CHAPTER XXVII
THE RESCUE
For a few moments Joe was in a sort of daze. He was extremelyuncomfortable, lying on the hard bottom of the boat, and there seemed tobe rough water, for the craft swayed, and bobbed up and down.
Joe wondered if he was alone, for he did not hear the noise of oars inthe locks, nor did he catch the voices of the three rascals.
But it soon developed that they were with him, for, presently Wesselasked:
"Where are we going with him?"
"Keep still!" snapped Shalleg in a tense whisper. "Do you want someoneto hear us?"
"Who, him?"
"No, someone on these ships. We're right alongside of 'em yet. Keepstill; can't you!"
Wessel subsided, but one of Joe's questions was answered. There wereother problems yet unsolved, though. What were they going to do withhim? He could only wait and learn.
The bandage was still over his eyes, and he tried, by wrinkling theskin of his forehead, to work it loose. But he could not succeed. Hewished he could have some glimpse, even a faint one, in the darkness, ofwhere he was, though perhaps it would have done him little good.
"Take the oars now," directed Shalleg, after a pause. "I guess it's safeto row out a bit. There aren't so many craft here now. But go easy."
"Hadn't we better show a light?" asked the man who had twisted Joe'sarm. "We might be run down!"
"Light nothing!" exclaimed Shalleg, who now spoke somewhat above awhisper. "I don't want some police launch poking her nose up here. It'slight enough for us to see to get out of the way if anything comesalong. I'm not going to answer any hails."
"Oh, all right," was the answer.
Joe's head was beginning to clear itself from the fumes of thechloroform, and he could think more clearly. He wondered more and morewhat his fate was to be. Evidently the men were taking him somewhere ina rowboat. But whether he was to be taken wherever they were going, inthis small craft, or whether it was being used to transport them to alarger boat, he could not, of course, determine.
The men rowed on for some time in silence.
"It's getting late," ventured Wessel at length.
"Not late enough, though," growled Shalleg.
Joe went over, in his mind, all the events that had been crowded intothe last few hours. He had told Rad that he was going to see hismother's friend in Camden, but had given no address.
"They won't know but what I'm staying there all night," he reasoned."And they won't start to search for me until some time to-morrow. When Idon't show up at the game they'll think it's queer, and I supposethey'll fine me. I wouldn't mind that if they only come and find me. Buthow can they do it? There isn't a clue they could follow, as far as Iknow. Not one!"
He tried to think of some means by which he could be traced, and rescuedby his friends, but he could imagine none. No one who knew him had seenhim come down to the ferry, or walk through the deserted neighborhood.And, as far as he knew, no one had seen the bearded stranger accost him.
"I'll just have disappeared--that's all," mused poor Joe, lying on thehard and uncomfortable bottom of the boat.
For some time longer the three men, or rather two of them, rowed on,paying no attention to Joe. Then Shalleg spoke.
"I guess we're far enough down the river," he said. "We can go ashorenow."
"And take him with us?" asked Wessel.
"Well, you don't think I'm going to chuck him overboard; do you?"demanded Shalleg. "I told you I wasn't going to do anything violent."
"But what are you going to do?"
"Wait, and you'll see," was the rather unsatisfactory answer.
Joe wished it was settled. He, too, was wondering.
The course of the boat seemed changed. By the motion the men were rowingacross a choppy current, probably toward shore. Joe found this to be so,a little later, for the boat's side grated against what was probably awooden pier.
"Light the lantern," directed Shalleg.
"But I thought you didn't want to be seen," objected Wessel.
"Do as I tell you," was the sharp rejoinder. "We're not going to beseen. We're going to leave the boat."
"And leave him in it?" asked the other man.
"Yes, I'm going to turn him adrift down the river," went on the chiefconspirator. "I'll stick a light up, though, so he won't be run down. Idon't wish him that harm."
"Are you going to leave him tied?" Wessel wanted to know.
"I sure am!" was the rejoinder. "Think I want him giving the alarm, andhaving us nabbed? Not much!"
Dimly, from beneath the handkerchief over his eyes, Joe saw the flashas a match was struck, and the lantern lighted. Then he heard it beinglashed to some upright in the boat. A little later Joe felt the craft inwhich he lay being shoved out into the stream, and then he realized thathe was alone, drifting down the Delaware, toward the bay, and tied handand foot, as well as being gagged. He was practically helpless.
"There, I guess that'll teach him not to meddle in my affairs any more!"said Shalleg bitterly. Then Joe heard no more, save the lapping of thewaves against the side of the craft.
For a time his senses seemed to leave him under the terrible strain, andwhen he again was in possession of his faculties he could not tell howlong he had been drifting alone, nor had he any idea of the time, savethat it was still night.
"Well, I've got to do something!" decided Joe. "I've got to try and getrid of this gag, and yell for help, and to do that I've got to have theuse of my hands."
Then he began to struggle, but the men who had trussed him up had donetheir evil work well, and he only cut his wrists on the cruel bonds. Hewas on his back, and he wished there was some rough projection in thebottom of the boat, against which he could rub his rope-entangledwrists. But there was none.
How the hours of darkness passed Joe never knew. He was thankful for onething--that there was a light showing in his boat, for he would not berun down in the darkness by some steamer, or motor craft. By daylight hehoped the drifting boat might be seen, and picked up. Then he would berescued. Even now, if he could only have called, he might have beensaved.
Gradually Joe became aware that morning had come. He could see a film oflight beneath the bandage over his eyes. The boat was bobbing up anddown more violently now.
"I must be far down the bay," thought Joe.
He was cramped, tired, and almost parched for a drink. He had dozedfitfully through the night, and his eyes smarted and burned under thebandage.
Suddenly he heard voices close at hand, above the puffing of amotorboat.
"Look there!" someone exclaimed. "A boat is adrift. Maybe we can workthat into the film."
"Maybe," assented another voice. "Let's go over and see, anyhow. We wantthis reel to be a good one."
Dimly Joe wondered what the words meant. He heard the voices, and thepuffing of the motor coming nearer. Then the latter sound ceased. Somecraft bumped gently against his, and a man cried:
"Someone is in this boat!"
Baseball Joe in the Big League; or, A Young Pitcher's Hardest Struggles Page 27
