It was absolutely certain that Bissell was not a reckless and over-daring skipper, which is often the most glaring fault of those in charge of sailboats. He erred in the opposite extreme,—he was too timid. He had not pluck enough when it was blowing fresh to keep his sail full. The barges were overhauling her, because she had hardly any headway; and when she went in stays, she had not speed enough to meet the fierce waves.
Dory took the helm, while the skipper, with the bucket, dipper and sponge, soon removed the water from the well. The sail was permitted to fill, and the Silver Moon dashed on her course at a lively rate again. The barges pulling against a head sea could not keep within hail of her when she was on her long tack.
"I have about made up my mind that you can handle this sloop better than I can," said Bissell, when he had wiped out the well with the sponge.
Paul Bristol burst out into a loud laugh at this remark.
"What are you laughing at, Paul?" asked the skipper, looking rather severely at the spare hand.
"I was only thinking it had taken you a long time to make up your mind, Mr. Bissell," replied Paul, suppressing his risibles when he saw that Dory looked as serious as a judge.
"I suppose you think I am not much of a skipper, Paul," added Bissell, evidently annoyed by the laugh of the spare hand.
"I don't know much about sailing a boat, and I think I had better not say anything," answered Paul prudently.
"I never got into such a scrape before with the boat," continued the owner. "This boat will be for sale after I get ashore."
"She is a very good boat, and works well," said Dory; but, cautious in regard to offending the skipper by any criticisms, he was not willing to have the boat blamed for the fault of the man.
"I always thought so myself till to-day; and I have always believed I could handle her better than any other man. It goes a little hard with me to give in to one boy and have another laugh at me," replied the skipper. "I should like to have you tell me just what ails my management of the boat."
"I don't volunteer any criticism; but if you will not be offended with a boy for expressing his mind plainly, I will do so," added Dory.
"That's what I want you to do, and I shall not get mad, though it hurts for me to give in on handling the Silver Moon.
"You are just a little too careful; and that is what has made the mischief every time," Dory began. "If you don't give your boat a good full, she won't go about in stays. That was the trouble when you had the ladies on board."
"The man that showed me how to sail a boat said I could not be too careful," protested Bissell, astonished at the remark of the acting skipper.
"I don't quite agree with him, though he is right in the main. Most of the accidents happen because the skippers are careless. Your sloop was a little out of trim. When it blows too hard for you to carry the jib, you must put a single reef in the mainsail. With a whole mainsail, the mast ought to be farther forward. Since I shifted the ballast, she carries a stronger weather helm."
It was necessary to tack again, and Dory explained more fully what he meant by a "good full," and then put the helm down. The sloop's head flew up into the wind at a lively pace, and the mainsail went over; but the helmsman righted the helm, and met her with it so that she should not fall off too far, thus putting her lee gunwale under.
Bissell was deeply interested, and began to learn what he had not before acquired. He took her, and made the next tack, under the direction of the acting skipper, himself. From that time he retained the helm, and Dory continued to instruct him until the Silver Moon got into comparatively still water.
Dory and his pupil had made more tacks than were necessary, in order to illustrate the subject. The boats came up with the sloop just as she was going in at the wharf. The ladies and the crews were still singing, and their merry voices attracted quite a collection of people.
"When I was over off Button Island I did not expect ever to see Westport again," said Bissell, after he had made the Silver Moon fast at the wharf. "I have only ten dollars in my pocket, now, but I want you to take that and let me owe you another ten."
"You must excuse me, Mr. Bissell," protested Dory.
"It ain't enough, I know; and I will make it up to fifty dollars when I get to the store," added the skipper.
"It is enough, and more than enough, Mr. Bissell. I cannot take a single cent for that kind of service. Captain Gildrock would put me into the brig if I took money for assisting anyone in distress on the water," said Dory earnestly. "Sailors are bound to help each other always when in danger."
The store-keeper pressed Dory quite warmly to take the money, but the latter was as firm as a rock. Then he tried to give a few dollars to Paul, but the spare hand, though he wanted the money for his mother, took his cue from Dory, and refused to take a cent. Bissell expressed his gratitude in very warm terms, and said he should like to take some more lessons in sailing a boat from such a skilful master. He would gladly pay for the time and trouble, and he concluded not to sell the Silver Moon at present.
It was now nearly two o'clock, and the students thought it was about time to attend to the contents of the lunch baskets. The ladies had been landed, and were profuse in their expressions of delight at their trip in the barges. The Beech Hillers landed, and camped under a tree to dispose of their lunch. Dory and Paul joined them, and it took some time for the former to explain what he had done on board of the sloop. He did not say any unpleasant things about the skipper, or dwell upon his mistakes.
Before the boys had made any deep inroads into their stock of provisions, Bissell and the ladies appeared laden with ice cream, pies, and cake, which were a welcome addition to the lunch. The "girls," as Bissell called them, waited upon their deliverers, and gushed over the delightful time they had had in the barges.
"There come the Chesterfield barges," said John Brattle when the clock indicated half past two. "I wonder what they are going to do over here."
"I thought they had business about this time over at Sandy Point," added Tuck Prince.
"Don't say a word about the cottage, fellows," interposed Paul Bristol, with a good deal of earnestness. "I know what they come here for; at least, I think I know."
"Why don't you let on then, Paul?" demanded Phil Gawner.
"They have come over here after Major Billcord, for I am sure he will want to see the cottage pitched into the lake. I am almost sure now that none of them know the house is gone," replied Paul, rubbing his hands with delight when he thought of the disappointment of his oppressors.
"If you like, Mr. Bissell, I will sail down the lake with you as far as Sandy Point," Dory proposed, while the boys were digesting what Paul had said. "The coxswain consents to my absence; but I must return to Beech Hill in the Marian."
"All right, for I want very much to see you sail the Silver Moon with a heavy wind on the beam or over the quarter," replied the store-keeper. "But I must go up to the house and change my clothes, for I am as wet as a drowned rat."
Bissell hastened to his house, which was only a short distance from the head of the landing. The Chesterfield barges had just reached the wharf, and the young gentlemen were coming up the steps. The boats had pulled around under the lee of the land, so that they had not been seen until near the wharf.
The Chesterfield students formed a procession on the wharf, and it was evident that they intended to escort Major Billcord, who was fond of parades, to the boats. The ladies waiting on the students from the other side said this was the meaning of the procession, which was not a strange sight in the streets of the town.
"You will take no notice of them whatever, fellows," said Commodore Chester very impressively. "If they salute us properly, which they are not likely to do, we must be as polite as they are, and more so, if possible. If they call us 'tinkers' and 'chip-makers,' which they are more likely to do, make no answer of any kind. I will report any student who utters an offensive word to them. You all know that this is the order of the principal, and not mine."
For some reason the procession of Chesterfields did not pass near the tree under which the Beech Hillers were lunching. Paul pointed out the elegant mansion of Major Billcord, and the students of the institute marched in that direction.
"While we are waiting for Mr. Bissell, I should like to go up to his house and get my sister's valise, which she left there," said Paul to the coxswain of the Marian.
Dick consented, though he would not have permitted any of the crew to leave without a good reason for it while the Chesterfields were so near. Paul hastened up to the main street. He saw the institute students halt in the grounds of Major Billcord's mansion. They broke ranks, and the magnate was talking to them.
"I will give twenty-five dollars to any student or party of students that will capture that young scoundrel, Paul Bristol, and hand him over to me at Sandy Point." This was what the great man said to a group of half a dozen of the students.
The party in front of him promised to carry out his wishes if he would not mention the matter to the rest of the students.
Paul Bristol saw the conference between the six Chesterfield students and Major Billcord; but he could not hear what passed between them, and had no suspicion that he was the subject of remark. None of them saw Paul when he entered the gate to Mr. Bissell's premises, though his curiosity prompted him to stand there a few minutes to observe the proceedings of the party.
He expected to see nothing more than a sort of reception of the magnate, who was evidently to be their passenger to Sandy Point, and the students proposed to take him to the scene of the afternoon's sport in state. But Major Billcord appeared to have selected the six ruffians best suited to the undertaking in which they were to engage. He had called them aside, and made his offer to them.
Those who were near enough to the magnate to see his face could not help noticing that he had a pair of black eyes. In this respect he was the counterpart of his hopeful son, though the mourning of the latter was of a deeper shade than that of his father. The major had remained in his elegant mansion all the forenoon, for he was more modest in the display of the weeds under his eyes than he was of his person generally. Doubtless he had often looked in his lofty mirrors to observe the condition of his face.
He did not like the looks of himself with the marks Paul had left on his face, for they certainly added nothing to the dignity of his expression. He was a pompous, overbearing, and tyrannical man, and every time he saw his mourning organs they filled him with wrath, and inspired him to seek a wholesale revenge. He did not give a thought to the insult his son had offered to Miss Lily. She was of not the slightest consequence, and it would have been quite proper, in his opinion, for her to submit in silence to the pleasure of the reckless young man.
On the way home from the scene of his signal defeat at the hands of Paul Bristol, he had called at the institute, and intimated that he had a mission for the students, at the point, on the following day. He wished them to call for him at his house in the afternoon, and he would insure them an hour or more of the liveliest recreation. He did not say what he had in view, and he had cautioned Walk not to mention the business in which the young men were to be engaged.
As Walk went home with his father, he had no opportunity to let the cat out of the bag, even if he had been so disposed. Father and son had spent the rest of the day in studying out an adequate punishment for Paul. If they could have "hung, drawn, and quartered" him, it might have satisfied them. Walk suggested that he should be prosecuted, and that the justice would send him to prison for a month or two. But his father saw that such a course would bring out the whole story of the son's assault upon Miss Lily, and the judge might not regard the affair in the same light as the sufferers did.
They could agree upon nothing, but before morning Major Billcord had devised the scheme he had now taken the first step to carry out. He thought it wise not to implicate his son in the outrage, for he might be prosecuted and compelled to pay a fine for himself and those he employed to do the actual work. The vengeance of the magnate was to be administered to Paul at Sandy Point. The plant for the black eyes had been set out near the doomed cottage, and it was proper that the punishment should be inflicted on the same spot.
Walk Billcord had not been in condition to return to the institute that day, for he did not care to put his mourning on exhibition, and to answer all the questions that it would call forth. But he was going to Sandy Point in the boat to which he belonged, for he was anxious to take part in the destruction of the cottage. After the students marched up to the mansion of the magnate, they had informed him of the presence of the Beech Hillers, and of Paul, in Westport. The story of the Silver Moon's mishap had been related to them at the wharf when they landed. The students from the other side had come to the town to convey the ladies from the disabled boat; and this sufficiently accounted for their presence.
Nothing was said about Paul, except that he had come in the sloop. Major Billcord had no doubt that his stalwart foe was still staying at the point, and he had arranged his plan on the supposition that he would be found in that vicinity. But when he was informed of his presence in Westport, he had been obliged to make a slight change in his scheme. He had not intended to mention it till the students landed at Sandy Point. He had before selected his ruffians, and he was simply obliged to make his offer a little sooner than before arranged.
Paul Bristol went into Mr. Bissell's house and obtained his sister's valise. As he was about to depart, the owner of the Silver Moon came down stairs in his changed dress, with a letter in his hand.
"Paul, do you know where Captain Bleeker lives?" asked Bissell, as soon as he saw the boy with the valise in his hand.
"Of course I do," replied Paul. "I used to work for him on his place when he had anything for me to do."
"I am going to Sandy Point in the sloop, and Dory is waiting for me," continued the skipper. "I am in a hurry to be off, and if you will go round by Captain Bleeker's and leave this letter at his house, I will carry your valise down to the boat. I will put it on board of the Marian."
"All right, if you will tell the coxswain to wait for me; for I suppose I am to go in the barge," replied Paul, as he took the letter.
Bissell hastened to the wharf with the valise, and Paul started for his destination, which was on a street in the rear of Major Billcord's mansion. The procession had re-formed in the spacious grounds to escort the magnate to the wharf. The six ruffians had been excused from marching in the line, by request of the major, and they were consulting in regard to their mission in the street in front of the house.
Paul was obliged to take a cross street to reach the house of Captain Bleeker, and he had to pass within a few rods of the elegant mansion. As he turned the corner, the chief of the six ruffians, who was called Buck Lamb by his fellow-students, discovered him, and the conference came to a sudden conclusion. The time for council had passed, and the time for action had come. Buck Lamb was an acknowledged leader, and, without any appointment as such, he assumed the position and began to give off his orders.
Paul was in sight, going up the cross street with a letter in his hand. The back street ran parallel to the main street, and the object of the attack must be going to some house in that direction. Buck sent two of his force to the cross street next beyond that taken by Paul, with orders to intercept the victim if he went that way. Two more were to remain near the mansion of the magnate, and Buck himself, with Ham Jackson, followed Paul. One of the two parties was sure to meet him, or if they failed, by any accident, the pair on the main street were in position to capture him. It was a quiet little place, and there was scarcely a person in the streets after the procession had marched to the wharf.
Paul Bristol, all unconscious of what had been done to make him a prisoner, walked with a rapid step towards the house of the person to whom the letter was addressed. He had not noticed the movements of the six ruffians, or even that any of the Chesterfields had been left behind. He was thinking that the students would soon reach Sandy Point with Major Billcord, and he was engaged in picturing their astonishment and disappointment when they discovered that the cottage had taken to itself wings, and that the locality had assumed its original appearance.
He went up to the door of the house, and rang the bell. It was answered by Captain Bleeker himself. He seemed to be somewhat surprised when he saw Paul, for he had been expecting another person.
"Is that you, Paul? I was in hopes that it was Bissell; for I expected an important letter as soon as the mail got in, and he promised to bring it over to me," said the captain.
"He asked me to bring the letter over, and here it is," replied Paul, as he handed the important missive to him.
"Good! It contains a draft which I need as much as I need the air I breathe," added Captain Bleeker, as he took the letter, and thrust his hand deep into one of his trousers pockets, drawing forth a quarter. "I am more glad to see you than I should be to meet my grandmother, who died twenty-five years ago. Here is something to prove it;" and he handed him the quarter.
"I don't want anything for this errand; I only did it because Mr. Bissell asked me to."
"Take the money," said the captain imperatively. "If you come over here in about a week, I shall have something for you to do, for it will be time then to hoe the garden."
"I don't think I can come, sir, for I have a place now, with steady work, on the other side of the lake," replied Paul.
"All right," added Captain Bleeker, as he broke the seal of the letter, and proceeded to close the door, manifesting no interest in the messenger's new position.
Paul put the quarter in his pocket, thinking there had been no time in two years when it was so little needed as at present, thanks to Captain Gildrock. But he did not lose a moment, for he thought that by this time the crew of the Marian might be waiting for him. He walked at his most rapid pace up the street in the direction by which he had come. There was not a person to be seen in the back street, though Buck Lamb and Ham Jackson had reached the corner.
Paul saw them approaching him on the same side of the street. If he had seen them in the neighborhood of the institute, he might have known them; as it was, he did not recognize them, though they wore the barge uniform. Being in a hurry, he deserted the sidewalk to cut off the angle at the corner of the street. But the two ruffians promptly placed themselves in front of him in the middle of the highway.
"Stop where you are!" said Buck Lamb, in an imperative tone.
"What am I to stop for?" asked Paul, with a smile, and with the simplicity of an infant.
"You are to stop because I order you to do so," replied Buck, who was of the genus bully, and could not well help manifesting authority, whether he had it or not.
"As I am in a hurry to join my boat, I don't think that is a sufficient reason for my stopping," replied Paul, with abundant cheerfulness. "If you will excuse me, I had rather not stop just now."
"But I order you to stop!" said Buck savagely.
"Oh, you do!" added the intended victim. "Then I must take the liberty to disobey your orders."
"When I order you to stop, I mean to enforce my order," said Buck, with his teeth set fast together.
"I can't stop to jaw with you now; for, as I told you, I am in a hurry," replied Paul, beginning to be a little indignant at the interruption.
"If you move another step, I shall hit you," continued the bully, placing himself in front of the victim, with his fists clinched ready to execute his threat.
Paul dodged back, and attempted to pass the ruffians, but Buck got in front of him again.
Buck Lamb evidently considered himself as more than a match for Paul Bristol, for neither Walk Billcord nor his father had given the students the particulars of the battle at Sandy Point. All the magnate said was that he and his son had been insulted and assaulted by the ungrateful son of the woman he had harbored on his land. Buck was a stout fellow, who had the reputation of possessing scientific skill in the noble art of pugilism, and who was ready for any fellow of his avoirdupois, either with soft gloves or with hard gloves, or with no gloves at all.
Happily, Paul had no knowledge of the reputation of the bully, which the more knowing of the students would have said was only reputation. In his ignorance of the accredited accomplishments of Buck Lamb, Paul was not in the least afraid of him. Possibly, though not probably, if he had known what a bruiser the leader of the six ruffians claimed to be, he would have taken to his heels and escaped in the best way he could, or expressed his willingness to obey the imperative order of his assailant.
Buck not only intercepted his intended victim, but he levelled a blow with his iron fist, as he called it, at the modest nose of Paul Bristol. This was enough to satisfy the son of toil, who had often hoed corn and potatoes in the garden near the corner, that his opponent meant business. He parried the blow aimed at him successfully, and it was the right time for him to have returned it; but Paul did not yet mean business, for he was not a fighting character, and despised the whole subject of pugilism. Instead of striking, he looked about him for the means of escape, and discovered two more of the ruffians running with all their might towards the scene of the encounter. They wore the uniform of the barges of the institute, as did Buck and Ham. There was no chance of escape, and Paul was beginning to get a glimmering idea of the purpose of the assault. He concluded that the fellows before and behind him were to punish him for what he had done the day before at Sandy Point.
Buck Lamb did not wait for the second pair of the ruffians to join him; and in that he made a bad mistake for himself. His blow had been parried, and he began to think that his antagonist had some skill in the sublime art of pugilism; in this he was again mistaken, for Paul had never learned the first thing about it. He was fully roused, and he aimed a second blow at Paul, which was not as successfully warded off as the first had been, and he received a portion of its force in his right cheek.
Perhaps this hit was needed to render Paul fully equal to the needs of the occasion; at any rate, it roused all the tiger of his nature, and then he was ready for anything that might come. He attempted to parry the blow with his left arm; but as soon as the hit was felt on his cheek, he struck a tremendous blow with his right hand. It was the stroke of a son of toil, whose muscles had been hardened by constant labor. It fell between the eyes of the bully, which seemed to be a favorite locality for Paul.
The pugilist of the institute reeled backwards, and then fell over into the dirt in the middle of the street. Doubtless he saw all the stars his vision could encompass, and his ideas were awfully confused. At any rate, he did not "come to time," but lay on the ground where he had fallen.
Ham Jackson was appalled at the result of the first onslaught, which was accomplished in a tenth part of the time it has taken to narrate it. Perhaps he was not a pugilist; but it was certain from his actions that he was not prepared for the state of things now existing. He seemed to be quite as much bewildered as his companion in the dirt. But he recovered himself more quickly, and rushed upon Paul with the apparent intention of seizing him by the collar of his coat. But the son of toil did not know what he meant, and only saw him coming. Without waiting to inquire into his purpose Paul gave him the counterpart of the blow which had upset Buck Lamb. The effect was precisely the same, and Ham went over backwards.
The two students approaching from the rear were only a few rods distant, and Paul did not wait for them to come any nearer. As he would gladly have done in the first place, he took to his heels and ran as fast as he could towards the main street. Before he reached it, he looked back to see if his enemies were pursuing him. The two who had just come up with their unhorsed companions were picking them up, and there was no effort yet made to overtake him.
Paul slacked his speed to a walk, and as he approached the main street he saw two more students in the barge uniform. The instant they discovered him, they rushed to a position in front of him. One of them commanded him to stop; but he declined to do so. One of them attempted to seize the collar of his coat, and Paul felt obliged to hit again. His blow was parried better than either of his former assailants had been able to do it, but he repeated the attempt with success. The blood spurted from the nose of the foremost student, but he was not upset by the shock.
Both of them came upon him then, the second putting one of his feet between Paul's legs while he was attending to the first, and tripping him up. Down went the son of toil, and the two ruffians pounced upon him with the intention of holding him till the rest of the party joined them. But Paul did not hold still worth a cent; and with his great strength he shook off his assailants.
The last couple were more plucky than the first had proved to be, and they followed him up very closely. The victim rained blows upon them without regard to the belt, hitting them where he could. He was furious, and raging like a lion. It was a very uneven combat, and Paul was rapidly exhausting himself. The second of his present antagonists used his boots almost exclusively. He kicked the son of toil in the shins, and labored to trip him up again. Just as Paul had given the one who used fists a blow between the eyes, which upset him, the leg operator succeeded, by an attack in the rear, in bringing the victim to the ground.
As soon as Paul was down, Mad Twinker, who was the one who demonstrated with his boots, jumped upon him, and clawed his fingers into the throat of the unfortunate son of toil. Just at this moment the party from the back street came up, and the two fresh ruffians assisted Mad in securing the victim. They had obtained a couple of pieces of bedcord at the house of the major, and they tied his arms behind him.
Paul was so exhausted that he could make no further resistance, and he submitted to be bound. His breath was hardly shorter than that of his last opponents, who were now wiping the blood from their faces. The ruffians had earned their money, so far as the capture of the victim was concerned; and it only remained for them to deliver the prisoner to Major Billcord at Sandy Point.
Two of the ruffians went to a pump and wet their handkerchiefs, with which they washed their own faces. Paul's handkerchief was taken from his pocket, and the stains of blood were removed from his battered face. In a few minutes they had wiped away the traces of the conflict. Then two of the students, one on each side, took Paul by the arms and marched him towards the wharf. When they came in sight of it, they saw that all the barges were manned, and had pulled a short distance from the shore, where they awaited the absent members of the crews. The Beech Hillers had taken position off the end of the pier, while the Chesterfields were near the land.
There was still quite a collection of people on the wharf, drawn thither for the purpose of seeing the barges, and possibly expecting a race or a fight, the latter being more probable in the opinion of the spectators; the battles of the previous season having been duly reported in the town. The Silver Moon, with Bissell and Dory in the standing-room, was running with the wind on her beam for Scotch Bonnet. The six ruffians halted when they came in sight of the wharf, and gathered around their prisoner.
"This will never do," said Mad Twinker, shaking his head. "We can't take him through that crowd of people on the wharf."
"That's so," replied Buck Lamb, who had lost some of his prestige since his overthrow, and Mad Twinker had come to the front. "Four of us can handle him well enough now. Jeff Monroe, and you, Steve Douglas, go and get Bissell's four-oar boat."
"Bissell isn't there now," replied Jeff.
"Stop at his store as you go along, hire it for a couple of hours, and get the key," continued Mad Twinker. "Pull up to the creek at the head of the bay, and we will meet you there."
Though there appeared to be no one in the streets, for all the idlers had gone down to the wharf, there were people in the houses. Among the latter was Miss Susy Wellington, who had pulled an oar in the Marian. She had gone home to change her wet dress for a dry one, and saw from her chamber window the capture of Paul Bristol by the ruffians. She had heard something in the boat about Paul's battle with Major Billcord and his son, and she had some idea of the occasion of the assault upon the son of toil.
While Mad Twinker and his fellow-ruffians were hurrying their prisoner to the creek, she hastened down to the wharf. On her way she stopped at Bissell's store, where she had worked with Lily Bristol. She learned that her employer had gone off in the sloop again, and that some of the Chesterfields had just hired the four-oar boat. She continued on her way, and soon saw the two students in her employer's boat, pulling rapidly towards the head of the bay. When she reached the end of the wharf she waved her handkerchief to the Marian, and beckoned with all her might with her hand.
Dick Short gave the order "Stern all!" and the barge backed up within hail of the fair oarswoman. The coxswain asked her if she desired to pull an oar in the barge again.
"We are waiting for Paul Bristol, and he ought to be on board by this time," added Dick. "If he don't come, you can take his place."
"No, I thank you, Mr. Coxswain," replied Miss Susy, and she proceeded to detail what she had seen from her window.
"Paul a prisoner!" exclaimed Dick, thoroughly aroused by the intelligence. "Stand by! Give way lively!"
He ran the Marian under the stern of the Gildrock, and reported the astounding intelligence to Commodore Chester.
"A prisoner!" exclaimed Oscar, startled by the news. "Where is he now?"
"Do you see that boat near the head of the bay? Two of the six fellows who captured Paul were sent for the boat, while the others took him in that direction."
"This looks like serious business. The Chesterfield barges both lie between us and that small boat," continued Oscar Chester.
The Gildrock was hauled around so that the commodore could confer with Thad Glovering. The details were repeated so that all the students in the three barges heard the whole story.
"It looks as though the rascals were going to bring Paul off in that boat, and put him on board of the Racer or the Dasher," which were the names of the two Chesterfield barges.
"Then, if we pull up there in a hurry, we may be able to get him away from them," added Thad Glovering.
"On the other hand, if the fellows in charge of the prisoner see our barges coming, they will put Paul ashore."
It was a difficult point to settle.
It was finally decided by the commodore that all the Beech Hill barges should proceed to the head of the bay, and if the ruffians landed with their prisoner, or did not put him in the boat, they should follow them on shore and rescue Paul at all hazards. Oscar Chester gave the word, and the Gildrock dashed off, with the other two barges following her. The crews were not spared, and the boats appeared to leap over the water, which was tolerably smooth under the lee of the land.
The Chesterfield barges still lay near the shore, above the wharf, and in order to avoid them the commodore headed the Gildrock across the bay. In the absence of the spare hand and Dory, the Marian was one oarsman short, and Dick Short missed the stroke very much. The Silver Moon was not more than a quarter of a mile from the wharf, for Dory was showing off the sloop in various points of sailing. Very likely he desired to keep the Beech Hill barges in sight as long as the Chesterfields were near.
Dick Short waved his handkerchief in the direction of the sloop. Dory saw the signal, and headed the Silver Moon to the head of the bay. Before the commodore changed the course of the fleet, he ran across the stern of the Marian.
"The Chesterfields have made Paul a prisoner!" shouted Dick Short.
Dory heard the announcement, and then the sloop passed out of speaking distance. He was not a little astonished at the information, and fully realized the peril of the son of toil. Glancing at the Chesterfield barges, he saw Major Billcord seated in the stern-sheets of the Dasher, and it did not need a very vivid imagination to comprehend the programme of the enemy.
"I must ask you to excuse me to-day, and I will come over some other time when the wind blows, and put the Silver Moon through her paces," said Dory to the owner of the sloop.
"What's the trouble here?" asked Bissell.
The acting skipper explained the situation to him, including enough of the proceedings at Sandy Point the day before to enable him to understand it.
"Major Billcord is as savage as a wild hyena when he gets mad," added Bissell. "He is bound to have his own way against everybody else. He tries to rule the town, though most of the people hate him."
Dory tacked and stood back to the Marian. He hailed the coxswain and asked to be taken on board. Dick told him to come alongside as quick as he could, and he would be ready for him.
"I wonder if I can't do something to help you," said Bissell. "You fellows have done me a good turn to-day, and I shouldn't mind helping you out if I could."
"You will only offend Major Billcord, and I think we can manage the affair," replied Dory.
"No matter whom I offend; Paul worked well in the sloop, and he seems to be the bottom dog in this business, and if I see a chance to do anything for him I shall do it, if the major bu'sts over it."
By this time the Marian was close under the bow of the Silver Moon. Dick checked the headway of the barge, and Dory put the helm down. Up went the starboard oars on the Marian, and the sloop was alongside of her the next minute. Dory leaped into the stern-sheets, and took his place at the stroke oar. The sailboat fell astern, and the crew gave way again.
Dick gave Dory all the information he had in regard to the capture of Paul. Both of them were satisfied that the poor fellow would be beaten half to death if he was not rescued from the enemy. By the time the story had been told, the Gildrock changed her course, and pointed her bow for the creek at the head of the bay. On the shore they could see several young men in the uniform of the Chesterfield barges, and they could be no other than the captors of Paul. The four-oar boat was just making a landing.
When the commodore changed his course, the barges of the two schools were at about the same distance from the mouth of the creek. Oscar's strategy had given Beech Hill this equal advantage. The movement of the barges created a sudden sensation on board of the Racer and the Dasher. Major Billcord began to demonstrate, and a good deal of violent jawing came from the crews. The magnate had seen the two ruffians take the boat from the wharf, and pull to the head of the bay. He could not fail to understand that the prisoner was to be brought off in her.
Doubtless, he commended the prudence of the ruffians in avoiding the crowd on shore. He had kept faith with his hired villains for his own sake as well as for theirs, and he was the only person in the barges who expected Paul to be put on board, or who comprehended the movements of the six absentees from the boats. It was evident to him that the Beech Hillers had discovered what was going on, though it was a mystery to him how they had obtained their information, for the coming of Susy Wellington had not been observed.
"Run for the head of the bay, Jack Woodhorn!" exclaimed Major Billcord, when he saw the Beech Hill barges headed in that direction. "You must get there before those rascals from the other side do, or they will thrash the six boys of the institute who are there."
"We can't do anything, sir; we are four oars short in this boat, and two in the other," replied the coxswain of the Dasher.
"Don't waste a second, Jack!" protested the magnate. "Do the best you can. You have the inside track, and you ought to beat them with half a crew."
Woodhorn gave the order to give way, and the eight rowers in his boat were soon pulling with all their might. The Racer followed her, and, having ten oars, she passed her. It looked like a race between the two schools, though it was a very unequal one. The Chesterfield students had improved in rowing a great deal since the last season, but discipline was still the wanting element in their organization, and though they had never measured speed with the Beech Hill boats, they were no match for them.
The boys from the other side did not seem to hurry themselves, but only pulled a steady and strong stroke. In five minutes it was clear enough that they were beating their opponents. The magnate urged the Chesterfields to greater exertion, and did more harm than good by his ill-timed interference.
Dory had shaken out the reef in the Silver Moon, and made an additional change in the ballast, so that she was now behaving remarkably well. Bissell had run over to the north side of the bay, and now had a slant which would carry him to the mouth of the creek. Oscar Chester had kept his gaze fixed on the party on the shore. He saw the six ruffians, and recognized Paul Bristol with his arms still bound behind him. The four-oar boat lay at the mouth of the creek, but the six ruffians had retreated to the high ground in the rear of the landing.
The approach of the three Beech Hill barges had completely upset the calculations of the ruffians. They stood looking down upon the lake, and appeared to be entirely non-plussed. The Gildrock was bearing towards the Westport side of the bay, and was coming between the shore and the Chesterfield barges. It was plainly folly to put the prisoner into the boat that had come for him. In the barges there were thirty-five Beech Hillers, and only twenty belonging to the institute. Besides, the boats from the other side had always been victorious over their own.
The Gildrock came to a stand, with the crew lying on their oars, and the other two barges followed her example at the order of the commodore. If the Chesterfields advanced, they would have to break their way through the Beech Hill line of boats. Jack Woodhorn ordered a halt before he came up with the formidable line in front of him. Colonel Buckmill, the principal, who was not present, had told the students of the institute never to come in collision with any of the boats from the other side, and the coxswains were disposed to obey their orders, especially as all the chances were against them.
"What are you stopping for, Jack Woodhorn?" demanded Major Billcord, when the oarsmen in the Dasher brought their blades to a level.
"We can go no farther without running into those barges," replied the coxswain.
"Run into them, then! Smash them if they don't get out of your way. Are you afraid of those chip-makers?" blustered the magnate.
"The principal ordered us never to come in collision with any of the boats from the other side, sir," replied Woodhorn respectfully.
"Are you going to leave your fellow-students on the shore to be mauled by those rascals?"
"I don't believe the tinkers will meddle with them as long as they stay on shore."
"But you want the rest of your oarsmen, and I want you all at Sandy Point. There is the biggest pile of fun for you over there that you ever had in your lives," continued Major Billcord, moderating his tone a little when he found his own wishes were in conflict with the orders of the principal.
Neither Jack Woodhorn nor Phil Fessenden, the coxswain of the Racer, was disposed to get into a row with the Beech Hillers. Both of them had been in the barges the summer before in all their tilts with the Gildrock and the Winooski, and they had learned wisdom from experience. It was in vain, therefore, that Major Billcord coaxed and threatened them. With a pair of black eyes out of the battle of the day before, Walk was hardly inclined to support his father, though he was quite as anxious as the magnate to get Paul into their possession.
For full a quarter of an hour the boats remained in the same relative position. The six ruffians on the shore had come to the conclusion that there was no getting out of the deadlock, and that the only way for them to earn their money was to march their prisoner to Sandy Point by land, a distance of two miles.
Bissell had run the Silver Moon into the mouth of the creek, and had been waiting for some movement on the part of the combatants in which he might do something to serve his friends. The ruffians were jawing among themselves as to what it was best to do, but he could not hear enough of their talk to understand their plans, if they had any. The skipper's patience was exhausted, and, taking his painter in his hands, he went on shore. Securing the rope, he walked up the bank.
"What are you trying to do?" he asked, addressing his remark to Mad Twinker.
"We want to put this fellow on board of the Dasher," replied the leader, as he had been since the overthrow of Buck Lamb.
"Well, why don't you do it?" asked Bissell briskly.
"Because the tinkers will interfere."
"I will take him in the Silver Moon if you like," added the skipper indifferently.
"Will you take the rest of us too?" asked Mad.
"Yes; I can carry a dozen well enough," replied Bissell.
About all the students were small customers at Bissell's store, and were well acquainted with him. They had no suspicion of any treachery on his part.
"What are you going to do with Paul Bristol, Mad Twinker?" inquired Bissell, as they marched him down to the sloop.
"We are not going to do anything with him. Major Billcord wants to see him, and we promised to take him over to Sandy Point for him," answered the chief ruffian.
"Oh, that's all, is it?" added the skipper. "What is the major going to do with him?"
"We don't know; and it's none of our business."
"Of course it isn't," replied Bissell cheerfully, as he hauled up the bow of the boat so that the party could get on board. "How are you feeling now, Paul?"
"I think I am all right. I have got some hard cracks since I saw you at your house, but I guess I shall come out of it all right," replied the prisoner, looking with interest and anxiety into the face of the store-keeper.
Just then, while the ruffians were picking their way into the boat, Bissell gave the prisoner an almost imperceptible wink, which Paul saw and comprehended. It was full of hope to him, for he did not see how the skipper could deliver him over to the magnate after the good service he had rendered, in his humble way, on board of the Silver Moon. Besides, he was a Beech Hiller now, and the store-keeper knew it. He was under great obligations to them, and Paul did not believe he would betray one of their number.
The skipper had not lowered his mainsail when he made the landing, and the sloop was all ready to shove off. After two of the ruffians were in the standing-room, the prisoner was conducted on board between two others. At this point, Bissell went on board and took a stand near the tiller.
"It blows like Sam Hill to-day," said he, "and I want you to keep your places, and not move out of them. There are eight of us now, and sit four on a side. Here, Paul, you sit there," and he shoved the prisoner into the place next to his own, on the port side.
"But you won't have to go out into the rough water to get to Sandy Point," suggested Mad Twinker.
"We must go out some distance, for there is hardly any wind under the bluffs," replied the skipper. "You take a seat in that corner, Mad;" and he crowded him into the place opposite his own.
The other ruffians were arranged to suit him, and then he shoved the sloop off into deep water. The sail filled on the port tack, and the Silver Moon went off with the wind a little abaft of the beam. The shore was low at the head of the bay, and the sloop got her full share of the breeze. She struck into an eight-knot speed at once.
"It was lucky for us that you came up to the creek, Mr. Bissell," said Mad Twinker, as the boat shot ahead.
"Perhaps it was," replied the skipper; but there was not much enthusiasm in the remark.
"Those villains from the other side blocked us in so that we couldn't do anything, and we were thinking of walking Paul over by land," added the leader. "But some of us are about used up, and we did not like the idea of such a tramp through the woods."
As he spoke he glanced at the battered faces of some of his companions. They all looked as though they had been through the wars.
"The head boat of the tinkers is swinging around," said Alf Sumner, as the Gildrock turned her bow towards the shore.
"I wonder what they are going to do now," added Mad Twinker, with no little anxiety in his expression.
"The rest of the tinker boats are following her," continued Ham Jackson.
The Gildrock made a graceful sweep before the sloop came up with the position of the last barge in the line, and was abreast of the Silver Moon about as soon as she was under full headway. The Beech Hillers now laid themselves out, though they could hardly expect to keep up with the sailboat in that wind.
"Can't you outsail those barges, Mr. Bissell?" asked Mad Twinker.
"Every time when we have as much breeze as we have now," replied the skipper. "And we shall have a good deal more before we have any less."
"There goes the Dasher," said Alf Sumner. "The Racer is after her."
"And both of them will be a long way after the tinkers," added Ham Jackson.
"We want you to put us ashore on the Sandy Bay side of the point," said Mad Twinker. "Of course, we shall pay you the dollar an hour for the boat and boatman for all the time we have her."
"That's all right," answered the skipper, as he headed the Silver Moon farther out into the bay, and let off the main sheet to suit the change.
In a few minutes more the boat was in rough water, and she began to pitch and roll in a manner somewhat trying to the nerves of persons not used to it. The six ruffians, who were no boatmen, for they had very seldom been allowed in a sailboat, did not like it.
"What's the use of going out so far from the shore, Mr. Bissell?" demanded Mad Twinker.
"I don't think it is safe to sail near the bluffs, for the wind is flawy and snappish there," replied the skipper. "I don't know but I shall have to put a reef in the mainsail, for the gusts come heavier than I thought for."
As he spoke he hauled out a lot of rope from the locker under the tiller. He began to fuss over the lines to find a reef pendant. He took his knife from his pocket, and cut one of them off the right length. He laid the knife down by his side on the seat, and then returned all the ropes, except the one he had cut off, to the locker.
"I may not want to reef, but it is best to be ready," continued the skipper, shifting the tiller a couple of notches on the comb. "Do you think those barges will come up with us, Mad?"
"I should judge that they would not," replied the leader.
"The Beech Hillers are putting in some strong strokes," added Bissell.
"So are our boats," replied Mad.
"They are getting up quite a smart race. Will you fellows bet on your own boats?" asked the skipper, with a cheerful smile.
"Of course we won't while the Dasher is four hands short of her complement," said Jeff Monroe.
"But your boats are doing their prettiest, and I shouldn't wonder if they got the best of it in the end. Don't you see that the Dasher is gaining on the Marian?" continued Bissell, with a great deal of earnestness.
"I don't think she is gaining at all," put in Steve Douglas.
But the six ruffians were gazing with all their eyes at the five barges; and this was the one thing that Bissell most desired. While he held on to the tiller with his right hand he had picked up his knife with the other. Reaching around behind him, he got hold of the cord which bound Paul Bristol. Making sure that the blade was in the right place, in which he was assisted by the prisoner, he cut the rope.
"Is the Dasher gaining anything, Mad?" he asked when he had accomplished his purpose without attracting the attention of the ruffians.
"Not a hair; she is losing, and the tinkers are running away from our boats. They ought to when our fellows are short-handed."
"I guess you are right, Mad," added the skipper, as he looked about him, as if in search of something. "The wind comes stronger and stronger, and I think I shall want my long tiller. It is in the cuddy forward; Will you hand it to me, Jeff Monroe?"
Jeff produced the spare tiller, and passed it astern to the skipper. It was about three feet long, and was made of the toughest oak. Bissell took it, and placed it at his side, between himself and the prisoner. Though Paul knew that his arms were free, he had not removed them from the position in which the cord had kept them, and no one but the skipper suspected that he was not still in bonds.
All that the owner had said about rough seas had been uttered to blind the six ruffians. It was rough, but not nearly so bad as it had been in the forenoon farther from the land. Bissell had become more interested that day in sailing a boat than he had ever been before. He had obtained a good many new ideas on the subject, and was really desirous of reducing them to practice. Without saying anything about his intention, he had gradually let off the sheet, and put up the helm until the Silver Moon was now a full mile from the shore, and was exposed to the entire force of the moderate gale.
The Beech Hill barges followed the sloop, but the Chesterfields were inclined to keep near the shore. The latter were short-handed, and this was doubtless their excuse. The sailboat was now at least half a mile from the Gildrock. Bissell was glowing with his new ideas, and he was disposed to profit by the instructions of the skipper of the Goldwing while they were fresh in his mind. Suddenly he hauled in the sheet, and threw the sloop up into the wind and then let her off on the starboard tack. Laying a course which would take him back to the mouth of the creek, he trimmed the sail and let her drive.
"What under the canopy are you doing, Mr. Bissell?" demanded Mad Twinker angrily.
"I am afraid the Dasher will not catch us if I run off any farther," replied Bissell.
"No matter whether she catches you or not. All you have to do is to land us at Sandy Point, on the bay side," added the leader of the ruffians.
"I guess we had better run back a piece," said Bissell, unmoved by the wrath of his passengers.
"We don't wish to go back," protested Jeff Monroe. "Do you want the tinkers to board us and take our prisoner out of the sloop?"
"I don't know that I care if they do."
"Don't you? Well, we do! We won't stand this sort of thing. We hire the boat, and she must go where we say," replied Jeff, rising from his seat, boiling over with wrath. "We won't stand it!"
"What are you going to do about it?" inquired Bissell in the mildest of tones.
"I order you to come about and take us to Sandy Point, as you agreed to do."
"I didn't agree to do anything of the kind. I told you I would take Paul on board, and then the rest of you, when you asked me to do so. That's the whole of it."
"This is treachery," yelled Mad Twinker.
"Well, if it is, I think we have carried this thing about far enough. I hadn't any idea of helping you to hand Paul over to Major Billcord. I would sink my carcass to the bottom of the lake first," continued the skipper of the Silver Moon, warmly.
"All we have to do, fellows, is to take possession of the boat," shouted Jeff Monroe, as he made a rush aft.
"Back into your seat, or I will spill you into the lake!" said Bissell sharply.
But Jeff was not to be intimidated by a threat, and, supported by Mad, he made a dive at the skipper. Suddenly the spare tiller appeared in air, in the hands of Paul, and then it came down upon the head of Jeff Monroe.
Jeff Monroe fell all in a heap at the door of the cuddy; but his fall did not deter his fellow-ruffians from advancing upon the skipper. Buck Lamb threw himself in front of Mad Twinker, as though he intended to redeem his escutcheon from the stain of defeat. Bissell was no more a fighting character than Paul, and he had not the least idea of "science." Buck was in proper position to make or receive an attack, and the skipper had risen from his sitting posture when the prisoner did.