The Crusoe men were well aware of that fact, and Tom's orders being strictly carried out, the Sweepstakes was got under way very speedily. But, just as the wind filled the sails, and she began to move through the water, Xury discovered their pursuers.
"Stand by, governor," he exclaimed. "Here comes them spooneys."
Sam looked over the stern and saw the jolly-boat swiftly approaching the schooner.
When the crew of the Storm King saw the flames coming out of the fore-hatchway, and learned from the anchor watch that Tom Newcombe had turned up again, and that he had been on board the yacht, to carry out that "splendid idea" of which he had spoken, their amazement and indignation knew no bounds; and there was not one among them who would not willingly have given up all his chances for promotion, if he could have had that boy within reach of his arm for one minute. And when Midshipman Richardson, flying down the harbor in the jolly-boat, heard the fire-bell ring, and, looking over his shoulder, saw the smoke ascending from his vessel, he placed his hand on the cutlass which hung at his side, and told himself that, if he could only get one finger on the collar of Tom Newcombe's jacket, he would capture him or perish in the attempt. If Tom had only known it, he had, at last, succeeded in thoroughly arousing the students. They had thus far treated him much more leniently than he deserved—not out of any love for him, but because of their respect and affection for his father; but now they had one and all resolved that he had done damage enough. He need not try to save himself by flight, for he could not do it. They would hunt him high and low, and they would find him, too; and when they got their hands on him, they would see that he did not escape the consequences of his last act. Of course the students never said all this, for they were so busy that they did not have time to say any thing; but they were as determined about it, and as certain of each other's assistance, as though they had talked the matter over, and already decided upon a general plan of action.
The first lieutenant had never in his life been more astonished and alarmed. That his evil genius should reappear again so suddenly, when every body believed him to be miles away, and that he should have the audacity to board the vessel, and set fire to her under the very noses of the anchor-watch, when he knew that the chances were not one in ten that he could escape detection, was almost incredible. Harry could not understand it. It showed what a reckless, vindictive fellow Tom Newcombe was, and how determined he was, too, when he once made up his mind to any thing.
"You've reached the end of your rope, my hearty," were the first thoughts that passed through Harry's mind. "You've got to lead Crusoe life now, sure, for you can never return to this village." Then he stamped his foot on the deck, and looking impatiently down the harbor in the direction the jolly-boat had gone, exclaimed, aloud: "O, what shall I do? That villain has tied my hands, and I can't even pursue him. Richardson, if you know what you are about you will not let him escape you this time."
Having succeeded in working off a little of his surplus indignation, the lieutenant seemed, for the first time, to realize that the fire-bell was ringing in his ears, that his little vessel was being slowly consumed before his eyes, and that his men were looking to him for orders. He had stood inactive on his quarter-deck not more than a minute, and during that time the men had been filing up from below, bringing their hammocks, which they stowed away in the nettings with as much care and
precision as though they had just been called up to their morning's duties, instead of midnight fire-quarters. As fast as they disposed of their beds, they sprang to their stations, and presently the first lieutenant saw before him twenty young tars, some at the pumps, others at the fire-buckets, ready to pass the water when the word was given, a couple with axes in their hands, the boatswain's mate holding the nozzle of the hose, and all awaiting his commands. Not a boy moved, and not an eye was turned from the first lieutenant, although the smoke began to rise in greater volume from the hatchway, showing that the fire was making rapid progress. Naval discipline had been strictly carried out, and Harry felt ashamed of himself when he reflected that he was the only one on board who had shown any signs of excitement.
"Fire in the galley!" shouted the lieutenant. "Break down on that pump! Pass up the water! Mr. Jackson, close the main hatch, and every other opening except the door of the galley."
The sailors jumped at the word. The boatswain's mate dived through the smoke with the hose; the buckets began to fly along the lines; the boys at the pump came down manfully; and soon a furious hissing and steaming below told the first lieutenant that the water was pouring into the galley. Harry fumed inwardly because he could not go down and use a bucket with the others. But his place was on deck, where he could see all that was going on, and could be readily found by his officers, in case they had any thing important to report.
"I'm an unlucky fellow," said he, pacing nervously back and forth, and unconsciously making use of Tom Newcombe's favorite expression. "First, I was captured by a crew of pirates, who tried their best to sink me; I came near having my commission revoked because their leader escaped; and now I am set on fire! What could have possessed that fellow to come back here? Where has he been? What has he been doing? Where is he now? What is the prospect, Mr. Jackson?" he added, turning to the second lieutenant, who at that moment came up, all begrimmed with smoke and dirt, and drenched with water.
"It is not very flattering, sir," was the reply. "The wind comes strong down the fore-hatch, and fans the flame."
"Shut the galley, and knock a hole through the door for the hose," said Harry, promptly. "If the fire continues to gain headway, we must cut into the deck to give the buckets a chance. What will become of us if we lose the vessel, Jackson?"
"We're not going to lose her, sir," replied the lieutenant; and Harry was greatly encouraged to hear him speak so confidently. "She will capture Tom Newcombe and his band of freebooters for us yet."
Jackson ran off to obey the orders of his superior, and the first lieutenant stopped the buckets (for, of course they could not be used when the galley door was closed), and waited impatiently for the next report. Up to this time he had been so engrossed with his work, that he could not have told whether he was alone in the harbor or not; but now he was reminded of the fact that there were vessels all around him, and found that the Storm King had suddenly become an object of interest to their crews. A yawl came alongside, and half a dozen men, armed with axes and buckets, sprang over the rail. They were led by an old, gray-headed sea captain, who, the moment he touched the deck, demanded in a voice that could have been heard above the roar of a hurricane: "Who's master of this craft?"
"I am in command, sir," replied the first lieutenant.
"You!" exclaimed the old sailor, looking first at Harry's uniform, and then toward the galley, taking in at one swift glance all the preparations that had been made for putting out the fire. "Well, what have you done, little marline-spike?"
"I've stopped the draft, and am throwing water on the fire as fast as I can."
"If you want any help say the word. I've got a boat's crew here. If you've no objections, I'll just step down and take a squint at things. Perhaps a few suggestions from an old fellow who has had two vessels burned under him in mid-ocean wouldn't come amiss."
"O, no, sir," replied Harry, gratefully. "I shall be glad to listen to your advice. It won't do to let this fire get started in the harbor."
"It would ruin me," replied the captain. "That's my vessel over there, and she is all I have in the world. If I lose her, I shall be high and dry aground."
Harry did not wonder that the old sailor felt uneasy. He was so nervous himself that he could not stand still, and he became appalled when he thought of the possible consequences of Tom Newcombe's attempt to carry out his "splendid idea." He had placed a million dollars' worth of property in jeopardy, and all to satisfy an unreasonable grudge against his father, the students, and the principal of the academy. If the fire he had kindled in the galley of the Storm King should spread to the shipping in front of Mr. Newcombe's elevator, Tom might be revenged in a way he had not thought of. He had promised to raise a breeze in the village, that would lead the people there to believe that they had never known any thing about him, and he had succeeded beyond his most sanguine expectations.
The uneasiness was not confined to the crews of the vessels that were moored about the yacht—it began to spread through the town. Mr. Newcombe's night watchman, who had by this time been discovered and released, had found out that there was something unusual going on, and he was ringing the bell on the elevator, as if his life depended upon his arousing the village in the shortest possible space of time. Then the alarm bells, and the big bell at the academy joined in, the fire engines rattled through the streets, men began to run about the wharves, and in a few minutes all Newport was in commotion. Some thought the town was on fire; but the flames had thus far been confined to the galley of the Storm King, and, thanks to Harry and his crew, they were likely to remain there.
"What do you think of it, sir?" asked the first lieutenant, when the old sailor returned from the galley.
"O, it's all right. I couldn't see much on account of the smoke; but there's no danger now if you keep the draft shut away from it."
Before Harry could reply, another yawl dashed up alongside the yacht, and a second party of sailors clambered over the side, headed by a burly, red-whiskered man, who seemed to be in a terrible rage about something.
"It beats the world what little sense some people have," said he, hurrying up to the old captain, who was standing beside Harry. "The idea of giving a lot of little brats like these full charge of a vessel! I've had my eye on this craft ever since I've been in port. I've said a dozen times that she'd get us into trouble, sooner or later, and now my words are coming true. The whole harbor will be in a blaze in five minutes. Peters," he added, turning to one of his men, "kick those young sea-monkeys out of the way, and put out that fire."
Harry overheard the order, and so did Lieutenant Jackson, who at that moment came up to report that the fire was being rapidly subdued. The former was willing to take advice and to receive assistance, but he was not the one to submit to any domineering, and he regarded the order as a most unwarrantable interference, and, if the red-whiskered sea captain had been of his own age, it is probable that he would have heard something. But the first lieutenant, angry as he was, did not forget the respect due to those older than himself.
"Captain," said he, mildly, "the galley is full of water, and there is no necessity—"
"Shut up!" was the polite rejoinder. "Do you suppose that I am going to leave so dangerous a thing as fire to the management of a lot of little boys? Go down there, Peters."
"Mr. Jackson, you will allow no one to interfere with you," said Harry.
"Very good, sir," replied the lieutenant, who was in excellent fighting humor, like all the rest of the yacht's company. "I'll look for him."
Peters ran down the ladder to execute the orders of his captain. The first man he encountered was the boatswain's mate, who stood in front of the galley holding the nozzle through a hole in the door, and directing the stream of water upon the fire inside.
"Come, now, get out o' this!" roared Peters, trying to push the young tar away from the door.
"Who are you? Get out o' this yourself," replied the boatswain's mate.
Peters, seeing that the boy was not disposed to be driven away from his work, proceeded to carry out his orders to the very letter. His first move was to fasten with both hands into the collar of the mate's jacket and send him sprawling on the deck; his second, to throw open the door that led into the galley. As the apartment had been flooded with water, and the fire nearly drowned out, this did not endanger the little vessel as it would have done a few minutes before, but the mate was none the less angry.
"Well, douse my to'-gallant top-lights," he growled, "Here's a go."
"Wheeler," shouted the second lieutenant, from the deck, "close that door at once."
"No words, now," said Peters, shaking his fist at Jackson, "or you'll go overboard."
"We'll see about that. Stand by here, men!"
The students swarmed around their officer, and Peters began to believe that he had stirred up a hornets' nest. "I was sent down here to put out this fire," said he. "Give me that nozzle."
"I was sent down here for that same purpose," replied the boatswain's mate, "and I won't give up the hose. The fire is out, and now I am going to put you out."
As he spoke he turned the nozzle full in the face of the intruder, an action which caused him to toss up his heels and measure his length on the wet deck. When he recovered his feet he thought no more of the fire, but made the best of his way up the ladder, followed by a stream of water from the hose.
All these things happened in much less time than we have taken to describe them. It was probably not more than ten minutes from the time the first notes of the alarm were struck until the last spark of fire had been extinguished. In five minutes more the deck of the Storm King had been cleared of the sailors, her anchor slipped, and she was standing down the harbor under a full press of canvas.
As Captain Steele's military duties kept him ashore, Harry was virtually the commander of the yacht, and, having authority to act in all emergencies like the present, he was not delayed in his operations by being obliged to ask instructions of his superior. He did just what he knew the captain or the principal would have done, had either of them been there—he started in hot pursuit of the incendiary, and was fully resolved to capture him before he returned.
Every thing seemed to indicate that there were stirring times ahead. Sam Barton, although he had but a small force at his command, was cunning and reckless, and Harry was long-headed, fruitful in expedients, and determined. He was simply working to effect the capture of the young rogue who had tried to destroy his vessel, while the governor and his band were fighting for liberty. The contest promised to be an exciting one.
"I have to report, sir, that the starboard watch is engaged in setting things to rights below, according to orders," said the second lieutenant, stepping up and saluting.
"Very good, sir," replied Harry. Then, dropping the officer, he inquired: "How does she look, Jack?"
"O, don't ask me. It makes me mad to think of it."
"Well," said Harry, taking a good survey of his friend, who was as wet and begrimmed as a boy could be, "if she looks as bad as you do I don't want to see her."
"She does, and worse. Go down and look at her, Harry, and then tell me if you think any punishment too severe for that fellow. But don't this night's work beat you?"
"Beat is no name for it; I am taken all aback. If any one had told me that Tom Newcombe was as reckless as he has shown himself to be, I should have laughed at him. What do you suppose he intends to do? Where is he now?"
"I wish I could tell you. We must hunt him up, and when we have captured him we can find out all we want to know."
The second lieutenant went below to put on dry clothing, and Harry walked forward to take a look at things. He found that ten minutes had made a great change in the appearance of his little vessel. The effects of the fire were visible on deck about the hatchway, and on the ladder that led below. The wood-work of the galley was charred and smoked; the furniture was scattered about over the floor and broken and battered; the stove was overturned; the water stood in little pools all over the floor, and, altogether, it presented so desolate an appearance that the lieutenant was sorry he had come down to look at it.
"She isn't much like the neat little vessel of which I have been so proud," soliloquized Harry, as he returned to the deck. "But I am thankful for one thing, and that is, her sailing qualities are not injured, and we can use them to bring that fellow to justice."
Then, turning to the officer of the deck, he instructed him to put two men on the forecastle with orders to keep a bright lookout for the jolly-boat, and also for a white skiff with a crew of half a dozen boys.
Meanwhile the jolly-boat flew down the harbor, propelled by two good oarsmen. Midshipman Richardson sat bolt upright in the stern sheets, examining each side of the harbor as well as he could through the darkness, and hoping it might be his good fortune to put "just one eye on that Tom Newcombe." He did not stop to consider that it was reported, by the anchor-watch, that Tom was backed up by his old pirate crew, and that, if such was the case, he would have six desperate fellows to contend with. He cared nothing for the difference in numbers. He had but two companions, but he was sure that, having justice on his side, he could overcome all obstacles.
"There's a boat right ahead, sir," said the bow oarsman. "I can hear it."
"So can I," replied Richardson. "Give way, strong. Remember, men, if we come up with Tom Newcombe I shall catch him and hold fast to him, and I want you to stand by to defend me with your cutlasses. Do you understand?"
"Ay, ay, sir!" was the answer.
"Whatever we do must be done quickly," continued the young officer. "We can't hope to capture his whole crew, nor beat them in a fair fight. Tom Newcombe is the man we want, and, if I can once get my hands on him I can hold him, if you will keep the others off. Bear in mind, men, that he set fire to our vessel."
There was no danger that the young tars would forget that, for the strokes of the little bell continued to ring in their ears, and, as they passed along, they could hear the watch on board the vessel talking with each other and making inquiries about the fire. Add to this the fact that they were trembling with anxiety for the safety of the yacht, and filled with apprehension lest Tom's new plan should prove successful, and there was no fear but that his crime would be kept in remembrance.
Richardson went the entire length of the harbor without seeing any signs of the Crusoe band. He could hear the boat just ahead of him, but he could not see it, for it was concealed from him by the darkness; neither could he gain on it an inch, although his crew worked at the oars until the perspiration ran in streams down their faces. At length, however, the jolly-boat reached the end of the pier, and the midshipman suddenly discovered something that filled him with excitement. It was a small schooner, which was slowly moving out into the harbor. At her stern was moored a white skiff.
"There they are," whispered Richardson. "Give way strong."
"Hallo, here!" exclaimed a voice from the deck of the schooner. "Boat ahoy!"
The young officer made no reply. He grasped the tiller-ropes more firmly in his hands, and guided the jolly-boat under the stern of the schooner.
The midshipman's desire to "get just one eye on that Tom Newcombe," was gratified now; for, as the jolly-boat rounded the stern of the schooner, and came alongside, he discovered the captain of the Crusoe band leaning over the rail. "O, now, you had better keep off, if you don't want to get into trouble," he drawled. "All hands stand-by, to repel boarders."
"Way enough!" commanded Richardson. "Board with a loud cheer."
"Down with the 'cademy swells!" cried the governor, rushing frantically to the side, followed by his men. "Pitch 'em overboard as fast as they come up!"
But that was much easier said than done. The boat's crew whipped out their cutlasses, and when the chief saw the bright blades flashing before their eyes, he drew back, and wished for the spears he and his band had used during the attack on the yacht. The Crusoe men all shrank away from the rail, for the actions of the students indicated that they were determined to board the schooner in spite of all opposition, and that they were quite as determined to use their weapons on the first one who came within their reach. A few flourishes of the cutlasses cleared the way for them, and before the governor could think twice, the young tars had gained a footing on the deck.
"Knock them down! Throw them overboard!" exclaimed Tom Newcombe, retreating with all possible haste toward the forecastle, closely followed by the students. "O, now, keep your hands off, Dave Richardson, or I'll get even with you, some day."
The midshipman, not in the least intimidated by the threat, held fast to Tom's collar, which he had seized with a vice-like grasp, and dragged him toward the jolly-boat with one hand, while, in the other, he carried his cutlass, which he kept whistling through the air in a way that made the Crusoe men give room with alacrity. Close at his heels followed the boat's crew, ready to resist any attempt that might be made to rescue their captive. Richardson hurried him across the deck, and the Crusoe men, astonished at the audacity of their assailants, and afraid to trust themselves within reach of the gleaming cutlasses, stood in a group on the forecastle, not knowing what to do. Tom struggled desperately for his freedom, sometimes planting his feet firmly on the deck, and pulling back with all his might; then trying to unclasp the strong fingers that were holding fast to his collar; but finding that his efforts were wholly in vain, he began to call lustily for assistance.
"Help! help!" he cried. "Lend a hand, can't you? Are you five fellows going to stand there and let three spooneys capture me?"
These words aroused the governor, who now, for the first time, seemed to realize the fact that his crew outnumbered that of the enemy, two to one, and that it would be a cowardly piece of business to allow them to make a prisoner of one of his men, before his very eyes, and without a single effort on his part to rescue him. Tom was the most valuable man in the band; and after assisting him through so many dangers, he could not afford to lose him now.
"Handspikes!" yelled the governor. "Down with the 'cademy swells! Knock 'em overboard!"
The Crusoe men rushed forward in a body, two of them armed with handspikes, two more with the oars that belonged to the skiff, and Friday flourishing his favorite weapon, the boat-hook. The midshipman began to get excited and uneasy, but never wavered in his determination to take Tom a prisoner to the Storm King. "Tumble into the boat, men," said he, hurriedly, "and stand by to catch this fellow."
The oarsmen leaped over the rail, without stopping to look before them, and, to their no small amazement, found themselves struggling in the water. In the hurry and excitement of the attack, they had not thought of making the painter of the jolly-boat fast, and she had drifted astern of the schooner, which had all this while been in motion. But an unexpected bath in the harbor was no new thing to them, and they were quite as ready to carry on the fight in the water, as on the deck of the schooner.
"Pitch him over, sir," said Simmonds, holding his cutlass in his teeth, and putting up his hands to receive the prisoner. "We'll catch him."
"O, now, I'd just like to see you do it," drawled Tom, seizing the rail with both hands and holding on with a death grip. "I won't stand no such treatment. Let me alone, Richardson!"
If Tom wanted to see himself thrown overboard, he was certainly accommodated; for the words were scarcely out of his mouth, when he flew through the air, and striking the water head-foremost, went down out of sight; and the midshipman, without waiting to see what had become of him, sprang over the rail, just in time to escape from the boat-hook, with which Friday attempted to catch him by the collar. This movement created a great commotion among the Crusoe men. They were astonished at the recklessness of the students, and feared that they were about to lose Tom after all. Like many others of their class, they had been accustomed to look upon a well-dressed, gentlemanly-appearing youth as an arrant coward. The term "spooney," which the Night-hawks had used to designate a studious, well-behaved boy, meant, with Sam and his crowd, a fellow who had neither strength nor courage; but they had learned that the word, as applied to the students, was not exactly correct. They had discovered that good clothes, strong muscles, and reckless bravery go together sometimes; and that the crew of the jolly-boat, although they were young gentlemen, were antagonists not to be despised. The governor stood for a moment, looking over the rail and watching the fight that was going on in the water—for Tom still kept up a furious resistance—and then called out:
"Xury, go to the wheel an' throw the schooner up into the wind; an' the rest of us man the skiff. Let go Tommy's collar, spooney, or I'll chuck this handspike at you!"
"Help! help!" roared Tom, who was being pulled through the water toward the jolly-boat. "Release me at once, Dave Richardson! Hit him, Sam."
The chief made a desperate effort to strike the young officer, but the latter was just out of reach. Then Sam raised the handspike, and was about to throw it at the midshipman, but lowered it again, when he took a second look, and saw that he was likely to hit one as the other. He hurried off to assist his men who were hauling the skiff alongside, and then began a most exciting contest for the possession of the prisoner. Richardson's object was to escape with him, and the governor's to rescue him. The officer and one of his men held fast to Tom, and Simmonds, who was an excellent swimmer, struck out for the jolly-boat, hoping to return with her and pick up his companions before the Crusoe band could man the skiff. The governor saw and understood the move, and resolved to defeat it. If the students succeeded in getting Tom into their boat, Sam's chances for recovering his man would be very slim indeed. "Hurry, fellers!" he exclaimed, excitedly. "Can't you see what them spooneys are up to? Man the oars, Will Atkins an' Jack Spaniard," he added, as his crew sprang into the skiff, "an' give way fur dear life."
Just as the skiff was shoved off from the schooner, Simmonds climbed into the jolly-boat, and catching up the oars, pulled swiftly to the assistance of his companions. He was nearer to them than the Crusoe men, but Atkins and Jack Spaniard were good oarsmen, and they came out ahead in the race. "Keep away from here, spooney!" exclaimed Friday, shaking his boat-hook at Simmonds, as the skiff dashed up to the struggling captain of the Crusoe band, "'taint safe to come no nearer."
"Now, then," cried the chief, seizing the midshipman by the collar, and plunging his head under the water, "I reckon you'll turn Tommy loose, won't you?"
The students, knowing that it was useless to contend longer against such heavy odds, released their prisoner, and dived out of sight to escape the savage blows which Atkins and Jack Spaniard aimed at them with the oars. Tom was dragged into the skiff by the governor, who ordered the
band back to the schooner; and the midshipman, after being picked up by Simmonds, took his seat in the stern of the jolly-boat, and directed her course up the harbor. He had made a gallant attack upon a superior force of the enemy, and had succeeded in capturing one of them; but he had got the worst of the fight in the end, his prisoner had been rescued, and now the only thing he could do was to report the state of affairs to his superior officer.
"I am sorry that we are obliged to let them go," drawled Tom, as he sprang upon the deck of the schooner, and saw the jolly-boat disappearing in the darkness. "I'd like to have them prisoners long enough to pay them for the ducking they gave me. Friday, drop the skiff astern. Fill away, Xury, and hold for the head of the island. Atkins, are you sailor enough to loose those gaff top-sails?"
"I reckon," was the reply.
"Well, go aloft, then, and do it. Governor, you and Jack Spaniard hoist the flying jib. We have need of all the rags we can spread, now."
In a few minutes every inch of canvas the Sweepstakes carried had been given to the breeze, and the little vessel boomed along over the waves at a terrific rate. The topmasts bent and cracked, the foam rolled away in great masses from under her bows, and now and then a fierce gust of wind would fill the sails, and the schooner would roll down until she seemed on the point of capsizing. Her captain, no longer the coward he was when he accompanied Mr. Graves on the trial trip of the Storm King, stood holding fast to the rail, and looking back toward the harbor. He knew that the fire-bells would soon arouse the town, that the news of the robbery and the destruction of the yacht would spread like wild-fire, and that the pursuit would not be long delayed. He wanted a good start in the race; and he would have spread all the canvas if the wind had been blowing a gale.
"We've got a long voyage to make, you know, skipper," said the chief, "an' we must be careful of our vessel."
"But when we are in danger we must get all that we can out of her," replied Tom. "Hold her to it, Xury, don't luff an inch. If she can't stand this breeze, we've no business to go to sea in her. But I don't discover any signs of the fire yet, do you Sam?"
"No, I don't. Mebbe them swells have put it out."
"O, now, they haven't, either," drawled Tom, who could not be persuaded to believe that his "splendid idea" had failed, after all the trouble and danger he had incurred to make it successful. "They couldn't put it out—there was too much coal-oil in the galley. She must be entirely consumed by this time; but, if I thought she wasn't, I should be tempted to go back and try it again."
"There come them spooneys, cap'n," shouted Xury, from his place at the wheel.
Tom looked toward the village, and could just distinguish the dim outlines of a vessel which was coming out of the harbor, and appeared to be following in the schooner's wake. The thought that it was the Storm King had scarcely passed through his mind, when his mate continued:
"We've wasted a heap of good time in helping you carry out your idea. You had oughter done your work well, while you were at it. That's the sloop you tried to burn."
"O, now, you don't know what you are talking about," drawled Tom.
"I reckon I do. I can tell the Storm King as fur as I can see her. Friday, bust open the door of the cabin, an' bring up the 'squire's spy-glass."
Friday went forward after a handspike, and Tom leaned his elbows on the rail and watched the approaching vessel. The thought that this last grand idea of his would share the fate of all his splendid schemes, had never once entered his head. He had been certain that it would prove successful—he did not see how it could be otherwise; but now he was convinced that it had failed, for he had examined the yacht so often and so closely, that he knew the exact shape of every sail and rope on her, and it did not require the aid of the 'squire's spy-glass to satisfy him that the vessel following in his wake was the one he had tried to destroy. He knew it was the Storm King. No other sloop of that size about the village could sail so swiftly, or ride the waves so gracefully. Even while he leaned over the rail, so filled with rage and
disappointment that he could scarcely breathe, he could not help saying to himself, as he had done a hundred times before, that she was the prettiest object in the shape of a vessel that he had ever seen. And now to think that he must go away from Newport, and leave her in the hands of his rival! He would never have another opportunity to try any of his splendid ideas on her; and while he was wandering about the world, a fugitive from justice, Harry Green would remain in the village, surrounded with friends, beloved and respected by all who knew him, and, worse than all, first lieutenant of the Storm King. It was some time before the captain of the Crusoe band could realize all this; but when he did, he was so nearly beside himself that he would not have cared a grain if the schooner had foundered at that moment, carrying all hands, himself included, to the bottom.
"O, now, did any body in this world ever see or hear of so unlucky a boy as I am?" yelled Tom, stamping his foot on the deck, and fairly trembling with anger. "I never can do any thing like other fellows, for something is forever happening to bother me. Another of my grand ideas has ended in smoke! The yacht is above water yet. I wish she would capsize. Go away with your spy-glass, Friday. What do I want with a spy-glass, when I know it is the Storm King?"
"What did I tell you, cap'n?" said Xury.
"O, now, I want you to hush up!" shouted Tom, placing his hands on the rail, and jumping up and down as if he were about to precipitate himself into the waves. "Don't speak to me; don't any body dare speak to me. I am a desperate man; and if you don't look out, I'll—I'll—I've the greatest notion in the world to jump overboard."
"There's the yawl, an' I can see them two bugglars standin' by it," said Atkins.
He addressed himself to the governor, not deeming it safe to speak to Tom, who showed an alarming disposition to break things. He had caught up a handspike, and was swinging it around his head, glaring fiercely at
his companions as if he had half a mind to strike one of them; but, thinking better of it, he turned and brought the handspike down upon the rail with such force that the little vessel fairly trembled under the blow. The governor stood off at a safe distance and looked at him, hoping that his rage would soon subside, and that he would give his attention to his duties. But Tom continued to beat the rail with the handspike, now and then stopping to look at the yacht, which seemed to be rapidly falling behind. "Be you gone clean crazy?" Sam ventured to ask, at length.
"No, I haven't!" shouted Tom. "I wish I had about twenty good men; I would board that yacht and make sure work of her. I'd cut a hole through her bottom, and I'd stay by her and watch her until she had sunk completely out of sight. Then I'd like to see Harry Green get her again."
"We've got to stop here fur the yawl an' them bugglars," suggested the chief.
"Well, get a crew ready to man the skiff," said Tom, throwing down the handspike after hitting the rail one more blow harder than all the rest. "You will take charge of the skiff, governor, and tow the yawl out to us. We'll make her fast alongside, and take the outfit aboard as we go along. Tell those robbers that if they want to sail with us, they can get into the skiff. Be in a hurry, now, for we haven't a single instant to lose."
When the skiff had been hauled alongside, the schooner was thrown up into the wind, and Sam and two of his men pulled for the island. Although they used all possible haste, a good deal of precious time was consumed in towing out the yawl; and when she had been brought alongside, and the Sweepstakes was ready to fill away again, the Storm King was half way across the bay. During this time the schooner had made considerable lee-way, having drifted past the head of the island. This was something Tom had not calculated upon; and, so busy was he in brooding over his disappointment, that he did not notice it, until it was too late to prevent it. It had been his intention to run down the north shore, where he could get the full benefit of the breeze; but he was afraid to attempt it now, for the yacht was rapidly approaching, and, if he rounded the head of the island again, he would, of course, be obliged to sail directly toward her. This was something he did not like to do, for he was already as close to the sloop and her angry crew as he cared to be. The only course left him was to follow the south shore, which he did; and in a few minutes he had left the yacht out of sight behind the island.
"Let that skiff go adrift," commanded the skipper, as soon as the schooner was fairly under-way. "We can't afford to have any dead weights dragging after us now. Governor, turn to with the rest of the hands and pass up the outfit. As we are in something of a hurry," he added, turning to the robbers, "perhaps you gentlemen will lend us a hand."
The "gentlemen" declared themselves willing to do any thing; and, with their assistance, the outfit was soon taken on board, and stowed away in the cabin; after which the yawl was also turned adrift, and the Sweepstakes, with nothing to retard her progress, bounded merrily on her way.
"Hurrah for us, skipper!" cried the governor, joyfully, "we're off now. After three months hard work, we've got fairly started for our island. Who cares for them spooneys in the yacht? We've got a swift vessel, an' we can show 'em a pretty pair of heels."
The chief was as gay and jubilant as Tom was vexed and disappointed.
The governor was now as certain that he would see Crusoe's island as he was that he was at that moment standing on the deck of the Sweepstakes. What was there to prevent it? The worst obstacles in his way, the only ones, in fact, of which he had stood in fear, had been overcome. The schooner had been captured, the provisions secured, he had assisted Tom in his mad scheme for destroying the yacht, and made good his retreat, and now he was fairly out of the harbor with a swift vessel under his feet, propelled by a strong and favorable breeze, his pursuers a mile behind, and losing ground every moment. The prospect was certainly encouraging.
The chief had told Tom that the Sweepstakes could show the yacht a pretty pair of heels, and no doubt, in a fair trial of speed, she would have done so, for she was a much larger vessel than the sloop, and carried nearly twice as much canvas. But the governor forgot that the race is not always to the swift, and that the yacht had a decided advantage in being handled by a captain who understood his business. Harry Green was an excellent sailor for a boy of his age, and he was backed up by a crew who had been his competitors at the examination, and consequently they were almost as well posted as he was, and quite competent to offer advice if he needed it, while Tom had no one to consult, his men being as ignorant as himself. The first lieutenant knew what the Sweepstakes could do in the way of sailing, and he was well aware of the fact that if he expected to capture the governor and his crew he must depend more upon strategy than upon the speed of his vessel.
By the time the fight between the midshipman and the Crusoe men was ended, the Storm King had been got under way and was standing down the harbor. The first lieutenant, having just come out of the galley, was thoughtfully pacing his quarter-deck, where he was presently joined by Jackson, who looked none the worse for his battle with the fire. Of course the exciting events of the night came up for discussion. The young officers expressed unbounded astonishment at Tom's audacity, and tried in vain to determine what new idea he had got into his head. They were completely in the dark, and there they remained until they picked up the jolly-boat and her crew, and midshipman Richardson, drenched in body and exceedingly uncomfortable in mind, came aft to report the failure of his attempt to capture the incendiary. He told his story in a few words, adding a piece of information that increased Harry's astonishment, and made him believe, with Johnny Harding, that wonders would never cease.
"I saw Mr. Newcombe's night watchman on the wharf as I was coming back, sir," said Richardson, "and from him I learned that Mr. Henry's safe has been blown open and robbed of seven thousand dollars. It was done by two strangers—professional burglars undoubtedly—and they were afterward joined by Sam Barton and his band of rascals, who carried off a quantity of provisions."
"Where was the watchman, that he did not give the alarm?" asked Harry.
"The robbers knocked him down, and bound and gagged him, before they went into the store," replied the midshipman. "They also made a prisoner of Johnny Harding, one of them holding a revolver to his head while the other tied him. But the funny part of the story is, that the governor is to receive a thousand dollars for taking the robbers to sea. Sam and Tom still have Crusoe's island on the brain, according to my way of thinking, and are starting off to hunt it up."
The first lieutenant was now satisfied of this fact himself. He dismissed the midshipman after listening to his story, and turned to consult with Jackson. "I wish that Tom had taken some other vessel," said he, after they had talked the matter over, "the Sweepstakes runs like lightning, and if she was in charge of a sailor, I should never expect to see her. My only hope is that Newcombe will commit some blunder. If he does, we've got him. He can't escape, for all the tugs in the harbor will be after him as soon as they can raise steam; but I wish it might be our good fortune to capture him, alone and unaided. If we catch the whole band we'll recover the money, you know. Instruct the officer of the deck to have a bright lookout kept for the Sweepstakes."
Scarcely had this order been issued, when one of the lookouts, who had learned the particulars of the fight from the boat's crew, came aft to report that a schooner, which looked very much like the Sweepstakes, was standing across the bay toward the head of the island. The officer of the deck went forward to examine the vessel through his glass, and came back to Harry with the information that the pirate was in plain sight.
During the next quarter of an hour the first lieutenant stood on the forecastle, watching the movements of the schooner, and turning over in his mind various plans for her capture. When he saw her stop to pick up the yawl and the burglars, he called his crew to quarters, and made every preparation for boarding her. "If Tom knows any thing," said he to Jackson, "he will come back and go down on this side of the island; and if he tries that, we may be able to cut him off."
"But he's not going to try it, sir," said the second lieutenant, who was watching the schooner through his glass. "He is standing down the other side."
"Is he?" exclaimed Harry, eagerly; "so much the better. I was sure he could not take that vessel far, without making some mistake. We will go down on this side of the island and meet him. We shall reach the foot before he does, for he will have to go a long distance out of his way to avoid the shoals. If we can only catch him in the narrows, between the foot of the island and the main shore, he is our prize. We'll board him, and have a regular hand-to-hand fight with him."
Harry, highly elated at the prospect of a conflict with the pirates, held on his course until the schooner was out of sight behind the trees on the island, and then put the Storm King before the wind, and stood down for the narrows. The crew all understood the meaning of this maneuver, and, although nothing was said to indicate the fact, Harry knew that they were intensely excited. He was quite as badly off as the rest in this respect, and it required the exercise of all his self-control to maintain his dignity. The first lieutenant thought the island must have grown immensely since he last sailed around it. The mile that lay between him and the narrows seemed to have lengthened into five. The yacht appeared to him to be on her bad behavior also, but that was only Harry's imagination, for she was doing splendidly, although she did not move more than half fast enough to suit her eager and impatient crew. The minutes flew by, and at last the Storm King rounded the foot of the island. A half a dozen glasses were instantly brought into requisition, and to the immense relief of the crew, nothing could be seen of the schooner. The yacht flew along the edge of the shoals, and in ten minutes more entered the narrows and shaped her course toward the head of the island.
"Now, here's the place," said the first lieutenant. "If we meet him coming down we'll run up and board him before he can round to. Where is he, I wonder?"
The students were all on the watch, every eye being turned in the direction from which the pirate was expected to appear, and Harry nearly jumped from the deck when one of the crew sang out:
"Sail, ho! straight ahead, and coming down like the wind."
"It's the schooner!" exclaimed the lieutenant, in an excited voice.
"I believe it is," replied Harry, springing upon the rail to obtain a better view of the approaching craft. "Now I know it is. Station a man at the rattle, Mr. Jackson, and see that the crew are all in their places. I've got you now, Tom Newcombe!"
"Are you going to run him aboard, sir?"
"I am, indeed, if I get the chance."
"Humph! He seems to forget that there are two desperate villains on board that vessel, and that they are armed with revolvers," muttered the second lieutenant, under his breath. "We'll have a chance now to see how it feels to face loaded weapons."
Jackson thought his superior was becoming very reckless, but that did not prevent him from hurrying off to execute his commands. He sent another man to the wheel; stationed a midshipman in the waist to pass the first lieutenant's orders; placed one of the crew at the rattle; and collected the boarders in a group on the forecastle. Harry, from his perch on the rail, watched all that was going on, and, having seen the crew stationed to his satisfaction, he turned to look at the schooner. He found that if he had got Tom Newcombe, he was likely to lose him
again, for the latter had kept his eyes open, and the moment he discovered the yacht he put his vessel about, and prepared to show Harry her heels. The maneuver was so clumsily executed, however, that the Storm King approached very near to her before she could fill away on her course again—so near that her bow was abreast of the schooner's waist, and only about ten feet from her. Every thing had worked as Harry thought it would if he met the pirate there, and he was sure of his prize.
"Hard a port," he shouted, so excited that he scarcely knew what he was about. "Stand by, Mr. Jackson."
"O, now, you had better mind what you are doing over there, Harry Green!" cried Tom, from the deck of the schooner. "You'll get the worst of it if you run foul of us."
"We're after you pirates," replied Harry, "and we're bound to have you. You had better surrender at once."
"Surrender!" repeated the governor, "not much we won't. We aint them kind of fellers. We're goin' to fight as long as a plank of this yere vessel stays above water. Mind that, spooneys."
The actions of the pirate crew fully confirmed the words of their chief. They rushed to the starboard side of the deck, flourishing handspikes, oars, and boat-hooks, evidently determined to make a desperate struggle for their liberties, and among them Harry could see the two burglars, one of whom was holding fast to the valise that contained Mr. Henry's money. The young tars saw the war-like preparations, and they saw the robbers, too, and knew that they were more to be feared than all the Crusoe band. It was no boy's play to face revolvers in the hands of such characters, but not one of the crew would have hesitated an instant, had the order been given to board the schooner. They saw Tom Newcombe there, and they could not forget that he had tried to burn the Storm King. They crouched behind the rail like so many tigers, ready for a spring, grasping their cutlasses, pikes, and muskets, and waiting for Harry to lay the yacht alongside the pirate, when they would leap over the rail and capture every one of their enemies, or drive them into the bay.
"Port it is, sir," said the quartermaster, in response to Harry's order.
The yacht and the schooner were rushing through the water, side by side, like a couple of race horses on the home stretch, the pirate being about half a length ahead; but, when Harry's order was obeyed, the Storm King fell off and swung toward the schooner, and the first lieutenant expected every instant to see the two vessels come in contact. So certain was he that such would be the case, that he held fast to the shrouds, to avoid being knocked overboard by the shock, and had even opened his lips to shout: "Boarders away!" when the Sweepstakes drew rapidly ahead and bounded on her course, leaving the yacht still swinging around as if she were about to start down the narrows again. A murmur of disappointment and indignation arose from the young tars on the forecastle, who looked first at their officer, and then at the rapidly receding schooner, as if they did not quite understand how she had escaped. Harry felt a good deal as did Tom Newcombe when he discovered the yacht coming out of the harbor, but he did not act as foolishly, by any means. He told the second lieutenant to come about and pursue the schooner, and then sprang down from the rail, saying:
"Did you ever see such luck? Did I make any mistake, Jackson?"
"No, indeed. You handled the yacht all right, but see, the pirate has longer legs than we have. Isn't she a trotter? She can run away from us, and not half try."
"I believe she can," replied the first lieutenant, who felt considerably crest-fallen over his defeat, and did not care to say much. "We will keep as close as possible to Tom, and be ready to take advantage of his next mistake. He'll be sure to make one presently."
Harry stood on his quarter-deck watching the pirate, and not more than ten minutes elapsed before he began to think that he knew what he was talking about when he predicted that her skipper would soon commit another blunder. Both vessels had by this time passed the shoals—the Sweepstakes being so far ahead that Harry could but just make her out through the darkness; but, instead of holding up the harbor and keeping far enough away from the bluffs to feel the full force of the wind, Tom rounded the shoals, and shaped the schooner's course toward the island. The first lieutenant was quite as much astonished as delighted at this apparent want of foresight on the part of the pirate captain, but he made no remark. He held on his way until the schooner was out of sight in the darkness, and then he tacked and ran toward the island.
"What do you think, Jackson," asked Harry, whose spirits were now as exalted as they had before been depressed; "hasn't he run into a nice trap? We've got him this time."
"Yes, he's caught easy enough now. He has no chance for escape that I can see. The shoals are on one side of him, and we all know that he can't cross them; the island is in front of him, and I am quite sure he can't get over that; we are behind him, and if he tries to come out we can cut him off. He's caught, sir."
Harry was certain of it. He ordered the crew to their stations once more, and went forward with his glass to watch for the schooner. The Storm King was headed toward the point where the shoals joined the island, and the first lieutenant was sure that when Tom became alarmed, and tried to run out, he could not pass by on either side without being discovered and cut off. He could not imagine what made him go in there. If he was trying to dodge the yacht, he was certainly going about it in a very awkward manner. A few minutes more passed, and Harry began to wonder why he did not see the schooner. She could not go much farther in that direction without being dashed upon the shoals, and Tom must soon round to and come out, if he wished to save his vessel. The roar of the breakers grew louder and louder as the yacht approached them, and
the waves dashed and foamed over the ledge, just as they had done when the Crusoe men braved their fury two hours before. They were now getting quite as close to them as some of the students cared to go. Even Jackson became a little uneasy, and, although like all the rest of the crew, he kept a bright lookout for the Sweepstakes, he now and then glanced anxiously toward the first lieutenant, who, perched upon the rail, was turning his glass in every direction, fully conscious of their dangerous proximity to the breakers, but more interested, just then, in the fate of the schooner than in any thing else.
"Look here, Mr. Jackson," he exclaimed suddenly, "Tom had better come out of that. He'll be cast away as sure as he is a foot high."
The second lieutenant thought it very probable that the Storm King would be cast away also, if her commander did not mind what he was about; but, like a good officer, he said nothing. He knew that Harry was a better sailor than he was—he must have been, or he would not have held a higher rank; that he was quite as deeply in love with the yacht as any of the crew, and that he would not willingly run her into any danger from which he could not extricate her. But still the breakers roared loudly and looked dangerous, and the second lieutenant wished the vessel well away from them.
"What do you suppose Tom Newcombe is trying to do?" continued Harry, excitedly. "No boy with his senses about him would take a vessel like the Sweepstakes in there. Anyhow, we have the satisfaction of knowing that if he isn't wrecked he can't get away from us. He is penned up, cornered, caught. What shall we do with him when we capture him? Throw him overboard?"
The yacht was still bounding toward the shoals with all the speed that stiff breeze could give her, and just as Harry ceased speaking, the bluffs on the island loomed up through the darkness. The shore for two hundred yards was plainly visible, and anxious eyes examined it closely, but nothing could be seen of the schooner. The students were utterly bewildered. They looked at one another, then along the shore again, but not a sign of a sail could they discover. The pirate schooner had disappeared as completely as though she had never been in the harbor at all.
"Come about, Mr. Jackson," said Harry, as calmly as though the long line of foaming, hissing breakers before him had been a mile away, instead of almost under the vessel's bows. His mind was so fully engrossed with the mysterious disappearance of the schooner, that he could think of nothing else. Where could she have gone? was a question he asked himself more than once while the Storm King was coming about. She could not have slipped by him, dark as it was, for there had been too many pairs of sharp eyes looking out for that. She could not have gone over the island, and she might as well have tried that as to attempt the passage of the shoals. She certainly had not been dashed in pieces on the rocks, for, in that case, he would have heard the noise of the collision and the cries of the crew, and, besides, he would have seen the wreck. Harry did not know what to make of it.
"Wheeler," said he, turning to the boatswain's mate, who happened to be standing near him, "what do you think of this?"
"Well, sir," replied the young tar, touching his cap and hitching up his trowsers, "I was just wondering if itwasa schooner at all. She may be a small edition of the Flying Dutchman, sir."
If Harry had been superstitious he would have thought so too. The schooner's disappearance was so mysterious, so sudden, so unexpected! Just at the moment when the crew of the Storm King were waiting for the order to board her, she had vanished, and no one could tell where she had gone. The first lieutenant knew many an old sailor who, had he been on board the yacht at that moment, would have solemnly affirmed that they had been pursuing a phantom.
"Yes, sir," repeated the governor of the Crusoe band, in a tone of great satisfaction, "we're off fur our island at last. Them spooneys will never trouble you any more, cap'n. You're safe from Johnny Harding, an' I'm safe from Mr. Grimes, Bobby Jennings, an' all the rest of 'em. Hurrah fur us!"
Tom stood leaning over the schooner's rail, watching the Storm King, which was rapidly fading from his view, and thinking, not of Johnny Harding, but of the failure of his grand idea. He would not have been greatly disappointed if he had known that he should never see Crusoe's island. He had, of course, expected that when he should be comfortably settled in some remote corner of the world, far away from all the troubles and vexations that had made his life in Newport so miserable, he would realize his idea of supreme felicity; but one element in his happiness was to be the satisfaction of knowing that he had carried out his threat, and "squared yards" with every body; that he had destroyed the Storm King; that he had rendered the naval commission, in which Harry Green took so much pride and delight, perfectly useless to him, and that he had taken ample revenge upon his father and upon the principal of the military academy. With such thoughts as these to console him, Tom imagined that he would be perfectly content to pass the remainder of his days on some desert island, even in the company of such uncongenial fellows as Sam Barton and his men; but now he knew that could not be. His splendid scheme had failed. The yacht was still right side up, as swift and as handsome as ever, and as sound as a dollar, in spite of the charred and smoked wood-work in her galley. That was enough to banish all Tom's hopes of happiness. He could not enjoy a moment's peace of mind as long as the Storm King remained above water. He was a disappointed boy—an unlucky, ill-used, and unappreciated boy, too—whose life must henceforth be a desert and a blank. No more sport, no more enjoyment for him, and all because of that one unkind act of his father's.
This was the way the captain of the Crusoe band reasoned with himself as he leaned over the rail, gazing through the darkness toward the spot where he had last seen the yacht, and that was the way he would have told his story to any stranger who he thought would sympathize with him; but if such sensible fellows as Johnny Harding, Harry Green, and Bill Steele had been consulted, they would have shown Tom up in a different kind of light altogether. They would have cleared Mr. Newcombe, and placed all the blame right where it belonged—upon Tom's own shoulders. They would have described the home and surroundings of this "Boy of Bad Habits"—this "Rolling Stone"—who had gone from one thing to another in search of that which none of us find in this world—freedom from care and trouble—and would have proved that he ought to have been one of the happiest boys in Newport. They would have told that his sole object in life had been to avoid every thing that looked like work, and to establish himself in some easy, pleasant business, that would run along smoothly, without the least exertion on his part. They would have described him as a boy utterly wanting in firmness of purpose, except when he got one of his grand ideas into his head, and then he was as unreasonable and obstinate as a mule. They would have said that his numerous failures had not taught him wisdom, but had made him more determined; that he would not listen to any one's advice, and that he clung with bull-dog tenacity to his favorite belief that "nobody could teach him." And they would have come, at last, to the inevitable consequences of such a life as Tom had been leading, and told how he had been going down hill all this while, until he had at last got so low that no boy who had the least respect for himself could associate with him; that he was the leader of a band of rascals, the companion of burglars, a fugitive from justice, and one of the most miserable and despised of human beings. Tom could not help acknowledging to himself that such was his condition, but he clung to the idea that it was not his fault. His father was responsible for it all.
"If he had only given me that yacht, as he ought to have done," Tom had said to himself twenty times that night, "things would have been very different. I could have paid him back his four hundred dollars in a week or two, and after that every cent I earned would have been clear profit. But now—just look at me! I won't stand no such treatment from any body, and that's all about it."
"What's the row now, cap'n?" asked the governor.
"O, I was thinking about that yacht," drawled Tom.
"And, talkin' about her, too," returned Sam; "I heard what you said. This is a hard world, Tommy, that's a fact. The lucky ones go up, an' the onlucky ones go down. Life's nothing but luck, nohow."
"Well, if that's the case," whined Tom, "what is the use of a fellow's exerting himself at all? If it is his lot to go ahead in the world, he will, and if it isn't, he won't, and all the working and planning he can do will not better his condition in the least."
"Exactly! Sartinly! That's just my way of thinkin' to a dot; an' every thing goes to prove that I am right. Now, me an' you were born to be poor—to go down hill; an' your father was born to be rich—to go up hill. Haven't you tried hard to be somebody?"
"O, now, yes I have!"
"I know it. I never in my life saw a feller that tried harder, an' what's the reason you didn't succeed? 'Cause you are onlucky. It aint your lot to go up hill. You might work an' scheme, an' try your level best, till you are as old as your grandfather, but it wouldn't do you no arthly good, whatsomever. Now, just look at your father! He's one of the lucky ones. Every thing he touches turns to money to onct. He needn't do no work if he don't want to. He can set back on his easy chair an' read his paper, an' the cash comes pourin' in so fast that he has to hire a man to take care of it. Now, I ask, Why is it? It's his lot; that's the reason, an' he aint no better'n I be, neither. Things aint fixed right, nohow, 'cordin' to my way of thinkin'."
Tom was not overburdened with common sense, but he was not foolish enough to believe in Sam Barton's doctrine. He knew that it is the industrious, prudent, and persevering who go up hill, and the lazy and worthless who go down. He knew that his father had made many a long voyage as a common sailor, and a good many more as captain, and worked hard for years with hand and brain before he could "set back in his easy chair" and read his newspaper during business hours. But he was quite ready to agree with the governor when he said that "things were not fixed right" in this world. Tom was quite sure they were fixed wrong. He had tried so hard, and had been so certain of success! If his plans had not all failed so miserably, he would have been a happy and prosperous trader, and the owner of the finest little sloop about the village, instead of a captain in the Crusoe band. He could not see that he had made any mistakes in refusing to listen to the advice so often given him. The blame rested entirely with his father.
Tom was a very unhappy boy, and the only consolation he could find was in the thought that, by this nights work, he was severely punishing his father. Mr. Newcombe would, of course, hear all the particulars of the robbery, and of the attempted destruction of the yacht, and then he would regret that he had not paid more attention to his son's wishes. But it would be too late. The ill-used one would be miles at sea before morning, and he would never again return to Newport as long as he lived. Tom told himself that he was resolved upon that; but, after all, he did go back, and perhaps we shall see how he looked when he got there.
All this while the schooner had been bounding along the south shore of the island, headed toward the narrows. Xury was still at the wheel, Tom and the governor were standing at the head of the companion-ladder, the rest of the Crusoe men were gathered on the forecastle, and the robbers were leaning over the rail in the waist, looking down into the water, and conversing in low tones. The governor had been so busy since they came on board the schooner that he had scarcely spoken to them, but now he left Tom (who had again fallen into one of his meditative moods) to scrape an acquaintance with them. The burglars were so deeply engrossed in discussing their affairs that they did not hear the sound of Sam's footsteps, and he approached within a few feet of them without being discovered. So close was he to them, indeed, that he could catch every word of their conversation. He had not thought of playing the part of eaves-dropper, but he found that they were talking about the thousand dollars they had promised to pay the Crusoe men for taking them to sea, and something that was said brought Sam to a stand-still.
"You were not in earnest when you made that offer, were you?" he heard one of the robbers ask.
"Yes, I was. I thought there were some men in the party, and that we could afford to pay them well for passage on board their vessel; but I see they are all boys, and we can give them the money or not, just as we please."
"It would be a foolish piece of business to throw away a thousand dollars, after coming so far, and working so hard for it."
"I know that, and I don't intend to do it. They seem to understand managing a vessel pretty well, and they may succeed in taking us to a place of safety. If they do, we'll step ashore and let them whistle for their money."
"But won't they make a fuss?"
"Who cares if they do? Haven't we both got revolvers?"
"Well, now, if this yere don't beat all the world," soliloquized the governor, who could scarcely believe that he had heard aright. He stood for a moment as motionless as if he had been nailed to the deck, looking the very picture of astonishment and alarm; then he shook his head threateningly, moved quietly across to the other side, and settled into a comfortable position, to think the matter over.
Since the robbers made him that offer, the thousand dollars had never once been out of his mind. In his eyes it was an immense fortune, and he would have been willing to do almost any thing in his power to obtain possession of it. He already regarded the money as his own, and he had laid his plans for the disposal of it. He would not trust it in the hands of the treasurer of the band, but would take charge of it himself. He would invest a portion of it in weapons, fishing-tackle, clothing, powder, shot, and other articles they needed to complete their outfit, and with the remainder he would purchase provisions. He had never dreamed that the burglars would refuse to live up to their promise, but he had heard enough of their conversation to satisfy him that they would bear watching. Sam thought they were the meanest men he had ever heard of.
"I won't give up the money," said the governor, striking his fist upon the rail to give emphasis to his words; "that's just all about it. They promised to give it to me if I would take them out to sea, and they sha'n't go off this vessel till I have it in my hands. If they won't stick to their bargain, like men had oughter do, I must find some way to make 'em. Step this way a minute, skipper. What do you think them two bugglars are doin'?" he added, in a scarcely audible whisper, glancing toward his passengers, who were still leaning over the rail. "They're layin' their plans to swindle us out of our money!"
"No!" exclaimed Tom, who had also built his hopes high upon that thousand dollars, and could not bear the thought of losing it.
"It's a fact. I heard them talkin' about it."
"O, now, did any body ever hear of such luck?" drawled the captain, stamping his foot impatiently upon the deck, and twisting his mouth on one side as if he had half a mind to cry. "I don't see how I can stand another disappointment to-night. That money would have bought so many things we really need! What did they say, Sam?"
The governor repeated the conversation he had overheard as nearly as he could recall it, and when he had finished his story Tom thrust his hands into his pockets and thoughtfully paced the deck. Sam watched him closely, and when he saw the captain's face brighten up, and the scowl disappear from his forehead, his hopes rose again. "What is it, skipper?" he asked.
"I've got another idea," replied Tom, excitedly. "We want that money, don't we?"
"Of course we do, an' we're bound to have it, if we can get it. There ain't a single dollar in the treasury. I'd like to punish them fellers, too, fur bein' so mean as to think of cheatin' us."
"Well, we can do it," said Tom, mysteriously. "Sam," and here he approached the governor, and placed his lips close to his ear—"I can't see the use of being satisfied with a thousand dollars when we can just as well have more."
"More!" echoed the governor; "more'n a thousand dollars?"
"Don't talk so loud. We've got just as much right to the money in the valise as those robbers have; don't you think so?"
"I reckon I do. It don't belong to nary one of us."
"Well, let's take it."
"What! All of it—the whole five thousand dollars?"
"Yes, every cent of it."
The governor staggered back against the rail and looked at Tom without speaking. He had, by this time, become well acquainted with the captain, and when the latter declared that he had another idea, Sam was prepared to listen to something desperate, such as arming the band with the empty shot-guns, and demanding the passage money at their muzzles; but he had not dreamed that Tom would think seriously of attempting to deprive the burglars of their ill-gotten gains.
"If you want to punish them," continued the skipper, "I don't know any better way."
"Nor me, neither," returned Sam. "But how can we do it? that's the question. We're only boys, an' they're men an' carry revolvers. I wish we had a few loads fur our guns."
"Just leave this thing to me, governor," replied Tom. "I can think it over in half an hour, and then I'll let you know what I have decided to do. You had better tell the other fellows what has been going on, and ask them what they think of it."
As Tom said this he once more buried his hands in his pockets and began pacing the deck, and Sam ran off to repeat to the rest of the band the conversation he had overheard between the burglars, and to tell them what he and the captain had determined upon. The Crusoe men listened attentively, and it is hard to tell whether they were the more indignant at their passengers, or amazed at the audacity of their skipper. They spoke of the revolvers, and declared that, rather than face them, they would give up the thousand dollars.
"O, we aint goin' to fight the bugglars," said Sam, quickly. "Tommy an' me aint so foolish as to believe that six boys are a match fur two men with loaded pistols in their pockets. We're goin' to fool 'em, somehow. We'll either get the revolvers away from 'em, or study up a plan to get hold of the valise, without puttin' ourselves in the way of the shootin' irons. The matter is in the cap'n's hands, an' he is thinkin' it over now. We'll larn them fellers a thing or two before we are done with 'em."
The governor left his men to talk the matter over at their leisure, and walked toward the robbers, who had brought their consultation to a close, and seemed to be awaiting an opportunity to speak to him. "Look here, boy," said one of them, as Sam came up, "who are you, and where are you going?"