CHAPTER XX. FLEEING IN THE NIGHT
Southport was very quiet of a Sunday morning, the sleepy aspect of itsweather-beaten, low buildings taking on an even more drowsy appearancewith the Sabbath calm, and without the sign of any activity along theshore and in the harbour to interrupt its rest. The faint tinkle of acow-bell, or the mild bleating of a few sheep coming in from a near-bypasture, only served to accentuate the stillness.
The whole island sparkled with the morning sunlight, the rain-drops ofthe night before gleaming on bushes and grass before they vanished underits warmth and with the drying wind. The waters of the bay rolled awayclear and blue, ruffled a little by the freshening breeze, and here andthere showing patches of a darker hue, where a wind-flaw bore down quickand sharp and flayed the water.
On the point, in front of the tent, stood the boys that had dashed downfrom the Warren cottage, with Tom and Bob, rudely aroused from theirmorning nap, and hastily dressed in trousers and sweaters.
There was no comfort nor hope in the view that extended before them. Downbetween the islands, a schooner was running to sea, winged out before thefavouring breeze. Nearer, a coaster, light and drawing little water, wasbeating up the bay, bound for Benton, to load with lumber. Over towardthe Cape was a fisherman, with stubby mast and no topmast, skirtingalongshore.
But there was no yacht, sailing or drifting. There was no yacht _Viking_anywhere to be seen. Nor could she have sunk at the mooring, for at thatdepth of water her topmast would be showing. However, half suspectingsome trick might have been played on them, and the yacht taken out intodeeper water and sunk, they went out in a rowboat and the canoe, andexamined the water for quite a distance, all about.
"We're losing precious time, though," said Henry Burns. "The _Viking's_been stolen. The first thing we've got to do, is to run over to themainland and send a telegram down to Stoneland--though I'm afraid, withthis breeze blowing all night, she's got past there long before this.We'll telegraph on to Portland, and to Boston, too, and have the policeon the watch."
"Oh, if the _Surprise_ was only here," groaned Harvey. "We might standsome chance in a long chase. Confound the crew! Here they are, gone, atthe one time in the whole summer that we need them most."
"Isn't it just barely possible, though, that John Hart or Ed Sandersdidn't make her good and fast to the mooring, and that she went adrift?If that is so, she would have gone clear across to the islands in thenight, or even past them, out to sea."
"That's possible," replied Henry Burns, "but it isn't likely. That's onething a good sailor does, always, by sheer habit--leave a boat secure.We'll get them out, though."
A hurried search brought forth Ed Sanders and John Hart, who stoutlyprotested the yacht had been left as fast as human hands could tie her.Moreover, they intimated, in no uncertain language, that the yacht hadbeen turned over to the possession of the owners, according to agreement;and that, if they had not seen fit to look after their own property, itwas not the fault of John Hart or Ed Sanders or Squire Brackett.
And the yachtsmen realized there was no answer to this.
"Jack," said Henry Burns, as they hurried back again to the shore,"there's no use trying to fool ourselves with false hopes. The _Viking's_stolen--and you and I know who took her. He came back for the treasure inthe cabin."
In the same breath, they uttered the name of Mr. Carleton.
Then, to their amazement, George Warren gave an exclamation of dismay andself-reproach; for there had come back to him again, for the first time,the memory of that rainy night down the island, and of the envelope hehad found in the fireplace, with the name of Mr. Carleton upon it. Hetold them now of the discovery he had made.
"Oh, if I'd only thought of it last night," he cried, "I shouldn't haveurged you to stay at the cottage. You see, the cruise we've been on putthe thing clean out of my mind. I hadn't thought of Carleton since thatnight. Hang it! I feel as though I was to blame--and you'd have goneaboard last night if it hadn't been for me."
Poor George Warren looked the picture of dismay. "There's nothing for youto blame yourself about," said Henry Burns. "You couldn't suspectCarleton was coming back."
They had been running all the while, and had come by this time to CaptainSam's door.
"Now," said Henry Burns, quick and sharp, "we've got to jump lively andbe off. You fellows will all help, of course. Tom, you and Bob have gotto go to Bellport. The canoe will do it twice as quick as any boat couldbeat up around the head of the island and sail over."
"We're off," replied Tom Harris. Without another word, he and Bob dashedfor the shore, had their sweaters off, in a twinkling, snatched up thecanoe as though it were a feather's weight, launched it, and started downalong the island for the Narrows. The light craft darted ahead swiftly,impelled by bronzed and muscular arms. The boys were trained to hardwork, in rough water and smooth; and they wasted no effort now instarting off at any frenzied pace, under the excitement. They set, fromthe first, a strong, steady, even stroke, that could be sustained forhours if need be, knowing, as does a trained athlete, that the longdistance race is to the man that sustains, and does not exhaust, hisstrength in useless haste.
"You fellows make for the islands in the _Spray_, will you?" said HenryBurns, turning to the Warren boys. "There's a man in back of Hawk Islandthat owns a big fishing-boat; and if they've seen the _Viking_ go downthrough that way, perhaps he'll go along for us. Every man around thisbay will help, when he knows there's a yacht been stolen."
"We'll start just as soon as we can get a jug of water and some foodaboard," said George Warren.
"I'll go back to the house for the food," said young Joe.
The Warren boys started off on the run.
Henry Burns and Jack Harvey, their faces drawn and anxious-looking, butdetermined to keep up their courage, knocked at the door of Captain Sam.
"Come in," was the hearty response.
They opened the door, which admitted directly into the dining-room, wheresat Captain Sam, with Mrs. Curtis about to pour his coffee.
"You're just in time. Sit right down," cried Captain Sam hospitably."Baked beans and brown bread is what you get, you know. I can always tellit's Sunday morning, as soon as I wake up, by the smell from the oven.Haw! haw!"
"Hello, what's the matter?" he added, seeing the expressions of distresson their faces. "Nothing gone wrong, is there?"
They told him, hurriedly.
Captain Sam Curtis raised his brawny right hand, which clutched an ironknife with which he had been dexterously engaged in conveying beans fromhis dish to his mouth, and brought it down on the table with a smash thatmade the coffee-cups jump in their saucers.
"I knew it and I said it!" he cried. "I didn't like the looks of thatCarleton from the first--did I, Nancy Jane?"
"No, you didn't, Sam," responded Mrs. Curtis. "You declared he had aqueer way with him--though I couldn't see it."
"The villain!" roared Captain Sam. "A boat-thief, is he? We'll catch him,if we have to sail to New York after him. Nancy Jane, throw some breadand cheese and that cold meat and brown bread into a box, and we'll getaway quicker'n scat."
He bolted a cup of coffee at one swallow and unloaded his plate of beanswith a rapidity truly marvellous, urging the boys, between gulps, to dolikewise. But they had not much appetite and ate only a little, hastily.
"He's the man--the scoundrel!" exclaimed Captain Sam, wrathfully, as theygathered his belongings and prepared to leave the cottage. "And didn't Isee him night before last, as sure as a man can see? I was coming downthrough the pasture from the post-office, about dusk, and there was a manahead in the path; and when he heard me coming behind him, he slips offinto the bushes and cuts across lots. Once he looks back for a moment,over his shoulder, and I says, 'Why, that looks as much like that manCarleton that boarded at my house as one pea looks like another.' But hedidn't answer when I called to him; only pushed ahead, out of the way.And I thought it was queer--and now I know
it."
The _Nancy Jane_, Captain Sam's big fishing-boat, named for his wife,and, like that good woman, plump and sturdy of build, and not dashing,was swinging idly at its mooring. They jumped aboard, lifted the tenderaboard also, so it would not drag and delay them, ran the mainsail andjib up, cast off, and stood down alongshore. The chase of the _Viking_had begun.
The yacht _Spray_, which had been under way for some minutes, was offabout half a mile, heading for the islands. The canoe had already reachedthe Narrows, a little more than half a mile below, and was not to beseen. The _Nancy Jane_ was doing her best. Jack Harvey and Henry Burnslooked at each other, their faces set and anxious. They could hardlyspeak.
Only Henry Burns managed to say, "Keep up your courage, Jack. We'll gethim, yet."
Jack Harvey shook his head, dubiously.
"He's got a long start," he said; "and you know how the old _Viking_ cansail."
As for Captain Sam, he must have had his own convictions about therelative merits of the _Nancy Jane_ and the _Viking_; but he refrainedfrom expressing them. He merely drew out his pipe and sent up such cloudsof smoke that it might have seemed as though the _Nancy Jane_ waspropelled by an engine.
Tom Harris and Bob White lost little time in reaching the Narrows. Atthis point, the waters of the Eastern and Western Bays came so neartogether that only a narrow strip of the island prevented the sea fromflowing between and making two islands, instead of one. The boys liftedthe canoe on their shoulders, carried across and launched it again in theWestern Bay. They had now some six miles of water to cross.
Heading somewhat above their destination, so as to allow for the settingof the tide, they proceeded vigorously. With the precision bred of longpractice, their paddles cut the water at the same moment; while, underthe guidance of Tom's stern paddle, the canoe sped on an undeviatingcourse, leaving a wake as straight as though a line had been drawn forthem to follow.
Then, when they came to within the last mile of Bellport, Tom gave theword, and they finished at racing speed. In upon a clean strip of sandybeach they ran; nor had the bow scarcely grated upon the shore, beforethey were out and were carrying the canoe up above the reach oftide-water, or the wash of any passing boat. Then, still stripped for therace, with arms and shoulders bared, they started on a run for thetelegraph office. They had set out at about half-past six, and it was noweight o'clock.
Oh, but the minutes seemed hours now. The little office, where the oneoperator did whatever business came that way, was locked, when theyarrived. It was Sunday morning, and the operator was being shaved at anear-by hotel. They fairly dragged him out of the barber's hands,however, and got him to send their messages: one to Stoneland, another toBoston, and another to Portland. They were brief:
"Yacht _Viking_; thirty-eight feet, six; sloop; foresail, two jibs;painted white; new sails. Stolen last night. Stop her."
The messages were directed to the harbour-master at each port.
The boys, donning their sweaters, sat in the shade by the roadside, torest. The pace had been so swift, and their intent so absorbing, thatthey had not fairly considered until now the real extent of the loss. Butnow they groaned with sympathy for their comrades.
"Isn't it awful?" exclaimed Bob. "Just think of losing a boat like the_Viking_."
"Yes, and think of the start he's got," replied Tom. "He's had a smashingbreeze all night. He must have got past Stoneland. Only the despatch toPortland or Boston will catch him."
"Well," said Bob, "what next?"
"Breakfast, the first thing," said Tom. "Then let's go down the baytoward Stoneland and see what's happened."
They had, indeed, eaten nothing since Henry Burns had awakened them withthe dire news.
An hour later, they were paddling leisurely down alongshore.
In all the village of Southport, through which the exciting and unusualnews had spread, there was but one man who regarded the loss of the_Viking_ with anything approaching satisfaction. Having assured himselfthat no legal blame could attach to him, Squire Brackett was far frombeing downcast over the event. He thought of the secret drawer and thelobster-claw.
"I'm glad she's gone," he muttered. "Serves 'em right. And they can'tblame me for it. I brought her back all safe."
And yet, if the squire had known it, he was, by reason of having a son,in that measure responsible for the _Viking's_ strange disappearance.
Since Mr. Carleton's sudden departure from Southport, there had been adesultory correspondence carried on between him and young Harry Brackett,unknown to any one but themselves. Harry Brackett, indeed, felt ratherflattered to receive attention from so important a person; and he hadbecome convinced that Mr. Carleton did, in truth, regard certain thingsthat the boy had done as practical jokes, instead of putting a worseinterpretation on them.
Moreover, in furtherance of this idea, Mr. Carleton in all his lettersspoke of a certain indefinite time when, if occasion offered, he shouldreturn to Southport, and the two would have some quiet joke of their ownat the expense of the yachtsmen.
"And when I come, I shall stay into the fall," he wrote, in one letter."I expect to buy some land of your father. But say nothing to him aboutmy coming. My plans might fall through and I should not wish todisappoint him."
Thus it had happened that when, on Thursday, Harry Brackett's letter ofthe day before reached Mr. Carleton at Bellport, it was a letter of muchimportance to that gentleman. He sat on the veranda of the hotel, holdingthe letter in his hand, thinking deeply, and uttering his thoughts softlyto himself.
"So the squire's got the boat," he murmured. "I wish it was I that hadher. I was a fool to start off so soon down this way, and not seeChambers, myself. It's funny, too, about that secret drawer with themoney. There wasn't any when Chambers and I and French owned her. But itmust be there, for Chambers's friend, Will Edwards, told me about it inPortland. And didn't he write me from Boston that Chambers says it isstill there? And isn't it queer, and lucky, too, that there's onlyChambers and I left to share it, since Will Edwards has been put where hewon't need money for ten long years?"
Mr. Carleton arose and paced the veranda, still talking to himself.
"He said I was the one to get it, did Will Edwards, because I appear likea gentleman, and can meet people--and, besides, I had the money to spend.But there's little enough of that left. I've spent a lot. Somebody's gotto pay me. It's the last chance, and I'll have the boat if--"
Mr. Carleton did not finish the sentence. But behind the heavy moustache,that had seemed like a disguise, almost, to Henry Burns, Mr. Carleton'steeth were clenched tight; and his eyes looked away across the bay toGrand Island, with an expression in them that was cold and resolute.
Harry Brackett got an answer to his letter, next morning, and the secretit contained filled him with expectation and excitement.
"A capital scheme for us, he says," exclaimed Harry Brackett, tearing theletter into little pieces and casting them to the winds. "I wonder whatit is? I'm to meet him in the pasture to-morrow night. Cracky! but Iguess something's going to happen. I'd like to get even with Jack Harveyand Henry Burns for once. I'll dare to do anything that Mr. Carletonwill, too; for he'll get the blame, if there's any trouble, because he'sa man."
Thus it happened that Captain Sam Curtis had not been mistaken when, onFriday night, he thought he saw his former lodger, Mr. Carleton, stealingthrough the bushes in the pasture, as he was coming from the post-office.Indeed, Captain Sam might have seen more, if he had been sharper-eyed. Hemight have seen Harry Brackett dodge quickly out of sight at the sound ofhis voice, then throw himself on the ground and lie still until he hadpassed.
What took place between Harry Brackett and Mr. Carleton, on this Fridaynight, was an agreement, merely, to meet there again on the succeedingnight; after which, Mr. Carleton proceeded some three miles down theisland, where he had engaged a room at a farmhouse.
"And what's the joke?" Harry Brackett had asked, eagerly.
"Leave that to me," Mr. Carleton had replied. "It
won't hurt the boatany; I promise you that. But they may have to mend their sail a littleafter it. You know what that means, eh, you young rascal?"
Mr. Carleton chuckled.
"Keep watch for the _Viking_," were his parting words.
There was little need for Harry Brackett to watch for the _Viking's_return. He knew of it by the arrival home of Squire Brackett, in theworst humour he had ever been in--if there could be degrees of such badhumour as the squire's. He knew of it by his father's ordering him to"clear out," when he asked about the trip. So, his supper finished, helost little time in obeying.
Harry Brackett hurrying up the road and turning off at length into thepasture, and Mr. Carleton walking rapidly up the island, and coming atlength to the same spot, they met, shortly after eight o'clock. Greatnews had Harry Brackett to impart: the arrival of the _Viking_. Importantenough it was to Mr. Carleton, but he took it coolly--or seemed to.
"Well, well," he said, laughing, "you're in for fun, aren't you? I didn'thalf expect you; the night started in so bad. I shouldn't have come, if Ihadn't promised you I would. However, we're in for it. Ha! ha! I declareit makes me feel like a boy again. We'll have a laugh on them to-morrow,for I'm coming back to Captain Sam's to-morrow afternoon, to stay."
"Now," he continued, "you get back to the shore as quick as you can, andkeep a watch on the _Viking_, to see whether the boys go aboard. If theydo, we'll have our little joke some other night. If they don't--ho! ho!I'm too old to play jokes like a boy--but I'm in for a good time. I'll bedown to the shore by ten o'clock."
"He's a queer sort of a man," said Harry Brackett, as he started on ajog-trot back to the village.
"I wish I didn't have to use him," said Mr. Carleton, as he watched theretreating figure. "But I don't dare keep watch, myself; and I need someone to help run the boat."
It was a long and somewhat dreary wait for Harry Brackett, down by theshore. The sky was clearing, but it was wet and soggy underfoot, and thenight was depressing. He almost fancied that he was sorry he had enteredinto the scheme, though he didn't know exactly why. However, if Mr.Carleton, who had money to spend like a gentleman, and who was going tobuy his father's land, could indulge in such a prank, why shouldn't he?
Yet he jumped, and sprang up almost frightened, when a hand was laidsuddenly on his shoulder and a low voice spoke in his ear:
"Well, anybody appeared?"
Mr. Carleton had come very quietly. The boy had not heard a footfall.
"No," he replied. "But how you startled me. What time is it?"
"A little after ten," replied Mr. Carleton. "We'll wait till nearereleven, to make sure."
He was not especially companionable, was Mr. Carleton, during theirvigil. He screened himself behind a thin clump of alders, lighted acigar, and smoked silently. Harry Brackett quivered with impatience. Hewondered what it was about Mr. Carleton that so changed his appearance.Why, of course, it was the dress. Mr. Carleton, the night being bad, haddiscarded his light yachting costume, and wore a heavy, almostshabby-looking suit, with a rough felt hat.
"What are we going to do?" inquired Harry Brackett, once more.
"Wait till we run her down alongshore between here and the crew's camp,"replied Mr. Carleton. "Then you'll see."
It was a quarter to eleven, by Mr. Carleton's watch, when he at lengtharose and motioned for the boy to follow him.
"Any skiffs along the beach?" he asked.
"There are, 'most always," replied Harry Brackett. "The cottagers havethem."
They found what they wanted, shortly, a little flat-bottomed affair, thatjust sufficed to float the two. They got in and rowed out to the yacht.Stepping aboard, Mr. Carleton dragged the light skiff also aboard afterhim. Then he paused abruptly, as though a thought had occurred to him. Heshot one quick glance at Harry Brackett, and another off through thedarkness.
"We need another small boat," he said. "When we get down alongshore we'lluse them both."
"There's a rowboat moored off that cottage just below," said HarryBrackett.
"Get it," said Mr. Carleton, "when we sail up to it."
Harry Brackett expressed surprise.
"Oh, we've got to put them back where we get them from, when we arethrough," laughed Mr. Carleton. "Let's untie the stops in this mainsailnow. We'll run it up only a little way, enough to drift down out of sightof any one from shore here. I want to light a cabin lamp, and I shouldn'tdare to do it here, though I guess every one's gone to bed."
There was certainly no sign of life in and about the town. There was nota fisherman in the harbour. Not even a light gleamed from a cottagewindow. Southport had gone to bed. It was a gloomy sort of night, too,with the black clouds wheeling along overhead, and only the uncertainglimmering of the stars in the shifting patches of blue to relieve thedreariness. Harry Brackett wondered what time he would get back home.
"It's getting late," he suggested.
"Well, it won't take us long," replied Mr. Carleton. "There, the sail'sfree. Get forward and cast that mooring off, while I start the sail up abit."
Harry Brackett quickly gave the word that the _Viking_ had dropped itsmooring. Mr. Carleton gave another vigorous haul on the halyards, madethem fast, and sprang to the wheel. They ran down to where the rowboatlay, and picked that up. But then, Mr. Carleton, strangely enough, ranthe sail up more than "a little way." In fact, as it bagged out with asharp flaw of the night-wind, the _Viking_ shot ahead quickly and wasalmost instantly under full headway, gliding rapidly out from the shore.
"We've got to get that sail up still more," exclaimed Mr. Carleton. "Wedon't need it, but it's dangerous sailing this way. However, we will getthere all the quicker. You pull on those halyards when I head up into thewind."
Harry Brackett, knowing little of what he was doing, complied.
"Now break into that cabin," commanded Mr. Carleton. "There's a hatchetunder that seat. It's all right. It's a cheap lock. We've got to get inthere."
Harry Brackett hesitated. Was it going a bit too far?
"Hurry up, there!" exclaimed Mr. Carleton, impatiently. "We mustn't loseany time."
There was something in his voice that made Harry Brackett hesitate nolonger. He took the hatchet and smashed the lock from the staple.
"Now," said Mr. Carleton, quickly, "we're down 'most far enough. We'llneed some rope. There's some light spare line up forward in the cabin,usually. You just go below and look for it. Don't light a lantern,though. It isn't safe yet."
Harry Brackett stumbled below.
There were two reefs in the sail, but the wind was squally; and there wassail enough on to make the water boil around the stern, as the _Viking_sped swiftly onward. Harry Brackett, fumbling and groping about in thecabin, could hear the rush of the water along the yacht's sides. Theywere sailing fast.
Moreover, had Harry Brackett been on deck, he would have seen, now, thatthey were not running down alongshore, but, instead, were standingdirectly out from it, and rapidly leaving it astern.
"I can't find any rope," he called, at length.
"Look again. It must be there," replied Mr. Carleton.
Harry Brackett rummaged some more.
"Light a lantern if you want to," called Mr. Carleton, finally. "We'remost ready to drop anchor now. But turn the wick down low first."
The light glimmered for a moment or two--and then Harry Brackett, dashingout of the cabin as though he had seen an evil spirit in some darkcorner, and giving one wild, terrified glance across the waters, rushedup to and confronted Mr. Carleton.
"Here!" he cried, "What does this mean? You're not going down alongshore!Why, we're half a mile out! What are you doing? Don't you get me into ascrape--oh, don't you!"
The boy was trembling; and the chill night air, seeming to penetrate tohis very marrow all at once, with his fright, set his teeth tochattering.
In answer, Mr. Carleton, holding the wheel with his right hand, reachedout suddenly with the other hand and clutched the boy by an arm. He heldhim in a powerful grasp.
"See here," he said, "you keep quiet. Do you understand? It's a long swimfrom here to shore, and the water's cold. One cry from you, and overboardyou go. Sit down!"
Harry Brackett fell upon the seat, all in a heap. He tried to speak; tobeg; to implore this cruel, evil man that was now revealed to him, tostop--to let him go ashore. But something rose in his throat that seemedto choke him; while the tears rolled down his cheeks. He could only gaspand utter a few sobs. He shook and shivered as though it had been awinter's night.
"Get out of here!" exclaimed Mr. Carleton, sharply. "Go below and stopthat whimpering. You're not going to be hurt. And when you get your spunkback, come on deck again. I need you to help."
Harry Brackett stumbled below and threw himself on a berth, groaning inanguish.
The _Viking_, with Mr. Carleton sitting stern and silent at the wheel,sped on through the night.
The Rival Campers Afloat; or, The Prize Yacht Viking Page 21
