It was a critical moment; both men were cool and spoke in deliberate tones.
They stood alone: well toward the after-deck, while the men were all busy forward and below handling the contraband cargo.
The night was calm; the sea was unruffled; not a cloud intervened between sea and moon and stars, and yet two human lives hung in the balance—the lives of two brave men.
The detective was greatly disappointed. He had not accomplished all he desired. He had hoped not to be discovered until the schooner landed her cargo, and he had fallen upon the rendezvous and the mode of transport to the city. Still he had obtained a large amount of information, facts which he could work up; and could he only get ashore alive, he would be able to run down close on the real backers of the contraband business, who were a band of foreigners who only made their money by illicit traffic in New York, to spend it abroad.
The chances, however, for getting ashore were very slim. He had dared a little too much, and yet at that very moment the undaunted officer was playing a deep game.
Under a close reef the boat was heading in toward shore, and the detective was operating to gain time, as every ten minutes increased his chances of eventual escape.
After the detective's declaration, "Your own life will pay the forfeit!" there followed a moment's silence Vance would not break; time to him was precious while the yacht lay upon her inward course.
"You are a traitor, Ballard, you are a Government spy!"
"Who says so?"
"The charge has been made."
"Let me meet the man who makes the charge."
"And then?"
"I have made my demand. I am to receive your word that. I shall have a fair chance to settle the matter with him."
"Your request is reasonable."
"It is."
"Why not join us and then make your demand?"
"I will never join a crew with that man; this is a trumped-up charge against me to satisfy private malice."
"Why does your accuser seek to accuse you falsely?"
"I am too much of a man to bring my private quarrel to public notice; captain, the matter stands here; you know I'm no tyro; as matters stand, I am doomed; against you and your crew out here at sea I've no chance for my life; but as the chances have turned, I can guarantee fair play ashore."
"You shall meet your accuser."
"And have a fair show?"
"Yes."
"I have your word, captain?"
"You have my word."
"Good enough, you have saved your life! I'll trust your word; if you go back on me, may the sharks soon crunch your living bones."
"You stand here, I'll bring the man aft."
"Good enough."
The captain went forward; the detective stood calm and patient, but his eyes were upon the master of the "Nancy." He saw Denman speak to the men, and then he saw the crew start in a body toward the afterdeck. Denman had proved false, the smuggler had forfeited his word.
"It's now or never," muttered the detective, and he sprung beside the rudder port and stood upon the stern rail. His form towered up through the night like an apparition, as he called in a loud tone:
"You and I will meet again, Denman. Sol Burton is a liar."
Head first the intrepid detective dove from the vessel down into the water, and when he came to the surface he was beyond range, as the yacht was moving along with moderate speed in one direction, while our hero was swimming under water in an opposite course.
"Lower away the boat!" shouted Sol Burton.
The men ran to obey, but at that moment lights were seen, and one of the men shouted:
"It's a cutter!"
Ike Denman heard the latter shout, and commanded:
"Hold fast there the boats!"
The crew had not time to take up a boat when the cutter was bearing down upon them.
"That man can never get ashore," said an old tar; "No living man in full toggery can go over the side of this boat and ever come unaided out of the sea!"
"The cutter may pick him up," suggested Sol Burton.
"More likely to pick us up! No, no, he'll be down on the bottom before the cutter gets around, and she will not run within five miles of where he went over, if she heads her course to overhaul us."
"It's not a cutter," said Sol Burton.
"Well, let it go so; that man Ballard is with the angels by this time," came the response.
Meantime the detective was moving like a fish through the calm waters toward the shore.
It was a smooth sea, and only a fifteen-mile swim, and he had gone aboard the yacht prepared for the venture.
When Spencer Vance sprung overboard, he was oiled from his ears to his heels, and his clothing was ready to be peeled down to an oil-skin under-suit, lined in the inner side with soft wool.
Like a fish he cut through the waters, and his heart was as brave as his sweeping stroke, as he propelled himself forward toward she shore.
"It's all right, Johnny," he muttered, as he spurted some sea water from between his lips. "I'll keep my word. I'll interview Ike Denman when he is not looking for me; and, as to Sol Burton, I'll catch that man some day!"
The detective swam along merrily, and, in less than four hours after having leaped from the yacht, he crawled upon the beach, and lay down in the warm sand to rest, burying himself like a mole; and there he lay for over an hour, when he rose to his feet, and started to walk down the coast. He was not sure of the distance he would be compelled to travel, but was assured as to the direction he was to take.
Our hero was quite proud of his achievement, but felt a little blue when he observed a storm coming in rapidly from the sea; but his luck did not desert him. He saw a deserted cabin, toward which he made his way, and it didn't take him long to gather a lot of twigs and drift, and, upon reaching the cabin, he made a fire, and sat down before the cheerful blaze, as comfortable an individual as ever took a long chance in the way of duty.
Once in the cabin, the brave man betrayed the ingenuity of his preparations for his perilous Venture, and verified ed his confident statement to Renie, that she need have no fear, as in good time he would come ashore again to tell the tale of his adventure.
The detective had a thin rubber belt stretched under his arms; the latter served as a buoy and as a receptacle for the necessary articles which he knew he would require when he washed shore.
Within the belt he had found matches, and weapons, and clothing, the latter of thin material wound as tightly as cotton on a spool; and, as stated, as the fire burned and blazed and crackled, he felt quite comfortable; and, as the storm broke over his cabin, a warm glow of satisfaction circulated through his frame.
"This is just jolly!" he muttered, as he ate away at a good sandwich, and, later on, from his treasure belt he drew forth pipe and tobacco and settled down for a smoke.
The whole face of the sea, meantime, had changed; a fierce storm had arisen; the wind howled and the rain beat clown against his refuge, and the noise of the storm but sent a warmer glow to his heart.
Our hero realized that he had reached shore just in time. The tempest had held back for him, as it were, as, had it come upon him while in the sea, no power on earth could have saved him.
Ensconced in his deserted cabin with a glowing fire, his pipe, and a wee drop of whisky, the roar of the tempest was music in his ears, and lulled him to a peaceful slumber from which he was rudely aroused, later on, by a punch in the ribs. The detective awoke, leaped to his feet, and confronted a powerful-looking man in an oil-skin suit.
"Hello! who are you, and what are you doing here?" came the inquiry from the stranger.
"These are just the questions I'm putting to you," answered our hero.
"Well, stranger, my questions are first, I reckon."
"You're right; but tell me, am I in your quarters?"
"No, not exactly; this shanty was built for common use; but where did you come from?"
"I came from the sea."
"You're a man, you're not a fish; how did you come in from the sea?"
"I swam in."
"Has there been a wreck?"
"Not to my knowledge."
"Well, you're talking riddles; suppose you get down to plainUnited States lingo."
"I fell overboard and was compelled to swim or sink."
"What sort of a craft did you come over from?"
"A yacht."
"A pleasure yacht?"
"Well, yes."
"And you weren't picked up?"
"If I had been I wouldn't be here."
"That's so. How far were you off shore?"
"Not very far."
"You must have gone over before the storm set in."
"I should say so; and now as I've answered your questions, who are you?"
"I am a fisherman. I ran into the cove on account of the storm, and came over here to stay until daylight, or later if the storm holds."
"I reckon the storm won't hold much longer; it's only a passing tempest, and so make yourself comfortable. Will you have a bite?"
"Thank you, I had food with me in my boat."
"Will you cover a little whisky."
"I will!" came the hearty acceptance.
The two men had a long, pleasant talk, and our hero soon learned that his new acquaintance was a really honest fisherman—good, square man; and there are many of them on the Long Island coast, and no truer and better men can be found in any quarter of the globe.
When fully satisfied that the man was an honest fellow, our hero opened up a certain subject with him.
"Taylor, did you run across a gang of smugglers in your experience along the coast?"
"You can just bet I have run across them; and, between you and me, it is an easy matter to put my hand on the key that locks the door of their secret warehouse."
"You can do that?"
"I can."
"How is it you have never communicated with the Government?"
"Well, I'll tell you. I've always been afraid it might get me into some sort of a scrape. You see, I am a man of family, and couldn't afford to lose any time."
"I'll let you into a secret."
"All right."
"I'm a Government officer."
"Whew! is that so? Well, I might have suspected as much. And so you did not come in from the sea, but you're lying around here expecting to discover something? You're on the wrong part of the coast, however; this is not the spot for you to lay. I can give you a better point."
"That's just what I'm looking for."
"I don't know, however; I might get myself into trouble."
"No fear of that; you need only act as a guide to me."
"Well, I'll think it over."
The detective began to grow a little suspicious of his new friend; there was a possibility that he had concluded as to the fisherman's honesty a little too soon.
"There is no need for you to consider, as a good citizen you owe it as a duty to the Government."
"That's so, but I owe more to my family; some of the gang are neighbors of mine, and if it were ever known that I betrayed their hiding-place, it would go hard with me."
"No one will ever know that you betrayed them; we will go secretly to their rendezvous; you will point out the spot to me, and I will manage the rest, and you will be well paid for your service."
"And you are a Government officer?" I am.
"Tell me the true story of your being here."
"I cannot tell you more than I have already revealed."
"I am to be paid if I point out the rendezvous?"
"Yes, well paid!"
"And I am only to locate the place?"
"That is all."
"I will do it."
"When?"
"At once, or as soon as the tempest ceases."
"The storm is most over now."
"I will sail in my boat to the nearest point, we will have to go the balance of the way overland."
"That is all right."
"But remember, no attempt at seizure must be made within twenty hours after I have located the warehouse!"
"That is all right; and now tell me, do you know any of the principals?"
"How do you mean?"
"I will tell you; no harm will come to the actual smugglers, beyond the breaking up of their business; it's the men who furnish the capital that I am after."
"I can put you on the track of one or two of them."
"Do so, and you will make a small fortune."
"But I will become a regular informer."
"Did you ever belong to one of the gangs?"
"Never."
"Then it makes no difference to you, as you will never be known in the matter. How far is your boat from here?"
"Five minutes' walk."
"When shall we start?"
"It will soon be daylight; we had better wait until dawn."
"All right, and we will improve the hour or two we have remaining of darkness by a refreshing sleep."
One adventure had led forward to another, and again to another, until the detective was well on his road toward the point where he could make a "closing in" attack.
He knew it would be a grand thing for him to run the gang clear down to their bottom methods.
The detective had been keeping tireless vigils, and sleep was what he most needed, and two good hours of undisturbed sleep was as much to him as seven or eight to an ordinary person.
He was aroused by Taylor, and upon awaking and looking out, he saw that it was broad daylight, and indeed a bright and beautiful morning.
Taylor had been up some time; he had been to his boat, and had brought back the necessary articles for a good breakfast, and our hero was summoned to as solid a morning meal as he had ever enjoyed.
After breakfast the two men went to where Taylor's boat lay, a large and stanch little mainsail and jib boat, rough in appearance, but a good sea boat and a fast sailer.
The captain of the little craft steered her through the channel, and was soon running across the famous Great South Bay, and later on our hero found himself in one of those many famous Long Island sea-coast towns, where summer boarders made merry the passing hours of the July and August months.
Taylor took our hero to his own home, and introduced him to a cleanly and interesting family.
"When do we start?" demanded Vance, after indulging in a good, and really substantial dinner.
"We will take the two o'clock train," was the reply.
Our readers will observe that we do not name localities, and we have a good reason. Within the last few months smuggling has been resumed, and the government is adopting measures once more to suppress the traffic, and we have decided that the interest of our narrative does not demand more specific details.
To those of our readers who are acquainted with the Long Island coast, it is not necessary to name the several localities; as, from passing hints, they will be able to locate the several points; and readers who live afar would be no wiser were we to name towns, and designate exact localities.
It was late in the afternoon when our hero and his friend, Taylor, stood on the shore of another one of the several famous bays that indent Long Island's sea shore; and, what seems still more startling, about half a mile off shore lay the yacht "Nancy."
Our hero and his companion were at the point when the taut little smuggler ran down from the inlet, and came to an anchor oft the shore.
At the time the place had not become as great a resort as at present, and the hordes of pleasure-seekers, who now, during certain seasons of the year dwell on the coast, little dream of the wild scenes, and wilder orgies that occurred thereabouts a few years back.
Taylor and the detective had crossed the bay to the island and were hidden in the brush that fringed the bluff overlooking the shore, when the "Nancy" ran down as described and came to an anchor.
"There's the smuggler!" exclaimed Taylor as he first caught sight of the yacht.
"Yes, there's the 'Nancy' as sure as you are born," returned the detective.
"Ah, you know her?"
"I reckon I do."
"There's a bad lot on that boat."
"There is a bad lot; they are a crew of murderer and bandits."
"They do great harm to our legitimate business, and good honest men are constantly annoyed by the cutters who hail and search them almost daily."
"We will soon put that crew out of harm's way," remarked the detective.
"She's loaded," said Taylor.
"How loaded?"
"She's got contraband cargo beneath her decks."
"How do you know?"
"She never runs in here only when she comes to put her goods ashore."
"Don't the people over on the mainland know of her business?"
"Well, a few may suspect, but I don't believe they know; you see she will put in a load of produce, take a regular cargo from here, and the most of the people think she's an honest coaster. I've known her to get freight from a regular shipping company in New York, and deliver an assorted cargo, simply as a blind."
"How is it you chanced to run her down to her real business, and get all the points so dead on the crew?"
"My first discovery was accidental, and since then I just investigated a little for my own satisfaction."
"How long has she been engaged in this traffic?"
"About two years; previous to that the business was broken up and nothing was done for a long time; but about two years ago, the 'Nancy' was manned and put under the charge of Denman, who is an old smuggler, and I believe that man could be worth thousands upon thousands, but they say he goes to New York and gambles and sports all his money away; but he must handle a good pile in the course of a year."
"I see his crew is made up of all nationalities?"
"Yes; but they are mostly West Indians, not natives, but fellows raised down among the Islands."
"When will she run her cargo ashore?"
"To-night, and she will do it so quickly that you'd hardly know her crew had been at work."
"It's a wonder they have never been discovered."
"I reckon they have been, but Denman practices the old CaptainKidd maxim: 'Dead men tell no tales.'"
"Has he dared to kill anybody?"
"Well, men have been missing around here, and later on, they have been found floating in the bay, and the people have always concluded they were cases of drowning while drunk; and I always thought so myself, until about two months ago, when I fell to a suspicion."
"Did you never tell your suspicion?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I was waiting a chance to verify it."
"You think it would cost a man his life to be caught by those fellows?"
"That's my idea."
The detective had made some important discoveries, and, among others, he had "piped" down to the fact that the crew of the "Nancy" were as desperate and blood-thirsty a set of scoundrels as ever ran in and out of Long Island even with that famous buccaneer, Captain Kidd.
"About how many men have been missing at different time?" asked our hero.
"It's hard to tell; but the crew of the 'Nancy' could tell some fearful tales if they were to open their mouths."
The detective was destined to go to the bottom of the mystery.
The place selected by the men for their work was one of the most lonely and desolate on the whole coast at that time.
Taylor informed our hero that they would not unload from where they were anchored; he said:
"They will run down around the point yonder, put their cargo ashore, and then sail back and reanchor where you see them now. I tell you they make quick work of it."
"But I cannot see how they escape detection."
"Oh, they have plenty of confederates; the gang is not composed alone of the men who sail in the 'Nancy'."
"Then we must lay low until night falls."
"Yes."
The detective encountered some thrilling adventures ere another sunrise.
The detective's friend, Taylor, appeared disinclined to remain; he said:
"I only promised to point out to you the rendezvous.
"Have you done so?"
"Yes."
"I do not know where the landing is made."
"Off yonder point."
"Around in the cove?"
"Yes."
"You can remain with me?"
"No, I cannot."
"Why not?"
"Well, this is no place for strangers; we are in peril every moment we stay here."
"We are all right, so long as the crew of the 'Nancy' remain on their boat."
"Not to-night; we are not safe."
"Why not?"
"Because the 'Nancy' is there. Why, sir; we do not know what moment someone may spring upon us! All their spies are out and on guard to-night; everything is watched as a cat watches a mouse-hole!"
"If you leave me, how am I to get over to the mainland?"
Taylor did not make an immediate reply, and the detective repeated his question.
"I did not think you intended remaining."
"What did you think?"
"I thought you would mark down the bearings and come here in force."
"But, as I've an opportunity to get the whole business down fine, I propose to remain."
"Then you will need a boat."
"Yes, I will, surely, in the morning."
"No, sir."
"What are you getting at?"
"I will speak plainly. If you remain here you will never see the mainland again. I tell you those men are a desperate lot!"
"But they will not find me."
"The chances are ten to one against you, and that they will find you. I would not remain here to-night for a hundred thousand dollars! The danger begins exactly at nightfall."
"You have got it down as fine as that, eh?"
"I have."
"If you take away the boat, you will take from me what chanceI might have for escape."
"You must not remain."
"But I shall!"
"You are determined?"
"I am."
"Very well, I will leave you the boat; by walking about four miles I can find a way to cross over to the mainland."
"I wish you were a braver man."
"I have a family."
"That settles it!" exclaimed the detective, and he added, "as you are going away you had better go now."
It was near sundown, and there lay the "Nancy" on the calm waters of the bay, looking to be as harmless a craft as rested on a keel.
"Can I not persuade you to go with me?"
"No, sir."
"You cannot fully realize the danger."
"Hang the danger! I've a duty to perform, and I'll stay here and see that cargo put ashore from the 'Nancy,' even if it prove the last scene of my life!"
"The chances are that such will prove to be the fact; I warn you that the danger cannot be denied."
"Well, you had better go if you have four miles to travel before sundown."
"Have you any messages to leave?"
"None."
"Who am I to report to in case you are never seen alive?"
"You are taking a serious view of it."
"I am; I tell you it's certain death for a stranger to remain on this island to-night!"
"Suppose the stranger is not discovered, my good friend?"
"You are certain to be discovered. The whole island will be patrolled."
"You speak like a man who has had some dire experience."
"I would not remain on this island to-night for the fall value of it in dollars."
"Why do you specify to-night?"
"Oh, any other night it would be all right, but as you know, it is a business evening to-night, and they will be all on guard."
"I must take the chances."
"Well, good-bye; I go now."
"Good-bye; I will call and see you to-morrow and pay you your reward."
"I hope you may, but I never expect to see you again. What I recommend is that you guide the cutter to this place—"
"I must first know just where to guide them."
"Come here in force, and with all the knowledge you have you will soon find the right place."
"I will come here in force in good season, but to-night I take points alone."
"Good-bye."
"All right, good-bye."
Taylor spoke in a very solemn tone, and wore a solemn look upon his face as he walked away.
The sun was just on the edge of the horizon when our hero found himself alone.
"Well, well," he muttered, "I have been a lucky man. I've got this business right down to the right point, and with the additional information I shall gain I will be king of the mystery."
The detective was highly delighted with his prospective success, and with wonderful patience under all the circumstances, he awaited the approach of night.
From his position on the bluff, he commanded a full view of the smuggler yacht, and it was with a sweet unction to his soul that he remembered his words to Denman and his crew: "I shall see you again!"
He felt that he would come upon the smugglers at the proper moment, like an apparition fresh from a new-made grave. The men he knew believed him dead, and he well remembered the proverbial superstition of sailors, and it struck him that the time might come when it would stand him in hand to take advantage of the startling shock that would certainly attend his reappearance before that murderous crew.
Night fell, and the detective strained his eyes to watch the movements on board the "Nancy."
The men, as he discovered, were playing their game well; at the proper hour their lights were set, and all the necessary precautions taken for a vessel which proposed to lay at anchor all night in a water way.
The detective was still on the watch, while the hours slowly glided away until near midnight, when he saw certain movements on board the boat that warned him she was about to change her position.
The detective, who had been lying on the grass rose to his feet, prepared to follow the movements of the "Nancy," when he was suddenly confronted by an armed man.
The detective was momentarily taken all aback. The stranger came upon him suddenly.
One fact was established: the man had been the first to make the discovery of the presence of the detective, and his good luck gave him, seemingly, the advantage.
For a moment the two men stood gazing at each other under the starlight.
The silence was broken by the armed man, who said:
"Well, mister, what are you doing spying around here?"
"Who says I'm spying around here?"
"I do."
"Well, you and I won't quarrel."
The stranger had a dead bead on the detective.
"No, stranger, you and I won't quarrel, it's easy for us to come to an understanding; just tell me who you are, and what you're doing around here, or say, your prayers as quick as you can."
"Why, what do you mean, my good man?—this ain't one of the South Sea Islands! I haven't fallen in with cannibals right here in Suffolk County, New York State!"
The detective was coming the innocent dodge, and his little lead off was most excellent, and displayed great quickness and readiness of thought.
The smuggler, as later on the stranger proved to be, was set a little back by the detective's pretended innocence, but in a moment he recovered his ideas, and said:
"I think you're a thief!"
"You think I'm a thief!"
"Yes, I do."
"Well, this is a great idea, that I should be taken for a thief!"
"You don't live on the island?"
"No."
"Have you any friends here?"
"No."
"That's just what I thought. And now, give an account of yourself—what are you doing prowling around here?"
"This is a free country; a man can go where he pleases, I reckon, without giving an account of himself to every man he meets."
"If you've got any friends on the island who know you and will vouch for you, it's all right; otherwise you will give an account of yourself."
"I reckon it's none of your business what I am doing can the island. I think you had better give an account of yourself, coining upon a stranger, after dark, with pistols in your hands!"
"I can give an account of myself. I am one of a citizens' committee. Robberies have been frequent on this island of late, and we compel every stranger to give an account of himself."
"Oh, that's it, eh?"
"Yes."
"Well, arrest me, and I will give an account of myself to the proper authorities."
"I am the proper authority."
"I don't recognize your authority."
"You are any prisoner!"
"That's all right," said the detective; and, throwing up his arms, he walked toward the armed man.
The latter did not know exactly how to act under the circumstances, the detective was so cool and acted so strangely.
Our hero, however, knew what he was up to well enough, and, when within a few feet of the smuggler, he suddenly threw himself forward and grappled with the ruffian.
A struggle followed. Both were powerful men, but the detective was the most active and the coolest, and better prepared to take advantage of all chances.
Exerting himself to almost superhuman efforts, he forced the ruffian back to a great bowlder, and threw him down with such force that the man lost consciousness.
Half an hour passed.
The man lay silent and motionless like one dead, and no one came to the rescue.
The detective moved stealthily from his hiding-place to the verge of the bluff and glanced over to the spot where the "Nancy" had been riding at anchor. The boat had disappeared.
A moment Vance stood and considered. He knew that he was walking upon dangerous ground. He had received an intimation of the desperateness of the gang. After a review of the situation he walked back to where the smuggler whom he had worsted lay. The man was just beginning to show signs of returning consciousness.
"I reckon I'll render you harmless for the balance of the night," muttered the detective, and he bound the man hand and foot.
The man meantime revived, and called for water.
"Ah, you are thirsty, are you?" muttered the detective, who, after all, was a humane and merciful fellow, and he proceeded to a running rill near by and got some water in a rubber cup which he always carried about him.
The man slaked his thirst, and asked:
"Where am I?"
"You are at home, I reckon."
The smuggler, at length, appeared to realize that he had been bound, and he said:
"Who tied me up this way?"
"I did."
"Why?"
"You were set to shoot me down, and I got the better of you."
"Ah, I remember."
"Yes, you set on me and I was compelled to serve you out."
"Release me now, it's all right."
"Oh, it's all right, eh? well, I don't think so; it's my idea you are a bad character, and I'm going to keep you here until I notify the constable or someone else. I think you are a highwayman or a robber or something of that sort; you're a bad man anyhow."
"Release me, I live upon the island. I am well known. I am no burglar or robber. I took you for one."
"Did you? well you were mistaken, and now, Mister Man, what have you got to say particular before you go to sleep?"
"Before I go to sleep! what do you mean?"
"I mean you will rest here until morning, until I can notify some of the citizens here, so they can come and take you into custody; it's my idea you are a bad character."
"You do not mean what you say; you will not leave me here?"
"I will."
"It will cost you your life."
"Will it?"
"I will follow you to the end of the world."
"That's all right, but you won't start out on your journey until after to-morrow, my friend."
"You certainly do not mean to leave me here tied in this manner."
"Yes, I do, and I'm going to insert this in your jaw, so you will rest quiet until morning."
"Hold! release me and I will forgive you."
The detective's answer was the insertion of a gag in the man's mouth, and at the, same instant footsteps were heard.
Spencer Vance sprung to his feet, and stood and listened, determined to have the drop on the other man in case of danger, and not again get caught in the position he was when the first smuggler called him to account.
The intruder passed on his way without having come upon our hero and his gagged prisoner.
The detective stole after the man, but concluded he was merely a resident of the island who passed by through chance.
Returning to his man Vance made sure that he could not release himself, and then started down to the shore and moved along the beach, hoping to come upon the smugglers engaged in the unloading of their goods.
The detective traversed about four miles of coast when, far ahead of him, he saw the glimmer of dancing lights.
"Aha!" he muttered, "I've got 'em!"
He spoke in an incautiously loud tone, when a man sprung toward him.
The smugglers had put out sentinels, and our hero had run across one of them.
The sentinel proved to be a resolute fellow, as he did not stop to ask questions, but made a stroke at the detective's head.
Our hero dodged the blow, and seized the fellow;
The man struggled violently, and made several attempts to sing out an alarm, but he was in a grip of iron. The detective, however, had no time to spare. He was an overmatch for the smuggler, but at any, moment assistance might arrive. It was silence the officer needed at that moment, and he buried the fellow's head under water.
The poor fellow struggled violently, and it appeared a cruel recourse, but our hero knew that the water would render the man temporarily harmless. He did not mean to drown him.
The man's struggles finally ceased, when the detective raised his head from the water.
The fellow was not dead, but his cries were stopped for the time being—a water gag, as our hero termed it.
Vance left the man lying on the beach, and advanced more cautiously. He had crossed the line and was in the charmed circle.
Like an Indian on a trail he crawled forward, and, regardless of peril, approached quite close to the working party.
Just above the water-line was a wall of rock, and built upon the rock was a small house, and into this house the goods were carried.
The detective saw that the house was not of sufficient dimensions to hold all the goods that were carried in, and he made up his mind at the proper time to make a survey of the place and delve to the secret.
Nothing more was to be done that night. He had ascertained all he desired. He had located the rendezvous and the store-house; while on the yacht he had marked some of the goods, so that he could identify them. He had trailed down the methods, noted the active workers, and all that remained was for him to get safely off the island and trace down to the backers.
He had taken long chances, but all his risks were amply repaid by his wonderful success.
The detective, at the moment he decided to get away, was so close to the working party that he could overhear what passed between them, and while he watched he saw a figure glide into their midst.
"The dead alive!" was the under-toned exclamation that fell from his lips as he recognized the half-drowned man whom he had so successfully overcome.
At once there followed great excitement. A consultation was summoned. The man had evidently told his startling tale.
Our hero recognized Ike Denman, the traitor and falsifier, captain of the "Nancy," and he heard Ike say:
"You are sure it was not one of the islanders?"
"I am sure. I tell you I recognized the man!"
"You recognized him?"
"Yes."
"Who was he?"
"Ballard!"
A murmur of incredulousness rose from the men, and Ike Denman exclaimed:
"You have been fooled by your fancy; you have been dreaming!"
"No; I wasn't dreaming; I swear I saw Ballard, the man who went overboard from the 'Nancy' twenty miles out at sea."
"I tell you, man, you have been dreaming."
The man pointed down to his wet clothes.
"Yes, you scoundrel, you fell asleep and rolled down the bank into the water, and you saw a ghost in your dream."
"You fellows may think I saw a ghost, but I can prove I didn't. Yes, sir, prove it."
"How?"
"Bring your lanterns and come with me."
"What will you show us?"
"The man's tracks in the sand at the spot where he and I had the wrestle."
The man started for the point where our hero had first met the smuggler; had the former been less bravo and reckless he would have seized the opportunity to get away, but he was curious to witness the result of the inquiry, and he moved along to the spot where the combat had taken place, and took up a position on the bluff near enough to see and overhear.
The men with their lanterns reached the place and an examination followed.
The imprints of two pairs of feet were plainly visible. Denman made close examination, even measuring the different footprints; when he had concluded he said in a hoarse voice:
"Boys, we've been followed; there's an enemy on the island and he must never get away alive!"
By the glare of the lanterns our hero could see the men's faces, and they were pale and contorted with excitement and trepidation.
"I reckon I'll go now," he said, "it's getting rather warm around here."
The officer quietly moved away, while Denman divided his men into several squads and started them on a hunt for the spy.
The master of the "Nancy" was completely mystified. He could not understand how it was possible, under even the most extraordinary circumstances, that Ballard could be alive and upon the island. He supposed; as a matter of course, the detective was dead, and yet his man had positively sworn as to the revenue officer's identity.
"This is the most wonderful thing in all my experience!" declared the master of the "Nancy," as alone he walked back toward the landing-place of the boats.
Meantime the detective had reached a most extraordinary determination. He saw that the chances were against him if he sought to reach the boat in which he and Taylor had crossed from the mainland; and yet it ways absolutely necessary that he should have a boat. He reasoned that the smugglers would scatter all over the island, and concluded that the safest place for him was the starting-point of the searchers. It required a cool, level-headed man to decide under all the circumstances, and our hero was just the sort of man described.
The detective made sure that the men had scattered, and that the search was in full blast, when he doubled on his course and moved down toward the warehouse. Here again he displayed his reckless courage. He approached the small building on the bluff, from the rear, and entered it, and one mystery was explained—the building was but the cover to the entrance to an immense underground warehouse.
A lantern was hanging near by, and the detective seized it and descending the stairs entered a great store-house.
A sight met his gaze which filled him with amazement. His fortune was made at last; the store-house was filled with packages of valuable goods; indeed, an immense fortune lay scattered about.
Later on the detective came to learn more particularly the methods of the smugglers, but for the present as he stood there he realized that he was a wondrously lucky man, unless he should prove unlucky enough to be captured.
While standing in the subterranean store-house an idea entered his mind and he exclaimed:
"By George, that's just the scheme."
He returned to the upper room and replaced the lantern, and immediately redescended to the storehouse.
The detective had a masked lantern with him, having secured it while abiding a few hours at the home of his guide, Taylor.
Spencer Vance had determined to hide himself in the smugglers' underground warehouse. He had reached the conclusion that he could find no safer place.
Spencer Vance had struck a big scheme. Even while in such great peril, and while busy, he was revolving in his mind all the chances and contingencies; but over all loomed the possibility of discovery. There was no friendly sea to receive him should those men find him secreted in their treasure den.
The detective was like a man walking in a suspected coal mine with a lighted torch, who at any moment might strike a chamber filled with the fatal gas, which coming in contact with the light, would have blown man and mine to smithereens.
Meantime the search continued on the island, and the detective was rejoiced as he saw that, after all, the discovery of his presence was a most excellent thing, as it would lead to the eventual discovery of the real smugglers, through means which will be described later on.
Vance had measured every step as he progressed, and knew just where he would fetch out, provided he once got away from the island; but there, as stated, loomed the chance against him. His opportunity would depend largely upon the decision of Ike Denman after the return of his searching parties.
One of the searching parties was moving along looking for a trail, when a cry from one of their number brought the squad together. The man had stumbled upon the strapped and gagged smuggler.
There was a circus for a few moments after the discovery, and there followed some loud swearing, not low; but deep, fast and furious.
The man had been gagged so long it was some minutes before he could relate his sad tale.
One of the men said to him:
"Who served you out, Jim?"
When the man found voice he answered:
"The devil or one of his imps."
"Hello! did you see the ghost?"
"What ghost?"
"The ghost of Ballard."
"I don't know anything about the ghost of Ballard, but I had a rough scrimmage with the gamest man I ever tackled."
"Didn't you recognize him?"
"No."
"I wonder if there are two of 'em on the island?"
"What's happened, boys?"
"Well, it's looking as though the devil himself were loose to-night."
The man proceeded and told how another of their crew had met the island mystery, and had been half drowned by him.
"I tell you," said the man, "it's going to stand us in hand to get that fellow on; the game is all dead against us, and we'll whistle for our share of prize-money."
"Come along with us and we may find our man; you can identify him?"
"Identify the devil! let me see him just one second."
The men, as a fact, failed to discover the island mystery, and different parties returned and reported to Ike Denman.
When the master of the "Nancy" heard of the laying out of another of his sentinels, his rage knew no bounds, and calling his men around him he declared;
"We must find out this fellow. He cannot have left the island."
One of the men suggested:
"We may never get a sight of him."
"If it is Ballard we can recognize him."
The men were sent away once more, and many of their passive confederates on the island were aroused and started out on the search; indeed the island became alive with secretly armed men.
Ike Denman was satisfied that the detective had not got away, and he was determined to find him. Hundreds of thousands of dollars were at stake; the fact that the detective had trailed down to their rendezvous meant ruin.
The master of the "Nancy" did not for one moment believe in his own mind that the mystery was, Ballard; his common sense suggested that it was impossible that the fellow could have escaped, unless by some strange fatality he had been picked up, and as there were no vessels near enough to see him at the time he went over from the yacht, the latter chance did not seem probable.
It was well toward morning when several of the crew, according to orders, returned and joined the captain, and the latter went aboard the "Nancy" and sailed her back to where she had previously anchored.
One man was left in charge of the yacht, and the balance, with the captain, rowed ashore and proceeded afoot to the rendezvous, and at length daylight came.
The search had proved a failure, and when it was well on in the morning all hands were assembled at the rendezvous.
A majority of the men were sent aboard the "Nancy," while the master and some of his most reliable confederates remained ashore.
The men had made a thorough search, and all hands were still of the opinion that the detective, or whoever it was that had been tracking them, still remained secreted somewhere on the island.
One of the men, a shrewd fellow, offered several singular suggestions. He had accurately measured the tracks of the man who had laid out two members of the crew, and he had found duplicate foot imprints down around the rendezvous.
A more dazed and bewildered set of men were never engaged in an illegal traffic.
Meantime the daring detective was lying low right in their very midst.
Spencer Vance had not been idle while in the subterranean warehouse; but, with his masked lantern, he had gone about, and, in a regular business-like manner, had made an inventory of the merchandise scattered about; and he had also copied all the shipping-marks and also all the hieroglyphic brush signs. He furthermore opened some of the cases, and put identification marks on some of the goods indeed, he did his work in a thorough and masterly manner. He had accomplished wonders; but he was not yet safely off the island.
Later on the detective made some startling and ghastly discoveries. He came upon a box containing human bones, and he was sufficiently experienced to recognize that, in the case of the remains, ordinary, decay had been supplemented by artificial processes, and the latter discovery was a prima facie testimony in favor of the theory that the bones were those of murdered victims.
Our hero was still rummaging around when his attention was attracted by human voices, and, closing the slide of his lantern, he laid low and watched, and, a moment later, became aware that some of the crew of the "Nancy" were in the warehouse.
"I wonder," he muttered, "if they have came to look for me here? If they have, I reckon I'm in a tight place!"
The detective crawled toward the place where the smugglers were gathered, and he overheard their conversation.
One of them remarked.
"It's all nonsense to look for him in here."
"If it is Ballard, or Spencer Vance, I'd look for him in my vest pocket; either one of those men would dare to go anywhere."
"Well, search," commanded Ike Denman.
"Now I am a goner," was the mental declaration of the intrepid revenue officer, while at the same time he was, resolved to take all necessary precautions. He found a hiding place and passed a full hour of anxiety, indeed, a mental strain that would have turned a less nervy man gray.
The agony, however, passed, and he escaped discovery, and heard one of the fellows say:
"He is not in here, that is certain."
"You're mistaken, Charley," muttered the detective to himself, in a spirit of reckless facetiousness.
Ike Denman appeared to be completely disheartened, and he said:
"I tell you, my good fellows, we're in trouble; that man has got away."
"What will you do?"
"There is only one thing for me to do; I must go to New York and report the situation at headquarters."
"We can get the goods away."
"It's easy to say we can get the goods away, but where will we take them?"
"We can load the 'Nancy' down with the most valuable of them."
"That is a good idea, but you cannot get to work until to-night."
"We can start in to-night."
"Where will you run her when she's loaded?"
"We can run outside and communicate."
"Do that, and meantime I will go on to New York. There is a one o'clock train from the station on the other side. I will go on that train."
"And we are to load the 'Nancy' to-night."
"Yes."
The detective overheard the whole of the above conversation, and great drops of perspiration came out upon his forehead. He was in a bad fix after all. Should Denman get to New York ahead of him, he would lose his best grip after all. Something must be done. He must get over to the mainland before one o'clock, in time to take the train with Denman, at all hazards.
Denman and a part of his crew passed from the warehouse while one of the men remarked:
"I've some private property in here to look after and I'll see to it at once."
A smile flitted over the face of the detective. He thought a chance was about to present itself for him to get away.
A moment he lay quiet, and then emerged from his hiding-place.
The warehouse was artificially illuminated by a few swinging lamps, and only one was lighted at the time.
The detective cautiously glanced around. He had prepared himself for the work he had in hand. He saw a light in a distant corner and he cautiously stole toward the light, and came upon a man sorting over the contents of a sailor's ship-sack.
It was a critical moment; life depended upon success, death would follow, sure death, the failure of his plan.
Like a cat creeping toward an unsuspecting bird on a twig, the detective crept toward the smuggler, knowing that when he sprung upon his prey there must be no mistake.
The critical moment was reached, the officer made his leap forward, and seized his man, seized him by the throat, and when once Vance got his grip on a man's throat silence followed; no man was ever known to make an outcry with those powerful fingers grasped around his neck.
The man was, not a very powerful fellow, fortunately, and the detective easily bore him to the ground. Having secured the man, the detective said:
"I am going to lighten my grip on your throat. I wish to ask you a few questions, answer me promptly and truthfully, and you will save your life; but seek to make an outcry, and you are a dead man. Now wink if you mean to keep quiet and save your life?"
The mail winked.
"All right, old fellow, you know the value of your skin, I see, and mark you don't make any mistake, for as certain as you make the least effort to give an alarm, you are a dead man; do you understand? If so, wink."
The man winked:
"That's all right," said the detective; and he released his hold on the man's throat.
The man kept his word. He was not a very nervy chap, and was terrified almost to death, as it was.
"What is your name?" demanded the detective.
"Why do you wish to know my name?"
The man spoke in a loud tone, when the detective said:
"Speak low, old man—very low, or you'll never speak again.Now wink."
The man winked, and the detective said:
"Now tell me your name?"
"My name is Arbella."
"Your name is Arbella?""Yes."
"You are one of the crew of the 'Nancy'?"
"No."
"You are not?"
"I am not."
"What are you?"
"I am the doctor on the vessel. I've nothing to do with their business."
"Oh, you're the doctor?"
"I am."
"Well, doctor, you are a lucky man. I did intend to silence you, but I'll just shut you up temporarily; and now mind; if you make the least noise or attempt to offer resistance, you area dead man!"