CHAPTER XIII

IN A TIGHT CORNER

"We are cornered, I fear," said Mr. Blunt as soon as he had fully realized what was happening, and that the enemy were now following swiftly, their big river boat under sail, and part of their gang in a craft which they propelled with oars, "unless we also could hoist a little canvas. But I fear that that is out of the question, for the sail is a big one."

Then they went to the mast, to find the yard and sail extremely heavy, while in the darkness it was almost impossible to find the hoisting gear. However, the knowledge that something must be done if they wished to escape spurred them on to make an effort, and after a little fumbling in the dark they managed to hoist a few feet of the sail, and even to get some way on the boat.

"Do as they did," sang out Mr. Blunt. "Push her head round, while I go to the tiller. Once we are under way, stand ready with one of the poles to push them off if they get too near. One can use the pole while the other stands over him with his revolver. And remember to shoot swiftly. The man who can draw trigger first on occasions like this stands the best chance of coming alive out of the struggle. Ah, I see them again! I wish this boat would swing a little more quickly."

There was a note of anxiety in his voice, for the minutes were passing rapidly, and though their own sail had now been hoisted for quite two minutes the boat had not yet swung round with her bow down stream. As for the enemy, the vessel on which they were was already well under way; but she still had to make up the distance which she had previously lost, and which had steadily increased as the stream bore Dudley and his friends along. For a time she had been lost to view in the darkness, and only the shouts of the rascals on her deck showed where she was, while the answering calls of the gang in the small boat, and the splash of their paddles, told that they too were already dangerously near. Dudley stood in the stern of the boat listening intently to the splashes and the calls, and then leaving his comrades for a moment went carefully along the deck on hands and knees, searching for something with his fingers.

"If that small boat comes alongside she will be more difficult to deal with than the other," he thought. "Those rascals will hang on till some are on board, and we shall be kept so busy that we shall not be able to deal with their friends. I remember a coil of rope which lay amongst our stores. I fancy it is heavy enough for my purpose."

The numerous articles which Mr. Blunt had purchased in Buenos Ayres had been loaded into the hold of the vessel, and some had also been placed a little forward of the mast. There were many coils of rope and wire in these stores, and at this moment Dudley thought of them. He soon reached the spot where he remembered he had seen them placed, and fumbled in the darkness with his fingers till he lit upon one of the coils of rope. It was closely wound, and consisted of inch cable, which was securely lashed into a coil. Standing over it, he lifted it to his shoulder with an effort and bore it aft, staggering under the weight. A second or more later he had tumbled it on to the deck with a bang.

"For the gentlemen in the small boat if they happen to wish to pay us a visit," he said significantly. "If I can make a good shot with this coil I think there will be little boat left. Now for the other vessel. Is she in sight?"

"In sight, and almost within striking distance," answered Harold promptly, for he had sprung on to the rail of the ship and had been peering eagerly into the darkness. "She is coming up on our left. Look there! You can see a big black mass, fifteen feet behind us, perhaps."

The report was only too true, and before long Dudley himself could see the bow of the vessel, and even thought he detected a couple of figures standing there. If he had had any doubt, their sudden calls to their comrades proved their presence beyond contradiction. Indeed, two of the gaucho ruffians were standing as far forward as they could get, and as Dudley watched them they called loudly, their shouts bringing their comrades running along the deck to join them.

"Within a little way, comrades," said one of the rascals, as he drew his weapon, "and if this darkness does not make a fool of me I can see one of the fellows at the tiller. This will soon show if it is a man or a shadow. I'll wager that I make a hit."

He coolly presented his revolver at the figure of Mr. Blunt, which could be dimly seen at that distance, and he pulled the trigger gently. There was a loud report at once, a report which went echoing down the river, and brought a cheer from the men rowing the smaller boat. A spout of flame shot from the muzzle, and a ball hissed across the narrow space, missed Mr. Blunt by the smallest interval, and, flying on, struck Harold Joyce on the tip of the shoulder, penetrating the muscle and emerging on the other side. A sharp cry escaped the lad, which was drowned instantly by the report of Dudley's weapon, and by a rattling volley which came from the pursuers, for the flash had lit up the scene and shown the three figures standing in the stern of the boat which they were following. However, their bullets flew wide of the mark, while the flash which had enabled them to fire proved of advantage to Dudley and his friends also. Dudley had been watching the dim figures aboard the pursuing boat, and hardly had the report of the first pistol shot died down when his own weapon cracked sharply, and the man who had fired dropped like a stone, a bullet having struck him in the very centre of the forehead.

"Two to us and one to them, I think," said Mr. Blunt cheerily. "That was a quick shot, Dudley, and will teach them caution perhaps. Now, my lad, I think you were hit. Not badly I hope."

"It is nothing, sir," came the ready answer, for once he had recovered from the first shock of the wound Harold Joyce had determined to make little of it. His old fears were forgotten and to tell the truth the lad was rather enjoying this brush with his late companions. There was now no thought of danger, only a feeling of huge relief, for had he not unburdened himself, and obtained the forgiveness of his old comrade? And with that feeling of relief was a curious and altogether novel sense of elation. He felt wonderfully cool and steady, and seeing that Dudley and Mr. Blunt were precisely the same, he took heart from that and vowed quietly to himself that if he came out of this his first engagement alive he would also emerge from it with credit to himself. And then, to think what joy it would be to him, to Harold Joyce, to know that he had done well, to feel that he had acted a man's part, had behaved like a man, he who till a few minutes before had hardly dared look an honest fellow in the face. He had not forgotten his old behavior, his despicable crime, and the cowardice and treachery to a friend which he had shown. He would never forget that as long as he lived perhaps, for it would help him to make amends, to live in the future so that no one could point the finger of scorn at him. Now was his opportunity, and he seized upon it eagerly.

"Just a little blow on the shoulder, sir," he said easily. "It is merely a pinprick, and only reminds me that they have revolvers. I owe them something, and mean to repay it. I'll try a shot."

Up till then he had not drawn trigger, but now he coolly stepped on to the rail again, peered at the black shape surging up astern, and then took a snap shot, sending a leaden messenger crashing into the middle of the group of rascals, and bringing a shout of pain from one of them. A second later Mr. Blunt had dragged him down under the rail again.

"Number three!" he said with an exclamation of pleasure. "You are doing well, Joyce. But you must not be foolhardy. Remember that the flash of your pistol gives them a chance, for it shows up your figure. They missed you by the purest chance."

Indeed the flash of his weapon had been the signal for another rattling volley from the enemy, the bullets singing over the heads of the trio, and sweeping away into the space beyond. As for the man who had been struck, he went crawling aft on hands and knees, groaning as he went.

"Within ten feet I should say," said Dudley suddenly, "and the fellow who is steering the vessel is sweeping her bow over towards us. It is nearly time to put out our pole. What are we to do supposing they grapple with us and get aboard?"

It was a difficult question to decide, and for some few seconds there was silence while the three peered away astern at the pursuers, who were steadily coming up, while Mr. Blunt cast an anxious glance ahead. The boat which he steered was now heading directly down stream, and had increased her pace. But she was showing only a little canvas, while the enemy had their sail hoisted to its full height. That the gang of ruffians would overhaul them was perfectly clear; within five minutes they would be surging alongside, with their rail grating against that of the vessel which they were pursuing.

"It is hard to say what we ought to do," he answered slowly. "They are sure to come up with us, and equally sure to lash their rail to ours. They know that we are here, and will come tumbling aboard and make a rush into the stern. Let us consider how many we shall have to meet."

"That is soon answered," spoke out Harold boldly. "We have hit three. Six are left. Just two to one. Why not change our places, sir? If we crept forward as they came alongside, they would find the stern vacated when they climbed aboard."

"But they would find us in the end," interrupted Dudley. "Why not try another trick? We can creep forward, as Harold suggests, and then get aboard their boat as they board us. A cut with a knife then would alter matters. We should be able to sail away, and----"

"A pretty plan, and one which we will carry out if we have the chance," cried Mr. Blunt. "It is quite certain that if we stay here they will prove too strong for us. We must make the utmost use of the darkness, and it is agreed therefore that we go forward, conceal ourselves under the rail, and as soon as they are on board clamber across to their deck and cut the ropes, for they are sure to lash the two craft together. I will make my way forward, while you will take the rope aft, Dudley. That is agreed. Then I think we will take up our places at once. They are already very near, and I reckon that within a minute they will be alongside. Slip off one by one. Joyce, lead the way please, and remember, there must be silence. We slip aboard, cut the lashings, and make off. I will take the tiller."

It was high time indeed that they should make some arrangement, for, as Mr. Blunt had said, the enemy were even then within striking distance. The ruffianly sailor who controlled the vessel on which the gang were pursuing was a man who knew his business and had steered a course on many an occasion. More than that, the fellow had the eyes of a cat, for he seemed to be able to make out the outline of the boat ahead in spite of the darkness, and indeed, by sitting on the deck, and getting his head as low as possible, had for some while been able to discern the mast of the fugitive boat against the stars above. He knew now that his bow was in a line with the stern of the other vessel, and with the knowledge that he was overhauling her very rapidly he moved his tiller just a little and sent his own craft swirling closer, so that her rail would touch that of the one in front.

"In a minute, comrades!" he sang out in execrable Portuguese. "I am running alongside. One of you take a rope forward and lash the rails as soon as they meet. I will see to the job being done aft here."

A call told him that his comrades understood, and once more the ruffian put his helm over. The ships touched a moment or two later, and by then the bow of the pursuer was half-way along the side of the boat on which Dudley and his friends crouched. A minute later the boats were sailing on a dead level, and the time had come to lash them together. The sailor promptly left his tiller, and, snatching a length of rope which he had placed at his feet, sprang at the rail, while those who were forward carried out their part of the task as rapidly as possible. A shout told that they were ready, and within an instant the sailor had left the stern and had run forward to meet them.

"We have them at last, the dogs," he shouted. "They were in the stern. Follow! Cut the lubbers to pieces."

He led the way on to the deck of the other vessel, and close behind him came his comrades, all revolver in hand, eager to be the first to shoot down the three who had stood in the stern, and who had shot their leader and two others of their number. They went rushing along the deck, the sailor emptying his weapon as he ran, for he took the gaunt outline of the mast for one of the men he sought.

"Our time to move," whispered Mr. Blunt. "Remember, I go forward, while Dudley takes the rope aft. I'll be with you in a moment."

As silent as ghosts, and as active as cats, the three slipped over the rails on to the other vessel, where Mr. Blunt went on hands and knees and with wonderful agility slid and scrambled along the deck. As for Dudley, he ran aft, keeping his hand all the while on the rail, and did not stop till it had struck upon the rope which the sailor had placed in position. With a slash he severed it, and then went to the tiller, there to wait for his leader. As for Harold Joyce, he stood on the deck opposite the point where he had clambered aboard, and, crouching under the shelter of the rail, waited, prepared to protect Mr. Blunt with his revolver.

Meanwhile those who had swarmed aboard the boat which they had been so feverishly following were at a loss to understand what had happened.

The sailor had quickly discovered that he had made an error in firing at the mast, and as by then he was within sight of the stern, he came to a sudden halt, and sheltered his body behind the big mass of timber.

"Shoot when you see them," he shouted. "They must be lying on the deck. Give them a volley, comrades."

It was one of the gauchos who made the gang aware of the fact that the stern was empty. He peered into the darkness for a moment, and then rushed aft till he came to the rail, his revolver held in readiness in case his eyes should have deceived him.

"Not here!" he called angrily. "This is where we saw them when the last shot was fired. They must have gone forward, or have dived into the cabin. After them! We will riddle them with bullets once we come upon them. Ah, peste take the man who fired then! Be careful with your weapons."

He turned savagely upon one of the gang, who, thinking he saw a figure beside the rail a little for'ard of the stern drew trigger on it, sending a bullet dangerously near his comrade. Then, joining the sailor, this gaucho led the way forward, this time at a slower pace, searching every foot of the deck.

"Empty!" exclaimed the sailor with an oath. "Then they have gone into the cabin, and we shall have a pretty business to get them out. What's best to be done?"

He turned on those who followed him, forgetful of the fact that none knew English. But they seemed to guess at his meaning, for the gaucho promptly led the way back to the cabin.

"An ugly place to search," he admitted as he made out the outline of the roof of the saloon which Dudley and Mr. Blunt had occupied, and came to a halt at the short flight of stairs leading down to it. "A man does not care to dive into a dark hole like that and be shot down like a dog. The fellows are skulking behind the door, and will see us before we can catch sight of them. What's to be done? Coop them up below and wait till morning seems the best way out of the difficulty."

"And have a hundred busybodies asking what the noise is about, and why we are so carefully shooting white men on the river," shouted the man at his elbow, pushing him aside indignantly. "What has to be done must be done now. I'm going into the cabin."

As if to let the occupants of the tiny place know that he was coming, the ruffian emptied four of the cartridges in his revolver into the door of the cabin, sending the bullets ripping through the wood, and thudding heavily against the bulkhead beyond. Then, quickly following his messengers, he leaped to the bottom of the stairway and burst into the saloon.

"Empty!" he shouted a moment or two later. "Not a soul in here. Where are the pretty birds?"

Where indeed? The members of the gang raced up and down the deck, searching vainly for the men they wanted, and never even suspecting the trick which had been played upon them. It was not till they had felt in every corner, and come very near to shooting one another in the confusion caused by their haste and the darkness, that it slowly dawned upon their minds that the birds had flown. Then they looked for the ship on which they had taken passage, and which they had slipped from her moorings not ten minutes before, and were struck dumb with astonishment to find that she was already some ten feet from them, and hardly discernible in the darkness. Indeed it is probable that they would not even now have suspected what had really happened had it not been for a sudden commotion close at hand. They had entirely forgotten the noisy comrades who had gone ashore, and who had since embarked on a small boat. Even Mr. Blunt and his two stanch young friends had allowed the existence of this other gang to slip their memory, for their hands were very full. They had carried out their scheme in absolute silence and with wonderful celerity. They had severed the ropes, and then with a whispered word to one another had placed themselves along the rail of the captured vessel, and, keeping as low as possible, had pushed the two boats apart. Not till then had Mr. Blunt taken his station at the tiller. He looked aloft, felt the river vessel cant as the wind filled her sail, and then pushed at his tiller.

"In a moment we shall have said good-by," he whispered. "Listen to the rascals! They will be angry when we are gone. Ah! Those other fellows! They are just beside us."

Both heard the splash of oars, and then the loud calls of the men in the rowing boat. They had come up with their comrades, as they thought, and when Dudley looked over the stern rail there they were, alongside, and getting to their feet so as to climb aboard. He lifted his revolver and was on the point of firing when Mr. Blunt arrested the shot.

"Don't shoot," he whispered swiftly. "They do not know what has happened, and their fellows aboard our boat are also in ignorance. Get along the deck and find something heavy, like the coil you prepared before."

A word was enough, and within a second Dudley was running along the deck, bent double as he went. And fortunate it was for him and his friends that he was one of those lads who take in his surroundings somewhat more thoroughly perhaps than do average people. Everything that was novel interested him, and a ship had always been a fascinating subject to Dudley. He had made himself acquainted with every corner and hole of the river boat on which he and his employer had sailed from Buenos Ayres, as well as that upon which they had descended the river, and in both cases he had noted the fact that the vessels carried a spare anchor hooked to the rail in the bow. The memory of that spare anchor flashed across his mind, and at once he ran up into the bow, making no attempt to search for another object on the way. It was there. His fingers gripped the heavy piece of metal, and with a jerk he hoisted it from the grips which held it in place. Then he returned at a run, arriving breathless at the stern.

"That should do," said Mr. Blunt. "Take the tiller, and look out for shots. I'll do my best to teach those employees of mine a little lesson in honesty. Perhaps in future they will not take service with a man with the express intention of robbing and murdering him."

He leaned over the rail, the anchor poised over his shoulder, and glanced down at the men in the boat alongside. They were calling angrily to one another, for their evening ashore, and the darkness of the night, had led to no little confusion. Each man wished to be the first to climb aboard the vessel, while none were directed to cling to the rail. And in consequence it happened that no sooner did the majority of them rise to their feet than the boat slipped away from the side of the one they wished to board, and they were forced to paddle again to come up with her.

"Keep quiet there!" shouted one of their number. "Hold on there in the bow, while I get a grip here. Then clamber aboard one by one. Hi, comrade, throw us a rope!"

He had caught sight of Mr. Blunt's figure, and stood up to catch the expected rope. But it was a very different missile which descended at his feet. Mr. Blunt was not the man to muddle an affair like this by missing his aim. He leaned well over the rail, poised the anchor above his head, and then threw it down into the boat with all the force of which he was capable. There was a sickening thump as it struck one of the rascals, and this was followed instantly by the crash of splintering woodwork, and then by a babel of sounds, oaths, threats, and cries of fear. A shot was fired, while one of the more active of the men, realizing what had happened, made a desperate leap at the rail, and hung to it for a moment. But it was for only a brief moment, for again a pistol sounded, the sharp report drowning the shouts of the men below. The man dropped into the water like a stone, leaving Mr. Blunt staring down at the place which his figure had occupied. Then it was the turn of the rascals aboard the other boat.

"Let them shout," said Mr. Blunt calmly. "They are beaten, hopelessly beaten, for we have the legs of them now. Keep down, lads, for it would be sad to be hit now that the affair is almost over. That is, over for us. For these rascals, I promise you and them that it is by no means over. I will probe this matter to the bottom. Whatever it costs I will discover who is the ringleader, the scoundrel who sits quietly down at Montevideo and incites men to make an attack upon me, and I will do my utmost to punish these brigands for their work to-night. Ah, there go the pistols! Shoot till you are tired, my friends."

A furious volley came from the men aboard the boat which Dudley and his friends had so recently left, and for a minute the shooting continued till darkness and the increasing interval between the vessels had separated the combatants. As for those who had manned the smaller boat, into which the anchor had been cast, their shouts were soon drowned by the river. For the heavy piece of iron had beaten a hole in the bottom of the craft, and in a little while she had filled to the gunwale. Indeed, while those aboard the ship now being left behind were emptying their revolvers, their luckless comrades were struggling for life in the water. More than one of the wretches sank almost at once, while but two managed to reach the safety of the bank and scramble ashore. The tables had been turned, in fact. The rascally attackers, who had been in such great force, and who had hoped to take advantage of the Englishman, and secure his money, had been badly beaten. They had lost many from their gang, and, worse perhaps for those who remained--for such desperadoes think little of losses,--they had failed in their enterprise.

The cheer which the trio aboard the escaping vessel gave as they sailed away must have been maddening to the ruffians.

"That will tell them that we are alive and well," said Mr. Blunt. "Later we will do more to prove the fact. And now that we are under way, and have some breath to spare, let me say how grateful I am to this young gentleman. Shake hands, Mr. Joyce! Your gallantry has saved our lives. Dudley Compton and I are your debtors."

Each in turn took the blushing Harold by the hand and gripped his fingers warmly. This was his reward for acting the man, and for the resolution and courage which he had shown in the matter.