CHAPTER VIII
THE SPOILS OF VICTORY
"Take hold, Perk," continued Jack, without losing any time. "We've gotto get this poor chap out in the open air for it's pretty bad down belowhere, and bothers my eyes more or less."
So between them they managed to carry the wounded rum-runner to thedeck, where he was laid down, still groaning, although showing no othersigns of life.
"Step lively, brother, and see if you can run across any fresh water,so's to pour a little down his throat," Jack went on to say. "I can dipup some salty stuff by reaching down over the gun'l and mop his foreheadso's to fetch him around."
"Okay, boss!" snapped the ever ready Perk, "kinder guess I spied abarrel with a faucet--hope now she don't hold spirits instead o' water.Watch my smoke, that's all."
He was indeed back in what he would term a "jiffy," bearing a batteredand rusty tin kettle in his hand which proved to contain something thatmight, with reservations, be called "drinking" water though it proved tobe lukewarm and possibly full of "wigglers," as the larvae of mosquitoesare called.
Jack raised the man's head, which he had succeeded in washing to someextent, and forcing open his mouth allowed some of the contents of thepannikin to drain down his throat.
This set him to coughing and so he came to, showing all the signs ofbewilderment that might be expected after going to sleep in the midst ofa most clamorous battle with the reckless hijackers, and now waking upto find strange faces bending over him, heads that were encased inclose-fitting helmets and the staring goggles of airmen.
"You're all right, brother," Jack assured the man, on seeing how alarmedhe appeared to be. "Your crew skipped out and deserted you, but we'llstand by. Consider yourself a prisoner of Uncle Sam, although you'll notbe punished any to speak of if only you open up and tell all you knowabout the owners and the skipper of this smuggler craft. What's her nameand where are you from?"
The man had by this time recovered sufficiently to understand what wasrequired of him. Jack's manner was reassuring, and he came out of hishalf panic so as to make quite a civil reply to the questions asked.
So they learned that the sloop had been known as the _Cicade_,which Jack knew to mean a locust and that her home port was in theBahamas, hot-bed of the smuggler league, Bimini, in fact, being itschief port of departure.
"What're we goin' to do with this chap?" Perk was asking. "We don't wanthim to give us the slip, since he's the on'y prisoner we got, do we,partner?"
"I reckon not, brother, and to make certain that doesn't happen we'llhave to tie him up or fasten him to the mast here while we finishlooking around. I hope to run across the ship's papers, if they've gotany such things aboard."
"Leave that to me, Jack, I'm some punkins when it comes to splicin' up aprisoner o' war, so he can't break away." Perk proved himself a man ofhis word by securing a piece of rope, wrapping it several times aroundthe ankles of the seaman, and finishing with a succession of hard knotssuch as would require the services of a sharp knife blade when it cametime to liberate the captive.
The man was a pretty tough looking customer, thanks to the treatment hehad met with in the merry time the rival parties had had aboard thesloop, but at least he knew when he was well off and something in Jack'smanner as well as his voice told him these strangers would go easy himif only he gave them as little trouble as possible.
So once again the pair set out to finish their exploration of the objectof their latest "strafing" feat when a battle had been brought to anabrupt close with all hands in full flight simply by a dextrous movementof Perk's arm and the tossing of a couple of innocent looking tear-bombsinto the midst of the warring factions.
This time it was Jack who made the discovery. Perk saw him step over,while they were still on deck, and lift a ragged tarpaulin that seemedto cover some bulky object toward the stern of the sloop. After that onelook Jack gave the well-worn covering a hitch and a toss that sent itflying revealing something that caused Perk's eyes to stick out withastonishment, not mentioning a sudden spasm of delight.
"Wow! what's this I'm seein' partner?" he yelped joyously. "A reg'larengine or I'm a crocodile from the Nile! Why, this must be what theycall an auxiliary craft, fitted to use canvas or hoss power, whicheverfills the bill best. You c'n ditch me if this ain't what I'll call luck.An' heaps of it."
"I had a sneaking suspicion we'd run across something like this,"confessed Jack, who nevertheless seemed just as well pleased as hiscomrade over the find. "It's taking too big a chance to ship a cargo asrich as this one in a tub like this with only rotten sails to speed thecraft if she happened to run afoul of a revenue cutter or one of thosenew sub-chasers the Coast Guard's been fitted out with. And now theproblem's been solved, just as we hoped it would be."
"Meanin' we c'n get somewhere without tryin' to tow the rum-boat behindour crate, and making a long and tiresome job o' it, eh what, partner?"Perk suggested, with considerable animation.
"Take a look at this engine, Perk, and tell me if you reckon you couldrun the thing if it became necessary."
Accordingly the other investigated and it was not long before heventured to give his decision.
"Seems okay to me, Boss. Course I can't jest say for sure till I triesit out, but the chances are three to one she'll work for me."
"We'll soon have a chance to put that to the test, for it's our only wayto hang on to our spoils and have something to turn in for the night'swork."
"I'm laughin' to see how things keep happenin' jest to suit our crowd,old hoss," Perk went on to remark, still chuckling at a great rate. "Dowe tow the ship behind the sloop, partner?"
"Not that you could notice," he was informed. "I aim to have you stickto the rummy, while I get up a thousand feet or so and kind of play thepart of an aerial scout, just like you've told me you used to do whenyou were running one of those war sausages, known as blimps in theseup-to-date times. No objections, have you, Perk?"
"What, me? I should guess not," the other exploded. "Why, it'll be jesta rummy time with this kid, runnin' off with the old sloop and aprisoner on board to boot. I'm tickled pink to know we're right inaction at last, after waitin' so long, an' ding-dongin' around till weboth got stale. But how 'bout draggin' that ere mudhook up off theground--think we c'n tackle the job between us, Jack?"
"Oh! That can be put through without much trouble, I reckon," Perk wasassured by the confident one. "I think if you investigate you'll findthey've got some sort of winch, a bit like the old-fashioned windlass weused to wind up whenever we pulled the old oaken bucket up from thecountry well. Let's take a peek and make sure."
It took them but a minute to have Jack's guess verified, for there was awinch, with the rope of the anchor attached; all that would be necessarywas to start winding and by main strength the anchor must be hauled outof the mud and lifted to the vessel's bow, there to hang until neededagain.
"No use of our stickin' 'round these diggin's any longer, partner," Perksuggested. "The canvas is all clewed up or reefed, whatever they callit, so we won't have it flappin' around after the ship gets under way.Say the word, Boss, an' leave the rest to me."
"But nothing has been said as to what port we're meaning to strike outfor," observed Jack, "and that's a matter of considerable importance.First of all it would be apt to queer our business some if we sailedopenly into Tampa, St. Petersburg, or even Key West; for some of thosesmart newspaper reporters would be bound to get on to the facts and likeas not we'd have our pictures printed in all the papers. A fat chancewe'd stand to do any more work ripping this contraband conspiracy up theback, after _they_ got through telling things."
"Well, I guess now that would queer our game, wouldn't it, partner?"bleated the annoyed Perk, then brightening up as he eyed his chum in asuggestive fashion as though anticipating further interesting remarksalong that particular line, he went on to add: "S'pose I'm let into theplan I know you've got all fixed up for us to foller."
"All things considered," began Jack, thus urged, "I reckon
it would bethe best scheme if we managed to get the rum-runner anchored back inthat big bunch of mangrove islands on the outer edge of which we lay lowwith our crate so nicely camouflaged. For that matter we could cover thedeck the same way, since it'll be from the air most likely the danger isbound to come--through Oscar Gleeb, the German ex-war pilot."
"Sounds good to me, buddy!" snapped Perk, grinning.
"I'll swing around overhead, and have my eye peeled for any sign oftrouble," continued Jack, "and also keep tabs on you while on the tripsouth. Of course we don't know just what speed you can coax out of thatrusty old engine, but even at a minimum of six or eight miles per hour,we surely ought to get in hiding before sun-up."
"Easy enough, Boss, and mebbe long before," Perk agreed. "Didn't you getthe far away grumble of a marine engine working just when we climbedaboard this junk--I didn't say anything at the time, but I guessed ashow it might be that second tub turnin' tail an' puttin' for the shore."
"I made up my mind that was what it stood for," Jack told his companion."They listened to all that terrible racket and just made up their mindsit was too hot out this way for them to make the riffle. Oh, well! twomay be company, but three's considered a crowd and we might have foundwe'd bitten off more than we could chew, so what does it matter?"
"We've gathered in the booze," Perk was saying proudly, "or most of itanyway, together with the rum-runner, and one o' the crew to turnState's evidence, so what else could we wish for--I for one don't feelgreedy. Plenty more where this one came from, and the smuggling seasonis long. What we got to pay most attention to is liftin' the lid, so'sto find out just who the big guns are, backing this racket an' chancesare we're on the right road to doin' that this very minute."
"That's correct, Perk, but let's get a move on and be going."
Eagles of the Sky; Or, With Jack Ralston Along the Air Lanes Page 8
