For the first time in a good many months, Tom was willing to acknowledge that he was a happy boy. The life he led in Sam Barton's harboring-place exactly suited him. He had plenty to eat, no work to do, and nothing to trouble him. By virtue of his rank, he was exempt from all camp duty; and the only labor he had to perform during the day-time was to dispose of his meals when Friday said they were ready. When he felt so inclined, he took part in the conversation, and discussed with the others the best methods of carrying out the plans they had determined upon; but he believed the position he held warranted the display of a little dignity on his part, and he generally kept aloof from all his companions, except the governor, and spent the most of his time in dozing and building air-castles. If the Storm King had been destroyed, he would have been willing to pass the remainder of his days in the cove. That would save him the trouble and inconvenience of a long voyage at sea, which, reckless as he was, he was in no hurry to undertake. What if the Sweepstakes should be caught out in a storm, like the one they had experienced the night they made the attack on the yacht? The captain did not like to think about this; but the question would now and then force itself upon him, and he finally determined that, if he found himself likely to get into trouble, he would shirk the responsibility by turning the command of the vessel over to his mate.
On the evening of the fourteenth day after the Crusoe men had taken up their abode in the cove, Tom lay upon the grass, gazing into the water, and lazily fanning himself with his hat. The band had been employed, during the day, in enlarging the cabin, and Tom had condescended to lend a very little assistance, and was now resting after his labors. A fire was burning brightly under the bluff, and, before it, supported upon sticks driven into the ground, were half a dozen fine fish, which, under the influence of the heat, were emitting an odor that would have tempted an epicure. A coffee-pot simmered and sputtered on a bed of coals that had been raked out on one side of the fire, and on the other stood Friday, the cook, watching some potatoes that were roasting in the ashes. A short distance from the fire was the table, laid for supper. It was a little knoll, thickly covered with grass, which answered the purpose of a tablecloth. The most prominent object upon it was a huge piece of beech bark, which did duty as a bread-plate—only it was filled with crackers, instead of bread; and, judging by the quantity it contained, Friday must have thought his companions would be very hungry after their day's work. Around it were arranged the dishes with which each member of the band had been required to provide himself—a tin plate and cup, and also a spoon, knife, and fork. Two more pieces of bark lay near the fire, waiting to receive the fish and potatoes.
The outfit provided by the band for their former expedition, and which fell into the hands of the students when they recaptured their vessel, had been restored to the owners by the principal, and they had brought it to the island with them. Will Atkins was now engaged in stowing it away in the cabin, Xury was arranging the beds, and Jack Spaniard was fixing up some brackets to receive the guns.
The governor was off reconnoitering. He had issued orders prohibiting his men from going outside the cove in the day-time, but he himself ascended to the upper world at least once in every two or three hours, to see what was going on, and to satisfy himself that the farmer on whose land the cove was situated had seen nothing to arouse his suspicions.
"Now, then," said Friday, "supper's ready. Will Atkins, go after the governor."
"Who made you an officer?" replied Atkins. "Go yourself."
"Now, look here," exclaimed Tom, raising himself on his elbow, and looking indignantly at the cook, "by whose authority do you issue commands here? There are a captain and mate in this society now, and all orders must pass through them."
"I forgot," said Friday. "Cap'n, will you tell somebody to call the governor?"
"Mr. Mate," drawled Tom, "be kind enough to send a man after the governor."
"Will Atkins," said Xury, "go up an' tell the governor that if he wants any grub he'd best be gettin' down here."
The order came from the proper authority this time, and through the proper channels, and Atkins could not refuse to obey.
This style of passing orders had been introduced by Tom, and was what he called the "man of war routine." He insisted that it was no more than right that all the officers should have something to do with whatever was going on; and, after a few objections from Sam, who did not like to surrender any of his authority, he had carried his point. The governor was sharp enough to see, after a little reflection, that this rule, if strictly carried out, would establish him more firmly in his position than ever before. By allowing his officers to show their authority on all occasions, they would be kept good natured; and if any trouble arose in the band, he could depend upon their assistance and support. There were two among the Crusoe men, however, who were not at all pleased with this state of affairs, and they were Will Atkins and Jack Spaniard. By carrying out Tom's system they were made hewers of wood and drawers of water to their companions; and Will Atkins, who was a turbulent fellow, declared that he wouldn't stand it—that there would be a big fuss in the society some day, if the officers persisted in making a servant of him. He always obeyed orders, because he was afraid to refuse; but he growled about it like any old sailor.
"I think this is a purty how-de-do," said he, sullenly, as he started off to obey the mate's command. "It's 'Will Atkins, do this!' 'Will Atkins, do that!' That lazy governor, an' Muley, an' Xury can set around an' do nothin'; but Atkins can't have a minute's peace."
"Go on, and obey the order," said Tom, sternly. "If I hear another word out of you, I'll report you to the governor."
This thread silenced the dissatisfied member of the Crusoe band. He knew, by experience, that the chief had a very unpleasant way of dealing with rebellious spirits, and fear of bodily harm kept him quiet.
By the time Friday had dished up his supper, Atkins returned with the governor, who threw himself upon the grass at the head of the table, while his officers seated themselves on each side of him. He passed his cup to the cook to be filled with coffee, and, as he did so, he ran his eye over the table, and smiled with great satisfaction.
"This is a heap better grub than I had while I lived here alone," said he. "Friday, you know I am heavy on taters; why didn't you cook more of 'em?"
"Them's the last," was the answer.
"Then we must lay in a new supply," said Sam. "We'll go up after dark, an' hook a bushel or so. I've been watchin' them fellers up there, fur the last half hour; an' I notice they have left a good many piles of taters in the field. It'll be the easiest thing in the world fur us to get as many as we want."
The matter was settled without any further remarks. The governor's orders had thus far been received and obeyed without comment; and so small and uninteresting an enterprise as robbing a potato-patch was not worth talking about. The Crusoe men had done such things so often that they thought no more of them than they did of going fishing.
But this expedition was destined to be rather more exciting than any of a similar kind in which they had ever engaged; and if they had only known what was to happen before morning, and could have looked far enough into the future to see the long string of events that was to result from the governor's order, it is probable that they would one and all have refused duty.
Supper over, the Crusoe men lounged on the grass, in front of the cabin, and talked of what they had done, and what they intended to do—all except Friday, who busied himself in clearing the table, and washing the dishes. At sunset it was quite dark in the cove; but the governor knew there was still plenty of light on the cliffs above, and he waited nearly two hours more before he gave the signal for action.
"I reckon we can be movin' now," said he, at length. "I don't s'pose there is any danger, but, of course, it will be well for us to keep our eyes an' ears open. If them fellers up there havn't found out by this time that there's something goin' on, it aint no fault of our'n; fur we've made mighty free with their fruit an' vegetables durin' the last few nights. Cap'n, see that each man is provided with a sack to put the taters in."
Tom repeated the order to his mate, who went into the cabin, and presently returned with an armful of bags, which he distributed among the band. The chief then lighted his lantern, and, every thing being ready for the start, led the way toward the cliff, the ascent of which was regarded by the members of the band as the worst part of the undertaking. The fissure along which the path ran, was as dark as midnight; and the faint light which the governor's lantern threw out, afforded them but little assistance in finding their way.
They had made the ascent so often, however, that they had become quite familiar with the path, and there was no danger of losing their way, or of falling over the rocks. They crossed the chasm by the rope bridge in safety, and finally reached the summit, where the governor extinguished his light, and stopped to reconnoiter. Every thing was still, and Sam was satisfied that the coast was clear, although he thought it best to give his men a few final instructions.
"There don't seem to be nothin' wrong," said he, "but, bein' an old fox, I know it aint always best to put too much faith in appearances. We won't go straight to the field, 'cause there may be somebody on the watch, you know; an' if they see where we come from, they'll discover our hidin'-place, an' then we can bid good-by to all hopes of ever seein' our island. If they get after us, we'll scatter out an' hide from 'em—we can easy do that in the dark—an' when they're gone, we'll meet here. But remember, fellers, we aint comin' back without them taters."
Sam, who had by this time become well acquainted with the country about his hiding-place, once more placed himself at the head of his men, and led them down the shore for a quarter of a mile; and after passing through two or three fields, came up on the other side of the potato-patch. If the farmer was on the watch, this maneuver would lead him to believe that Sam and his band had come from the village.
The governor had no difficulty in finding the place where the farmer had left his potatoes, and after he had ordered two of the band to act as sentries, he set to work with the others to fill the bags.
For a wonder Tom labored as hard as the rest, and without once noticing how sadly he was soiling his hands and clothes. He was rendered extremely uneasy by the precautions the governor had taken to avoid capture, and he was anxious to get the work done as soon as possible. When his bag was filled, he tied it with a string he had brought with him for the purpose, and was making some desperate efforts to raise it to his shoulder, when an exclamation from one of the sentinels caused him to drop his burden as if it had been a coal of fire.
"See there, fellers!" whispered Xury.
"Look out, men!" chimed in Will Atkins. "I hear something."
Tom looked, but could see nothing. He knew there was danger near, however, and without waiting to see what quarter it was coming from, he jumped over his bag of potatoes, and drew a bee-line for the beach at a rate of speed that astonished himself. He had not made more than half a dozen steps, when an appalling yell rang out on the air, followed by the roar of a gun which sounded so loud that Tom, in his terror, thought it must have been fired close to his ear.
"Halt there, you villain!" shouted a voice close behind the flying captain of the Crusoe band.
Tom heard the order, and knew it was addressed to him, but he did not heed it. He ran faster than ever, the sound of rapidly pursuing footsteps lending him wings. But all his efforts were in vain. The footsteps grew louder, and presently Tom felt a strong hand grasp his collar. A moment afterward he found himself lying flat on his back, with a heavy weight on his breast holding him down.
Tom Newcombe had his first fight that night. He resisted the active young farmer who had seized him, to the best of his ability, although, for all the good it did him, he might as well have surrendered himself a prisoner at once. But the captain of the Crusoe band had a great many reasons for not wishing to be taken prisoner. In the first place, he was pretty well known in that country, and he was afraid that the farmer might recognize in him the son of the richest man in Newport; and, even if he did not, he would know that Tom had come from the village, and he would, of course, take him back there in the morning. Then what would become of him? What would his father do? and what would Johnny Harding, and the rest of the fellows, have to say about it? Above all, what would become of the expedition, and the plan he had laid for destroying the Storm King? His capture would put an end to all the bright dreams in which he had indulged during the past two weeks, and he would once more find himself an errand-boy in his father's office, deprived of every privilege, watched more closely than ever, and teased and tormented by his thoughtless acquaintances, who would never allow him a moment's peace. Tom thought of all these things, and he was surprised at himself when he found that he was fighting for his liberty with a courage and determination he had never supposed himself to possess. He kicked and
thrashed about at an astonishing rate, and finding that his efforts were wholly in vain, he tried to frighten his captor by threatening him with a terrible vengeance if he did not immediately release him.
"What do you mean?" roared Tom, striving desperately to unclasp the strong fingers that were holding fast to his collar. "Let me up, or I'll give you cause to remember this night's work as long as you live. Let me up, I say."
"Well, I swan!" exclaimed the farmer, peering down into Tom's face, "I thought you made a poor fight for a man." Then hearing footsteps behind him, he looked up, and called out to some one who was approaching—"I say, Josh, they're only little brats of boys; they aint men at all. I wish I had a good apple-tree switch."
"O, now, you wouldn't use it on me if you had one," drawled Tom.
"Wouldn't! I'd like to know what's the reason?"
"Because you wouldn't dare do it. I always get even with any one who imposes on me, so you had better mind what you are about."
"I don't want any insolence now, for I aint in just the mood to stand it. If you and your crowd are the same fellows who have been prowling around here for the last week, you have stolen more than twenty dollars worth of garden truck. Get up here, you young robber!"
The farmer jerked his prisoner roughly to his feet, and by this time Josh came up. The arrival of re-enforcements, and the ease with which he was handled, convinced Tom that further resistance was useless, and he began to beg lustily.
"O, now, if you will let me go I'll never do it again," he pleaded.
"O yes, we'll let you go," was the encouraging reply. "We'll lock you up till morning, and then take you over to the 'squire; that's what we'll do with you. Catch hold of him, Josh."
His captor held fast to one arm, Josh took hold of the other, and Tom was marched off between them. Of course he pulled back, and tried hard to escape; but the stalwart young farmers walked him along without the least difficulty. When they reached the house, they pulled him up the steps that led to the porch, and opening a door, ushered him into the kitchen, where Tom found himself in the presence of the female portion of the farmer's family.
"Here's one of the rogues, mother," exclaimed Josh. "Sit down, and let's have a good look at you."
If Tom at that moment could have purchased his freedom by promising that he would give up his new idea, and leave the students in quiet possession of the Storm King, he would have done it, gladly. He sank into the chair Josh pointed out to him, and sat with his chin resting on his breast, and his eyes fastened on the floor, not daring to look up long enough to ascertain whether or not there was any one in the room with whom he was acquainted. He knew that half a dozen pairs of eyes were looking at him with curiosity; and he felt that if he had never before been utterly disgraced, he was now. No one spoke to him, and in a few minutes the silence became so oppressive that Tom would have welcomed a thunderstorm, or an earthquake. He twisted about in his chair, whirled his cap in his hand, and gazed steadily at a crack in the floor, until he was relieved by the noise of feet on the porch, which was followed by the entrance of the farmer, with the rest of the party who had been guarding the potato-patch. Then, for the first time, he mustered up courage enough to look around him. He noted two things—one was, that every person in the room was a stranger to him; and the other, that he had a companion in his misery, in the shape of his mate, who, unlike his superior officer, did not seem to be at all abashed at finding himself the center of so many eyes. He held his head up, and looked about him as if he felt quite at his ease.
"Well, we've got two of them," said the farmer, in a tone of great satisfaction, "and I guess we've frightened the others so badly that they'll let us alone in future. But how is this?" he added, glancing first at the rich man's son, and than at the ragged, bare-footed ferry-boy. "There must have been two parties of them."
"No, there wasn't," said Xury. "We all belong to one crowd."
"What's your name?" continued the farmer, addressing himself to the captain of the Crusoe band.
"O, now, I'm Tom—"
"Avast, there!" cried Xury, so suddenly that he startled every one in the room. "His name is Muley, mister—that's his name."
"Muley? Muley what?"
"Muley nothin'—just Muley. That's all the name he's got. My name is Xury, an' that's all the name I've got."
Tom was astonished at the impudence of his mate. He had been on the point of revealing every thing, for, now that he was a prisoner, he could not see the use of further concealment. According to his way of thinking, the expedition had been nipped in the bud, his splendid idea could not be carried out, and if the farmer had questioned him closely, he would have told him all about the Crusoe men and their hiding-place. It made no difference to Tom that he had promised to keep these things secret. He was in trouble, and all he cared for was to get out of it. Xury, however, was a very different sort of boy. He had promised never to reveal any of the secrets intrusted to his keeping, he had sealed the compact by shaking hands with his chief, and he would have endured almost any punishment before proving himself unworthy of the confidence of his fellows. Besides, he did not believe that the affairs of the band were so very desperate. He knew that the governor would never desert him, and as long as he and Tom remained on the island, there were some hopes that those of the band who had escaped would find means to effect their release.
"Of course I know that those are not your right names," said the farmer, at length, "but I am not particular about that, for when I take you to the village to-morrow, I can find out all about you. What did you intend to do with those potatoes?"
"Eat 'em," answered Xury. "What else does a feller do with taters?"
"Have you eaten all the fruit and vegetables you have stolen during the last week?"
"Sartin."
"Well, I'll put you where you won't steal any more to-night. Josh, you and Bill take them down cellar and leave them there with the rats."
"That don't scare me none," said Xury. "I never saw no rats yet I was afraid of. What will you do with us in the mornin', mister?"
"I intend to break up these midnight plundering expeditions, by making an example of you. I shall take you before 'Squire Thompson."
"What do you reckon he'll do with us?"
"He will put you in the House of Refuge for three or four years, most likely, and I think that would be a good place for you. Take them away, boys."
Josh lighted a candle and led the way into the cellar, followed by Tom and his mate, Bill bringing up the rear. While the young farmers were examining the windows and door, to make sure that their prisoners could not escape, Tom took a hurried survey of his quarters, which he found to be cheerless in the extreme. Three sides of the cellar were supplied with windows—narrow apertures, placed about as high as his head from the floor, and protected by stout iron bars which were set into the walls. On the fourth side was a heavy door, secured by a padlock. Tom took these things in at a glance, and quite agreed with Josh, when he said,
"Now, then, you young robbers, you are secure for the night."
"And I would advise you to keep quiet, and not go to kicking up any fuss down here," chimed in Bill. "If you feel like going to sleep, you can lie down on those boxes."
Josh and Bill took their departure, and the Crusoe men were left to their meditations, and to the companionship of the rats. Tom heard them close and lock the door at the head of the stairs, and, groping his way to a box in one corner of the cellar, he sat down to think over his situation; while Xury, whistling softly to himself, began an examination of the windows. This coolness and indifference amazed Tom, who could not understand how a boy, with the prospect before him of serving out a term of years in the House of Refuge, could take matters so easily.
"O, now, quit that whistling," drawled Tom, who found it hard work to keep back his tears.
"What fur?" demanded Xury. "There's no use of bein' down in the mouth, cap'n. Scoldin' an' frettin' won't help us none."
"Did any body ever see so unlucky a boy as I am? Other fellows get along through the world without any trouble, but something is always happening to bother me. To-morrow morning I shall be taken back to the village."
"Well, I sha'n't. I aint goin' back to Newport till the governor says the word."
"But those men up stairs will make you go," drawled Tom.
"They'll have to find me first, won't they? If they think they can keep a Crusoe man in this cellar all night, they'll find out their mistake in the mornin'. They'll go to bed before long, an' then we'll see what we can do."
As Xury said this, he stretched himself out on the box beside his captain, and settling into a comfortable position, waited patiently for the farmer and his family to retire to rest. He expected to be free before morning; and, as his examination had satisfied him that he could not effect his escape without assistance, he was depending entirely upon the governor. Had he known what was going on at that moment, a short distance from the house, he might not have had so much faith in the chief's ability to release him.
Sam, Jack Spaniard, Friday, and Will Atkins, more fortunate than their fellows, succeeded in eluding their pursuers, and met on the bluff, above the cove, and sat down to rest after their long run, and to talk over the events of the night. The governor reported the capture of Tom and his mate. He was but a short distance from them when they were overtaken, although he did not know who the unlucky ones were, until he met the band on the cliff. The Crusoe men were dismayed when they learned the extent of their loss, and some of them were strongly in favor of abandoning their enterprise. Will Atkins, especially, was very much disheartened, and urged his companions to return to the village at once.
"The jig is up now, fellers," said he, "an' I, fur one, am goin' home. Tommy an' Xury are captured, an' the first thing we know, we may be gobbled up, too. An' even if we aint, we four fellers can't rob Mr. Henry's store, an' take the Sweepstakes besides."
"Now, Atkins, who asked you fur any advice?" demanded the governor, angrily. "The expedition aint dead yet, even if two of us have fallen into the hands of the enemy. As soon as we get rested we'll go up to the house, an' if we can find out where the cap'n an' Xury are, we'll help 'em."
"I've run risks enough," returned the discontented member. "I just aint a goin' up to the house."
"What's that you say?" exclaimed the chief, astonished and enraged to hear his authority thus set at defiance.
"I say I sha'n't go up to the house," repeated Atkins, decidedly; "an' I mean it."
"Why, you wouldn't have us to leave them two fellers without once tryin' to help 'em, would you?"
"I don't care what you do. You can do as you please, an' so will I."
"Now, Atkins, have you forgot them lessons I have given you? If you don't look out I'll have to larn you a few more. You're gettin' to be mighty sassy, lately."
"You can't scare me none, governor, fur I aint alone like I used to be. I've got at least one good friend in the band. Jack, you'll stand by me."
"I will," replied Jack Spaniard, who arose from the rock where he had been sitting, and walked over to the side of the mutineer. "You see, governor," he added, "me an' Atkins have got tired of doin' all the work. You never let us have things our way at all, an' we aint a goin' to stand it no longer. If you want to help the cap'n an' Xury you can do it yourself."
The governor listened to this speech in silence. He had been expecting a demonstration of this kind from Atkins, but he was not prepared for so decided an opposition to his authority. Atkins had long shown a disposition to make trouble in the band, and during the last three days he had been more disorderly than ever. The governor had often heard him grumbling to himself, and he had made up his mind to whip all the rebellious spirit out of him at the first good opportunity. That opportunity was now presented; but Sam did not think it safe to attempt to carry out his resolve. Atkins was backed up by Jack Spaniard, and with his aid, he was likely to prove more than a match for the redoubtable bully. If Tom and his mate had been there to assist him, he could have crushed the rebellion in short order.
"Of all the mean things that have happened in the band since I got to be governor, this yere is the beat," said Sam, after a moment's pause. "You two fellers promised, not more'n two weeks ago, to obey all orders, an' to stand by your friends, if they got into trouble; an' now you are goin' back on your word. There aint no honor about such fellers as you be. Friday, whose side are you on?"
"On your'n, governor; I don't think we shall ever see our island now, but I'll stick to you as long as any body does."
"All right!" exclaimed the chief, immensely relieved. "Jack Spaniard, you're always been a good, law-abidin' man, an' if you'll come away from that feller, I won't say nothin' to you; I'll let you off easy. An' you, Atkins, you've been spilin' fur a good drubbin', an' the only way you can escape it, is by sayin' that you'll tend to your duty, an' obey orders like a man had oughter do. Let's hear from you."
"I won't do duty," replied Atkins, sullenly.
Jack Spaniard hesitated a moment before he answered. He knew that those who had dared to oppose the governor, had thus far been brought to grief, and he was almost inclined to take him at his word, and leave Atkins to fight his own battles. But he had been highly incensed by the new rules Tom had introduced into the society, and, believing that he was as good as any body, he did not like to be obliged to act the part of a servant. More than that, the events of the night had dampened his ardor. He began to see that there were a multitude of risks to be run, and a good many obstacles to be overcome, before they could begin their intended cruise, and he thought it policy to abandon the enterprise before he found himself in serious trouble.
"Me an' Atkins will stick together," said he.
"Very good," replied the chief; "an' you an' Atkins may make up your minds to sup sorrow with the same spoon. I am governor of this band, an' I'll come out at the top of the heap yet; now you mark what I say. What are you goin' to do?"
"We're goin' into the cove after our share of the outfit," replied Will Atkins. "When we get it, we're goin back to the village. Come on, Jack; we've wasted time enough in talkin'."
The two mutineers began to descend the cliff, keeping their eyes fastened on the governor, and holding themselves in readiness to resist any attack; but, to Friday's surprise, Sam made no attempt to detain them.
When Atkins and his companion had disappeared down the path that led to the cove, Sam placed his hands behind his back, and began pacing thoughtfully to and fro, while Friday, dismayed and perplexed by this unlooked-for event, and utterly unable to discover any way out of the difficulty, stretched himself on the ground and waited for the chief to speak.
The affairs of the band were certainly beginning to look desperate. With two of his best men in the hands of the enemy, two more setting his authority at defiance, and with only one companion upon whom to depend, what could the governor do? A less determined and persevering boy would have given up in despair; but Sam, who, since the idea of leading Crusoe life had been suggested to him, had thought and dreamed about nothing else, was not easily discouraged. He was resolved that he would not abandon the course of action which had been determined on by the band a few days before; but he could not carry it out unless assisted by the two mutineers, and, as they could not be coaxed to listen to reason, they must be compelled. He would punish them for their disobedience, and show them, once for all, that his authority could not be resisted with impunity.
"Friday," said he, "I'll never forget you fur this night's work. You've got the best name of any of us, an' so has Will Atkins. The Friday the book tells about stuck to Crusoe like a brother, an' Atkins done nothin' but study up meanness an' mischief. Our Atkins is doin' the same thing; but he won't make nothin', no more'n the one he's named after did. He'll be glad enough to come to terms by mornin', now you see if he aint. We don't intend to let him an' Jack Spaniard go back to the village to blow on us, an' the first thing to be done is to fasten 'em in the cove, so that we can find 'em when we want 'em."
"How are we goin' to do it?" asked Friday.
"We'll take down the bridge," replied the governor, with a chuckle, "an' then let's see 'em get out. They don't know the channels across the shoals, so, of course, they won't dare to try to sail out; an' after the bridge is gone, there's only one way they can get across the gully. I'll larn 'em how to get up a mutiny."
The chief, after lighting his lantern, led the way down the path, and presently came to a halt on the brink of the chasm. Atkins and Jack Spaniard having crossed it a few minutes before, the rope was on the opposite side, and Friday could see no way to obtain possession of it.
"I'll tell you how I am goin' to manage it," said the governor, in answer to an inquiring glance from his companion. "I told you there is one way to get across, even after the bridge is gone, didn't I? Well, do you see this tree here? It leans over the gully, an' one of its limbs runs into the tree on the opposite side that the rope is made fast to."
Friday elevated his lantern and gazed up into the darkness, but could see nothing more than a dense canopy of leaves and branches hanging over the chasm. He shuddered at the thought of attempting to cross on so frail a bridge. "I wouldn't go up there fur nothin'," said he, "an' I wouldn't advise you to try it, either."
"Well, it aint the pleasantest job in the world," replied Sam, carelessly, "but I know just where the limb is, an' I am sure I can cross on it. Howsomever, I am free to confess, that if I could think of any other way to get the rope, I wouldn't try it."
"If you can cross that way, what's the reason that Will Atkins an' Jack Spaniard can't do it too?" inquired Friday.
"'Cause, after I get over an' come back, nobody will ever cross the gully that way again. We'll pull the limb down. Now, you hold the lantern up high an' give me all the light you can. It's mighty dark up there, an' I don't care about missin' my hold an' fallin down on them rocks."
The chief scrambled up the cliff to the tree of which he had spoken, and began to ascend it. He worked his way up with the agility of a squirrel, and presently disappeared from the view of his man below. When he came in sight again, he was on the limb that stretched out over the chasm, and which was bending and cracking beneath his weight in a manner that made Friday extremely nervous. But Sam resolutely held on his way, and finally swung himself safely into the branches of the tree on the opposite side. After securing the rope, he threw one end of it to Friday, made the other fast to the limb on which he had crossed the gully, and a few moments afterward he slid down the bluff and seated himself on the ground beside his companion, to recover his breath.
"I'll show them fellers what they are about," said he, wiping the big drops of perspiration from his face. "I'll larn 'em how to get up a mutiny, after promisin', honor bright, to obey all orders. Now, if we've got muscle enough to break that limb, we are all right."
"Couldn't Atkins make a bridge, by cuttin' down one of them trees?" asked Friday.
"No, he couldn't. The trees on that side won't fall across the gully, 'cause they all lean the other way. Ketch hold, now, an' pull fur life."
The governor and his man grasped the ropes, and, exerting all their strength, suddenly found themselves lying flat in the path. The limb, unable to resist the strain brought to bear upon it, parted with a noise like the report of a cannon, and fell crashing into the gully, carrying with it a perfect avalanche of rocks and earth which it detached from the opposite bluff. That bridge was destroyed, and there was no way of escape for the mutineers.
The next thing was to untie the rope from the limb which lay at the bottom of the chasm. The only way it could be accomplished was for one of the Crusoe men to go down into the gully, and this Friday volunteered to do. Accordingly, the end of the rope which they held in their hands was made fast to the nearest tree, and Friday, after tying the lantern around his waist, descended out of sight. In a few minutes he re-appeared, climbing the rope, which was pulled up and hidden away in the bushes.
"That job is done," said the chief, with a long breath of relief, "an' them two fellers are fastened up as tight as if they were in jail. I'll larn 'em how to get up a mutiny!"
"But, governor, how will we get across?" asked Friday.
"Easy enough. One of us will climb up an' make one end of the rope fast to this tree that leans over the gully, an' we'll swing back an' forth just as we did before. The next job we've got to do aint so easy. It's one I don't like; but, if I was a prisoner, I'd think it mighty mean of my men if they deserted me, an' I'm goin' to do to the cap'n an' Xury just as I'd like to be done by."
The governor and his man ascended to the top of the bluff, and bent their steps toward the farm-house, which was now shrouded in total darkness. The inmates had all retired to rest, happy in the belief that those of the band who had escaped had made the best of their way to the village, and that their potato-patch was safe for the rest of the night. But the Crusoe men, apprehensive that the farmer might still be on the watch, were at first very cautious in their movements. They walked around the house several times without seeing any signs of the enemy, and, growing bolder by degrees, began to search the out-buildings, hoping that Tom and his mate might be confined in one of them. But their efforts to ascertain the whereabouts of their unlucky companions were unrewarded, and, after half an hour's fruitless search, even Sam began to get discouraged.
"Mebbe they have taken them to the village already," he whispered, leaning disconsolately against a corner of the house. "If they have, the expedition is up stump, easy enough, an' we can bid good-by to all hopes of ever seein' our island. What's that? Didn't you hear some one call?"
"I thought I did," replied Friday, "but I wasn't sartin'."
"I say, governor, are you deaf? Look this way. Here we are."
The words seemed to come from the ground at their very feet; and the governor and Friday heard them plainly enough this time. Their attention was drawn to one of the cellar windows, and there they saw the two prisoners, with their faces pressed close against the bars.
"What are you doin' down there?" asked Friday, in an excited whisper. "Are you locked up?"
"I reckon," replied Xury. "We wouldn't stay here if we wasn't, would we?"
"O, now, yes, we're locked up," drawled Tom, who, delighted as he was at seeing the chief, could not forget his lazy way of talking. "But you are going to let us out, are you not?"
"Sartin. That's what we come here fur, an' we'll do it if we have to burn the shantee."
"You needn't go to all that trouble, governor," said Xury. "Do you see that door around there on the other side of the house?"
Sam walked around the building, and when he came back, he said that he had seen the door.
"Well," continued Xury, "all you have got to do is to raise a rumpus out there, an' awaken the people up stairs."
"Humph!" sneered Sam.
"Hold on till I get through, governor. Of course, when they hear you, they'll come out an' foller you; an' when the men have all left the house, one of you can slip back an' cut down that door an' let us out. Here's an ax to do it with," he added, passing the implement through the window to the chief.
"That's a good idea, after all," said Sam.
"Friday, you take the ax, an' I'll do the runnin'. I'll lead the fellers toward the beach, an' you stay here an' watch your chance to beat down that door. How many folks are there in the house, Xury?"
"Ten altogether—six men an' boys, an' four women," was the reply. "I know, 'cause I counted 'em."
"Of course, the women will stay in the house," continued the governor, addressing himself to Friday; "an' when they hear you cuttin' at the door, they'll be sartin to come out an' holler at you; but that needn't scare you. Now, then, how shall we awaken the folks?"
The chief had scarcely propounded this question, when it was answered in way he had not expected. A window above him was thrown open, a head appeared, and a voice called out, "Well, I swan!"
The governor and his man did not wait to hear what the farmer had to say next. The enemy were aroused, and an opportunity was given them to try the plan Xury had suggested. Friday, who well understood the part he was expected to perform, sprang around the house out of sight; while Sam started across the field toward the beach.
"Stop there, you young rascal!" shouted the man in the window. "Josh! Bill! Wake up, an' get out there! Those robbers have come back again!"
The window came down with a crush, and Friday, who had by this time concealed himself behind a corn-crib, a short distance from the cellar door, heard a great commotion in the house. Lights flashed from the windows, men and women run about calling to each other, and presently the door opened and Josh and Bill appeared.
"There they are!" exclaimed one discovering Sam, who was by this time well on his way across the field; "hurry up there, boys. He's got a long start, and is running like a scared turkey."
These last words were addressed to the men in the house, who came out one after another, some without their hats, some bare-footed, others pulling on their coats as they ran, and all following after Bill and Josh, who were flying across the field in hot pursuit of the governor. Friday, from his hiding-place, counted them as they sprang down the steps, and when the sixth man had left the house, and was out of sight in the darkness, he straightened up and prepared for action. He listened a moment to the shrill, excited voices of the women, and clutching his ax with a firm hold, he came out from behind the corn-crib and ran toward the house. A few rapid steps brought him to the cellar door, which he attacked furiously. The first blow he struck echoed through the cellar like a peal of thunder, alarming the women up stairs; and the second brought them to the porch, where they stood watching Friday's operations in speechless amazement. The Crusoe man, intent on releasing his companions, gave no heed to what was going on around him, until a chorus of angry screams arose from the porch; then he started and trembled a little, but was not frightened from his work. He redoubled his efforts, the door began to bend and groan, and was finally forced from its fastenings, and Tom and his mate sprang out. Then the screams arose in greater volume than before, and reached the ears of the farmer and his men, who abandoned the pursuit of the governor, and returned to the house with all possible speed. But they were too late; for, long before they arrived, Tom and his companions had made good their escape. The shattered door, and the ax lying where Friday had thrown it after effecting the release of the prisoners, were all that were left to remind the farmer of the Crusoe band.
"Hip! hip! hurrah!" exclaimed Tom Newcombe, in an excited whisper, "I am free once more, and I'll have a chance yet to destroy that yacht. If the crew of the Storm King only knew what is going to happen, they would be sorry that I escaped."
"You can thank me for it," said Sam.
"An' me, too," chimed in Xury. "I was the one who found the ax in the cellar an' studied up the plan the governor carried out."
"I guess I had oughter have a little of the praise," observed Friday. "It aint every feller who would have stood there an' cut down that door with all them women hollerin' at him."
"We've all done well," said the chief, "all except Will Atkins an' Jack Spaniard, an' they are cowards an' traitors."
The Crusoe men were gathered on the bluff at the head of the path, sweating and panting, and congratulating themselves on the success of their undertaking. The governor, especially, regarded it as something well worth boasting of, and he was in excellent spirits. His society, although it had thus far failed to accomplish the object for which it was organized, had already made for itself a brilliant record. It had performed an exploit in the village that would be talked about and wondered at as long as the military academy should stand, or the present generation of boys exist. Its members, acting under his instructions, had overpowered three times their number of students, captured their vessel, and would certainly have got out to sea with her but for the treachery of Tom Newcombe. But, great as was this achievement, it sank into insignificance when compared with the one they had just performed. The chief had succeeded in releasing the prisoners confined in the farm-house, and that, too, with the assistance of only one companion, and in the face of a mutiny that had, at one time, bid fair to break up the Crusoe band. The governor assumed the lion's share of the honor of this exploit, and, as he thought, with good reason, for he had run all the risk. He had led the men away from the house, and given Friday a chance to cut down the door. His affairs had looked desperate a little while before, but by his skill and determination he had succeeded in bringing some order out of the confusion, and the only thing that remained to be done was to punish the traitors, which was a matter he could attend to at his leisure. He believed that the rebellion had already died out, and that, when he descended into the cove, he would find the mutineers ready to accept any terms he might see fit to offer them.
"What's become of Atkins and Jack Spaniard?" asked Tom, who seemed, for the first time, to notice the absence of those worthies. "I don't see them anywhere."
"Didn't I say that they were traitors and cowards?" replied the governor. "Listen, now, an' I'll tell you all about it."
Sam then proceeded to give Tom and his mate a glowing description of the mutiny, and, during the course of his narration, he artfully aroused their indignation by dwelling upon the meanness and cowardice displayed by Atkins and Jack Spaniard in deserting the band at the very time their services were most needed, to assist in releasing the prisoners, and wound up by telling how he had secured possession of the rope and pulled down the limb, thus cutting off all chance of escape for the mutineers. Tom and Xury were highly enraged, especially the former, who denounced the faithless Crusoe men in the strongest terms. He also took occasion to impress his auditors with the fact that the society could not long exist without the hearty co-operation of all its members, and that no punishment was too severe for one who could refuse to hasten to the relief of a comrade in distress. Tom made a long speech on this subject, emphasizing his remarks by shaking his fists in the air, and stamping his feet on the ground, and all the while forgetting that, when questioned by the farmer in the house, he had been on the point of committing the very sin he was so loudly condemning. Xury remembered the circumstance, but he did not think it worth speaking about.
"I 'spose that, bein' an officer, I have a right to say something, haint I?" asked the mate, when Tom had finished his speech. "Well, I just want to tell you how I think them two fellers can be made to listen to reason. That farmer said he was goin' to take us over to the village in the mornin' an' have us put in—what kind of a house did he say that was, cap'n?"
"The House of Refuge," replied Tom.
"Yes, that's it. He said he was goin' to put us in that house fur three or four years, an' that it would be the best place in the world fur us. Now, can't we scare them two mutineers by tellin' 'em that if they don't do what's right we will give 'em up to the farmer, an' let him take 'em before the 'squire? That will bring 'em to terms, if any thing will."
"But how can we give 'em up to the farmer without bein' ketched ourselves?" asked Sam.
"We can tie 'em hand an' foot, an' take 'em up to the house some night an' leave 'em on the porch, can't we? But, of course, we don't want to do it, governor, 'cause we can't get along without 'em. We only want to make them behave themselves like men had oughter do."
"Mebbe it would be well to have a hold of some kind on 'em," said the chief, after thinking the matter over, "'cause they're spunky fellers, an' can't be easy scared. But, after all, I aint afraid to say that they've come to their senses before this time. Let's go down and see 'em."
The governor once more lighted his lantern, and, after shouldering a bag of potatoes, which he had found as he came through the field, and which had doubtless been overlooked by the farmer, he led the way down the cliff to the chasm, where he stopped, astonished at the scene presented to his view. It was evident, from the appearance of things, that Atkins and Jack Spainard were very far from being the humble, penitent fellows the governor had hoped to find them. They had discovered the trick that had been played upon them, and, being resolved that, if they could not get out of the cove, the governor should not come into it, they had fortified their side of the chasm by erecting a breastwork of bushes across the path. A fire burned brightly behind the breastwork, and beside it stood the two mutineers, engaged in stripping the branches from a couple of small trees they had just cut down. They ceased their work when they heard the chief and his men approaching, and, taking up their positions behind the breastwork, looked across the chasm at them as if waiting to hear what they had to say.
"Well, if there aint the cap'n an' Xury!" exclaimed Jack Spaniard, who seemed greatly astonished to see the governor thus re-enforced. "How did you get away?"
"Me an' Friday helped 'em, no thanks to you two cowards an' traitors," replied Sam, angrily. "What's the meanin' of all this yere?" he added, surveying the war-like preparations with some uneasiness.
"It means just this, governor," replied Atkins; "we know what you are up to, an' we aint goin' to stand no more nonsense. We're goin' to fight it out."
"Then you haven't made up your minds to do duty, an' behave yourselves?"
"No, we haint. We've got our share of the outfit, an' we're goin' home. We aint goin' to be servants fur nobody."
"I reckon you won't go home in a hurry. We have got you fastened up in there, an' we can starve you to death if we feel like it."
"You'll have a nice time doin' it, seein' that all the grub is on our side of the gully," said Jack Spaniard, with a laugh. "But you haint got us fastened up so tight as you think fur. Do you see these poles?" he added, lifting the sapling upon which he had been at work when the governor came in sight; "well, when we get the branches all off, we're goin' to make a bridge with 'em."
"Not much you aint; we've got something to say about that. Now, I'll give you five minutes to make up your minds whether or not you will come back into the band, an' behave yourselves like men had oughter do, or be delivered up to that farmer, who will take you before 'Squire Thompson, an' have you put in jail fur robbin' his potato-patch. Let's hear from you. I am listenin' with all the ears I've got."
The actions of the two mutineers afforded abundant proof that Xury knew their weak side when he suggested that the chief should threaten them with the law. The name of 'Squire Thompson was a terror to evil-doers about the village, and Atkins and his companion were very much afraid of him. They looked at each other, doubtfully, and held a council of war; while Sam employed the interval in consulting with his men, and trying to decide upon some plan to capture the mutineers, should the result of their consultation be unfavorable to him.
"We aint comin' back into the band," said Atkins, at length, "an' we aint goin' to the village as prisoners, neither. We're goin' to fight it out."
"All right," replied the governor, indifferently. "If you remember what the book says, you know that Will Atkins never made any thing by kicking up a fuss on Robinson's island, an' you will come out of the little end of the horn, just as he did. Look out for yourselves over there, now. Come with me, fellers."
The governor and his men moved up the cliffs, until a bend in the path concealed them from the view of the mutineers. They were gone so long that Atkins and his companion began to wonder what had become of them; but at the end of a quarter of an hour, Sam had completed his arrangements for an attack upon the stronghold of the rebels, and presently Friday appeared with a rope tied around his waist, and began to ascend a tree that leaned over the chasm.
"Hold on, there!" exclaimed Atkins, suddenly starting up from behind the breastwork. "You think you're smart, an' mebbe you are; but you can't put that bridge up under our very eyes. We've got a whole pile of rocks here, an' if you don't come down out of that tree to onct, we'll fire on you. Jerusalem! What's that?"
Just as the mutineer had finished threatening Friday, something whizzed through the air in unpleasant proximity to his head. It was a potato, thrown by the dextrous hand of the chief, and was followed by more missiles of the same sort, which whistled over the breastwork in a continuous shower. Atkins dropped like a flash, and picking up a stone in each hand, cautiously raised his head to look for the enemy; but the instant the crown of his hat appeared above the breastwork, it became a mark for the watchful Crusoe men, who sent the potatoes about his ears so thick and fast that Atkins was glad to drop down again.
"Keep your eyes open, men," cried the governor, "an' fire at the first one who dares to show himself. Atkins, when you get ready to surrender, just sing out. That's all you've got to do."
The mutineers were as fairly captured as if they had been bound hand and foot. They could neither retreat nor defend themselves. A cracking and rustling among the branches above, told them that Friday was engaged in putting up the bridge; and they knew that unless they could dislodge him they would soon be at closer quarters with the enemy.
"I'll give you just a half a minute to get down out of that tree," exclaimed Atkins.
"We don't want to hurt you, but we aint goin' to let you put up that bridge," said Jack Spaniard.
The rustling among the branches ceased for a moment, and Friday peeped through the leaves at the mutineers, both of whom were lying flat on their backs behind the breastwork. Seeing at a glance that he had nothing to fear from them, he went on with his work.
Atkins and his companion, finding that threats were unavailing, began to bestir themselves. They made loop-holes through the breastwork, but could not see their besiegers. Sam had posted his men on the cliff, outside the circle of light made by the fire, and consequently they were invisible to the mutineers; while the latter had built their fort in the full glare of the fire-light, and every move they made could be distinctly seen. They could not even use the loop-holes after they made them; for the governor and his men were always on the watch, and threw their potatoes so swiftly and accurately that the rebels were obliged to keep themselves well sheltered. Friday was still busy among the branches of the tree, and, when he had finished the work of putting up the bridge, he also opened fire. His shot was followed by another shower from the men posted on the cliff, who expended their ammunition without stint, sending the potatoes over and around the breastwork so thickly, that Atkins and his companion were once more obliged to throw themselves flat upon the ground to escape being hit. Suddenly the firing ceased, and a dark object came flying over the chasm into the fort. It was the governor, who, the moment he landed on his feet, began operations by pouncing upon the mutineers, throwing an arm around the neck of each, and holding them fast. How much he could have done toward conquering them it is hard to tell. The rebels were both determined fellows, and when they had sufficiently recovered from their astonishment to see that Sam was alone, they began to struggle furiously. But help for the governor was near. When he let go the rope it swung back into the hands of Xury, who was waiting to receive it, and he, too, came sailing over the breastwork, and dropped down upon Jack Spaniard, who had succeeded in freeing himself from the chief's grasp, and was rising to his feet. Tom Newcombe followed close behind, and Friday brought up the rear. They came, one after the other, as rapidly as the rope could swing back and forth; and the rebels, finding themselves overpowered, began to beg for quarter.
"Avast, there!" cried Sam, and Friday's uplifted hand sank harmlessly to his side, instead of falling upon the unprotected face of the chief mutineer. "Let 'em up. I'll answer for their good behavior now."
The rebels were quite as much astonished at the governor's clemency as were the other members of the band. They arose slowly to their feet, and gazed about them with a bewildered, suspicious air, as if half expecting to receive a kick or blow from some unlooked-for source. Atkins, in particular, scarcely knew what to make of it. He surveyed the chief from head to foot, as if he were hardly prepared to believe that he was the same old ruler of the Crusoe band who had taught him so many lessons of obedience at their cave in the village. Sam stood for a few moments enjoying his surprise, when he suddenly became aware that Atkins's eyes were not fastened upon him, but that they appeared to be looking through him, at something on the other side of the chasm. A feeling of uneasiness crept over the chief, for he saw that the expression on the face of his man was changing from astonishment to alarm. "What is it?" he whispered, not daring to look around.
Atkins, in reply, slowly raised his hand until it was on a level with his shoulder, and pointed toward the bluff across the gully; and, at the same instant, the governor nearly jumped from the ground when he heard an ejaculation that had become familiar to him that night—
"Well, I swan!"
He faced about quickly, and caught just one glimpse of a dark figure which was gliding swiftly and noiselessly up the path. All the Crusoe men saw it, and they were so astonished and dismayed by the unlooked-for interruption, that, for a moment, none of them could speak.
Tom Newcombe was the first to recover the use of his tongue. "O, now, we're caught, easy enough," he drawled. "This kills the expedition, and we might as well surrender ourselves prisoners at once. I always was the unluckiest boy in the whole world."
Just at that moment Sam Barton was of the same opinion regarding himself. His exultation at the victory he had gained over the rebels, gave way to a feeling of intense excitement and alarm. His under jaw dropped down, and he stood looking across the chasm toward the place where the spy had disappeared, as if he had suddenly been deprived of the power of action. It was no wonder that he was alarmed. His hiding-place had been discovered, and, of course, that ruined everything.
"Jerusalem!" ejaculated Will Atkins, who, now that his mutiny had been brought to an end, was quite willing to swear allegiance to the Crusoe band once more. "Did you see him, governor?"
"Well, I swan!" exclaimed Sam, unconsciously repeating the words the spy had used. "Did I see him? Have I got a pair of eyes? We're in a fix now, fellers. That ar' chap is another Bobby Jennings, an' if he gets away he'll ruin us, sure an' sartin." As the governor uttered these words they seemed to suggest a plan of operations. "Foller him up, lads," he exclaimed, excitedly. "Foller him up!"
"O, now, how do we know that he is alone?" drawled Tom. "Perhaps the farmer and all his men are with him."
"We've got to run that risk," replied Xury, seizing the rope and jumping over the chasm. "We must ketch him if we can. It's our only chance."
Tom could not help acknowledging this, and, although he trembled a little when he thought of the danger he might be about to run into, he crossed the gully with the others, and followed close behind the governor as he dashed up the path in pursuit of the spy.
"O now, I've seen some stirring times in my life, but I never before had so many adventures crowded into the short space of one night!" panted the captain of the Crusoe band, as he followed the chief up the cliff. "I would give something handsome to know what is going to happen next!"
Tom had indeed enjoyed his full share of excitement since the sun went down. He had been captured by the Philistines, and confined as a prisoner of war in the farm-house; he had taken an active part in storming the stronghold of the rebels; and was now toiling up the path in pursuit of a spy, who, if he escaped, would return with a force sufficient to surround and capture the Crusoe band. Nothing in his experience with the Night-hawks could equal the adventures of this night, and they were by no means ended. He would have been astonished had he known that they were only just begun. If the events that were to happen during the next few hours could have been revealed to him, he might have been tempted to desert the band and return to his home. The derision of his acquaintances, and the extra office duties that would, no doubt, have been imposed upon him, would have been light punishment indeed, compared with what was in store for him. The race up the cliff was a short one. The Crusoe men had a decided advantage of the fugitive, for they had traveled the path so often that they had but little difficulty in following it; while the spy's progress was delayed by the rocks and bushes, over which he stumbled in the dark, making noise sufficient to guide his enemies in the pursuit.
"He aint fur off," whispered the governor, "an' he's alone, too. If there were any fellers with him we could hear 'em. Hold on, up there! You can't escape, an' you'll fare a heap better if you surrender to onct."
But the spy was evidently not one of the kind who surrender upon demand. He held steadily on his way, although his pursuers gained at every step, and when they had accomplished about half the distance to the summit, Sam was near enough to the fugitive to seize him by the collar.
"Surrender now—no foolin'!" said he, in a very savage tone of voice. "We'll treat you like a man if you behave yourself."
Somewhat to the governor's surprise, the spy offered no resistance. The darkness was so intense that he could not see how many enemies he had to deal with, but, knowing that they were much too strong for him, he suffered himself to be led down the path to the chasm. The fire kindled by the mutineers was still burning brightly and by the aid of its light, the Crusoe men were enabled to take a good survey of their prisoner. He was a sturdy, bare-footed boy, about Tom's age, and might have been a second Xury, so self-possessed was he. He looked at his captors, one after the other, as if taking their exact measure, and finally said:
"Well, I swan! If I had known that you were boys like myself, I wouldn't have been caught so easy. I'd like to know what you are doing down here?"
"Fellers, his name is Jed," said Xury, by way of introduction. "I know, 'cause I saw him up to the house, an' I heard his dad call him Jed. He looked at me an' the cap'n mighty sassy then, but now he'll find out how it seems to be a prisoner."
"Is there any one with you?" asked Tom.
"No, I came alone," replied Jed.
"How did you find us?"
"I saw the light of that fire shining above the cliff".
Upon hearing this the governor glared so savagely at the mutineers, that those worthies, fearing that he was about to abandon his pacific policy, retreated a step or two and began to look around for something with which to defend themselves. But the wound caused by the mutiny was nearly healed, and Sam, after a moment's reflection, concluded that he could not afford to reopen it, or to stir up any new quarrels. He believed that he would soon have need of the services of all his men, and it was necessary to keep on good terms with them.
"I have lived on this farm all my life," continued Jed, "but I never knew before that there was a way to get down here."
"Well, there is," said Xury; "an' some day, when you are a free man, you can go down by this path to the rocks below, an' find the best fishing grounds in Newport harbor."
"Who's talkin' about fishin'?" interrupted the governor, whose brain was busy with more important matters. "What do you reckon your ole man will do with us if he ketches us?"
"If!" repeated Jed. "He is bound to ketch you. When I go home I shall bring him right down here."
"But mebbe you won't go back to the house in a hurry," said Sam.
"Well, then, father will know that something has happened to me, and he will begin searching the island. He'll find you, you may depend upon that; and, when he gets hold of you, he'll put you where you won't rob any more potato-patches. Where do you fellows belong, anyhow? What are you staying here for, and what are you going to do with me?"
The governor made no reply to these questions, for something his prisoner had said excited a serious train of reflections in his mind. The events of the last five minutes had sadly interfered with his arrangements. His harboring place was broken up now, and by daylight the island would be too hot to hold him. What should he do? That was a question he could not answer at once; he must have time to think it over. At a sign from him Atkins and Friday crossed the chasm; but, when he ordered Jed to follow, he declined to move.
"What shall I go over there for?" he demanded.
"'Cause it's our orders. We're goin' to keep you here for awhile."
"Well, I swan to man!" said Jed.
"If we should let you go, you might tell on us, you know. Come, ketch hold of the rope an' go on."
"Well—no; I guess I won't go of my own free will. If you want me over there you must put me over."
"All right," replied the governor, pulling out his knife and cutting off a piece of the rope; "we're just the fellers that can do it. Come back here, men. Now," he added, when Atkins and Friday had recrossed the chasm, "all hands pitch in, and tie him, hand and foot."
The Crusoe men knew, by Jed's looks, that he was all muscle and pluck, and consequently they were not surprised at his stubborn resistance. They "pitched in" with alacrity, and one of them did something that Sam had not calculated on—he "pitched out" again, directly. It was Tom Newcombe, who, the instant he laid his hand on the prisoner's collar, was seized around the body and thrown heavily on the rocks. He gathered himself up as quickly as possible, drew down the corners of his mouth, rubbed his elbow, and stood off at a safe distance and looked on. Will Atkins received a back-handed blow over his eye that caused him to see a million of stars; but, as he had more pluck than Tom, and was anxious to restore himself to the governor's favor, he merely stopped long enough to say, "Jerusalem!" and then "pitched in" harder than ever. Of course; Jed was conquered; but it was only after a protracted struggle.
"Now we're all right," exclaimed the governor, assisting his prisoner to his feet and pulling him toward the edge of the chasm, "an' I reckon you'll go over, won't you? Atkins, you and Friday go across ag'in an' stand by to ketch him. Xury," he continued, when this order has been obeyed, "pass the rope under his arms an' make it fast, while me an' the cap'n hold him."
Jed, having by this time been fully convinced that it was idle to resist, submitted to the Crusoe men, at the same time reminding them that the chasm was deep, and that a fall upon the rocks below might break his neck, and give Sam and his band something more serious than the robbing of a potato-patch to answer for.
"Now, don't you be any ways oneasy," replied the governor. "You didn't harm my men while you had 'em pris'ners, an' I won't harm you, neither. Are you fellers over there all ready? If you are, look out fur him, fur here he comes."
Jed's position just then was not a comfortable one. His hands were confined behind his back, his feet bound close together, and he was to be swung over the chasm as if he had been a sack of corn. The governor seized him by the hips, pulled him back until his feet were clear of the ground, and then let him go. He swung safely over the gully, and when he came within reach of Atkins and Friday, he was caught and held by one, while the other untied the rope. The Crusoe men followed after, and when all had crossed, the governor ordered Atkins and Jack Spaniard to put out the fire. As soon as this had been done, and the mutineers had collected the articles of the outfit, which they had intended to take back to the village with them, the governor lighted his lantern, and turned to the prisoner.
"Have you found out, by this time, that we can do just what we please with you?" he asked. "Now, will you walk down to the cove, or shall we tote you?"
"Well, I guess I'd best walk, hadn't I?" replied Jed, who was sharp enough to know that, however carefully he might be handled, he could not escape some severe bruises while being carried down that steep path. "Yes. I reckon I'll walk."
"All right; Xury, untie his feet, and you an' the cap'n look out fur him, an' see that he don't fall down."
The governor led the way to the cove, and, after the prisoner had been laid on one of the beds in the cabin, and the two mutineers had restored the outfit to its place, the Crusoe men stretched themselves on the grass near the spring, to hold a council of war. By the aid of the lantern, which he had placed on the little knoll that served for the table, the chief scanned the faces of his companions, and saw that on every one of them were reflected the thoughts that had been busy in his own brain. All his men believed as he did—that a crisis in their affairs was at hand. Tom Newcombe, as usual, was the first to speak.
"O, now, what's to be done?" he drawled. "If we keep this prisoner here his father will begin searching for him in the morning, and he will be certain to discover our hiding-place sooner or later. If we release him, he will go home and return immediately with help enough to capture us all."
"Well, that might not be as easy a job as you think fur," replied the governor. "If we are sharp, we can hold our own here against a dozen fellers, for a day or two. But we don't want to fight. We want to get away from here as easy as we can. Atkins, what have you and Jack Spaniard got to say about it? Are you waitin' fur a chance to get up another mutiny?"
"No, governor, I aint," replied the chief conspirator, quickly. "I'll never do it again."
"Nor me, neither," said Jack Spaniard. "There's my hand on it—honor bright."
"Of course I can't put as much faith in you as I did before," said the chief, as he shook hands with the mutineers. "After a man has fooled me once, I never like to trust him any more till he proves that he is all right."
"Just tell us what you want done, governor," said Atkins, "an' if we don't do it you needn't never believe us ag'in."
"Well, mebbe I shall have a chance to try you before mornin'. You've got to stick to us now or be taken before the 'squire. If you should go back to Newport an' begin ferryin' ag'in, that farmer's boy would come across you some time, and then where would you be? We can't none of us go back to the village, an' we can't live here, neither, so we must start for our island at once—this very night. If we stay till mornin' that farmer an all his men will be down here lookin' fur Jed; and if they once discover us, an' get us surrounded, we're done fur. Cap'n, stand by to get that yawl under way, an' the rest of us turn to an' pack the outfit."
The Crusoe men obeyed these orders without making any comments upon them. They had often discussed this very move. They had talked about it bravely enough, and had even expressed their impatience at being obliged to remain so long inactive, but, now that the time had arrived, and they had heard the order given to break up their camp, more than half of them felt like backing out. They knew that they were about to encounter the real dangers that lay in their path, and which they had thus far viewed at a distance. The Sweepstakes must be captured, the provisions secured, and they must assist Tom in destroying the yacht. It was no wonder that they looked into the future with doubtful eyes. Improbable as it may seem, the governor had the least to say of any one in the band, while Tom was as jolly as a boy could be. He obeyed his orders promptly, shoving the yawl from the beach, and mooring her broadside to the bluff bank in front of the cabin, so that the cargo could be easily stowed away. After that he hoisted the sail, and was ready to lend assistance in packing up the outfit. He stepped gayly about his work, joking and laughing the while with his companions, who were astonished to see him in such spirits.