Part 9

"I'll go when I git good an' ready," he said. "Don't give me none o' your slack, or I'll take it out o' yer." Then he flung the dregs of the liquor into Smart's face.

The sting of the fiery stuff blinded the captain for an instant, but it also angered him enough to do a foolish thing. He brought the bottle down upon the wrecker's head and stretched him upon the deck. The next instant he was seized by the giant black man and flung like a coil of rope into the scuppers.

"Don't make no rough-house, or you'll be sorry. Put us abo'd the _Sea-Horse_," said the big mate.

Dunn had rushed for the cabin at the first signs of a fracas, and now came forward with a rifle held in readiness.

Smart saw that any further strain would result in bloodshed, and he was used to handling men. With strong self-control he sprang to his feet and held up his hand to Dunn. Then he called for the boat in a natural tone, and the men who had witnessed the trouble obeyed.

The yacht's deck was not the place for an affair of force. Captain Smart knew it at once and deplored his action. In a second he could precipitate a fight that would be fatal to at least one or more men, for Dunn was an excellent shot and exceedingly quick. The mate of the _Sea-Horse_ cared as little for the rifle as for a cane, if he once broke loose. Even Sanders would not hesitate to face any kind of weapon. The two wreckers were ushered over the side and rowed back to their craft.

Bahama Bill was sullenly silent all the afternoon. Something, an indefinable something of refinement, of an air above what he had been used to, had kept him from an outbreak aboard the yacht. He had many times gone forth on the beach and made rough-house for the sport of it, handling half a dozen tough longshoremen, armed and unarmed. On the _Sayonara_ the presence of the ladies had kept him in check. He could not quite understand it. Sanders had less control of himself, and growled out vengeance during the hours of daylight. When it grew dark he took his mate to one side.

"When the tide turns we'll rake her--hey?" he said.

"I dunno--I cayn't quite make up my mind," said Bill.

"Feared?"--with a sneer.

"Feared o' what?" asked the black man.

"Oh, I dunno. I reckon the captain, or the owner--hey?"

Bahama Bill spat disdainfully over the side into the dark water where the phosphorus shone in the ripples. He sat for an hour upon the rail, and the rest of the crew watched him, for they knew pretty well what was coming.

After supper the big mate went on deck. Heldron brought him a hook, a powerful instrument with a long tooth that would reach well into the seams of a vessel and pull out any calking that might be there. Sanders took out a fine steel bar, a regular jimmy, and joined them. The rest of the crew remained below and played checkers or cards, making no comment whatever.

The giant mate took the bar and hook and slid gently over the side, and the next instant they saw a thin line of fire, his wake, leading toward the yacht.

Aboard the yacht the incident of the afternoon was almost forgotten. Miss Harsha played the piano and Mrs. Dunn sang sea songs, while Dunn smoked and applauded alternately. The men were all below, and only Smart and his mate, a tall Yankee sailor from Maine, sat on deck, for the air was chill.

"Looks like we'll have a bit o' weather coming along soon," said the mate to Smart; "heavy bank makin' to th' north'ard."

The captain smoked in silence. He thought of the scene on deck that day, and he felt more than ever that Miss Harsha had reason to feel displeased at his attentions. He remembered the nights upon the liner when he had taken the girl for walks against the rules of the company, the usual ending of such affairs, and the cold-blooded manner in which she had sent him off. He was occupied intensely with his thoughts and keenly disgusted. In the dark water alongside a large fish seemed to make considerable disturbance and attracted his attention. He went to the rail and looked over, and instantly the creature, whatever it was, sank below the surface. Then he went back and smoked.

Bahama Bill, the wrecker, had reached the yacht and had started to work her seams about three strakes below the water-line. It was his business to drag out the oakum and spread the seam, leaving nothing but a bare thread to keep the water from coming into the hull.

It was an old game, but new to the vicinity and victims. When the vessel filled and sank, which she would surely do if not docked at once, the wreckers would be on hand to claim their salvage. As this would amount to about one-third the value of the yacht, it would be worth while. Even if the marks of bar and hook were discovered, no one, unless an expert in the methods of the reefers, would suspect what had caused the trouble. No one could possibly give any testimony of any value against the wreckers.

They would board her boldly at just the right moment, and, knowing her condition, would have no rivals on hand. Her salvage would ease the pain of the insults they had received at the hands of her owner. He wouldn't drink with them--what? He would wish he had drunk many bottles before they were through with him, the rich bum. Who was he to put on airs to them?

The giant black diver had raked the seam and then swung his weight upon the bar. The two-inch planking of the small vessel gave to his tremendous strength. His head, a foot beneath the surface, kept him out of sight while he worked, but he had to raise it clear every little while to breathe. At these times he turned his eyes upward and tried to pierce the gloom, letting just his nose come out, and drawing breath ready for instant disappearance should any one be looking over the side.

It was desperate work, toiling there in the tideway, and, in spite of his power, he found that he must rest after the first seam had been raked to the bends. He jammed the bar fast in a seam and clung to it, lying at full-length and letting his body float with the current.

The night was quite still and very dark. The bank of cloud in the north told of a heavy wind approaching, the uncomfortable norther which sweeps at periods over the reef during the winter months. The water, however, was always warm; the close proximity of the Gulf Stream kept it near the temperature of eighty all through the year. While he rested, he was aware of a movement in the sea near him, and he sniffed the air uneasily. The smell of a shark was plain in his nostrils.

To lie quietly in the sea at night with a shark in the vicinity was to invite almost certain destruction. To thresh about aimlessly would surely attract attention from the deck above, and bring death in the shape of a rifle-bullet, or, worse yet, a boat, which would catch him before he could gain the _Sea-Horse_. He left the bar in the _Sayonara's_ side, and, grasping the hook, swam strongly to the bobstay.

Silently the mighty black hauled himself clear of the water, just as a long shadow, darker than the surrounding sea passed beneath him, leaving a long line of fire to mark its passage. He had cleared with about a second to spare. The sea-monster passed on down the tide toward the open ocean, but Bahama Bill waited before slipping back again to his task.

In a short time he worked the next seam; then, taking the thin cotton line he had fast about him as a belt, he unwound it, pulled the last of the calking oakum out, and replaced it quickly with the line the entire length of the destroyed seam, leaving the ends clear to be jerked forth at a moment's notice. It would at once let a stream of water into the hull of the yacht which would test her pumps to their fullest capacity, and where he had worked there was hardly a trace of violence. A few augur-holes would have accomplished the end more readily, but they would remain as telltale evidence. The starting of a seam and butts could not be proven against such careful work.

At the right minute the wreckers would pull the cord, and then it would be--stand by the pumps or run her ashore. All they would have to do now would be to follow her about the reef until she arrived at a spot conveniently far from a tugboat or dry dock, follow her like a shark until, wounded and unable to keep the sea, they would fall upon her the instant her crew and owner would leave her, or call for help.

Bahama Bill had just put the finishing touches upon his excellent work, and was resting, preparatory to swimming back to the _Sea-Horse_, where he knew Sanders and the rest were awaiting his arrival with some impatience. He had his bar jammed in a seam, and was hanging upon it, when the mate of the _Sayonara_ happened to peer over the side.

The wrecker saw him just in time, and sank from view. In doing so he made a slight disturbance in the sea, and the phosphorus flared and trailed from him, giving him the long shape beneath the surface common to a fish of about his length.

"I reckon I'll take a whack at them fellers swimmin' around us," said the sailor to Smart, "seems to me there might be a barracuda, or jew-fish, loafing about. I'm going to get the harpoon."

Bill, instead of making good his getaway, at this moment, hung easily on to his resting-place and poked his head clear about the time the mate had ceased speaking. Seeing that the head over the rail had gone, the wrecker started to pull his bar clear, and had just shoved off from the yacht's side, when the mate arrived with the iron.

The long Yankee had been accustomed to spearing sword-fish upon his native coast in summer, and he hesitated not an instant, but hurled the iron at the form below him. As he did so Bill saw the movement and gave a mighty shoot ahead. It saved his life by a fraction of a second, but the iron struck him fair upon the ankle and passed through between his heel-cord, or tendon, and the bone. He was hung as securely as a quarter of beef upon a hook.

"I got him," yelled the mate. "Lend me a hand. Captain Smart."

"Killed him outright," said the captain. "He makes no flurry for a heavy fish. Must have struck his backbone."

They put their weight upon the line, and it came in easily, hauling as though a log were fastened to the iron. And in the meantime Bahama Bill was whirling over, trying to think of some way to cut clear.

Still holding to his bar, the giant wrecker came swashing alongside the yacht, making a lot of foam and fire, which completely hid his identity. By good luck the men above him stopped hauling just when his great weight began to put a heavy strain upon the line.

Captain Smart, not wishing to trust the thin runner, went for a heavy line to make a bowline to slip over the fish's tail and heave him aboard shipshape Bill jammed the jimmy into a seam and worked it far enough in to get a strong hold. His head was half-submerged, but he held on while the strain upon the harpoon lifted his leg clear of the sea. His leg was numbed from the wound, and when they slipped the bowline down upon it he knew there was no use of further resistance.

The pain was intense when they put the line to a tackle, and he gave up. Throwing the bar clear to make away with the last evidence of his work, he let them haul him feet foremost into the air and hang him dangling over the rail.

"A nigger, by all that's holy!" exclaimed the long mate. "Now, how in the name did----"

"The mate of the wrecker," said Smart, slacking the giant down upon the deck and gazing at him. "Hooked in the ankle, all right and seamanlike. Is he drowned?"

"Naw, I ain't drowned," said Bill, staggering to his feet, the iron from the harpoon still transfixing his leg. "Yo' put a stopper on that barb, and pull that iron out. Cayn't a man take a swim without you fellows huntin' him like a bloody fish?"

The mate offered his apologies, somewhat tinged with humour, for the mistake, and, being entirely without suspicion, went below to get a stiff drink for his victim. The giant black stood gazing down at the yacht captain for a moment, and as the wound did not bleed to any extent, he refused to have any further fuss made over it.

"Aren't you afraid of sharks--to be swimming about this harbour in the night?" asked Smart.

"No, I ain't scared o' much," said Bill, "an' I takes it all in good part, yo' ketchin' me the way yo' did. I don't mind the little hole in mah laig, but I do mind bein' h'isted up feet fo'most. I don't allow no liberties wid me body, 'n' ef yo' had dun it a purpose, I sho' would have tu wake yo' up some--but I takes no offence."

The long mate appeared with the liquor, and the wrecker drank it down.

"Ah'm goin' now," said Bill, and without further ado he made a plunge over the rail and was gone. A faint trail of fire showed his rapid progress toward the _Sea-Horse_, and his captors were left alone again on deck.

"That was something strange--what?" said the mate.

"'Twas a bit out of the ordinary," said Smart, thinking of the strangeness of the scene, the dark night, the disturbed water, and the sudden appearance of a giant negro hauled on deck feet foremost by a bowline run over a whale-iron. "You better keep an anchor-watch to-night. Some of those fellows might steal half our brasswork before morning. I'm going to turn in. Good night."

II

In the brisk wind of the failing norther, the _Sayonara_ hoisted her snowy canvas. The mainsail, taut as a board and white as the coral-beach, stood with luff cutting the wind and leach cracking gently while the boom-tackles held it like a hound in leash. The foresail was run up, and the word was passed aft that the ship was ready.

Mr. Dunn stood near the companion and chatted to Miss Harsha, while Mrs. Dunn entertained two marine officers from the yard with tales of the yacht. The reception aboard the day before had been a success, and these remaining guests were to spend a week cruising to the northward as far as Boca Grande.

Dunn was a keen fisherman, and would try for tarpon, the giant herring of the reef.

"I tell you, Miss Marion," said he, "it's a great sport. It takes skill to land one of those fellows, skill to hook him, skill to play him, and skill to kill 'em--are you a good fisherman?"

Miss Marion, pug-nosed, fat, and not entirely good-natured, thought a moment. Not upon fish, but concerning certain officers she had known lately.

"I--er--I really don't quite know, you know. I never tried it. It must be something grand. It appeals to me, the idea of fishing. It must be awfully exciting when you've hooked him." And her eyes roved just for a moment in the direction of Mrs. Dunn and her friends.

"She's hove short, sir," said Smart, coming near. "Shall we break her out and let her go? The tide is just right, and the wind a close reach up the Hawk's Channel."

"Er--yes. I don't know. Well, yes, let her go. What's the odds?" murmured Dunn, losing interest suddenly. "You'll excuse me, Miss Marion." And he went down the companionway. "When in doubt, take a drink," he repeated to himself. "Maybe I'll run into some people who think of something besides their--their-----" but he left the sentence unfinished as he drank off a dram of gin and lime-juice. Dunn was a bit of a sport at bottom, and his wife's friends were not--not of the kind he was used to. It was hard to run a yacht as big as his schooner for the amusement of silly women, and even more silly men.

Captain Smart hove up his anchor, hoisted both jib and staysail, and while the trim little ship broke off to port, the white-ducked crew neatly catted her hook and stretched up her topsails, sending out a big balloon forward which bellied out and sent her racing through the northwest passage.

It was a beautiful day, and the sun shining upon the white hull made a very pretty picture of the fabric rushing through a whitening path upon the blue water. The solid-silver trophies in the saloon were made fast in their places, for the vessel was leaning heavily away from the breeze, and Dunn locked his little buffet and came on deck to join his guests.

The men of the _Sea-Horse_ watched the yacht until she was hull-down to the northward, her canvas alone marking the spot of her whereabouts, which was changing at the rate of ten knots an hour. But they were in no particular hurry to follow.

Sanders had found out where she was bound, and it was not until late in the afternoon, when the sun was setting, that the _Sea-Horse_ hoisted her dirty mainsail. Then she stood away for Cuba, passing out by the Sand Key Light into the Gulf Stream.

When darkness fell she was shortened down and allowed to drift along slowly with the current, which took her many miles before the following day.

In the morning the _Sayonara_ stood in through the pass of Boca Grande. It is here that the tarpon, the giant herring of the south sea, makes his entrance to the shallow waters of the Florida reef. Dunn lost no time engaging guides and preparing for the kill. In the waters of the reef one does not catch fish; he kills them. A tarpon is not usually eaten, and is caught solely for the excitement of the fight. Nearly all the great game fish are equally unpalatable, therefore the sportsman has long ceased to speak of his catch, which in other waters is useful, and generally brought home for food.

The small boats were gotten overboard, and the party, made up in pairs with a guide to each, headed into the pass. Boats from the floating hotel back among the keys joined them, and during the forenoon the fish struck.

Dunn managed to land two huge fellows, but the boat containing Miss Harsha and the major of marines caught nothing. If there was an attempted killing, it was only witnessed by the guide, and he, being a discreet "Conch," had the good taste to remain silent for ever afterward.

Late in the evening, after the fish had stopped striking, the party sat upon the deck of the _Sayonara_ enjoying the soft air of the semi-tropical sea. Far away to the southward the sail of a single vessel rose above the sapphire rim of the horizon. The air was warm, and felt almost oppressive. There was evidently going to be a change in the weather, and Smart noticed it at once.

"The glass has fallen considerable since morning," said he to Dunn, "and the pass is not the best anchorage in the world. I don't exactly like the idea of lying so far off."

"We'll stay as long as the fish bite," said Dunn. "Now that I've gotten here you'll not scare me away until there's something happened. Give her plenty of scope and let her ride it out, if it blows. A bit of motion will do the party good, shake 'em up and put some sense into them. Stay where you are."

"All right, sir," said Captain Smart. "I don't want to cut out the sport, but if I know anything of the weather by signs, it'll sure blow some before this time to-morrow. The warm weather may make the fish come in, but it means something back of it. It's too late in the season for such warm air up here, or it's too early. We'll catch it from the southeast, and we'll have a nasty sea where we are lying."

"Let her blow," said Dunn, "but when in doubt, take a drink." He went below.

"I do so wish we would have a terrible storm--then you could have a chance to show how superior a U.S. marine officer is in an emergency," said Miss Harsha, smiling up at the major, who had noticed the threatened weather and had heard part of the conversation between Dunn and his captain.

The major leered at her. He was trying to think how a pug-nose and freckles would inspire him at the psychological moment. It seemed to cause him an effort, for he spoke wearily in reply.

"You remember what we did at Guantanamo?" he said.

"Yes, but I have heard of nothing else since the Spanish War," said the girl sweetly. "You surely have something else in the record of your excellent corps, for I know personal bravery exists everywhere in it. I love heroes--men who can do things. It's foolish, no doubt, but, then, most women are foolish. What use would your beautiful uniform be to us if we were not?"

The major gazed out over the darkening sea and watched the tiny speck of white where the single sail rose above the horizon. He was tired and thirsty, and he had seen Dunn go below.

"We are to have a fish-dinner--I must go and get out of these fish-killing togs," said Miss Harsha, and she left him to follow his inclinations.

The night was dark and quiet, the sea murmuring distantly under the black pall which crept up from the southward. The glass fell lower, and Smart ranged twenty fathoms of cable to let out when the wind struck. He also got his heavy anchor ready to let go, with sixty more, and made ready with hemp-stoppers to take the strain off the bitts when she surged.

There were only four fathoms of water in the part of the pass where they lay, and with a great scope to both anchors he felt certain that he could hold on unless some accident happened.

The sea would not break where he lay, on account of the formation of the reef beyond, and if he could get all his line out before she started to drag, he could hold her without great danger, although she would do some lively jumping if it blew heavy. A man on watch would report the first change for the worse.

By midnight all was silent aboard. The anchor-light burned brightly, and its rays fell upon the form of the man upon the forecastle, who nodded drowsily. The calm continued, and the great flame from the lighthouse at the pass sent long streaks into the darkness.

Coming along with the flood-tide and just going fast enough to keep steering-way upon her, a small vessel headed into the pass, burning no lights and heading close to where the _Sayonara_ lay. At her helm a giant negro sprawled, and upon her deck several men lay in attitudes of great ease.

"She lays still, like mit a ghost," said Heldron, peering at the yacht.

"Good graft," said Sam, straining his eyes to catch every detail.

"I reckon we'll git to work on her," said Sanders. "Lower down those jibs and slack the anchor away easy when I luff her under the lee o' that p'int yander. How is it, Bill? Do you feel like swimming to-night?"

Bahama Bill, the mate of the wrecker, growled out an assent. His leg was sore from his experience with the iron in the hands of the _Sayonara's_ mate, and his feelings were exceedingly ruffled from certain personal affronts he had endured from the yacht's owner. Could he cook? Could his wife, the renowned Julia, wash? Well, he would ask a few questions some day after settling his account with the yacht--maybe.

At present the cotton line he had placed in the opened seam was ready to haul out. Then he would witness some work upon that yacht's deck. There would be something doing.

He grinned as he thought of the trim white duck clothes. How they would look after twenty-four hours' work at the pumps! Even the yacht's captain, who seemed to be something of a sailor in spite of his wonderful rig, would have something to do besides sitting about like a well-dressed monkey. And as for those officers, the guests of Dunn--well, he had already had dealings with them, and once spent the night in the "cooler" for ruffling a couple of their Jap messmen.

"Yo' kin lower down the starbo'd boat when we lets go," said Bahama Bill; "'n' I wants one o' you fellers to drap to lor'ard toe pick me up, fer I'll be comin' mighty fast--see?"

Sam understood, and a few minutes later the _Sea-Horse_ had hooked the reef close in the shelter of the key and about a mile distant from the yacht. Her mainsail was left standing, in case of sudden need. They could lower it any minute after the job was done. If anything happened they could stand out in less time than it takes to tell of it, for the head-sails were all ready to hoist and the anchor just holding. Six strokes upon the brakes, and she would go clear. Then, with everything drawing, she would stand through the pass.