“He’s a tougher man in a scrap than I thought he was,â€� observed one of the yacht’s crew—Groton, in fact—as he ruefully patted a very sore place on his cheek bone that promised to develop into a glorious black eye. “I always knew he could fight, but this is the first time I ever came against him. Holy mackerel! How he can hit!â€�
Kennedy was sitting up, spitting sand from his mouth and looking around in a dazed fashion. He groaned as he put a hand to his head. He had come down with a terrific bump when Nick Carter had whirled him to the ground at the end of their argument.
“What the blazes hit me?� exclaimed Kennedy.
He got stiffly to his feet and staggered toward where Nick Carter still lay on the beach, ere he went on, in a confused way:
“That’s it, eh? Well, I’m willing to tackle anything human. But when it comes to stopping a whirlwind, I’ll duck every time.�
For a few moments he stood looking down at the detective, who did not make a move to indicate that he was conscious, although he was keeping close watch of everything from beneath his half-shut eyelids.
Kennedy was deeply impressed with the wonderful[Pg 35]battle the detective had put up, and he looked over the splendidly built frame with the admiration that one strong man always vouchsafes to another—even though that other may be a foe.
Neither Kennedy nor the two sailors still on their feet had any idea that there was somebody else gazing at Nick Carter from behind the bushes, with anxious eyes and rapidly heaving bosom.
Yet so it was. More remarkable still, it was a woman!
The Baroness Latour, as she was called in the Hotel Amsterdam—although better known to Nick Carter and to many others in different parts of the world as the lovely Mademoiselle Valeria, the adventuress who always had kept out of the grip of the law, despite many illegitimate transactions—had known what was going to take place when the boat left the hotel, carrying the unconscious Lord Vinton.
She had not been so sound asleep in her room as might have been thought.
What she was doing now was quite in accord with her usual methods.
She liked to be sure that her directions were properly carried out, and one of the secrets of her hold over her men was that they never knew when she would appear before them.
In the present case there was no necessity for her to make herself known, she thought. So she contented herself with looking in silence.
There was a particular reason for her coming now to see what would be done about getting Drago from the place where he had been left in the woods to the yacht. That reason was that she had learned of the intention of Nick Carter to find Drago, somehow, and she knew the detective well enough to hear that he would stumble on the boat that was to put in at the edge of the woods to get the prisoner.
If Nick Carter happened to find out what was going on, she did not know what might be the end of it all.
Perhaps the strange power he exercised over her heart without desiring to do so may have had something to do with Mademoiselle Valeria’s anxiety.
Be that as it may, she was there.
Not a word or movement escaped her. She was content to let her men carry out their work in their own way.
Now that Nick Carter had been overcome, and his man, the porter, lay on the ground with a bullet through his thigh, she had no doubt that all would go as she had planned.
“I wish we had that man with us,� observed Kennedy musingly, as he gazed down at Nick. “He’s a great fighter! Wouldn’t he have been in his element as skipper of a windjammer in the old days, when the captain was expected to straighten out every row that came up in the fo’c’s’le. However, there is no time to lose. Let’s see how these boys of ours are.�
Three out of the seven were in bad shape. Two had been shot through the arm by Nick—for he had been careful not to plant his bullets where they would be fatal—and the third had been knocked out by the detective’s fist on the point of the chin.
A strong dose of whisky from Kennedy’s flask administered to each, together with some vigorous rubbing of the forehead of the man who had been laid low by the[Pg 36]knock-out punch, brought them all around, and the first mate turned to Mike Corrigan.
Hastily bandaging his wounded leg, Kennedy told him to stay where he was for a while, and then to crawl out into the open, where some of the people going to the golf links would be sure to see him.
The three men who had been hurt managed to stagger into the boat. But it was evident that they would not be any particular use.
The two who had remained uninjured, besides one who had been left in charge of the boat and prisoners, and had not taken part in the fight, would have to row and steer, leaving Kennedy to take general charge.
“Now, boys,� directed Kennedy, when everything else had been arranged, “pick up this man who has given us all the trouble. We’ll take him along.�
Mademoiselle Valeria—to call her by her real name—smiled approvingly as two of the sailors stooped and picked up the seemingly helpless detective and lifted him into the boat.
“Shall we bend a rope around him?� asked Groton.
“Not necessary!� said Kennedy. “He can’t do any harm now. Let’s hurry back to theIdaline.�
The detective made no sign. He suffered his eyes to close a little more, and when he was lifted and placed in the bottom of the boat, he allowed himself to drop limply just as he was put.
Valeria saw the boat shoved off from the bank toward the middle of the bay, and then swing around in the direction of the yacht.
“I wonder what Colonel Pearson will say to me when I go aboard theIdalineto-morrow,� she murmured, as she made her way back to the hotel.
She was still thinking this when she went to bed, and this time dropped into a sleep that lasted till morning.
Meanwhile, the two unwounded sailors took the oars and rowed hard toward the yacht, while the two other men, who were not shot—including the one who had been knocked out by Nick Carter, but who had now practically recovered—were ready to relieve their shipmates when they should grow tired.
Kennedy sat in the stern, steering, and apparently in a reverie. He was thinking what a good stroke of work he had accomplished that night.
Not only had he got the two prisoners made by the beautiful mistress of the yacht, and was taking them to the vessel, where they could be held in safety until the demanded ransom was paid, but he had actually got into his power the one man feared by Valeria and her crew of desperadoes who had made theIdalinethe most annoying craft known to the police of a dozen countries.
If the yacht had not been so carefully changed in its appearance, by altering her rigging, shortening her smokestack by an ingenious telescoping device that was the invention of its fair owner, and giving a different look to her in several other ways, Nick Carter would have recognized her at once.
As it was, he had thought he knew it, although he could not reconcile the salient points of difference between theIdaline, as he remembered her, and this graceful pleasure steamer riding so calmly at anchor in the bay.
Now that he had found out who the Baroness Latour really was, and had actually been in conversation with her—following this up by running against Kennedy, whom[Pg 37]he also had met before—he did not need to hear the first mate mention the name of theIdalineto be sure of her identity.
It was all clear to Nick now. He was to be taken aboard the yacht, with Harvey L. Drago and Lord Vinton, and they would put out to sea until the friends of the prisoners had consented to pay the enormous sums which would be demanded through carefully veiled newspaper advertisements.
As to what would be done with him, he could not quite satisfy himself. He knew that Mademoiselle Valeria had shown him, in various subtle ways, that she would have been his friend if he had let her, and he did not think she would go to the extreme of killing him.
“I wouldn’t trust her,â€� he thought. “She could easily give orders to some of those rascals on the yacht to shoot me in my sleep, to poison me, or even to suffocate me with some of that charming gas she used on Lord Vinton—and, doubtless, on Mrs. van Dietrich, too. But—I don’t mean to let them do it. That is where I have something to say.â€�
The two men at the oars were laboring hard, for it was not easy to move such a heavy boatload by two pairs of arms, and Kennedy was sorry the boat had not been rigged so that four men could row, one to each oar.
Nick could not see how near they were to the yacht, but he figured that they would reach it in not many minutes.
“Hello! How are you by this time?� whispered a voice in his ear. “Coming around?�
“It was Harvey L. Drago speaking, and Nick turned his head enough to find that Drago was lying almost by his side, his feet extended opposite to those of the detective.
“Keep quiet,� was Carter’s response, in the lowest of murmurs. “You’ve got your gag out, I see.�
“Of course I have,� was the reply. “Those clumsy bunglers couldn’t tie it on so that it would stay. They may know how to knot a rope, but a handkerchief is out of their line. Got a knife?�
“Yes. Keep quiet,� returned the detective.
Nick Carter was pleased with Harvey L. Drago. He liked a man who was not easily discouraged, and it was evident that Drago was as full of fight as if he had never been beaten.
Nick drew his jackknife from his pocket, and severed Drago’s bonds with a series of quick slashes.
In the darkness his movements were not noticed by the sailors.
The prisoners were in the fore part of the boat, for one thing, so that the rowers’ backs were toward them.
Kennedy and the other men were in the stern, and it would not have been easy for them to discern the doings of the prisoners, even in daylight. Now, with the moon gone, and only stars to light up the wide bay and boat, there was hardly any possibility.
“Say! I heard those fellows speak of you as Nick Carter,â€� whispered Drago. “Is that right? Are you the famous——â€�
“My name is Nick Carter,� interrupted the detective. “I am the detective. Are you game for a fight to get out of this?�
“Am I?� returned Drago, so emphatically that Nick[Pg 38]warned him not to speak above a low whisper. “You’ll see.�
“All right! But be careful. If it were not for the splashing of the water and the little noise the oars make, you would have been overheard already. I’ll give you the signal for action.�
“What are we going to do?�
“Wait till the boat gets up to the yacht. Then, before they can make fast, knock as many of them overboard as you can and jump for the ladder. Get that?�
“Sure! I wish there was another one to help.�
“There is,� put in a low voice, behind the detective. “I’m not clear in my mind. But I believe I could do something in a pinch.�
Lord Vinton, slowly recovering from the effects of Valeria’s poisonous gas, and helped back to reason and strength by the invigorating sea air, had heard what Nick Carter and Drago had been saying, and was anxious to take a hand.
The detective welcomed him with quiet enthusiasm.
“If you can lay out only one of the men with a boat stretcher,� he whispered, “you’ll be doing a great deal. Here is the stretcher right here!�
The detective had found a loose piece of wood, some three feet long, lying near him, and he had known it for one of the braces against which oarsmen place their feet to help their pull on the oars.
It would make a most effective weapon, even in the rather weak grasp of the half-poisoned Lord Vinton.
“Think you can fix one of them with this?� asked Carter.
“I’ll give him a rap that he’ll remember,� promised Vinton.
Nick Carter was glad that it took more than a quarter of an hour longer to reach the yacht. Every minute was beneficial to Lord Vinton, as he drew in deep breaths of the life-giving atmosphere.
“Easy all!� called out Kennedy, directing his oarsmen. “Back water! Unship port oars! That’s good! Steady! Wait till I get hold of the ladder rail!�
But the first mate was never allowed to get to the ladder rail of the yacht. Instead, he found himself suddenly confronted by Nick Carter, whom he had supposed still insensible.
He hardly had time to consider how the detective had managed to get back to his wits so quickly, for Nick’s right arm shot out, in a feint for the eye. Kennedy attempted to parry, and Carter immediately crossed with his left. Sending in a sledge-hammer crash to the mate’s chin, the detective dropped his man overboard from the stern with a splash.
Nick did not stop to see what became of the mate. There were other things to do.
The two sailors who had been rowing, each seized an oar for a club and tried to knock down Drago.
He was too quick for them, however. Tearing the oar out of the hands of one of them, a sweeping blow mowed the sailor into the sea, to join Kennedy.
Lord Vinton, although still suffering slightly from the effects of the gas in his bedroom, was able to keep in his mind the one thing he had been instructed to do by the detective, which was to use the boat stretcher.[Pg 39]
So he brought it down on the head of Groton with a force that knocked him senseless. Then he administered a side wipe to the man who had remained in the boat when the others were ashore, and put him out of the fight, although it did not render him unconscious.
“Grab those oars out of the boat, and shove her off!� shouted Nick, as he got on the square wooden grating at the foot of the ladder, and saw that Lord Vinton was already by his side. “Throw them into the sea or bring them along, Drago!�
Harvey L. Drago was a man after Nick Carter’s own heart, for he seemed to fit into a scrap as if it were his regular occupation. In a jiffy, he had the four oars in his arms and piled them up on the ladder, just as he gave the boat a tremendous shove with one foot.
Away went the boat, with the two wounded sailors and the other three who were more or less disabled. The fifth sailor, together with Kennedy, the mate, had disappeared in the dark waters of the bay.
Nick was obliged to make a quick grab for Drago, or that energetic young man would have gone into the sea, too, as he kicked the boat away.
He recovered his balance with the help of the detective, however, and rushed up the ladder at Nick’s heels.
It was fortunate for the three victors that only a small watch was on deck. The taking away of six men from the crew, with the first mate, had weakened the yacht so far as men were concerned.
There were two men on deck, and neither of them was wide awake. They had been sitting talking in the shadows of the smokestack until one of them had fallen fast asleep, while the other nodded.
Until the fight actually began on the boat at the foot of the sea ladder, there had been hardly a sound.
The men were rowing with muffled oars, and there had been no talking except the whispered exchanges between the three prisoners.
When the battle did begin, it was over before the two men on deck realized what was happening.
Nick and Drago, coming up the ladder, met them both at the gangway, and the swiftness and dexterity with which these two seamen found themselves bound and gagged remained a matter of wonder with them for the remainder of their lives.
“Now, gentlemen!� whispered Nick. “The fo’c’s’le! There must be half a dozen men in there. Close the hatch for the present, so that they can’t get out. We’ll deal with them later.�
They fastened up the cubby-hole forward where the men slept, and had trapped seven men before they awoke. In fact, it was an hour afterward before any of them realized that they were prisoners.
When they did, they found the door so well secured that they feared they could only wait until somebody should come to let them out.
All this had been carried out so quietly that the officer of the deck—who was the second mate, Morgan—did not know till he emerged from the chart room that theIdalinewas in possession of an invading party.
Just as he poked his nose out of the chart room—where he had been enjoying a nap on a softly cushioned locker—he was seized by two strong pairs of hands, his mouth stopped with a handful of oakum, and a rope thrown around his arms with the scientific precision that proclaimed it the work of an experienced sailor.[Pg 40]
It was Nick Carter who had knotted the rope, while Lord Vinton, acting under orders, had shoved the oakum into the astonished mate’s mouth.
Drago held him by the arms while the detective bound them.
Nick was a yachtsman himself. There was not a rope or a bit of canvas that he did not know on a full-rigged windjammer.
Having deposited Morgan again on the locker—but not so comfortably as before—and lashed his hands behind him, Nick directed Drago to tie him to the leg of the solid table which was screwed to the floor.
“There he is,� he remarked, when Drago had finished the task. “You’ve done that well. He may perhaps get himself loose in the course of an hour or so, although I don’t think he will. But by that time we shall have things arranged so that we shall not care. Come down to the cabin. There is a man there I want to see.�
They went below, the three of them, and when Captain Latell had been caught in his stateroom and made a prisoner before he realized what was going on, Nick went to another cabin.
Here, pistol in hand, he used the barrel to poke a burly man, who lay on his back in the wide berth, snoring in perfect contentment.
The well-built man started up to a sitting posture. The detective promptly knocked him down again.
“Lie where you are, Mr. Spanner!� commanded Nick.
“What does this mean?� spluttered the indignant occupant of the berth. “Who are you, sir?�
“Nick Carter!� replied the detective coolly.
“What?�
This monosyllabic inquiry came with a shriek of amazement, tinged with indignation and fury.
“Keep quiet, Mr. Spanner!â€� admonished Nick. “We have possession of the yacht, and——â€�
“Where is Captain Latell?� thundered Spanner.
“A prisoner in his stateroom. And we have the second mate, Morgan, tied and gagged, in the chart room.�
“And Kennedy?�
“Drowned.�
“What?�
“He tried to make a prisoner of me and two guests at the Hotel Amsterdam, and he fell overboard, into the sea. He was not seen again. I want you to tell me where Mrs. van Dietrich is on this yacht.�
“I don’t know what you are talking about,� protested Spanner.
“That’s unfortunate. Because, if you don’t produce the lady within ten minutes, we shall take you ashore and have you put in jail for kidnaping.�
“Let me get up and dress,� growled Spanner. “You have no right to come aboard my yacht at all, and I want to see what you are doing here.�
“Oh, it is your yacht, is it?� asked Nick, with a curious smile. “I supposed you were the uncle of the owner, and that her name is Mademoiselle Valeria. She has been staying at the Hotel Amsterdam for some days under the name of the Baroness Latour.�
“I don’t know a Baroness Latour—or a Mademoiselle Valeria, either,â€� snorted Spanner.
“Don’t you? Well, we’ll look for Mrs. van Dietrich ourselves. When we have found her, we shall know something about the ownership of the yacht, I think.�
“Look here, Mr. Carter,� suddenly broke in Lord Vin[Pg 41]ton, who had been standing in the corridor, “Mr. Drago has come to tell me that there is something or other clicking away in the captain’s room, and he’s afraid it is an infernal machine.�
“I don’t think there is anything infernal about it,â€� laughed the detective. “Take this pistol and hold it to the head of this chunky gentleman in pajamas on the bed till I come back. If he becomes too restless—that is, to the point of being threatening—pull the trigger.â€�
“What are you going to do?�
“I’m going to take a look at the infernal machine in the captain’s room.�
“Very well. The door is locked outside, and the captain is gagged and bound on his berth,� remarked Lord Vinton coolly.
It was just what Nick Carter expected when he entered the stateroom of Captain Latell—the “infernal machineâ€� was fixed in the window, with the sash helping to hold it firm.
“The wireless telephone,� he muttered. “I wonder who is talking.�
It was clicking in a subdued way, and the detective, after a careless glance at the captain on the bed, put the receiver on his ears, and settled down to listen.
“Hello!� was the first utterance of the machine that Nick caught. “Is that the yacht?�
“Yes,� replied Nick. “Who is that?�
“Is Colonel Pearson aboard?�
“This is Colonel Pearson talking.�
“Is it? That you, chief?�
“What?� cried Nick delightedly. “Is that you, Chick?�
“Yes.�
“Good! Where are you?�
“In your room at the hotel. This wireless telephone of yours came, and I am using it. Good thing you showed me how it works. Say, chief, are you all right?�
“Yes. Lord Vinton and Mr. Drago are with me. We’ve got the yacht.�
“That’s what I thought. I’ve been staring through a pair of strong night glasses, and from what I could see, it looked to me as if you had won. I saw some people tumble out of a boat, and I was bothered about it till a skiff that the hotel people had sent out came in just now with two half-drowned men. They are the first mate of the yacht and one of the crew, I’m told.�
“Well?�
“The sailor talked when he was questioned, and said you’d taken the yacht. He said some pirates had it, and he was going to see what could be done about it. The other man—the first mate—may not come around at all. So he couldn’t say anything.â€�
“Come aboard as soon as you can, Chick. We’ve got two of the people who were kidnaped, as I told you. But we can’t find Mrs. van Dietrich.�
“She’s on board, the sailor says. There’s a secret stateroom amidships. You get to it by way of the corridor past Mr. Jared Spanner’s room.�
“Very well! We’ll look for her there. But, see here, Chick! You come aboard as quickly as you can, and bring half a dozen men with you. Ask Mr. Savage and Mr. Mallory, the hotel managers, to pick you out reliable fellows, who have nerve. I want to bring this yacht in,[Pg 42]but I must have men to work her, as well as to keep our prisoners safe. You see——â€�
That was as far as the detective got with his conversation. A tremendous uproar broke out at the head of the companionway, and the next moment seven husky sailors came rushing down and hurled themselves upon him.
One big fellow pointed a revolver at his head and ordered him to surrender.
The sailor made a strategical mistake here. He threatened the detective with the pistol before making sure that his man would stand where he was to be fired at.
Nick Carter ducked almost before the demand for his surrender was out of the other man’s mouth.
When he came up again—which he did like lightning—the top of his head struck the sailor’s chin and knocked him backward, stunned and gasping.
At the same instant the detective wrenched the revolver from his hand and faced another man who was standing in the doorway.
This second man had no gun. His weapon was an iron belaying pin, and if he could have swung it, he might have done serious damage.
As it was, he retreated in disorder as he saw the steady eye of Carter running along the blue steel barrel of the big forty-four, and, as a natural consequence, he upset all those behind him.
“Vinton! Drago!� shouted Nick.
There was a quick response to his call. The two came running along the corridor, and Vinton fired off his automatic pistol on general principles.
He did not hit anybody, but the report was tremendous in those confined quarters. It scared every sailor among them.
Nick Carter could not help laughing heartily as he and his companions herded the men along the deck and into the forecastle again.
Taking care the door was thoroughly secured this time, Nick stationed Lord Vinton, with the pistol, outside, giving him orders to shoot down the first man who should appear.
This injunction was given loudly enough to reach the ears of the men inside, and Nick was satisfied there would be no attempt to break out again—at least, not unless the yacht was recaptured by its original owners.
It was just as this arrangement was effected that a tubbylike figure, in red-and-blue pajamas, came pattering along the deck, holding a revolver in its hand.
“Hands up!� yelled Nick Carter, presenting his jackknife at the face of the pajama man, who, of course, was Jared Spanner.
Mr. Spanner had never been remarkable for physical courage, and he let his revolver fall with a crash on the deck. He could not see what the jackknife was in the gloom, but he took it for granted that it was a heavy firearm of some kind.
“Back to bed!� commanded Nick sternly.
“I heard a noise outside and I left him alone for a minute,� explained Lord Vinton penitently.
Spanner padded back in his bare feet. When he was in the stateroom once more, the detective took the precaution of tying his hands behind him and fastening him in his berth with a rope that was twisted around the iron framework below.[Pg 43]
There was one more important thing to do, and that was to find Mrs. van Dietrich.
With the information he had as to the whereabouts of her cabin, it was not difficult for Nick Carter to discover it. Then he solved the problem of entering, and, after a knock, for propriety’s sake, he went in.
Mrs. van Dietrich was of a philosophical turn of mind. That was proved by the fact that she was in a comfortable bed, with her clothes still on, but with a blanket pulled up under her arms, and sleeping as calmly as if she had been in her own room at the hotel.
Nick Carter assured himself that she was really in a natural sleep, and then quietly withdrew, to wait till Chick and reënforcements should arrive.
It was an hour later, and the sun was just showing itself over the rim of the eastern horizon, when Chick, with eight men—guests, porters, and the two proprietors of the hotel—rowed up to the sea ladder of theIdaline.
It was embarrassing to Nick Carter to receive so many and such profuse thanks for recovering the three guests who had disappeared from the hotel, and he begged both Mallory and Savage to let it pass.
Nick Carter arranged to leave a guard on the yacht, when Mrs. van Dietrich was to be escorted to shore by the detective, Lord Vinton, and Harvey L. Drago, with Chick, in state.
It was only after considerable delay that this was done, however, for Mrs. van Dietrich was a leader of fashion, and she could not appear in public until her own maid, Mary Cook, had been brought from the hotel, with a complete change of raiment and various toilet necessaries.
All this took so much time, that it was well into the forenoon when the dear lady at last appeared in the lobby of the Hotel Amsterdam, to receive the congratulations by all the other guests on her wonderful rescue by “this dear Colonel Pearson.�
The stolen jewelry had all been recovered.
At last Nick Carter got away from the lobby and into the elevator, telling the man to take him to the fourth floor. Once there, he hurried to the rooms occupied by the Baroness Latour.
He was surprised to see all the doors of the suite wide open, and one of the hotel housemaids busy with broom, dust pan, and other paraphernalia of her business.
“Where is the baroness?� demanded Carter hastily.
“She went early this morning, sir,� was the reply.
“Where has she gone?�
“I don’t know. Perhaps they can tell you at the office,� answered the girl.
But they could not tell him at the office. All they knew was that the baroness had paid her bill and gone away, with her maid and her trunks, to the railroad station, and that she had taken the nine-thirty-seven west.
“H’m!â€� muttered Nick Carter. “So she has got away from me. Well, it would have been difficult to convict her, even if I had wanted to do it. Her man Kennedy is dead, and I have Jared Spanner a prisoner on what he says is his own yacht. After all, I have cleared up the mystery of the kidnaping of important guests for ransom, and even if I can’t clap Spanner in jail—a point I haven’t settled in my own mind—I think I have pulled his claws.â€�
He walked up and down the lobby several times in deep thought.
“After all,� he broke out, at last, half aloud, “I do[Pg 44]n’t know that my dear baroness has got away from me altogether yet. I still have her yacht, and she is sure to want to come on board sooner or later. I believe I’ll go up to my room and get a few hours’ sleep.�
THE END.
“The Private Yacht; or, Nick Carter’s Trail of Diamonds,� is the title of the story that you will find in the next issue of this weekly, No. 125, out January 30th. In this story you will read more of the efforts of Nick Carter and his assistants to thwart the designs of this wonderfully clever girl criminal.
(This interesting story was commenced in No. 120 ofNick Carter Stories. Back numbers can always be obtained from your news dealer or the publishers.)
“I do like a man like that!� bubbled old Steve delightedly, as he dropped a box of tools at my feet.
I found no words in reply, so we two went right at the repairing, and the job was really simple enough.
The engine, a four-cylinder affair of the “heavy-duty� type, was bedded between the two masts. This arrangement, of course, necessitated a piercing of the foot of the mainmast for the shaft as it ran aft to the screw.
Now, what had happened was simply that, in the strain before the actual break at the deck, the bronze shaft had been thrown out of line. So it bound against the bearing through the mast.
It was but a quarter hour’s work to saw above and below the bend. I couldn’t get the shaft to exact trueness, of course; but the line from engine coupling to shaft log ran fair enough, so that, before a half hour was up, I sent old Steve to deck.
Then followed the jangle of the bell right alongside me, and I started the engine.
There came immediately a gurgle along the planking. TheRuby Lightwas once more under way.
I was soon joined in the engine room again by old Steve.
“How’s she runnin’?� he inquired, as he bit off a chew of plug, mumbling over the process of getting the exact break.
“Sweet enough,â€� I replied, “though she ought not to be driven any too long with even that bit of a crook.â€� I indicated the bend in the shaft. “A long spell would wear the stern bearing out of——â€�
“Which the same’s just wot I was a-tellin’ the old man just now. Kind o’ struck him like, too, I reckon; fer I hearn him shift the course sommat ter the Stevens lad.�
“Shift the course?� I queried, masking my interest as much as possible, but not enough to keep the old fellow from hedging on his tongue. He shifted the topic abruptly.
“And now, laddie, I guess as how there ain’t no more occasion ter keep you from deck, though the same which you done down here was mighty good,� he said meaningly.[Pg 45]
I acknowledged the appreciation with a shrug, gave him a cordial “So long,� and sought the deck.
Fog is even more whimsical than woman. And the quick survey I gave to the weather, as I stood a minute by the engine-room hatch, showed that this one had about made up its mind to lift again. At any rate, it was distinctly thinner.
I started aft along the cluttered deck toward Stevens, who was again at the wheel, but before I reached his side, Stroth had joined him from the main companionway.
The owner gave a critical scan to starboard, then spoke a word to Stevens, with a nod at the binnacle, and slowly the spokes went over to port. This, just as I was about to join them.
“I hope your hand is all right, sir,� said I, in genuine solicitude.
“Right as a trivet,â€� he replied, holding it forward for inspection. “Isn’t all that gauze and stuff just shipshape and Bristol-fashion, though? I tell you, Stella’s a trump when it comes to the nursing game. You see, those convent sisters she’s been with these three years are——â€�
He stopped himself, and inquired sharply:
“How’re things with the motor?�
“Well enough, if you don’t run it too long that way.�
“So old Steve tells me. Well, how long do you think——â€�
I anticipated his thought. “She could run without much trouble for twelve hours or thereabout,� was my verdict.
His brow cleared perceptibly as he cried:
“Good enough—and long enough!â€� He nodded to Stevens, as though in confirmation of some point, before he added to me:
“Our little pleasure voyage to Savannah is getting a dash of adventure in it, isn’t it, Grey?� He indicated the wreckage-strewn decks before us. “But it’s fine!�
It certainly was a novel viewpoint from which to estimate a damage of at least a thousand odd dollars. An absolutely unnecessary damage, at that—and to a yacht as smart and trim as they make ’em.
I couldn’t find it in me to agree with his enthusiasm, so I changed the subject.
“She runs very well under power,� I said.
“Doesn’t she?� came his hearty response. “A good, honest, mile-eating pace, which is not at all bad for an auxiliary. I think we ought to make Fire Island by some time after nightfall or thereabout, don’t you?�
“Fire Island!� I exclaimed. He had betrayed me into an expression of the genuine surprise I experienced, and he laughed easily as he went on:
“Exactly. I could scarcely continue in this fashion to Savannah, could I? And so, since you’re bound to know it sooner or later, I see no reason to avoid explaining a bit.�
“Now naturally,� and he smiled again, “I’ve got to find some cove to lie in while I refit. Of course, those masts are going to be pretty short and stumpy when I restep them; but with reefs tied in, and engine going, too, I guess we can be on our way again well within a week, eh?�
“But why not shift over to Greenport, and put two new sticks in her at the shipyard there?� I volunteered thoughtlessly.
His grin became broader than ever.
“I believe a little spot behind a couple of those low-lying islands in Great South Bay would suit me better; that is, under the circumstances.[Pg 46]�
“Oh, I forgot!� I cried, laughing, too.
Here we both wheeled to a shout from Stevens. With one hand he still clung to the wheel, but the other pointed off over the waters.
Seamen are familiar with those inexplicable “pockets� in a fog, and this one was as clear a “lift� as I’ve ever witnessed. Furthermore, it came in an exact line with a decided object; an object on shore; though one would never have guessed we were so near the “hard.�
Over there, as though viewed through a gray tunnel, but clear as daylight itself, showed a bluff, surmounted by a lighthouse.
“Montauk!� I cried.
But before the fog banks once more swept the rift out of existence, my exclamation was answered vehemently. Stroth’s imprecation came low, but it carried venom enough to make up for much volume.
Then we continued monotonously on our westward course through the mist.
That night, about nine o’clock, the atmosphere cleared to the rising of the full moon, and it proved Stroth’s rough estimate of the distance we could travel to be remarkably accurate.
The lead had been constantly kept going, and when we were able at last to catch the rays of Fire Island light, it bore about three points off the starboard bow, and some four miles distant.
What little wind that had been stirring throughout the remainder of daylight, after the short squall, fell flat at sundown; and when the thick weather had so lightened that the stars, as well as the moon, could be distinguished, we found ourselves riding over an unrippled ground swell.
It was phantomlike and eerie out there on that heaving oil, not a spar or sail striking its outline against the heavens, but a steady purr of waters as they slid under the schooner’s spoon bow.
I had never known an engine of the explosive type to work more quietly. Whoever fitted that muffler knew his business.
Moreover, there was a certain enjoyment in this very weirdness, an enjoyment which was enhanced for me by the fact that, since the gloaming, Stella Stroth had joined us on deck.
Indeed, at the moment when the light was first descried, she was leaning lightly over the rail at the quarter, gazing down into the mystery of the black waters slipping by.
“Two pennies for your thought,� said I, rather lamely.
“Why, odd enough,� she replied slowly. “I was just thinking what an odd thing the whole business is!�
“What whole business?� I said lightly.
“Oh, living,� she answered quietly.
“A fine kind of remark for eighteen,� I bantered. “Especially with a moon like that overhead.�
“I’m not eighteen, I’m twenty!� she cried, and then we both laughed as we turned to a step that sounded on deck alongside us.
It was Stroth. But he continued his way forward, paying no attention to us. We kept watching him, though, for purpose rang in his step.[Pg 47]
To a gesture, one of the sailors cast loose the foghorn which had been lashed to the bitts during our run in the fog. The fellow disappeared with it down the forecastle hatch; then reappeared next instant, and extinguished the side lights, which, to avoid collision from coasting schooners, had been rigged to jury fixtures at the rails.
Disappearing once more to the hold, he doused the forecastle light also, and a turn of inquiry I made aft showed that the main cabin was likewise dark.
Not a glimmer anywhere showed from this low, black, smooth-running cripple as she veered northward and pointed for the inlet.
Even the clouds favored that short passage, for a husky, gray-cotton one billowed across the moon just as we neared the strait.
At that minute I felt Stroth beside me.
“Know the channel in here, sir?� said I.
“Well, rather,â€� he replied. “Besides, theRuby Lightdraws little more than three feet—built for Florida waters, you know.â€�
Then he strode from us, and took the wheel from Stevens. It was easy enough to see who was the real captain.
Next moment we slid into the slip of the inlet, and entered the quieter waters beyond.
Once in the bay, it took us all of two hours to creep to the spot selected, for Stroth checked the engine so that she was barely turning over. But, be it remarked, we didn’t rub the mud once, which tells its own story of Stroth’s ability, and knowledge of the channel.
Finally he tucked the schooner into as pretty a bight for concealment as I could have imagined along that low-lying, marshy coast. Indeed, I didn’t believe there was such a spot in the entire region, for my own slight experience in the locality had come from a snipe-shooting trip I had once made with a gunning companion.
Even thus at night I could gather its advantages; but when, after some five hours’ sound sleep, I stepped out on deck to greet the rising sun, the impression was intensified.
It looked exactly as though that island had been chiseled out to fit that very boat; and, better to conceal it, had humped itself up into two lateral hummocks surmounted by the inevitable salt grass. In fact, bereft of spars as she lay now, not a trace could a man a furlong off catch of the craft except dead ahead, and even there the channel crooked to an abrupt turn.
“It’s pretty near ideal, isn’t it?� said Stroth, coming up behind me. Not a trace of the fire of yesterday showed on the features of the owner. He was geniality itself.
“I didn’t know there was such a place within a hundred miles of here,� said I.
“Oh, then you know Great South Bay?�
“Scarcely at all,â€� I replied. “I simply know that the bay is probably about five miles wide at this point. Over thereâ€�—and I swept my gesture toward the low line of beach some half mile beyond the island and to southward—“lies the Atlantic, and over this way——â€�
“The south shore of Long Island; right.�
“We’re about opposite——â€� I put it as a question.
“Very nearly opposite Babylon,� said he slowly, and I felt more in his tones than the mere words.[Pg 48]
At any rate, I was silent some seconds before he broke into my reverie with:
“You’re up against a problem, aren’t you?�
He was right; something was distinctly bothering me that morning. I didn’t hurry to say so, however.
“Shall I word it for you?� he queried, with a short laugh. “Well, you’re wondering, for one thing, just what would be the easiest way to get to that mainland, eh?�
He had hit the nail on the head first crack, for there was a decided difference between being practically a prisoner on a schooner out of sight of land at sea, and being foot-free on that schooner when she was tied, bow and stern, in smooth water, a half mile from Uncle Sam’s well-patrolled beach. There would be a life-saving station within a five-mile trudge, I knew.
But Stroth didn’t guess the real crux of the trouble. Duty to the force he could understand; but of my feelings for his daughter he had no inkling.
Right there, though, lay my greatest difficulty, and I hate indecision worse than anything I know of. But he solved the thing for me in short order, and in his characteristic fashion.
“I’ve got a choice for you again,� he said abruptly. “Naturally, the thing I most object to is having my whereabouts known. You can understand that.�
I nodded.
“At least, until I can refit,� he went on. “Now, I’m not the man to use force when I can employ a milder treatment; and, besides, you’ve proved yourself a very adaptable person, and, as such, I’ll admit I admire you.�
I eyed him closely, scenting sarcasm, but his face held none.
“Furthermore,� he concluded, “you’re a man of your word; that I know.�
“All of which——â€� I began.
“All of which leads up, as I have intimated, to the choice, which is very much like the one I offered you before. Simply stated, you are, here and now, to give me your word to remain in my party until we reach Savannah.�
“The alternative?� I demanded.
“Is sufficiently severe in justifying your course to superiors.� He crossed his wrists, suggesting handcuffs, and I knew he meant what he said, for the very metal rang in his voice.
At heart I was positively glad that the one course lay open, and it was a course any sane man would have to take.
“Why, that’s no choice, Mr. Stroth!� I exclaimed, laughing; “it’s an invitation, which I gladly accept. You have my word; I’m yours to Savannah.�
He joined my laugh, and we shook hands on it.
“I’m going to give you absolute freedom, Grey,â€� said he, “even to ‘shore leave.’ Fact is, after breakfast, you can do as you like, and we’ll——â€�
“Bleakfas’, sir!� announced the Jap, Saki, at his elbow, and the sentence wasn’t finished as we strode, hunger-whetted, to the dining saloon.
Both Stella Stroth and Stevens were already at table, and the girl seemed to be in the highest sort of spirits.
From the very second of my arrival she kept me jump[Pg 49]ing from subject to subject in a sparkling joy of life. Little showed of that pensive mood of last night’s moonlight.
Stroth and Stevens soon became engrossed in plans for the refitting of the schooner, no small task under the circumstances; but little of the more serious talk got to me, for the girl kept me busy.
Presently she burst out with:
“Oh, daddy, have you still got my canoe aboard?�
Not a trace of annoyance at her interruption showed in the father’s manner as he replied:
“I just reckon we have, honey. It’s below deck, of course; somewhere beknownst to old Steve; he stowed it away carefully. Why, do you want it?�
She turned to me happily. “Wouldn’t it be just great to paddle over to the beach yonder?� she cried. “Why, we might even catch some fish, Mr. Grey.�
I glanced at Stroth, who smiled back meaningly.
“I’m afraid we’d be sort of deserters, and——â€� I began.
“Oh, shucks! Daddy, we couldn’t help fix the schooner, anyway, could we? We’d just be in the way, wouldn’t we?�
Stroth replied easily:
“Well, honey, I don’t want Grey, here, to take it as a slight, but I really don’t think he could be of much service, for we’ve plenty of men. And so that is not at all a bad suggestion.�
“Ah, you hear that, Mr. Grey?� she cried delightedly, tossing down her napkin. “Come on, let’s get old Steve!�
As she quitted the doorway, and before she turned to see if I were following, I questioned her father with a look, and got another nod of approval. He certainly was putting my liberty on my honor.
Old Steve chuckled joyously at her request, and it wasn’t ten minutes before a light and graceful canvas canoe was bobbing alongside the starboard landing stairs. And the old bo’s’n added this suggestion to the fishing part of the picnic:
“I don’t guess as how you’ll find overmuch fish atween here and the beach, missy; but onless this region is dead changed, the shallows is full of crabs; so I just brought this here net along in case——â€�
“Oh, dandy! I just dote on scoopin’ ’em in!� she exclaimed enthusiastically. “And we’ll take along a kettle. Why, it’ll just be scrumptious! And you can tell Saki that he needn’t expect us to dinner.�
Whereupon she took her place in the bow of the frail craft, and caught up her paddle, and not ten strokes were needed to prove that she was no novice at the trick.
We reached the main beach within a half hour, then coasted along its shallows, scooping up the crustaceans. We made a goodly haul in short order, and by noon she had had enough of the sport.
“Let’s land on the beach, leave the canoe pulled up, and take our kettle over to the ocean side of the bar,� she proposed. “We can make a bully good fire of driftwood. My, but this is all primitive and bully, isn’t it?�
And it was all I could do to keep from telling her just how bully it was to me, and how I’d like to keep on this way forever.
But before we got that fire started, we met a difficulty. I hadn’t a match—not a single one.[Pg 50]
This was an insuperable difficulty, that cleared quicker and easier than usual, for a blue-uniformed government coast guard came trudging his solitary beat along the hardened sands where the tide had run out.
He seemed not a whit surprised at seeing such a couple as we were. I suppose he credited “summer folks� with any kind of asininity, even to paddling a canoe clear over from Babylon.
“A match?� he echoed genially. “Why, shore! Here you are,� and he produced one from behind his ear, where he carried a half dozen.
As he handed it over, I detected a lingering eye on our catch.
“You certainly got quite a mess, didn’t you?� he commented.
“Yes; don’t you want some of ’em?� I asked.
“Why, I don’t care if I do,� he answered. “The boys up to the station ain’t got much time to catch ’em themselves. Ef you don’t mind, I’ll jest take along a half dozen.�
So saying, he drew a newspaper from his pocket, tore a sheet from it, and, to our hearty urging, wrapped up a full dozen.
Then he wished us a good appetite for our crude meal, and once more strode away at his steady, distance-covering gait.
It was with the intention of starting the fire at once that I caught up the sheet of newspaper he had left behind him; but, after one glance, I didn’t burn it.
The item that met my eye was not a large one; the bit of news was not featured; but it held me. This is what I saw: