fred craven was a famous rifle-shot, and although he was a “towny,” he was superior in all manner of backwoods accomplishments to any boy of his age in the settlement—even to walter and eugene, who lived in the woods, and who had handled shot-guns and rifles all their lives. he was an enthusiastic and persevering sportsman, and boasted that he never came back from a hunt empty-handed. when the club went out on their shooting excursions, featherweight always strayed off by himself; and when he met his companions again at night, he had more game to show than any of them, sometimes beating all the rest of the club put together. he thought almost as much of his pony as he did of any of his friends, and took great delight in training flyaway, his favorite hound.
[167]
flyaway was a remarkable dog in the estimation of his young master, although he did not stand very high in the opinion of the rest of the club. he would hunt a covey of quails with as much skill as any old setter, would bring ducks out of the water as well as a spaniel, and fight a bear as bravely as any dog in mr. gaylord’s pack; but he had never hunted wild hogs, and featherweight was anxious to see what work he would make at it. while the line was being formed that morning, and the boys and the negroes were about to advance toward the old bee-tree to attack the hogs which made their harboring-place there, walter, who was a very prudent and cautious fellow, and seldom got into trouble, and who knew that featherweight was sometimes disposed to be a little too reckless for his own good, thought it best to give him a word of advice.
“now, fred,” said he, “wild hogs are things not to be fooled with, and if i were in your place i wouldn’t put too much dependence on that animal there,” pointing rather contemptuously at flyaway. “he is a very good turkey and deer dog, but when he presumes to hunt such game as this[168] we are after now, he is getting above his business. a full grown wild hog is a terrible fighter.”
“having hunted them a few times in my life, i am not ignorant of that fact,” replied featherweight, assuming an air of importance that always made the club laugh, and speaking with as much dignity as so jolly a little fellow could command. “while i entertain the very highest respect for your opinions in general, and acknowledge that you are a good judge of horses, and a passable hand at hunting small game, such as squirrels and quails, i must be allowed to remark that i think you know nothing whatever about dogs. ‘that animal,’ as you are pleased to call flyaway, has no superior in this parish.”
“well,” returned walter, with a laugh, “keep close to us, and if you get into a scrape we can lend you a hand.”
but featherweight, being plucky and independent, did not see fit to follow this advice. he kept his hound close at his side while the line was moving toward the old bee-tree, and when the hogs were started he picked out the one that he thought was the largest and ordered flyaway to catch it. the hound sprang forward at the word, and in an[169] instant both he and the hog were out of sight in the cane.
featherweight’s pony had so often shown his heels to the other horses owned by the club, that his master had become vain of his speed, and boasted that he could not be beaten by anything; but distancing a horse on a smooth road, or over a level field, where there were no greater obstructions than logs and low fences to be encountered, was one thing, and running a race with a wild hog through a thick woods, the hog having nearly a hundred yards the start, was another. the animal made astonishing headway, and for a long time the boy could not come within sight of him. the noise he occasioned in running through the cane, and the angry yelps now and then uttered by the hound, guided the young hunter in the pursuit; but although he urged his pony forward by voice, whip and spur, he could not lessen the distance between them.
“i never knew before that a hog could run so,” soliloquized featherweight; “and i never thought either that flyaway was a coward. he is keeping within sight of that hog all the time, but he won’t catch him. rex would have had him by the ear[170] long ago. hi! hi! why don’t you take hold of him there?”
the hound replied with a short, quick bark, and a commotion in the bushes told the young hunter that he was doing his best to obey the command. featherweight yelled encouragingly and urged on his horse, which with a few more jumps brought his rider to the scene of the conflict—or, rather, to the spot where it had taken place; for when featherweight reached it the struggle was over. flyaway was a badly-whipped dog, and the wild hog was out of sight.
“now just look at that!” exclaimed the boy, indignantly, gazing after his hound which was retreating precipitately through the cane, with his sides bleeding from several ugly-looking wounds made by the long teeth of the wild hog. “that puts an end to your hunting for a month or two, my fine fellow; perhaps for ever. i’ll capture that hog now if i have to follow him for a week. i’ll try to tire him out and ride him down; and if i can’t do that, i’ll head him off and turn him back toward the old bee-tree, so that some of the other dogs can have a chance at him.”
featherweight, knowing that his wounded favorite[171] would make the best of his way to mr. gaylord’s house, and that when he arrived there he would receive every attention from uncle jim, the old negro who had charge of the hounds, once more put spurs to his pony and dashed through the cane in hot pursuit of the hog. he did not follow directly after him, but gradually turned off to the left of the trail, hoping to pass him and compel him to turn back in the direction from which he had come.
how long the chase continued featherweight could not have told. the rapid pace soon began to tell upon the pony, which showed a desire to settle down into a slow gallop; but the hog went ahead as swiftly as ever. as the boy had eyes and ears for nothing except the game he was pursuing, he did not know in what direction he was going or where he was, until he discovered an opening through the trees in front of him, and came suddenly upon the bank of the cove where the smugglers’ schooner was hidden. he thought he must be close upon the hog now, for, just as he drew rein, he heard a rustling among the bushes a little distance off; but had he investigated the manner, he would have found that the noise was not occasioned by the wild hog, but by bayard bell and his[172] cousins, who were concealed behind a log, watching his movements.
the sight of a schooner hidden away among the bushes in that lonely place was a most unexpected one to the eyes of the young hunter, and speedily drove all thought of the game out of his mind. he could not account for her presence there, and the longer he looked at her the more he wondered, and the more surprised he became. he ran his eye all over the vessel, noting the fine points about her that had so deeply interested bayard bell, but he could not discover anything that looked familiar, and he was finally obliged to conclude that he never had seen her before.
“i’ve lost the hog,” said featherweight to himself, gazing all around him to see if there were any of the crew of the vessel in sight, “but i’ve found a schooner. who owns her? who brought her here? where are the men who belong to her, and why is she hidden away in this cove? i can’t see any one about her,” he added, seizing a branch above his head and standing erect in his saddle to obtain a view of her deck. “yes, sir; she’s deserted, and here’s her yawl lying on the shore.[173] now, that’s lucky. i’ll just step aboard and examine into things a little.”
as featherweight said this he hitched his pony to a limb of the tree, sprang to the ground, and in a few seconds more was pushing the yawl through the bushes toward the schooner. had he gone around the stern and looked in at one of the windows—the curtains were raised now—he would have seen that the vessel was not deserted, and that there were four men there engaged in consultation: but he pulled straight toward the bow, and after making the yawl’s painter fast to the bobstay, sprang over the rail and looked about him. he could see no one. he listened, but could hear nothing, for the door leading into the cabin was closed, thus shutting out the sound of the conversation carried on by the captain and his men. stepping to the forehatch he looked down into the hold, and the first, object that caught his eye was a lighted lantern, standing at the foot of the ladder—the same one bayard had used during his interview with the prisoner.
“that’s the very thing i need,” said featherweight, as he descended into the hold. “i will look all over this craft now, and see if i can find[174] something to tell me what she is and where she belongs. suppose she should prove to be a private yacht, whose owner has come up here with a party of friends to go deer-hunting? if they should return suddenly and find me prowling about, they might not like it. perhaps it would teach them that it is a good plan to leave a watch on board a vessel.”
the first thing featherweight noticed when he reached the bottom of the ladder was, that for a vessel the size of the schooner, her hold was very shallow. he could scarcely stand erect in it. he was surprised at this, and he would have been still more surprised if he had known that the floor of the hold was provided with a fore, main and after hatchway, like the deck above, and that they led down into a second hold—the real hold of the vessel, in fact—which was nearly as large as the one in which he was then standing. he learned all about that, however, and about a good many other things, before he got through with the schooner. if he had known all that was to happen to him before he put his foot on shore again, he would have got out of that vessel without the loss of a single instant.
[175]
the hold was empty, and featherweight did not see anything to attract his attention until he crawled through a narrow passage-way that led around the forecastle to the extreme forward part of the vessel. there he discovered a locker, and the key was in the door. little dreaming what was on the other side of that door, he turned the key, and holding his lantern above his head looked into the room. he was not easily frightened, but he saw something that made the cold chills creep all over him, and caused him to utter a cry of alarm and stagger back into the hold as if some one had struck him a blow. it was a pale, haggard face which looked at him over the top of a coil of rope. he did not see anything familiar in it, but he recognised the voice which asked in indignant tones:
“are you ready to answer my question now?”
the sound of the voice quieted featherweight’s nerves, and after a moment’s hesitation he stepped into the locker and lowered his lantern so that he could obtain a fair view of the face. “it can’t be possible that this—chase, what in the name of wonder are you doing in this hole?” he asked, as soon[176] as he had satisfied himself as to the identity of the occupant of the locker.
“fred craven!” cried the prisoner, in great amazement. “well, i am beaten, now. i am taken all aback.”
“so am i,” replied featherweight. “what are you doing here?”
“i didn’t know that you were one of these fellows.”
“what fellows?”
“i should be glad if you would bring me a mouthful to eat, for i am almost famished,” continued chase, without answering featherweight’s question. “but first i want to know why you brought me here, and what you intend to do with me?”
“i!” featherweight almost shouted; “what did i have to do with bringing you here?”
“well, you know something about it, don’t you?”
“i!” repeated featherweight, growing more and more bewildered. “boy, you’re crazy. why don’t you get up and come out from behind that coil of rope?”
“look here!” exclaimed the prisoner, who did[177] not seem to understand the matter at all; “are you not one of them?”
“one of whom?”
“don’t you belong to the band?”
“what band?”
“why, the smugglers.”
“eh! chase, you’re dreaming.”
“do i dream that i am a prisoner?”
“a prisoner!”
“yes; and that i have been shut up here ever since last night? if you are not one of them, what made you come here? how did you get aboard?”
“i came off in the yawl. i found it on shore.”
“did you?” exclaimed chase, eagerly. “that accounts for it. i understand the matter, now.”
“i don’t,” replied featherweight. “i am all in the dark.”
“if you will release me i will soon enlighten you. you will have to use your knife, for my hands are tied behind my back, and one end of the rope is made fast to a ring-bolt in the deck, so that i can’t get up.”
featherweight was more amazed than ever when he found that chase was a prisoner, but he refrained from asking any questions, knowing that in due[178] time he would hear all about it. he forgot now that chase was his sworn enemy, and that only the day before he had been standing face to face with him in a hostile attitude, and that when bayard and his men approached to attack the sportsman’s club, chase had singled him out as his own special object of vengeance, and made at him as though he meant to tear him in pieces. featherweight did not care to remember this against him now; but chase must have thought of it, for when his visitor placed his lantern on the floor, and, clambering over the coil of rope, bent down to untie the prisoner’s arms, the latter said, with some embarrassment—
“fred, i little thought yesterday that i should ever have to ask a favor of you.”
“never mind it now,” replied featherweight. “i didn’t bear you any ill-will, and i hope that from this time forward we will be fast friends.”
“you may safely bet on me,” said chase, earnestly, as featherweight helped him to his feet. “you have rendered me a great service, and i’ll never forget it. now, let’s leave here at once. i have passed a most miserable night in this locker, and i want to get out of sight of it as soon as i can. i will explain everything presently.”
[179]
featherweight knew from his companion’s manner that he had some exciting revelation to make. wondering what it could be, and impatient to hear it, he picked up his lantern and started back through the passage-way, closely followed by chase, who kept looking back over his shoulder, as if he were afraid that there might be some one pursuing him. when they reached the ladder, and featherweight was about to ascend to the deck, chase caught him by his sleeve and held him back. “be very careful,” said he, in a suppressed whisper, “there may be some of them still on board, and if they see us we are done for.”
“they? who?”
“why, coulte and his sons. yes, they are members of the band,” added chase, in response to an inquiring look from his companion, “and they are the ones who got me into this scrape.”
“what have you done to them?”
“nothing. they were acting under instructions from bayard and his cousins. they attacked wilson and me last night while we were in mr. gaylord’s yard, and pulled me off my horse.”
“who did—bayard and his cousins?”
“no, coulte’s boys.”
[180]
while this conversation was going on the door of the cabin opened, and the four men who had been holding their consultation there came out and ascended to the deck. the moment mr. bell reached the top of the companion-ladder he heard the sound of voices coming from the forehatch, and his suspicions were aroused at once.
“who’s that?” he asked, turning to coulte, who was close at his heels.
the old frenchman, who also heard the voices, was so astonished and alarmed that he could not answer the question. he stepped cautiously to the side of the vessel and saw the yawl made fast to the bobstays. could it be possible, he asked himself, that bayard, instead of going ashore with the boat, as he ought to have done, had pulled around the schooner, and gone down into the hold to have another talk with the prisoner? if such was the case, his discovery by his father was certain. mr. bell saw from the expression of coulte’s face that there was something wrong, and ordering him and his sons in a low but stern voice, to remain perfectly quiet, he walked forward on tip-toe. arriving at the hatchway, he looked down into the hold and saw the two boys there—chase sitting on the lower[181] step of the ladder, gazing at his wrists, which were red and swollen from having been so long confined, and featherweight standing in front of him with one hand in his pocket, and the other holding a lighted lantern. mr. bell was about to call out to them and demand what they were doing there, when something one of them said attracted his attention; and drawing back from the hatchway so that he could not be seen if either of the boys should chance to look toward the deck, he listened with all his ears. the first word he heard brought an expression of amazement to his face, which gradually changed to a look of intense alarm as the conversation proceeded.
“chase,” said featherweight, “i can’t make head or tail of what you are trying to tell me. now begin at the beginning and let me know how you came here, who brought you, why you were bound and confined in that locker, and all about it.”
“do you know that there is a gang of smugglers around here, and that we see and talk to some of its members nearly every day?” asked chase, abruptly.
“no,” replied featherweight. “i knew there was such a band somewhere on the coast, for walter[182] was reading about it this morning in the paper; but i didn’t know that they were so near us.”
featherweight remembered that perk had given it as his decided opinion that, if the sportsman’s club and bayard and his men had come to blows on the preceding day, the club would have whipped three of the relations of the ringleader of the band; but he did not allude to it, for he was not in the habit of repeating what was said to him by his friends. it was this quality—the ability to hold his tongue, and a very rare one it is, too—that had made featherweight so many friends. if any of the students at the academy wanted a trustworthy confidant, they always selected him, for he was never known to tell a secret. more than that, they could say what they pleased before him about anything or anybody, so long as they did not abuse any of his friends, and there was no danger that it would ever be repeated.
“well, they do live near us—right here in our very midst,” continued chase; “and you are at this moment standing on board their vessel!”
“no!” exclaimed featherweight.
“but i say, yes; you are. and now i will tell you how i came to find out about them.”
[183]
chase settled himself into an easy position on the ladder, and proceeded to give his companion a history of everything that had happened to him since he had last seen the members of the sportsman’s club. he told how bayard and his cousins had excited the suspicions of himself and wilson by leaving them and going off together; how they had crept through the bushes and overheard their conversation about the smugglers, and the plans they had laid against walter gaylord; how bayard, in order to get him and wilson out of the way, had raised a quarrel with them and told them to go home; how they had waited until dark and then started for mr. gaylord’s house, intending to see walter and put him on his guard against coulte and his sons; how they had been waylaid at the gate by a couple of sailors, who proved to be pierre and edmund; and wound up giving an account of bayard’s visit to the schooner that morning.
“from some things bayard said when he was here,” added chase, “i have come to the conclusion that they did not intend to capture me, but mistook me for walter. you know i ride a white horse and dress something like him, and it is very easy for one to make a mistake in the dark. bayard[184] was astonished and very angry when he found me in the locker, and i heard him say to coulte that it was none of his affair (alluding, i suppose, to my capture), and that he washed his hands of it.”
“then why didn’t coulte set you at liberty?” asked featherweight.
“i suppose he was afraid that i would go to the village and make trouble for him,” replied chase; “and i can assure him that his fears were well founded. i am not going to be bound hand and foot and shut up in a dark hole like that for nothing; now i tell you. if i don’t raise a breeze in this settlement as soon as i put my foot on shore again, it will be because i don’t know how. he didn’t help the matter much by keeping me a prisoner, for wilson is at liberty, and i know he won’t eat or sleep till he tells my father everything.”
“and so they intended to lose walter in the west indies? that’s a queer idea.”
“i call it absurd. that boy couldn’t be lost in any part of the world. he would find his way home from the north pole. but there’s another thing i want to tell you,” added chase, sinking his voice almost to a whisper, and assuming a very mysterious air which made his companion impatient[185] to hear what he was about to say, “and that is, that bayard’s father is the leader of this gang.”
“no!” cried featherweight again.
“it’s a fact. while bayard was talking with coulte just outside the locker—i heard every word he said—some one whistled from the shore, and the old frenchman declared that it was the captain. i heard a boat put off from the vessel and come back with mr. bell. i know it was he, because i recognised his step and also his voice. i have heard him speak a good many times during the three weeks i have been visiting at his house, and it is impossible that i should be mistaken.”
“where do you suppose he is now?” asked featherweight, who told himself over and over again that chase had certainly taken leave of his senses, and didn’t know what he was talking about.
“he may be on board the vessel, for all i know; or he may have gone ashore with the yawl and left it where you found it. we’d better be going, too.”
“i should say we had,” replied featherweight, making his way cautiously up the ladder. although he did not believe a word of the story he had heard—he told himself it was utterly unreasonable—he[186] thought it best to be on the safe side, and to reconnoitre the deck before he went up there. “i am glad i have been able to do you a service, chase,” he added; “but if i had known that this craft was a smuggler, you wouldn’t have caught me——”
featherweight suddenly paused, his face grew as pale as death, and he backed down from the ladder with much greater haste than he had ascended it. while he was speaking he happened to look upward, and saw mr. bell leaning over the combings of the hatchway, glaring down at him like a caged hyena. he began to put a little more faith in chase’s story, now.
