“’Bout three o’clock,” he answered finally.
“Thunder!” muttered Nelson. Then, “How far is it?” he asked.
The pipe came forth again and the informant let his gaze travel around the horizon as though he were looking for a milestone.
“’Bout thirty or forty miles,” he said.
“Thanks!” shouted Nelson. There was no reply to this. Doubtless the sailor thought it a waste of time to remove his pipe for a mere polite formality. Presently he and his companions, all save the man at the wheel, disappeared.
The sun grew warmer and the sea calmer. The wind had stolen around into the south and blew mildly across the sparkling waves. There was nothing to do save take life easily, and so Bob and Dan stretched themselves out on the cabin roof, Tom went to sleep in the bow, and Nelson stayed in the cockpit where he could get to the wheel if the necessity arose. At twelve Tom was awakened out of a sound but not silent slumber, and sent below to cook luncheon, and at a little before two bells they ate. By this time they were near enough the shore so that they could distinguish objects. Plymouth was passed at two, and at three the tug was heading into the shallow harbor of Sanstable.
“How much are you going to offer him?” asked Bob.
“The tugboat fellow? I don’t know. What do you think?” said Nelson.
“Well, I suppose he could demand a lot if he had a mind to, but I think ten dollars would be about right, don’t you?”
Nelson thought that it would, and so when the tug slowed down and the man at the wheel of the Lizzie and May tossed them their line Nelson dropped into the tender, which had been put over, and rowed to the tug.
“Ten dollars!” said the captain. “Why, say, young man, I’d tow you around the world for that! No; you give me a couple of dollars for the boys and we’ll call quits.”
“Well, we’re awfully much obliged,” Nelson assured him as he handed up the money.
“That’s all right,” answered the captain, who, on nearer acquaintance proved to be a squat, broad-shouldered man with a grave face lighted by a pair of twinkling blue eyes, “that’s all right. Maybe you can give me a tow some day!” And he chuckled as Nelson assured him of his willingness to do so. The tug and schooner proceeded on up the harbor along the waterfront, and Nelson rowed back to the Vagabond. There Dan joined him with the towline, and the two pulled the launch up to the nearest wharf. The harbor was not large, nor were there many piers, but it was well filled with pleasure craft and small schooners, and every slip was occupied. As there was no chance of getting up to a wharf, they decided to tie up to a schooner—the Henry Nellis—which was landing a load of pine boards.
“We’ll have to stay here until morning,” said Nelson, “so we might as well make the best of it. As soon as we get some gasoline aboard we can run out and anchor in the harbor.”
Luckily they were able to buy their fuel at the head of the wharf where they had berthed, but it was hard work getting it aboard, since they had to carry it down from the little store in five-gallon cans, lug it across the schooner’s deck, and hand it down the side. Dan stayed aboard the launch and the others carried. It was awkward work, and they decided that they would take aboard merely enough for a two days’ run and fill again where things were more convenient. So they put in thirty gallons and called it off. It was then four o’clock, and they decided to go ashore awhile before taking the launch out to her anchorage. After they had reached the village street Nelson stopped.
“Say, I forgot to lock that hatch,” he said. “I wonder if I’d better go back.”
“You closed things up, didn’t you?” asked Bob.
“Yes.”
“Oh, it will be all right, then. Come on!”
They found the post office, and Nelson wrote a brief account of their adventures to his father. When he had signed his name to the postal card he paused and chewed the end of the pen for a moment. Then—
“Look here, fellows,” he said to the others, who were watching the village life through the dusty window, “we ought to decide where we’re going, so that dad can send our mail to us.”
“That’s so,” agreed Tom.
“Let’s keep on to New York, now that we’ve started,” said Bob.
“Well, but you wanted to go to Portland,” answered Nelson doubtfully.
“Never mind Portland. Maybe we can run up there when we come back. Let’s make it New York.”
“All right. Then I’ll tell dad to send our mail to the general delivery at Newport, and we’ll stop for it there the day after to-morrow. How’s that?”
“Sounds good to me,” said Dan.
An hour later they were back at the wharf, having given their legs a good stretching, and were making their way through the piles of lumber which covered the pier.
“It’s time we got here,” observed Bob. “The schooner’s through unloading, and there comes a tug to take her out. Let’s get a move on.”
He led the way across the deck of the schooner and was hailed by a thin, red-faced man, who came hurrying back from the bow.
Bob explained.
“Oh!” said the other. Then, “Say,” he asked, “you ain’t seen a young feller about fourteen around here, have yer?”
Bob replied that he had not.
“Well, if you do, you let me know,” said the captain of the Henry Nellis savagely. “He’s my boy, and if I catch anyone helpin’ him to run away from this ship, there’ll be trouble.”
“Oh, run away, has he?” asked Dan.
“What’s that to you, young feller?” asked the man angrily.
“Nothing,” replied Dan, flushing. “Only if he has, I hope he keeps out of your way.”
“Oh, you do, eh? Well, you get off my deck, do you hear? Get, now!”
“Come on,” whispered Bob. But Dan’s ire was aroused.
“Don’t think I want to stay here, do you?” he asked sarcastically. “You aren’t laboring under the impression that your personal attraction is so great that I can’t tear myself loose, are you? Why, I’ve seen better-looking folks than you in the monkey cage!”
By that time Nelson and Bob were hurrying him unwillingly to the side of the schooner, and Tom, choking with laughter, was scrambling over the rail. The captain choked with anger for an instant. Then he found his voice, and the boys landed on the deck of the Vagabond amid a veritable thunder of abuse. He came to the side of the schooner and continued to give his opinion of them while they cast off.
“Go it!” muttered Dan. Then, seeing the boat hook in Bob’s hands, “Say, let me have that a minute, Bob,” he begged. “Just let me rap him one over the knuckles with it!”
But Bob refused, and the Vagabond slid astern under the amused regard of the crew, who had gathered as the storm broke. Dan waved farewell in the direction of the flaming red face which still regarded them savagely over the rail.
“Write often!” he called.
There was a quickly hushed howl from the crew, the captain disappeared from the rail, and from the subsequent sounds it was evident that he had transferred his attention to his subordinates.
“Gee, isn’t he an old bear!” marveled Dan.
“Don’t blame the boy for running away!” observed Nelson, as he shoved back the hatch and opened the doors. “Take the wheel, Bob, and we’ll run across there toward the bar, where we’ll be out of the way. See that spar over there? Sing out when we get almost up to it and I’ll shut her off.”
“Yes, sir! Very good, sir!” replied Bob, touching his cap ceremoniously.
Nelson went below, and as his feet touched the engine room floor he heard a shuffling sound in the stateroom beyond. With a bound, he was at the door. There was no one in sight. Evidently his ears had deceived him; probably he had heard some one moving on deck. Then, as he turned to go back to the engine, he saw that he had not been mistaken after all. Huddled in the corner of Tom’s berth lay a boy, whose anxious face gleamed pale in the dim light and whose wide, eager eyes stared pleadingly up at him.
“What are you doing here?” demanded Nelson sternly.
His first thought was that the boy had sneaked into the cabin during their absence, bent on theft, and that on hearing their return he had attempted to hide. But the other’s first words disillusioned him.
“Don’t you tell him! Don’t you, please, sir!” begged the boy in hoarse whispers. “I ain’t done any harm here, honest! And if he gets me, I’ll have to go back on the boat, sir, and she’s going away up to Newfoundland, and—and—I just can’t stand it any longer, I can’t!”
“Oh,” muttered Nelson, “I see! You’re—that boy of his.”
“I ain’t his boy, not really!” cried the other eagerly. “He told my mother he’d take me one voyage and make a sailor of me. And I wanted to go; I didn’t know what it was like. And I went up to Casco with him, and when we got here I wanted to go home, and he said I couldn’t because I’d signed on with him for a year. I never signed anything, sir; he was just lying! And we been here more’n a week, and he kept watchin’ me all the time. And to-day I saw your yacht, sir, and I thought maybe he wouldn’t miss me till you’d gone out again, and so I sneaked down here a little while ago. And I ain’t touched a thing; honest, sir, I ain’t! If you’ll just let me stay here till the Henry sails, sir, I’ll get out right away, I will. You ain’t going to tell him, are you, sir?”
“You stay here,” answered Nelson quietly, “and keep still. I’ll see what the other fellows say.”
“Don’t you, please!” whispered the boy, half sobbing. “If he catches me now he’ll whip me awful! Just let me stay a little while, sir, won’t you? I’ll do anything you say——”
“Cut it out!” said Nelson kindly. “I dare say you won’t have to go back, but I’ve got to tell the other fellows and see what they think. Don’t you worry, though; I guess it’ll be all right.”
Nelson hurried back to the cockpit. The Vagabond was floating gently away from the wharf on the outgoing tide. Forty or fifty feet away a small tug was snuggling up to the Henry Nellis, preparatory to towing her outside the harbor. Bob was at the wheel, but he and Dan and Tom were looking intently toward the stern rail of the schooner, where the captain and one of the sailors, the latter a small, swarthy man with rings in his ears, were talking excitedly and looking toward the Vagabond. The next moment the captain hurriedly disappeared, the watchers heard an order given, and three sailors sprang to the stern davits and began to lower the small boat which hung there.
“Now, what’s he up to?” asked Dan resentfully. But before anyone could answer him, Nelson had called to them.
“Here a minute, fellows,” he said softly. “Keep on looking, but move over this way so you can hear me. That boy that the captain spoke of——”
“He’s getting into the boat,” interrupted Bob.
“I’ll bet he’s coming over here, too,” said Dan. “If he tries to come aboard, I’ll plaguey well dump him into the water!”
Nelson paused and watched proceedings. If the captain came aboard, he was certain to find the boy. Perhaps he had every right to, but Nelson didn’t like the idea of giving the youngster up to him.
“Here he comes!” muttered Dan.
“Stand by the wheel, Bob,” said Nelson. “I’m going to start her.” He darted below, turned the gasoline valve, threw on the switch, and bent over the wheel. Once, twice, thrice he turned it over, but the engine refused to start. Perplexedly Nelson stood up and ran his eye over the motor. Then he remembered that the gasoline had not been turned on at the tank since the latter had been filled. It was too late now to run away before the captain of the Henry Nellis reached them. But he hurried forward, opened the outlet valve at the tank, threw a warning glance at the boy, who still sat huddled in the dim corner of the bunk, and returned to the engine. One more lift of the wheel and the engine was running. But he didn’t throw the clutch in and start the boat. Voices outside told him that the captain was already alongside. He hurried up the steps, striving to look unconcerned. The boat from the schooner was bobbing about a couple of yards away. It was manned by two sailors, one of them the man with the earrings, and in the stern sat the captain.
“Say, Nel,” said Bob, as the former appeared, “this gentleman wants to know if he can’t see the launch. Says he’s very much interested in launches.” Bob was very sober, but his left eye, out of the captain’s range of vision, winked meaningly.
“Why, I’m sorry,” answered Nelson, turning to the captain, “but we’re just leaving. The fact is, we’ve got quite a ways to go before dark.”
“Where you going?” asked the captain, smiling ingratiatingly.
“Duxbury,” answered Nelson on the spur of the moment.
“Well, that won’t take you long. You let me see your engine, like a good fellow. I’ve been thinkin’ of getting one of them naphtha launches for a good while.” He made a slight motion with his hand and the sailors dipped their oars.
“Sorry,” replied Nelson firmly, “but we can’t stop. And I shall have to ask you not to come alongside unless you want to take a trip with us. All ready, Bob?”
“All ready.”
Over on the schooner the crew was lining the stern rail, and the tug, too, held its small audience. Nelson turned toward the engine-room door.
“Hold on a bit,” exclaimed the captain. “You listen to me, now. You’d better. You don’t want no trouble and I don’t want no trouble, eh?” He smiled with an attempt at frankness, a smile that made Nelson shiver and caused Dan to clench his fists. “My boy’s run away, and this man here says he seen him getting on to your boat.” He nodded at the sailor with the earrings, who grinned and bobbed his head. “That boy’s bound to me for a year—signed papers, he did—and I’m his lawful guardeen and protector. His mother give him into my care. How am I going to answer her when she asks me where is her boy, eh?”
“More than likely he’s halfway home by this time,” suggested Bob politely.
“If I was sure o’ that,” answered the captain, with a shake of his head, “I wouldn’t mind so much. ’Cause I think a heap o’ that boy, I do, and I wouldn’t have no harm come to him for half my vessel, I wouldn’t.” One of the men in the boat, the one who didn’t wear earrings, choked, and, finding the captain’s baleful glare on him, took a quid of tobacco from his mouth and tossed it overboard as though it were to blame for his seeming mirth. “No, that boy’s on your boat, I tell you,” continued the captain sorrowfully. “He was seen a-climbin’ down into her. Of course, I ain’t sayin’ as you knew anything about it; that ain’t likely, ’cause it’s agin the law to harbor deserters; but he’s there, I’ll take my oath. And so you just let me come aboard and talk to him kindly. I’m like a father to him, and I can’t think what’s got into his head to make him act this way. Pull in, Johnnie.”
“Hold on!” cried Nelson. “I’ve told you that you can’t come aboard, and I mean it!”
The captain’s smiles vanished and gave way to a very ugly scowl which dwelt impartially on the four boys.
“Mean it, do ye?” he growled. “And I mean to have that boy. I’ve got the law on my side, let me tell you that, you young dudes, and I can have you put in jail!”
“Look here, Mr. Whatever-your-name-is,” said Dan impatiently, “you’re talking a whole lot of nonsense. Can’t you see that we haven’t got your boy, and never saw him? If we did have him, you might have reason to kick, for I’m hanged if I’d give him up to you!”
“You’re lying!” cried the other angrily. “He’s in the cabin! You go look and see if he ain’t.”
“No use in my looking,” answered Dan carelessly. “Nelson’s been down, and there’s no place anyone could hide there. You haven’t seen anything of his plaguey boy, have you, Nel?”
Nelson had been fearing that question, and for an instant he found himself in a quandary. He didn’t mean to lie about it, and in spite of the fact that the captain evidently had the law on his side, as he claimed to have, he hated to give the boy up. Already suspicion was creeping into the captain’s face when a way out of the quandary suggested itself. Nelson looked thoughtful.
“Well, it doesn’t seem possible,” he said slowly, “that he could be in the cabin without my seeing him, but what the captain says is so, I guess. If he is here, I suppose it’s our duty to give him up. There’s no harm in being sure, anyhow, and so I’ll take a look around down there. Is he big enough to make a fight?”
“Fight? Him? No; he ain’t got the spunk the Lord gave a duck!” answered the captain disgustedly. Nelson’s manner had imposed on him thoroughly. “But when you find him you call me and I’ll get him out in a shake. I knew you didn’t want to obstruct the law, boys.”
“Oh, I guess he isn’t worth going to law about,” laughed Nelson. “I’ll see if he’s there.”
He turned and made for the door. Bob was still at the wheel. As he passed him he whispered softly: “Ready!”
He disappeared, and Bob slowly, idly turned the wheel.
“He ain’t a bad boy,” said the captain, no longer frowning, “but he’s dreadful stubborn. I told his mother I’d make a man and a first-class sailor of him, and I mean to do it, but it’s— Hi! Stop her! You come back here!”
The quiet throbbing of the engine, running light, had suddenly changed to a deeper note; there was a quick churning at the stern as the propeller lashed the water, and on the instant the Vagabond shot at full speed in a wide curve toward the entrance of the harbor.
“I’ll have the law on you, you robbers!” shouted the irate captain of the Henry Nellis, shaking his big fist after them. “If you don’t stop, I’ll have every last one of you arrested. Hear me, do you?”
Dan knelt on the seat and put his hands to his mouth.
“Say! You go to thunder, will you?” he bawled.
“Hush up, Dan!” said Bob. But he smiled, nevertheless, as he straightened the Vagabond for a run through the channel. Back of them the little boat was bobbing erratically in the wake of the launch, and the captain was still hurling invective after them. Nelson put his head out of the cabin and viewed the scene with satisfaction.
“Is he du-du-du-du-down there?” asked Tom excitedly. Nelson nodded.
“What?” cried Dan. “The kid’s on board? Well, I’ll be blowed!” Then he sat down on the stern seat and laughed till the tears came. “Oh, say, this is great! And there I stood, lying up and down to him! Say, don’t you know he’s peeved?”
“Well, you didn’t know he was here,” said Nelson, “so you weren’t really lying.”
“Pshaw!” said Dan. “I’d have said the same thing if I had known. It isn’t lying to fool an old brute like that!”
“A lie’s a lie, no matter who you tell it to,” answered Tom.
“Look out for that schooner coming in, Bob,” Nelson cautioned. “When you pass the Point, swing her straight across the bay. We’ll try for Provincetown, seeing that I told him we were going to Duxbury.”
“Hello!” cried Dan. “Look there!”
The boat containing the captain of the Henry Nellis was returning as fast as oars could send it, and now it was alongside the tugboat and the captain had leaped aboard her.
“What’s he up to?” muttered Dan.
The Vagabond was dipping her nose into the waves of the bar.
“Oh, he’s beaten,” said Tom, “and he knows it!”
“Like fun he does!” cried Dan. “They’re casting off the tug, and he’s still aboard. I’ll bet you anything——”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Nelson.
“Nonsense be blowed! He’s after us in the tugboat!”
Dan turned and faced the others with a broad smile.
“Now for some fun!” he chuckled.
At that moment the Vagabond swung around the Point and shook herself clear of the harbor waters. But over the low sandspit a sudden cloud of black smoke floated upward, showing that the captain had taken up the chase.
For a moment there was silence in the cockpit of the Vagabond. Nelson and Bob looked serious, Tom somewhat frightened, and Dan as happy as a lark. It was Bob who first broke the silence.
“How fast can one of those tugs travel?” he asked. Nelson shook his head.
“It depends on the tug,” he answered. “That one looked pretty small, and so I guess her engine isn’t very powerful. But even so, it’s likely she can give us a mighty good run.”
“How’s our engine running?” asked Bob.
“Full speed,” was the reply. “If it was dark we could lose them easily, but it won’t be dark for an hour and a half yet. Well, we’ll give them a good chase of it, anyway.”
“Even if they catch us, what can they do?” scoffed Dan. “I’d just like to see them try to set foot on this boat!”
“Well, I guess they could do it if they got alongside,” answered Nelson dryly. “I noticed about five men on that tug.”
“But they haven’t any right to!” protested Tom.
“I don’t believe they’d care much about that,” said Bob. “So what we’ve got to do is to keep away from them. Watch for her at the mouth of the harbor.”
They watched in silence. One minute passed, another; then the tug stuck her blunt nose around the sandspit and headed after the Vagabond. She was a good half mile astern, but from the way in which she was coming it seemed to the boys extremely unlikely that she would stay at that distance very long.
“Gee!” quoth Tom anxiously. “Isn’t she humming!”
“She certainly is,” answered Bob. “But, then, so are we, for that matter.”
“I’ll go down and have a look at the oil cups,” said Nelson. “I’d hate like thunder to have the engine stop at this stage of the game.”
“Gu-gu-gee! If it did!” muttered Tom fearfully.
“Keep your courage up, Tommy,” laughed Dan. “What you need is something to eat. So do I, for that matter. But I suppose we can’t talk supper yet, eh?”
“No; let’s wait until we see how this thing’s coming out,” said Bob. “Where’s the runaway, Nelson?”
“He’s down here,” answered Nelson from below. “I’ve told him what’s up, and he says he’ll go back to his friend if it’s going to get us into trouble.”
“To the captain? Get out!”
“Nu-nu-nu-not on your lu-lu-life!” cried Tom.
“That’s the stuff, Tommy,” said Dan, clapping him on the back. “The old guard dies, but never surrenders, eh? Now, look; you go down and see if you can’t find something we can nibble on—crackers or bread and butter—will you?”
“Yes, there’s plenty of pilot bread,” answered Tom. “Shall I butter some?”
“No; let’s have it au natural, Tommy. That’s French and means something, but I don’t remember just what. No; pilot bread is better without butter. Scoot along, now; we may have a desperate battle before us,” with a wink at Bob, “and we must have our bodies fortified. Whatever that is,” he added, as Tom went below.
“I don’t see that she’s gained any,” said Bob presently.
“No,” answered Dan. “Lost, if anything.”
The welcome news was passed below to Nelson, and he came up to see for himself.
“That’s right,” he said. “They’ve dropped back a little, and I’m mighty glad of it. The fact is, we aren’t getting all our speed. There’s something wrong somewhere, and I guess it’s the gasoline. It was probably pretty poor stuff; full of water, I dare say.”
“But there’s no fear of the engine stopping, is there?” asked Bob. Nelson shook his head.
“Not likely; but she’s missing a spark now and then, and she may do worse than that. I don’t believe we’re doing better than ten and a half miles.”
“Well, if we can beat her at that,” said Dan, “what’s the use of worrying?”
Tom came up with a dish of pilot bread and a jar of marmalade, and there was an impromptu feast in the cockpit.
“How about the kid down there?” asked Dan. “Maybe he’s hungry, too.”
“That’s so,” exclaimed Nelson. “I’ll take some of this truck down to him.” When he returned he said: “Glad you thought of it, Dan; the poor duffer’s putting that pilot bread away as though he hadn’t seen a square meal in an age.”
“Maybe he hasn’t,” said Bob. “I don’t believe the grub’s very good at the captain’s table.”
“Much the fellow down there would know about the captain’s table,” scoffed Dan. “He probably ate in the forecastle.”
“Not if he was cabin boy,” returned Bob. “Cabin boys eat at the officers’ mess.”
“Who said he was cabin boy?” asked Dan. “I’ll bet he was just a—a sort of apprentice. Why can’t we have him up here and hear what the row is?”
“They might see him from the tug,” said Tom, glancing uneasily toward that boat.
“What if they do? They know he’s here, anyhow. Call him up, Nelson.”
And in a moment he appeared at the steps, glanced about him anxiously and diffidently, and stood as though awaiting further instructions. He was a small boy, but he looked hard and healthy. His rather thin face was bronzed by the wind, and the skin on the end of his funny little upturned nose was peeling off, perhaps from the same cause. He didn’t look overly clean, but he had rather nice, honest brown eyes and a serious mouth, at one corner of which, just at present, a flake of pilot bread was adhering. He was dressed in a pair of brown trousers, which were neither long nor short but which left off a good three inches above his shoes, a blue-and-white-striped cotton shirt, guiltless of collar or tie, and a jacket, very much too large for him, of a color once blue and now a queer brownish purple. His hands were broad, and brown and scarred—not at all pretty to look at—with broken and blackened nails. On his touseled brown hair he wore a dirty canvas cap. As the Four observed him for a moment in silence, he took off his cap, awkwardly and hesitatingly, and clutched it in his hands.
“What’s your name?” asked Bob kindly.
“Spencer Floyd,” was the answer in a husky voice that seemed years too old for him.
“Well, Spencer, supposing you sit down there and tell us what the trouble is,” Bob suggested. “Your friend the captain’s after us in the tug back there, but I don’t believe he’ll catch us. What’s the trouble between the captain and you? Let’s hear about it.”
The boy climbed up so that he could see the pursuing tug. He watched it for a moment silently. Then he sat down obediently on the top step and looked at his cap. Evidently he needed prompting.
“Wasn’t the captain good to you?” asked Dan. Spencer shook his head slowly.
“He beat me,” he muttered finally.
“Beat you, did he? What for?”
“’Cause I wanted to go home.”
“Where do you live?” asked Nelson, taking up the role of examiner.
“Mullen’s Cove.”
“Where’s that?”
“Long Island.”
“Oh, Long Island, eh? Folks living?”
“My mother is,” answered the runaway. “My father died three years ago. He was first mate on the Independence.”
“Fisherman?”
“Yes, sir; seiner. She was wrecked on the Banks.”
“Oh!” said Nelson sympathetically. “That was bad, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, sir. He didn’t leave much money, but we own our house, and ma she raises vegetables and sells milk.”
“I see. And where does the captain come in? By the way, what’s his name?”
“Captain Sauder.”
“Not soft solder, I’ll bet,” murmured Dan.
“Is he a relative of yours?” Nelson asked.
“No, he ain’t,” was the decided reply. “But he and my father used to be together on some boat once. And he used to come and see us sometimes. And when father died, he offered to take me and learn me to be a sailor. So ma, she let me go for a year.”
“No, sir.”
“But you stuck it out?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And then what?”
“When my time was up with him I told him I was going to leave and go home. But he said I couldn’t. Said I’d signed articles for two years, and if I tried to get away he’d flog me.”
“Did you try?”
“Yes, sir, about three weeks ago. But he caught me.”
“Did he flog you?”
The boy shivered and nodded.
“Bu-bu-brute!” growled Tom.
“And you say you never signed anything?”
“No, sir, I never did. And I ain’t heard from my mother for most a year, and—and—” He stopped and sniffed, the tears welling into his eyes.
“That’s too bad!” said Nelson. “But don’t you worry. We’ll get you ashore somewhere, and you can get home.”
“I guess he’ll catch me,” said the boy hopelessly.
“Oh, no, he won’t! Got any money?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How much?” Spencer observed his questioner suspiciously for a second. But Nelson’s face showed only kindness and sympathy, and the boy’s eyes dropped.
“’Most two dollars,” he answered.
“Well, that’s not a great deal, is it? Did you get paid on the ship?”
“Fifty cents a month.”
“Gee!” exclaimed Dan. “Isn’t he the reckless captain!”
“Well,” said Nelson, “I don’t pretend to know what the law is in such cases, but I’m for getting Spencer back to his home. Maybe we’ll get in trouble about it, though. What do you fellows say?”
“Trouble be blowed!” said Dan. “If he hasn’t got the law on his side, he ought to have.”
“That’s so,” said Bob. “We’ll help him along. How about it, Tommy?”
“If we du-du-du-don’t we deserve tu-tu-to be ki-ki-ki-ki——”
“You’re missing sparks, Tommy,” warned Nelson.
“Water in his gasoline,” said Dan, with a grin.
“——to be kicked!” ended Tom explosively and earnestly.
“And so we do,” agreed Nelson. “How’s the enemy coming on?”
“Just about holding her own, I’d say,” was Bob’s verdict. “What are your plans, Nel?”
“Make for Provincetown, over there. We ought to reach it a little after dark at this rate.”
“Then what?”
“Put the boy ashore, give him a few dollars, and trust to him to keep out of the way.”
“But look here, Nel. If we land him at Provincetown, he’ll have to come back all around the Cape. That’ll take him an age.”
“There’s the railroad. Why can’t he take a train?”
“Suppose he does? All Captain Chowder, or whatever his name is, will have to do is to go down the Cape and head him off.”
“That’s so,” answered Nelson thoughtfully. “But it seems to me he ought to be able to hide out for awhile. The captain can’t afford to spend much time chasing him. What do you say, Spencer? Do you think that if we put you ashore at Provincetown, you could keep out of the captain’s way?”
Spencer shook his head.
“He’d get me,” he muttered. “He’d say I had deserted, and then they’d be looking out for me along the road.”
“He’s right,” said Dan. “That’s just what would happen. They’d probably telegraph along the railroad, and he’d be yanked back to the Henry Nellis quick-time. That won’t do. We’ve got to think of some other scheme.”
“I wish I’d started up the coast,” said Nelson regretfully. “We might have made Plymouth easily, and if we’d got him ashore there he’d have had the whole State to hide in.”
“Do you suppose the captain will come after him if he gets home?” asked Dan.
“How about that, Spencer?” Nelson questioned. “Do you think the captain would take you away again?”
“No, sir,” answered the boy, with a decisive shake of his head. “Ma wouldn’t let him after I’d told her about his beating me.”
“Well, then,” said Nelson, “what we’ve got to do is to get you home. Let’s see that chart of the Long-Island coast, Dan. It’s down there in the locker.”
The chart was produced and spread out on Nelson’s knees.
“Now, let’s see. Where’s Mullen’s Cove situated, Spencer?”
“It’s near Mattituck, sir.”
“Mattituck, Mattituck,” murmured Nelson. “That has a familiar sound. Let me see, now, where—Oh, here it is! And here’s Mullen’s Cove, too.”
“May I look at it, sir?” asked Spencer eagerly.
“Yes; come here. Here it is, see?”
The boy leaned over Nelson’s shoulder and looked for a long while without saying anything. Then, with a sigh——
“Yes, that’s it,” he said. “That’s where I live—right there.” He placed a blackened finger on the chart. “It—it’s almost like seeing home, ain’t it?” he asked shyly. Nelson didn’t answer, but he folded the chart up in a determined manner and tossed it to Dan.
“You stay right here with us, Spencer,” he said, “and we’ll put you ashore at Mullen’s Cove, if it takes a week to do it. Now I’m going to look at the engine.”
A moment later he was up again and looking anxiously back across the water. The sun was sinking, and the long, level rays were tipping the little waves with gold. In the hollows purple shadows were floating. Back of them, perhaps a little more than a half mile, the tugboat was following doggedly in their wake. Nelson glanced at Bob and their eyes met.
“She’s missing like anything,” muttered Nelson ruefully. “It’s that blamed gasoline we bought this afternoon; seems like it was half water. I’ve done everything I know how, but it doesn’t make any difference. She’s missing about a third of her explosions. I wish to goodness it would get dark!”
“It will be in about half an hour,” answered Bob hopefully.
“I know, but—” He stopped, staring at Bob. The engine had ceased working! But in another instant it had started again. With a frown, Nelson went below. Bob glanced back at the tug. Already it seemed to have gained on them. Dan and Tom were talking to Spencer, and had not noticed anything. The Vagabond had covered some fourteen miles of the twenty that lay between Sanstable and Provincetown, and now the “toe of the boot,” as the tip end of Cape Cod has been fancifully called, lay before them well defined in the last flare of sunlight. Directly to the east the curving coast was perhaps a mile nearer to them than was the harbor of Provincetown, but to alter their course would be giving an advantage to the pursuers, since it would enable them to cut across, and perhaps head off, the Vagabond before port was reached. Bob studied the chart before him and saw that, even if they turned eastward, they would have difficulty in finding a harbor. If the engine would hold out, their best plan was undoubtedly to keep on around the Cape. It was doubtful if those on the tug would care to keep up the chase when they saw that the Vagabond was not putting in at Provincetown; or, if darkness came before they reached the end of the Cape, they could head northwest and perhaps throw the tugboat off the track. But it all depended on the engine. Bob leaned down so that his head was inside the hatchway and listened. The sound that reached him was not reassuring. The engine was missing spark after spark, sometimes stopping for seconds at a time. He raised his head and again looked back over the darkening water. There was no longer a half mile between the launch and the tug, nor anything like it. Unless something happened, very soon the chase was as good as over!
And something did happen, and almost instantly, but not what Bob would have chosen. The engine stopped altogether! Nor, although Bob listened and waited with anxious ears, did it start up again. Dan and Tom and Spencer looked at Bob and one another with inquiring eyes. The moments passed. The Vagabond slowly lost headway. Then Nelson’s face appeared at the engine-room door.
“It’s all up, I guess,” he said quietly. “I’ll have to take the vaporizer apart, and that will take some time. And even then I’m not sure that she’ll work. Where’s the tug?”
“About a quarter of a mile away, and coming like thunder!” answered Dan.
“Well, I’ll be as quick as I can,” said Nelson sadly, “but I guess our goose is cooked!”
He disappeared again, and in the silence that ensued those above could hear the sound of the wrench as it fell to work. Back of them, coming nearer at every turn of her propeller, raced the tugboat.
The Vagabond rolled lazily in the little waves.
Dan began to whistle cheerfully.
Even Barry seemed to appreciate the awkwardness of the situation. He got out of the chair he was occupying, jumped on to the stern seat, put his front paws on the coaming, and looked back inquiringly at the approaching craft, his little black nose sniffing and twitching. Then he jumped down, trotted to the engine-room entrance, looked in, and scratched twice on the brass sill, as though begging Nelson to start up the engine again. After that he climbed to the side deck, from there to the roof of the cabin, and settled down, shivering in the little, chill evening breeze, against the wheel, on which Bob was leaning. He had done his best for them; now they would have to look after themselves; personally he was going to sleep.
Spencer Floyd, anxious but silent, sat, out of sight again, with his back against one of the doors beside the entrance. Dan stood up, hands in pockets of his duck trousers, and watched the on-coming tugboat with smiling face. Tom, too, was on his feet, but he didn’t stand still, nor were smiles visible on his rotund countenance. He went nervously from Dan to the cabin entrance, where he leaned down and asked Nelson how he was coming on. All the reply he received was a growl.
“There’s our friend the captain in the bow,” observed Dan. “Dear old captain! How I long to meet him once more! By the way, Spencer, you’d better go down and keep out of sight as long as you can. My old friend the captain has a quick temper, and the sight of you might infuriate him. It would be awful if he went mad and bit the bow off the tug.”
Tom giggled hysterically.
“Wu-wu-wu-wish he’d fu-fu-fu-fall over-bu-bu-board!” he said.
“The wish does you credit, Tommy,” answered Dan, as he followed Spencer below. “I’ll be right up again, fellows,” he added.
Nelson, on the floor beside the engine, was toiling desperately, the perspiration trickling down his nose. About him lay sections of the brass vaporizer, wrenches, screwdrivers, and nippers. He looked up inquiringly as Dan went by toward the stateroom.
“Oh, she’s about a couple of hundred yards away,” said Dan lightly.
“I’m almost through,” said Nelson. “Keep them off two minutes more, Dan, and I’ll try the engine again.”
“Oh, we’ll keep them off! That’s right, Spencer, my lad, you lie down there and be comfortable. And don’t you worry; old Bluebeard hasn’t got you yet!”
As he went up the steps he turned and called down softly to Nelson:
“Here they are, Nel, coming alongside. But I’ll see that you get your two minutes, so keep agoing.”
The tug’s engine had stopped and she was sliding slowly forward through the water with her bow set for the Vagabond’s port rail. On the forward deck stood the captain of the Henry Nellis, the tugboat captain, and another man, possibly a mate. The cook, a long and much-soiled apron enveloping his portly form, looked on interestedly from the door of the galley. In the wheelhouse was a third hand. On the face of Captain Sauder was a smile of triumph which struck those on the launch as being far more disagreeable than his scowl.
“Pretty smart, weren’t yer?” greeted the captain as the tug floated up. There was no reply, and the captain concluded to attempt sarcasm.
“Real nice of you to stop and wait for us,” he said with a chuckle; “real friendly, I call it.”
“Captain,” answered Dan sweetly and earnestly, “we’ve been simply devastated with grief since we left you. Your gentle words and kindly deeds won our hearts, and we just couldn’t go on without one more sight of your dear face.” (“Keep her off with the boat hook,” he muttered aside to Bob.) “And—yes, you have,” cried Dan joyfully, “you’ve brought your dear face with you, haven’t you? I was afraid you’d change it!”
The captain and the crew of the tug were smiling broadly, but the object of Dan’s raillery went purple in his “dear face,” and his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. (“For all the world,” as Tom said afterward, “as though he was going to bu-bu-bust up!”)
“You young whelp!” he roared.
A bell rang in the engine room and the tug—the Scout, as the gilt letters over the wheelhouse announced—trembled as the propeller was reversed. Up came the bow with its big rope fender, and Bob, boat hook in hand, stood ready. As the tug slid alongside Bob reached out with the hook, and the tug, instead of nestling up to the launch, sheered off.
“Here! What are you doing that for?” yelled Captain Sauder.
“Saving our paint,” answered Bob calmly. There was five feet of water between the two boats.
“Bring your boat hook here!” called the tugboat captain to one of the hands. “You boys might as well give in,” he added, not unkindly. “You’re beat, I guess. Where’s Captain Sauder’s boy?”
“Didn’t you meet him?” asked Dan, in surprise. (“Don’t let that fellow get his hook on to us, Bob!”) “Why, he started to walk back half an hour ago; said he couldn’t stay away from the captain there any longer. Sure you didn’t pass him?”
The tugboat captain chuckled. But Captain Sauder, muttering inarticulate things, seized the boat hook from the deck hand and sprang toward the stern, which was now opposite the cockpit of the launch. There was an eight-foot haft on the hook he held, and he would have experienced no difficulty in reaching the launch had not Bob interfered. But every time the captain tried to get his hook fixed around one of the awning posts or over the edge of the coaming, Bob politely but firmly knocked it away. The captain’s remarks were unfit for publication, and even Barry looked pained. After a moment of this duel the tugboat captain came to the rescue.
“Back her and bring her alongside,” he called to the man at the wheel. The bell rang and the Scout slid back a few yards. The bell rang again, the man at the wheel twirled the spokes around, and the blunt nose of the tug poked its way toward the launch’s quarter. On the bow stood the captain of the Henry Nellis, ready to leap aboard the Vagabond as soon as the boats touched.
Tom, I think, would have liked to saunter below about this time, but to his credit let it be known that he did nothing of the sort. Instead, he stood firmly in the center of the cockpit and grinned pathetically. Dan, glancing swiftly about him, saw that grin and wondered whether Tom would ever be able to get it off again. Then the tug was ready to bump and the moment for action had arrived.
Bob did his best with the boat hook, but the tug had too much way on to be stopped or shoved aside. Bob, although he went red in the face, had to give ground. Then the two boats met with a shock that almost threw Tom off his feet, but did not disturb his grin, and Captain Sauder made ready to jump.
But he didn’t jump, because he happened to look to see where he was going, and in looking caught sight of the revolver in Dan’s hand. The muzzle of it, which was pointing directly at the captain, glistened uncannily in the twilight, and the captain paused. There followed a moment of silence, disturbed only by the sound of Nelson’s hurried footsteps in the cabin. Then——
“Drop that!” roared the captain of the Henry Nellis.
But Dan did nothing of the sort. Instead he asked:
“Where are you going, captain?”
“I’m going to fetch that boy you’ve run away with!” was the answer. “Don’t you think you can scare me with that toy pistol!”
“Nonsense!” answered Dan quietly. “You know this isn’t a toy, captain. It’s got five thirty-two bullets in it, and I’m just dying to see whether they’ll come out if I pull the trigger. It’s a mighty easy sort of a trigger, too,” he added musingly.
Bob and Tom stared fascinatedly, Tom’s grin spreading until it revealed his teeth and made him look like a catfish; or so, at least, Bob declared later on. Captain Sauder stared, too, and so did the others on the tub. But no one seemed inclined to offer advice or to step into the range of Dan’s revolver. Captain Sauder growled and swore under his breath, and his fists clenched until the veins stood out on the backs like cords.
“You’d murder me, would ye?” he said finally.
“Not a bit of it, captain,” answered Dan cheerfully. “I’d do my best to plug you in some place where it wouldn’t really matter very much. But I’m not a dead-sure shot, you know, and I might make a mistake. Anyhow, there’s one thing certain”—and Dan’s voice rang out earnestly—“and that is that if you put your dirty old feet on this deck you’re going to get shot, I don’t know just where, and what’s more I don’t care. You might as well believe that.”
And the captain, looking at Dan’s flashing blue eyes and bristling red hair, somehow did believe it. He shook his fist in Dan’s face.
“I’ll get you yet, my boy!” he growled. “And when I do——”
Turning, he stumbled aft and disappeared into the deck house.
“He’s after a pistol!” warned Bob. “Everyone get to cover!”
Spencer tumbled helter-skelter down the steps, followed by Tom and Bob. But Dan held his ground, although his face paled.
On the Scout everybody seemed for a moment paralyzed. Then the tugboat captain turned and ran clumsily toward the deck-house door, and the sailor who had been holding the two boats together with a boat hook fixed around the after cleat of the launch dropped the haft and disappeared quickly around the other side of the cabin. Probably he thought he was too near the scene of action. Captain Sander must have known where to look for a weapon, for before the tugboat captain had reached the door he was back again with a formidable revolver in his hand and his face convulsed with passion.
“Stop that!” cried the captain of the tug. “You can’t shoot folks on my boat! You haven’t hired me for a warship!” And hurrying to the other, he seized the arm that held the revolver.
“Let go o’ me!” bellowed Captain Sauder.
“You give me my pistol and I will,” panted the other. There was a struggle, in which one sought to wrest away the weapon and the other to keep possession of it and throw off his adversary. Bob, viewing the conflict from the cabin doorway, called to Dan.
“Come down here, Dan!” he commanded. “Don’t be a fool! He’ll shoot you, sure!”
But Dan held his ground, revolver in hand.
Then several things happened simultaneously. Tom pushed Bob aside, hurled himself across the cockpit, locked his arms around Dan’s legs and brought him crashing to the deck; Captain Sauder broke away from his opponent, raised his revolver and fired; and the Vagabond churned the water under her stern and darted away at full speed.