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CHAPTER X – SHOWS THE CREW OF THE VAGABOND UNDER FIRE

Even Barry seemed to appreciate the awkwardness of the situation. He got out of the chair he was occupying, jumped on to the stern seat, put his front paws on the coaming, and looked back inquiringly at the approaching craft, his little black nose sniffing and twitching. Then he jumped down, trotted to the engine-room entrance, looked in, and scratched twice on the brass sill, as though begging Nelson to start up the engine again. After that he climbed to the side deck, from there to the roof of the cabin, and settled down, shivering in the little, chill evening breeze, against the wheel, on which Bob was leaning. He had done his best for them; now they would have to look after themselves; personally he was going to sleep.

Spencer Floyd, anxious but silent, sat, out of sight again, with his back against one of the doors beside the entrance. Dan stood up, hands in pockets of his duck trousers, and watched the on-coming tugboat with smiling face. Tom, too, was on his feet, but he didn’t stand still, nor were smiles visible on his rotund countenance. He went nervously from Dan to the cabin entrance, where he leaned down and asked Nelson how he was coming on. All the reply he received was a growl.

“There’s our friend the captain in the bow,” observed Dan. “Dear old captain! How I long to meet him once more! By the way, Spencer, you’d better go down and keep out of sight as long as you can. My old friend the captain has a quick temper, and the sight of you might infuriate him. It would be awful if he went mad and bit the bow off the tug.”

Tom giggled hysterically.

“Wu-wu-wu-wish he’d fu-fu-fu-fall over-bu-bu-board!” he said.

“The wish does you credit, Tommy,” answered Dan, as he followed Spencer below. “I’ll be right up again, fellows,” he added.

Nelson, on the floor beside the engine, was toiling desperately, the perspiration trickling down his nose. About him lay sections of the brass vaporizer, wrenches, screwdrivers, and nippers. He looked up inquiringly as Dan went by toward the stateroom.

“Oh, she’s about a couple of hundred yards away,” said Dan lightly.

“I’m almost through,” said Nelson. “Keep them off two minutes more, Dan, and I’ll try the engine again.”

“Oh, we’ll keep them off! That’s right, Spencer, my lad, you lie down there and be comfortable. And don’t you worry; old Bluebeard hasn’t got you yet!”

As he went up the steps he turned and called down softly to Nelson:

“Here they are, Nel, coming alongside. But I’ll see that you get your two minutes, so keep agoing.”

The tug’s engine had stopped and she was sliding slowly forward through the water with her bow set for the Vagabond’s port rail. On the forward deck stood the captain of the Henry Nellis, the tugboat captain, and another man, possibly a mate. The cook, a long and much-soiled apron enveloping his portly form, looked on interestedly from the door of the galley. In the wheelhouse was a third hand. On the face of Captain Sauder was a smile of triumph which struck those on the launch as being far more disagreeable than his scowl.

“Pretty smart, weren’t yer?” greeted the captain as the tug floated up. There was no reply, and the captain concluded to attempt sarcasm.

“Real nice of you to stop and wait for us,” he said with a chuckle; “real friendly, I call it.”

“Captain,” answered Dan sweetly and earnestly, “we’ve been simply devastated with grief since we left you. Your gentle words and kindly deeds won our hearts, and we just couldn’t go on without one more sight of your dear face.” (“Keep her off with the boat hook,” he muttered aside to Bob.) “And – yes, you have,” cried Dan joyfully, “you’ve brought your dear face with you, haven’t you? I was afraid you’d change it!”

The captain and the crew of the tug were smiling broadly, but the object of Dan’s raillery went purple in his “dear face,” and his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. (“For all the world,” as Tom said afterward, “as though he was going to bu-bu-bust up!”)

“You young whelp!” he roared.

A bell rang in the engine room and the tug – the Scout, as the gilt letters over the wheelhouse announced – trembled as the propeller was reversed. Up came the bow with its big rope fender, and Bob, boat hook in hand, stood ready. As the tug slid alongside Bob reached out with the hook, and the tug, instead of nestling up to the launch, sheered off.

“Here! What are you doing that for?” yelled Captain Sauder.

“Saving our paint,” answered Bob calmly. There was five feet of water between the two boats.

“Bring your boat hook here!” called the tugboat captain to one of the hands. “You boys might as well give in,” he added, not unkindly. “You’re beat, I guess. Where’s Captain Sauder’s boy?”

“Didn’t you meet him?” asked Dan, in surprise. (“Don’t let that fellow get his hook on to us, Bob!”) “Why, he started to walk back half an hour ago; said he couldn’t stay away from the captain there any longer. Sure you didn’t pass him?”

The tugboat captain chuckled. But Captain Sauder, muttering inarticulate things, seized the boat hook from the deck hand and sprang toward the stern, which was now opposite the cockpit of the launch. There was an eight-foot haft on the hook he held, and he would have experienced no difficulty in reaching the launch had not Bob interfered. But every time the captain tried to get his hook fixed around one of the awning posts or over the edge of the coaming, Bob politely but firmly knocked it away. The captain’s remarks were unfit for publication, and even Barry looked pained. After a moment of this duel the tugboat captain came to the rescue.

“Back her and bring her alongside,” he called to the man at the wheel. The bell rang and the Scout slid back a few yards. The bell rang again, the man at the wheel twirled the spokes around, and the blunt nose of the tug poked its way toward the launch’s quarter. On the bow stood the captain of the Henry Nellis, ready to leap aboard the Vagabond as soon as the boats touched.

Tom, I think, would have liked to saunter below about this time, but to his credit let it be known that he did nothing of the sort. Instead, he stood firmly in the center of the cockpit and grinned pathetically. Dan, glancing swiftly about him, saw that grin and wondered whether Tom would ever be able to get it off again. Then the tug was ready to bump and the moment for action had arrived.

Bob did his best with the boat hook, but the tug had too much way on to be stopped or shoved aside. Bob, although he went red in the face, had to give ground. Then the two boats met with a shock that almost threw Tom off his feet, but did not disturb his grin, and Captain Sauder made ready to jump.

But he didn’t jump, because he happened to look to see where he was going, and in looking caught sight of the revolver in Dan’s hand. The muzzle of it, which was pointing directly at the captain, glistened uncannily in the twilight, and the captain paused. There followed a moment of silence, disturbed only by the sound of Nelson’s hurried footsteps in the cabin. Then —

“Drop that!” roared the captain of the Henry Nellis.

But Dan did nothing of the sort. Instead he asked:

“Where are you going, captain?”

“I’m going to fetch that boy you’ve run away with!” was the answer. “Don’t you think you can scare me with that toy pistol!”

“Nonsense!” answered Dan quietly. “You know this isn’t a toy, captain. It’s got five thirty-two bullets in it, and I’m just dying to see whether they’ll come out if I pull the trigger. It’s a mighty easy sort of a trigger, too,” he added musingly.

Bob and Tom stared fascinatedly, Tom’s grin spreading until it revealed his teeth and made him look like a catfish; or so, at least, Bob declared later on. Captain Sauder stared, too, and so did the others on the tub. But no one seemed inclined to offer advice or to step into the range of Dan’s revolver. Captain Sauder growled and swore under his breath, and his fists clenched until the veins stood out on the backs like cords.

“You’d murder me, would ye?” he said finally.

“Not a bit of it, captain,” answered Dan cheerfully. “I’d do my best to plug you in some place where it wouldn’t really matter very much. But I’m not a dead-sure shot, you know, and I might make a mistake. Anyhow, there’s one thing certain” – and Dan’s voice rang out earnestly – “and that is that if you put your dirty old feet on this deck you’re going to get shot, I don’t know just where, and what’s more I don’t care. You might as well believe that.”

And the captain, looking at Dan’s flashing blue eyes and bristling red hair, somehow did believe it. He shook his fist in Dan’s face.

“I’ll get you yet, my boy!” he growled. “And when I do – ”

Turning, he stumbled aft and disappeared into the deck house.

“He’s after a pistol!” warned Bob. “Everyone get to cover!”

Spencer tumbled helter-skelter down the steps, followed by Tom and Bob. But Dan held his ground, although his face paled.

On the Scout everybody seemed for a moment paralyzed. Then the tugboat captain turned and ran clumsily toward the deck-house door, and the sailor who had been holding the two boats together with a boat hook fixed around the after cleat of the launch dropped the haft and disappeared quickly around the other side of the cabin. Probably he thought he was too near the scene of action. Captain Sander must have known where to look for a weapon, for before the tugboat captain had reached the door he was back again with a formidable revolver in his hand and his face convulsed with passion.

“Stop that!” cried the captain of the tug. “You can’t shoot folks on my boat! You haven’t hired me for a warship!” And hurrying to the other, he seized the arm that held the revolver.

“Let go o’ me!” bellowed Captain Sauder.

“You give me my pistol and I will,” panted the other. There was a struggle, in which one sought to wrest away the weapon and the other to keep possession of it and throw off his adversary. Bob, viewing the conflict from the cabin doorway, called to Dan.

“Come down here, Dan!” he commanded. “Don’t be a fool! He’ll shoot you, sure!”

But Dan held his ground, revolver in hand.

Then several things happened simultaneously. Tom pushed Bob aside, hurled himself across the cockpit, locked his arms around Dan’s legs and brought him crashing to the deck; Captain Sauder broke away from his opponent, raised his revolver and fired; and the Vagabond churned the water under her stern and darted away at full speed.

The captain’s aim had been hurried and the bullet sped singing through the air several feet above the launch, and before he could pull the trigger the second time the captain and mate of the tug had borne him back against the side of the deck house and wrested the revolver from his hand. The Vagabond, with no one at the wheel, charged across the tug’s bow and headed for the west. On the floor of the cockpit Dan was fighting and struggling to regain both his feet and the revolver which he had dropped under the suddenness of the attack, and which now lay beyond his reach.

“Let me up!” he panted.

“In a mu-mu-mu-minute!” gasped Tom, still holding on as though for dear life. Then Bob sprang to the wheel, brought the Vagabond’s head again into the course for Provincetown, and looked back at the tug, already a couple of hundred yards astern. The two captains were still arguing it out near the cabin door, but the mate was on his way to the wheelhouse. A deck hand was trying to recover the boat hook, which had fallen into the water when the Vagabond started up. In a moment he had succeeded, and the tug’s nose swung around and pointed toward Sanstable. A minute later she was on her way home, billowing smoke from her stack and evidently resolved to make up for lost time. Bob called to Tom.

“Let him up, Tommy,” he said.

Nelson, rubbing the oil and grease from his hands with a bunch of waste, appeared at the door.

“Wh-what the dickens!” he cried in amazement as he looked.

“Oh, Tommy and Dan have been having a little football!” answered Bob. Dan climbed to his feet and observed Tom disgustedly.

“You think you’re mighty smart, I suppose!” he growled. “For two cents I’d bump your silly fat head against – ”

“Cut it out!” said Bob sharply. “You’ve made a fool of yourself long enough, Dan. You came near getting yourself plugged full of holes, and Tommy did just right. You think yourself a bloody hero, I dare say, but you ought to be kicked. Nice mess you’d made of it if that old terror had put a bullet into you! Next time I go cruising, I’ll bet there’ll be no red-headed lunatics aboard! Hand me my revolver!”

Dan, abashed, picked up the pistol and gave it to its owner.

“You needn’t be so blamed grouchy,” he muttered.

“You’d make anyone grouchy,” answered Bob. “And I want you to understand that you’re to let my things alone after this.” He broke the revolver to extract the cartridges. Then he looked in surprise at Dan.

“Why,” he cried, “it isn’t loaded!”

“I suppose I know it, don’t I?” growled Dan. “I couldn’t find your silly old cartridges!”

CHAPTER XI – RECORDS A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE

An hour later the Vagabond was swinging quietly from her anchor cable in the harbor of Provincetown. About her in the darkness the lights of other craft twinkled and the curving waterfront of the old town was dimly illumined. On the Vagabond’s deserted deck only the riding light gleamed, but in the cabin all lamps were doing their best, there was a fine odor of steaming coffee and things fried and the crew and their guest were sitting around the table in the stateroom doing full justice to a dinner all the more enjoyable since so long delayed. Good humor had returned and everybody was in the best of spirits; unless, possibly, we except Spencer Floyd. It was difficult at all times to tell whether he was happy or unhappy. He seldom spoke unless spoken to, and his habitual expression was one of intense gravity. But he certainly had not lost his appetite; once Dan forgot his own hunger for nearly half a minute in marveling at Spencer’s capacity. Of course they talked and, equally of course, the subject of discourse was the day’s happenings.

“I think we got out of the mess mighty luckily,” said Nelson. And the sentiment was indorsed by the others. It had taken fully ten minutes, Bob, Dan and Tom all talking together and at top speed, to acquaint Nelson with what had happened on deck, very little of which he had been able to glimpse from the engine room. “Only,” continued Nelson affectionately, “I think you were a great big galoot, Dan, to stand up there and bluff Captain Chowder with an empty revolver.”

“The bluff worked, though,” laughed Dan. “I couldn’t find Bob’s box of cartridges anywhere, you see, and there wasn’t any time to lose. Maybe if the captain had looked a bit closer he would have seen that the cylinder was empty, but I had to chance that.”

“Huh!” said Tom. “Bet you if I was in the captain’s place I wouldn’t waste any time examining the cylinder!”

“That was a great tackle you made, Tom,” said Dan with a grin. “I hit the deck like a load of bricks. Gosh! I didn’t know what had struck me! Only you forgot, Tommy, that the new rules forbid tackling below the knees.”

“I didn’t tackle you below the knees,” answered Tom promptly.

“Felt like it!”

“I don’t see but what Tommy’s the hero of the day, after all,” observed Bob. “I’m plumb sure I wasn’t! The way I got into the engine room when that old pirate came on deck with his gun must have been one of the sights of the trip!”

“I guess the real hero,” said Dan, “was Nelson. Anyhow, he did the most practical thing and worked hardest.”

“Hero be hanged!” replied Nelson, spreading his fifth slice of bread. “But you can bet I worked hard, all right! I thought I’d never get that old vaporizer together again. One of the parts got away and I couldn’t find it for weeks! And I didn’t know whether the thing would work any better after I got through with it. The first thing we do to-morrow is to empty that tank and fill up with some decent gasoline.”

“I suppose we need it,” said Bob, “but how about staying around here that long? Don’t you think Captain Chowder will telegraph here and get the local Scotland Yard after us?”

“I rather think,” answered Nelson, “that he’s decided by this time to let the thing drop. But, of course, there’s no telling for sure. There’s one thing, though; he doesn’t know for certain where we are. We started out toward Provincetown, but maybe he’ll argue that we were only trying to throw him off the track and that after a bit we turned and headed across to Plymouth or somewhere on the south shore.”

“That’s so,” Bob agreed after a moment’s consideration.

“Even if he did telegraph,” said Dan, “what could the police here do? If we told our story they wouldn’t dare to arrest us.”

“Well, they might take Spencer and hold him until the thing was cleared up,” said Nelson. “And it might end with Spencer going back with the captain. And I’ll be blowed if I’m going to have that!”

“Nor I,” said Bob.

“Same here,” agreed Dan.

Tom had his month too full for utterance, but he shook his head violently and scowled disapprovingly.

“Then what’s to be did?” asked Nelson.

There was a moment’s silence, during which everyone ate busily, broken at last by Spencer.

“Seems to me I’ve been trouble enough to you,” he said diffidently. “If you’ll put me ashore I guess I can make out all right now. And I’m much obliged for what you’ve done for me. And – ”

“Pshaw!” interrupted Dan. “You’d be caught and lugged back to that old schooner the very first thing. No, sir, the best place for you is right here aboard the Vagabond. And if Provincetown isn’t a safe place to stay, I vote we move on.”

“To-night?” asked Bob.

“I don’t care. In the morning, if you fellows think it’ll be safe to stay until then. Only we want to get out before Captain Chowder begins to use the wires.”

“I tell you!” exclaimed Nelson. “Just as soon as it’s light we’ll run outside a ways and put Spencer in the tender. Then he can row around and keep out of the way until we get our tank filled again. And then we can pick him up.”

“Dandy!” cried Tom. “And if they come and search us they won’t find him! And we can tell them that he fell overboard and – ”

“And was swallowed by a whale,” laughed Bob. “That’s a good scheme, though, Nel. Would you mind if we did that, Spencer?”

“No, sir. I’d be all right if you left me some oars.”

“Of course we’ll leave you oars,” said Nelson. “That’s settled then. But we want to get out pretty early and be back here before the folks along the wharves are taking notice.”

“Well,” said Dan, “we’ll get Tommy to wake us.”

“Hope you choke,” responded Tom dispassionately.

“Haven’t anything to choke on,” answered Dan. “Pass me the bread.”

“I don’t believe the telegraph office will be open until about eight o’clock,” said Bob. “And it isn’t likely that the Scout would get back to Sanstable to-night in time for the captain to telegraph. So I guess we’re safe until, say, nine to-morrow morning. That being the case, and Dan having eaten the last thing on the table, I will adjourn to the deck.”

“There’s some more coffee in the pot,” said Tom.

“Couldn’t drink another drop, Tommy. I’ve had three cups already. Come on, Barry; you and I’ll go up and look at the moon.”

“Isn’t any,” grunted Tom.

“What!” exclaimed Bob. “No moon? How careless of the weather man! Then we’ll look at the nice little lantern at the bow, Barry.”

“Oh, we’ll all go up,” said Dan. “I want a breath of air. How about the dishes, though?”

“Let ’em go,” muttered Tom lazily.

“Couldn’t I do them?” asked Spencer.

“Why – do you mind?” asked Nelson.

“I’d like to,” was the answer.

“All right, then; go ahead. I guess Tommy will let you.”

If there was any objection from Tom it was so slight that no one noticed it.

Up in the cockpit the Four made themselves comfortable in the chairs and on the seat, while Barry curled up into a perfectly round bunch in Dan’s lap. The breeze still held from the southward and the night was quite warm, and, although Bob continued to complain at intervals over the absence of moonlight, the stars glittered in an almost cloudless sky and shed a wan radiance of their own. Somewhere in the darkness along the wharves a concertina was stumbling uncertainly through the latest success in rag-time melody.

“Say, Bob,” said Dan, “you can do worse than that. Get your mandolin.”

So Bob got it and the concertina was soon drowned out. Spencer crept up and silently snuggled himself in a corner of the cockpit. The lights in the town went out one by one and four bells struck in the cabin.

“Hello!” exclaimed Nelson. “This won’t do, fellows, if we’re going to make an early rise. Come on, Dan, and help me fix up the berth for Spencer.”

So the pipe berth in the engine room was pulled out and the other beds were levied on for a pillow and blankets, and half an hour later only Tom’s snores disturbed the silence.

At half-past six the next morning the Vagabond turned her bow toward the harbor entrance, passed the light at the end of Long Point and went westward for a half-mile along the shore. Then the tender was put over and Spencer, his own attire supplemented with an extra sweater of Bob’s, jumped into it.

“If I had some line and a hook,” said Spencer gravely, “I could catch you some fish.”

“That’s so!” said Nelson. “And I think there’s fishing tackle aboard somewhere. Wait a moment and I’ll see if I can’t find it.”

“Yes,” remarked Dan casually, “and you might dig a few worms while you’re down there.”

Nelson’s enthusiasm wilted and he joined in the laugh.

“I forgot about bait,” he said. “I guess you couldn’t catch much without bait, eh, Spencer?”

“You leave me the line,” answered the boy, “and I guess I can find some bait somewheres.”

So Nelson rummaged around and found what was wanted, and when the Vagabond went chugging slowly and softly back toward the lighthouse and the harbor entrance Spencer, oars in hands, was pulling toward the outer beach. Back in the harbor Bob steered the launch up to a landing in the lee of a shed bearing the sign “GASOLINE” and made her fast. Then they set about completing their toilets, while Tom prepared breakfast. By the time that repast was ready the waterfront was wide awake and the sun was shining warmly. After breakfast the tank was emptied and refilled with what was represented to be “the best gasoline on the Cape.” As the boat’s funds were depleted to the extent of almost twenty dollars when payment had been made, there was a unanimous hope among the crew that the claim would not prove too great.

“It’s mighty expensive stuff, isn’t it?” asked Tom. “Think what we could do with twenty dollars!”

“That’s so, Tommy,” said Nelson. “Gasoline doesn’t taste as nice as caramels, but it’s a lot better for fuel.”

“Gee!” muttered Tom wistfully. “Think of twenty dollars’ worth of caramels!”

Later, when they went shopping for provisions, Tom got into a candy store and wouldn’t come out until he had bought a little of everything in sight. They returned to the wharf laden with bundles just as the clock struck ten.

“Now to pick up the tender and run around to Chatham,” said Nelson as they went down the wharf.

But when the float lay below them Bob nudged his arm. On the edge of the float, seated on an empty nail keg and talking to the gasoline man, was a tall individual in a faded blue coat on the left breast of which glittered a badge.

“Cop!” whispered Bob.

As they went down, the tall man, who looked more like a sailor than a police officer, arose and awaited them. Then,

“You gentlemen own this launch?” he asked with a slow drawl.

“Well, we’re sailing her,” answered Nelson. “She belongs to my father.”

“Pretty nice boat,” said the other, his eyes traveling swiftly from one to another of the quartet. “Which of you is Spencer Floyd, now?”

“None of us,” answered Nelson.

“Well, I got a message for him,” said the officer. “You tell him I want to see him, will you?”

“He isn’t here,” said Nelson.

“I want to know!” drawled the officer. “Ain’t drowned him, have you?”

“No, he isn’t drowned. He just isn’t here.”

“Well, well! Don’t mind my lookin’ about a little, I guess?”

“No, you’re perfectly welcome to, sir. Come aboard, please.”

The officer followed and looked admiringly over the launch while Nelson unlocked the cabin door. Then they all trooped down into the cabin and the officer satisfied himself that the runaway was indeed not there.

“Much obliged, gentlemen,” he said at last. “I see he ain’t here. I guess you don’t care to tell me where he is, do you?”

“No,” Nelson replied smilingly, “I don’t believe we do. And anyhow, we don’t know just where he is – by this time.”

Which was a good deal nearer the truth than Nelson suspected.

“Well,” said the officer, with a twinkle in his eye, “if you chance to see him again you tell him that his friend Captain Sauder, over to Sanstable, is particularly anxious to see him, will you?”

Nelson promised gravely to do so and the officer stepped ashore.

“Good mornin’,” he said. “I hope you’ll have a fair voyage.”

“Good morning,” Nelson replied. “Thank you.”

Halfway across the float the officer paused, turned and retraced his steps, and Nelson went to meet him.

“Now, I don’t know much about this,” said the officer confidentially, “but you fellers don’t look like a very desperate set to me. So you tell this feller Floyd – if you should happen to meet him, you understand – you tell him that the Cape’s a bit unhealthy just at present; kind of malarial, you know; and maybe he’d be better off across the bay. See what I mean?”

“Yes, I do,” answered Nelson. “And I’m much obliged. And if I should happen to see him I’ll tell him that.”

“You needn’t mention me, of course,” said the other. “It ain’t any of my business. So long.”

“That means,” said Bob, when Nelson had told the others, “that means that they’re on the lookout for Spencer all down the Cape. So what the dickens are we to do? We’ve got to put in somewhere; we can’t make Newport to-day.”

“That’s so,” said Nelson. “Let’s see the chart.”

After they had all studied it awhile Dan asked:

“What’s the matter with trying to make Nantucket? It isn’t likely that he’s warned them down there.”

“No, but it’s a jolly long ways,” said Bob. “Let’s see how far. Why, it’s nearly eighty miles! Could we do that before dark, Nel?”

“We could do it by seven o’clock,” was the answer. “But wouldn’t it be better to take Spencer over to Plymouth and send him home by train?”

They discussed the question at length and in the end decided that the latter plan was the more feasible. Then they cast off and ran across the harbor to the Point and so westward in search of the tender. But after they had rounded the lighthouse there was nothing in sight resembling their boat in the least.

“That’s mighty funny!” said Bob. And all the others agreed heartily. They went southward for two miles in chase of a craft that might, so Nelson thought, turn out to be the tender. But when they got within fair sight of it they found it to be a pea-green dory containing two fishermen.

“Let’s go back to where we left him,” suggested Dan. “Perhaps he went ashore and pulled the boat up on the beach.”

So they turned back and ran along the shore, but without success. Then Bob headed the launch westward. All four kept a sharp lookout, but it was Tom who asked presently:

“What’s that over there?”

All turned to look.

“Seems like a water-logged boat,” said Nelson. “Run her over there, Bob.”

Bob obeyed and two minutes later the Vagabond floated alongside the puzzling object, puzzling no longer. It was the tender, filled with water almost to the gunwales and empty of everything except the oars and a few dead fish. The four stared at each other in consternation.