CHAPTER XIII.
A NOTE OF WARNING.
A comical expression came over Sam Hartley's face. He saw at once thatthe woman mistook them for enemies--possibly allies of the Chinamanwhom, for some good reason apparently, she had just chased off theplace.
"Hold on there, madam," he cried, "we're not here on any harm. The ladshave a message to you from your husband."
"Yes, our names are Dacre----"
"For gracious sakes, why didn't you say so in the first place?" demandedthe woman, putting down her rifle and smiling pleasantly.
"Well, you see," spoke Sam, with a whimsical intonation, "you didn'tgive us a chance."
Whereat they all had to break into a laugh, the situation seemed soridiculous.
"As I suppose you have guessed," said the woman, "I am Mrs.Chillingworth. That Chinaman you just saw heading off the place I caughthanging round the barn a few moments ago. He was nailing a paper upthere. Here it is. Look at it and tell me what you make of it."
She drew from her apron pocket a bit of paper on which the following wasscrawled in a straggly hand:
"Chillingworth: You se what thee byes got. That waz onli a sampil. A Word to the Wize is Enuff. Live and Let Live."
Sam Hartley's face grew grave as he read, with the boys peering over hiselbow.
"I suspected something like this," he said, "but I thought we would havereached here ahead of them. I reckon that Chinaman must have known thecountry hereabouts as well as I did, or better."
"Well, I allow he ought to," said Mrs. Chillingworth. "His name is Fu.He worked for my husband, and you can imagine how mystified I was when Icame out a short while ago and found him sneaking round the house like acriminal. I asked him what he was doing and he only answered by snarlinglike a nasty wild cat, and going ahead nailing up his paper. It was thenI got the rifle and ordered him off the place."
The boys explained as rapidly as possible such parts of their adventuresas they thought would not alarm Mrs. Chillingworth too much, although itappeared to them that she was a very self-reliant woman--the kind that arancher in that wild country must have found invaluable. The narrationwas made in the house, into which Mrs. Chillingworth had invited them.She set out glasses of buttermilk, cool from the cellar, and alsoproduced a dish of fresh fruit, all of which was very inviting to thedusty travelers. In the meantime, Sam had stabled his burro in thecorral, and the long-eared little animal was already pitching into thehay stack to the great disgust of the ranch horses.
As soon as she heard the boys' story, Mrs. Chillingworth set aboutgetting the various medicines for which her husband's note called. Thisdone, the boys and Sam sat down to a bountiful meal. It was shortlybefore two that, mounted on two good horses, they set out once more forthe cove. Sam Hartley and his burro went off in another direction. Thenemesis of the Chinese smugglers said he had a clew he wished to look upin the canyon.
There was little danger of Bully Banjo or his gang harassing the ranchbefore the boys returned with the two men, so that Mrs. Chillingworthfelt no nervousness over being left alone. The boys had at first foundit hard to account for the behavior of Fu, but Sam, after he had heardthe details of the fellow's fright at witnessing the burials and the awein which he stood of the tall Chinaman, decided that by working on hissuperstitious fears the gang had pressed him into their service.Undoubtedly he had been selected to bear the warning paper, both becausehe knew the trail and also to test him.
"But suppose he had weakened at the last minute and told Mrs.Chillingworth everything?" Tom had asked.
"In that case, Fu's career might have reached a sudden termination,"said Sam Hartley grimly. "I don't doubt that Fu was accompanied by othermembers of that outfit to see that he did not play them false."
"But we only saw one man," objected Jack.
"That was because the rest were hiding in that wood yonder," exclaimedSam. "From what I know of Bully Banjo he is not the man to allow one ofhis untried men to go alone on an errand. Too much depends on it."
With the explicit directions they had received, the boys arrived at thecove without missing the trail once, or encountering any adventures.They found the sloop anchored there still. As they rode down the hill,they were delighted to see another figure at Mr. Chillingworth's side asthe ranch owner stood upright in the cockpit of the little vessel. Itwas Mr. Dacre, apparently as well almost as ever, for as he went forwardto hoist the anchor while the rancher took the sculling oar, the boyscould only detect a slight limp.
It had been only a sprain after all, as they learned presently. But,naturally, the first thing to be done after the sloop had been sculledalongside the rock was to explain the cause of their delay, and thesubsequent happenings.
"Good heavens!" grated out Mr. Chillingworth, as they related theincident of the warning paper and Mrs. Chillingworth's brave behavior."If the ranchers round here all had the courage of that woman, BullyBanjo's days would soon be numbered."
He was delighted, though, to hear that Sam Hartley was on the scene.During the boys' absence Mr. Dacre had related to him in detail theboys' adventures in the Saw Mill Valley and the part which Sam Hartleyhad played in them. The rancher therefore felt that the Secret Serviceman was one to be relied on.
In view of Mr. Dacre's condition, it was decided to let him ride home onone of the horses, accompanied by Jack, while Mr. Chillingworth and Tomremained behind to navigate the sloop around the point and bring her toher anchorage in a small bay not far from the ranch house. The sea hadby this time moderated, so that they anticipated no difficulty in doingthis.
As progress would be slow up the trail and Mr. Dacre's limb was stilltoo painful to permit him to ride fast, no time was wasted after this,and ten minutes after they had received final instructions, Mr. Dacreand his younger nephew rode off. This time, however, the riders carriedweapons. Mr. Chillingworth would have liked to go with them, but he wascompelled to take the sloop around to her home anchorage, not liking toleave her alone in the cove. If the schooner, for instance, had droppedin there, her crew were quite capable of scuttling the little craft,just to show that they were men to be reckoned with.
Shortly after they had waved farewells to the horsemen, who speedilyvanished into the curtain of pine woods and brush, the sloop set sail.Out past the point she beat, with a fair wind swelling her sails. Tom,who was quite handy about a boat, acted as "sheet tender," while Mr.Chillingworth minded the helm. Before long they were outside the coveand plunging along through the big swells that the brisk wind had heapedup in the open water outside.
It was exhilarating sailing. The handy little craft fairly flew along,every now and then bucking a big sea and drenching herself withglittering spray.
But all this, pleasant as it was, held her back a good deal, so thatwhen darkness fell it still found them some little distance from theanchorage they had hoped to reach by sundown.
"Never mind," said Mr. Chillingworth. "I know this coast like a book.Tom, keep a good look out forward, my boy, and when you see a big, lonepine standing up against the sky on top of that range of hills yonder,let me know. That pine is a landmark for my harbor."
But supper--a sandwich and a cup of coffee--grabbed in the intervals ofworking the boat, was eaten, and still no sign of the lone pine could bemade out.
"I'll beat out a bit and come in again on another tack," decided Mr.Chillingworth finally. "We're getting too close in shore for my liking.There are a great many rocks and shoals running out from landhereabouts."
Accordingly, the sloop was put about and headed out into the open Sound.The wind had by this time freshened considerably. So much so, in fact,that before long it became necessary to take in the jib they werecarrying and set a smaller one--a storm-sail. As this was an operationrequiring some knowledge of boat handling, the helm was given to Tom,while Mr. Chillingworth himself went forward, dragging a big bundle ofsailcloth.
As he left the cockpit, Tom noticed--or thought he noticed--so
me darkobject coming up astern of them. Before long all doubt was removed. Itwas a dark spire of canvas, the sails of a vessel of some kind that hehad espied. She seemed to be coming up at a tremendous rate, too. Evenin the darkness he noted the white water as it frothed under herforefoot. To his surprise, the boy noticed, too, that she carried nolights. This, however, did not bother him as the sloop's lights had beenplaced into the forestays some time before, and shone out brightly.
However, he called Mr. Chillingworth's attention to the approachingvessel. The rancher eyed her keenly, pausing in his work on the wet,pitching foredeck to do so.
"Queer she carries no lights," he commented, "however, our port light istoward them. They must have seen the red gleam by this time. It's theirplace to go about and get out of our way."
"But suppose they don't?"
"Oh, they will. They wouldn't deliberately run us down. Now watch yourhelm close, for I'm going to lower the jib, and without any headsailshe'll be hard to handle."
Tom did his best to do as he was told, but just as the jib came down asudden puff of wind came roaring across the water. With it came a hugewave that curved its crest menacingly above the tiny sloop. Tom, in hisexcitement, gave the tiller a quick shove over to meet the wavequartering. But as he altered his helm, there came a terrific crashabove his head. The sloop's boom swung over and she "jibed" sharply. Hadthe maneuver been deliberately made in such a wind and sea it would havebeen dangerous. As it was, however, it caught them utterly unprepared.There was a quick shout from Mr. Chillingworth, a cry of alarm from Tom,and the lad found himself suddenly struggling in the water.
The sloop had capsized in an instant, and now lay, bottom up, on theheaving sea. Mustering all his strength, Tom struck out for her andsucceeded in reaching the hull. It was a hard task to clamber up theslippery, wet sides, but finally he managed it and succeeded in perchinghimself on the keel.
To his great delight, Mr. Chillingworth presently joined him there. Hehad had a narrow escape of being caught in the tangle of rigging, buthad kicked himself free and was unhurt. He had no word of blame for Tom,although the lad took himself to task bitterly for being the cause ofthe accident.
During these tense moments, when it was a toss-up between life anddeath, they had both forgotten the near proximity of the sailing craftthey had noticed a few minutes previously. Mr. Chillingworth, however,placed his hands to his mouth and hailed the craft, which was not morethan a few score of feet away from the capsized sloop.
"Ahoy! Ship ahoy!" he yelled.]
"Ahoy! Ship ahoy!" he yelled.
Tom joined him in his cries for help. At first it seemed that the crewof the sailing vessel had not noticed them, for the big craft waskeeping right on. But just when it looked as if she was going to slipby, leaving them there on their perilous perches, there was a suddenstir noticeable on her decks. A light flashed near her stern, and sharpvoices were heard calling commands.
Presently she was hove to, her sails shivering and slapping, and herblocks rattling with an infernal din. A voice hailed them, seeminglythrough a megaphone:
"Ahoy thar, what's the trouble?"
"We're capsized. Throw us a line!" shouted Mr. Chillingworth.
To his astonishment, instead of his appeal being complied with, anargument seemed to ensue on the deck of the vessel. Some man appeared,so far as they could judge, to be urging their rescue, while otherscontended against it. "Let 'em rot there," they heard, as one of thevoices rose louder than the others, and the wind bore it down to them."We ain't in any business where we wants strangers aboard."
But the objectors, it seemed, had the worst of the argument, for thenext minute the sailing vessel began to drift down on them.
"Get ready to catch a line," came a shout, and presently a rope camehissing through the air. Mr. Chillingworth hauled on it, drawing thesloop in under the lee of the high side of the sailing vessel. Thecastaways could now see that she was a schooner and a good-sized one,too.
"Hurry up, and git aboard thar," bellowed a rough voice, from above, asthey made fast. "We don't want ter lose any more uv this slant uv windthan we has to, by Chowder!"
Something in the voice rang in a strangely familiar way in Tom's ears.Why this was so, he was to know in a few minutes.
A Jacob's ladder was cast to them and they clambered up it over theschooner's rail, and presently were standing on the stern in the lee ofa low deck-house. As they reached the deck, a figure stepped forwardfrom the group which had aided in their rescue, and thrust a lanterninto their faces.
As the light fell on them, this figure stepped back with a quickexclamation of astonishment.
"Chillingworth, by Chowder, and"--once more the lantern was swungforward--"one of them young varmints thet got away this morning. Wall,by Juniper, ef this ain't Yankee luck."
Tom knew the voice well enough now. It was Simon Lake who spoke. And itwas his notorious schooner upon whose deck they stood. Small wonder isit that the boy's heart beat chokingly, and his pulses throbbed as herealized their situation.
The Bungalow Boys in the Great Northwest Page 13
