Without another word the detective departed from the cabin; a little distance across the sand he saw a figure. He recognized Renie and went toward her.
"I did not know you," said the girl.
"You may not know me the next time we meet."
"This is wonderful."
"I am a detective, I have made a study of the art of disguise; my success and my safety ofttimes depend upon my skill in changing my appearance at a moment's notice; but now, let me thank you for saving my life!"
"Saving your life!"
"Yes."
"It was for me you put your life in jeopardy."
"No, no, I am carrying out my own designs."
"You saved me from that man Garcia!"
"And you saved me from being hanged by those men."
"You will leave the coast now?"
"Leave the coast?"
"Yes."
"Well, I reckon not. I've just got down to business."
"You will be discovered; you will be in worse peril as the Government detective than you were as the supposed assailant of my father."
"I can take care of myself."
"And you will remain?"
"I will remain."
"You invite your doom."
"Well, well, I've often done the same thing before; I am in the way of duty. Renie, understand me, I am your friend. I will risk anything to guard you from evil, but it is my duty to break up this gang of smugglers, and I shall do my duty at any cost!"
"But I have betrayed you."
"Yes, I know all about it; your betrayal was not intentional; you are a brave noble girl! tell me, are you in any way connected with the smugglers?"
"I am not."
"Then fear nothing."
"But my father?"
"Your father is not actively engaged as a smuggler now, and I will not get him into trouble, but I must do my duty, and now answer me frankly, are you against me?"
"How against you?"
"I have decided to remain and do my duty, I am the enemy of the gang! Are you their friend? Will you stand between me and them?"
"Never! but I know you will never leave the coast alive! those men will not rest day or night until they run you down, and I cannot aid you, as I have already earned their enmity, and they have demanded that I be sent away!"
"That is all right."
"The girl laughed and said:
"It is easy enough to say 'that is all right,' but where shallI go?"
"Go with Tom Pearce."
"Tom Pearce will not leave the coast."
"Yes, he will."
"Did he tell you so?"
"No, but I will persuade him. I will show him very soon that it is best for him to go. He will go, never fear!"
"You will never persuade him."
"I will use an argument you do not dream of, my, girl; and now, mark me, I am your friend. I have promised to solve the mystery surrounding your commission to the care of the Pearces many years ago. I will learn all about you, I will find the box."
"What box?"
The detective smiled as he remembered that the girl knew nothing about the box, and he said:
"Ah, that is a way we detectives have of speaking! the secret of your life is boxed somewhere, we would say, and I will unravel the mystery."
"Why should you take such an interest in me?"
"Did you not save my life?"
"But did you not imperil your life in my behalf?"
"No; I was in the way of duty when I fell into the hands of the smugglers under such peculiar circumstances; but never mind, we will not discuss that matter. I have seen fit to make you a promise, and I will make my promise good."
"Never! if you decide to remain on the coast."
"I shall remain! and now, Renie, as we are friends, let us arrange so as to guard against future perils. I may appear here under many disguises, it is necessary for both of us that you should always know and recognize me; but you must never betray your recognition; to you in the presence of others I must always be a stranger; your safety and my own demands it, but all will come out right in the end."
"Never! Never! those men will kill you!"
"I shall go to sea with those men before to-morrow's sunset."
"You will never return."
"Oh, yes I will; and now listen."
The detective proceeded and arranged a number of secret signs and signals with the girl. He instructed her in a private finger code, and found her a ready and apt scholar. He gave her also a written chart for future study, telling her that if she mastered it, they could converse in the presence of others, and none would be the wiser.
Having concluded his instructions, he said:
"Go now to your father. I may not see you for two or three days, but always be on your guard."
"Against whom?"
"Garcia."
"Do you think he will dare return?"
"That man may have secret agents among the smugglers."
"None of the men would betray me to him."
"We cannot tell what money may accomplish; but I do not anticipate danger for a few days, or I would not leave, you; still you must be on your guard."
"Where go you now?"
"To Rigby's."
"To Rigby's?" ejaculated the girl.
"Yes; why not?"
"You go at your peril!"
The detective laughed and said:
"Never fear for me; good-night!"
Without waiting to listen to further words of warning the detective walked rapidly away.
Renie returned to the cabin; the girl was disturbed and thoughtful. The dream of her lonely life was opening up to her, but alas! the picture was fringed with dark surroundings.
Upon entering the cabin the girl was addressed by her father, who asked:
"Renie, what do you think of that fellow?"
"He is a mysterious man, father, but he appears to be friendly to us."
"He has spoken nothing but the truth, so far, my child.Garcia is a villain! it was he who assailed me."
"How was it he came to assail you, father?"
"My child, that man has designs against you; it is time that I told you all I know concerning yourself!"
"Do so, father."
The old smuggler proceeded and related to Renie all that he had told to Garcia, and also stated the Cuban's proposition.
The girl was silent, but deeply interested, and the onethought that ran through her mind was the knowledge thatSpencer Vance had overheard the revelation when made toGarcia.
The old man had just concluded his narrative when an intruder walked into the cabin.
A reckless gang of men were assembled in the low tavern kept my a man named Rigby.
The latter was a remarkable man. He kept a low seashore resort, a place where fishermen and the roughest sort of men gathered, and yet he was a man of considerable education and a great deal of cunning, and coined more good money in this little seaside tavern then did other rumsellers who occupied saloons in the great city, that cost thousands to fit up and decorate.
Rigby was too cunning and careful to be a smuggler himself, but he was also cunning enough to "scoop in" the major portion of the earnings of the men engaged in the perilous trade.
It was only when the business had grown to large proportions that the Government organized a regular plan for its suppression; and at the time our story opens, the play between the smugglers and the Government agents was at its finest point. It was well known that there were parties in New York who had, and were still realizing immense sums of money by cheating the Government of its legitimate revenue.
The Collector of the Port did not care so much about the crews of the vessels, it was the owners and capitalists he was seeking to trail down.
The smugglers had given over the search for Spencer Vance, and in parties of twos and threes, had gathered at Rigby's, until at least fifteen or twenty men were assembled. They were all smugglers and members of the crew of the smuggler yacht "Nancy."
As intimated in our opening chapters, the men ostensibly were fishermen, and their boat was stated to be a fishing-boat; and to lend color to the claim, the men did go off between times on fishing expeditions, and the latter little trick had been their best "blind" and "throw off."
Again, as intimated in our former chapters, three Government officers had mysteriously disappeared, and the duty had devolved upon the Government officials not only to stay the illegal traffic, but to ferret out and bring to punishment the murderers of the missing detectives.
There was no actual proof, however, that the men were murdered; as far as the Government officials were advisedly concerned, the detectives were merely missing. It was reported by some "Smart Alec" that the detectives had been put on outgoing vessels bound for some distant port, and that in good season they would turn up, and then again there was the chance that the officers might have met with accidents in their perilous undertaking.
Spencer Vance, however, was fully satisfied in his own mind that his brother officers had been murdered. He knew too well that tragic events are of constant occurrence which never come to light; tragedies so terrible that were the details to be known, a thrill of horror would go throughout the whole land.
There are horrors enough that do become public, but there are as many more that never come to the surface.
The men, as stated, gathered at Rigby's; they had just returned from a search for Spencer Vance.
There was no doubt in their minds as to the truth of the report that he was a spy in their midst. The fact that he had declined to go out on the yacht that night was to them proof as clear as "Holy Writ" that he was a Government officer.
It was important to catch him and put him out of the way as soon as possible, as there were several very valuable shipments on the way to New York, and chances favored the men for making quite large sums of money.
Our readers must not understand that the vessel engaged in the smuggling business carried no other freight; the goods intended to be smuggled in was but a small part of their cargo, but amounted on each vessel to enough to yield enormous profits to the capitalists as well as to the actual smuggler crews.
One of the men, as he drunk off a glass of grog, remarked:
"Boys, it's a cold day for us that the fellow should have received a warning; it's money out of our pockets!"
There was a one-eyed, ugly visaged fellow sitting off in a corner of the room, who remarked:
"You lads will see colder days yet; you may say the business is all up, and we'd better take the 'Nancy' over to the mackerel banks and work for a few honest pennies."
"What makes you say that, Jake?"
"I'm only telling yer the truth; yer a chicken-hearted lot, and losing all yer game; for what? the pretty face of a she-devil!"
Too well the men all understood one-eyed Jake's savage suggestion.
"You don't think," said one of them, "that the gal is dead against us?"
"Well, I think she is as dead against us as a few dollars in gold can make a female who's fond of gewgaws, and ambitious to be a fine lady."
"Do you mean to say Renie receives money?"
"Well, I don't think bad enough of the gal to say she'd go agin us for fun. I tell you, boys, the thing is dead agin us unless the gal is silenced!"
The men all entered loud protests; the girl was a great favorite yet with most of them, as she had grown up in their midst.
"Oh, I expected you'd growl when you learned the truth, and it's the gal or us—, as you all think so much of the gal, I propose we lay provision in the 'Nancy,' and go off after mackerel.
"What would you propose, Jake?"
"I propose sending the gal away."
"You would do her no harm?"
"I wouldn't harm a hair of her head; but she's doing us a good deal of harm all the same."
"It's already been suggested to Tom Pearce to send the gal away."
"He'll never do it!"
"But he must."
"It's all right to say he must; but who'll make old Tom Pearce do a thing when he's made up his mind that he won't?"
"What would you propose?"
"I'd propose that we smuggle the gal."
"How smuggle her?"
"Take her out on the 'Nancy,' and put her aboard some outgoing vessel as a passenger."
"That wouldn't do, Jake."
"Then let's go mackerel-fishing, for the other trade is knocked dead in the head."
The men were all drinking, and became more or less excited under the influence of the liquor.
Jake was a bad fellow at heart, but he was one of the most daring men in the crew of jolly smugglers and the men had great confidence in his judgment.
"I tell you, boys, the gal must be disposed of, or she'll give information right; just see how we stand now; there's a boat due, there's a big haul for us, and this man has been in our midst for two weeks or more, and he's got all the points and—" The man's further speech was interrupted by the entrance of a stranger.
The man who suddenly entered in the midst of the speech of one-eyed Jake was Ballard, the man whom an hour or two previously that very gang of men had set to hang.
The crew of the "Nancy" gazed at the new-comer in astonishment, and a wicked gleam shone in the single eye of Jake.
"You're cheeky, stranger, to walk in here after what's just happened!"
The disguised detective laughed in a pleasant manner, and answered:
"That's just why I'm here; you fellows ought to be glad to see me knocking around alive, when you think how bad you would have felt had you swung me over the spar."
"We've no fancy for strangers around here!"
"We'll a man who's been following the sea all his life should not be a stranger among you fellows."
"Where have you sailed, stranger?"
"Better ask where I haven't sailed, and it won't take so long to pay out the information."
There was an off hand, jolly sort of style about the stranger which rather pleased the gang of smugglers.
"What brought you down this way?"
"I've been off for five years, and when I'm off on a voyage I'm clean gone; all the doors are closed behind me. I never get any letters, and I never send any, so it's all news to me when I come in from the sea; and I came down here to see my mother's cousin."
"Who is your mother's cousin, stranger?"
"Well, you fellows are running down close into a strange craft; my relative was old Aunt Betsy, Tom Pearce's wife."
"She's dead!"
"Well, so I know now; and I came near being sent after her; but all's well that ends well, so come, all hands, and have a little throat burner with me."
The men were all glad enough to step up and take a snifter with the stranger, who after so long a voyage they reckoned must have a pocketful of the wherewithal.
We will not go further into the details of the methods pursued by the detective to worm himself into the confidence of the smugglers; it is sufficient to say that within two hours after his appearance in their midst he had won all their hearts.
Our readers can form some idea of the wonderful skill, coolness, and daring of the detective, who within twenty-four hours walked under a new disguise right into the midst of a gang of desperate men, who, had they recognized him as he was known but a few hours previously, would have killed him as they would have slain a venomous serpent.
A number of the men fell into a regular carouse with the detective; among them was Ike Denman, the captain of the yacht "Nancy." Indeed, the men got into a game of cards, and Ballard lost like a little man and stood his ill luck with such marvelous good nature, the men fell right to him.
When it was well into the morning, the game broke up, and Denman invited the detective to go aboard the yacht and bunk for the night.
Our hero gladly accepted the invitation; and when once aboard, as it was a pleasant morning, the two even lay out upon the deck, and Denman became quite confidential. He let the detective into the secret of the real business of the crew of the yacht, and told him that daily they were expecting a schooner from the West Indies with a big cargo for them.
"How do you run it ashore?" asked the detective, innocently.
"Make a trip with us and we'll show you how the thing is done; the fact is I'm a man or two short, and if you want to take a rake in with us you're welcome."
"That's just the ticket for me!" answered Spencer Vance.
Our readers must understand that the detective had been wonderfully diplomatic and cute to so readily, worm himself into the confidence of Ike Denman.
The men at length went to sleep and slept far into the morning. Ike Denman was the first to awake, seemingly, but in reality the detective had been on the alert all the time.
The master of the "Nancy" was quite a different man in the morning when burning under the after-effects of liquor than he was when in the full fever of a jolly spell. As he opened his eyes and saw our hero stretched upon the deck, he gave him a lunge in the ribs, and as Vance opened his eyes, Denman exclaimed:
"Hello! what are you snoozing there for, old man?"
The detective was on his feet in a moment.
"Who are you, and what are you doing here?"
Denman appeared to have forgotten who our hero was, but in reality he was only pretending to forget.
Denman was a good sailor, and a very cunning man; but at heart he was a very ugly and desperate fellow, and not at all distinguished by any of the generous traits usually characteristic of jolly tars.
"What's the matter, captain?"
"What's the matter? I'm asking you who you are, and what you are doing here?"
The detective came a little nearer, and assumed a surprised air.
"Don't stand there, making sober faces. Who are you, and what are you doing here?"
Denman was conscious that he was given to talking too much when in his cups, and he was leading the new hand on to betray just how much had been revealed to him.
"You shipped me last night, captain."
"I shipped you last night?"
"Yes; but if you don't want me as one of your crew, I'm willing."
"Who are you, anyhow?"
"My name is Ballard. I told you who I was last night."
"What did you tell me?"
"See here, captain, it ain't necessary to go over all that passed between us last night. If you don't wart to take me on with you, say so, and I'll get ashore."
Denman laughed in a merry manner, and said:
"I reckon it's all right."
"I can prove it's all right, captain."
"How so?"
Ballard ran his eye over the yacht's rigging, and said:
"Would you take any suggestions from a man who had plenty of experience in crafts of this sort?"
"I would; yes."
The detective who really was a splendid seaman, made some very pertinent and useful suggestions, and Denman was just sailor enough to appreciate that he had secured a useful man; and he said:
"It's all right. Consider yourself shipped. You're just the man I want; and we'll get to work at once on your alterations."
The suggestions were such as could easily be carried out by the master and his crew, and soon all hands were busy.
It had been decided that the yacht would go to sea that night, and our hero was booked for the trip.
Spencer Vance had played his cards well. He improved every moment in making himself popular with the crew, and late in the afternoon, when all hands went ashore, he was the hero of the gang. In an offhand manner the detective remarked, as the boat was run on the beach:
"I'll see you later, boys; I'm going over for a bit to look after Tom Pearce."
Spencer Vance had proceeded but a short distance, when he saw the figure of a girl coming across the sand, and his astonishment was great, when, upon a nearer approach, he recognized Renie.
The girl was neatly dressed, and her feet were covered with dainty slippers, while her hair was tastefully arranged.
Our hero had been impressed with the girl's rare beauty upon beholding her barefooted in her loose gown and unkempt hair; but, as he gazed upon her face when arrayed in neat and well-fitting attire, his admiration was increased.
Renie was indeed a rarely lovely girl—yes, upon those sands he had come upon one of the most beautiful girls he had ever beheld—classically beautiful; not pretty, but, as we write it, rarely beautiful, and she had been reared in a fisherman's cabin.
There was a certain suggestion in the girl's appearance before him in her best attire, that caused a glow of satisfaction around the detective's heart.
There was nothing rich nor elegant in her apparel, but she was so exquisitely lovely her beauty could not be hidden by clothing, no matter how plain. The girl greeted the detective in a frank, open manner, and appeared greatly pleased to meet him. "I expected you to return to the cabin," she said.
"No; I spent the evening with the crew."
"You did not go in the yacht?"
"Yes, I did."
"Oh, why do you take such risks?"
"Never mind about the risk; how is your father?"
"He appears to be all right. He is up and around."
"What does he say about the assault?"
"He has said nothing since last night."
"Has he expressed any determination as to his course?"
"No."
"Well, you must be on your guard, and when I return from my trip, I will have a proposition to make."
"When you return from your trip?"
"Yes."
"Where are you going?"
"I am going off in the yacht."
"This must not be. No, no, you must not go off in the yacht, it will be certain death!"
"I have spent the night with the crew of the 'Nancy,' and they all think me a splendid fellow, and none of them has the least suspicion of my real identity."
"Was Sol Burton present?"
"No."
"Then you must not go on the yacht."
"What has the presence of Sol Burton to do with my going or staying?"
"I believe that man has penetrated your disguise."
"Impossible!"
"I saw him this morning."
"Well?"
"He asked eked me some strange questions. He was very curious concerning your identity."
A shadow fell over the detective's face.
"He spoke about me?"
"Yes."
"But he was speaking of the Government detective?"
"No; he was speaking of you as you have appeared among them in your present guise."
"Does he suspect my real identity."
"I do not know, but he was very inquisitive concerning you."
"What did he say?"
"He lay in wait for me this morning, and when he got an opportunity he asked: 'Renie, who is that man the boys were going to hang last night?'"
"What answer slid you make?"
"I answered: 'You know as well as I do;' when he exclaimed:'You can't fool me, Renie, you have met that man before.'"
The detective was thoughtful a moment, but at length said:
"I reckon that fellow would be jealous of anyone whom you might address."
"There was a deeper significance in his declaration, and as he went away he said: 'I would not be surprised Renie, if that fellow were to be hanged yet, before another sunrise!'"
"His talk is all buncome, Renie, you need not attach any importance to anything he may say."
"But you will not go off in the yacht?"
"Yes; I shall go!"
A pallor overspread the girl's face, and a look of expressive sadness shone in her eyes as she murmured,
"It is my fate!"
"What do you mean, child?"
"I mean that you are a real friend; you are he of whom I dreamed."
The detective glanced at the girl with an expression of aroused curiousness as he said:
"You dreamed of me?"
"Yes."
"This is very strange. What could have suggested such a dream?"
"I have dreamed all my life that some good friend would come some day and unravel the mystery of my parentage. It was accident that brought you and me together; but I had come to believe, although I have only known you for a few hours, that you were the good angel who would open the sealed book."
The detective advanced close to the girl, fixed his eyes upon her, and, while a bright flush reddened his cheek, he said, in an earnest tone:
"And so I will, Renie!"
"No, no; you have only come to raise a false hope."
"You are a strange girl, Renie."
"Yes, I am a strange girl in your eyes; but there is nothing strange about me. Mv surroundings make me appear so. Listen: I long for other scenes and associations; there is nothing that holds me to my present life. I know there is someone somewhere who longs for me as I yearn for her."
"Your mother?"
"Yes, my mother."
"If your mother be alive, it shall be my good office to bring mother and child together."
"Never."
"Why do you say never?"
"You are determined to go off on the yacht?"
"Yes, I shall go off on the yacht."
"We will never meet again."
"You take too gloomy a view of the situation."
"I know well the character of the crew of the 'Nancy.'"
"So do I."
A deeper pallor overspread the girl's face, as in a low, husky voice she whispered:
"I believe they are leading you on."
"Leading me on?"
"Yes."
"I do not understand."
"You say you are going off with them?"
"Yes."
"They would not take a stranger off with them unless they had a purpose."
The girl had offered a most startling suggestion.
"The circumstances are peculiar, Renie, and I am a good seaman. I have already proved myself of service to them."
"That does not alter my idea."
"What's your idea?"
"I have a suspicion."
A moment's silence followed, when the detective asked:
"What do you suspect!"
"They have recognized you!"
The few sharp quick words of the girl betrayed volumes. Her suggestion was indeed startling; and, what was more; there was not only a possibility, but a probability that her suspicion was correct.
A silence followed her words, but at length the detective said:
"I shall go off on the yacht, Renie."
"And you will never return!"
"Yes, I shall return."
"Suppose my suspicion is correct, and those men are leading you on?"
"It matters not, Renie, I shall go!"
"Are you madly seeking death?"
"No."
"If those men have recognized you, and are playing a part, there will be no chance for you the moment that yacht crosses the bar on her way out to sea."
The detective on the impulse of the moment, was prompted to ask:
"Suppose they kill me, what will you do, Renie?"
The girl was silent until the detective repeated his question.
"I know what I shall do!"
"What will you do?"
"Roam the beach until all hope of the recovery of your body is passed and then I shall lie down and die." She spoke in a weird, despairing tone.
"And you have known me but a few hours."
"Yes, I have known you to speak to you but a few hours, and yet I have come to believe that all the dreams of my life center in you."
The young man advanced and seized the girl's hand; the latter made no effort to withdraw it from his firm grasp.
"Renie," he said, "you need have no fear, I am not destined to die at the hands of the smugglers. I am assigned to a certain duty, the opportunity to fulfill my mission is now presented. I shall go on the yacht to-night, but when she returns I will return with her!"
"You are determined to go?"
"I am."
"I shall say no more, but I shall watch."
"Yes, Renie, do so; and when the yacht comes sailing up the bay, you may know that I come on her."
"I shall not watch for the return of the yacht," said the girl in a sad, despairing tone.
"What will you do?"
"Wait on the beach to see what the waves will bring me. If, when the deed is done, the tide be flowing in, I may gain something from the waves; but if the tide is on the ebb, I shall never gaze on your face again."
There was no mistaking the girl's weird meaning, and her words were practical, as she well knew the results which under certain circumstances might follow the tidal conditions.
Spencer Vance saw that it was useless to waste further words with Renie and he said,
"A few hours will tell the tale, Renie, and—"
The detective did not complete the sentence; voices were heard and Renie exclaimed:
"You and I must not be seen talking together; farewell, and if we never meet again on earth, may we meet where there are no clouds, no shadows, no mysteries." The girl moved away and left the detective standing alone on the beach. The sun had gone down, the moon was just rising out of the sea, and the whole surrounding scene was impressive and one of solemn grandeur.
The detective stood motionless, and the ceaseless murmur of the waves, as they broke upon the shore sounded like a requiem in his ears; but not once did he waver in his purpose. It might be that Renie would prove a true prophet, and if the tide served right those very waves, or rather their successors, might cast his body upon the shore; but despite all, he was determined to sail on the "Nancy" that night to win or die.
Two hours later there was quite a bustle on board the yacht as she was being prepared to sail away.
The trip of the "Nancy" did not as a rule, exceed ten or fifteen hours, as she only ran twenty or thirty miles directly off the coast, where she cruised around waiting for the signal to flash across the water front some incoming vessel, said signal being an intimation as to the character of the craft.
Ike Denman, as commander of the "Nancy," was a different man from Ike Denman carousing with the crew ashore.
The "Nancy" was what nautical men would call a magnificent craft, and landsmen would naturally dub her a "daisy." She had been built as a sea-going boat, in the most substantial manner, and was indeed a stanch little mistress of the sea.
It was a beautiful evening as the mainsail was hoisted away and the gallant boat glided over the waters of the bay across the bar, and through the ruffled channel out to sea.
The detective had weighed well the words of the beautiful Renie, and was on the watch. Her suggestion was apt, and, as the detective thought over matters, he came to think that certain little indexes pointed toward a confirmation of her suspicions.
Indeed, it was an awful peril he was facing, were it really a fact that the men had "tumbled" to his identity, and were giving him a "blind," leading him, only waiting for the proper moment to cast off their masks and throw him into the sea.
There was one incident in his favor: the men were not at all reserved in the discussion of the business on hand. They talked over the purpose of the night, and opened up their expectations in the most unreserved manner.
The master of the craft, in his orders, made no distinction between our hero and the other members of the crew.
Meantime the boat danced over the waves, and, after an hour or two, was cruising across the track of inward-bound vessels.
Soon there came the announcement of the lights of a vessel, and the "Nancy" was cautiously run on a course which would enable her captain to take observations.
The lights proved to be those of an ocean steamer, and the great leviathan, with its precious freight of human souls, plowed past the taut little yacht distant only half a mile.
When the lights were first seen, the detective was standing forward of the mainmast, and suddenly a pallor overspread his face. If it should prove that the lights were those of an incoming smuggler, the critical moment had arrived for him.
Our hero was intently watching the lights, as were the balance of the crew, waiting for a signal, and so absorbed was he as not to observe the presence of Sol Burton close by his side.
A few moments passed, and the lights were made out, and the word was passed around, "It's a steamer!"
The detective turned to go aft, when he found himself face to face with Sol Burton.
The two men had met as comrades once or twice before, during the two or three hours the boat had been out on the sea, but not a word had passed between them; but as they met after the distinguishing of the lights, Burton addressed our hero and said:
"You're the new man?"
"Yes," was the short answer.
"Your first trip on the 'Nancy?'"
"Yes."
There was a premonition, of danger in the next words of SolBurton.
"I think I've seen you before, Ballard!"
Sol Burton spoke in slow and very distinct tones, and his manner betrayed that there was a deep significance in his declaration.
"If you remember having seen me before, you have the advantage, my good friend."
"I think I've seen you before. I met you on board the'Nancy.'"
"Where?"
"I cannot recall, but there is something in your face that strikes me as very familiar."
The detective laughed in an easy manner, and answered
"Well, you'll have to depend upon your own recollections, I can't aid you to a recognition."
As the detective spoke he remembered Renie's warning words,"Sol Burton, I fear, has his suspicions aroused."
"I noticed you turn pale when we first sighted the lights,Ballard."
"Did you?"
"I did."
Ballard stepped close to Sol Burton, and demanded in a determined tone,
"What are you getting at? I don't like this cross-questioning."
"That's my idea, Ballard. I don't think you like this cross-questioning, and I think further there is a good reason for you not liking it."
"If you've anything to say to me, spit it."
"When did you first show up on the coast?"
"Who are you? What's your name?" retorted Ballard.
"My name is Sol Burton."
"Ah, you are Burton; yes, I've heard about you!"
The detective used the words, "I've heard about you," in a very meaning tone.
"You've heard about me?"
"Yes, I've heard about you," came the response.
"What have you heard about me?"
"Oh, that's all right; your name is Sol Burton. Yes, yes,I've heard about you."
The declaration was reiterated in a tone of more aggravating significance.
"See here, Ballard, I want you to tell me what you mean."
"I've heard about you."
"What have you heard about me?"
"It's all right; I tell you I've heard about you. Yes, yes, your name is Burton; that's the man; I've heard about you."
Our readers can readily understand that the constant repetition of the declaration in a meaning tone was, under the circumstances, very aggravating, and Sol Burton lost his temper, his eyes flashed with anger, and his face became white, as he said:
"If you do not tell me what you mean, I'll knock you down!"
"I reckon you won't knock me down!"
"Will you tell me what you mean?"
"I'll tell you I've heard about you, and so I have; that is enough."
"See here, Ballard, it won't do for you to quarrel with me!"
"I don't care who I quarrel with!"
Burton advanced and whispered:
"I might come 'Quaker' on you, and give you a bad name."
"You can do just as you choose. I am not asking odds of you."
"I've my suspicions of you, Ballard."
Burton spoke in a hoarse whisper; the man was excited and trembling with rage and irritation.
It is possible a tragic denouement might have followed the dialogue, had there not come just at that moment a startling interruption to the impending quarrel.
Again there came the signal cry: "Lights ahead!" and all hands ran eagerly to the rail to study the character of the distant craft.
All was silent watchfulness and expectancy as the two boats approached nearer and nearer across the dark waters. Suddenly there shot up high into the air a rocket and when far toward the clouds, a "bomb burst in air," and there followed a shower of many colored lights.
At once there was great excitement on board the "Nancy." Sol Burton had not stopped to finish his threatening talk with our hero, but all was bustle and excitement and work.
The boats were prepared for launching, and the ship's course was changed, and our hero knew that the, long-expected smuggler had arrived.
Soon the two vessels approached each other; additional signals were exchanged, and the real purpose of the voyage was unfolded.
The smuggler kept upon her course, under close reefed sails, but her crew was busy casting certain curious looking packages into the sea.
The boats from the "Nancy" were launched and manned, and were pulled away toward floating objects that had been cast upon the water.
Our hero was in one of the boats, and soon his crew came upon one of the floating objects and it was hauled into the boat.
One of the methods and mysteries was explained; the floating objects were large rubber and guttapercha bags, water-tight and unsinkable, and in these waterproof sacks was packed the contraband merchandise.
Four boats were at work, and within a couple of hours no less than thirty-three of these sacks were put on board the "Nancy," containing thousands and thousands of dollars worth of goods that were never intended to pay duty to good old Uncle Sam.
All the bags were put on board, and the "Nancy" was ready to run into the bay and land her contraband cargo.
The detective expected she would run back on the course over which she had come out, but such was not the fact; on the contrary she lay to until all the goods were stowed below.
Spencer Vance had worked like a trooper, and for the time being, was the most active smuggler of them all, but later on he was brought face to face with his peril.
Our hero had finished all he had been called upon to do, and was standing leaning against the mast, when Ike Denman approached and said:
"Come aft, Ballard, I've a few words to exchange with you."
The detective obeyed with alacrity; coming to a halt near the cabin-way, Denman said:
"Ballard, you have proved yourself a good hand. I like you, but I've a statement to make; you can't share in the profits of to-night's work unless you become one of us."
"How's that, sir?"
"We are a regular organization; the crew of this boat is bound to secrecy by oaths and obligations, and I am about to give you the privilege of becoming one of us."
"The detective realized his peril. He saw that the game had opened, that Renie's warnings were about to be fulfilled but he was cool and easy and determined. It was a terrible moment, but he was as resolute as ever and replied:
"That wasn't in the programme, captain."
"What wasn't in the programme?"
"It wasn't stated that I was to take any oaths or obligations."
"I'll admit that, but it's necessary."
"You ought to have told me before I came with you on this trip."
"That is so, but I didn't; but you have come with us; you are here in our midst, you are posted as to our game, and now what are you going to do about it, Ballard?"
"I am not prepared to answer at present. I must have time to think," was the answer made by our hero.
"What at do you want to think about?" demanded Denman.
"I wish to consider whether or not it will pay me to become a permanent member of your crew."
"You disappoint me, Ballard."
"How so?"
"I've given you a good chance, and I expected you would say all right at a jump. I've something to tell you; suspicions are aroused concerning you. I don't believe, myself, they are just, and I hope you will make good my conclusions."
"Suspicions concerning me?"
"Yes."
"Who suspects me?"
"One of the crew says you are a spy."
"Will you bring the man face to face with me?"
"What would you do?"
"When I meet my accuser I will tell you."
"You can save yourself the trouble."
"How?"
"By becoming one of us. I will deal fairly with you. Our obligations are as binding as blood and oaths can make them; but, once one of us, you'll make heaps of money, and be companion to as jolly a set of men as ever took chances for a good livelihood."
"I must bind myself by oaths?"
"Yes; oaths as solemn as mortal lips ever uttered."
"I can't do it now."
"Why not?"
"I must have time to consider."
"Why do you need time to consider?"
"I've a reason."
"Will you name your reason?"
"Yes, I will, captain; you have been frank with me, I will be equally frank with you. I can't join your crew as long as one man is a member of it. I learn that I've an enemy on board. I never can take an obligation that would compel me to be friendly with that man!"
"Who is the man?"
"The villain who has accused me of being a Government spy!"
"How do you know which is the man?"
"I know."
"I am sorry, Ballard, I know I am to blame. I should have mentioned before what I am telling you, but there is no alternative now; you must join our crew in regular form."
"Never as long as one particular man is one of them."
"Mine is an unpleasant duty, Ballard, you have got all the points down on us, you must become one of us."
"What do you mean?" demanded the detective.
"The men demand that you join us."
"I will not. You will give me a chance for my life?"
"What chance do you want?"
"I wish to prove that my accuser is a liar."
"That would not help you, unless you become one of us; the fact that you have learned our methods settles the business, whether you are an informer or not. We run from here to the place where our goods are landed; you would have all the points down on us, and were you my own brother, it would be necessary for you to join us or be silenced. Now what will you do?"
"Give me half an hour to think the matter over."
"I've no right to give you any time."
"I can't run away, captain."
"I know, but I'd like to go back and make good my declaration in your favor. I'd like to tell the men it's all right, and that you will become one of us."
"On one condition I will take your oaths and obligations."
"What is your condition?"
"Let me settle my quarrel with the man who is my enemy."
"I never could consent to that; and besides, I must say that the fact of your suspecting a certain man as having informed against you, lends color to the charge. Ballard, you must join us or die."
Spencer Vance was still calm, and did not betray one particle of trepidation as he answered:
"I should have been informed of your requirements before I was permitted to ship with you."
"I made a mistake. I admit that I am responsible!"
"Are you willing to take the responsibility?"
"How can I?"
"Give me a chance for my life."
"How can I?"
"Make it a gauge of life or death between you and me."
Ike Denman laughed, and answered: "Why, man, you are crazy!"
"Not crazy enough to pay the penalty of your mistakes with my life!"
There was a threat in the tones of the detective.
"What do you demand?"
"Your word of honor."
"To bind a promise?"
"Yes."
"What shall I promise?"
"That I shall meet my accuser face to face on this deck; let us decide who is the spy and the traitor!"
"That wouldn't do, Ballard, and I am wasting time. Your chances are easy enough. All I ask is that you become one of us. Refuse, and I will be compelled to pass you over to the crew."
"And what will they do?"
"Try you."
"Try me for what?"
"Try you as a traitor."
"But I am no traitor."
"You are in our midst, and not one of us; that fact alone will be accepted as proof of your guilt."
"And I can escape by joining your crew?"
"Yes."
"I refuse."
"Have you considered well?"
"I am resolved not to join while my enemy is one of your number."
"You are throwing your life away."
"SO be it, but you go first!"
Ike was taken all aback, but did not lose his head. He raised his hands toward his lips intending to sound a whistle, but he was restrained by Vance, who said:
"Move or make the least signal and you are a goner."
"Aha! the charge is true," said Denman in a low tone.
"You inveigled me on board this craft. You are in collusion with a man who wishes to get rid of me. There is no chance for me and there is none for you!"
"What do you mean by your statement that I am in collusion with your enemy?"
"I see it all. I was invited on this boat by you. Well, let it go so, but, Denman, you will not live to triumph over me. Nothing on land or sea can save you. I've got the bead on you dead!"
"What do you demand?"
"Your word that I shall stand face to face with my accuser."
"And then?"
"If he sticks to his charge, let him be my executioner."
"This is your demand?"
"Yes, this is my demand."