by Oliver Optic
"So she is!" gasped Monkey.
Then came a shriek in the tones of a woman's voice, whose piercing note was heard above the roaring of the billows.
"That's Mrs. Montague," said Bobtail. "Get your warp-line out, Monkey. We have got something to do to-night."
The Skylark flew on her mission of rescue, and her skipper watched the Penobscot with intense interest. Her bow rose and fell at every sea, and it was evident that she was crashing her timbers at every motion. In five minutes from the time she struck, the smaller yacht came up with her. She had gone upon the last ledge of the series that extends to the southward from Islesboro'. Bobtail ran to the west of the ledges, and, going entirely round to avoid gybing, he came up into the wind close under the stern of the Penobscot. He heard her planks and timbers grinding on the rocks. Monkey heaved the warp-line, which was caught by the sailors on board of the wreck. The mainsail of the Skylark was lowered.
By this time, though the waves still beat over the bow of the Penobscot, she ceased to grind upon the rocks. The tide was going out, and less of the weight of the vessel was supported by the water, and as the volume of the waves diminished, their power lessened. In two or three hours the yacht would be high and dry. She had gone upon the ledge in a direction diagonal with the wind, so that under one of her quarters the water was comparatively smooth. Bobtail and Monkey heaved on the warp-line till they brought the Skylark alongside this lee quarter.
"No time to lose, sir!" shouted Bobtail to Colonel Montague, who was supporting his wife and daughter on deck, for the cabin was flooded with water. "I shall be aground in half an hour."
"Can your boat weather this blow?" asked the colonel, anxiously.
"Yes, sir; she can stand anything that any boat can."
Mrs. Montague and Grace were assisted on board of the Skylark, which, even in this sheltered place, rolled, pitched, and tugged furiously at the warp-line. The colonel and another gentleman, whom Bobtail had not seen before, helped old Mr. Montague down to the rail of the Penobscot.
"You go first, Tom, and help him down," said Colonel Montague.
The sailing master of the Penobscot also took the old gentleman's arm. The Hon. Mr. Montague seemed to be very feeble, and he was certainly very much terrified.
"Put your arm around that shroud, Mr. Barkesdale," said the captain to the person whom the colonel called Tom.
Tom Barkesdale stood upon the rail then, with his left arm around one of the shrouds of the Skylark. The stern of the Penobscot was down so low in the water, that it was not a long step down from the rail to that of the smaller yacht. Tom took the hand of the old gentleman as he stepped down; but at that instant the warp-line, which held the bow of the Skylark, snapped in twain, and her head swung off. His son and the skipper had just let go of the old gentleman, and Tom's hold was wrenched away by a jerk of the boat. Mr. Montague went down between the two craft.
"Merciful Heaven!" cried the colonel. "Father is overboard!"
"Throw me a rope," yelled the sailing-master, as he dropped into the water and caught the old gentleman as he rose after sinking once.
Several lines were thrown to him, and with so many ready hands available, they were both drawn on board of the yacht in a moment. Though the venerable gentleman had received a terrible shock, he was not rendered insensible. The bow of the Skylark was again hauled up to the quarter of the Penobscot, and Mr. Montague was safety transferred to the cabin of the small yacht "What will you do, captain?" asked the colonel of the sailing-master.
"I will stick by her with the crew. At low tide we will take the ballast out of her, and float her off the next tide."
"Are your men willing to stay?"
"They must stay; they are as safe here as on shore; at least till the next tide, and I shall be ready to float her off by that time."
Colonel Montague went on board of the Skylark. A couple of men from the Penobscot were sent to assist in working her, though Bobtail protested that he had not the least need of them. The close-reefed mainsail was hoisted, and the Skylark went off on her course. By this time it was quite dark, but the light-house on Negro Island was a sufficient guide to the skipper. The yacht rolled fearfully, and to keep out of the trough of the sea Bobtail headed her to a point south of his destination. In an hour he was as near the main land as it was prudent to venture in the night, and then he put the Skylark before the wind. Before eleven o'clock he was at the wharf. He had not seen his passengers since they came on board.
"My father has suffered severely from his mishap," said Colonel Montague, after the boat was made fast.
"I'm sorry for it, sir. I didn't think of such a thing as that warp-line breaking," replied Bobtail.
"Of course it was not your fault. You have done well for us, and I have no fault to find with you. I want some one to go to the hotel, and tell the landlord to send a coach, for my father cannot walk up."
"Monkey will go;" and the Darwinian was on his way in a moment.
The Hon. Mr. Montague was apparently very ill. The cold bath and the shock had severely shaken his frame. He was trembling with cold when Bobtail went below, and Mrs. Montague was holding his head. He was wrapped up in shawls, coats, and all the clothing available. The lady and her daughter spoke very kindly to the young skipper; but they were too much disturbed by the condition of the old gentleman to say much.
"I think you ought to have a doctor, Ned," said Tom Barkesdale.
"Send for one at once, then," said the colonel.
"What are you going to do, Edward?" asked the old gentleman, in feeble tones.
"I have sent for a coach, to take you to the hotel."
"I want to go home. Can't I go in this boat?"
"It blows too hard to-night, father."
"A boat is easier than a carriage. Let me go home in this boat, when the wind goes down."
"Then we had better not take him on shore," said Tom. "We can make up a good bed in this cabin for him."
"Do, Edward," groaned the old gentleman.
"I will go to the hotel, and get everything we need," added Tom, "and Bobtail shall go for the doctor."
In half an hour the skipper returned with Dr. Estabrook, and the coach came with an abundant supply of beds and bedding. Mrs. Montague and her daughter went up to the Bay View, while the gentleman took off the wet clothes of the sufferer, and put him to bed. A fire was made in the cook-room, which heated the cabin when the door was open. The doctor prescribed for his patient, and he was soon made more comfortable. About midnight the rain began to fall in torrents, and the wind howled fearfully. But the storm lasted only a couple of hours, and at three o'clock in the morning the wind came fresh from the westward, and the sky was clear. The change knocked down the sea, and made a fair wind for Belfast. Tom Barkesdale went to the hotel for Mrs. Montague and Grace, and at four o'clock the Skylark sailed. She made a comfortable passage of it, and reached the town in three hours.
Mr. Montague's clothes had been dried, and he was dressed. His carriage was sent for, and he was conveyed to his elegant mansion. His family physician superintended his removal. He had hardly entered the house, when he was taken with the most alarming symptoms. In less than half an hour he breathed his last, and there were weeping and wailing in the elegant mansion. Death comes alike to the rich and the poor, and invades the palace as well as the hovel.
Colonel Montague wept like a child; the strong man was shaken by the throes of grief. He felt that he would have given all he had for the consciousness that he had never deceived that kind and indulgent father who lay silent in death before him. An hour after the sad event, Tom Barkesdale tried to comfort his friend.
"I would give the world if I had never deceived him," moaned the grief-stricken son.
"It was all for the best. Your father has passed away full of years and honors. It is well as it is."
"No, no, Tom! It was all wrong."
"You have only saved him from misery, which might have killed him years ago, for the doctor says he h
ad a disease of the heart. Don't reproach yourself, Ned."
"Where is the boy—Robert?" he asked suddenly. "I have wronged him still more. Where is he?"
"I don't know. I haven't seen him since we left the boat."
"Go for him, Tom. Bring him back. He shall not suffer this wrong another hour. He is a noble little fellow, and I am proud of him. Bring him back."
Tom went to the wharf in the carriage, but the Skylark was three miles down the bay, on her way to Camden. It was of no use to chase that boat, and the messenger returned to his weeping friend.
"Go to him, Tom; tell him all, and bring him back," said Colonel Montague; and his friend took the next steamer for Camden.
Little Bobtail had sailed as soon as the invalid was landed, for he was anxious to be at home when the Eagle arrived. He had been up all night, while Monkey had slept in the cook-room; and as soon as the Skylark was clear of the harbor, the skipper gave the helm to the Darwinian, and turned in. He was sleeping heavily in the cabin of the yacht, while the telegraph wires were flashing all over the state the intelligence of the death of the Hon. Mr. Montague. The wind was light, so that the Skylark made a long passage: and Monkey did not wake the skipper till the yacht was off North-east Point. He had slept five hours, and felt like a new man. He went on shore as soon as the boat came up to the wharf, and ascertained that the Eagle had not yet arrived. Walking up to the cottage, he found his mother sitting on the front doorstep, in the shade, sewing.
"Why, Robert, where did you come from?"
"From Belfast last."
"Did he die before you got there?"
"Die? Who?"
"Why, old Mr. Montague."
"He isn't dead."
"Yes, he is. The telegram came this forenoon."
"But I helped him on shore myself at seven o'clock this morning."
"He died at half past seven, the despatch says. And you didn't know it?"
"No, I didn't. That's strange. But I started for home as soon as I saw him in the carriage, and slept all the way down."
Mrs. Taylor had not seen her son since the examination at the office of Squire Norwood, but she had heard that he returned from Mount Desert late at night, and had gone to Belfast early in the morning. Bobtail had begun to relate his adventures at Mount Desert, when Squire Gilfilian presented himself at the door. It was known now that the Skylark had been to Bar Harbor, with Mr. Hines and the deputy sheriff as passengers. The young skipper had told this the night before, but nothing more—not even that his passengers had not returned with him. The squire had heard this report, and he was anxious to know the result of the visit.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Taylor," said the lawyer. "I am glad to find your son here, for I want to talk with him. But I wish to say to you, in the first place, that I don't consider that mortgage fairly cancelled."
"Why not? Didn't I pay you the money?" asked Mrs. Taylor, very much alarmed.
"You did, but that bill was already mine. Mr. Slipwing sent me five hundred dollars, and I have received it—the very bill he sent. From you and from him I ought to have a thousand dollars, but I have only half that amount."
"Am I to lose that money?" demanded the poor woman.
"Well, am I?" echoed the squire, with a bland smile. "If my horse is stolen, I take him wherever I find him, and whoever has bought or sold him."
The lawyer was talking to a woman knowing but little of law and business, and he was doubtful himself whether he could claim that bill after it had passed, in good faith, through the hands of several persons.
"I don't think it's right," protested Mrs. Taylor.
"Nor I, either," added Bobtail. "My mother didn't steal it, and I didn't steal it."
"No one knows who did steal it," said the squire. "Captain Chinks still contends that you took the letter, my boy; and he has gone down to Bar Harbor to ascertain how the bill got there. He thinks you heard of that boat, and sent some one down to buy her. He means to look up the case."
"He'll look it up with a vengeance," replied Bobtail. "It is already looked up."
"What do you mean? I hear that you have been to Bar Harbor."
"I have."
"Did you see Captain Chinks?"
"I haven't anything to say about it," answered Bobtail.
"Can't you tell me whether you saw him or not?" asked the squire, in his cross-examination style.
"I can, but I would rather not. Mr. Brooks told me to keep still about it, and I'm going to do so."
The squire coaxed and threatened, but without effect.
"You will know all about it to-day or to-morrow. There comes the Eagle,—Captain Chinks's boat, Squire Gilfilian. He's in her, and he will tell you all you want to know, and more too, perhaps."
The lawyer was not in good humor, though he was, in the main, a very good sort of man. He did not like to have a boy like Little Bobtail say no to him.
"I must say, Mrs. Taylor, it looks rather black for your son. Colonel Montague testifies that the bill which was stolen with the letter was paid for a boat to a gentleman at Bar Harbor. Your son comes home one night with a boat, and no one knows where he got it," said Squire Gilfilian, sharply.
"He told where he got it, and he was discharged at the examination yesterday," replied Mrs. Taylor, smartly.
"We shall see when Captain Chinks gets back."
"I think you will see," added Bobtail.
"In the mean time, Mrs. Taylor, I shall expect you to pay the mortgage note," said the squire, as he walked towards the railroad wharf, where the Eagle appeared to be headed.
Bobtail soon followed him, and was at the wharf when the Eagle came up at the steps.
"So you have arrived, Bobtail," said Mr. Hines.
"I got in at eleven o'clock last night, and should have been here sooner if I hadn't stopped to pick up the Penobscot's people," replied the skipper of the Skylark, as he proceeded to describe his cruise, and tell the news of the wreck, and of the death of the Hon. Mr. Montague.
"And so you have been to Belfast since?"
"Yes; and been back some time. Where's Captain Chinks? Squire Gilfilian wants to see him," added Bobtail, as the lawyer came down the steps.
"The captain is below. He is all used up, and willing to confess everything. But we must take him down to Rockland at once, and we will go in the Skylark. For we want her there."
"She's all ready, sir."
"Where's Captain Chinks?" demanded the squire.
The captain came on deck when he heard the lawyer's voice. He was pale and dejected. The Eagle had anchored under the lee of an island during the storm, and Mr. Hines had explained to him both the law and the nature of the testimony. The detective told him he would probably get off easier if he pleaded guilty, and made all the restitution in his power. The captain had about concluded to do so, but he desired to consult his counsel.
"It's a light wind, and we must be off at once," said Mr. Hines, impatiently. "You can go with us, if you like, Squire Gilfilian, but I can't wait for you to discuss the case."
The squire was willing to go to Rockland, and in half an hour the Skylark was standing down the bay.
CHAPTER XVIII.
ROBERT BARKESDALE MONTAGUE.
"Well, Captain Chinks, did you find the man who paid that five hundred dollar bill to Colonel Montague?" asked Squire Gilfilian, as he seated himself in the standing-room, opposite his client.
"I didn't look for him," replied the captain, studying the seams in the deck.
"I thought that was what you went down there for. You told me that, in your opinion, Bobtail here had sent some one down to Bar Harbor to buy this boat with the money taken from the letter," added the squire, whose "fine judicial mind" had not yet grasped the truth. "I don't see any other way that this bill could have got to Bar Harbor."
"Mr. Hines and I saw the man that received the bill for the boat," added the deputy sheriff.
Captain Chinks looked up at the speaker, as if to entreat him to deal gently.
; "Well, who gave him the bill?" demanded the squire, impatiently.
"The captain can tell you."
"How can he tell me? He didn't see the man. Why didn't you see him, captain?"
"I had something else to think of," replied the culprit, with the most woe-begone expression that ever darkened the face of man. "It's no use for me to try to beat to windward any more. I gave him the bill myself, Squire Gilfilian. That's the truth."
"You!" gasped the lawyer.
"I gave it to him."
"That can be proved, for Mr. Gordon identified him as he came off the steamer at Bar Harbor," added Mr. Brooks.
"I don't deny it," said the captain, meekly.
"But where did you get the bill?" asked the squire.
Captain Chinks did not answer immediately. It was too humiliating to tell the whole truth, and the lawyer seemed to be very slow to comprehend it.
"I had no more notion of opening that letter than I had of flying," he said, at last, after the squire had repeated his question.
"Did you open it?"
"I'll tell you just how it was; but, upon my word, I didn't mean to open it. Bobtail came into your office that day with the two letters in his hand, one for you and one for me. He gave me one of them, and I tore it open without looking at the address."
"Did I give you the wrong one?" asked the skipper.
"You did; and that was what made all the mischief," answered the captain, wishing to lessen his guilt if possible.
"I didn't know I gave you the wrong one. I had no reason for doing so. I put the other on the desk, as you told me to do," explained Bobtail.
"Yes; you tossed it on the desk, and it fell with the address down. You went out then, and I found the letter I had opened was for Squire Gilfilian, and had a five hundred dollar bill in it."
"There was no harm done even then," said the lawyer. "If you had given it to me and explained the mistake, it would have been all right."
"That's where I made my mistake, squire. I was afraid you would think I meant to steal your money, or pry into your business, and I put the letter into my pocket. It came from the bank robbers, and I didn't suppose you would believe any such letter had been sent to you."
