CHAPTER XV
A FRIEND IN NEED
Both Phil and Andy stood breathlessly regarding the lad who had been the starting point in all their recent, varied adventures. Burt Noble did not look their way. He appeared more comfortably fed than when they had last seen him. He seemed at home with his companion. The latter was of course a Britisher, but that did not disturb Phil or Andy.
"Back in his old line," observed Andy, as the yawl passed beyond their range of vision. "Never dreams we're here, does he?"
"I don't know about that," responded Phil. "Burt is a smart boy. He is in the confidence of the Tories. Why mayn't he have an inkling of our dilemma? He may not know in exactly what part of the Vixen we are under lock and key. He may not even know as yet we are aboard at all, but he'll find out, trust him for that. Andy, I feel someway that somehow we are going to hear again from Burt Noble soon."
In the course of the next half-hour there seemed to be quite a jollification on board of the ship. There was heavy trampling, as if some persons were dancing, some singing, boisterous shouts, and these continued less audibly to the boys as all hands apparently adjourned to the cabin.
"It's easy to figure it out," said Andy. "That keg of spirits is the centre of a general jollification. They're all having a gay time. What a big chance to get away, if we were only through one of those barred windows, Phil."
"Yes indeed, Andy. There is probably little discipline on deck just at this present time."
About half an hour before dusk the man who brought them their meals was heard by his captives approaching the door of their prison place. His gait they could trace was somewhat stumbling. The eyes of the comrades met, and expressed a mutual thought.
"Phil, I have half a mind to tackle him and make a rush for it," whispered Andy.
"Not this time, Andy, for some one is with him."
"Too bad—that's so."
They could hear their jailer speaking. The door was unlocked, the usual supply of food and water passed in.
"There's the young rebels," spoke the man.
"They look pretty desperate, don't they?" said a voice that thrilled the captives. "Must be sort of lonesome for them to look out of those windows about dark and see nothing but sky and water."
"Burt Noble!" exclaimed Andy, as the door was closed and relocked.
"He's found us," added Phil quite excitedly. "It won't rest there."
"Say Phil, did you hear his funny remark about looking out of those windows at dark?"
"I did."
"He meant something by that."
"We'll take it that way, at any rate," said Phil. "Burt is not the boy to dream over a chance to help a friend. It won't do for him to forfeit his position with these Tories for our sake, but, trust me, he will manage to send some comfort or assistance before he leaves the Vixen."
Phil had great faith in the smartness and fidelity of their mutual friend. Andy indulged in all kinds of imaginings as to what shape the efforts of Burt Noble would take in their behalf. He posted himself at one of the windows, and Phil did the same at the other.
It was dusk, and dreary waiting in the hold room. Outside, a cloudy evening was fast setting in. The sounds of jollity from the cabin of the Vixen were in sharp contrast to the helpless condition of the two boys and the cheerless prospect upon which they looked. It had been warmer for a day or two, but night was setting in chill and murky.
"Something!" suddenly muttered Andy in a quick and excited gasp, and Phil saw what it was that attracted his watchful, staring eyes and sent both arms groping through the window aperture and beyond it.
From overhead some one—of course Burt Noble—had lowered a string. At its end dangled a package done up in a towel or a piece of cloth of some kind. In an instant Andy had seized the swaying parcel, broke it from the string, and had the package inside the prison room. Quickly he unrolled the cloth.
It contained a short iron thwart pin and a heavy blunt-edged chisel. There was light enough to inspect these, and also to make out some writing in heavy pencil lines on a rough piece of cardboard:
"No one on deck, yawl at the side," ran the hasty scrawl. "War will be on inside of a week. Get to Boston, quick."
"Bravo!" exulted Andy, on fire with delight. "Burt is a smart boy and a good friend. Phil, to work."
Without a word Phil seized the thwart pin. Something that would do staunch prying duty he had wished for all along, and here it was ready to his hand. He got a purchase on one bar and then another, already loosened, and the powerful pressure twisted the lower ends out of their sockets. Forcing the free ends to one side, the avenue to liberty was open at last.
"It's a cold plunge," observed Andy, poking his head through the window, with a mock shudder of discomfort. "I wonder which side the yawl is on?"
"Never mind the yawl, Andy," said Phil.
"Oh,—why not?"
Phil's eyes were thoughtful as he pointed to the sailboat, a cable's length in the offing.
"Andy," he said, "this is a desperate chance we are taking. We may as well make it complete. Wait ten minutes—by that time it will be dark. We will swim for the sailboat. We can reach it a good deal less certain of discovery than if we go fooling around the side for that yawl."
"Whew!" whistled Andy. "Say, can we make it?"
"Make what?"
"Get that big craft afloat and manage it. Why, Phil, if we could—I say, it must be loaded with important military stores. Oh, say! if we could sneak them away, get them into loyal hands—what an exploit, what a feather in our cap!"
"Andy," said Phil steadily, "we are going to try just that."
Ten minutes later Phil spoke a single expressive word:
"Now!"
And then, one after the other, the two dauntless lads dropped into the water.