Chapter 3

"Stop right there, Whittington! This is my uncle Tom's cabin. Any place that's been shut up for weeks seems stuffy when it's first opened. You'll find that there are things a good deal worse than salt and tar and fish and a few cobwebs. I want to tell you a story I read some time ago. Once in the winter a party of Highlanders were out on a foray. Night overtook them beside a river in the mountains, and they prepared to camp in the open. Each drenched his plaid in the stream, rolled it round his body, and lay down to rest in the snow, knowing that the outside layers of cloth would soon freeze hard and form a sleeping-bag. In the party were an old chieftain and his grandson of eighteen. The boy wet his plaid like the others, but before he lay down he rolled up a snowball for a pillow. The old chief kicked it out from under the lad's head. He didn't propose to have his grandson be so effeminate as to indulge himself in the luxury of a pillow when everybody else was lying flat on the ground."

Whittington grunted. "I don't see how that applies to me."

"In this way. You've lived too soft. You need something to wake you up to the real hardships that men have to go through. Then you won't be so fussy over little things. Perhaps I've talked plainer to you than I should; but I believe in going after a fellow with a club before his face rather than a knife behind his back. Now let's open those windows so the fresh air can blow through, build a fire in the stove to dry out the damp, and get everything shipshape. After supper we'll go up on top of the island and take a look about."

It was nearly seven when the sloop was finally unloaded and everything stowed under cover. Filippo had collected plenty of driftwood, and a fire crackling merrily in the rusty stove soon made the cabin dry and warm.

Jim, in his shirt-sleeves, superintended the preparation of supper. The wall cupboard yielded a supply of ordinary dishes, cups, and saucers. There were old-fashioned iron knives and forks, iron spoons of different sizes, and thick, yellow, earthenware mugs. Despite Percy's slur, everything was clean.

"Make us a pan of biscuit, Budge; and I'll fry some potatoes and broil the steak," volunteered Jim. "After to-night we'll have to break in somebody else to do the cooking. You and I'll be too busy outside."

Percy heard and registered a silent vow that the cook should not be himself. Pricked by Spurling's earlier remarks, he had taken an active part in unloading the boats, and he had been glad to throw himself into one of the despised bunks to rest.

At last supper was ready. The steak, potatoes, and hot biscuit diffused a pleasant aroma through the cabin.

"Pull up your soap-boxes, all hands!" invited Spurling. "Don't be afraid of that steak! There's plenty of it for everybody. It's liable to be the last meat we'll have for some time. The butcher doesn't go by here very often."

The boys made a hearty meal. Even Percy's fastidiousness did not prevent him from eating his full share. But he took no part in the jokes flying round the table. Jim's sermon had left him rather glum. Lane noticed it.

"Why so distant, Whittington?" he inquired.

Before Percy could open his mouth to reply a black body shot with a squawk through the open door and alighted on the corner of the table close to Percy's elbow.

"Hullo! This must be Oso!" exclaimed Jim.

The crow croaked hoarsely. On Percy's plate lay a single morsel of steak, the choicest of his helping, reserved till the last. Seeing the bird's beady black eyes fasten upon it he made a quick movement to impale it with his fork. But Oso was quicker still. Down darted his sharp beak and snatched the titbit from under the very points of the tines. A single gulp and the meat was gone.

A roar of laughter went round the table. Starting up furiously, Percy aimed a blow at the crow. But the bird eluded him and scaled out of the door with a triumphant screech. Budge proffered mock consolation.

"Percy," said he, "that was the best piece in the whole steak. I saw you saving it until the last. Too bad, old man! Now you'll have to eat crow to get it."

"I'll wring that thief's neck if I can catch him," vowed the angry Whittington.

"Guess we can trust Oso not to leave his neck lying round where you can get hold of it," observed Lane. "Come on! Let's you and I wash the dishes!"

"Dishes nothing!" snarled Percy.

Stalking out, he gathered a handful of convenient pebbles and lay in wait for the culprit. But the crow had disappeared.

"I'll get even with him later," muttered Whittington.

He remained sulkily outside, taking no part in clearing away the supper-table. At half past seven the others joined him.

"Feeling better, old man?" queried Lane, solicitously.

"Fall in, Whittington," said Jim. "We're going on a tour of inspection."

"Wait a minute," remarked Lane. "We've had our house-warming. The next thing is to christen the place."

Dragging out a soap-box, he mounted it, produced from his pocket a piece of red chalk, and traced in large letters over the door, "CAMP SPURLING."

"Now we're off!" said he. "Welcome to our city! Watch us grow!"

"Come on!" urged Jim. "We want to look the island over before dark."

The party walked west along the sea-wall and proceeded in single file up a steep path to the highest part of the promontory.

"Brimstone Point," said Jim. "Best view on the island from here."

He began pointing out its different features.

"That little nubble almost west, sticking up so black against the sunset's Seal Island. Matinicus is right behind it. Up there on the horizon, just a trifle west of north, are the Camden Hills; you look exactly over Vinalhaven to see them. North across the pasture is Isle au Haut that we came by this afternoon. Beyond is Stonington. About time the lights were lit--Yes, there's Saddleback! See it twinkling west of Isle au Haut. Now look sharp a little south of west and you'll see Matinicus Rock glimmering; two lights, but they seem like one from here. Wouldn't think they were almost a hundred feet above water, would you? They look pretty good to a man when he's running in from outside on a dark night."

It was a magnificent evening, the air clear as crystal, the sky without a cloud. Gulls were wheeling and screaming about the promontory, their cries mingling with the rote of surf at its base. Sheep bleated from the pasture. A hawk sailed slowly in from the ocean and disappeared in the woods behind the eastern point. From under the boys' feet rose the fragrance of sweet grass and pennyroyal. Tall mullein stalks reared their spires on the hillside; and here and there were little plats white with thick strawberry blossoms.

The boys gazed their fill. Gradually the red sky darkened and the stars began to come out. Saddleback and Matinicus Rock gleamed more brightly. A cool breeze from the south sprang up. Jim roused himself.

"Guess we won't have time to look about any more to-night. Never mind! There are evenings enough ahead of us before September. One thing out here--no matter how hot the day may be, it's always cool after dark. Let's be getting back to camp!"

Two small kerosene-lamps from the cupboard made the cabin seem actually cheerful. Percy dug into one of his suit-cases and produced a pack of cards.

"Let's have a game, fellows! What shall it be?"

"Might as well put those up, Whittington," said Spurling. "We're going to turn in as soon as we get things arranged. We've a busy to-morrow before us."

Somewhat disappointed, Percy put the cards back. Taking four wooden toothpicks, Jim broke them into uneven lengths. He grasped them in his right hand so that the tops formed a straight line.

"Now we'll draw lots for bunks! Filippo's going to sleep in the hammock across that corner beyond the table, so he won't be in this. Longest stick is lower bunk next the door; second longest, lower bunk back; third, upper bunk near door; shortest, other upper. Draw, Throppy!"

Stevens drew; then Budge and Percy followed him. They matched sticks. Percy got the lower near the door, with Budge over him; while Spurling drew the back lower, and Stevens the one above that.

"Percy and I are the lucky ones," said Jim. "We can try this a month, then have a shake-up to give you top men a chance nearer the floor."

Percy pulled out his wrappers and tobacco. Spurling nipped his preparations in the bud.

"No cigarettes in here!"

"Can't I smoke just one?"

"Not inside this cabin. It's too close. We might as well make that a permanent rule."

"All right! You're the doctor! But I thought it might help kill this smell of tarred rope."

"I like the tarred rope better than I do the cigarettes."

Percy went outside and burned his coffin-nail unsociably. When he came back the cabin was shipshape for the night. Jim was setting the alarm-clock. Percy, watching him, thought he detected a mistake.

"You've got the V on the wrong side of the I," he said. "IV doesn't stand for six."

"But I didn't mean six," retorted Spurling. "I meant four. Now you see why we haven't any time for card-playing. And as soon as we're really at work we'll be getting up a good deal earlier than that. Turn in, fellows!"

He extinguished one of the small lamps.

"You can put out the other one, when you're ready," said he as he crept into his bunk.

Following the example of his associates, Percy draped his clothing over his soap-box and the lower end of his bunk, then blew out the lamp and turned in, barking his shins as he did so. He found his couch anything but comfortable. A single blanket between one's body and a board does not make the board much softer. Neither is a tightly rolled sweater an exact equivalent for a feather pillow. Further, the comforter over him was none too warm, as two windows, opened for ventilation, allowed the cool ocean breeze to circulate freely through the cabin. They also admitted numerous mosquitoes, which sung and stung industriously.

The hours of darkness dragged on miserably. Percy dozed and woke, only to doze and wake again. An occasional creaking board or muttered exclamation told that, like himself, his mates were not finding their first night one of unalloyed comfort.

Bare feet struck the floor. A match scraped, and Percy saw Jim gazing at the alarm-clock.

"What time is it?" groaned Budge from above.

"Only ten minutes to twelve."

"Gee! I wish it was morning."

"Me too!" complained Stevens from the darkness aloft.

Percy echoed the wish, silently but fervently. And then in an instant all their discomfort was forgotten. Bursting through the open window, a sudden sound shattered the midnight stillness.

_Spang!_

IV

MIDNIGHT MARAUDERS

There was no mistaking that sharp, whip-like report. It was the crack of a revolver!

Breaking the silence at a time when they had felt certain that the nearest human being was miles away, the sound had a startling effect on the five boys. Not one but felt a thrill of apprehension, almost of dread. Who besides themselves was astir at so late an hour on that lonely island? Why? The weapon that produced the report must have been aimed at something. What? For a moment they remained silent, breathless.

_Spang!_

A second shot, distant but distinct, rang out from beyond the brow of the bank behind the cabin. Spurling sprang from his bunk.

"Boys!" he shouted. "Somebody's after those sheep! Turn out!"

Hurriedly he began dressing. The other four followed his example, fumbling with clumsy fingers in the darkness. Nemo gave a short, sharp bark.

"Quiet, boy!" ordered Jim; and the dog subsided, growling.

Percy experienced a peculiar shakiness; but he dressed with the others. Out here were no policemen or other officers to enforce the laws. Whatever was done they must do themselves.

Jim, his first excitement over, was cool as usual.

"All dressed, fellows?" he inquired, as calmly as if the pursuit of midnight thieves was a common incident.

Everybody was ready.

"Going to take the dog?" asked Throppy.

"No! Leave him here! He might bark when we didn't want him to."

"Here's the gun!" volunteered Lane.

"Don't want it! If we had it with us, we might lose our heads and shoot somebody. Whoever they are, they haven't the least idea there's any one on the island besides themselves. They've probably landed at the Sly Hole from some vessel that's approached the north shore since it came dark. Hungry for a little lamb or mutton! But those sheep have stood Uncle Tom a good many dollars and he can't afford to lose any of 'em. Where's that flash-light?"

"Here 'tis!" said Budge, passing him the electric lantern.

Jim snapped it quickly on and off again.

"Righto!" was his verdict. "All ready? Then come on! But first tie that dog to the stove-leg, so he won't bolt out the second we open the door."

Throppy fastened Nemo.

"Quiet now!" cautioned Jim.

He opened the door carefully, and the five filed out into damp, cool, midnight air.

Stars filled the sky. A gentle wind was blowing from the southwest. Nothing broke the stillness save the low murmur of the sea on the ledges. Without hesitation Jim led his party at a dog-trot eastward along the beach. When he reached the rocks he halted.

"We'll go straight across to the Sly Hole," he said. "I know a short cut through the woods. Either they've killed a sheep already and are carrying it down to their boat or they've frightened the animals so that it'll take some time to get near enough to 'em again to shoot. What sticks me is why they don't use a shot-gun instead of a revolver. Now, boys! Right up over the rocks!"

It was a rough climb, but soon they were on the top of the bluff. Unerringly Jim led them to the entrance of a narrow trail penetrating the scrubby growth.

"Look out for your eyes! Don't follow too close!"

The pliant, whipping branches emphasized his caution. By the time the party gained the north shore their hands and faces were badly scratched.

The little basin of the Sly Hole lay below. Looking down, they could make out a dark object at the water's edge.

"There's their boat!" whispered Jim. "They're still on the island."

_Spang!_

Another report from the pasture beyond the evergreens echoed emphatic confirmation to his statement. Jim took two steps toward the sound, then stopped.

"Not yet! I know a better way. Stay here and keep watch."

He scrambled down to the beach. There was a slight grating of gravel, and presently the boat was afloat. Noiselessly, under Spurling's skilful sculling, it slipped out of the cove and vanished behind the ledges to the east. Before long Jim was back with his companions.

"I've made their dory fast in a little gulch among the rockweed," said he. "They'd have a hard time to find it unless somebody told 'em where it is. They can't get away without having a reckoning with us."

_Spang-spang-spang!_

Three reports in quick succession. Jim laughed.

"Wasting a lot of cartridges! Must want that mutton pretty bad! Either they're awful poor shots or they've made the sheep so wild they can't get anywhere near 'em. There's their vessel!"

The boys' eyes followed his pointing finger. Not far offshore were the vague outlines of a schooner.

"All black!" said Jim. "Not a light of any sort! That looks bad. Besides being against the law, it shows there's some reason why they don't want to be recognized. I don't know what kind of scalawags we're up against, but we've got to be mighty careful."

Percy felt a strange sinking at the pit of his stomach. To be plunged into an encounter with a gang of unknown ruffians on his first night offshore was more than he had bargained for. For a minute Jim stood thinking.

"I'm almost sorry we didn't take that shot-gun!" he muttered. "No, I'm not, either! We might be tempted to use it, and that'd be worse than losing every sheep on the island. Hold on! I've got an idea."

The boys gathered closely round him.

"Listen!" he whispered. "Budge and I will go ahead through the woods to the pasture. You three follow close behind. If there's any shooting, throw yourselves flat. No use taking chances with such fellows as those!"

Crouching low, sometimes actually creeping, the party, Jim and Lane in the lead, made their way under the close boughs toward the open. Suddenly Jim sank to the ground. Warned by his whisper, the others did the same.

Footsteps were approaching. Then voices in heated argument reached their ears.

"Aw, come on, Cap!" expostulated one unseen speaker. "What's the use chasin' round over this pasture all night? Here we've wasted an hour already. I've fired away all my cartridges, and we haven't nailed a single bleater. We've got 'em so wild we can't sneak up within half a mile of 'em. Let's quit it for a bad job, go aboard, and turn in!"

"Cut it out, Dolph!" impatiently retorted another voice. "You've got a backbone like a rope! Guess if you were footing the grub bill aboard the _Silicon_ you wouldn't be so fussy about being broken of your beauty sleep. I've paid out all the good dollars for stores that I intend to on this trip. You know we've plenty of ice aboard, and a couple of these sheep'll furnish enough fresh meat to last us to the Bay of Fundy and back. That ought to hit you in a tender spot. You're always the first man down at the table and the last to leave it."

"You needn't twit me on my appetite, Bart Brittler!" exclaimed the other, angrily. "If you weren't so stingy with the grub on board your old catamaran I wouldn't be hungry all the time. A man who makes as much money as you do, runnin' in--"

"Stop right there! You know there's some things that were never to be mentioned."

"What's the harm? There's nobody within miles!"

"That may be. But we can't be too careful in our business. Now what about the sheep?"

"I'll stop here half an hour longer. Then I'm goin' aboard."

"Well, I'll tell you what we'll do. You hide in the edge of the woods, and I'll make a circuit and drive 'em down to you. Here, take these cartridges and my revolver! That'll give you two to work with. You'll have to shoot quick when they come."

There was a sound of breaking branches. The boys flattened themselves on the carpet of needles as a man's body crashed toward them through the underbrush.

"All right!" announced Dolph. "I've found a good place, close to a sheep-path. Now drive down your mutton, and I'll butcher it as it goes by. Will two be enough?"

"Sure! And that's two more than I'm afraid you'll get, unless you shoot straighter than we've done so far to-night. It may be twenty minutes before they come, for I'm going to make a wide circle to the west, so as to get behind 'em."

The captain's footsteps died hollowly away on the turf and Dolph settled himself comfortably in his chosen ambush, almost within reach of Jim's hand. Five minutes of silence passed. Jim was debating what he should do. Budge lay close to him, and not far back were Throppy, Percy, and Filippo, hardly daring to breathe. Circumstances had placed one of the marauders so nearly within their grasp that a sudden, well-planned attack could hardly fail to make him their prisoner. But there must be no bungling. A man with two loaded revolvers, and desperate from panic, would be a dangerous customer unless he were overpowered at once.

It would not do to let too much time go by. Brittler would soon be returning, driving the sheep ahead of him; then they would have two lawless men to contend with, instead of one, unless they chose to be quiet and tamely allow the spoilers to make off with their booty.

Jim came to his decision like the snapping of the jaws of a steel trap.

Reaching back, he pressed Budge's hand, as a signal for him to be ready. Budge returned the pressure. Dolph stirred and drew a long breath. There was a moment of suspense. Overhead, a crow cawed harshly.

Noiselessly Jim rose to his hands and knees and crept forward. The small twigs and needles, crackling under his weight, sounded in his ears like exploding fireworks. He stopped; went on again; stopped; went on again. How could Dolph fail to hear him coming? The distance was less than two yards, but to the crawling lad it seemed far longer.

Now he was close behind the unconscious bandit. He straightened up, setting his right foot squarely on the ground. As he did so a little branch snapped. Dolph, startled, turned his head. Before he could lift a finger Jim was upon him like a panther.

There was an indistinct cry of alarm.

_Spang!_

Off went a revolver, discharged at random, and the two were struggling in a confused heap under the low boughs.

It was a short fight. A third figure launched itself into the melee. Though not nearly so strong as Jim, Budge alone would have been a good match for any average man, and the two of them together speedily vanquished Dolph. A firm hand was pressed over his mouth and he was relieved of his automatics. Finding that his captors were not disposed to injure him, he soon ceased his struggles.

Silence again. One of the would-be plunderers and the weapons of both were in the boys' hands. What should they do next?

"Hi! Hi! Scat, you brutes! Get a move on!"

Brittler's voice shattered the midnight stillness as he came, driving the sheep before him. From their covert the boys could look across the pasture and see the black, leaping shapes fast drawing nearer. It was high time to prepare to meet their second foe.

"Throppy, Whittington, Filippo! Come here! Quick!"

They came, Percy in the rear, his knees shaking.

"Budge, can the four of you handle this man if I let go?"

"Easy!"

"Keep his mouth shut till I tell you he can open it!"

"All right!"

Lane's hand replaced Jim's over Dolph's lips. The other three grasped him wherever they could find a chance. It would not have taken much to shake off Percy's trembling grip, but the prisoner was content to remain quiet.

There was a patter of hoofs; the sheep were coming. Soon they were flitting by the ambush, shying off as their keen senses warned them of possible danger. Again they scattered toward the northwest end of the island. After them danced Brittler, roaring with anger.

"What are you waiting for, you numskull?" he cried. "Why didn't you shoot? I heard you fire once some minutes ago, and thought you might have been aiming at a stray one. I had almost the whole flock bunched right before me. You couldn't get a better chance if you waited a week. Now I've got to waste another half-hour chasing 'em round again. What's the matter with you, anyway? Why don't you speak?"

He was within five yards of the silent group under the spruces when Spurling's voice rang sharply out:

"Halt there!"

At the same instant he flashed the ray from his electric lantern straight into the captain's face.

Brittler stopped short, as if struck by lightning. His jaw dropped, and a ludicrous look of alarm and bewilderment overspread his features.

"Take your hand off his mouth, Budge," ordered Jim, "and let him tell the captain what's happened."

Thus adjured, Dolph spoke:

"I've been taken prisoner, Captain. They jumped on me in the dark and I had a chance to fire only one shot. I think there's at least half a dozen of 'em, and they've got both our revolvers, so we haven't a chance. That's all there is to it."

Brittler had recovered from his first panic. He bristled up with pretended indignation.

"What do you mean, whoever you are, by jumping on us this way? And take that light off my face! I don't like it."

Spurting did not remove the steady ray from the features of the irate captain. He waited a moment before replying.

"Captain Brittler," he said, "you and Dolph came to steal sheep, and it isn't your fault that you haven't been able to do it. You thought there was nobody on this island and that you could kill and take to suit yourselves. You've been caught red-handed. By good rights you ought to be turned over to the sheriff. We'll let you go this time, but if we catch you here on such an errand again you'll have a chance to tell your story before a jury."