Part 7

At first he rejected the thought. The better thing was to row back, get the captain and the boys, and come back in a body, trusting to luck that the cruiser would be there. But there was always the chance that there was nothing wrong with the cruiser and he would be wasting time. If the cruiser should sail away while he was gone he would never know for sure if it had belonged to the men they sought or not. No, he must find out at once and alone, so carefully pulling in his oars he quietly paddled the boat nearer to the cruiser, cautiously using only one oar.

Balancing himself and keeping the nose of the little boat from thumping the cruiser was a job that required skill, but Terry, concentrating every nerve, managed to do it. He knew that if any one suddenly opened the companionway door he would be lost, for a flood of light would instantly give him away. If that emergency came he was determined to push off and row for the shore with all his strength. When he got to the rail of the cruiser he slipped the rope around a support and breathlessly stepped onto the small afterdeck.

It was one of the hardest jobs he had ever done in his life. The cruiser was light and weight, placed in the wrong place, would surely make it tip enough for those inside to realize that something or someone was aboard that had no business there. The chances were that the deck was tight enough to keep from creaking under his steps, but he had to look out for loose ropes or any other thing which might be underfoot. It was with a rapidly beating heart that Terry stood on the deck of the cruiser, listening intently for sounds, ready to take to flight at an instant’s notice. But after a few seconds, during which a low murmuring of voices from inside reached him, he came to the conclusion that nothing was likely to happen at the moment and he crept slowly and carefully to the starboard side of the cruiser, toward the strip of deck and the window which showed on that side.

Here again he had to be careful that his weight did not careen the boat, but fortunately for him the cruiser had been built broadly and it would have taken someone with greater weight than Terry Mackson to have tipped it. He gained the narrow deck and went down on his hands and knees, creeping along until he was underneath the window. Then, with infinite care, he thrust his head forward inch by inch and looked in the window.

Benito and Frank were playing cards at a small table. Both men, with cigars in mouth, were intent on the game. Beside them, on a bunk, lay the lighthouse keeper, or so Terry judged, for the man, who was tall and thin, was tied to the bunk and at the present moment lay looking sullenly up at the roof of the cabin.

Evidently Frank had won, for he pocketed some money with a grin, while Benito pushed the cards from him with a savage growl. The leader picked the cards up and placed them in a dirty box and Frank looked at his watch.

“Guess Marcy ain’t coming,” he said, looking inquiringly at the big man. “What are we going to do?”

“We’ll go on down without him,” decided Benito. “Something must have come up that kept him. We might as well get back to the hide-out before somebody comes prowling around. No use in getting caught with him on our hands.” He jerked his thumb toward the man on the bunk, who turned and glared at him.

“The government’ll fix you for this, you’ll see,” the captive lighthouse keeper shrilled.

“Aw, dry up,” snorted the leader of the gang. “If you hadn’t put up such a holler because we tried to walk off with your brass telescope you wouldn’t be here. Lucky thing I dragged you away from that telephone, or you’d have the country down on us.”

“I will yet,” shouted the keeper. “Stealin’ government property and kidnappin’ a lighthouse keeper is a pretty serious crime. See what you get out of it.”

Frank looked at the big man. “What he says is true,” he muttered. “What are we going to do with the old fool?”

Benito shrugged his shoulders impatiently. “Don’t know yet. We’ll have to drop him somewhere far down the shore.” He got up quickly. “Let’s get underway.”

So great had been Terry’s interest that he had not stopped to consider that he would not have time to get away, but he realized it now. It was but one step from the cabin to the afterdeck and before he could move Frank had made that step. Terry groaned inwardly, not so much because he felt that he would be seen at once as from the realization that the rowboat would be discovered. He waited for the shout that would herald the discovery, but it did not come, and in another moment the throb of the cruiser’s engine came to him as he lay there face downward on the narrow deck.

Later on he discovered that the thing which prevented his immediate discovery was the fact that he had but loosely roped the painter of the rowboat, and that it had slipped off and drifted away while he was listening to the conversation at the window. But at the time he was not even wondering, but was thinking seriously of escape. He could slip overboard and swim away, trusting to luck to remain hidden in the darkness long enough for them to get away on their run to their hiding place. The shore was not far off and he would have no difficulty in reaching it. But as he swiftly reflected upon his difficult position, he resolved to see it through and go with the bandits to their secret retreat.

The men evidently had some secret place to which they could retreat in case of a general hunt, and to find that place was worth the risk that he might run. Another thought was the fact that he did not wish to abandon the lighthouse keeper. He might be able to go for help later on and so be of great value to the man who was tied up inside. These thoughts shot rapidly through Terry’s head as he lay there in the darkness, and awaited the turn of events.

With a speed that was breath-taking the cruiser began to forge ahead, and Frank, turning the little wheel at the top of the low cabin, sent it out to sea in a wide arc. The sharp bow of the cruiser hissed into the tiny waves like a hot iron, and the water, in long, graceful and curling billows, raced smoothly past the side. Benito went out on the deck and joined the smaller man and they talked together in low tones as the cruiser began its journey down the coast.

From where Terry lay he could still see in the window and he watched the captive on the bunk. As soon as Benito had left the room the man began to wrench at his bonds, but after ten minutes of futile effort he gave it up and settled back on the bunk with a groan of despair and rage.

Terry was fairly comfortable where he was but his chief fear was that either one of the men might look over the edge of the cabin and ruin his plans. But in all the time required to run ten miles down the coast neither of them looked in his direction, and Terry was carried securely onward.

They were now before a wild section of the country. There was not a light to be seen along the shore and the only sound, other than the steady and powerful throb of the marine engine, was the hollow boom of the huge waves on the shore. Terry judged by the sound that there was some shoal near the shore which accounted for the booming sound, for he had read of such things. And then his thoughts were diverted by the fact that Frank was throttling down the engine and swinging the cruiser around toward the shore.

Little as Terry knew about sailing it nevertheless puzzled him as to why the engine should be shut down while so far from the shore, for he knew that they could not possibly drift in that distance. While he puzzled over this the answer was suddenly presented to him.

Something huge and black rose up alongside the cruiser and Terry very nearly cried out in astonishment. It was two or three full minutes before the explanation came to him. They were moored beside the wreck of a huge old ship, one which had been hard and fast aground for years, and because it was in this lonely stretch of beach it had never been burned or destroyed, except by the slow action of the waves. Frank was tying the bow of the cruiser to the splintered rail of the ship, and passing close to Terry while doing so. The task completed, Frank jumped to the deck and called to Benito.

“All tied up, boss,” he said. “Shall we lug that old boy aboard?”

Benito gave gruff orders and the keeper, protesting and a little frightened, was lifted from the bunk and carried out on deck. He was somewhat roughly shoved over the rotting rail of the wreck and the two bandits followed him. For another minute Terry could hear their voices and then all became still.

He raised himself slowly, realizing for the first time that he was stiff and sore. Waiting for an instant to be sure that the men would not return for something, and finding at last that they apparently had no intention of doing so, Terry stood up and surveyed the old ship before him. He did not fully realize just what type it was, but it was a three-masted schooner of the old type, long and low, with splintered stumps of masts and broken wood littering the decks in every direction. Although it had been battered fearfully by the waves it had nevertheless been sturdy enough to resist total destruction, and as it was practically certain that no one ever visited it, it was indeed an ideal hide-away for the gang.

Terry was at first tempted to steal the boat of the gang and run back down the coast to summon aid, and could have done so had he known how to run the thing, but he knew that he could not and so gave the project up. The only thing left for him was to do some further spying and see just what the inside of the schooner looked like. To try landing on an uninhabited coast was pure folly, and as the future was uncertain he decided that his best move lay in inspecting the craft. Accordingly, he stepped from the cabin roof to the deck of the schooner, noting as he did so that it had been named the _Alaskan_ in the days of its pride and glory.

There was a large cabin in the very center of the schooner and toward it Terry made his way, stepping carefully over wreckage which littered the deck in every direction. He doubted if the men were in that particular cabin, for there was no light, but as there was pretty certain to be a good-sized hold under the ship he concluded that the actual place of concealment was there. At the doorway of the cabin he halted and looked around, but no one was in sight and he made his way down three steps, coming at last to the floor. It was wet and slippery but perfectly firm, and treading carefully Terry made his way toward another door which he could see at the other end of the cabin. A faint light shone through this door and he knew he was close to the nest which the outlaw band had made.

When he gained this door he found a new and safe ladder leading down into a large hold that took up much of the space of the ship. At the far end of this hold a small room had been partitioned off, and from this room a lantern sent its rays out into the big, barn-like hold. Terry crossed the hold, conscious of the lapping of water against the sides of the ship, and looked into the smaller room.

Benito and Frank were seated before a table, and the old lady who had been at the house on Mystery Island was setting some meat and potatoes before them. Terry had never seen the woman himself, but he was sure it was the same one from Don’s description of her. The keeper was sitting in a chair bound and apparently awaiting his turn to eat with sullen grace. From time to time Benito, who seemed in high spirits, turned to joke with his captive, but Timothy received all his advances with grunts and disagreeable faces, all of which amused the leader hugely.

Pressing back into the shadow Terry began to form plans for the rescue of the keeper. The schooner was large and he could hide away until the men were asleep and then, with the aid of the knife which he had in his pocket, he could liberate the keeper and they could make a dash for liberty. He would have to be careful in his prowling around the big ship, for it might be full of pit-holes which would seriously hinder his work. When he had rescued the keeper they could plan a way to escape, and possibly capture the gang. Of course there would be difficulties, but—

A step sounded behind him and he whirled swiftly. But before he could do anything else a heavy hand fell on his shoulder and a man stepped out into the light. He was a heavy set man with a dirty, half-bearded face, and just now there was a leer of triumphant satisfaction on it. It was the man Marcy, the third member of the gang.

“So!” shouted Terry’s captor. “What are you doing here, young fellow?”

_15. The River Barge_

Surprised as Terry was by the unexpected attack from the rear he nevertheless lost no time in getting into action. A second of numbed surprise took possession of him, and then, as he heard Frank and Benito jump to their feet, he pitched savagely at Marcy. A short-distance blow in the ribs almost doubled the man up and he grunted loudly, but his grip on the red-headed boy was not loosened. Twisting rapidly in the man’s grasp Terry tried to break away, but before he could wrench his coat free the others were upon him. They recognized him at once and lost no time in overpowering him. Flat on his back went the boy, with the three men sprawling over him.

“Let up!” gasped Terry, half smothered. “I know when I’m out of order!”

The men scrambled from him and Benito jerked him roughly to his feet. “What are you doing here?” snarled the leader, thrusting his face close to Terry’s.

“Had no intention of staying,” panted Terry. “In fact, I was leaving when this fellow insisted upon my staying.”

“Don’t be funny, young fellow,” thundered Benito. “Come in here, where we can see you.”

Roughly propelled by a shove Terry shot into the smaller room and the men gathered around him. “Now, out with it,” commanded the leader. “How did you get here?”

“I was out rowing and I stepped aboard your boat, which brought me here,” said Terry. “All the way from the lighthouse.”

“Spying on us, eh? Well, young fellow, it will be a sorry night’s work for you.” Benito glared at him. “Where are the others?”

“Still at the lighthouse, I’m afraid,” confessed Terry.

Benito turned to Marcy. “Where did you come from?”

“Been on the boat all night, boss,” explained the other. “I didn’t go up the line at all. I was back in the old cook galley when I heard you come on board, and when I came in this way I saw this boy standing back in the shadows, so I jumped him.”

“Lucky thing you did,” put in Frank. “We’re having entirely too much trouble with these kids.”

“But we won’t have any more with this one,” promised Benito, grimly. “Put him in the cell.”

“I suppose it is no use trying to bluff you fellows into letting me go,” said Terry. “But I’m warning you that you’ll get in big trouble for this.”

“That’s right, young fellow,” cried the lighthouse keeper, who was an interested onlooker. “We’ll make things warm for these boys once we get loose.”

“You’d better worry as to when you’ll be loose first,” sneered Benito. “Put him away, Frank.”

Frank opened a small door at the back of the room and Terry was pushed into a black cell. The door slammed shut and he heard a lock snapped. He was a prisoner on the old wreck.

Without loss of time he explored the small room in which he found himself and was at once convinced of the idea that escape was impossible. The cell was only a cubbyhole, with no opening anywhere, and the only article of furniture was a single chair. When he had become fully aware of his helplessness he went back to the door, and applying his ears to a crack, listened to the conversation of the men.

“Going to put him on the barge, eh?” he heard Marcy say.

“Yes,” answered Benito. “I’ll tell the captain to take him a good two hundred miles up the river and turn him loose. By the time he gets anywhere and joins his friends we’ll be out of the country and safe.”

Terry judged that they were talking about him and he listened for further details, but the conversation drifted off into other channels and none of it concerned him. After a time the men finished their meal, fed the keeper and then took him away somewhere. It was evident that there was a bunk room somewhere on the ship for the gang, for they put out the light in the next room and went away. A silence, broken only by the slapping of the waves against the wreck, settled down over the place.

He made a few more efforts to escape, but all of them were in vain. The door was solid and resisted all his efforts, and there was no other outlet to the cell. Convinced finally that all effort would be useless, Terry at last surrendered to the inevitable and went to sleep on the floor.

He was tired and slept soundly in spite of the hardness of his bed and he was finally aroused by the rattling of the lock on the door. He had gotten very hungry and he hoped that food was being brought to him, but when Benito and Frank opened the door their hands were empty. He faced them defiantly, awaiting the next move.

“Good morning, son,” greeted Benito. “Nice day, don’t you think?”

“Is it?” inquired Terry. “I haven’t had my morning walk yet, so I really can’t agree with you.”

“You’ll get your morning walk right now,” chuckled the leader. “Come along with us.”

“Where are you taking me?” demanded Terry.

“You’ll find out in a minute. Hurry up, we haven’t any time to waste.”

Knowing that resistance was useless Terry followed the men through the wreck and climbed the ladder to the deck. It was broad daylight and he judged it to be about seven o’clock. The day was not brilliant but the light was good, a smudgy sort of a sun peering out from behind the clouds. Terry looked anxiously over the water but there was no sign of any craft in sight except a dirty-looking barge which was moored to the side of the wreck. This barge was a large, sprawling affair, with weatherbeaten planks and a single raised cabin forward, from which a smoke stack protruded. Black smoke was pouring from the stack. A single companionway led down into the hold of the barge. Benito stepped to the side of the wreck and hailed an old man who was leaning against the doorway of the barge cabin.

“Hey, Ryder! Here’s your passenger!”

The captain of the barge, an evil-looking old man with white hair and long side whiskers, took a black pipe out of his mouth long enough to shout back: “Hurry up and put him aboard. I haven’t any time to lose.”

“Jump down there on deck,” directed Benito. “Lively, now.”

Terry obediently jumped down over the rail onto the deck of the barge and faced its captain. He looked briefly at the boy and then looked up at Benito.

“What do you want done with this boy?” he growled.

“Take him as far up the river as you are going and let him go,” replied the leader. “If he gets fresh, use your own judgment.”

The captain looked contemptuously at Terry. “If I hear one word out of him I’ll stretch him out with a marlinspike. That all you want me for?”

“Yes,” nodded Benito. “You do that and I’ll see that you get what is coming to you.”

The captain of the barge looked over his shoulder and into the cabin. “Get up steam, Tod,” he called. “You, Maxwell, cast off.”

A lumbering big man appeared out of the barge cabin and cast off from the wreck. Someone inside started a thumping engine. After having cast off Maxwell went to the clumsy tiller and steered the barge away from the wreck.

“Look here,” challenged Terry, to the captain, “if you don’t want to get into trouble you had better let me go.”

The captain looked him over briefly. “Get down below deck and help the cook,” he commanded, and turning on his heel, went into the cabin.

All thought of leaping overboard and swimming ashore was out of the question for the mate Maxwell was keeping a sharp eye on him, so Terry went down the short ladder into the ill-smelling hold of the barge. He found that it had been used for carrying bricks but was now empty. In the cook’s galley he found the cook, a tall, thin fellow with the air of a country farmer. The cook nodded briefly.

“Hello, bub. You’re the new passenger, eh? Had anything to eat?”

“No,” answered Terry, and studied the man before him. The cook was only about twenty-five years old, and had a rather kindly, simple face, which habitually wore a serious look. The man did not look like one of the river men and Terry decided that he might find help here.

The cook bustled around and got him some breakfast, talking all the while. Terry liked him more and more as the time went on, and afterwards he helped him clean up the galley.

“My name’s Jed Dale,” the cook told him. “Used to farm upstate a ways, but things got poor and I shipped on this here barge to go cook. I wish to goodness I was back on a farm again. We carry brick all winter and just now we’re goin’ to tie up at Summerdale for overhauling. How’d you get aboard?”

Terry told the man the truth, figuring to get the best results by doing so, and he was not disappointed. The cook shook his head when he heard the story.

“There’ll be big trouble when this is known,” he advanced. “I always cal’lated this outfit was more or less crooked. I’m signed with ’em for another year, but I sure would like to slip out and go back farming.”

“Then why don’t you?” urged Terry. “You have every right to break your contract because this bunch is not on the level. The very fact that they are kidnapping me is enough to get all hands in serious trouble. Help me to escape, and incidentally get yourself out of a bad mess.”

But the cook shook his head sadly. “You don’t know this Captain Ryder, or you wouldn’t talk so foolish,” he said. “A terrible man, this captain. Nobody dares to stand up to him. No, sonny, I couldn’t think of nothing so crazy as that.”

All of Terry’s arguments failed to move the cook and at length the boy went on deck to look around. The barge was slowly steaming up a broad but deserted river, the banks of which were thickly lined with dense trees and bushes. Terry reflected that had there been the slightest chance of escape he would gladly plunge overboard and attempt it, but he was never allowed out of sight of the three men who ran the barge. The engineer, Todd, was a short, black-bearded man with a sullen expression, a fitting member of the crew of the barge.

After the evening meal something happened which won the cook to Terry’s side completely. The three men were on deck smoking, the captain sitting on a capstan, the engineer at the door of the cabin, and Maxwell at the tiller. Jed was below and Terry, who had wasted no words on the three men, was silently gazing shoreward, wondering what his friends must think of his absence. Realizing that he was each moment drifting further and further away he found his patience and temper hard to control, but knowing that any rash act on his part would make things harder, he waited with what resignation he could for some shift in his fortunes.

Jed came up on deck to empty a bucket of bilge water over the stern, and passing the morose captain, nervously spilled some of it near him. It splashed his trousers and one boot, causing the cook to tremble violently. A mean look crossed the face of the old captain, and he raised his boot, and launched an ugly kick at the cook.

But Terry was too fast for him. He caught the foot before it connected with the dumb-stricken cook and diverted it enough to make the skipper miss his aim. And as the captain jumped to his feet, his gray eyes aflame, Terry clenched his fists and faced him firmly.

“I’ll break your neck, you meddling young soft baby!” roared the captain, raising his knotted fist.