No Moss: or, The Career of a Rolling Stone

"Is he?" exclaimed Harry, eagerly; "so much the better. I was sure he could not take that vessel far, without making some mistake. We will go down on this side of the island and meet him. We shall reach the foot before he does, for he will have to go a long distance out of his way to avoid the shoals. If we can only catch him in the narrows, between the foot of the island and the main shore, he is our prize. We'll board him, and have a regular hand-to-hand fight with him."

Harry, highly elated at the prospect of a conflict with the pirates, held on his course until the schooner was out of sight behind the trees on the island, and then put the Storm King before the wind, and stood down for the narrows. The crew all understood the meaning of this maneuver, and, although nothing was said to indicate the fact, Harry knew that they were intensely excited. He was quite as badly off as the rest in this respect, and it required the exercise of all his self-control to maintain his dignity. The first lieutenant thought the island must have grown immensely since he last sailed around it. The mile that lay between him and the narrows seemed to have lengthened into five. The yacht appeared to him to be on her bad behavior also, but that was only Harry's imagination, for she was doing splendidly, although she did not move more than half fast enough to suit her eager and impatient crew. The minutes flew by, and at last the Storm King rounded the foot of the island. A half a dozen glasses were instantly brought into requisition, and to the immense relief of the crew, nothing could be seen of the schooner. The yacht flew along the edge of the shoals, and in ten minutes more entered the narrows and shaped her course toward the head of the island.

"Now, here's the place," said the first lieutenant. "If we meet him coming down we'll run up and board him before he can round to. Where is he, I wonder?"

The students were all on the watch, every eye being turned in the direction from which the pirate was expected to appear, and Harry nearly jumped from the deck when one of the crew sang out:

"Sail, ho! straight ahead, and coming down like the wind."

"It's the schooner!" exclaimed the lieutenant, in an excited voice.

"I believe it is," replied Harry, springing upon the rail to obtain a better view of the approaching craft. "Now I know it is. Station a man at the rattle, Mr. Jackson, and see that the crew are all in their places. I've got you now, Tom Newcombe!"

"Are you going to run him aboard, sir?"

"I am, indeed, if I get the chance."

"Humph! He seems to forget that there are two desperate villains on board that vessel, and that they are armed with revolvers," muttered the second lieutenant, under his breath. "We'll have a chance now to see how it feels to face loaded weapons."

Jackson thought his superior was becoming very reckless, but that did not prevent him from hurrying off to execute his commands. He sent another man to the wheel; stationed a midshipman in the waist to pass the first lieutenant's orders; placed one of the crew at the rattle; and collected the boarders in a group on the forecastle. Harry, from his perch on the rail, watched all that was going on, and, having seen the crew stationed to his satisfaction, he turned to look at the schooner. He found that if he had got Tom Newcombe, he was likely to lose him again, for the latter had kept his eyes open, and the moment he discovered the yacht he put his vessel about, and prepared to show Harry her heels. The maneuver was so clumsily executed, however, that the Storm King approached very near to her before she could fill away on her course again – so near that her bow was abreast of the schooner's waist, and only about ten feet from her. Every thing had worked as Harry thought it would if he met the pirate there, and he was sure of his prize.

"Hard a port," he shouted, so excited that he scarcely knew what he was about. "Stand by, Mr. Jackson."

"O, now, you had better mind what you are doing over there, Harry Green!" cried Tom, from the deck of the schooner. "You'll get the worst of it if you run foul of us."

"We're after you pirates," replied Harry, "and we're bound to have you. You had better surrender at once."

"Surrender!" repeated the governor, "not much we won't. We aint them kind of fellers. We're goin' to fight as long as a plank of this yere vessel stays above water. Mind that, spooneys."

The actions of the pirate crew fully confirmed the words of their chief. They rushed to the starboard side of the deck, flourishing handspikes, oars, and boat-hooks, evidently determined to make a desperate struggle for their liberties, and among them Harry could see the two burglars, one of whom was holding fast to the valise that contained Mr. Henry's money. The young tars saw the war-like preparations, and they saw the robbers, too, and knew that they were more to be feared than all the Crusoe band. It was no boy's play to face revolvers in the hands of such characters, but not one of the crew would have hesitated an instant, had the order been given to board the schooner. They saw Tom Newcombe there, and they could not forget that he had tried to burn the Storm King. They crouched behind the rail like so many tigers, ready for a spring, grasping their cutlasses, pikes, and muskets, and waiting for Harry to lay the yacht alongside the pirate, when they would leap over the rail and capture every one of their enemies, or drive them into the bay.

"Port it is, sir," said the quartermaster, in response to Harry's order.

The yacht and the schooner were rushing through the water, side by side, like a couple of race horses on the home stretch, the pirate being about half a length ahead; but, when Harry's order was obeyed, the Storm King fell off and swung toward the schooner, and the first lieutenant expected every instant to see the two vessels come in contact. So certain was he that such would be the case, that he held fast to the shrouds, to avoid being knocked overboard by the shock, and had even opened his lips to shout: "Boarders away!" when the Sweepstakes drew rapidly ahead and bounded on her course, leaving the yacht still swinging around as if she were about to start down the narrows again. A murmur of disappointment and indignation arose from the young tars on the forecastle, who looked first at their officer, and then at the rapidly receding schooner, as if they did not quite understand how she had escaped. Harry felt a good deal as did Tom Newcombe when he discovered the yacht coming out of the harbor, but he did not act as foolishly, by any means. He told the second lieutenant to come about and pursue the schooner, and then sprang down from the rail, saying:

"Did you ever see such luck? Did I make any mistake, Jackson?"

"No, indeed. You handled the yacht all right, but see, the pirate has longer legs than we have. Isn't she a trotter? She can run away from us, and not half try."

"I believe she can," replied the first lieutenant, who felt considerably crest-fallen over his defeat, and did not care to say much. "We will keep as close as possible to Tom, and be ready to take advantage of his next mistake. He'll be sure to make one presently."

Harry stood on his quarter-deck watching the pirate, and not more than ten minutes elapsed before he began to think that he knew what he was talking about when he predicted that her skipper would soon commit another blunder. Both vessels had by this time passed the shoals – the Sweepstakes being so far ahead that Harry could but just make her out through the darkness; but, instead of holding up the harbor and keeping far enough away from the bluffs to feel the full force of the wind, Tom rounded the shoals, and shaped the schooner's course toward the island. The first lieutenant was quite as much astonished as delighted at this apparent want of foresight on the part of the pirate captain, but he made no remark. He held on his way until the schooner was out of sight in the darkness, and then he tacked and ran toward the island.

"What do you think, Jackson," asked Harry, whose spirits were now as exalted as they had before been depressed; "hasn't he run into a nice trap? We've got him this time."

"Yes, he's caught easy enough now. He has no chance for escape that I can see. The shoals are on one side of him, and we all know that he can't cross them; the island is in front of him, and I am quite sure he can't get over that; we are behind him, and if he tries to come out we can cut him off. He's caught, sir."

Harry was certain of it. He ordered the crew to their stations once more, and went forward with his glass to watch for the schooner. The Storm King was headed toward the point where the shoals joined the island, and the first lieutenant was sure that when Tom became alarmed, and tried to run out, he could not pass by on either side without being discovered and cut off. He could not imagine what made him go in there. If he was trying to dodge the yacht, he was certainly going about it in a very awkward manner. A few minutes more passed, and Harry began to wonder why he did not see the schooner. She could not go much farther in that direction without being dashed upon the shoals, and Tom must soon round to and come out, if he wished to save his vessel. The roar of the breakers grew louder and louder as the yacht approached them, and the waves dashed and foamed over the ledge, just as they had done when the Crusoe men braved their fury two hours before. They were now getting quite as close to them as some of the students cared to go. Even Jackson became a little uneasy, and, although like all the rest of the crew, he kept a bright lookout for the Sweepstakes, he now and then glanced anxiously toward the first lieutenant, who, perched upon the rail, was turning his glass in every direction, fully conscious of their dangerous proximity to the breakers, but more interested, just then, in the fate of the schooner than in any thing else.

"Look here, Mr. Jackson," he exclaimed suddenly, "Tom had better come out of that. He'll be cast away as sure as he is a foot high."

The second lieutenant thought it very probable that the Storm King would be cast away also, if her commander did not mind what he was about; but, like a good officer, he said nothing. He knew that Harry was a better sailor than he was – he must have been, or he would not have held a higher rank; that he was quite as deeply in love with the yacht as any of the crew, and that he would not willingly run her into any danger from which he could not extricate her. But still the breakers roared loudly and looked dangerous, and the second lieutenant wished the vessel well away from them.

"What do you suppose Tom Newcombe is trying to do?" continued Harry, excitedly. "No boy with his senses about him would take a vessel like the Sweepstakes in there. Anyhow, we have the satisfaction of knowing that if he isn't wrecked he can't get away from us. He is penned up, cornered, caught. What shall we do with him when we capture him? Throw him overboard?"

The yacht was still bounding toward the shoals with all the speed that stiff breeze could give her, and just as Harry ceased speaking, the bluffs on the island loomed up through the darkness. The shore for two hundred yards was plainly visible, and anxious eyes examined it closely, but nothing could be seen of the schooner. The students were utterly bewildered. They looked at one another, then along the shore again, but not a sign of a sail could they discover. The pirate schooner had disappeared as completely as though she had never been in the harbor at all.

"Come about, Mr. Jackson," said Harry, as calmly as though the long line of foaming, hissing breakers before him had been a mile away, instead of almost under the vessel's bows. His mind was so fully engrossed with the mysterious disappearance of the schooner, that he could think of nothing else. Where could she have gone? was a question he asked himself more than once while the Storm King was coming about. She could not have slipped by him, dark as it was, for there had been too many pairs of sharp eyes looking out for that. She could not have gone over the island, and she might as well have tried that as to attempt the passage of the shoals. She certainly had not been dashed in pieces on the rocks, for, in that case, he would have heard the noise of the collision and the cries of the crew, and, besides, he would have seen the wreck. Harry did not know what to make of it.

"Wheeler," said he, turning to the boatswain's mate, who happened to be standing near him, "what do you think of this?"

"Well, sir," replied the young tar, touching his cap and hitching up his trowsers, "I was just wondering if it was a schooner at all. She may be a small edition of the Flying Dutchman, sir."

If Harry had been superstitious he would have thought so too. The schooner's disappearance was so mysterious, so sudden, so unexpected! Just at the moment when the crew of the Storm King were waiting for the order to board her, she had vanished, and no one could tell where she had gone. The first lieutenant knew many an old sailor who, had he been on board the yacht at that moment, would have solemnly affirmed that they had been pursuing a phantom.

CHAPTER XV.

TOM HAS ANOTHER IDEA

"Yes, sir," repeated the governor of the Crusoe band, in a tone of great satisfaction, "we're off fur our island at last. Them spooneys will never trouble you any more, cap'n. You're safe from Johnny Harding, an' I'm safe from Mr. Grimes, Bobby Jennings, an' all the rest of 'em. Hurrah fur us!"

Tom stood leaning over the schooner's rail, watching the Storm King, which was rapidly fading from his view, and thinking, not of Johnny Harding, but of the failure of his grand idea. He would not have been greatly disappointed if he had known that he should never see Crusoe's island. He had, of course, expected that when he should be comfortably settled in some remote corner of the world, far away from all the troubles and vexations that had made his life in Newport so miserable, he would realize his idea of supreme felicity; but one element in his happiness was to be the satisfaction of knowing that he had carried out his threat, and "squared yards" with every body; that he had destroyed the Storm King; that he had rendered the naval commission, in which Harry Green took so much pride and delight, perfectly useless to him, and that he had taken ample revenge upon his father and upon the principal of the military academy. With such thoughts as these to console him, Tom imagined that he would be perfectly content to pass the remainder of his days on some desert island, even in the company of such uncongenial fellows as Sam Barton and his men; but now he knew that could not be. His splendid scheme had failed. The yacht was still right side up, as swift and as handsome as ever, and as sound as a dollar, in spite of the charred and smoked wood-work in her galley. That was enough to banish all Tom's hopes of happiness. He could not enjoy a moment's peace of mind as long as the Storm King remained above water. He was a disappointed boy – an unlucky, ill-used, and unappreciated boy, too – whose life must henceforth be a desert and a blank. No more sport, no more enjoyment for him, and all because of that one unkind act of his father's.

This was the way the captain of the Crusoe band reasoned with himself as he leaned over the rail, gazing through the darkness toward the spot where he had last seen the yacht, and that was the way he would have told his story to any stranger who he thought would sympathize with him; but if such sensible fellows as Johnny Harding, Harry Green, and Bill Steele had been consulted, they would have shown Tom up in a different kind of light altogether. They would have cleared Mr. Newcombe, and placed all the blame right where it belonged – upon Tom's own shoulders. They would have described the home and surroundings of this "Boy of Bad Habits" – this "Rolling Stone" – who had gone from one thing to another in search of that which none of us find in this world – freedom from care and trouble – and would have proved that he ought to have been one of the happiest boys in Newport. They would have told that his sole object in life had been to avoid every thing that looked like work, and to establish himself in some easy, pleasant business, that would run along smoothly, without the least exertion on his part. They would have described him as a boy utterly wanting in firmness of purpose, except when he got one of his grand ideas into his head, and then he was as unreasonable and obstinate as a mule. They would have said that his numerous failures had not taught him wisdom, but had made him more determined; that he would not listen to any one's advice, and that he clung with bull-dog tenacity to his favorite belief that "nobody could teach him." And they would have come, at last, to the inevitable consequences of such a life as Tom had been leading, and told how he had been going down hill all this while, until he had at last got so low that no boy who had the least respect for himself could associate with him; that he was the leader of a band of rascals, the companion of burglars, a fugitive from justice, and one of the most miserable and despised of human beings. Tom could not help acknowledging to himself that such was his condition, but he clung to the idea that it was not his fault. His father was responsible for it all.

"If he had only given me that yacht, as he ought to have done," Tom had said to himself twenty times that night, "things would have been very different. I could have paid him back his four hundred dollars in a week or two, and after that every cent I earned would have been clear profit. But now – just look at me! I won't stand no such treatment from any body, and that's all about it."

"What's the row now, cap'n?" asked the governor.

"O, I was thinking about that yacht," drawled Tom.

"And, talkin' about her, too," returned Sam; "I heard what you said. This is a hard world, Tommy, that's a fact. The lucky ones go up, an' the onlucky ones go down. Life's nothing but luck, nohow."

"Well, if that's the case," whined Tom, "what is the use of a fellow's exerting himself at all? If it is his lot to go ahead in the world, he will, and if it isn't, he won't, and all the working and planning he can do will not better his condition in the least."

"Exactly! Sartinly! That's just my way of thinkin' to a dot; an' every thing goes to prove that I am right. Now, me an' you were born to be poor – to go down hill; an' your father was born to be rich – to go up hill. Haven't you tried hard to be somebody?"

"O, now, yes I have!"

"I know it. I never in my life saw a feller that tried harder, an' what's the reason you didn't succeed? 'Cause you are onlucky. It aint your lot to go up hill. You might work an' scheme, an' try your level best, till you are as old as your grandfather, but it wouldn't do you no arthly good, whatsomever. Now, just look at your father! He's one of the lucky ones. Every thing he touches turns to money to onct. He needn't do no work if he don't want to. He can set back on his easy chair an' read his paper, an' the cash comes pourin' in so fast that he has to hire a man to take care of it. Now, I ask, Why is it? It's his lot; that's the reason, an' he aint no better'n I be, neither. Things aint fixed right, nohow, 'cordin' to my way of thinkin'."

Tom was not overburdened with common sense, but he was not foolish enough to believe in Sam Barton's doctrine. He knew that it is the industrious, prudent, and persevering who go up hill, and the lazy and worthless who go down. He knew that his father had made many a long voyage as a common sailor, and a good many more as captain, and worked hard for years with hand and brain before he could "set back in his easy chair" and read his newspaper during business hours. But he was quite ready to agree with the governor when he said that "things were not fixed right" in this world. Tom was quite sure they were fixed wrong. He had tried so hard, and had been so certain of success! If his plans had not all failed so miserably, he would have been a happy and prosperous trader, and the owner of the finest little sloop about the village, instead of a captain in the Crusoe band. He could not see that he had made any mistakes in refusing to listen to the advice so often given him. The blame rested entirely with his father.

Tom was a very unhappy boy, and the only consolation he could find was in the thought that, by this nights work, he was severely punishing his father. Mr. Newcombe would, of course, hear all the particulars of the robbery, and of the attempted destruction of the yacht, and then he would regret that he had not paid more attention to his son's wishes. But it would be too late. The ill-used one would be miles at sea before morning, and he would never again return to Newport as long as he lived. Tom told himself that he was resolved upon that; but, after all, he did go back, and perhaps we shall see how he looked when he got there.

All this while the schooner had been bounding along the south shore of the island, headed toward the narrows. Xury was still at the wheel, Tom and the governor were standing at the head of the companion-ladder, the rest of the Crusoe men were gathered on the forecastle, and the robbers were leaning over the rail in the waist, looking down into the water, and conversing in low tones. The governor had been so busy since they came on board the schooner that he had scarcely spoken to them, but now he left Tom (who had again fallen into one of his meditative moods) to scrape an acquaintance with them. The burglars were so deeply engrossed in discussing their affairs that they did not hear the sound of Sam's footsteps, and he approached within a few feet of them without being discovered. So close was he to them, indeed, that he could catch every word of their conversation. He had not thought of playing the part of eaves-dropper, but he found that they were talking about the thousand dollars they had promised to pay the Crusoe men for taking them to sea, and something that was said brought Sam to a stand-still.

"You were not in earnest when you made that offer, were you?" he heard one of the robbers ask.

"Yes, I was. I thought there were some men in the party, and that we could afford to pay them well for passage on board their vessel; but I see they are all boys, and we can give them the money or not, just as we please."

"It would be a foolish piece of business to throw away a thousand dollars, after coming so far, and working so hard for it."

"I know that, and I don't intend to do it. They seem to understand managing a vessel pretty well, and they may succeed in taking us to a place of safety. If they do, we'll step ashore and let them whistle for their money."

"But won't they make a fuss?"

"Who cares if they do? Haven't we both got revolvers?"

"Well, now, if this yere don't beat all the world," soliloquized the governor, who could scarcely believe that he had heard aright. He stood for a moment as motionless as if he had been nailed to the deck, looking the very picture of astonishment and alarm; then he shook his head threateningly, moved quietly across to the other side, and settled into a comfortable position, to think the matter over.

Since the robbers made him that offer, the thousand dollars had never once been out of his mind. In his eyes it was an immense fortune, and he would have been willing to do almost any thing in his power to obtain possession of it. He already regarded the money as his own, and he had laid his plans for the disposal of it. He would not trust it in the hands of the treasurer of the band, but would take charge of it himself. He would invest a portion of it in weapons, fishing-tackle, clothing, powder, shot, and other articles they needed to complete their outfit, and with the remainder he would purchase provisions. He had never dreamed that the burglars would refuse to live up to their promise, but he had heard enough of their conversation to satisfy him that they would bear watching. Sam thought they were the meanest men he had ever heard of.

"I won't give up the money," said the governor, striking his fist upon the rail to give emphasis to his words; "that's just all about it. They promised to give it to me if I would take them out to sea, and they sha'n't go off this vessel till I have it in my hands. If they won't stick to their bargain, like men had oughter do, I must find some way to make 'em. Step this way a minute, skipper. What do you think them two bugglars are doin'?" he added, in a scarcely audible whisper, glancing toward his passengers, who were still leaning over the rail. "They're layin' their plans to swindle us out of our money!"