The boys reached the ranch the next morning, and Mr. Oliver, who followed by a different route a couple of days later, seemed satisfied with the result of his journey.
"If the dope men leave us alone for the next three weeks we're not likely to be troubled with them afterward," he said. "Barclay expects very shortly to be ready for what he calls his coup."
"I suppose he didn't mention exactly when he would bring it off?" Harry remarked.
"No," said Mr. Oliver with a laugh. "Barclay usually waits until he's certain before he moves, and he's not addicted to spoiling things by haste. In the meanwhile you may as well keep your eyes sharply open."
"Won't it be awkward to communicate with him if you have to go to Bannington's every time you mail a letter?" Frank asked.
"That's a point which naturally occurred to me," Mr. Oliver answered. "There are, however, reasons for believing that Barclay will be able to get over the difficulty."
He said nothing further on the subject, but it cropped up again one evening when Mr. Webster arrived at the ranch in time for supper. He told them that he had finished the bridge he had gone away to build, and when they sat about the stove after the meal was over he turned to Mr. Oliver.
"Have you heard that Porteous has been fired outof the store and they've got a man down from Tacoma?" he asked.
"No," replied Mr. Oliver indifferently.
"Anyway, you don't seem much astonished."
Mr. Oliver smiled at this. "I can't say I am. What was the trouble?"
"It's generally believed Porteous was tampering with the mails, and that brings up another thing I want to mention. I'm puzzled about it as well as pleased."
Harry, unobserved by Mr. Webster, grinned at Frank, looking solemn again as his father caught his eye.
"Well?" said the latter politely.
"It's just this," said Mr. Webster. "When I came through the settlement this morning the man who fills Porteous's place gave me a letter. It requested me to send in a formal application if I was open to have my place made a postoffice and carry the mails for this and the Carthew district. They don't pay one very much, but it only means a journey once a week."
"Then what are you puzzled at?"
"Well," said Mr. Webster, his eyes bent thoughtfully on the fire, "you and the Carthew folks tried to have a mail carrier appointed some time ago, and you heard that the authorities were considering your representations. I guess that's about all they did. They're great on considering, and as a rule they don't get much further. It strikes me as curious that they should give you the postoffice now, considering that they wouldn't do it when you worried them for it. The next point is that although I applied the other time I don't know anybody in office or any political boss who would speak for me."
Frank noticed the smile broaden on Harry's face, but Mr. Webster was intently watching Mr. Oliver, who answered carelessly.
"It's a poor job, one that only a local man could undertake, and I don't know any one else who wants it," he said. "What are you going to do about it?"
"Send in the application right away. That's partly what brought me over. I'll have to get you and two of the boys at Carthew to vouch for me."
"There'll be no trouble about that," Mr. Oliver assured him, after which they changed the conversation. Before Mr. Webster went away he asked the boys to spend a day or two with him and do some hunting.
Mr. Oliver let them go at the end of the week, but he said that they had better meet Mr. Webster at the settlement where Miss Oliver wanted them to leave an order for some groceries, and that if any letters had arrived for him one of them must bring them across to the ranch. They reached the settlement Saturday evening, soon after the weekly mail had come in. When they had finished their supper at the store Mr. Webster bundled his mails promiscuously into a flour bag, which he fastened upon his shoulders with a couple of straps.
"There seems to be quite a lot of letters," remarked Harry as he lifted up the bag.
Mr. Webster frowned. "Letters!" he growled. "Most of the blamed stuff's groceries. It strikes me I'm going to earn my dollars. The boys who run short of sugar or yeast powder or any truck of that kind expect me to pack it out. Give the thing a heave up. There's the corner of a meat can working into my ribs."
They set out shortly afterward, following a very bad trail driven like a tunnel through the bush, and when they had gone a mile or two Mr. Webster lighted a lantern which he gave to Frank.
"Hold it up and look about," he said. "It's somewhere round here Jardine has his letter box nailed up on a tree."
Frank presently discovered an empty powder keg fixed to a big fir, and Mr. Webster, wriggling out of the straps, dropped the bag with a thud. As it happened, it descended in a patch of mud.
"Hold the light so I can see to sort this truck," hesaid, and plunged his hand into the bag. It was white when he brought it out.
"Something's got adrift," he commented. "They never can tie a package right in the store."
With some difficulty he at last found the letters, though this necessitated his spreading out most of the rest and the groceries on the wet soil. Then he deposited those that belonged to Jardine in the keg and went on again.
Dense darkness filled the narrow rift in the bush and the feeble rays of the lantern were more bewildering than useful, but they covered another two miles before they stopped at a second keg, when Webster discovered that a couple of letters he fished out were stuck together with half-melted sugar. He tore them apart and rubbed them clean upon his trousers, smearing out the address as he did so.
"It's lucky I looked at them first, because I couldn't tell whose they are now," he said. "Anyway, as I guess the stuff hasn't had time to get inside, Steve will know they're his when he opens them." He raised the bag a little and examined it. "This thing's surely wet."
"I expect it is," said Harry. "The last time you stopped you dumped it in the mud. Didn't they give you some sugar for this place at the store?"
"Why, yes," said Mr. Webster. "I was forgetting it. Hold the lantern lower, Frank, while I look for it."
He pulled the flour bag wider open and presently produced a big paper package which seemed to have lost its shape.
"Half the stuff's run out," he added. "That's what has been mussing up the mail. Pitch this truck out and we'll skip the rest of the sugar out of the bottom of the bag."
It took them some time to deposit the various bundles of letters and packets among the wineberry bushes beside the trail, after which Mr. Webster shook a pound or two of loose wet sugar into the opened package. It appearedto be mixed with flour and other substances, and Harry smiled as he glanced at it.
"It's off its color," he remarked.
"That," said Mr. Webster, "will serve Steve right and save me trouble. The next time he wants sugar he'll walk into the settlement and pack it out himself. When you've put that truck back the mail will go ahead."
They threw the things back into the bag, but while they were engaged in this task Harry held up a bundle of letters to the light and separated two of them from the rest.
"These are dad's," he mused. "It strikes me they'd be safer in my pocket."
They saw no more powder kegs, but by and by they stopped at a ranch where they delivered a newspaper and a pound of coffee, and then plodded on in thick darkness which was only intensified by the patch of uncertain radiance that flickered upon the trail a yard or two in front of them. Even this failed them presently when Frank fell and dropped the lantern. It went out, and neither he nor Harry, who struck a match, could open it.
"I'm afraid I've bent the catch," said Frank.
"It's not going to matter much," Mr. Webster answered. "I guess we can fix the thing when we reach my place, and there isn't another ranch until we come to it."
They trudged along in silence for another hour. The trail seemed darker than ever, and it was oppressively still. Even the great trunks a few yards away were invisible, and once or twice Frank walked into the bushes that clustered among them. At last, however, the sound of running water came out of the gloom and grew louder until the boy fancied that there must be a rapid creek somewhere below them. Neither he nor Harry had been that way before. As they expected to get some shooting, he was carrying the double gun, whichwas beginning to feel heavy, while Harry had brought a rifle. When the roar of water had grown so loud that they could scarcely hear each other's footsteps, Mr. Webster stopped.
"There's an awkward place close ahead, and you had better let me go in front," he warned. "Keep a few yards behind and close to the bank on your left side. The trail goes down a gulch, and there's a steep drop to the creek."
He moved on until the boys could just see his black and shadowy figure. The hollow beneath them was filled with impenetrable gloom, and they went down cautiously, trying to follow him and feeling with their feet for the edge of the bank on one hand. They had gone some little way when Mr. Webster seemed to stagger and suddenly disappear. Then there was a crash amidst the underbrush, a sound which might have been made by a heavy body rolling down a slope, and a hoarse cry which was almost drowned by the clamor of the creek.
The boys stopped abruptly, uncertain what to do. Mr. Webster had evidently fallen down the declivity, but they could not tell where he was in the darkness, or if it was possible to reach him. Frank fancied that if he once moved out from the bank he would probably step over a ledge and plunge down into the creek, which, it was evident, would be of no service to Mr. Webster. By and by he was sincerely glad to hear a sound below him which seemed to indicate that the man was endeavoring to clamber up again. On recalling the incident afterward, he decided that they had stood waiting about a quarter of a minute.
"We must get down somehow," he said to Harry.
His companion did not answer, but gripped his arm warningly. Then to Frank's astonishment another sound rose up somewhere in front of them and a voice followed it.
"Is that you, Webster?" it asked.
"Sure!" was the answer. "I've pitched right down the gulch."
Frank would have scrambled forward, but Harry held him back.
"Hold on!" he said softly. "He doesn't seem hurt."
A crackling and snapping below them suggested that somebody was cautiously scrambling through the undergrowth toward Mr. Webster, while the latter was evidently crawling up the ascent. Frank wondered why Harry had restrained him until a blaze of light suddenly broke out. It showed a very steep bank with clumps of brush scattered about it dropping to a foaming creek, Mr. Webster holding on by the stem of a stunted pine, with the flour bag lying some distance higher up, and another figure moving toward him. A third man stood on the brink of the declivity holding a blazing pineknot. Where the boys stood, however, there was deep shadow.
Mr. Webster, so far as Frank could make out, was gazing at the man nearest him in astonishment.
"Well," he said sharply, "what do you want?"
"The mail," answered the other. "Stop right where you are!"
Then the meaning of the situation dawned on Frank. At that moment he saw Mr. Webster scramble forward to intercept the man who was making for the bag. The latter, however, was nearer it, and he had crept almost up to it while Mr. Webster was still several yards away. Without a moment's hesitation, Frank sprang out into the flickering light.
"Keep back!" he shouted. "Don't touch that bag!"
The radiance fell upon the barrel of his gun, and the next moment Harry emerged from the gloom with his rifle thrust forward. They decided afterward that the strangers could only have seen two indistinct figures with weapons in their hands and that there was nothing to indicate that they were not grown men.
"Hold him up!" shouted Mr. Webster, scrambling forward furiously as if to seize the man.
The latter stooped swiftly and made a grab at the bag as Frank pitched up his gun, though he kept the muzzle of it turned a little from the bent figure, but just then Harry's rifle flashed behind him and there was sudden darkness as the light fell into a thicket. Confused sounds followed the detonation, but it became evident to Frank, now quivering with excitement, that three separate persons were smashing through scrubby undergrowth as fast as they could manage. Then one of them stopped while the rest went on.
"Have you got the bag?" cried Harry.
"It's in my hand," said Mr. Webster.
They heard him floundering toward them, while the other sounds grew fainter, until he emerged from the gloom close beside Frank and threw the bag at his feet.
"Give me your gun," he said shortly. "Stop where you are!"
He disappeared again, but in another moment they saw him raking in a clump of brush from which a pale light still flickered, after which he came back toward them with something blazing feebly in his hand.
"Bring the bag, and be careful how you walk," he said.
When they joined him he was stooping over a short strip of wire stretched across the trail about a foot above the ground, holding the pineknot so that the light fell upon it.
"I guess that's the reason I fell down," he said. "You didn't touch that fellow, Harry."
"I didn't mean to," was the answer. "I wanted to scare him off, and I was mighty thankful when I saw I'd done it."
"Well," said Mr. Webster, "I expect that was wiser. It would have made things worse for your father if you'dplugged him. Anyway, they've cleared and we may as well get on."
"Aren't you hurt?" Frank inquired.
"There's a nasty rip on my leg and my arm feels mighty sore, but that's all the damage. Seems to me I haven't much to complain of, considering how far I fell."
He flung the pineknot down into the ravine as he turned away, and they had crossed the creek and were ascending the other side before one of them spoke again.
"Did you recognize either of the men?" Harry inquired.
"No," said Mr. Webster. "On the whole I don't know that I'd want to do it, though I'm kind of sorry I didn't get my hands upon the nearest fellow. It was those two letters for your father he was after."
"Yes," said Harry gravely, "you're right in that."
The trail got narrower presently and when the boys fell a little behind Harry laid a hand on Frank's arm.
"I'm not sure that dad and Barclay would have had Webster made mail carrier if they had expected this," he whispered. "There's no doubt the dope men are growing bolder."
It appeared that one of the letters which Harry had secured was from Mr. Barclay, and shortly after the boys got back to the ranch Mr. Oliver sent them off to Bannington's with the sloop. Mr. Barclay, he said, was expected down by the next steamer and they must be there in time to take him off. It proved to be an uneventful trip and they returned to the cove with their passenger just as a gloomy day was dying out. Mr. Oliver was shut up with his guest for an hour after supper that night, but at length he called the boys into his room, where Mr. Barclay lay in a big chair with a cigar in his hand. He looked up with a smile when they came in.
"No doubt you'll be pleased to hear that we expect to round up your dope-running friends before the week is out," he said. "Anyway, I fancy it was a relief to my host."
"There's no doubt on that point," Mr. Oliver assured him. "I don't mind admitting that the suspense and the uncertainty as to what they might do were worrying me rather badly."
Frank was surprised to hear it, for the rancher had certainly shown no sign of uneasiness.
"You mean you're going to break up the gang once for all and corral the whole of them?" he asked.
"Something like that," answered Mr. Barclay lazily. "If there's no hitch in the proceedings, I don't expectmany of them will be left at large when our traps are sprung, though the affair will have to be managed with a good deal of caution."
Harry smiled. "There oughtn't to be any hitch. You have been a mighty long while fixing up the thing."
"That remark," said Mr. Barclay, "is to some extent justified. Over in Europe they say 'slow and sure,' though I don't suppose it's a maxim that's likely to appeal to young America. We'll paraphrase it into this form: 'Don't move until you know exactly what you mean to do and how you're going to set about it, and then get at it like a battering ram.'"
"A battering ram must have been a clumsy, old-time contrivance," Harry objected.
"There are reasons for believing it could strike very hard," said his father with a smile.
"It would naturally take a long while to work the thing out," Frank broke in, addressing Mr. Barclay.
"It did," the little, stout man assented. "We had to get hold of a clue here, and another there, and follow them up as far as possible without giving anybody the least idea what we were after. It might have been more difficult if one hadn't been purposely placed in our hands a week ago."
"Somebody has been giving the gang away?" asked Frank.
"That doesn't quite describe it," Mr. Barclay answered. "To be precise, somebody has sold them. It appears that one man a little smarter than the rest discovered that the gang was being watched. That scared him, and, as it happened, he'd had a difference of opinion with the bosses about the share he claimed to be entitled to. He didn't point his suspicions out to them, but when, as he said, they couldn't be induced to do the square thing he came along to one of my subordinates, who sent him to me. I'm not sure that I'd have got much information out of him then if I hadn't been able toconvince him that he and his partners were already more or less in my hands."
Frank was impressed by what he had heard. Indeed, he was conscious that he was half afraid of the man who sprawled lazily in his chair smiling at him. He appeared so easy-going and he had bantered Harry so good-humoredly, but all the time he had been following up the smugglers' trail with a deadly unwavering patience and a keenness which missed the significance of no clue, however small. Now when at last the time for action had come the boy felt that he would strike in the swiftest and most effective manner.
"If there's any small part you can give us—" he said hesitatingly.
"There is," said Mr. Barclay, to the delight of Frank and his companion. "It appears that they intend to land a parcel of dope and some Chinamen at a place down the Straits of Fuca. It will be done at night—the moon will be only in her first quarter next week—and the schooner will stand out to the westward, keeping clear of the traffic to wait for the next evening before going on to the place where she's to make another call. The men and the dope will be seized soon after they're put ashore without anybody on board the vessel being the wiser if our plans work out right, but it's important that we should know as soon as possible if anything has gone wrong and it will be your business to bring me on a message. We'll have a small steamer and a posse hidden ready at this end, and when the schooner runs in two nights later she'll fall into our hands with the rest of the gang, who'll be waiting for what she brings."
Frank looked at Mr. Oliver, who nodded his consent.
"Yes," he said, "I've promised to let you go, though in this case you'll have to take Jake along."
Then Mr. Barclay spread out a chart upon the table and pointed first to an inlet which appeared to lie at some distance from any settlement.
"You'll run in here in the dark and lie close in with the beach until you're hailed by a mounted messenger, which will probably be early on the following morning. When he has given you his message you must manage to deliver it to me here"—he laid his finger on another spot on the chart—"at the latest by the second evening following. That's important, as it's impossible for me to get the news by mail or wire."
He gave them some further instructions, and half an hour had slipped by before he seemed satisfied that they knew exactly what they were to do; then he nodded.
"I think you've got it right," he said. "The great thing is not to be seen if you can help it, and if it's possible you must only run in at either place in the dark."
The boys spent the next two days in a state of eager anticipation, which, however, became much less marked when one lowering afternoon after a long, cold sail they beat the sloop out to the westward down the Straits of Fuca. They had kept watch alternately with Jake during the previous night, throughout most of which it had rained hard, and now Frank, who admitted to himself that he had had enough sailing for a while, was feeling rather limp and weary. He sat beneath the coaming, as far as he could get out of the bitter wind. When at last he raised his head to look about him, he saw nothing very cheerful in the prospect before him.
The light was dim, the low gray sky to windward looked hard and threatening, and a long gray blur which he supposed to be land rose up indistinctly over the port hand. Ahead dingy, formless slopes of water heaved themselves up slowly one after another in dreary succession. They were ridged and wrinkled here and there, and now and then a little wisp of white appeared on one of them, for the long swell of the Pacific was working in. The breeze was very moderate as yet, and each time the sloop sluggishly swung up her bows and lurchedover one of the undulations her mainboom jerked and lifted amidst a harsh clatter of blocks, while the water inside her went swishing to and fro. The noise presently aroused Jake, who was sitting silently at the helm.
"One of you had better get her pumped out," he said. "You haven't done it since we started, and you won't find it easy by and by."
"It doesn't look nice up yonder," said Harry, glancing windward.
"It's either blowing hard in the Pacific or going to do it, and we'll get it presently. I'd be better pleased if we were nearer that inlet. It's eight or nine miles off, and the wind's dead ahead."
"The dope men would rather have a black, wild night, wouldn't they?" suggested Frank.
"They're going to be gratified," Harry answered significantly.
Frank, glad to do something to warm himself, set to work at the little rotary pump, and a stream of water splashed and spread about the deck, which slanted and straightened irregularly. He was still busy when Jake called to him.
"You can let up and get that jib off her. Strip it right off the stay. We're not going to have any use for a sail of that kind. Get out the small one, Harry."
"There's no wind to speak of yet," Harry protested.
"Well," said Jake grimly, "you'll have plenty before you're through."
Harry dragged up the small sail, and when Frank had lowered the larger one they proceeded to strip it off the stay. It took them some little time, but Frank, glancing at the slowly heaving, leaden water, fancied that there was no need for haste until as he and his companion bundled the canvas off the deck Jake called to them.
"Up with that jib!" he ordered. "Get a hustle!"
They had the halliard in their hands, and the sail was half set, when it blew out suddenly and there was a sharpcreaking. The sloop slanted over wildly and a curious humming, rippling sound broke out to windward. Glancing around a moment Frank saw that the swell was growing white, and a rush of cold wind nearly whipped his cap away. Then jamming his feet against a ledge with the deck sloping away beneath him he struggled furiously to hoist the jib, while disjointed cries reached him from the helmsman.
"Heave!" Jake roared. "I can do nothing with her until you have it set!"
They got the sail up somehow, though by the time they had finished the sloop's lee rail was in the sea, and then flung themselves upon the mainsail. They were breathless with the effort before they had tied two reefs in it, and Frank wondered at the change in their surroundings when at length he sat down in the well.
The sea, which had run in long and almost smooth undulations before they began to reef, now splashed and seethed about the boat, and each big slope of water was seamed with innumerable smaller ridges. Bitter spray was flying thick in the air, water already sluiced about the deck, and it was disconcerting to recollect that they were still eight miles from the inlet. This would not have mattered so much had it not lain dead to windward, which meant that they must fight for every yard they made.
There was shelter to lee of them. They could put up the helm and run, but though they were wet through in a few minutes they braced themselves for the struggle, while the savage blast screamed about them and the ominous sound Frank had noticed—the splash of waves that curled and broke—came more loudly out of the gathering gloom ahead. Though his physical nature shrank from the task before him Frank would not have chosen to go back. It was a big thing they were taking a hand in, the climax which all their previous adventures had led up to, and he recognized that they must see it through at any cost.
At last he was playing a man's part, acting in close coöperation with the Government of his country, and Mr. Barclay, who had elaborated the scheme with infinite patience and foresight, counted upon him and his comrade. That they should fail him now was out of the question, but Frank was glad that Jake sat at the tiller. Harry was quick and daring, but he was young, and in this fight there was urgent need for the instinctive skill which comes from long experience. The helmsman's stolidness was more reassuring. He gazed up to windward, gripping the tiller, with the spray upon his rugged face, ready for whatever action might be necessary. Loud talking and an assertive manner were of no service here; what was wanted was raw human valor and steadfast nerve. It was fortunate that Jake, who was tranquil and good-humored, possessed both.
Darkness shut down on them suddenly as they thrashed her out to westward full and by, lurching with flooded decks over the charging seas. Their whitened tops broke over her, her canvas ran water, and every other minute she plunged into a comber with buried bows. The combers, growing rapidly higher, broke more angrily, and her progress changed into a series of jerks and plunges, which at times threatened to shake the spars out of her. Frank could see the black mainsail peak above him swinging madly up and down, and it seemed at times that half her length was out of the water, which was not improbably the case, for the foam upon her hove-up deck poured aft in cascades over the low coaming and splashed about their feet. By and by, for she was shallow-bodied like most centerboard craft, it began to gather in a pool which washed to and fro across the floorings in her lee bilge, and at a shout from Jake he started the pump. It needed no priming, for as soon as he unscrewed the covering plate the sea ran down, and there was now nothing to show what water it flung out, because half the lee deckwas buried in a rush of gurgling foam and the combers' tops broke continuously over the bows.
Still, the work roused and warmed him, and he toiled on, battered and almost blinded by flying brine, while he wondered how long the boat would stand the pressure of her largely reduced sail. He did not think they could tie another reef in, because it seemed certain that something must burst or break the moment a rope was started. Besides, even had it been possible, reefing was out of the question. Their harbor lay to weather, and a boat will not sail to windward in a vicious breeze unless she is driven at a speed which is greater than the resistance of the opposing seas.
They thrashed her out for two anxious hours, since it appeared doubtful that she would come round and a failure to stay her would be perilous in the extreme, but at last Jake called to the boys.
"We've got to do it somehow," he said. "Stand by your lee jibsheet and tail on to the mainsheet the moment you let it run. Hold on till I tell you. We'll wait for a smooth."
A smooth, as it is termed by courtesy, is the interval that now and then follows the onslaught of several unusually heavy seas, and at length as the boat swung up with a little less water upon her deck Jake seemed satisfied.
"Now! Helm's a-lee!" he shouted.
They let the jib fly, and jumping for the mainsheet hauled with all their might, while Jake helped them with one hand as the boat came up to the wind. Then as a comber fell upon her they sprang back to the jibsheet and hauled upon it, while the spray flew all over them. It struck Frank that if the boat did not come round there would very speedily be an end of her. While he watched, holding his breath, the bows swung around a little farther, and working in frantic haste they let the sheet fly and made fast the opposite one, which was now to lee. Sheforged ahead on the other tack—and the most imminent peril was past.
It was two hours later when they raised the land again, and though one or the other of them had pumped continuously the water was splashing high about their feet. Jake had, however, made a good shot of it, for he recognized a ridge of higher ground marked upon the chart, and they drove in toward it, battered, swept, and streaming. Frank felt strangely limp when at length they ran into smoother water, and Jake made one significant remark.
"We're through," he said, "but if we'd had to make another tack it would have finished her."
The black land grew higher until they could make out masses of shadowy pines, and eventually dropping the jib and peak they ran her in behind a point with very thankful hearts and let go the anchor. Half of their task was finished, and they could take their ease until morning broke.
The wind freshened after they reached shelter and it blew very hard. For a time Frank found sleep impossible, though he was glad to lie snug in the warm cabin with the lamp burning above him and the stove snapping cheerfully. The sloop lurched and rocked, drawing her chain tight now and then with a bang, while a muffled uproar went on outside her. Frank could distinguish the angry splash of water upon her bows and the drumming and rapping of loose ropes against the mast, though these sounds were partly drowned by the furious clamor of the ground sea beyond the point and a great deep-toned roaring made, he supposed, by long ranks of thrashing trees. Once or twice, when Jake, who crawled out to see if the anchor was holding, left the slide open, the sound filled the cabin with tremendous pulsating harmonies.
Besides this, the boy's face smarted after the lashing of icy spray, and he wondered whether Mr. Barclay's plans were working out successfully and what fresh adventures awaited Harry and himself on the morrow, all of which was sufficient to keep him in a state of restless expectation. He envied his companion who presently went to sleep, but it was toward morning when at last his own eyelids closed and he got a few snatches of fitful slumber broken by fantastic dreams. He was awakened by a chill upon his face, and looking around saw that Jake had gone out again into the well. The roar of the wind did not seem so overwhelming as it had been, though there was no doubt that it was still blowing hard. By and by Jake called out.
"You'd better get up," he said. "I've a notion that there's somebody hailing us."
Frank crawled out shivering, with Harry grumbling half asleep behind him, and when he stood in the well found he could see a hazy loom of trees across the little white waves that came splashing toward the boat. They made a sharp, rippling sound, pitched in a different tone from the din that rose all around. The latter swelled and sank, and he was slightly surprised when he was able to hear what seemed to be a faint shout. It rose again more clearly, and there was no longer any doubt that somebody on the beach was hailing them.
"Can we get ashore?" he asked.
"You'll have to try," said Jake. "The man's to windward of us, and it will be a stiff paddle, but if you can't manage it you'll blow across to the beach on the other side of the inlet safe enough and he may be able to get round to you. Anyway, I don't want to leave the sloop. She'd have picked up her anchor once or twice if I hadn't given her more cable."
"What time is it?" Harry inquired.
"About seven o'clock," Jake answered. "We'll have daylight soon after you're back."
They hauled up the canoe and were not surprised to find that she was full of water. It took them some time to bail her out, and Frank felt anxious when at last they pushed her clear of the sloop. It was difficult to tell how far off the beach was, and for the first few moments they could make no progress against the blast. Then they won a yard or two in a partial lull, and after that for a while barely held their own by determined paddling. Thick rain drove into their faces and the spray from the bows and splashing blades blew over them. Frank was breathless when they reached the beach, and it cost him an effort to scramble over the uneven stones as far as the edge of the bush, where a shadowy figure stood beside a horse. Its head drooped and even in the darkness, which was not very deep, its attitude was suggestive of exhaustion. The man was dimly visible, and they felt sure that he was the messenger they expected.
"You're here on Barclay's business?" he said.
"Yes," said Harry. "Have you a message for him?"
The man fumbled in his pocket and took out an envelope.
"That's from the boss. I guess it will explain the thing, but he said I'd better let you know that we'd had trouble."
"Then you didn't get the dope men?"
"We corralled three of them; the rest broke away. One of the boys got a bullet in him and he's been lying in the rain all night. I don't know how we're going to pack him out."
"Things went wrong?" said Frank.
"They did," the man assented. "One of the boys got his pistol off by accident just after the boat had come ashore, and that gave our plans away. The boat's crew shoved off and several men who'd been landed broke through in the dark. Anyhow, when the trouble was over we'd got one case of dope, two whites of no account, and a Chinaman."
"And the schooner?"
"She was heading out to sea with mighty little sail on her when I left. You'll be able to take word through to Barclay?"
"I don't know," Harry answered dubiously. "It's too dark to tell what the sea's like now. I suppose there's no other means of warning him?"
"No," said the man. "Even if I could get a message on to the wire they wouldn't be able to deliver it at the other end, but he has to be warned somehow."
"If you'll come off we'll give you breakfast. It should be light enough to see what the weather's like by the time you had finished," Harry suggested.
"It can't be done," was the answer. "I've to go onfor a doctor and raise a crowd to run those fellows down. I've already stayed longer than I should."
"Your horse is played out," Frank objected.
"I'll hire another. There's a ranch somewhere ahead. I'll say you have taken that message."
"We'll do it if it's any way possible," said Harry.
The man turned away without another word and they heard him stumbling through the wood beside his horse until the roar of the wind drowned the sound, after which they went back to the canoe. They had no trouble in reaching the sloop, for they were driven down upon her furiously, and on clambering on board they found that Jake had breakfast ready.
It was daylight when they crawled out of the cabin after the meal, but the sky was hidden by low-flying vapor, and gazing seaward they could see only a short stretch of big leader combers which rolled up out of the haze crested with livid froth. Jake shook his head doubtfully at Harry.
"You'll have to stop a while," he said. "She wouldn't run for half an hour before that sea. We couldn't start till after dinner if the wind dropped right now, but it's falling and we might get away in the afternoon."
The morning dragged by while the boys chafed at the delay, though they had no doubt that Jake was right and neither of them felt any keen desire to face the sea that was tumbling in from the Pacific. Still, the roar of the wind steadily diminished and the sloop rode more easily, and at length Jake offered to make the venture after they had had a meal.
They lashed three reefs down before they started, leaving only a small triangular strip of mainsail set, but that proved quite enough, and during the first few minutes Frank felt almost appalled as he glanced at the great gray combers that heaved themselves up astern. Most of them were hollow breasted, and their tops curled over, flinging up long wisps of foam and roaring ominously.As a rule they broke, divided, on either side of the boat, piling up in a snowy welter high about her shrouds, but now and then one seemed to break all over her and most of her deck was lost in a furious rush of water. Twice the canoe, which was too big to stow on deck, charged up and struck her with a resounding crash, and then broke adrift and disappeared.
By degrees, however, Frank's uneasiness diminished. Somewhat to his astonishment, the light and buoyant craft stood the buffeting, and by the time dusk fell the seas were getting smaller. Still, they were big enough, and the boat appeared to be driving before them at an extraordinary speed. By eight o'clock in the evening they had shaken out one reef, and soon afterward Frank lay down in the cabin, because Jake said that he had no intention of entrusting either him or Harry with the helm, which was on the whole a relief to both of them. To run a small craft before a breaking sea in the dark is a very severe test of nerve, and it is, perhaps, worse when the combers still come foaming after her after the wind has somewhat fallen.
In spite of the violent motion Frank managed to sleep until he was awakened some time after midnight by a shout from Jake. Crawling out, partly dazed, with his eyes half open, he saw that the sky had cleared and that a crescent moon was shining down. Then, close ahead of them, he saw the schooner.
She was also running, for her stern was toward them, though for a moment or two it was hidden by the white top of a sea, and Frank could only make out the forward half of her sharply tilted deck. Her bowsprit and two torn jibs above it were high in the air, and her black boom-foresail all bunched up, with its gaff, which had swung down, jammed against the foremast shrouds. She carried no after canvas, and the reason became evident when, as her stern lurched up, Frank saw that her mainmast was broken off short. She sank down again whilea comber foamed high about her rail, which was shattered on one quarter where the falling mast had struck, and a mass of canvas and tangled gear trailed in the sea beneath it. What struck the boy most, however, was the erratic manner in which she was progressing, for her bows swung up to windward every now and then until all her side was visible and she lumbered off at angle to her course and then came lurching back again. She was herringboning, as it is called at sea, in an extraordinary fashion, and she seemed low in the water.
In the meanwhile the sloop was coming up with her fast and Jake stood up at the tiller to see more clearly.
"They've been in trouble, sure," he said. "I could tell there was nobody at her helm when I first saw her and that's why I ran up so close. Ease the peak down, one of you; I don't want to run by until we've had a look at her."
Harry did so, and as they stood watching her the schooner slued round until she was almost beam to wind. The sea streamed down her weather side, which rose up like a wall, and Frank could see her wheel behind the low deckhouse jerking to and fro. There was no sign of life anywhere on board her.
"Deserted!" Jake said shortly. "They must have jibed her and smashed her mainmast. She seems a smart vessel. Seems to me she ought to fetch a good many dollars."
The sloop was sailing more slowly now with her peak swung down, keeping pace with the schooner but a little behind her, and the boys gazed hard at Jake. His rugged face looked very thoughtful in the moonlight.
"It's a fair wind to the islands and she'd come up until it was abeam with the foresail set if it was necessary," he said. "It wouldn't be much trouble to sail her in and she could be beached somewhere in smooth water. Anyhow, I'd like to get on board her."
"If you ran up close alongside when she screws towindward one of us could jump," Harry suggested eagerly. "There's a raffle of ropes over her quarter."
Jake seemed dubious. "It might be done and Barclay would be uncommonly glad to get his hands on her, but I can't leave the sloop. Somebody has to take that message."
"Put us on board," urged Harry. "How far is it to the islands?"
"With this wind and the whole sail on her she ought to fetch them by daylight." Then Jake seemed to hesitate. "Looks as if there was water in her, but one could wear her round and fetch the land to southward if she was leaking very bad."
The boys looked at each other and the same impulse seized upon both of them. This was an adventure such as they had never dreamed of, and with a fair wind they would only have to keep the vessel running until they picked up the land. It would not be difficult, for she was under very easy sail, and the only hazard would be in the attempt to get on board her. Then Harry jumped forward and hauled up the peak.
"Run alongside as quick as you can," he said.
Jake put down his helm a little, and the boys stood up on the weather deck with tense, set faces as the sloop crept in under the schooner's lea. The latter slued to windward while the spray flew over her, rolling until her deck on the side nearest them was level with the sea, and then fell off again and sluggishly heaved her bows high above the foam. This herringboning was the danger, since it would need nerve and skill to get near her without wrecking the sloop. A blow from the big lurching hull would probably send her to the bottom.
Frank felt himself quivering all through as they closed with the derelict yard by yard, until when she once more lumbered round to windward Jake put down his helm a little farther. The sloop shot in beneath the black hull, which broke the sea and partly sheltered her, but as sheswept forward amidst a long wash of foam Frank's courage ebbed away from him. A great white swell lapped about the wall of wet planking close in front of him, and the top of it was higher than his head. It seemed impossible that he could spring out from the lurching sloop and by any means clamber up. All his senses shrank from the dangerous task, but with a determined effort he braced himself. If Harry made the attempt he would do it, too, and he clenched his hands and set his lips as the schooner's side came sinking down.
"Don't jump unless you are sure you can reach her!" shouted Jake.
They were now scarcely a fathom from the trailing wreckage, and the schooner's rail was dipping lower. It seemed just possible to clutch it by a desperate leap, and the next moment Harry launched himself out into the air. Frank followed, struck the wet planking, and seizing a trailing rope held on by it with his legs in the sea. Then he dragged himself up clear of the water, and Harry, who was kneeling in the opening in the broken rail, reached down to him.
Frank clutched his hand, and in a few more seconds was almost astonished to find himself, breathless and dripping, safe upon the schooner's deck. A glance showed him the sloop abreast of her quarter and about a dozen yards away.
"Jake did that mighty smartly," Harry gasped. "I'll get to the wheel while you look around her."
Frank had some difficulty in getting about the vessel. She was rolling wildly and loose ropes and blocks whipped blindly to and fro, but he noticed that the boat had gone, and the cleanly severed shrouds indicated that her mainmast had been cut loose after it had fallen over the side. It was evident that the crew had made some attempt to save the vessel before they abandoned her. The mainboom had disappeared, though the broken gaff and part of the sail were still attached to the hull by a mass of tangled gear. Scrambling forward he found the anchor lying still hooked to a tackle and half secured with its arms upon the rail, which suggested that the smugglers had sailed in haste and had been kept too busy afterward to make it fast. It was reassuring to discover that the anchor could be dropped without much trouble if this became necessary. Then he came upon a lantern hooked beneath the forecastle scuttle and went back to report to Harry. The latter, who was standing at the wheel, listened to him attentively.
"Well," he said at length, "I can't figure out the thing, and unless some of the dope men explain it I don't think we're likely to be much wiser. As Jake said, it looks as if they had jibed her by accident, which would probably rip out the mainmast, but, although it's easy to bring the mainboom over on a fore-and-aft rigged craft, it's mighty seldom that a capable sailor does it. Then, as there's water in her, they must have bumped her on areef, though she could only have struck once or twice before she drove over it. That's as far as I can get, and the first thing is to find out what water there is below. It's fortunate you have a lantern."
Frank looked around. There was no doubt that the wind was falling, and the schooner, having only part of her forward canvas set, steered easily. The sloop, which had sheered off a little farther, was sailing abreast of her with lowered peak about a hundred yards away, rising and falling with the long combers which, however, broke less angrily.
"Jake will stand by for three or four hours," Harry explained. "After that he'll have to haul her up to make the inlet where we were to join Barclay, but it will be close on daylight by then."
Frank was glad to hear it. There would be some peril in getting on board the sloop if that became necessary, but it was comforting to see her close at hand. In the meanwhile he shrank from going below and made no move to do so until Harry spoke again.
"I'm anxious about that water and you had better get down," he said. "Go in by the house; there'll probably be a lazaret below it with an opening in the deck."
Frank reluctantly scrambled forward around the house, the door of which faced toward the bows, and being out of the wind there he contrived to light the lantern, though he struck several matches in the attempt. The house, which occupied most of the vessel's quarter, was low so that the mainboom could swing over it, and it was evident that the cabin floor was sunk some feet below the level of the deck. Frank thrust the door open and then stood hesitating, holding up the lantern, which did not burn well and only flung a faint light into the obscurity before him. He could hear an ominous gurgle of water below when the schooner rolled and made out three or four steps which seemed to lead down into it. As he placed his foot on the first of them the vessellurched wildly and he went down with a bang, while the lantern flew out of his hand. For no very evident reason, except that he was overstrung, he could have shouted in alarm as he lay upon the wet flooring in the dark. He had struck his knee in his fall and for a moment or two he feared to move it.
Then he noticed a pale reflection against what he supposed to be the bottom of a seat, and as it was evident that the overturned lantern had not quite gone out he crawled toward it. As he did so the splash and gurgle of water seemed much louder than it had done on deck. He could hear it surge against the sides of the vessel and the hollow sound jarred upon his nerves. He longed to escape from the oppressive obscurity and get out into the moonlight by his companion's side, but he reflected that it would not be pleasant to tell Harry that he had run away from the darkness and left the lantern. He determined to secure the latter, and he was moving toward it on hands and knees when his fingers struck something that felt like a pistol. He let it lie, however, and stretched out his hand for the lantern, setting it upright. The flickering flame grew brighter, and standing up he flung the uncertain light about him. There was undoubtedly a revolver on the uncovered floor, which was dripping wet, and he thought it curious that the smugglers should have left the weapon lying in that position; but ever since he had boarded the schooner he had been troubled by an uncomfortable sense of strangeness. The fact that her crew had abandoned her, apparently without a sufficient reason, suggested a mystery. Then he raised his hand so that the radiance touched a little, clamped-down table, and as it did so he started and came near dropping the lantern again, for a man sat at the table with his head and shoulders resting upon it as if he had suddenly fallen forward.
Frank afterward confessed that his first impulse was to run toward the door, and he was never quite certainwhy he did not do so, but he stood still holding up the lantern, while his heart throbbed painfully and his flesh seemed to creep. The bent figure was unnaturally still, but when the schooner lurched and the table slanted it fell forward a little farther, all in one piece—which was how he thought of it—and as a heavy sack would have done. That was too much for Frank, and clambering up the steps he ran back to Harry in breathless haste.
"You look as if something had scared you," said the latter with a trace of anxiety in his voice.
Frank leaned against the house, and his face showed white and set in the moonlight.
"There's a man lying across the table in the cabin," he panted.
Harry started, but he pulled up his helm a spoke or two.
"She'll come up if I leave her, but that won't matter much," he said. "We'll go back together."
Frank felt a little easier now that he had a companion, and he was more collected when he stood in the cabin holding up the light while Harry, who called first and got no answer, walked cautiously toward the huddled figure. Then he shrank back a pace or two.
"The man's dead!" he said.
After that neither of them moved for half a minute during which the deck slanted wildly beneath them, and then Frank proceeded very reluctantly toward the table. Harry followed him, and when they stooped over the shadowy figure Frank caught a partial glimpse of a yellow face and saw that the man wore a loose blue jacket.
"Turn the light a little," said Harry in a low, hoarse voice, and when Frank had done so he looked around at him.
"It's the man we got dinner with the day we went up the creek. He's been shot," he added.
Once more the horror of the thing was almost too much for Frank, but just then a furious thrashing of loose canvas and clatter of blocks broke out above them and relieved the tension.
"She's luffing with the sea on her quarter," said Harry. "I must get back to the helm, but we'll wait a moment and look around first. Lower your lantern. There's something on the floor—no, I don't mean the pistol, though you can pick that up."
He stooped down beside Frank, who held the lantern close to the wet planking, and saw for the first time a broad wet stain upon it leading toward the steps. That was enough for both of them, and saying nothing further they scrambled toward the door. They did not stop until they reached the wheel, and then Harry spent a few moments getting the vessel before the wind again.
"We're no wiser about the water yet," he said at length with a strained laugh.
"No," said Frank. "I didn't think about it—I only wanted to get out as quick as I could." He broke off, and then added, "What do you make of it?"
Harry stretched out one hand for the pistol, opened it, and held it up in the moonlight.
"There's a shell still in," he said. "The man it belonged to must have dropped it in a mighty hurry. It's clear that there was a row on board her either before or after she lost her mast. That Chinaman had a bullet through his head and somebody else was hurt, though he got out of the house—the stains showed that. I wonder"—and he dropped his voice—"if we ought to search the forecastle."
"I'mnot going down," Frank answered decisively.
"Well," said Harry, "I don't feel like it either. That's the simple fact."
Again there was silence for a while and both were glad that the solid end of the house stood between them and what lay in the cabin. Then Frank roused himself.
"We've forgotten about the water, but the hatch is smashed," he said. "I expect they dropped the boat upon it in heaving her out. I might get down that way."
"You had better try," said Harry, glancing around and pointing to the sloop, which was now nearer them. "Jake must have edged her in when he saw the schooner come up with no one at the helm," he added. "It's nice to feel that he's about."
Frank agreed with him. Once more he found the sight of the sloop curiously reassuring, but he scrambled forward, and, wriggling through a hole in the broken hatch, clambered partly down a beam. There was water below him, but there was less than he expected, and he could not hear any more pouring in, though he recognized that this would have been difficult on account of the gurgling and splashing that was going on. After listening for a minute or two he went back to Harry.
"There's a good deal of water in her," he said. "Hadn't we better heave some of it out?"
"I don't think it would be worth while," was Harry's answer. "You could hardly work the pump alone, and if I left the helm she'd keep running up into the wind and yawing about. I'd rather shove her along steadily toward the land."
"Then can't we get the foresail properly set and drive her a little faster?" Frank inquired. "She ought to bear it now the wind's dropping."
It was not only the leak that troubled him. He wanted to escape as soon as possible from the horror that seemed to pervade the vessel, and his companion eagerly seized upon the suggestion.
"Why, of course!" replied Harry. "I might have thought of it, but I've been kind of dazed since we got out of the cabin."
They went forward and led the halliards to the winch, but they would have had trouble in setting the partly lowered sail if the schooner had not come up into thewind and relieved the strain on it. By degrees they heaved up the gaff and peaked it, after which they went aft, as the vessel plowed faster over the falling sea.
"Now," said Frank, "the question is, where are we heading for?"
"I've been worrying over that while we set the sail," Harry responded. "If we hauled her up right now we might, perhaps, fetch the inlet where we arranged to join Barclay, but we'd have to jibe the foresail over, and as I would have to keep the helm while I brought her round and you wouldn't be able to check the sheet alone, it's very likely that something would smash when the boom came across. Besides that, we'd have a strip of rocky coast to lee of us presently, and we mightn't be able to keep her off it with only the foresail set. On the other hand, so far as I can recollect from looking at the chart, the islands are dead to leeward and we'd only have to keep her running to reach them. There's a sound where we'd find smooth water once we sailed her in. That would be the wiser plan."
Frank, concurring in this, sat down near the helm. He felt that he would not like to go far away, and he remembered that night watch long afterward.
The moon crept on to the westward, getting lower, and now and then flying clouds obscured the silvery light. The combers still came surging after them crested with glittering froth, though they no longer broke about the rail, and there was a constant gurgling and splashing of water inside the lurching vessel. At last Jake jibed the sloop's mainsail over and stood away from them. The moon was very low now and Frank grew somewhat uneasy as he watched the boat's canvas fade into the creeping gloom. Shortly afterward the moon dipped altogether and it was very dark.
"We can't be far off the land," said Harry. "I don't want to come up with it before daylight, but with no after canvas on her I don't suppose we could round herup and wait. If we did, I'm not sure we could get her to fall off again—one of the jibs is torn to ribands and the other's split. We'll have to keep her running."
They drove on and presently a faint gray light crept across the water to the east. A little later, when all the sky was flushed with red and saffron, a long black smear cut sharply across the glow.
"The first of the islands," announced Harry. "It's right abeam. We must get some foresail sheet in."
They had difficulty in doing so, though they led the sheet to the winch, but the schooner came up closer afterward, and when the sun had climbed above a bank of cloud the end of the island was rising before them and a strip of water opening up beyond it. Half an hour later they ran in with the foresail peak lowered down, and Frank gazed anxiously ahead as they drove on more slowly up a broad channel. On one hand there were rocks and scrubby pines, with larger trees behind, but he wondered what the result would be if a reef or a jutting point lay in front of them. The vessel's speed, however, grew slower still, the water became smoother, and at last Harry looked around at him.
"If you'll unhook the tackle and cut the lashing you ought to get the anchor over," he remarked. "I'll luff her as far as possible and you'll heave the thing off when I drop the foresail."
There followed a clatter of blocks, and a furious rattle of running chain, which presently stopped. Then as the swinging vessel drew her cable out they toiled desperately at the windlass to heave up more of it from below. The task was almost beyond their strength, but somehow they managed it and Harry clapped on a chain stopper.
"That should hold her," he said. "There's not much wind now. I'd be glad to leave her if I could get ashore."
This, however, was out of the question, since thecanoe had gone, and very much against their will they waited on board for several hours until at length a trail of smoke arose above the pines. Then a little steamer with foam about her bows appeared from behind a point and the hoot of her whistle rang sharply across the water.
"Barclay, sure!" said Harry. "I'm certainly glad to see him."
A few minutes later Mr. Barclay climbed on board and went down into the cabin and all over the vessel with them before he made any remarks. At length he turned to the boys as they stood by the rail.
"You have done a very smart thing and I don't think you'll have any reason for regretting it," he said pointedly. "This is a good set-off against the failure at the other end. Jake got in with the message and we started as soon as I'd had a talk with him. Fortunately, we were able to creep along through the sounds and it's scarcely likely that any of the smugglers can have seen us."
"But what has become of this vessel's crew?" Frank asked.
"I don't know," replied Mr. Barclay. "We'll probably ascertain something about them later."
"Do you expect to corral the rest of them to-night?" Harry broke in.
"It's possible," said Mr. Barclay with a trace of dryness. "The first thing, however, is to beach this vessel, and then you and Jake must get off in the sloop. There's a good deal to be done, and I want to run the steamer back out of sight up the inlet as soon as it can be managed."
He called some of his companions on board, and when Frank and Harry sat down to an excellent meal in the steamer's cabin they heard the men heaving the schooner's anchor.