you are going there, and that you will start as
soon as Tomlinson comes back with the provisions. Will you take me with
you?”

“Not much. We’ve got all the crew we want.”

“Why, Pierre!” exclaimed Wilson, “you surely do not mean to leave me
here? I am all alone. Chase has left me, and I haven’t seen Walter and
the rest of the fellows since four o’clock this afternoon.”

“Well, I can’t help that, can I?”

“How am I to get home, if you go away in the Banner?”

“That’s your lookout.”

“Now, what have I done to you, that you should treat me in this way?”

“You have been meddling with our business—that’s what you have done,”
answered Pierre, fiercely. “You ought to have stayed in Bellville, while
you were there, and attended to your own concerns. We don’t care whether
or not you ever get back.”

Wilson, with an air of utter dejection, seated himself on the jetty,
while Pierre, who took a savage delight in tormenting the boy, thrust
his hands into his pockets and began pacing back and forth on the beach.
The crew of the yacht had caused the smugglers considerable anxiety, and
they had shown so much courage and perseverance in their pursuit of the
Stella, that they had raised the ire of every one of her company, and
Pierre was glad of this opportunity to obtain some slight satisfaction;
but had he known all that was passing in the boy’s mind, he would have
found that he had even more spirit and determination to deal with than he
imagined. Wilson was only playing a part. He was firm in his resolution
to recover the yacht, but knowing that he could not cope with Pierre
openly, he resorted to strategy. By pretending to be completely cowed by
the smuggler’s fierce words and manner, he had thrown the latter off his
guard; and when he walked past him and took his seat on the jetty, Pierre
did not raise any objections. By this manœuvre, Wilson gained a position
between the man and the nearest boat, which happened to be the one with
the sail hoisted. That was the first step accomplished. The next was to
draw Pierre’s attention to something, if it were only for a moment, until
he could run to the boat, cast off the painter, and fill away for the
yacht. He was not long in hitting upon a plan.

“I know what I shall do,” said he, at length. “I’ll stay here until
Tomlinson comes, and ask him if he won’t take me aboard the Banner.”

“I can tell you now that he won’t do it,” replied Pierre.

“I don’t care; I’ll ask him, any way. If I can only go to Havana, that’s
all I want. I shall be able to find some vessel there bound for the
States. He’s coming now.”

Pierre paused in his walk and looked toward the plantation house, but
could see nothing. He listened, but all he heard was the roar of the surf
on the beach.

“I can hear them,” continued Wilson, rising to his feet; “and they’re in
trouble too. They’re running and shouting. There! did you hear that gun?”

Pierre listened again, and then walked a few steps up the beach to get a
little farther away from the surf. A moment later he heard the sound of
rapid footfalls, and turned quickly to see Wilson flying along the jetty
toward the boat.

[Illustration: THE RACE FOR THE YACHT.]

“Stop!” he roared, springing forward in pursuit the instant he divined
the boy’s intention. “You are not going aboard that yacht.”

“That depends upon whether I do or not,” shouted Wilson, in reply.

The race that followed was short but highly exciting. Wilson sped along
as swiftly as a bird on the wing, scarcely seeming to touch the ground;
while the clumsy Pierre puffed and blowed like a high pressure steamboat;
and finding that he was encumbered by his heavy cloak, threw it aside,
and even discarded his hat; but all to no purpose. Wilson made such good
use of his time that he succeeded in reaching the boat and jumping into
it, before his pursuer came up; but there his good fortune seemed to end.
He could not cast off the painter. One end of it was passed around one
of the thwarts, and the other made fast to a ring in the jetty, and both
knots were jammed so that he could not undo them. He pulled, and tugged,
and panted in vain. He felt for his knife to cut the rope, but could
not find it. As a last resort he seized the thwart with both hands, and
exerting all his strength, wrenched it loose from its fastenings, and
threw it overboard, at the same time placing his shoulder against the
jetty, and with a strong push, sending the boat from the shore. With a
cry of triumph he seized the sheet which was flapping in the wind, passed
it around a cleat with one hand and seized the tiller with the other. The
boat began to gather headway, but just a moment too late. Pierre, all
out of breath, and full of rage, now came up, and seeing that the boy
was about to escape him, threw himself, without an instant’s hesitation,
headlong into the water. He fell just astern of the boat, and although
Wilson hauled hard on the sheet, and crowded her until she stood almost
on her side, he could not make her go fast enough to get out of the man’s
reach. He made a blind clutch as he arose to the surface, and fastened
with a firm grip upon the rudder.

“Now, then!” exclaimed Pierre, fiercely, “I reckon you’ll stop, won’t
you?”

Wilson was frightened, but he did not lose his presence of mind. Had he
spent even a second in considering what ought to be done, his capture
would have been certain, for the smuggler clung to the rudder with one
hand, and stretched out the other to seize the stern of the boat.

“Pierre,” said the boy, “if you want that piece of wood, you may have it.
I can get along without it.” And with a quick movement he unshipped the
rudder, and the boat flew on, leaving it in the man’s grasp.

The little craft, now being without a steering apparatus, quickly fell
off and lost headway, and Pierre, with a loud yell of rage, threw away
the rudder and struck out vigorously, expecting to overtake her; but
Wilson seized the sheet in his teeth, picked up one of the oars that lay
under the thwarts, dropped the blade into the water, and in less time
than it takes to tell it, the boat was again under control, and rapidly
leaving Pierre behind.

“There, sir!” said Wilson; “I did it, but I wouldn’t go through the same
thing again to be made an admiral. I’ve got the yacht in my undisputed
possession, or shall have in a few minutes, and what shall I do with her?
Shall I lay off and on and make signals for Chase, or shall I go back to
the village after Walter and the other fellows? Come on, old boy! I am
well out of your reach.”

This last remark was addressed to Pierre, who, having been washed ashore
by the surf, had run to one of the boats that were moored to the jetty,
and was hoisting a sail, preparatory to pursuing Wilson. This movement
caused the young sailor no uneasiness. He had a long start, and he knew
that he could reach the yacht, slip the anchor, and get under way before
Pierre could come up. He kept one eye on the man, and pondered upon
the questions he had just asked himself; but before he had come to any
decision, he found himself alongside the yacht. As he rounded to under
her bow, he thought he heard a slight movement on her deck. He listened
intently, but the sound was not repeated; and after a little hesitation,
he placed his hands upon the rail, drew himself up and looked over. He
saw no one, but he soon found that that was no proof there was no one
there, for, as he sprang upon the yacht’s deck, and ran forward to slip
the anchor, his feet were suddenly pulled from under him, and he fell
forward on his face. Before he could move or cry out, some one threw
himself across his shoulders, and seizing both his hands, pinned them to
the deck.




CHAPTER X.

A LUCKY FALL.


“Are we not in luck for once in our lives? Who would have thought that
the storm which blew us so far out of our course, was destined to prove
an advantage instead of a hindrance to us?”

“Not I, for one, but I can see it now. If we had gone to Havana, as we
intended, we should never have seen the Stella again, or Featherweight
either. Now that we have found him, what is the next thing to be done?”

“We’ll talk about that as we go along, and keep them in sight until we
have decided upon a plan of action. There they go over the hill. Let’s
hurry on, for we must allow them no chance to give us the slip.”

This conversation was carried on by Walter and Perk, as they ran up the
hill in pursuit of Fred Craven, whom they had seen going toward the
village in company with Mr. Bell and Captain Conway. They knew it was
Fred, and they knew too that he saw them, and was aware that they were
following him, for once, just before he disappeared from their sight, he
drew his handkerchief from his pocket and waved it in the air behind him.
The movement was executed with but little attempt at concealment; but,
although the Captain and Mr. Bell must certainly have seen it, they made
no effort to check it.

As we have seen, from the few words that passed between them, the young
sailors had left the yacht without any very definite object in view. They
wanted to assist Fred Craven, if the opportunity were presented, but just
how they were going to set about it they could not tell. Should they
hurry on, and when they came up with him demand his release; or should
they wait and see what his captors were going to do with him? While they
were talking the matter over, the objects of their pursuit disappeared
over the brow of the hill, and that was the last they saw of them,
although they at once quickened their pace to a run, and in a few seconds
were standing on the very spot where they had last seen them. They looked
in every direction, but the men and their captive had vanished. Before
them was a wide and level road, leading through the village and into
the plain beyond, and they could see every moving thing in it for the
distance of a mile. There were people there in abundance, but none among
them who looked like Fred Craven and his keepers. Where could they have
gone so suddenly?

“Now this beats everything I ever heard of,” said Walter in great
bewilderment. “We are not dreaming, are we?”

“No sir,” replied Perk, emphatically. “I was never more fully awake than
I am at this moment. There’s some trick at the bottom of this.”

“What in the world is it?”

“I should be glad to tell you if I knew. You take one side of the street,
and I’ll take the other. Don’t waste time now, but be careful to look
into every shop and behind every house you pass.”

Walter, prompt to act upon the suggestion, set off at the top of his
speed, followed by Perk, who, although equally anxious to get over a
good deal of ground in the shortest possible space of time, conducted
his search with more care. Had the former looked into one of the
cross-streets past which he hurried with such frantic haste, he might,
perhaps, have caught a partial glimpse of the burly form of Captain
Conway standing in a doorway; and had he approached him he would have
found Mr. Bell and Featherweight standing close behind him. But he did
not know this, and neither was he aware that as soon as he and Perk
passed on down the street, the master of the smuggling vessel came
cautiously from his place of concealment, and looking around the corner
of a house, watched them until they were two hundred yards away. But the
Captain did this, and more. Having satisfied himself that the young tars
had been eluded, he returned to the doorway and held a short conversation
with Mr. Bell. When it was ended, that gentleman hurried off out of
sight, and the Captain, drawing Fred’s arm through his own, conducted
him along the cross-street and through lanes and by-ways back to the
wharf, and on board a vessel—not the Stella, but a large ship, which, if
one might judge by the hustle and confusion on her deck, was just on the
point of sailing. As he and his captive boarded her, they were met by the
master of the vessel who, without saying a word, led them into his cabin
and showed them an open state-room. Without any ceremony Fred was pushed
into it, the door closed and the key turned in the lock.

“There,” said Captain Conway, with a sigh of relief, “he is disposed of
at last. If any of those Banner fellows can find him now, I should like
to see them do it. Mr. Bell’s been in this business too long to be beaten
by a lot of little boys.”

This was only a part of Mr. Bell’s plan; and while it was being carried
into execution, some other events, a portion of which we have already
described, were taking place in the harbor. The mate of the smuggling
vessel visited the yacht, and after enticing Tomlinson and the rest of
the deserters on board the Stella by the promise of a good breakfast,
and a pipe to smoke after it, and starting off Wilson and his companion
on a wild-goose chase, by sending them a note purporting to come from
Walter, had cleared the coast so that he could carry out the rest of his
employer’s scheme without let or hindrance. The first thing he did was
to convey some bales and boxes containing arms, ammunition and military
trappings, on board the yacht—for what purpose we shall see presently—and
his second to secure possession of Walter’s clearance papers. When these
things had been done, the mate returned on board the Stella and received
some more instructions from Mr. Bell; after which he came out of the
cabin and joined the deserters who were in the forecastle, discussing
the breakfast that had been prepared for them. By adroit questioning he
finally obliged Tomlinson to confess what he had all along suspected—that
he and his companions belonged to the United States revenue service, and
that they had deserted their vessel and stolen a passage across the Gulf,
with the intention of shipping aboard a Cuban privateer. When the mate
had found out all he wanted to know, he left them with the remark that
there was a privateer lying off Havana, all ready to sail as soon as she
had shipped a crew, and that if the deserters wanted to find her they
had better start at once. He added that they might waste a good deal of
valuable time if they waited for a vessel to take them to the city, and
that the best thing for them to do would be to steal a small sailboat.
There were plenty of them about the harbor. Havana was only a hundred
miles away, and with a fair wind they could sail there in a few hours.
If they adopted that plan, they had better wait until dark in order to
escape the vigilance of the Spanish officials, who boarded all vessels,
even skiffs, as they entered and left the port.

“What have you fellows got to say to that?” asked Tomlinson, as soon as
the officer had ascended to the deck. “The mate’s plan agrees with mine
exactly, and that proves that it is worth trying. We will go back and
take the Banner as soon as we have finished our breakfast. _I_ am going,
at least, and I’d like to know who is with me. Speak up!”

All the deserters spoke up except Bob. He grumbled as usual, and had
some objections to offer. “Tom,” said he, “you haven’t yet answered the
question I asked you once before: who’s going to navigate the vessel? You
can’t do it.”

“Can’t I? What’s the reason? All we’ve got to do is to follow the coast.”

“And get lost or wrecked for our pains! No, thankee. And there’s another
thing you haven’t thought of. We shall want some clearance papers, and
how are we going to get ’em? That officer who boarded us as we came in
will be sure to visit us again. The mate said so.”

“We’re going to give him the slip.”

“But suppose we can’t do it? What if he sees us and hails us?”

“We won’t stop, that’s all. He goes around in a row-boat, and the yacht
will easily run away from her.”

“You forget that there are two men of war in the harbor, and a fort on
the point. I don’t care to run the fire of a hundred guns in such a craft
as the Banner. Put me on board the old gunboat Cairo, if she was as
good as before she was sunk by that rebel torpedo in Yazoo river, and I
wouldn’t mind it.”

“We’re not going to run the fire of a hundred guns, or one either,”
replied Tomlinson. “I’ll tell you just how we will manage it. We’ll take
the Banner at once; that’s the first thing to be done. Then we’ll run
her over to the other side of the harbor—there are no wharves there, you
know—and anchor off shore until dark, when we will make sail and slip
out; and no one will be the wiser for it.”

“But we shall want something to eat,” persisted Bob. “There isn’t a
mouthful on board the yacht. We may meet with head winds, you know, and
be a week reaching Havana.”

“Haven’t I told you that it will be the easiest thing in the world to
land somewhere on the coast and steal some grub?” demanded Tomlinson,
losing all patience.

“So it will, mate, and I know just where to get it,” said a strange
voice, in a suppressed whisper above their heads.

The deserters, not a little alarmed to find that their conversation had
been overheard, glanced quickly upward and saw a man crouching at the top
of the ladder and looking down at them. It was Pierre, who having thus
addressed them, made a gesture of silence, and after looking all around
the deck as if fearful of being seen, crept down the ladder into the
forecastle.

“Don’t be alarmed, lads,” he continued, in a hurried whisper. “I heard
what you said, because I couldn’t well help it, being at work close by
the hatchway, and you talked louder than you thought, I reckon. If you
will let me, I will strike hands with you. I have been watching all day
for a chance to desert this craft, for I want to join that privateer
myself. If I can do that, I shall be a rich man in less than six months.
I like your plans, and will help you carry them out. Now is the best time
in the world to capture that yacht, for there is nobody on board of her.
I know just where to find the privateer, and, while we are on the way, I
will show you where we can get all the grub we want.”

Pierre rattled off this speech as if he had learned it by heart—as indeed
he had, his teacher being none other than Mr. Bell—and spoke so rapidly
that his auditors could not have crowded a word in edgewise if they had
tried. When he finished, he seated himself on one of the berths and
looked inquiringly from one to the other, waiting for their answer. It
was not given at once, for Bob and his two companions were not disposed
to advance an opinion until they had heard what their leader had to say;
and the latter, surprised and disconcerted by Pierre’s sudden appearance
and his unexpected offer of assistance, wanted time, to collect his wits
and propound a few inquiries. He wanted to know who Pierre was; how long
he had been on board the Stella; if he was certain there was a privateer
lying off Havana waiting for a crew; how he had found out that she was
there, and all that. The smuggler gave satisfactory replies to these
questions, and then Tomlinson extended his hand, and told him that he
was glad to see him. Their new acquaintance, being thus admitted into
their confidence, helped himself to a piece of hard-tack, and during the
conversation that followed succeeded in convincing the deserters that he
was just the man they wanted; he knew how things ought to be managed in
order to insure complete success. So certain was Tomlinson of this fact
that, with the consent of his companions, he offered Pierre the command
of the party, and agreed to be governed by his orders.

“Well, then,” said Pierre, “it is all settled, and the sooner we are on
the move the better. If you have finished your breakfast, go out on the
wharf and wait for me. I will be on hand as soon as I can find a chance
to leave the vessel without being seen.”

The deserters accordingly left the forecastle, and as soon as they were
out of sight Pierre followed them to the deck and entered the cabin,
where he found Mr. Bell. After a few minutes’ interview with that
gentleman, he came out again, holding in his hands a roll of bills, which
he showed to the mate whom he met at the top of the companion ladder. He
was now about to carry out the rest of Mr. Bell’s plan, and the money he
carried in his hand was the reward for his services.

In order to keep up appearances, and make the deserters, who were
watching him from the wharf, believe that he was really leaving the
vessel without the knowledge of her crew, Pierre, after gathering up
some of his clothes, walked carelessly about the deck until the mate’s
back was turned, and then vaulting over the rail, ran quickly behind a
pile of cotton bales on the wharf; and having joined Tomlinson and the
rest, led the way to the place where the Banner lay. They boarded the
little vessel as if they had a perfect right to be there, and without any
delay began hoisting the sails. While thus engaged Tomlinson happened to
look up the harbor, and to his great disgust discovered Eugene and Bab
hurrying along the wharf.

“What’s to be done now, captain?” he asked, directing Pierre’s attention
to the two boys. “There come some of them young sea-monkeys, and we can’t
get under way before they board us. They’re always around when they are
not wanted.”

Pierre’s actions, upon hearing these words, not a little surprised
Tomlinson. He took just one glance at the young sailors, and then
springing to the fore-hatch, lowered himself quickly into the galley.
There he stopped long enough to give a few brief and hurried orders to
the deserters, one of whom also jumped down into the galley, while the
others went on with the work of hoisting the sails. A few minutes later,
Eugene and Bab crossed the deck of the brig that lay between the yacht
and the wharf, and appeared at the rail.

“What’s going on here?” demanded the former, angrily. “It seems to me,
Tomlinson, that you are taking a good many liberties on so short an
acquaintance. I was in hopes I had seen the last of you. Drop those
halliards.”

“Of course I will, if you say so, because you are one of the owners of
the yacht,” replied the sailor. “But we have orders from the lieutenant
to get under way at once.”

“From Chase?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where is he?” asked Bab.

“He’s below, and Wilson has gone out to look for you.”

“Has Walter returned yet?”

“Yes. He is in the cabin now.”

“Why is he getting under way, and where is he starting for?” inquired
Eugene, as he and Bab swung themselves over the brig’s rail and dropped
upon the deck of their vessel.

“I don’t exactly know. There’s been something exciting going on here. He
will tell you all about it.”

“Did Walter bring any one with him when he came back?”

“Yes; another boy.”

“What’s his name—Fred Craven?” demanded Bab and Eugene, in a breath.

“I don’t know. Never saw or heard of him before. He’s a little
fellow—about as big as a marline-spike.”

“That’s Featherweight!” cried Eugene.

“I know it is,” shouted Bab. “Hurrah for our side.”

Without waiting to ask any more questions, the two boys bounded toward
the door of the cabin, each one striving to outrun the other, and to
be the first to greet the long-lost secretary. Bab took the lead, and
a fortunate thing it was for Eugene. The latter, in his haste, caught
his foot in one of the foresail halliards, and was sent headlong to the
deck, while Bab kept on, and jumping into the standing room, pushed open
the door of the cabin; but he did not enter. He stopped short on the
threshold and stood there motionless, until a brawny hand fastened upon
the collar of his jacket and jerked him through the door.

Eugene quickly recovered his feet, and arrived within sight of the
entrance to the cabin just an instant after Bab disappeared. He too
paused, amazed at what he saw. The first thing he noticed, was that the
lock had been forced from the door (Chase had locked it before leaving
the yacht, and Pierre had used a handspike to open it), and that would
have aroused a suspicion of treachery in his mind, even had he not seen
Bab struggling in the grasp of two men, both of whom he recognised. One
was Bob, and the other was Pierre. Eugene stooped down and looked into
the cabin, and seeing that there was no one there except the two ruffians
and their prisoner, comprehended the situation almost as well as if it
had been explained to him. He could not of course, tell how Pierre came
to be there in company with the deserters, but he knew that they were
about to steal the yacht, and that Tomlinson had concocted the story he
had told in order to send him and Bab into the cabin, so that they could
be secured. Poor Bab had been entrapped, and the only thing that saved
Eugene, was the accident that had befallen him.

“Pierre,” shouted the boy, in indignant tones, “I know what you’re at,
but your plan won’t work. You’ll not get far away with the Banner—mind
that!”

Pierre at once left his companion to attend to Bab, and came out into
the standing room, eager to secure Eugene, before his loud, angry voice
attracted the attention of the brig’s crew. “You will save yourself
trouble by clapping a stopper on that jaw of yours,” said he, fiercely.
“Come up behind him, Tomlinson, and the rest of you cast off the lines,
and get the Banner under way without the loss of a moment.”

“The rest of you let those lines alone,” shouted Eugene. “And Tomlinson,
you keep your distance,” he added, springing lightly upon the taffrail
as the deserter advanced upon him. “You’ll not take me into that cabin a
prisoner.”

“Grab him, Tomlinson!” exclaimed Pierre, “and be quick about it, or
you’ll be too late.”

And he _was_ too late, being altogether too slow in his movements to
seize so agile a fellow as Eugene. Believing that the boy was fairly
cornered and could not escape, the deserter came up very deliberately,
and was much surprised to see him raise his hands above his head, and
dive out of sight in the harbor. Tomlinson ran quickly to the stern and
looked over, but Eugene was far out of his reach, being just in the act
of disappearing around the stern of the brig.

“Never mind him,” said Pierre; “he’s gone, and we can’t help it. The next
thing is to be gone ourselves, before he gets help and comes back.”

“All clear fore and aft!” cried one of the deserters.

“Shove off, for’ard!” commanded Pierre, seizing the wheel. “Tom, send two
men aloft to shake out those topsails.”

In five minutes more the Banner, lying almost on her side, and carrying a
huge bone in her teeth, was scudding swiftly away from the wharf toward
the opposite side of the harbor.




CHAPTER XI.

“SHEEP AHOY!”


Meanwhile Eugene, whose astonishment and indignation knew no bounds, was
striking out vigorously for the wharf. Like Chase he began to believe he
had ample reason for declaring the expedition a failure, and to wish he
had known better than to urge it on. The yacht was lost, with no prospect
of being recovered; Bab was a prisoner in the hands of the deserters,
and there was no knowing what they would do with him; he was alone,
in a strange country, his brother and all the rest of the Club having
disappeared; and Fred Craven was still missing—perhaps had already been
sent off to Mexico under the Spanish sea captain. This was the worst
feature in the case, and it caused Eugene more anxiety than the loss of
the yacht. Concerning himself he was not at all uneasy. He was in full
possession of his liberty, was a passable sailor, and could easily find a
vessel bound for the States; but what could poor Fred do in his helpless
condition? Eugene was so fully occupied with such thoughts as these that
he forgot that he was in the water; and neither did he know that he was
an object of interest and amusement to several men who were watching him.
But he became aware of the fact when he rounded the brig’s stern, for a
voice directly over his head called out, in a strong foreign accent:

“Sheep ahoy!”

“You’re a sheep yourself,” replied Eugene, looking up, just in time to
catch a line as it came whirling down to him, and to see half a dozen
sailors in striped shirts and tarpaulins, leaning over the brig’s rail.
Seizing the line with both hands he was drawn out of the water, and in
a few seconds more found himself sprawling on the vessel’s deck in the
midst of the sailors, who greeted him with jeers and shouts of laughter.

“Now, perhaps you see something funny in this, but I don’t,” exclaimed
Eugene, as he scrambled to his feet and looked around for the Banner.
“Do you see that craft out there? She belongs to my brother, and those
fellows have stolen her and are running away with her. I am a stranger
to this country, and its laws and ways of doing business, and I don’t
know how to go to work to get her back. Perhaps some of you will be kind
enough to give me a word of advice.”

The sailors ceased their laughter when he began to speak, and listened
attentively until he was done, when they broke out into another roar,
louder than the first. The one who had thrown him the rope slapped him
on the back and shouted “Sheep ahoy!” while another offered him a plug
of tobacco. The truth was, they had seen Eugene jump overboard when
Tomlinson came aft to seize him; and, very far from guessing the facts of
the case, they believed him to be one of the yacht’s boys who had taken
to the water to escape punishment for some offence he had committed.
They could not understand English, and there was only one among them who
could speak even a word of it; and all he could say was “Sheep ahoy!”
(he intended it for “Ship ahoy!”) which he kept repeating over and over
again, without having the least idea what it meant. They thought that
Eugene was trying to explain to them how badly he had been abused on
board his vessel, and his vehement gestures and angry countenance excited
their mirth.

“Get away with that stuff!” cried the boy, hitting the plug of tobacco
a knock that sent it from the sailor’s hand spinning across the deck.
“Stop pounding me on the back, you fellow, and shouting ‘Sheep ahoy!’
I’m no more of a sheep than you are. Is there one among you who can talk
English?”

“Sheep ahoy!” yelled the sailor, while his companions burst into another
roar of laughter, as the owner of the tobacco went to pick up his
property.

The harder Eugene tried to make himself understood, the louder the
sailors laughed. At first he thought they would not answer his questions,
merely because they wished to tantalize him; but being satisfied at last
that they could not comprehend a word he said, he pushed them roughly
aside, and springing upon the wharf, hurried off, followed by a fresh
burst of laughter and loud cries of “Sheep ahoy!”

“I don’t see any sense in making game of a fellow that way, even if you
can’t understand him,” thought Eugene, more angry than ever. “I hope the
rebels may capture the last one of you, and shut you up for awhile.”

Eugene did not know where he was going or what he intended to do.
Indeed, he did not give the matter a moment’s thought. All he cared for
just then was to get out of hearing of the laughter of the brig’s crew,
and to find some quiet spot where he could sit down by himself, and take
time to recover from the bewilderment occasioned by the events of the
last quarter of an hour. With this object in view, he hurried along the
wharf, out of the gate, and up the street leading to the top of the hill.
At the same moment Walter and Perk were walking slowly up the other side.
It was now nearly sunset. For four long hours the young captain and his
companion had run about the village in every direction, looking for Fred
Craven, and now, almost tired out, and utterly discouraged, they were
slowly retracing their steps toward the wharf. They met Eugene at the top
of the hill, and the moment their eyes rested on him, they knew he had
some unwelcome news to communicate, although they little thought it as
bad as it was.

“O, fellows!” exclaimed Eugene, as soon as he came within speaking
distance, “you don’t know how glad I am to see you again. They’ve got her
at last, and Bab too; and here the rest of us are, high and dry ashore,
with a fair prospect of working our passage back to Bellville, if we can
find any vessel to ship on. Look there!”

Walter turned his eyes in the direction indicated, and one look was
enough. “The deserters?” he faltered.

“Yes, sir, the deserters! And who do you suppose is their leader? Pierre
Coulte!”

Without waiting to hear the exclamations of amazement which this
unexpected intelligence called forth from his companions, Eugene went on
to tell what had happened to him since he had last seen his brother—how
he and Bab had traversed the wharf from one end to the other without
meeting the revenue officer of whom they had been sent in search, and
had returned to the yacht just in time to see her captured. He wound up
his story with the remark that Chase and Wilson must have been secured,
before he and Bab came within sight of the vessel, for they had seen
nothing of them.

“Well, this is a pretty state of affairs,” said Walter, as soon as he
could speak. “Instead of assisting Fred Craven, we have managed to lose
three more of our fellows. As far as I can see we are done for now, and
all that is left us is to look about for a chance to go home. But first,
I’d like to know what those men intend to do with the yacht. Do you see
where they are going? Let’s walk around the beach. I want to keep her in
sight as long as I can, for I never expect to see her after to-night.”

Walter did not keep the Banner in sight five minutes after he spoke. She
had by this time reached the other side of the harbor, and disappeared
among the trees and bushes that lined the shore, having probably entered
a creek that flowed into the bay. With one accord the boys bent their
steps along the beach toward the spot where she had last been seen, not
with any intention of trying to recover possession of her, but simply
because they did not know what else to do.

It was fully three miles around the beach to the woods in which the
Banner had vanished from their view, but the boys had so much to talk
about that the distance did not seem nearly so great. Almost before
they were aware of it, they were stumbling about among the bushes, in
close proximity to the Banner’s hiding-place. Not deeming it policy to
attract the attention of her crew, they ceased their conversation and
became more cautious in their movements—a proceeding on which they had
reason to congratulate themselves; for, before they had gone fifty yards
farther, they saw the Banner’s tall, taper masts rising through the
bushes directly in advance of them. They looked about among the trees in
every direction, but could see no one. They listened, but no sound came
from the direction of the yacht. The same encouraging thought occurred
to each of the boys at the same moment, and Eugene was the first to give
utterance to it.

“Can it be possible, that the deserters have run her in here and left
her?” he asked, excitedly.

“It is possible, but hardly probable,” replied Walter. “They didn’t steal
her just to run her across the bay and leave her. They’re going to Havana
in her.”

“I know that. But if they are on board, why don’t we hear them talking or
walking about? They may have gone back to the village for something.”

“Then we should have met them,” said Walter. “But, if you say so, we’ll
go up nearer and reconnoitre. I’d like to have one more look at the
Banner, before I give her up for ever.”

“Go on,” said Perk. “If they are there, we need not show ourselves.”

Walter, throwing himself on his hands and knees, crept cautiously toward
the bank of the creek, and in a few minutes laid hold of the Banner’s
bob-stay, and drew himself to an erect position. The little vessel lay
close alongside the bank, held by a single line, her bowsprit being run
into the bushes. Her sails had been lowered, but were not furled, and
this made it evident that her captors had either hurriedly deserted
her, or that they intended very soon to get her under way again. The
boys listened, but could hear no movement on the deck. Afraid to give
utterance to the hopes that now arose in his mind, Walter looked toward
his companions, and receiving an encouraging nod from each, seized the
bob-stay again, and drawing himself up to the bowsprit, looked over the
rail. There was no one in sight. Slowly and carefully he made his way to
the deck, closely followed by Perk and Eugene, and presently they were
all standing beside the hatch that led into the galley. It was open,
and a close examination of the apartment below, showed them that it was
empty. There was still one room to be looked into, and that was the
cabin. If there was no one there, the Banner would be their own again in
less than thirty seconds.

Without an instant’s pause, Walter placed his hands on the combings of
the hatch, and lowered himself through, still closely followed by his
companions. The door leading into the cabin was closed but not latched.
Slowly and noiselessly it yielded to the pressure of Walter’s hand, and
swung open so that the boys could obtain a view of the interior of the
cabin. They looked, and all their hopes of recovering the yacht vanished
on the instant. Lying in different attitudes about the cabin—stretched
upon the lockers and on the floor were five stalwart men, all fast
asleep; and conspicuous among them was Pierre, the smuggler. Walter
hastily closed the door, and without saying a word, began to remove the
hatch that led into the hold.

“That’s the idea,” whispered Eugene. “We’ll rescue Bab before we go
ashore. Let me go down after him; I know he’s there.”

“We’ll all go down,” replied Walter; “and we’ll not go ashore at all if
we can help it. I, for one, don’t intend to leave the yacht again until
I am put off by a superior force. We’ll do as Tomlinson and his crowd
did—conceal ourselves in the hold until the Banner is so far out to sea
that we can’t be put off, and then we’ll come out.”

This was more than Perk and Eugene had bargained for. They believed it to
be rather a reckless piece of business to trust themselves in the power
of the new crew of the Banner. It was probably the best way to regain
control of the yacht—the deserters would have no use for her after they
reached Havana—but what if they should be angry when they found the boys
aboard, and vent their spite by treating them harshly? In that event,
they would be in a predicament indeed, for they could not get ashore, and
neither could they defend themselves against the attacks of grown men.
But if Walter was determined to stay, of course they would stay with him.
If he got into trouble, they would be near him to share it; and there
was some consolation in knowing that they could not get into much worse
situations than those they had already passed through. They followed him
when he lowered himself into the hold, and it was well they did so; for
when Perk, who brought up the rear, was half way through the hatch, some
one in the cabin uttered a loud yawn, and rising to his feet, approached
the door leading into the galley. As quick as a flash, Perk dropped into
the hold, closing the hatch after him; and immediately afterward, almost
before he had time to draw another breath, the cabin door opened, and the
man came in. The frightened and excited boys crouched close under the
hatch, afraid to move for fear of attracting his attention. They heard
him move something across the floor of the galley and step upon it; and
they knew by the first words he uttered that it was Pierre, and that he
was taking an observation of the weather.

“Roll out there, lads, and turn to!” he exclaimed. “By the time we get
the yacht turned round, and the sails hoisted, it will be dark. We’re
going to have a cloudy, breezy night for our run, and that’s just what we
want. Come, bullies, make a break, there.”

The order was followed by a general movement in the cabin, and the boys,
believing that the sound of the heavy footsteps overhead would drown any
noise they might make in moving about the hold, seized the opportunity
to look up a place of concealment among the water-butts and tool-chests.
Walter’s first care, however, was to look, or rather _feel_ for the
lantern which he and his brother always used when visiting the hold. It
was found hanging in its accustomed place. With the solitary match he
happened to have in his pocket he lighted the wick, and the first object
that was revealed to himself and companions was Bab, sitting with his
hands tied behind him and his back against one of the water-butts. The
prisoner, who, up to this time had believed that his visitors were some
of the deserters, was too amazed to speak. Indeed he did not try until
Eugene and Perk had untied his hands, and given him each a hearty slap on
the back by way of greeting.

“All the merest accident in the world, my boy,” said Eugene. “Such a
thing never happened before and never will again. We never expected to
see you on the yacht, either. Come up into this dark corner, and tell us
what you know of the plans of these men. Hallo! what’s this?”

While Eugene was speaking he was walking toward the after end of the
hold. On the way he stumbled over something, which, upon examination,
proved to be a long, narrow box, bearing upon its top a name and address:
“DON CASPER NEVIS, Port Platte, Cuba.”

“How did that box come here?” asked Walter, “I never saw it before. And
what are in those packages?” he added, pointing to a couple of bales that
lay near by.

“Here’s another box,” continued Eugene, “and it is so heavy I can
scarcely move it. There’s some printing on it, too. Hold your lantern
here.”

Walter did as his brother requested, and he and the rest, who crowded
about the box and looked over Eugene’s shoulder, read the same name and
address they had seen on the other box; and underneath, in smaller print
were the words: “Percussion Cartridges.”

“Now just listen to me a minute and I’ll tell you what’s a fact,” said
Perk. “Here are the bullets—I don’t know how they came here, but they’re
_here_—and if we only had the guns to throw them, we could clear the
yacht’s deck of these interlopers in less time than it takes to tell it.”

“Well, I declare!” exclaimed Walter suddenly, and in tones indicative of
great surprise.

“Made any more discoveries?” asked Perk.

“I have,” replied the young captain, who by the aid of his lantern, was
closely scrutinizing the long box. “Here are the very things you are
wishing for. Just listen to this: One dozen Spencer’s army carbines.”

The boys could scarcely believe their ears; they wanted the evidence of
their eyes to back it up. With a volley of ejaculations, which in their
excitement they uttered in tones altogether too loud, they gathered about
the box, looked at the words Walter had read to them, then rubbed their
eyes and looked again.

“Well, now I am beat,” said Bab.

“I’d give something to know how these articles came here,” observed
Walter, deeply perplexed.

“Can it be possible that they were brought aboard by the deserters, who
intend to start out on a piratical cruise on their own hook?” asked Perk.

While the three boys were discussing the matter in this way, Eugene, who
was the first to recover himself, took the lantern from his brother’s
hand, and creeping forward to the carpenter’s chest, soon returned with
a screw-driver. While one held the light, and the others looked on, he
set to work upon the long box, and presently the lid was removed and the
interior disclosed to view. There they were, a half a dozen bran new
breech-loaders, and under them were as many more of the same sort. While
Eugene was handing them out, Perk seized the screw-driver, and in five
minutes more the cover of the ammunition box had been taken off, and four
of the carbines were loaded and ready for use.

“Now, then, lead on, Walter!” exclaimed Eugene, triumphantly. “One rush,
and she’s ours. Won’t those villains be surprised when they see the
muzzles of four seven-shooters looking them squarely in the face? Why,
fellows, they’ve got the yacht under sail already.”

If Eugene had said that the Banner had left the creek behind, and was
well on her way toward the entrance to the harbor, he would have been
nearly right.




CHAPTER XII.

THE BANNER UNDER FIRE.


While Walter and his friends were engaged in unpacking the boxes
containing the carbines and ammunition, Pierre and his crew had been
equally busy on deck. By the time they had turned the yacht around with
her bow toward the mouth of the creek and hoisted the sails, it was pitch
dark, and her captain determined to begin the voyage at once. The boys
below were so intent upon their investigations, and so astonished at
their discoveries, that they did not know that the yacht was in motion;
but when she got out into the harbor where she felt the full force of the
breeze, they speedily became aware of the fact, for the Banner, following
her usual custom, rolled over until her front gunwale was almost level
with the water, and Walter and his companions slid down to the lee side
of the hold as easily as if the floor had been ice, and they mounted on
skates. Shut out as they were from view of surrounding objects, and being
beyond the reach of the voices of the men on deck, they were saved the
anxiety and alarm they would have felt, had they known all that happened
during the next half hour. They were in blissful ignorance of the fact
that they were that night under fire for the first time in their lives,
but such was the truth; and this was the way it came about.

Had Tomlinson and his men known all that Pierre knew, the voyage to
Havana would never have been undertaken. The latter was well aware of the
fact that more than one cargo of arms and ammunition had been smuggled
into that very port for the use of the Cuban insurgents—he ought to have
known it, for he belonged to the vessel engaged in the business—and
he had also learned that the Stella was suspected, and that vigilant
officers were keeping an eye on all her movements. He knew, further,
that certain things had been done by Mr. Bell that afternoon, calculated
to draw the attention of the Spanish officials, from the Stella to the
Banner; that she would be closely watched; that she had been seen to
cross the harbor and enter the creek; that an attempt would be made to
board and search her before she left the port; and that in case the
attempt failed, a Spanish frigate was close at hand to pursue her, and
the fort on the point was ready to open fire upon her. But knowing all
these things as well as he did, he was willing to attempt to smuggle the
Banner out of the harbor, for he was working for money.

Hugging the shore as closely as the depth of the water would permit, the
yacht sped on her way toward the point, the crew standing in silence at
their posts, and Pierre himself handling the wheel. With the exception
of the lamp in the binnacle, and the lantern in the hold which the boys
were using, there was not a light about her, and no one spoke a word,
not even in a whisper. But with all these precautions, the yacht did not
leave the harbor unobserved. Just as she arrived off the point on which
the fort was situated, a light suddenly appeared in her course. It came
from a dark lantern. The man who carried it was the same officer who had
boarded the vessel in the morning, and who, for reasons of his own, had
made the young sailors believe that he could not speak their language. He
was standing in the stern-sheets of a large yawl, which was filled with
armed men, ready to board the yacht, when she came to, in obedience to
his hail.

“Banner ahoy!” yelled the officer, in as plain English as Walter himself
could have commanded.

“There they are, cap’n,” whispered Tomlinson, who had been stationed in
the bow to act as lookout. “A cutter, and a dozen men in her. Are you
going to answer the hail?”

“Leave all that to me. Come here and take the wheel, and hold her just
as she is,” said Pierre; and when Tomlinson obeyed the order, the new
captain hurried to the rail, and looked toward the yawl.

“Banner ahoy!” shouted the officer again, as the schooner flew past his
boat.

“Yaw! Vat you want?” answered Pierre, imitating as nearly as he could the
broken English of a German.

“Lie to!” commanded the officer.

“Vas?” yelled Pierre.

“Lie to, I say. I want to come aboard of you.”

“Nix forstay!”

“That won’t go down, my friend; I know you,” said the officer, angrily.
“Give away, strong,” he added, addressing himself to his crew. “You had
better stop and let me come aboard.”

Pierre seemed very anxious to understand. He moved aft as the Banner went
on, leaving the boat behind, and even leaned as far as he could over the
taffrail, and placed his hand behind his ear as if trying to catch the
officer’s words. But he did not stop; he knew better. The boat followed
the yacht a short distance, and then turned and went swiftly toward the
point, the officer waving his lantern in air as if making signals to some
one. When Pierre saw that, he knew there were exciting times ahead.

“Give me the wheel, now,” said he; “and do you go for’ard and heave the
lead until I tell you to stop. Station a man in the waist to pass the
word, and tell him not to speak too loud. Tell two others to stand by the
sheets, and send Bob aloft to unfurl the topsails. We have need of all
the rags we can spread now.”

“What’s up?” asked Tomlinson, with some anxiety.

“There’ll be a good deal up if we don’t get away from here in a hurry,”
replied Pierre; “more than you think for. But if you do as I tell you, I
will bring you through all right. That fort will open on us in less than
five minutes, and if that don’t stop us, we’ll have to run a race with a
man o’ war.”

Tomlinson waited to hear no more. Resigning the wheel into Pierre’s
hands, he ran forward, and the latter, as soon as the men had been
stationed at the fore and main sheets, changed the yacht’s course,
heading her across a bar at the entrance to the harbor, and standing
close along shore. The wisdom of this manœuvre was very soon made
apparent. In less than ten minutes afterward, there was a bright flash
behind them, accompanied by a shrieking sound in the air, and a twelve
pound shell went skipping along the waves and burst far in advance of
the yacht. Had she been in the channel, which vessels of large size were
obliged to follow in going in and out of the harbor, she would have been
directly in range of it. Another and another followed, and finally every
gun on the seaward side of the fort was sending its missiles in the
direction the Banner was supposed to have gone. The deserters looked and
listened in amazement; but finding that they were out of reach of the
shells, their alarm began to abate.

“Now, this is like old times,” exclaimed Bob, placing his left hand
behind his back, extending his right, and glancing along the yacht’s
rail, in the attitude of the captain of a gun when about to pull the
lock-string. “Don’t I wish this craft was the old Indianola, as good as
she was the day she ran the batteries at Vicksburg, and I had one of
those eleven-inch guns under my eye, loaded with a five-second shell?”

“You’ll wish for her many a time to-night, for the fun isn’t over yet,”
observed Pierre. “It is only just beginning. Now keep silence, fore and
aft, so that I can hear what Tom has to say about the water.”

For an hour Tomlinson kept heaving the lead, passing the word back to
Pierre with every throw, and all this while the Banner, with every inch
of her canvas spread, bounded along as close to the shore as her captain
dared to go. For fifteen minutes of this time the fort continued to send
its shots and shells along the channel, and then the firing ceased and
all was still again. Pierre kept close watch of the shore as the yacht
flew along, and finally turning into a little bay, sailed up within sight
of a stone jetty that put out from the shore, and came to anchor. This
was Don Casper’s wharf Pierre knew it, for he had often been there; and
he knew too that a short distance away, among the negro quarters, was a
storehouse containing an abundance of corn-meal, flour and bacon. This
was the place to secure the provisions.

“There!” exclaimed the captain, as the Banner swung around with her head
to the waves, “we’re so far on our way to Havana, and we haven’t been
long getting here, either. Now we’ve no time to lose. Who’s the best
swimmer in the party?”

“I am,” said Tomlinson confidently.

“Well, then, come here. Do you see that wharf out there, and the yawls
lying alongside of it? Just swim out and bring one of ’em back, and
we’ll go ashore and get the grub. Be in a hurry, for we want to get our
business done and put to sea again before that man-o’-war comes up and
blockades us.”

Tomlinson at once divested himself of his pea-jacket, overshirt and
shoes, and plunging fearlessly into the waves made his way to the
shore. While there, notwithstanding Pierre’s suggestion that haste was
desirable, he took it into his head to reconnoitre the plantation. He
found the storehouse, and saw the overseer—the same man who liberated
Chase and Wilson from the wine-cellar—serving out provisions to the
negroes. After noting the position of the building, so that he could
easily find it again, he secured one of the yawls, hoisted a sail in it,
and returning to the yacht brought off his companions. Pierre knowing
more than the deserters, and believing that it might not be quite safe to
trust himself too far away from the yacht, remained at the wharf, while
Tomlinson and the rest of the deserters, armed with handspikes which they
had brought from the vessel, went to the storehouse after the provisions.

And what were the boys in the hold doing all this while? They would
not have believed that a full hour and a half had elapsed since they
discovered and liberated Bab, for they were busy and the time flew
quickly by. In the first place, each boy crammed his pockets full of
cartridges and took possession of one of the carbines, and the rest were
carefully hidden among the ballast, for fear that they might by some
accident fall into the hands of the deserters. When this had been done,
Eugene, with his usual impetuosity and lack of prudence, began to urge
an immediate attack upon the captors of the yacht; but Walter and Perk
thought it best to adhere to the original plan, and keep themselves
concealed until the yacht was well out to sea, or, at all events, until
she was clear of the harbor. They argued that when the attack was made it
would produce something of a commotion on deck, which might attract the
attention of the crews of some of the neighboring vessels, and perhaps of
the Spanish officials; and, although the Banner was their own property,
and they had as good a right in Cuba as any of their countrymen, they
did not wish to be called upon to make any explanations. Bab sided with
Walter and Perk, and Eugene was obliged to yield. It was well that he
did not carry his point, for had the lawful captain of the yacht been in
command when she was hailed by the revenue officer, he would have obeyed
the order to lie to, and he and his crew would have been carried back
to town and thrown into jail as smugglers. The officer would have found
proof against them too; and such proof as Walter knew nothing about.

It being decided at last that Walter’s plan was the best, the boys, in
order to gratify their curiosity, proceeded to examine the contents of
the bales they had found in the hold. The first contained artillery
sabres, and Eugene buckled one about his waist; but the others declined
to follow his example, believing that the carbines were all the weapons
they needed. The other two packages contained officers’ sashes, one of
which Eugene also appropriated. While thus engaged they heard the roar of
the guns from the fort, but they little dreamed that they were pointed
in the direction the yacht was supposed to have gone. Shut in as they
were on all sides by tight wooden walls, the sound seemed to them to come
from a great distance. They accounted for the firing in various ways—the
soldiers were rejoicing over some decisive victory the Spaniards had
gained over the insurgents; or they were engaged in artillery practice;
or perhaps a skirmish was going on back of the town. So little interested
were they in the matter, that, after the first few shots, they ceased
to pay any attention to the noise. They had their own affairs to think
and talk about: what could have become of Chase and Wilson—they had
searched the hold without finding any traces of them—and who had brought
the arms and ammunition aboard? Where had Fred Craven and his keepers
gone so suddenly? and what should be done with the unlawful crew of the
yacht after they had been secured? By the time these points had been
talked over, the Banner had accomplished the ten miles that lay between
the harbor and the bay at the rear of Don Casper’s plantation, and then
Walter declared that Pierre and Tomlinson had had charge of the vessel
long enough, and that it was time he was claiming his rights again. The
boys were ready to move at the word. It was a novel and perhaps desperate
thing they were about to undertake, but not one of them hesitated.
Grasping their weapons with a firmer hold, they followed closely after
Walter, and gathered silently about him as he stopped under the hatch.

“Are we all ready?” asked the young commander, in an excited whisper. “I
will throw off the hatch, and, Bab, be sure you are ready to hand me my
carbine the moment I jump out. If any of the deserters hear the noise and
come into the galley to see what is going on, I will keep them at bay
until you come up. If we find them on deck, let each fellow pick out a
man, cover him with his gun, and order him into the hold.”

“Yes, and see that he goes, too,” added Eugene.

“Perk, blow out that lantern. Stand by, fellows!”

The boys crouched like so many tigers ready for a spring; but just as
Walter placed his hands upon the hatch, preparatory to throwing it off, a
few harshly spoken words of command came faintly to their ears, followed
by the rattling of the chain through the hawse hole, and a sudden
cessation of motion, telling the young sailors that the yacht had come to
anchor. This caused Walter to hesitate; and after a few whispered words
with his companions, they all sat down on the floor of the hold under the
hatch to await developments. But nothing new transpired. The yacht was as
silent as the grave; and after half an hour of inactivity, the patience
of the young tars was all exhausted, and once more preparations were made
for the attack. Walter handed his carbine to Bab, and lifting the hatch
quickly, but noiselessly, from its place, swung himself out of the hold
into the galley. The others followed with all possible haste, and when
the last one had come out, Walter pushed open the door of the cabin and
rushed in. The room was empty. Without a moment’s pause, he ran toward
the standing room, and when he got there, found himself in undisputed
possession of his vessel, no one being on deck to oppose him. The yacht
was deserted by all save himself and companions. The young tars,
scarcely able to realize the fact, hurried about, peeping into all sorts
of improbable places, and when at last they had satisfied themselves that
the deserters were really gone, their joy knew no bounds.

“It’s all right, fellows!” cried Walter, gleefully. “She’s ours, and
we’ve got her without a fight, too. I have some curiosity to know where
those men have gone, but we’ll not stop to inquire. Stand by to get under
way.”

“Shall I slip the cable?” asked Eugene.

“No,” answered Walter. “I can’t see the beauty of throwing away a good
chain and anchor when there’s no occasion for it. Let’s man the capstan.”

While two of the crew busied themselves in removing the chain from the
bitts to the little horizontal capstan with which the yacht was provided,
the others brought the handspikes from their places, and presently the
schooner began walking slowly up to her anchor. The boys worked manfully,
and presently Eugene looked over the bow and announced that the anchor
was apeak.

“Go to the wheel, Perk,” said Walter. “Heave away, the rest of us.
Cheerily, lads!”

Perk at once hurried aft, but just as he laid his hand on the wheel he
stopped short, gazed intently over the stern toward the shore, and then
quietly made his way forward again. “Now I’ll tell you what’s a fact,” he
whispered; “you’d better work that capstan a little livelier, for they’re
coming.”

“Who are coming?” asked all the boys at once.

“Well, there’s a yawl close aboard of us, and if you can tell who is in
it, you will do more than I can.”

The young sailors looked in the direction Perk pointed, and saw a
sailboat swiftly approaching the yacht. To heave the anchor clear of the
ground and get under way before she came alongside, was impossible, for
she was already within a few rods of the vessel.

“Stand by to keep them off,” said Walter, catching up his carbine. “We
don’t want to hurt any of them if we can help it, but bear in mind that
they must not, under any circumstances, be allowed to come over the side.”

The boys, with their weapons in their hands, hurried to the rail, and
Walter was on the point of hailing the boat, and warning the deserters
that any attempt to board the yacht would be stubbornly resisted, when
he discovered that she had but one occupant. The others became aware of
the fact at the same moment, and Eugene declared that it was none other
than Pierre Coulte. “Let him come aboard, fellows,” he added, “and we’ll
make him tell where Featherweight went to-day in such a hurry. We may
learn something to our advantage.”

Before his companions had time either to consent to, or reject this
proposition, the yawl rounded to under the bow of the Banner, and a head
appeared above the rail. The boys crouched close to the deck, and in a
few seconds more a human figure leaped into view, and after looking all
about the yacht, ran toward the capstan. On his way he passed within
reach of Walter, who thrust out both his sinewy arms, and wrapping them
about the intruder’s legs, prostrated him in an instant. No sooner had he
touched the deck than Perk, who was always on the alert, threw himself
across the man’s shoulders, and seizing both his hands, held them fast.

The stranger lay for an instant overcome with surprise at this unexpected
reception, and then began to show his disapproval by the most frantic
struggles; and although he was firmly held, he gave evidence of
possessing uncommon strength and determination. But it was not Pierre
they had got hold of, as they quickly discovered. There was something
about him that reminded them of somebody else. Perk, at least, thought
so, for he bent his head nearer to the stranger’s, remarking as he did so:

“Now I’ll tell you what’s a fact—”

When he had said this much he paused, and started as if he had been shot,
for a familiar voice interrupted him with—

“I say, Perk, if that’s you, you needn’t squeeze all the breath out of
me.”

“Wilson!” cried the crew of the Banner, in concert.

Perk jumped to his feet, pulling the prisoner up with him. It was Wilson
and no mistake.




CHAPTER XIII.

THE SPANISH FRIGATE.


“How came you here?” was of course the first question the Club addressed
to the new-comer, as soon as they had made sure of his identity.

“I came in that boat,” replied Wilson, who was quite as much surprised to
see his friends as they were to see him. “But how did _you_ come here? I
heard Tomlinson say that he and his crowd had stolen the Banner.”

“So they did; but they stole us with her, for we were hidden in the hold.
What we want to know is, how you happen to be out here in the country. We
left you and Chase to watch the yacht.”

“It is a long story, fellows, and I will tell it to you the first
chance I get. But just how we have something else to think of. There
comes Pierre,” said Wilson, pointing over the stern. “He is after me.
Tomlinson and the rest are ashore stealing some provisions.”

“Does Pierre know where Featherweight is?” asked Eugene.

“I shouldn’t wonder. He seems to be pretty well acquainted with Mr.
Bell’s plans.”

“Then we will see if we can make him tell them to us,” said Walter.
“Eugene, go down and get a lantern; and the rest of us stand by to
receive our visitor with all the honors.”

“Why, where did you get this?” asked Wilson, as Eugene placed his carbine
in his hands.

“‘Thereby hangs a tale;’ but you shall hear it in due time.”

“Here he is, fellows,” whispered Walter. “Keep out of sight until he
comes over the side.”

Pierre was by this time close aboard of the schooner. He came up under
her stern, and sprang over the rail with the yawl’s painter in his hand.
“I told you that you shouldn’t go off in this vessel,” said he, looking
about the deck in search of Wilson. “You needn’t think to hide from me,
for I am bound to find you. You will save yourself some rough handling by
getting into this yawl and going straight back to shore. We don’t want
you here.”

“But we want you,” exclaimed Walter, starting up close at Pierre’s side
and presenting his carbine full in his face.

The others jumped from their concealments, and at the same moment Eugene
opened the door of the cabin and came out into the standing-room with
a lighted lantern in his hand. For a few seconds the smuggler was so
completely blinded by the glare of the bull’s-eye, which Eugene turned
full upon him, that he could not distinguish even the nearest objects;
but presently his eyes became somewhat accustomed to the light, and he
was able to take a view of his surroundings. He was much astonished at
what he saw. There stood Wilson, whom he had expected to drag from some
concealment, looking very unlike the cringing, supplicating youth he had
met on the jetty. And he was not alone either, for with him were the boys
whom he believed he had left ten miles behind him, and also Bab, whom he
had last seen bound and helpless in the hold. They were all armed too,
and were holding their cocked guns in most unpleasant proximity to his
face.

“Well, if you have anything to say for yourself let’s have it,” said
Wilson, breaking the silence at last. “You’ll let me go off in this
vessel after all, won’t you? There’s a good fellow.”

Pierre had not a word to say. He seemed to be overcome with bewilderment
and alarm. He did not even remonstrate, when Eugene, after placing his
lantern on the deck, stepped up, and passing a rope around his arms
confined them behind his back. When the operation of tying him was
completed, he seemed to arouse himself as if from a sound sleep, and to
realize for the first time that he was a prisoner; but then it was too
late to resist even if he had the inclination. The knowledge of this fact
did not, however, appear to occasion him any uneasiness. As soon as the
first tremor, caused by the sight of the cocked weapons, passed away, he
began to recover his courage.

“There,” said Eugene, taking another round turn with the rope, “I think
that will hold you. Didn’t I tell you that you would never get far away
with the yacht? You’re fast enough now.”

“But I’ll not be so long,” replied Pierre, with a grin. “There’s a
man-of-war coming, if you only knew it, and she’ll be along directly.”

“Well, what of it?”

“Nothing much, only she will take you and your vessel, and set me at
liberty; that’s all. She is looking for you.”

“She is? We don’t care. We’ve done nothing to make us afraid of her.”

“You’d better be afraid of her,” replied Pierre, significantly. “You’ve
got no papers.”

“Yes, I have,” interrupted Walter.

“How does that come?” asked Pierre, in a tone of voice that was
aggravating to the last degree. “Did you clear from Port Platte?”

“No, because we didn’t get the chance. You stole the vessel and run away
with her. But I can show that we cleared from Bellville.”

“No, you can’t. And, more than that, you’ve got guns and ammunition
aboard intended for the use of the Cubans.”

Pierre paused when he said this, and looked at the boys as if he expected
them to be very much astonished; and they certainly were. They knew now
where the carbines came from, and why they had been placed in the hold,
and their words and actions indicated that if the guilty party had been
within their reach just then, he would have fared roughly indeed. Walter
was the only one who had nothing to say. He stood for a moment as mute
and motionless as if he had been turned into stone, and then catching up
the lantern, rushed into his cabin. He opened his desk, and with nervous
haste began to overhaul the papers it contained.

“O, you’ll not find them there,” said Pierre, “they’re gone—torn up, and
scattered about the harbor.”

“What’s the matter, Walter?” asked all the boys at once.

“Our papers are gone, that’s all,” replied the young captain, calmly.
“Some one has stolen them. Now, Pierre,” he added, paying no heed to the
exclamations of rage and astonishment that arose on all sides, “I want
you to tell me what has been going on on board my vessel this afternoon.”

“Well, I don’t mind obliging you,” answered the smuggler, “seeing that
it is too late for you to repair the damage, and, in order to make you
understand it, I must begin at the beginning. You see, although we
cleared from Bellville for Havana, we did not intend to go there at all.
This very bay is the point we were bound for, but it is an ugly place in
a gale, and so we put into Port Platte to wait until the wind and sea
went down, so that we could land our cargo. Perhaps you don’t know it,
but the Stella is loaded with just such weapons as these you’ve got.”

“I don’t doubt it,” said Walter, “but why did you bring some of them
aboard this vessel?”

“I’ll come to that directly. When you set out in pursuit of us, after
we left Lost Island, we knew that you must have found Chase, and that
he had told you the whole story; but we didn’t feel at all uneasy, for
we believed that when we once lost sight of you we should never see you
again. As bad luck would have it, however, the storm blew you right into
Port Platte, and of course you found us there. When we saw you come in
we knew what you wanted to do, and set our wits at work to get the start
of you, and I rather think we’ve done it. We laid half a dozen plans,
believing that if one failed another would be sure to work. In the first
place Mr. Bell directed the attention of the custom-house officers to
you and your vessel. He is well acquainted with them all, you know, and
he has fooled them more than once, as nicely as he fooled the captain
of that cutter at Lost Island. He told them that you were the fellows
who were smuggling all the arms into this country for the use of the
rebels; that you had intended to land somewhere on the coast, but had
been compelled by the gale to come into the harbor, and that you would
probably go out again as soon as the wind died away. Having excited the
officers’ suspicions, the next thing was to do something to back them up;
and we thought the best way would be to smuggle some weapons aboard the
Banner. But in order to do it we had to work some plan to get you away
from the yacht, so that we could have a clear field for our operations.
Mr. Bell and Captain Conway took Fred Craven up the hill in plain sight
of you, and, as we expected, some of you followed him. Then the mate
found one of Don Casper’s niggers on the wharf, and used him to help his
plans along. He wrote a note to Chase, and signed Walter’s name to it.”

“Aha!” interrupted Wilson. “I begin to see into things a little. But how
did Mr. Bell know that Chase was left in command of the yacht?”

“He didn’t know it—he only guessed it from seeing him so active in
setting things to rights.”

“Don Casper,” repeated Perk. “His name is on those boxes in the hold. Who
is he?”

“He’s the man to whom we deliver our weapons, and he sends them to the
rebels. As I was saying, Mr. Bell wrote this note to Chase, asking him
to bring all the crew of the vessel to assist in releasing Fred, and
another to Don Casper, and hired the darkey to deliver them and take
the boys out to the Don’s in his wagon. But when the mate, who had the
management of the affair, reached the yacht, he found that Tomlinson and
his crowd, whom he supposed to be visitors from some neighboring vessel,
were a part of the crew, and of course he had to get rid of them in some
way; so he invited them down to the Stella to get breakfast. Then he went
back, gave the negro the notes, and he took Chase and Wilson out to Don
Casper’s. After that, the mate returned to the yacht, and taking some
arms and ammunition, stowed them away on board the yacht, and wound up by
stealing your clearance papers, which Mr. Bell destroyed.”

“And much good may the act do him,” exclaimed Eugene, angrily.

“All’s fair in war,” replied Pierre. “You came here to get us into
trouble, and of course if we could beat you at your own game, we had a
perfect right to do it.”

“No, you hadn’t,” retorted Wilson. “We were engaged in lawful business,
and you were not.”

“No matter; we make our living by it. As time passed, and you did not
come back and sail out so that the officers could board you—”

“But why were you so very anxious to have us go out?” asked Walter.
“Simply because you wanted us captured?”

“Well—no; we had something else in view. You see, we were in a great
hurry to go up to the Don’s and land our weapons, but we had a suspicion
that some sharp eyes were watching us and our vessel. Mr. Bell knew by
the way the officers acted, that they hadn’t quite made up their minds
which vessel it was that was carrying the contraband goods—The Stella
or the Banner. They didn’t like to search us, for they didn’t want to
believe anything wrong of Mr. Bell—they had known him so long and were
such good friends of his; just like the captain of that cutter, you know.
But yet they couldn’t believe that your yacht was the smuggler, for she
didn’t look like one. We wanted the officers to find the arms on board
your vessel; and until that event happened, we were afraid to ask for a
clearance—that’s the plain English of it. Well, as you didn’t come back
and take the yacht out, and Mr. Bell was very anxious that she should
go, he thought it best to change his plans a little. Learning that
Tomlinson and his friends had come to Cuba to ship aboard a privateer,
he hired me to join in with them and steal the Banner. He told me that
it would be a desperate undertaking, for the officers were all eyes
and ears, the fort was ready to open fire on the yacht if she tried to
slip out, and if that didn’t stop her, a frigate was near by to capture
her. But he offered me a hundred dollars to do the job, and I agreed to
smuggle her out. I did it, too. The fort fired more than fifty shots
after us—”

“It did!” ejaculated Eugene.

“Were those guns we heard pointed at my vessel—at _us_?” demanded Walter,
in a trembling voice.

“Not exactly at us, but in the direction we were supposed to have gone.
I brought her through all right, however, and I can take her safely away
from under the very guns of the frigate; but you can’t do it, and I am
glad of—”

“Take this man into the hold and shut him up there!” cried Walter, almost
beside himself, with indignation and alarm. “I don’t want to hear another
word from him.”

“O, you needn’t mind those things,” said Pierre, as Perk and Bab picked
up their carbines. “I am willing to go, but I shan’t stay there long. You
are as good as captured by that frigate already.”

“Take him away!” shouted Walter. “Stay here, Perk, I want to talk to you.”

The young captain began nervously pacing the deck, while the other boys
marched their prisoner through the cabin into the galley, and assisted
him rather roughly into the hold. They placed him with his back against
one of the water-butts, and while Eugene was looking for a rope with
which to confine his feet, Wilson began to question him: “Since you have
shown yourself so obliging,” said he, “perhaps you won’t mind telling me
what was in the note that darkey gave to Don Casper.”

“There wasn’t much,” was the reply. “It was written by Captain Conway,
who told the Don that the bearers were members of his crew, and that he
had sent them out there to make arrangements with him about landing our
cargo of arms.”

“Well, go on. You said you sent Chase and me to the Don’s, on purpose to
have us captured by the Spaniards.”

“We thought that perhaps we might get rid of you in that way. We know
that the Don is suspected, and we believe that if strangers, and
Americans too, were seen going there in the daytime, they would get
themselves into trouble.”

“We came very near it,” said the boy, drawing a long breath when he
thought of all that had passed at the plantation, “but the Don took care
of us.”

“Tell us all about it, Wilson,” said Eugene, coming aft with the rope at
this moment. “By the way, where is Chase? I haven’t seen anything of him.”

Wilson replied that he hadn’t seen him either very recently. He hoped
that he was all right, but he feared the worst, for he was still ashore,
and might fall into the hands of the Spaniards. And then he went on to
relate, in a few hurried words, the adventures that had befallen him
since he left the yacht at the wharf, to all of which Pierre listened
attentively, now and then manifesting his satisfaction by broad
grins. There were two things he could not understand, Wilson said, in
conclusion: one was, how the Don escaped being made a prisoner when the
patrol surrounded the house, and the other, where Chase went in such
a hurry. In regard to the missing boy we will here remark, that none
of our young friends knew what had become of him until several months
afterward, and then they met him very unexpectedly, and in a place where
they least imagined they would see him. The mystery of the Don’s escape
was no mystery after all. When he locked the boys in their place of
concealment, he made his exit from the house through one of the cellar
windows, and hid himself in a thicket of evergreens beside the back
verandah. Watching his opportunity when the soldiers were busy searching
the building, he crept quietly away and took refuge in one of the negro
cabins. He kept a sharp eye on the movements of the patrol, and saw that
those who left the house took several riderless horses with them. This
made it evident that some of their number were still on the premises,
and that they had remained to arrest the Don when he came back. But of
course he did not go back. As soon as it grew dark his overseer brought
him his cloak and weapons, and then returning to the house, succeeded in
releasing the boys, as we have described.

“Now, Pierre, there’s another thing that perhaps you wouldn’t object to
explaining,” said Eugene, when he had finished tying the prisoner’s feet.
“Didn’t Mr. Bell know that you and your father took Chase to Lost Island
in a dugout?”

“Of course he did.”

“What did you do with the pirogue?”

“We chopped her up and put her into the fire. That’s the reason you
couldn’t find her.”

“How did you get aboard the Stella? We didn’t see you, and we watched her
all the time.”

“Not all the time, I guess. There were a few minutes while you were
searching The Kitchen that you didn’t have your eyes on her, and during
that time pap and me came out of the bushes and boarded her. Mr. Bell
knew very well that if you could have your own way you would get him into
a scrape, and so he put a bold face on the matter, and bluffed you square
down.”

While the boys were asking one another if there were any other points
they wanted Pierre to explain, they heard a voice calling to them through
the hatchway. It was Perk’s voice; and when they answered his summons,
they were surprised to see that his face was pale with excitement, and
that he was trembling in every limb. “Hurry up, fellows,” he whispered.
“She’s coming.”

“Who is?”

“The frigate. We can see her lights. Walter is going to give her the
slip if he can, and go back to the village.”

“Aha!” exclaimed Pierre who caught the words. “What did I tell you? It
will do you no good to go to town, for Mr. Bell will be on hand with
proof to back up all his charges.”

Without waiting to hear what Pierre had to say, the boys sprang out of
the hold, slamming the hatch after them. Walter met them in the standing
room, and issued his orders with a calmness that surprised them. He sent
Bab to the wheel, and with the others went to work to cat and fish the
anchor, which, with a few turns of the capstan was heaved clear of the
ground. As busy as they were, they found time now and then to cast their
eyes toward the Gulf. There were the lights that had excited Walter’s
alarm, in plain sight; and the fact that they stood high above the water,
and that the waves communicated but little motion to them, was conclusive
evidence that they were suspended from the catheads of some large and
heavy vessel. Beyond a doubt, the approaching craft was the iron-clad
frigate they had seen in the harbor of Port Platte.

Never before had our heroes been placed in a situation like this.
Conscious that they had done nothing wrong, they felt that they were
playing the part of cowards, and disgracing themselves by running away
from the frigate, instead of boldly advancing to meet her. But the young
captain, and his counsellor, Perk, did not know what else to do. Had
the crew of the man-of-war been composed of his own countrymen, or had
they been even honorable people, who would accord to him the treatment
that civilized belligerents usually extend to their prisoners, the case
would have been different. In spite of the evidence against him, Walter,
feeling strong in his innocence, would fearlessly have surrendered
himself and vessel; but he was afraid of the Spaniards, and he had good
reason to be. They were so vindictive, cruel and unreasonable. Men who
could deliberately shoot down a party of young students, for no other
offence than defacing a monument, were not to be trusted. The longer
Walter pondered the matter, the more alarmed he became.

“All gone, Bab,” he exclaimed, as the anchor was pulled clear of the
ground and the Banner began to drift toward the beach, “fill away, and
get all you can out of her. Heave that lead, Eugene, and use it lively,
for I don’t know how much water there is here, and we must keep as close
to the shore as we possibly can.”

By the time the anchor was taken care of, the Banner was flying along
the beach through darkness so intense that the anxious young captain,
who perched himself upon the bow to act as lookout, could scarcely see
a vessel’s length ahead of him. There was now one question that was
uppermost in his mind, and it was one to which time only could furnish
a solution: Was the entrance to the bay wide or narrow? Upon this their
safety depended. If they could get so far away from the frigate that
they could slip by her in the darkness unperceived, their escape could
be easily accomplished; but if they were obliged to pass within reach
of the sharp eyes of her crew, their capture was certain. With his
feelings worked up to the highest pitch of excitement, but to all outward
appearances as calm as a summer morning, Walter awaited the issue.

[Illustration: THE “BANNER.”]

The Banner bounded along as silently as if she had been a phantom yacht.
She seemed to know the desperate situation of her crew. Every inch of the
canvas was spread, the top-masts bent like fishing-rods under the weight
of the heavy sails, and Bab now and then cast an anxious eye aloft,
momentarily expecting to see one of them give away under the unusual
strain. But every rope held as if additional strength had been imparted
to it. Not a block creaked; the tiller-rope, which usually groaned so
loudly, gave out no sound as Bab moved the wheel back and forth; and
even the water which boiled up under the bows, and now and then came on
deck by buckets-full, gave out a faint, gurgling sound, as if it too
sympathized with the boy crew. Ten minutes passed, and then Walter, who
was watching the lights through his night-glass, stooped and whispered a
few words to Wilson. The latter hurried aft and repeated them to Bab, and
a moment later the yacht came up into the wind and lay like a log on the
waves, drifting stern foremost toward the beach. The lights were scarcely
a hundred yards distant. Nearer and nearer they came, and presently a
high, black hull loomed up through the darkness, and moved swiftly past
the yacht into the bay. The young sailors held their breath in suspense,
some closely watching the huge mass, which seemed almost on the point
of running them down, others turning away their heads that they might
not see it, and all listening for the hail from her deck which should
announce their discovery. But the frigate was as silent as if she had
been deserted. She was not more than a minute in passing the yacht, and
then she faded out of sight as quickly as she had come into view. Her
captain did not expect to find the smuggler in the Gulf, but in the bay,
and in the act of discharging her contraband cargo; and to this alone the
Banner owed her escape.

As soon as the frigate was out of sight, Wilson carried another whispered
order to Bab, and once more the Banner went bounding along the shore. It
may have been all imagination on the part of her crew, and it doubtless
was, but every one of them was ready to declare that she moved as if she
felt easier after her narrow escape. The blocks creaked, the tiller-rope
groaned as usual, the masts cracked and snapped, and the water under the
bow roared and foamed like a miniature Niagara. Her company, one and all,
breathed as if a mountain had been removed from their shoulders, but
there were no signs of exultation among them. Their danger had been too
great for that.

“Now just listen to me a minute, and I’ll tell you what’s a fact,” said
Perk, who was the first to find his tongue. “If you were a smuggler,
Walter, you soon get up a reputation, and you would bother the
custom-house fellows more than Captain Conway ever did. He couldn’t do a
neater trick than that, if he is an old—”

Crack! went something over their heads, with a report like that of a
pistol, bringing Perk’s congratulations to a sudden close, and startling
every boy who heard it. Before they had time to look aloft there was
another crash, and the main-topmast, with the sail attached, fell over to
leeward, and flapped wildly in the wind. The backstay had parted, and of
course the mast went by the board.

“Thank goodness! it held until we were out of danger,” said Walter, as
soon as he had made himself acquainted with the nature of the accident.
“A crash like that, when the frigate was alongside, would have settled
matters for us in a hurry.”

Perk and Wilson at once went aloft to clear away the wreck, and Walter,
being left to himself, began thoughtfully pacing the deck. Now that all
danger from the frigate was passed, he had leisure to ponder upon that
which was yet to come. What would be done with him and his companions
when they gave themselves up to the authorities of the port? Would they
believe their story? If the yacht had been supplied with the provisions
necessary for the voyage to Bellville he would not have run the risk. He
would have filled away for home without the loss of a moment. He had half
a mind to try it any how. While he was turning the matter over in his
mind, Eugene announced that there were more lights ahead of them.

“We had better get out our own lanterns,” said the young commander.
“There’s no fun in rushing with almost railroad speed through such
darkness as this. Some craft might run us down.”

While the captain and his brother were employed in getting out the lights
and hanging them to the catheads, Perk called out from the cross-trees,
where he was busy with the broken mast: “I say, Walter, there’s another
frigate coming.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, she may not be a frigate, but she wants to come alongside of us. I
watched her, and just as soon as our lights were hung out she changed her
course. She’s coming toward us.”

“I don’t care,” said Walter, now beginning to get discouraged. “We might
as well give up one time as another. I shan’t try to get out of her way.”

The captain took his stand by Bab’s side, and in order to satisfy himself
that Perk was right, changed the course of the yacht several times,
narrowly watching the approaching lights as he did so. Their position
also changed, showing that the vessel intended to come up with her if
possible. Being at last convinced of this fact, Walter walked forward
again, and in moody silence waited to see what was going to happen.




CHAPTER XIV.

THE YACHT LOOKOUT.


“I am disposed of at last, am I? I rather think not. I have the free use
of my hands and feet, and if there’s any opening in this state-room large
enough for a squirrel to squeeze through, I shall be out of here in less
than five minutes. There’s the transom; I’ll try that.”

Thus spoke Fred Craven, who, with his hands in his pockets, was standing
in the middle of his new prison, listening to the retreating footsteps
of the men who had just placed him there. He had heard Captain Conway’s
sigh of relief, and caught the words he uttered when the door was locked
upon him, and his soliloquy showed what he thought of the matter. He had
not met with a single adventure during his captivity among the smugglers.
Shorty after the Stella sailed from Lost Island he was released from the
hold, and allowed the freedom of the deck. He messed with the crew,
and, for want of some better way of passing the time, performed the
duties of foremast hand as regularly and faithfully as though he had
shipped for the voyage. He saw nothing of Mr. Bell, who remained in his
cabin day and night, and had but little to say to any of the schooner’s
company. His mind was constantly occupied with thoughts of escape, and
on more than one occasion, during the silence of the mid-watch, had he
crept stealthily from his bunk in the forecastle and taken his stand
by the rail, looking out at the angry waves which tossed the schooner
so wildly about, hardly able to resist an insane desire to seize a
life-buoy or handspike and spring into them. But prudence always stepped
in in time to prevent him from doing anything rash, and finally curbing
his impatience as well as he could he accepted the situation, working
hard to keep his thoughts from wandering back to his home and friends,
and constantly cheered by the hope that when once the shores of Cuba
were sighted something would turn up in his favor. But he was doomed to
disappointment. No sooner had the headlands at the entrance to the harbor
of Port Platte appeared in view than he was ordered into the hold by
Captain Conway, and secured beyond all possibility of escape. In the
afternoon, however, he was again brought out, and, after listening to a
long speech from Mr. Bell, the object of which was to make known to him
the fact that he was to be taken ashore, and that his bodily comfort
depended upon his observing the strictest silence, he was compelled to
accompany him and the captain up the hill toward the village.

Featherweight thought he was now about to be turned over to the Spanish
sea-captain, and so he was (only the captain, as it turned out, was an
American who, for money, had undertaking to land Fred in some remote
corner of the world); but first he had a part to perform, and that was
to entice the crew of the Banner ashore in pursuit of him. As he slowly
mounted the hill, he cast his eyes toward the Gulf, thinking the while
of the quiet, pleasant little home, and the loving hearts he had left so
far beyond it, and was greatly astonished to see a vessel, which looked
exactly like the Banner, coming in. He did not know what had happened in
the cove at Lost Island, and neither had he dreamed that Walter and his
crew, bent on releasing him, had followed him for more than six hundred
miles through a storm, the like of which they had never experienced
before. He had not now the faintest idea that such was the case. What
then must have been his amazement when he saw the vessel which had
attracted his attention, haul suddenly into the shore and deposit Walter
and Perk on the wharf? He saw the two boys as they followed him up the
hill, and waved his handkerchief to them; and knowing just how courageous
and determined they were, made up his mind that the moment of his
deliverance was not far distant. But once more his hopes were dashed to
the ground. His captors concealed themselves and him in a doorway until
the pursuers had passed, and then the captain conducted him on board the
ship and gave him into the hands of his new jailer. But Fred was resolved
that he would not stay there. The ship was lying alongside the wharf; he
was not bound, and if he could only work his way out of the state-room,
it would be an easy matter to jump through one of the cabin windows
into the water, and strike out for shore. The knowledge that there were
friends at no great distance, ready and willing to assist him, encouraged
him to make the attempt. There was not a moment to be lost. Mr. Bell had
taken up more than two hours by his manœuvres on shore; it was beginning
to grow dark, the captain and all his crew were busy getting the ship
under way, and the effort must be made before she left the wharf.

The first thing to which Fred directed his attention, was the transom—a
narrow window over the door, opening into the cabin—and the next, a huge
sea-chest which was stowed away under the bunk. To drag this chest from
its place, and tip it upon one end under the transom, was an operation
which did not occupy many minutes of time. When he sprang upon it, he
found that his head was on a level with the window. There was no one in
the cabin. With a beating heart he turned the button, but that was as
far as he could go—an obstacle appeared. His new jailer had neglected no
precautions for his safe keeping, for the transom was screwed down.

“Well, what of it?” soliloquized Featherweight, not in the least
disheartened by this discovery. “There’s more than one way to do things.
I have the advantage of being smaller than most fellows of my age, and I
can make my way through cracks in which an ordinary boy would stick fast.
I believe I could even get through the key-hole, if it was just a trifle
larger.”

While he was speaking he took his knife from his pocket, and attacked the
putty with which one of the window-panes was secured. After a few quick
passes it was all removed, and placing the blade of his knife beneath
the glass, Featherweight forced it out of its place, and carefully laid
it upon the chest. The opening thus made was not more than nine inches
long and six wide, but it was large enough to admit the passage of Fred’s
little body, with some space to spare. After again reconnoitering the
cabin, he thrust one of his legs through, then the other, and after a
little squirming and some severe scratches from the sharp edges of the
sash, he dropped down upon his feet. No sooner was he fairly landed
than he ran to one of the stern windows of the cabin, threw it open,
and without an instant’s hesitation plunged into the water. But he did
not strike out for the wharf as he had intended to do, for something
caught his attention as he was descending through the air, and riveted
his gaze. It was a large yacht, which was slowly passing up the harbor.
He looked at her a moment, and then, with a cry of delight, swam toward
her with all the speed he was capable of; but, before he had made a
dozen strokes, a hoarse ejaculation from some one on the deck of the ship
announced that he was discovered. He looked up, and saw the master of the
vessel bending over the rail. “Good-bye, old fellow!” shouted Fred. “I’ve
changed my mind. I’ll not take passage with you this trip. If it is all
the same to you I’ll wait until the next.”

For a moment the captain’s astonishment was so great that he could
neither move nor speak. He could not understand how his prisoner had
effected his escape, after the care he had taken to secure him; and while
he was thinking about it, Fred was improving every second of the time,
and making astonishing headway through the water. The captain was not
long in discovering this, and then he began to bustle about the deck in a
state of great excitement.

“Avast there!” he cried. “Come back here, or I will wear a rope’s end out
on you.” Then seeing that the swimmer paid no attention to his threat, he
turned to his crew and ordered some of them to follow him into the yawl,
which was made fast to the stern of the ship.

Fred heard the command and swam faster than ever, stopping now and then,
however, to raise himself as far as he could out of the water, and wave
his hand toward the yacht. He tried to shout, but his excitement seemed
to have taken away his voice, for he could not utter a syllable. But
for all that he was seen, and his discovery seemed to produce no little
commotion on the deck of the yacht. Several of her crew, led by a short,
powerful-looking man, who wore a jaunty tarpaulin and wide collar, and
carried a spy-glass in his hand, rushed to the rail; and the latter,
after levelling his glass first at him and then at the ship, turned
and issued some orders in a voice so loud and clear that Featherweight
caught every word. There was no mistaking that voice or those shoulders,
and neither was there any mistake possible in regard to the yacht, for
there never was another like her. She was the Lookout; the man with the
broad shoulders and stentorian voice was Uncle Dick; and of those who
accompanied him to the side one was Fred’s own father. The yacht at once
changed her course and stood toward the fugitive, and the bustle on her
deck and the rapid orders that were issued, told him that her boat was
being manned. Would it arrive before the yawl that was now putting off
from the ship? Featherweight asked and answered this question in the
same breath. As far as he was concerned it made no difference whether it
did or not. His father had not followed him clear to Cuba to see another
man make a prisoner of him, and as he was backed up by Uncle Dick and his
crew, the matter could end in but one way.

“In bow!” commanded a stern voice behind him a few seconds later.
“Parker, stand up, and fasten into his collar with the boat-hook.”

The sharp, hissing sound which a boat makes when passing rapidly through
the water, fell upon Fred’s ear at this moment, and looking over his
shoulder, he found the ship’s yawl close upon him. He saw the bowman draw
in his oar, and rise to his feet with the boat-hook in his hand, and an
instant afterward his collar was drawn tight about his neck, his progress
suddenly stopped, and then he was pulled back through the water and
hauled into the yawl.

“I’ll teach you to obey orders, my lad,” said the captain, as he pushed
Featherweight roughly down upon one of the thwarts. “I’ll show you that
a boy who comes aboard my vessel of his own free will, and ships for a
voyage, and receives his advance fair and square, can’t desert when he
feels so inclined. You’ll sup sorrow for this.”

This remark was doubtless made for the benefit of the yawl’s crew, none
of whom were aware of the circumstances under which Fred had been brought
on board the ship. The prisoner made no reply, but took his seat with the
utmost composure, wiped the water from his face and looked toward the
yacht. Her boat was just coming in sight around her stern. It was pulled
by a sturdy crew, who bent to the oars as if they meant business. In the
stern sheets sat Uncle Dick and Mr. Craven.

“I wonder what that schooner’s boat is out for,” said the captain,
suddenly becoming aware that he was pursued.

“I suppose they saw me in the water, and thought they would pick me up,”
observed Featherweight.

“Well, you are picked up already, and they can go back and attend to
their own business. You belong to me.”

The captain said this in an indifferent tone, and settled back in his
seat as if he had disposed of the matter; but it was plain that he was
very much interested in the proceedings of the boat behind him. Now
that the swimmer was picked up, he looked to see her turn back; but
she did nothing of the kind. She came straight on in the wake of his
yawl, and gained with every stroke of her crew. The captain’s interest
presently became uneasiness; and when at last the pursuing boat dashed
up alongside, and her crew seized the gunwale of his yawl, his face was
white with alarm. The instant the two boats touched, Fred was on his
feet, and the next, his father’s arms were about him. The captain heard
the words “Father!” and “My son!” and then his under jaw dropped down,
and his eyes seemed ready to start from their sockets. But he tried
to keep up some show of courage and authority. “Hold on, there!” he
exclaimed. “Hand that boy back here. He is one of my crew, who is trying
to desert me.”

“We happen to know a story worth two of that,” said Uncle Dick, eying the
captain until the latter quailed under his stern glance. “That boy is my
friend’s son. I’ll trouble you to step into this boat.”

“Is he, really?” said the captain, pretending not to hear Uncle Dick’s
order. “In that case I will let him off for a consideration.”

“All the money you will receive for your share in this business, has
been paid to you by Mr. Bell, whom we shall have arrested in less than
ten minutes. Step into this boat.”

“What for?”

“Because we have use for you.”

“And what if I don’t choose to do it?”

“Then I shall take you up bodily and throw you in,” said the old sailor,
rising to his feet in just the right mood to carry his threat into
execution.

“If you don’t wish to suffer with your employer,” said Mr. Craven, who
was much calmer than any one else in Uncle Dick’s boat, “you had better
come with us peaceably.”

The captain protested, and tried to assume a look of injured innocence,
but it did not avail him. The two stern-looking men who were confronting
him would not be denied, and Fred’s jailer finally stepped into Uncle
Dick’s boat, and was carried on board the yacht, while his own crew, who
had listened with wonder to all that passed, pulled back to the ship.

There were twenty men on board the Lookout, all old friends of Uncle
Dick and Mr. Craven, who had volunteered to act as the crew, and assist
in rescuing the prisoner if they overtook the smugglers, and these came
forward in a body to welcome Fred as he sprang over the side. As he was
handed about from one to another, hurried inquiries were made concerning
the crew of the Banner, but Featherweight had no information to give. He
had seen but two of them since his capture by the smugglers, and they had
remained in sight scarcely more than five minutes. Where they went after
they disappeared from his view, and what they did, he had no means of
knowing.

“Never mind,” said Uncle Dick. “We are after a gentleman who knows all
about it; and we intend to make him tell, too.”

The gentleman referred to was of course Mr. Bell. He saw the Lookout when
she came into the harbor, and her appearance was all that was needed to
show him that his affairs were getting into a desperate state. His game
of deception was over now. He might prove more than a match for half a
dozen inexperienced boys, but he knew that in the crew of the yacht, and
especially in her commander and his brother, he would find his equals.
He saw all that happened when Uncle Dick’s boat came up with that of the
captain of the ship; and when the latter gentleman was carried away a
prisoner, and the yacht once more began to move up the harbor, directing
her course toward the place where the Stella lay, he knew that it was
high time he was bestirring himself. Without saying a word to any one,
he jumped ashore, and made his way along the wharf. It was now dark,
and although Mr. Bell could scarcely see or think of anything but the
Lookout, he did not fail to discover something which made it clear to him
that Uncle Dick and his friends had been wasting no time since they came
into the harbor. It was a squad of soldiers who were marching quickly
along the wharf, led by Mr. Gaylord, Mr. Chase, and a custom-house
officer with whom he was well acquainted. As they had not seen him, Mr.
Bell easily avoided them, and as soon as they passed, hurried through the
gate and up the hill out of sight. Had he waited to see what they were
going to do, he would have found that they boarded his vessel from one
side, at the same moment that the crew of the Lookout came pouring over
the other.

“Now, then, Mr. Officer,” said Walter’s father, as he sprang upon the
Stella’s deck, “here she is. Doesn’t she look more like a smuggler than
that little yacht? Hallo! Here’s somebody who can tell us all about
her,” he added, seizing Fred’s hand and shaking it so cordially, that the
boy felt the effects of his grip for half an hour afterward.

“I can show you where the arms and ammunition are,” replied
Featherweight, “and I suppose that’s what you want to know. I am sorry to
say that I can’t tell you anything about Walter and the rest,” he added,
in reply to Mr. Gaylord’s question. “Find Mr. Bell and Captain Conway,
and make them tell.”

At this moment, the master of the Stella appeared at the top of the
companion ladder. Hearing the noise made by the boarding parties, he had
come up to see what was the matter. One look must have been enough for
him, for, without making a single inquiry, he turned and went down into
his cabin again.

The first duty of the officer in command of the soldiers, was to direct
that no one should be allowed to leave the vessel, and his second to
accompany Fred Craven into the hold. Since the boy had last been there,
the cargo had been broken out and stowed again, so as to conceal the
secret hatchway; but Fred knew just where to find it, and there were
men enough close at hand to remove the heavy boxes and hogsheads that
covered it. In a very few minutes, a space was cleared in the middle of
the hold, an axe was brought by one of the party, and the hatch forced
up, disclosing to view the interior of the prison in which Fred had
passed many a gloomy hour. The officer opened his eyes in surprise at the
sight he beheld. He made an examination of the contents of a few of the
boxes and bales, all of which were consigned to Don Casper Nevis, and
then hurrying on deck, ordered every one of the crew of the Stella under
arrest. The principal man, however, and the one he was most anxious to
secure, was nowhere to be found. A thorough search of the town and the
roads leading from it was at once ordered, all the crew of the Lookout
volunteering to assist, except Uncle Dick and the other relatives of the
missing boys, who went into the cabin to question Captain Conway. They
were not as successful in their attempts to gain information as they had
hoped to be. The captain, thoroughly cowed and anxious to propitiate his
captors, answered all their inquiries as well as he could, and revealed
to them the plans Mr. Bell had that afternoon put into operation. He
knew that the Banner had been stolen by Pierre and the deserters, who
intended to go to Havana in her, but he could not tell what had become of
the boys. Chase and Wilson had been decoyed out to Don Casper’s house by
a note which they thought came from Walter, and no doubt they were still
there. Perhaps, too, they knew where the rest of the missing crew could
be found.

While the conversation was going on, the party in the cabin heard the
roar of the guns of the fort, and saw the frigate get under way and
leave the harbor. This was enough to put Uncle Dick and his friends on
nettles. They did not want to remain there inactive, while the Banner
was in danger (how greatly would their anxiety have been increased, had
they known that Walter and his companions were in as much danger, at
that moment, as those who stole their vessel), but their crew were all
ashore looking for Mr. Bell, and so was the custom-house officer, and
they were obliged to await their return. At the end of an hour, their
suspense was relieved by the arrival of the official and some of the
Lookout’s company. Their search had been successful—the fugitive leader
of the smugglers having been overtaken and captured while on his way to
Don Casper’s house. The officers had pumped him most effectually, and
learning that he had been deceived as to the character of the Banner,
and that the precautions he had taken to prevent her leaving the port,
would most likely insure her destruction, he was anxious to do all in his
power to save her. He readily complied with Uncle Dick’s request to sail
with him in pursuit of the frigate, and greatly relieved the fears of Mr.
Chase, by assuring him that what he had heard from Mr. Bell, made him
confident that his son would be found at Don Casper’s.

The rescued boy was the hero of the hour. While the Lookout was flying
over the Gulf toward the bay at the rear of the Don’s plantation, he
was entertaining a group of eager listeners by recounting the various
exciting events that had happened since the day of the “Wild Hog Hunt.”
But it was not long before he was obliged to give place to those who had
adventures more exciting than his own to relate. The officer of the deck,
whom Uncle Dick had instructed to keep a lookout for the frigate, came
down to report that there were lights ahead: and that, although but a
short distance away, they had only just appeared in view—a fact which,
according to his way of thinking, proved something.

“It does, indeed,” said the custom-house officer. “Why should a vessel be
under way on such a night as this without showing lights? She’s another
smuggler. Captain, you will oblige me by going as close to her as you
can.”

If the approaching vessel was engaged in honest business she was
certainly acting in a very suspicious manner. So thought Uncle Dick,
after he had watched her lights for a few minutes. She stood first on
one tack, and then on the other, as if trying to dodge the Lookout, and
this made the old sailor all the more determined that she should not do
it. He kept his vessel headed as straight for her as she could go; the
custom-house official stood by, rubbing his hands in great glee, and
telling himself that another smuggler’s course was almost run; and the
crew leaned over the rail, straining their eyes through the darkness, and
waiting impatiently to obtain the first glimpse of the stranger. She came
into view at last—a modest-looking little craft, with two boys perched
upon the main cross-trees, busy with a broken topmast. The old sailor and
his brother started as if they had been shot, and the former seizing his
trumpet, sprang upon the rail, steadying himself by the fore shrouds.
“Walter!” he yelled.

“Uncle Dick!” came the answer, after a moment’s pause, in surprised and
joyous accents.

After this there was a long silence. Walter, having answered the hail,
had not another word to say, and neither had the Lookout’s commander
or any of his crew, whose amazement and delight were too great for
utterance. They seemed unable to remove their eyes from the little yacht.
What adventures had she passed through since they last saw her? She had
sailed hundreds of miles over a stormy gulf to a country that none of her
crew had ever visited before, had been shot at by the heavy guns of the
fort, chased by a frigate, and stolen by deserters, and there she was,
looking little the worse for her rough experience. At length Uncle Dick’s
voice broke the silence. “Are you all safe?” he inquired.

He asked this question in a trembling voice, grasping the shrouds with a
firmer hold, and bending forward a little as if to meet a shock from some
invisible source, while his crew held their breath, and listened eagerly
for the reply.

“Yes, sir; all except Chase. He is not with us. He must be at Don
Casper’s.”

“Thank Heaven!” was the involuntary ejaculation of everyone of the
Lookout’s company. “To go through so much and come out with the loss
of only one of the crew, who may yet be found alive and well! It is
wonderful!”

Uncle Dick’s face wore an expression that no one had ever seen there
before, and his voice was husky as he seized his brother’s hand, and
wringing it energetically, asked what was to be done now? Mr. Gaylord and
the officer advised an immediate return to Don Casper’s; and in obedience
to Uncle Dick’s orders, the Lookout again filled away, and the Banner
came about, and followed in her wake.

       *       *       *       *       *

The adventures we have attempted to describe in this volume comprise all
the exciting events in the history of the Club’s short sojourn in Cuba,
but by no means all the interesting ones. If time would permit, we might
enter into minute details concerning the grand re-union that took place
in the cabin of the Lookout shortly after she and the Banner entered the
bay, and anchored at the stern of the frigate. It was a happy meeting,
in spite of the gloom thrown over it by the absence of Chase, and the
consequent anxiety and distress of his father. Wilson was obliged to
tell, over and over again, all he knew about the missing boy. He held his
auditors spell-bound for half an hour, and when he finished his story,
Walter began. Among the listeners was the captain of the iron-clad; and
when the young commander told how narrowly he had escaped discovery and
capture when the man-of-war was entering the bay, the officer patted him
on the head and said that he was a brave lad and a good sailor.

Uncle Dick and his crew were highly indignant over what had happened
in the cove at Lost Island. They had heard it all from the master of
the revenue cutter. The old sailor and his brother, who, it will be
remembered, were in the woods searching for Featherweight when the
Banner began her cruise, returned home at daylight, and learning from
Mrs. Gaylord where the boys had gone, they hurried to Bellville, raised
a crew for the Lookout, and put to sea. Before they had gone far they
found the John Basset, drifting helplessly about on the waves, her engine
being disabled. That explained why she did not make her appearance at
Lost Island. Uncle Dick took Mr. Chase and Mr. Craven aboard his own
vessel, listened in amazement to their story, and shortly afterward met
the cutter. He held a long consultation with her captain, who, after
describing what had taken place in the cove, told him that the last he
saw of the Banner she was following after the Stella, which had set sail
for Cuba. Uncle Dick at once filled away in pursuit; but being too old
to believe that a vessel carrying contraband goods would go to so large
a port as Havana, ran down until land was sighted, and then held along
the coast, carefully examining every bay and inlet. As the Lookout was
a much swifter vessel than the Stella, he gained time enough to do all
this work, and to reach Port Platte on the evening of the same day the
smuggler arrived there.

Mutual explanations being ended, the entire party, accompanied by a squad
from the frigate, went ashore to look for Chase. They searched high and
low (the Club found time to peep into the wine cellar where he and Wilson
had been confined), but could find nothing of him. At daylight the three
vessels sailed in company for Port Platte, and the whole of that day and
the succeeding one was spent in fruitless search. Chase had disappeared
as utterly as if he had never had an existence. Being satisfied at last
that he had shipped on board some vessel bound for the States, his father
consented to sail with his friends for Bellville. They reached the
village without any mishap, and in ample season for the Club to perfect
numerous plans for their amusement during the holidays. Some interesting
events happened about that time—one especially which threw our heroes
into ecstacies—and what they were, shall be told in “THE SPORTSMAN’S CLUB
AMONG THE TRAPPERS.”


THE END.




Famous Castlemon Books.


No author of the present day has become a greater favorite with boys
than “Harry Castlemon,” every book by him is sure to meet with hearty
reception by young readers generally. His naturalness and vivacity leads
his readers from page to page with breathless interest, and when one
volume is finished the fascinated reader, like Oliver Twist, asks “for
more.”

By Harry Castlemon.

    =GUNBOAT SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. In box containing the
      following. 6 vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold     =$7 50=

        (Sold separately.)

    =Frank the Young Naturalist.= Illustrated. 16mo.             =1 25=

    =Frank in the Woods.= Illustrated. 16mo.                     =1 25=

    =Frank on the Prairie.= Illustrated. 16mo.                   =1 25=

    =Frank on a Gunboat.= Illustrated. 16mo.                     =1 25=

    =Frank before Vicksburg.= Illustrated. 16mo.                 =1 25=

    =Frank on the Lower Mississippi.= Illustrated. 16mo.         =1 25=

    =GO AHEAD SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. In box containing the
      following. 3 vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold      =3 75=

        (Sold separately.)

    =Go Ahead=; or, The Fisher Boy’s Motto. Illustrated. 16mo.   =1 25=

    =No Moss=; or, The Career of a Rolling Stone. Illustrated.
      16mo.                                                      =1 25=

    =Tom Newcombe=; or, The Boy of Bad Habits. Illustrated.
      16mo.                                                      =1 25=

    =ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. In box
      containing the following. 3 vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra,
      black and gold                                             =3 75=

        (Sold separately.)

    =Frank at Don Carlos’ Rancho.= Illustrated. 16mo.            =1 25=

    =Frank among the Rancheros.= Illustrated. 16mo.              =1 25=

    =Frank in the Mountains.= Illustrated. 16mo.                 =1 25=

    =SPORTSMAN’S CLUB SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. In box
      containing the following. 3 vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra,
      black and gold                                             =3 75=

        (Sold separately.)

    =The Sportsman’s Club in the Saddle.= Illustrated. 16mo.
      Cloth, extra, black and gold                               =1 25=

    =The Sportsman’s Club Afloat.= Being the 2d volume of the
      “Sportsman’s Club Series.” Illustrated. 16mo. Cloth,
      extra, black and gold                                      =1 25=

    =The Sportsman’s Club among the Trappers.= Being the 3d
      volume of the “Sportsman’s Club Series.” Illustrated.
      16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold                         =1 25=

    =FRANK NELSON SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. In box
      containing the following. 3 vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra,
      black and gold                                             =3 75=

        (Sold separately.)

    =Snowed up=; or, The Sportsman’s Club in the Mountains.
      Illustrated. 16mo.                                         =1 25=

    =Frank Nelson in the Forecastle=; or, the Sportsman’s
      Club among the Whalers. Illustrated. 16mo.                 =1 25=

    =The Boy Traders=; or, The Sportsman’s Club among the
      Boers. Illustrated. 16mo.                                  =1 25=

    =BOY TRAPPER SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. In box
      containing the following. 3 vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra,
      black and gold                                             =3 75=

        (Sold separately.)

    =The Buried Treasure=; or, Old Jordan’s “Haunt.” Being the
      1st volume of the “Boy Trapper Series.” Illustrated. 16mo. =1 25=

    =The Boy Trapper=; or, How Dave filled the Order. Being
      the 2d volume of the “Boy Trapper Series.” Illustrated.
      16mo.                                                      =1 25=

    =The Mail Carrier.= Being the 3d and concluding volume of
      the “Boy Trapper Series.” Illustrated. 16mo.               =1 25=

    =ROUGHING IT SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. In box containing
      the following. 3 vols. Cloth, extra, black and gold        =3 75=

        (Sold separately.)

    =George in Camp=; or, Life on the Plains. Being the 1st
      volume of the “Roughing It Series.” Illustrated. 16mo.     =1 25=

    =George at the Wheel=; or, Life in a Pilot House. Being the
      2d volume of the “Roughing It Series.” Illustrated. 16mo.  =1 25=

    =George at the Fort=; or, Life Among the Soldiers. Being
      the 3d and concluding volume of the “Roughing It Series.”
      Illustrated, 16mo.                                         =1 25=

    =ROD AND GUN SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. In box containing
      the following. 3 vols. Cloth, extra, black and gold        =3 75=

        (Sold separately.)

    =Don Gordon’s Shooting Box.= Being the 1st volume of the
      “Rod and Gun Series.” Illustrated. 16mo.                   =1 25=

    =Rod and Gun.= Being the second volume of the “Rod and
      Gun Series.” Illustrated. 16mo.                            =1 25=

    =The Young Wild-Fowlers.= Being the third volume of the
      “Rod and Gun Series.” Illustrated. 16mo.                   =1 25=




Alger’s Renowned Books.


Horatio Alger, Jr., has attained distinction as one of the most popular
writers of books for boys, and the following list comprises all of his
best books.

By Horatio Alger, Jr.


    =RAGGED DICK SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr., in box
      containing the following. 6 vols. 16mo. Cloth,
      extra, black and gold.                                    =$7 50=

        (Sold separately.)

    =Ragged Dick=; or, Street Life in New York. Illustrated.
      16mo.                                                      =1 25=

    =Fame and Fortune=; or, The Progress of Richard Hunter.
      Illustrated. 16mo.                                         =1 25=

    =Mark the Match Boy=; or, Richard Hunter’s Ward.
      Illustrated. 16mo.                                         =1 25=

    =Rough and Ready=; or, Life among the New York Newsboys.
      Illustrated. 16mo.                                         =1 25=

    =Ben the Luggage Boy=; or, Among the Wharves. Illustrated.
      16mo.                                                      =1 25=

    =Rufus and Rose=; or, The Fortunes of Rough and Ready.
      Illustrated. 16mo.                                         =1 25=


    =TATTERED TOM SERIES.= (FIRST SERIES.) By Horatio Alger,
      Jr., in box containing the following. 4 vols. 16mo.
      Cloth, extra, black and gold                               =5 00=

        (Sold separately.)

    =Tattered Tom=; or, The Story of a Street Arab. Illustrated.
      16mo.                                                      =1 25=

    =Paul the Peddler=; or, The Adventures of a Young Street
      Merchant. Illustrated. 16mo.                               =1 25=

    =Phil the Fiddler=; or, The Young Street Musician.
      Illustrated. 16mo.                                         =1 25=

    =Slow and Sure=; or, From the Sidewalk to the Shop.
      Illustrated. 16mo.                                         =1 25=


    =TATTERED TOM SERIES.= (SECOND SERIES.) In box containing
      the following. 4 vols. Cloth, extra, black and gold        =5 00=

        (Sold separately.)

    =Julius=; or, The Street Boy Out West. Illust’d. 16mo.       =1 25=

    =The Young Outlaw=; or, Adrift in the World. Illustrated.
      16mo.                                                      =1 25=

    =Sam’s Chance and How He Improved it.= Illustrated. 16mo.    =1 25=

    =The Telegraph Boy.= Illustrated. 16mo                       =1 25=


    =LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES.= (FIRST SERIES.) By Horatio Alger,
      Jr., in box containing the following. 4 vols. 16mo.
      Cloth, extra, black and gold                               =5 00=

        (Sold separately.)

    =Luck and Pluck=; or, John Oakley’s Inheritance.
      Illustrated. 16mo.                                         =1 25=

    =Sink or Swim=; or, Harry Raymond’s Resolve.
      Illustrated. 16mo.                                         =1 25=

    =Strong and Steady=; or, Paddle Your Own Canoe.
      Illustrated. 16mo.                                         =1 25=

    =Strive and Succeed=; or, The Progress of Walter Conrad.
      Illustrated. 16mo.                                         =1 25=


    =LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES.= (SECOND SERIES.) In box
      containing the following. 4 vols. 16mo. Cloth,
      extra, black and gold                                      =5 00=

        (Sold separately.)

    =Try and Trust=; or, The Story of a Bound Boy.
      Illustrated. 16mo.                                         =1 25=

    =Bound to Rise=; or, How Harry Walton Rose in the World.
      Illustrated. 16mo.                                         =1 25=

    =Risen from the Ranks=; or, Harry Walton’s Success.
      Illustrated. 16mo.                                         =1 25=

    =Herbert Carter’s Legacy=; or, The Inventor’s Son.
      Illustrated. 16mo.                                         =1 25=


    =BRAVE AND BOLD SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr., in box
      containing the following. 4 vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra,
      black and gold                                             =5 00=

        (Sold separately.)

    =Brave and Bold=; or, The Story of a Factory Boy.
      Illustrated. 16mo.                                         =1 25=

    =Jack’s Ward=; or, The Boy Guardian. Illustrated. 16mo.      =1 25=

    =Shifting for Himself=; or, Gilbert Greyson’s Fortunes.
      Illustrated. 16mo.                                         =1 25=

    =Wait and Hope=; or, Ben Bradford’s Motto. Illustrated.
      16mo.                                                      =1 25=


    =CAMPAIGN SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr., in box containing
      the following. 3 vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold  =3 75=

        (Sold separately.)

    =Frank’s Campaign=; or, the Farm and the Camp. Illustrated.
      16mo.                                                      =1 25=

    =Paul Prescott’s Charge.= Illustrated. 16mo.                 =1 25=

    =Charlie Codman’s Cruise.= Illustrated, 16mo.                =1 25=


    =PACIFIC SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols. 16mo.
      Cloth, extra, black and gold                               =5 00=

        (Sold separately.)

    =The Young Adventurer=; or, Tom’s Trip Across the Plains.
      Illustrated. 16mo.                                         =1 25=

    =The Young Miner=; or, Tom Nelson in California.
      Illustrated. 16mo.                                         =1 25=

    =The Young Explorer=; or, Among the Sierras. Illustrated.
      16mo.                                                      =1 25=

    =Ben’s Nugget=; or, A Boy’s Search for Fortune. A Story
      of the Pacific Coast. Illustrated. 16mo.                   =1 25=


    =The Young Circus Rider=; or, The Mystery of Robert Rudd.
      Being the 1st volume of the “Atlantic Series.”
      Illustrated. 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold.           =1 25=

    =Do and Dare=; or, A Brave Boy’s Fight for Fortune.
      Being the 2d volume of the “Atlantic Series.”
      Illustrated. 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold            =1 25=

    =Hector’s Inheritance=; or, Boys of Smith Institute.
      Being the 3d volume of the “Atlantic Series.”
      Illustrated. 16mo. Cloth, extra, black and gold            =1 25=




By C. A. Stephens.


Rare books for boys—bright, breezy, wholesome and instructive—full of
adventure and incident, and information upon natural history—they blend
instruction with amusement—contain much useful and valuable information
upon the habits of animals, and plenty of adventure, fun and jollity.

    =CAMPING OUT SERIES.= By C. A. Stephens. In box
      containing the following. 6 vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra,
      black and gold                                            =$7 50=

        (Sold separately.)

    =Camping Out.= As recorded by “Kit.” With eight full-page
      illustrations. 16mo.                                       =1 25=

    =Left on Labrador=; or, The Cruise of the Schooner Yacht
      “Curlew.” As recorded by “Wash.” With eight full-page
      illustrations. 16mo.                                       =1 25=

    =Off to the Geysers=; or, The Young Yachters in Iceland. As
      recorded by “Wade.” With eight full-page illustrations.
      16mo.                                                      =1 25=

    =Lynx Hunting.= From Notes by the Author of “Camping Out.”
      With eight full-page illustrations. 16mo.                  =1 25=

    =Fox Hunting.= As recorded by “Raed.” With eight full-page
      illustrations. 16mo.                                       =1 25=

    =On the Amazon=; or, the Cruise of the “Rambler.” As
      recorded by “Wash.” With eight full-page illustrations.
      16mo.                                                      =1 25=




By J. T. Trowbridge.


These stories will rank among the best of Mr. Trowbridge’s books for the
young, and he has written some of the best of our juvenile literature.

    =JACK HAZARD SERIES.= By J. T. Trowbridge. In box
      containing the following. 6 vols. 16mo. Cloth, extra,
      black and gold.                                           =$7 50=

        (Sold separately.)

    =Jack Hazard and his Fortunes.= With twenty illustrations.
      16mo.                                                      =1 25=

    =A Chance for Himself=; or, Jack Hazard and his Treasure.
      With nineteen illustrations. 16mo.                         =1 25=

    =Doing his Best.= With twenty illustrations. 16mo.           =1 25=

    =Fast Friends.= With seventeen illustrations. 16mo.          =1 25=

    =The Young Surveyor=; or, Jack on the Prairies. With
      twenty-one illustrations. 16mo.                            =1 25=

    =Lawrence’s Adventures Among the Ice Cutters=, Glass
      Makers, Coal Miners, Iron Men and Ship Builders. With
      twenty-four illustrations. 16mo.                           =1 25=




By Edward S. Ellis.


A New Series of Books for Boys, equal in interest to the “Castlemon” and
“Alger” books. His power of description of Indian life and character is
equal to the best of Cooper.

    =BOY PIONEER SERIES.= By Edward S. Ellis. In box containing
      the following. 3 vols. Illustrated. Cloth, extra, black
      and gold                                                  =$3 75=

        (Sold separately.)

    =Ned in the Block House=; or, Life on the Frontier. Being
      the 1st volume of the “Boy Pioneer Series.” Illustrated.
      16mo.                                                      =1 25=

    =Ned in the Woods.= Being the 2d volume of the “Boy Pioneer
      Series.” Illustrated. 16mo.                                =1 25=

    =Ned on the River.= Being the 3d volume of the “Boy Pioneer
      Series.” Illustrated. 16mo.                                =1 25=





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