Tosay that the fisher-boy was astonished at what had taken place, would not half express his feelings. He had never imagined Sam to be so desperate a character, and never, until then, had he felt in the least afraid of him. He had always believed himself to be able to beat the bully at any of his games; but he now had learned that he had to deal with one who was quite as smart as himself. Being taken prisoner, and confined like a felon, were new chapters in his experience. There was no playing about it; it was a reality; and Sam and his band were in earnest. What would they do with him? was a question that the fisher-boy more than once asked himself, but without arriving at any satisfactory conclusion. In fact, he did not intend that the governor should have a chance to do any thing to him; for it was his intention to make some desperate attempts to effect his escape.
There was another thing that surprised Bob quite as much as his captors, and that was, that Tom Newcombe should condescend to become a member of the organization, especially as he was obliged to take a position inthe ranks. But, after thinking the matter over, the fisher-boy saw through it all; and he imagined that he was quite as well posted in regard to the object Tom had in view as was the new member himself. The latter had repeatedly said that if he did not own and sail that yacht, no one about Newport should long enjoy it, and, finding that his father had no intention of giving it to him, he had resolved to do something desperate. He at first decided to sink the Storm King in the harbor; and afterward he determined to go to sea in her. She was the most beautiful little vessel that had ever been seen about the village, and he could not bear the thought of destroying her; and besides, by capturing her, and running her out to sea, he would "get even" with both his father and the principal at the same time. He would take revenge upon the professor by depriving him of his fine yacht; and upon his father, by never again showing his face in Newport as long as he lived. But Tom could not do this by himself; he must have help; for he knew that a guard-post would be established upon the vessel, which was to be kept in the bay, back of the academy, and that any attempt to capture her would be met with stubborn resistance. He knew, also, that there were a good many "old sailors" at the academy, who would very soon fall in love with their new boat, if they hadn't done so already, and that they would not hesitate to thrash any boy who might be caught prowling around her at night, especially if they had the slightest reason for supposing that he intended to do the yacht an injury.If the society of Night-hawks had still been in existence, Tom would have applied to its members for the help he needed, and, very likely, he would have got it; but the village boys having all deserted him, he was obliged to look elsewhere for friends. The first boy he thought of was Sam Barton. He knew him to be a very reckless fellow, and he believed that an expedition organized for the purpose of seizing the Storm King would suit him exactly. More than that, Sam had a great deal of influence with the ferry-boys, every one of whom would rush to his standard, and Tom would again find himself the honored leader of a secret organization. Tom and the governor talked this matter over while they were under the pier, and, although the bully was at first inclined to be suspicious of his visitor, who, he thought, was too much of a "swell" to associate with poor ferry-boys, he finally became convinced that he was in earnest, and entered heartily into all his plans, with one exception. He promised to raise a crew large enough to seize the yacht, and to take her to sea after they had captured her; but, as for getting up a new society, and making Tom captain of it, that was another thing. He was the leader of a band of fellows, who, for bravery and discipline, had never been equaled in the village, and if Tom would promise to keep every thing secret, and to obey all the laws, he would take him in as a member. This proposition, of course, did not exactly suit one who imagined that he was born to command, but it was his only chance to obtain the assistance he needed, and he finallyconsented; believing that, after he had become fairly settled as a member, he could induce the boys to break the chief, and appoint him in his stead. So Tom became one of the Crusoe band; and while Will Atkins was following up the fisher-boy to see that he went home, Sam and the rest of his friends were seated in the yawl, under the pier, initiating the new member into the mysteries of the society. As we have seen, he soon became heartily sick of the band. He had never before associated with such a rough, quarrelsome set of boys, and if he could have thought of any other plan to secure possession of the yacht, he never would have put his foot inside the cave again. Moreover, the bully, with an impudence and a disregard for truth that utterly confounded the new member, had accused him of theft. The fisher-boy, angry as he was, could not help laughing when he recalled to mind the expression of astonishment that passed over Tom's face, when the chief informed him that if Bob escaped he would be in danger of being sent to jail. Although he was not in very comfortable circumstances just then, he could not help thinking that Tom's situation was worse than his.
Bob, however, did not waste a great deal of time in thinking about Tom Newcombe. He was too much interested in his own affairs just then; and scarcely had Sam disappeared, when he straightened up, and began to test the strength of the rope with which his hands were bound. It proved to be much too strong for him to break, but the knot, having been loosely tied, slippeda little, and that gave him encouragement. The dog seemed to understand that he was placed at the door for the purpose of keeping an eye on the prisoner, for every time Bob moved, he would give him notice that he was still wide-awake, by growling savagely. The fisher-boy, however, was not very much afraid of him. Before the light was put out, he had taken pains to examine the chain, which he noticed was sufficiently large and heavy to hold a good sized vessel; and, until the dog became strong enough to break that chain, he was safe. He paid no heed to the warning growls, but devoted all his attention to the work of freeing his arms, which, for a long time, he had hopes of being able to accomplish. But the governor had tied the rope himself, and, although the knot slipped a little at every exertion of strength, he could not loosen it sufficiently to enable him to free his hands. Had he been fresh he might have succeeded; but, besides having done a hard day's work at his wood-pile, he was nearly exhausted by the efforts he had made to escape from the bully, and he began to feel the need of rest. Stretching himself out on the sail, he settled into as comfortable a position as it was possible for him to assume with his hands and feet securely bound, wondered whether his mother was waiting for him at home, and how long the governor intended to keep him a prisoner, and in a moment more was fast asleep. How long he slept he was unable to tell. He was aroused by the growling of the dog, and, after listening a moment, he heard a slight noise outside the cave. Then the boardwas removed, and he recognized the voice of Sam Barton, ordering the dog to keep silent.
"Bobby Jennings!" said he, as soon as he had succeeded in quieting the brute, "be you there, all safe an' sound?"
"Of course I am!" replied the fisher-boy. "How do you suppose I could be anywhere else after you have tied me hand and foot, and put a dog at the door to guard me?"
"That's all right," said the chief, who seemed to be greatly relieved to learn that his prisoner had not found means to effect his escape. "Come in, Friday, an' strike a light."
Bob heard the two boys stumbling about in the darkness; for, although it was broad daylight, the cave was as dark as it had been at midnight, and when the lantern was lighted, he saw that Sam carried a huge slice of meat in one hand, and a tin dinner pail in the other.
"Here's your share," said he, throwing the meat to the dog; "an' now, Bobby, if you'll promise, honor bright an' no jokin', not to try any tricks on us, we'll untie your arms an' give you a chance to eat the grub we've brought you."
The fisher-boy readily promised to behave himself, for he was tired of sitting with his hands bound behind him. "How do you suppose that I could get away?" he asked, as Sam began to remove the rope from his arms. "You are both as large as I am, and besides, you've got a dog to help you."
"That's nothin'," said Friday. "We aint a goin' to trust you too fur, an' that's jest all about it. No tricks, now."
After Bob had stretched his cramped arms he felt so much better that he asked Sam to untie his feet, a request which the latter positively refused to grant. "You don't need your legs to eat breakfast with," said he; "so pitch into that bread an' taters, an' don't keep us waitin'."
Whatever else Bob had to say about the governor of the Crusoe band, he could not accuse him of wishing to starve him, for Sam had filled the bucket with all kinds of eatables that he had been able to procure. Never had a better breakfast been served up to him, and never had he eaten a meal in so romantic a spot as the cave appeared to be at that moment. Bob could not help feeling amused, and he thought that the scene there presented, was well worth the pencil of an artist. The fisher-boy sat on the piece of sail which had served him for a bed, his back against his skiff, his legs, which were stretched out straight before him, almost wrapped up in ropes, the dinner bucket at his side, and a slice of bread in one hand and a piece of cold meat in the other. On one side of him stood the chief of the Crusoe band, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his hat pushed back on his head, one hand resting on the flour barrel, and the other holding the boat-hook which had done him such good service the night before. In front of him stood the governor's man, Friday, leaning carelessly against the wall, with his arms folded; but within easyreach of him was a heavy oar, which could be seized, in case the prisoner made any attempts at escape. The space on the other side of him was occupied by the dog, which, having finished his breakfast, sat with his head turned on one side, watching the bread and meat as it disappeared down Bob's hungry throat, no doubt envying him his enjoyment. The lantern, which stood on the flour barrel, beside the copy of Robinson Crusoe, threw a dim, ghostly light over the scene, and the fisher-boy could almost bring himself to imagine that the old feudal times—stories of which he had read and wondered at—had returned, and that he was taking part in them; that the cave represented the dungeon of some ancient castle, and that the governor and his man were the retainers of some cruel nobleman, into whose hands he had fallen.
While Bob was eating his breakfast, neither he nor his jailers spoke a word. The latter evidently had nothing to talk about, and the fisher-boy, knowing that he could not say much that was complimentary to Sam and his band, thought it best to keep silent. The governor seemed to be in excellent spirits since he captured his rival, and Bob knew that it was policy to keep him so if he could. He had not forgotten that Sam was the boy who had caused him a great deal of trouble by sinking his scow, and stealing his fine skiff, but he could not afford to show that he cherished revengeful feelings about it.
"Have you had enough?" asked the chief, when thefisher-boy had finished the last mouthful of his breakfast. "If you haint, say the word, an' we'll fetch you more."
"I have had a great plenty," replied Bob; "and now, Sam, I would like to know how long you intend to keep me a prisoner here?"
"Well, that depends!" answered the governor; "you see, Bobby, it wouldn't be a very smart trick fur us to let you out till we get ready to leave Newport. You know too much, an' you might be mean enough to make us a great deal of trouble."
"Very likely I should," replied the fisher-boy, bluntly. "But I would rather be kept here six months than to be in your boots when Mr. Grimes gets his hands on you."
"You needn't lose no sleep worryin' about us," returned Sam. "If we don't know enough to take care of ourselves we ought to get into trouble. Now, we must bid you good-by, Bobby," he continued, as he coolly proceeded to fasten his prisoner's arms behind him, "an' we hope you'll have a jolly time till we get back. Two is company, you know, so you an' the dog can talk over your secrets without bein' afraid that somebody will hear you. It aint no ways likely that we shall call on you agin afore night, 'cause it aint exactly safe fur us to come here often durin' the day-time. If we hear any body askin' fur you, we'll tell 'em that the last time we seed you, you were in good health and spirits."
The fisher-boy listened in silence to this insulting speech, and scarcely had the door closed behind thegovernor, when, in spite of the angry growls of the dog, he renewed his efforts to free himself from his bonds. He met with no better success than before; for Sam had taken a great deal of pains in fastening the rope, and he was finally obliged to give it up as a bad job. For want of some better way to pass the time, he stretched himself out on his hard bed, and tried in vain to go to sleep. The rope had been drawn so tightly that his arms began to swell, and this caused him so much pain that sometimes he found it exceedingly difficult to keep back his tears. How he lived through the day, he scarcely knew. Time moved on laggard wings, and all he had to divert his attention, during the fourteen hours that elapsed between the visits of his jailers, were the rattling of the wagons on the pavement over his head, and the angry growls of the dog, which were kept up at short intervals, during the day. How Bob wished that his hands were free! That brute, large and savage as he was, would not long stand between him and his freedom. Then, for a long time, the fisher-boy lay with his face downward—that being the most comfortable position he could assume—and pondered upon the chances of vanquishing the dog, in case he should get into a fight with him.
Eight o'clock came at last, and with it arrived Sam Barton and his band, including Tom Newcombe, who brought a splendid double-barrel shot-gun, two jointed fish-poles, a quantity of hooks and lines, and also his game chickens, all of which he offered to increase thegeneral stock. Every thing was accepted, in spite of the objections raised by Will Atkins, who argued that not only did the book fail to mention whether or not Crusoe's gun was a double-barrel, but it was also silent on the subject of game chickens. It said nothing about fish-poles either, especially jointed ones; and to show that his objection was well founded, Atkins picked up the book, and turned to a picture which represented Robinson catching a dolphin with a hand-line. The governor listened patiently to all he had to say, but he failed to discover any reason why he should not adhere to his decision.
"Any body with half sense could see that a double-barrel gun is a handy thing to have about," said the chief. "'Spose Tommy should happen to get into a fight with two Injuns, while he was out alone on the island, hunting for goats! couldn't he easy kill 'em both? Fish-poles, too, are sometimes worth more'n they cost. Mebbe our island, when we find it, will be different from Crusoe's. Mebbe there'll be creeks on it, with sunfish an' perch in 'em; an' whoever heared of ketchin' them kind of fish with hand-lines? An' as fur them game chickens, they will be jest the things we need. We may get tired of livin' on turtle's eggs, you know."
"That makes no odds," replied the dissatisfied member. "You wouldn't take that ar watch of mine, an' I aint a goin' to let them things of Tommy's go, neither."
In short, Will Atkins stubbornly stuck out for what he believed to be his rights, and the result was, that he very soon succeeded in exhausting all the patience of the chief, who backed him into a corner, and was about to reduce him to subjection, when Tom, who did not like to see any fighting, began to beg for him. The governor hesitated a moment, undecided whether to listen to the appeals of humanity or to follow the stern mandate of duty, and then released the culprit; not, however, without solemnly promising him that the very next time he dared oppose his chief, he would certainly suffer.
While the band remained in the cave, the fisher-boy's arms were left unbound, so that he could eat his supper; but as soon as the general business of the society had been transacted, the governor ordered Bob to get ready to be tied up again, and the band to adjourn to the yawl for the purpose of talking over some of their plans.
They did not want their prisoner to overhear them, and, as they were afraid to trust him outside of the cave, they were obliged to go out themselves. The chief appeared to be very much concerned about the comfort of the fisher-boy, for, when he saw how badly his arms were swollen, he tried a new way of confining them. He cut off about two feet of the rope, each end of which he made fast to the prisoner's arms, above the elbows, with a "round turn and two half hitches." This left Bob's hands and the lower part of his arms free—an advantage that he was quick to perceive, and which he determinedto use, if an opportunity was offered. As soon as this operation was performed, Sam and his band left the cave, and for the next half hour an animated discussion was carried on outside the door. The fisher-boy, believing that some important plan was being talked over, listened with all his ears; but, to his disappointment, he could not catch a word of what was said, for the boys talked in whispers. Finally, the chief re-entered the cave, and, after examining the prisoner's bonds, he extinguished the lantern, and went out again. Bob heard a slight splashing in the water as the yawl moved away, and when he was sure that the band had left the vicinity of the cave, he straightened up and prepared to put into execution a plan for escape which he had thought over while the debate was going on at the door. Putting his hand into his pocket he pulled out a large jack-knife which he opened with his teeth, and in less time than it takes to write it, his arms were free. The work of releasing his legs was quite as quickly accomplished. A few rapid blows with the knife severed the rope with which they were confined, and then Bob slowly, and with great difficulty, raised himself to his feet. "Hold on there," said he to himself, as a loud growl from the dog gave him notice that every move he made was being closely watched, "I'll be ready for you in a very few minutes!"
But in this the fisher-boy was mistaken. His "few minutes" proved to be nearly half an hour; and even at the end of that time he had scarcely recovered theuse of his legs. But delays were dangerous—perhaps he had already wasted too much time—and as soon as he could walk without leaning against the wall, he was ready to attend to the dog, which must be put out of the way before he could leave his prison. Bob did not intend to fight him in the dark, however, for that would give the animal too much advantage. He knew there was a box of matches on one of the shelves at the left hand of the door, for he had heard his jailers feeling around for it every time they came in, and his first hard work must be to find it. There was no danger of stumbling upon the dog in the darkness, for the animal kept up an incessant barking and growling, and thus Bob was able to keep out of his reach. He had no difficulty in finding the shelves, and after a few moments search, during which he several times stopped and listened, almost imagining that he heard his enemies returning, he placed his hand upon the box of matches. The next thing was the lantern. Securing that was a more difficult and dangerous task, for the chief had left it on the flour barrel, where he could not get at it without placing himself within reach of the dog. Bob lit one of the matches, and took a hurried survey of the cave. Directly in front of him was the dog, which was standing upon his hind legs, and jumping the full length of his chain in his efforts to reach the prisoner. Behind the dog was the flour barrel, on which stood the lantern. In one corner of the cave, opposite the door, was a pair of oars, either one of which was long enough to reachfrom where he stood to the flour barrel. By the time Bob made these observations the match was consumed. He lit another, and picked up one of the oars, which he extended toward the lantern, when the dog seized the blade in his teeth and literally smashed it in pieces. In return for the damage he had done, he received a blow over the head from the handle of the oar, which knocked him down. The fisher-boy hoped he had finished him; but before he had time to make any observations his match went out. A third was struck, and the dog was discovered upon his feet again, apparently as full of fight as ever; but when Bob stretched the oar out toward the lantern, he backed over against the door.
His first attempt to catch the handle of the lantern upon the end of the oar was a failure; so were the second and third, on account of the interference of the dog. The fourth, however, was successful; and after he had picked up the wick so that the lamp would give a strong light, he began to look about the cave for some more suitable weapon than the stump of the oar. A small hatchet, which was stowed away on one of the shelves caught his eye. That was just the thing he needed; and, after placing the lantern upon the shelf where it could not get knocked over during the struggle, Bob took the hatchet in his hand, rolled up his sleeves, and began the fight without ceremony. There was a little more barking and growling, a few desperate springs, a savage blow with the hatchet, then one or two convulsive kicks, and that was the end of it.
It was the end of Sam Barton's favorite, too. It had all been done in a moment, and the fisher-boy was glad indeed that it was so. Had the struggle been a protracted one, as he had expected it would be, the result might have been different. Not only was he totally unfit to sustain a lengthened contest, but he knew the necessity there was of getting out of the cave as soon as possible. He was unable to tell where the governor and his band had gone, or how soon they would return, and the quicker he left his prison the better would be his chances for escape; for, although the dog was out of the way, his freedom was by no means assured. Hastily extinguishing the lantern, the fisher-boy crept up close to the door and listened. All was still, and believing that the coast was clear, he removed the board and crawled cautiously out of the cave; but, just as his feet touched the ground, a pair of strong arms were thrown around his neck, and before he could think twice, he found himself flat on his back, with the governor, his man Friday, and Jack Spaniard on top of him.