114CHAPTER XIIITHE TABLES TURNED
Negotiation of the entrance of all into the passageway was made without accident, Tom Barnum staying until next to last and then, with a number of belts buckled together, aiding Frank to gain the opening. Meanwhile Jack, who was in the lead, found on closer investigation that the slatted shutter obscuring the air port was on hinges and caught with a rusted latch. To open the latch and unhinge the shutter and then, by turning it sideways, pull it back into the passageway and place it noiselessly on the floor, was a comparatively simple matter.
Whispering to Captain Folsom, next in line, to pass the word along that all should stay in the passageway while he investigated the situation outside, Jack squirmed partway through the opening, faced upward, took a good clutch on the shingled edge of the rooftree and gradually drew his body out and over the edge of the roof. When, finally, he lay extended on the roof, clutching the saddle for support, he was115of the opinion that Captain Folsom with only one arm to aid him, certainly could not negotiate the exit in similar fashion, and examined the shingles to see whether they could be torn up sufficiently to admit of his friends climbing through.
The moon shone brilliantly. On that side of the house were no lights in any windows. No sounds of any human activity came to him. The house was large, with numerous gables that prevented Jack from seeing seaward.
Leaning over the edge of the roof, he called in a low voice to Captain Folsom who looked up from the little window. Jack told him to wait, and explained he was going to try to rip off a number of shingles.
“But the crosspieces to which the shingles are nailed are close together,” Captain Folsom objected. “They are too close to permit of our crawling through. And, while they are light and might be broken, yet we would make considerable noise doing so and might give the alarm.”
Jack considered a moment.
“That’s true,” he replied. “But, if I break off the shingles around the peak of the roof, here at the very end, you will have a better chance to climb out, then, because you will have the exposed crosspieces to cling to.”116
Working rapidly, Jack managed to remove a patch of shingles over a space of several square feet, in short order. By the exercise of extreme caution, he was enabled to complete the work without making other than very slight noise.
“Now,” he said, speaking through the bars made by the crosspieces, “come ahead, Captain. Put your head backward out of the window, and place your hand just where I tell you. I shall hook my feet under these crosspieces to brace myself. That will leave both hands free to aid you.”
Captain Folsom followed directions, and with Jack lending his support, he managed to gain the roof. Then Bob, Tom Barnum and Frank followed in quick succession. To make room for them, Jack and Captain Folsom had worked their way along the rooftree, which was not the main rooftree of the house, they had discovered, but that of one of the side gables, with which, as Jack phrased it, “the house was all cluttered up.”
This particular rooftree was blocked ahead by the cupola, to which Jack earlier had referred. It was a square, truncated tower with a breast-high wooden balustrade around it. Jack climbed up this balustrade, and Captain Folsom, with Bob aiding him from the rear and Jack giving him a hand in front, followed.117
Then, while the others were clambering up, Jack cast a quick look around from this eminence. He found, however, that the trees of the grove cut off any view of the beach. But he was enabled to see the grill-like towers of the radio station some distance to the left of the house. With satisfaction, he noted not a light was shown, and apparently the place was deserted.
Still not a sound of human activity of any sort reached him, and Jack was puzzled. Had their captors departed, and left them bound, in that apparently impregnable cell, to die? He could not believe it. No, surely they were not to be killed. Either the house was to be abandoned by the smugglers, and their friends and families would be notified where to find them, or else, the smugglers intended to return for them presently.
If this latter supposition were correct, then, thought Jack, it behooved him to act quickly. For, if the smugglers returned and found they had escaped from the cell, there would be only one conclusion to draw as to their method of escape, and that would be the right one.
Bending down, he saw at once in the bright moonlight the outlines of a big trapdoor under his feet. A ringbolt at one edge showed how it was raised. Seizing it in a firm grip, Jack started to raise the118trap. His heart beat suffocatingly. What would he find underneath?
An inch at a time Jack raised the trap, while the others knelt at the sides, peering through the growing opening. Only darkness met their gaze, and the smell of hot air imprisoned in a closed house came out like a blast from a furnace door. The hinges, apparently long unused and rusted, creaked alarmingly despite all the care Jack exercised. But not a sound came up from below.
At length Jack threw back the door, and the bright moonlight pouring down the opening in a flood of silver revealed a narrow, ladder-like stairway descending to an uncarpeted hall. Jack started down with the others at his heels.
In the hall he paused, to once more accustom his eyes to the dimness which now, however, was not impenetrable, as in their cell, because of the moonlight. Presently he was able to make out a long hall with only two doors breaking the double expanse of wall. One door, on the right, was massive and over it was a huge iron bar in a socket.
“That’s the door to the cell they had us in,” said Frank, with conviction, as they stood grouped before it. “Brrr. We’d have had a fine chance to break that down.”
Leading the way and walking on the balls of his119feet, shoes in hand, Jack moved forward to the other door and had just laid his hand on the knob and was about to turn it, when he heard voices on the other side and the sound of footsteps mounting upward.
His mind worked lightning-fast in this crisis. It was the door of a stairway leading to the lower part of the house. Somebody was ascending it, not one man but several. They could have only one purpose. There was only one room up here on this upper floor—the cell. Therefore, whoever was coming up intended to visit them, thinking they still were in that room.
These thoughts flashed through Jack’s mind in less time than it took a man to mount a step. And, as quickly, he thought of a plan. Turning to his companions, he whispered:
“Quick, get back to the cupola stairs, Frank, because you’re nearest. Then run up and lower the trapdoor, and crouch outside until I call you. The rest of us can crouch down in this little space beyond the door, and we’ll be hidden by it when the door swings open.”
Frank was off on noiseless feet, while the other four huddled into the space indicated by Jack. By the time the men mounting the stairs swung the door inward, Frank had succeeded in gaining the cupola. The noise made by the rusted hinges, as the120trap was lowered was covered up by the voices of the men.
Fortunately, they did not close the stair door, but left it standing open, thus hiding the four behind it. There were three in the party, judging by the sound of voices and footsteps, and one at least carried a powerful electric flashlight.
“Thought I heard a scratching sound,” said a voice, which Jack and Bob recognized as that of Higginbotham. “But I guess it was made by mice. This old house is filled with them.”
A few steps farther along the party paused, and Jack, looking from his hiding place, saw three figures, shadowy and indistinct, before the huge door of the cell, upon which one man had thrown the light, while another was fumbling at the bar. The door swung open, and the three walked in.
“Come on,” whispered Jack.
Not waiting for the others, realizing it would be only a moment or two before their disappearance from the cell would be discovered, he leaped from hiding, tore down the little hall like a whirlwind, dashed against the great door and swung it into place. Bob, who was close at his heels, dropped the iron bar into place.
They were not a moment too soon. Shouts of amazement and alarm came from the room even as121the door was swinging shut. And hardly had Bob dropped the bar into the socket than those within threw themselves against the door. So tremendously thick and strong was the latter, however, that with its closing all sound from within was reduced to the merest whisper. As for trying to move it, as well attempt to push an elephant over by hand. This those within must have realized, for presently they desisted.
“Got ’em in their own cage,” said Jack, triumphantly. And, pulling from his pocket Tom Barnum’s little flashlight, he reassured himself the door really was barred, then mounting the stairway thumped on the trapdoor as a signal to Frank. The latter at once raised the door.
“Come on down, Frank,” said Jack. “There were three of them, and we penned them in the cell.”
Hastily he explained what had occurred.
“Now, fellows,” said he. “Let’s see who else is downstairs. Let’s see if we can’t get out of here, so we can radio Lieutenant Summers for help.”
“But how about leaving these chaps behind, Jack?” protested Bob. “They can get out the same way we did, and give the alarm. What we want to do is to bring Lieutenant Summers to the scene without letting these rascals get an inkling of what’s hanging over them. If Higginbotham and his companions122escape, he’ll start a search for us, and our plans will stand a fair chance of being spoiled.”
“You’re right, Bob,” said Jack. “But what can we do? They can’t get out of there in a minute. It will take them some time because, for one reason, they will be fearful of our lying in wait for them, perhaps. Meantime, we can be moving fast. Captain Folsom,” he added, deferring to the older man, “what do you think we ought to do?”
But the latter laid his sound arm on Jack’s shoulder.
“Listen,” he cautioned.
Muffled, but distinct, there came an outbreak of pistol shots, followed by shouts faintly heard.
“What I feared,” said Captain Folsom. “They are out on the roof already, and shooting and calling to attract help. Come. We have no time to lose.”
Fumbling his way along the dark hall toward the stair door, he said:
“Quick, Hampton, with your light. I can’t find the knob. Ah”—as the light of the little torch winked on—“that’s better.”
He pulled the door open, and started down the stairs, Jack at his shoulder and flashing the light ahead. The others crowded at their heels.
123CHAPTER XIVTHROUGH THE TUNNEL
At the foot of the stairway was another door, and this stood open. It gave upon another hallway, carpeted richly, and dim, yet not so dark but what Captain Folsom could see his way. This faint illumination came up a great open stairway from a wide and deep living room below into which descended another stairway at the far end of the hall.
A male voice, not unmusical, singing a rousing chorus in Italian, and peering circumspectly through an open balustrade into that lower room, Captain Folsom saw the singer seated at a great square piano, a giant of a man with a huge shock of dark brown hair and ferocious mustaches, while a coal black negro, even huger in size, lolled negligently at one end of the keyboard, his red lips parted wide in a grin of enjoyment and ivory white teeth showing between, and at the other end of the piano, with his elbows planted on the instrument and his head pressed between his hands, stood or rather leaned a124rough-looking man of medium height, his grizzled hair all awry where he had run his fingers through it, and wearing a khaki shirt open at the throat.
“Sing that again, Pete. What d’ye call it? The Bull Fighter Song, hey? Well, I don’t know much about music, but that gits under my skin. Come on.”
The man called Pete was about to comply, and the Negro was nodding his head in violent approval, when the door from the outside gallery was burst open unceremoniously, and a villainous looking individual whirled into the room in a state of great excitement. Others were behind him but, evidently not daring to venture within, stood grouped in the open doorway.
“Here, Mike, wot d’ye mean, comin’ in like this? Into a gentleman’s house, too. Don’t ye know any better, ye scut?” demanded the first speaker, he who had asked for a repetition of the song.
Evidently, thought Captain Folsom, here was the leader, for the other deferred to him, although it was apparent he was a privileged character.
“Ah, now, Paddy Ryan,” said the man called Mike; “ah, now, Paddy Ryan, sure an’ I know ’tis a gentleman’s house since you rule it. But do them fellers on the roof know it?”
“Fellers on the roof?” said Ryan, advancing a125step, threateningly. “Mike, ye been drinkin’ again. An’ the night’s work not done yet. Out on ye, ye—ye––”
“Listen,” said Mike, holding up a hand. “Listen. ’Tis all I ask. Sure an’ wid Pete caterwaulin’, ’tis no wonder at all ye cannot hear wot’s goin’ on. Hear the shootin’ now, don’t ye?”
As if he were a magician calling the demonstration into being at command, the shooting and shouting of the trio on the roof, which for the moment had died down, was now violently renewed. Ryan’s lower jaw dropped open grotesquely.
“Now will ye believe me?” demanded Mike, triumphantly.
“Who—who is it?” asked Ryan, still in the grip of his astonishment.
“How should we know?” asked Mike. “We was comin’ up from the beach wid another cargo o’ the stuff when we hear it.”
“Mistuh Higginbotham went up to de roof wid two men,” interposed the gigantic negro. “Leastways, he done went up to see ’bout dem prisonahs an’ ax ’em a few quistions.”
“You’re right, George,” said Ryan. “I’d forgotten. Listen to that. There they go again. Come on.”
He darted for the outer door, the negro George,126Pete and Mike at his heels. The crowd of mixed whites and blacks in the doorway gave ’way before him. In a trice they all were gone. The room was deserted.
“Now is our chance,” said Captain Folsom, to the three boys and Tom Barnum, crouching beside him. “Come on. We must get downstairs and out of the house before they return, for return they will as soon as they understand what the fellows on the roof have to tell of our mysterious disappearance.”
He darted down the stairs, two at a time, with the four others close behind him. Halfway across the big room, however, he halted abruptly and groaned:
“Too late. They’re coming back.”
“Here,” cried Jack, seizing him by an arm, and pushing him along. “Quick, fellows, through this door. It’s a chance.”
Jack had observed a closed door, near the piano, and the others followed pell-mell behind him and Captain Folsom. Frank, the last to enter, closed the door and, finding his hand encounter a key, turned it in the lock.
None too soon. They could hear shouts and curses, as the mob surged up the stairway.
Jack, meanwhile, had been flashing Tom’s torch127about and, discovering a wall switch, had pressed a button. At once an electric light in the ceiling flashed on, revealing that they were in a large pantry. Bottles of liquor stood about and, on a tray, were a number of sandwiches.
“That black butler was preparing to feed his boss,” surmised Frank. “Well, those chicken sandwiches look all right. I’m goin’ to have one. Hungry.”
And without more ado, Frank took a sandwich and began eating.
“Great stuff,” he said.
“Say, you, come on,” called Jack, smiling a little, nevertheless, despite his anxiety. “Think of eating at a time like this!”
“Why not?” said Frank, polishing off the first sandwich and taking another. “Well, lead on, Macduff. Where you going?”
“There’s no way out of this except by the cellar,” Jack replied, already having opened the other door of the pantry and shot the rays of his searchlight down the stairway. “Shall we try it?”
“We can’t stay here,” answered Captain Folsom. “They’re searching the rooms above us right now, by the sound of it. Soon they’ll be down here. And we can’t go out through the living room, because I’ve withdrawn the key and peeped through the keyhole128in the door and can see two men on guard at the foot of the stairway.”
Tom Barnum up to this moment had had little to say. Now, however, he came forward with a remark that caused the others to stare in amazement.
“There’s said to be a secret passage from the cellar to Starfish Cove or thereabouts,” he said. “I don’t know nothin’ about it, but that’s what folks say. They say as how old Pirate Brownell was afraid his sins would catch up with him some day, and hoped to escape by the passage when the avengers came. He couldn’t do it, however. He wasn’t quick enough.”
“A secret passage?” said Jack. “Come on. Last man closes the cellar door and locks it from the inside.”
Frank was the last to go. Before quitting the pantry, he stuffed the remaining sandwiches into his trousers pockets, seized on a tremendous butcher knife which was lying on the butler’s cabinet, and switched off the light. Then he locked the cellar stairway door, and descended to where the others awaited him at the foot.
They stood, as well as they could discern, in the midst of a huge cellar piled high with cases upon cases of bottles and barrels, too.129
“Whew,” said Captain Folsom, “this looks like a bonded liquor warehouse. If we could only raid this place right now, it would be the richest haul in the history of the country since the nation went dry.”
“Is all this liquor?” asked Frank, incredulously.
“It is,” said Captain Folsom, pulling a bottle from the nearest case and examining the label critically. “And it’s the genuine stuff, too. Brought in from the Bahamas. English and Scotch whiskey.”
Louder shouts overhead and the noise of many feet descending stairs warned them the pursuit had drawn to the ground floor, and that they were in momentary danger of discovery.
“Those two doors won’t hold long,” said Jack, anxiously. “If we can’t find that tunnel entrance, we are out of luck. I think myself, we had better look for a door to the outside and try to escape that way.”
At that moment, Tom Barnum’s voice, low but tense and thrilling with excitement, came out of the darkness ahead.
“Mister Jack, Mister Jack, come here. Here where ye see my light.”
The others had not missed Tom before. But immediately on reaching the cellar, he had gone130exploring by the light of the matches he had found in his pockets, without troubling Jack for the flashlight.
Hurriedly, the others now made their way to where a dim gleam of light which went out before they reached it only to be succeeded by another, showed where Tom was awaiting them. When they reached his side, they found him crouched at the foot of a wall, pushing and straining at a big barrel.
“Lend a hand,” he panted. “The entrance is back here.”
Almost over their heads on the floor above, an attack was made at this moment on the door connecting living room and pantry. They could hear the shouts to surrender, to unlock the door, and the blows being rained upon the barrier.
“Push. It’s a-movin’.”
The barrel did move aside sufficiently to admit of a man getting between it and the wall, and in the rays of the flashlight appeared a small, door-like opening in the stone.
“In with ye, every one,” said Tom. “I’ll pile a couple o’ these cases on top of each other to cover up the entrance, an’ climb over it.”
The door above, the first of the two impeding pursuit, fell with a splintering crash. There was a131shout of triumph, giving way to surprise when the pantry was found untenanted. Captain Folsom and the boys without more delay crawled into the opening. They could hear Tom piling cases over the entrance, then a thud as, having climbed his barricade, he dropped to the cellar floor on the inside. Then he joined them.
Once more, Jack called the precious flashlight into play, and all could see they stood in a narrow, brick-walled tunnel, with a vaulted roof above. It was some four feet high, preventing them from standing upright, and the walls were a yard apart. The next moment the flashlight flickered and died.
“Gone,” said Jack. “Burned out. Now we are ditched.”
“Not yet,” said Captain Folsom, resolutely. “Barnum, how many matches have you?”
“About a dozen left in this packet,” answered Tom’s voice in the darkness. “But they’re them paper things the cigar companies give away. Got ’em the other day when I was to the village. They’re not much good.”
“They’re better than nothing,” answered the captain. “They were good enough to enable you to find this tunnel. Come, there’s no need to despair. I’ve got some matches myself, big ones. I’ll give them to you, and do you lead the way.”132
Striking a match, he located Tom behind him. Handing him a dozen big matches which he had found in a trousers pocket, he pressed against the wall to permit of Tom’s passing him. The others did likewise.
“Keep right behind me an’ touchin’ each other,” said Tom. “I can feel the wall on each side with my hands, an’ so can the rest of ye as we go along. I’ll save the matches till we need them.”
Without more ado, he set out, Jack, Bob, Frank and Captain Folsom at his heels in the order mentioned. They found that, despite the pitchy-black darkness, they were able to make good progress, for the narrow confines of the tunnel permitted of no going astray. All kept listening with strained attention for sounds of pursuit, but none came for so long they began to feel more hopeful. Perhaps, their pursuers did not know of the secret passage. No, that was unlikely, inasmuch as one or other of the smugglers must have seen the tunnel mouth when he placed that barrel before it. Faint shouts from the cellar came to their ears, indicating a search for them was in progress there. The smugglers probably would look to see whether they were hidden among the barrels and cases, and not until that search had been thoroughly prosecuted would they investigate the tunnel.133
These reflections were exchanged among them as they proceeded. Suddenly the air, which had been remarkably fresh, although earthy-smelling, became cleaner. All felt they were approaching an exit. The next moment Tom Barnum stumbled and fell forward.
134CHAPTER XVRESCUE AT HAND
For a moment Tom could be heard muttering rueful exclamations as he caressed his bruises. Jack who was next in line was trying to help him to his feet. His foot, too, struck an obstruction which caused him to lose balance. To avoid falling on Tom, he put out his arms toward the walls. Instead of meeting solid brickwork as before, however, he felt his hands encounter crumbling earth. He lurched forward, and his face was buried in a mass of mould.
Spluttering and blowing, he scrabbled around and his fingers closed over a root. It came away in his clutch. The next moment a slide of earth cascaded downward and Jack found himself leaning against a bank of dirt, an uprooted bush in one hand, and a patch of moonlight and sky overhead.
It was all clear. Where the tunnel approached close to the surface, the roof and walls had caved in. Tom had stumbled over this mound and fallen, and135Jack accidentally had torn away the screen of bushes obscuring the hole above.
“Come on, fellows,” he cried, delightedly, scrambling upward, while Tom Barnum, who had regained his feet and observed how the land lay, boosted him; “come on, here’s a place to get out of the tunnel.”
Quickly the others followed. They stood in the midst of a grove of trees. Some distance to the rear twinkled lights which indicated the location of the Brownell house. No sounds of pursuit reached them. But, stay. What was that? Captain Folsom bent down, his ear close to the opening whence they had climbed out and up to the surface.
“They’ve found the tunnel, I’m afraid,” he said. “They are coming.”
“Can’t we keep ’em back here?” said Bob, unexpectedly. “We can kick more dirt down into the tunnel. And we can jump down and heave out a lot of those fallen bricks, and so keep the gang back when they arrive.”
“But we couldn’t keep up a defense like that forever,” objected Jack. “Some of them would be bound to go back through the tunnel, swing around, and attack us from the rear. They have weapons, and we haven’t. We’d be caught between two fires.”
Bob grunted.136
“Guess you’re right. But I hate all this running away. I’d like to take a crack at them. Never gave me a fair chance the first time, jumping on me in a gang, and when I had my back turned, too.”
“I know how you feel, Bob,” said Jack. “But, without weapons, run we must. And we had better be quick about it now, too. They won’t be long working through that tunnel, if they have lights.”
“No, the shouts are growing closer,” said Captain Folsom, bending down again to the hole. “But, look here, Hampton, you make a run to that radio station which I see above the trees there, to the right, in that opening. We’ll stay here until they reach the hole. Then we’ll batter them with bricks, and flee to the left. That will create a diversion, and give you a chance to try to raise Lieutenant Summers.”
“Good idea,” grunted Bob, immediately dropping into the hole and tossing out broken bricks from the crumbling walls.
“Don’t let them get too close to you,” warned Jack. “They’re armed. And run toward home. They won’t follow far. I’ll rejoin you somewhere along the beach beyond the boundary fence, if you wait for me.”
“We’ll wait, if they don’t make us run too far,” promised Captain Folsom. “In that case, make your137way home. And if you cannot get Lieutenant Summers by radio, don’t endanger yourself by delaying too long around here. Now go.”
With a nod of understanding, Jack turned and darted down the forest aisles toward the radio station.
Who would he find there? He wondered. Or, would the station be deserted? That it was in working order, there was no doubt, for it was the station’s issue of radio control to the liquor containers offshore which they had overheard before deciding to investigate.
Clutching the big butcher knife, the only weapon in the party, which Frank had pressed into his hand as he set out on his lonely mission, Jack dashed ahead recklessly through the trees. The radio plant of the smugglers burst full on his sight, as he came to the edge of the trees fringing a little clearing. No lights showed. Nevertheless, he paused to reconnoitre, asking himself how best to approach it to avoid discovery in case it should have an occupant.
As he stood there, a sudden outburst of shouts to the rear, followed by a few revolver shots, warned him the pursuers had reached the hole in the tunnel. He hoped big Bob was controlling his recklessness, and not running into danger. If his friends kept down, there was no great danger of their being shot,138for only one man at a time could approach through the tunnel and him they could pelt into retreat with their bricks.
The shots ceased. The shouts died. Jack grinned in satisfaction. The enemy had been halted. Now, if his friends only utilized their opportunity to hurry away before being attacked from the rear, all would be well. He listened with strained attention. No further sounds of combat reached him.
Meanwhile, he had been examining the ground. The moon was low down. What time had they left home? Two o’clock? By the look of the moon it must be near four now. That would be about right. Although it seemed a lifetime, although an excess of excitement had been crowded into that period, still only about two hours had elapsed.
Having the door of the radio station in full view, and observing no signs of life, as would have been the case providing some one had been present, for he would have been drawn to the door by this new and closer outburst of fighting, Jack decided to chance crossing the glade directly.
Darting ahead, he crouched listening, heard nothing, then flung wide the door which opened outward and sprang back. The moonlight fell full inside a long bar of light. The sending room, at least, was empty. Now for the power plant.139
Jack entered, going warily, knife clutched in his hand, despite his growing confidence that he had the place to himself. There was a door at the rear. Behind that must be the power plant. He set his ear to the door. Only the low hum of a dynamo came to his ears. He had expected that, for wiring glimpsed outside the Brownell house and leading in this direction through the trees had indicated the house current was supplied from the power house here. But was anyone in that other room, in attendance?
There was a key in the connecting door. He tried the handle softly. The door was locked. Good. At least he would be safe from surprise from that quarter. All the while, in order to guard against surprise from the outside, he had been standing sideways, one eye on the outer door. Now something glimpsed there surprised an exclamation from him.
It was not that anyone appeared in the doorway. No, but offshore and not far distant a bright searchlight suddenly cut athwart the night, putting the moonlight to shame. It swung in a wide arc across the sky and then came down to the shore and began moving relentlessly along the beach.
He could not follow its movements fully. He could not see whence it came. The grove of trees140intervening between the shore of Starfish Cove and the radio plant cut off complete view. But a wild hope leaped into his mind. Would the smugglers in the liquor ship offshore be likely to show a light? He did not consider it likely. Then, what sort of ship was it probable the light came from?
“By George,” he said aloud, “maybe that’s a boat of the ‘Dry Navy’ already on the track of these scoundrels.”
He stood, gazing at that finger of light, spellbound. What else could the ship be that would be casting a searchlight along the shore, along this particular stretch of shore of all places, and at this particular time, what else could it be than a government boat?
Breaking the spell that bound him, he sprang to the instrument table, seized and adjusted a headpiece, pulled a transmitter to him, threw over the rheostat and adjusting the tuner to the 575 meter wave length which Captain Folsom had told him the government boats employed, he began calling. What should he say if a government boat replied? He decided on a plan of procedure.
Presently his receivers crackled, and he manipulated the controls until the sputtering ceased, when he heard a voice saying:
“U. S. Revenue Cutter Nark. Who is calling?”141
Scarcely able to control his excitement at this almost unbelievable good luck, Jack stammered in reply. Then getting a grip on his emotions, he replied:
“Speaking for Captain Folsom. Is Lieutenant Summers aboard? Are you offshore?”
“We’re offshore, all right,” answered his correspondent, in a tone of the utmost surprise. “But how in the world do you know?”
“I want to speak to Lieutenant Summers,” answered Jack, grinning to himself at the other’s bewilderment. Even at this crucial moment, he could not resist the temptation to mystify the other a little. “As to knowing you’re offshore,” he added, “I can see you.”
“See us? Say, this is too much for me. Wait till I call Lieutenant Summers,” said the other. “Did you say Captain Folsom?”
“That’s the name,” said Jack. “Hurry, please. This is a matter of life and death.”
Almost at once another voice took up the conversation, and from the tone of crisp authority, Jack sensed it must be the officer he had asked for speaking. Such, indeed, was the case. Lieutenant Summers was aboard the Nark, directing operations, and, as the radio room was in the chart house of the cutter, he had intervened on hearing his operator142mention his own name and that of his colleague, Captain Folsom.
“Now, what’s this all about?” he demanded. “Is Captain Folsom there? If so, put him on the phone.”
“Are you Lieutenant Summers, sir?” asked Jack, respectfully.
“I am. Who are you? Where are you calling from? Where is Captain Folsom?”
“He’s not here,” said Jack, “but I am speaking for him. He’s in grave danger ashore. Moreover, he wanted me to call for you, and if you are offshore near Starfish Cove—that’s a little bay far down the south shore of Long Island—and if it’s your ship that is playing a searchlight on the beach, then it’s a miracle, sir. I’ll try to explain.”
Briefly as possible, then, Jack detailed the necessary facts for putting Lieutenant Summers in touch with the situation.
“Good,” said Lieutenant Summers, in conclusion; “very good, indeed. We have received a tip liquor was to be landed somewhere along this coast to-night, and were scouting when you saw our light. It’s a piece of luck, as you say. Do you think our searchlight has been seen by these rascals?”
“Probably,” said Jack, “although I don’t know. Captain Folsom and my friends may have kept them143so busily engaged, they had no time to keep a lookout at sea.”
“Well, I’ll throw off the searchlight at once, anyhow. We want no advertising. I’ll come in close and land my boats. Can you be at the beach to guide us?”
“I’ll be there,” replied Jack.
“Very well. We’re about a mile offshore. We should land in fifteen minutes. Good-bye.”
Jack took off the headpiece, threw the rheostat back to zero, and looked about him, as if dazed.
He could hardly believe his luck.
144CHAPTER XVIBOB REDEEMS HIMSELF
After Jack’s departure the group which he left at the tunnel exit worked busily making what preparations were possible to receive their pursuers. Big Bob, who had jumped down into the opening, kept tossing out bricks at a furious rate, and Frank joined him and did likewise. Meanwhile, by the light of his matches, aided by the moonlight, which here in the woods, however, was not direct enough to be of any great help, Tom Barnum investigated the ground about the hole.
“As soon as the boys get out o’ there,” he reported to Captain Folsom, “we can all four of us kick down enough dirt to block up the tunnel pretty well. The earth is loose around here. That must’a been a recent cave-in. By yanking up some o’ these bushes I already loosened the soil some more.”
“Very good,” said Captain Folsom, who had been listening closely to the sounds coming through the tunnel. “They’re getting too close for comfort. I145agree with you in believing this must have been a recent cave-in. I believe it is unsuspected by the enemy. They are coming along through that tunnel and making plenty of noise, as if they expected to have a considerable distance to go and fancied us pretty far ahead.”
“We’ll give ’em a surprise,” said Tom, grinning. The watchman-mechanic of the Hampton radio plant was still a young man. He had served in France. And he was enjoying the situation.
“Come out now, Temple. And you, Merrick,” said Captain Folsom, in a whisper. “To stay any longer would be only to expose yourselves needlessly. You have thrown out a lot of ammunition, as it is. Besides,” he added, as he and Tom helped the others climb to the surface, “we want to kick down this dirt to block the tunnel.”
The others followed Tom to the lip of the cave-in, overhanging the tunnel, and, exercising care to avoid tumbling in, succeeded in kicking down sufficient earth to more than half fill the opening. Little more than a foot of open space remained, after uprooted bushes had been thrown down on top of the earth.
Working feverishly and in a silence broken only by the dull sounds of the falling dirt, they had completed their task when the nearer approach of voices and of stumbling footfalls within the tunnel warned146them to desist. Bob and Frank on one side of the slight opening, Captain Folsom and Tom Barnum on the other, they threw themselves prone on the ground. The bricks had been divided into two piles, one by the side of each pair.
They were none too soon. Barely had they taken their positions when the first man of the pursuers, proceeding without a light, stumbled against the dirt they had kicked down, and fell forward into the tangle of uprooted bushes. He let out a wild yell:
“Murder. Save me.”
Bob raised himself on one hand, craned forward, took good aim at the hole, and let drive with a chunk of broken brick. There was a crack, a howl of anguish, succeeded by an outbreak of curses, as, following Bob’s example, his companions also poured in a fire of brickbats from each side.
Several scattered revolver shots rang out, but, as all again had thrown themselves prone on the ground, the bullets sped harmlessly overhead. After waiting a moment, Bob again let drive with a piece of brick. That his aim was good was attested by a howl of anguish, succeeded this time not by more shots but by a scurrying sound of retreat. Evidently, the one or two men in the forefront had had enough, and had withdrawn into the tunnel.
By holding their breath and listening intently, they147could, in fact, hear sounds of scuffling that indicated a considerable number of men were within the tunnel and were moving backward on each other to get away from the danger zone.
Suddenly to Bob’s ears came the sound of a faint groan, not a foot from his head, it seemed to him, as he lay on the very edge of the hole, straining to listen. It startled him, but at once he realized whence it came. One of the pursuers, perhaps the man who had stumbled first into their barricade, must have been knocked out by a missile, and was coming to. Then Bob had a wild idea.
Rising to his knees, he peered down into the hole, descried a dark, round object just below him which he took to be the head of a man, and bracing himself with one arm, plunged the other into the hole.
Then, while Frank gasped and Tom Barnum swore softly, from the opposite side, in wondering admiration, the big fellow rose to his feet and with a mighty tug pulled an inert body clear through the hole. One look at the face was sufficient for identification despite the blood streaming from an ugly gash over the right temple. It was the man called Mike. His eyelids were fluttering. He was recovering consciousness.
“Quick, some of you,” gasped Bob, retaining his hold of the body, and holding the fellow up as a148fisherman lifts up his catch to admire it; “search him. Get his revolver.”
Frank sprang to obey, being the nearest. Running his hands up and down the man’s body, he was met only with disappointment. But then he felt something bulky at the belt. It was a revolver in a holster. Stripping off the weapon, he once more ran his hands over the fellow’s body and, in a trousers’ pocket, found a handful of bullets, which he abstracted.
Mike now began to squirm, and lash out with his heels.
“Got them?” gasped Bob.
“Yes,” said Frank. “Searched him twice.”
“Then back with you, Mister Mike,” said Bob, dropping the other back into the hole. “We want no prisoners on our hands. And, listen,” he added, “we’ve got your revolver. Just tell that to your friends if they get inquisitive and want to follow us.”
A curse was his answer. Then they could hear Mike start to scramble back through the tunnel, and to call to his mates.
“My boy,” said Captain Folsom, “I want to tell you that was one of the quickest bits of work I’ve ever seen. You certainly have put a different complexion on matters.”149
“Oh, that was just a bit of luck,” said Bob. “When I heard him groan, it came to me all in a flash what to do.”
“Look here,” interrupted Frank, “thanks to Bob, we have stalled off pursuit. Besides, we have a revolver now. I don’t feel like running off and leaving Jack. The way things have turned out, we can get away without being discovered, anyhow, so we wouldn’t be drawing anybody away from Jack’s trail if we did go in the opposite direction. Let’s run for it before they get a chance to circle back through the tunnel and house, but head for the radio station instead of home. What say?”
“Right,” said Captain Folsom. “You chaps certainly know how to use your heads. Come on.”
And swinging about, he started running through the trees in the direction taken by Jack a few short minutes before.
They had not gone far, however, before another volley of revolver shots broke out behind them.
“That’s at the tunnel again,” said Captain Folsom, pausing to listen. “They must realize that we wouldn’t stay there, so, although they will be cautious, it won’t be long before they come out of the tunnel.”
“Yes,” said Frank, “and some of them have gotten150out already, and are coming down from the house.”
For, as he spoke, from farther back in the woods bullets began to fly. The party from the house was shooting as they came.
“I don’t think they’ve seen us yet,” said Bob. “The moon is pretty low down and these trees are thick. Anyhow, they wouldn’t expect us to take this course, as it is away from our home. Come on.”
The shrubbery was less dense now, thinning out, as they neared the clearing in which the radio station was located. Dashing ahead, they cleared the last of the trees and started across the clearing. As they drew nearer the station, heading for the doorway, where the outward-swinging door stood open, Jack saw the four figures in the moonlight and, believing them foes, sprang up from the seat by the instrument table, and dashed out to try to escape.
Running at top speed as he hit the sand, he started in the opposite direction. Bob, however, had an advantage Jack did not possess. He was looking for Jack at the station, and was quick to recognize the familiar figure. Jack, not expecting his friends here, naturally considered the approaching figures those of some of the smugglers.
“Hey, Jack, it’s us,” Bob called.
Jack knew that voice. There was no mistake.151He paused, dumbfounded, and spun about. Then he started to retrace his steps. The others, pretty well blown, slowed down their pace. As they approached, Jack called:
“I wasn’t looking for you, and thought you some of the other fellows. How did you happen to change your plans and come here?”
Frank started to explain.
But this was not time for explanations. Paddy Ryan, heading a dozen of his men, had seen the four fleeing through the woods and followed. At this moment the pursuers reached the edge of the clearing. The first intimation which any of the five, engrossed in their meeting, had of the near approach of the enemy, was an outburst of bullets, some of which sang unpleasantly close while others kicked up the sand around them. None, however, took effect.
Where the others had come up with Jack was near a corner of the radio plant. All leaped for cover behind it. With a yell of triumph, Paddy Ryan jumped out into the clearing, his men at his heels.
Frank, who carried the captured revolver and spare ammunition taken from the man called Mike, realized it was distinctly up to him to halt the enemy, if possible. He did not want to shoot to kill,152although he knew that the others had no such compunctions, especially since Higginbotham must be aware that if they escaped he would be a ruined man, as they would be able to identify him. Nevertheless, the emergency demanded action.
All this passed through his mind in a twinkling. Then he peered out from behind the shelter of the radio station, took deliberate aim, and fired. The leading figure, that of Paddy Ryan, stumbled, lurched forward and fell. Some of the others in the pursuing party paused, others came on. Once more Frank fired. A second man, the foremost, fell. It was sufficient to deter the others. While some ran back helter-skelter for the shelter of the woods, others threw themselves prone in the sand, and began to shoot from that position.
“I shot them in the legs,” said Frank.
His voice trembled. His legs felt weak, his hands numb. It was with an effort he refrained from dropping the revolver. Like his chums, Frank was a crack shot, for Mr. Temple early had accustomed them to the use of rifle and shotgun, and the previous summer in New Mexico Tom Bodine, their cowboy friend, had given all three valuable instructions in revolver shooting. Nevertheless, to take deliberate aim at a human being was unnerving. It was only the realization that the safety of his comrades hung153on his aim that had nerved him to the task and steeled his arm.
“Steady, old thing,” said Bob, patting him on the shoulder. Then, turning to Captain Folsom, he added: “Well, captain, where do we go from here? We’ve got all Long Island ahead of us. I expect we had better start traveling.”
“Not at all, Bob,” said Jack, unexpectedly. “If we can only hold these fellows off a few minutes more, they’ll get the surprise of their lives. I raised Lieutenant Summers by radio. He was close offshore by the greatest of good luck. He’s sending a landing party in boats, and I was to meet them at the beach and act as guide.”