The Border Boys Along the St. Lawrence

Both were warm in their praises of the way the boys had handled the situation, and waxed humorous over their practical arrest as suspects. Percy and Harry, however, failed to see anything screamingly comical about it.

The dock was reached and then and there the party received a big surprise.

The lights of the River Swallow were not in sight!

So far as could be observed, no boat lay at anchor where the boys had left the speedy craft.

A search conducted from the motor tender only confirmed their worst fears. The River Swallow had vanished, and on board her was Ralph, alone and in the power of the gem smugglers.

CHAPTER XXIV

IN THE GRIP OF THE STORM

Ziz-z-z-z-z-z!

A ragged, flaming bolt of lightning ripped across the black sky. It showed the broad reach of the St. Lawrence in the vicinity of Piquetville lashed into a fury of white-capped waves and turbulent waters.

Through the furious electric storm the River Swallow was wallowing along, rolling and plunging terrifically. Owing to her narrow beam, the craft was far more “cranky” than an ordinary boat, and to anyone not used to her actions in rough water, the experience would have been an alarming one. Besides being familiar with the craft he was guiding, however, Ralph had other things to worry him beside the storm.

For one thing, La Rue, – or Hawke, as Ralph still knew him, – was standing beside him, pistol in hand, and from what Ralph knew of the man, there was little doubt that he would hesitate to use the weapon if the need arose. The boy had another cause for worry in the fact that he did not know what his companions, who had gone ashore, would think of the disappearance of the River Swallow. He knew that they would be worrying over his situation on board her, and the thought of their anxiety disquieted him to the full as much as his own predicament.

But, with it all, Ralph had a certain grim satisfaction in one factor of his problem. Below decks in a bunk, with a badly damaged head, incurred in his fall down the steps leading from the bridge, lay Malvin. The man was incapacitated for duty and was, in fact, only half conscious. As he had fallen from the bridge, it was La Rue who had seized Ralph’s arms before the boy could sound the alarm, and who had ordered Ralph, upon the pain of being shot down, to steer the River Swallow out of the harbor. The young skipper had no recourse but to obey, and so the River Swallow was struggling with the storm, with an inexperienced man – Hansen – in the engine room and on the bridge a boy who was menaced with a pistol in the hands of the diamond smuggler.

With the storm had arisen a wind that screeched and howled like a witches’ carnival about the River Swallow. The craft was rather high out of the water and of light draught, like most of the St. Lawrence River craft. She pitched and rolled awesomely under the blast. There was no real danger, as Ralph well knew, but, as has been said, to anyone unused to her violent motions in a storm, the wild behavior of the River Swallow was, to say the least, alarming.

To complicate matters, it was pitchy dark, the frequent flashes of lightning alone illumining the gloom. The wind was blowing the same way as the current, and below them lay a labyrinth of rapids, shoals and islands that required an experienced skipper to thread, even by daylight.

“This is a fine fix,” thought Ralph to himself, as the wind tore about him, the waters rolled high and the lightning flashed and zigzagged across the thunder-ridden sky. “If I ever get the River Swallow through this without piling her up on a shoal or getting the bottom ripped out of her in some rapids, I’m entitled to a gold medal.”

“Will this get worse?” asked La Rue.

The boy noted with glee that there was a note of apprehension in the fellow’s voice.

“I hope not,” Ralph rejoined, shaking his head fearsomely.

“Why?” La Rue was scared. It was plain enough in his voice, which was nervous and jerky. “Are – are we in any danger?” he demanded tremblingly.

“The – the very g-g-g-greatest,” exclaimed Ralph, cleverly acting the part of a seriously alarmed young skipper.

“You mean that if the storm does not die down we may be wrecked?”

“The storm will get a lot worse before it gets any better,” rejoined Ralph. “This is one of the worst nights I have ever seen on the river.”

The River Swallow gave a fearful roll, almost burying her lee gunwale in flying spume. An exclamation that was almost a shriek burst from La Rue’s lips. The man was ashen pale. He was terrified, and, moreover, he was becoming conscious of another feeling. What this was, we shall see before long.

“Gracious! I thought we were gone that time!” cried Ralph, appearing to be on the verge of panic.

“Then there is a pup-pup-possibility that the boat may capsize?”

“I shouldn’t wonder,” said Ralph gravely.

A groan escaped La Rue.

“You really think that, ker-ker-captain?”

Ralph couldn’t help smiling at the title La Rue had conferred on him in his fawning, miserable fright.

“Of course I do,” replied Ralph. “Why, her timbers are very thin. She was only built for a racing machine, not for such work as this.”

Bang! Who-o-o-o-f!

A big sea, which Ralph had purposely met quartering, smote the River Swallow a terrific buffet on the port bow. The spray and spume flew high in the air, drenching the occupants of the bridge.

“A few more of those and we’re goners, sure,” said Ralph with a grin, which he had to turn away his face to conceal, as La Rue broke into a whimper.

“Isn’t there anything you can do, captain?”

“Nothing, except trust to Providence that we don’t go to the bottom within the next half hour,” rejoined Ralph.

Another huge wave hit the craft. A tremor ran through her but it was nothing to the anguish that convulsed the terrified La Rue as the sea struck.

He was now a ghastly blending of two hues, a pasty yellow, a greenish white.

Biff! Bang! Another buffeting blow. Skipper Ralph was actually beginning to enjoy himself.

“Oh-h-h-h! Ah-h-h-h!” quivered the frightened wretch at his elbow.

“Hadn’t you better hand me that pistol?” asked Ralph sweetly. “You might shoot yourself, you know.”

A groan was the only response from La Rue. The man was abject, disgusting in his cravenness.

But Ralph had no mercy upon him.

“It’s getting worse,” he said positively.

“Wer-wer-worse!”

“That’s what. I did think for a while that we might weather it. I know different now. Hawke, we have not much longer to live.”

“Der-der-der-do you mer-mer-mer-mean that we are ger-ger-going to be d-d-d-drowned?” stuttered La Rue, clasping his hands.

“Brace up! Don’t be a coward! Face drowning like a man, Hawke!”

And skipper Ralph contrived it so that another big wave came racing and rolling over the River Swallow’s sharp bow. It was the last straw. La Rue went to pieces utterly.

CHAPTER XXV

LA RUE’S WILD LEAP

“Aren’t there any life preservers on board?” he wailed piteously.

His tones might have stirred a heart of flint. Ralph actually felt sorry for the fellow, wretch as he knew him to be. But the thought of the revolver that had been so recently pressed against him, and the threats with which he had been overwhelmed, steeled him against compassion.

“Life preservers? I don’t believe there are, Hawke,” he said. “You see, the boat was to be equipped with a new type of preserver and the old ones were all sent ashore some days ago. They have not yet been replaced by new ones.”

“I’d give a thousand dollars for a life preserver right now!” cried Hawke. “I am rich. I could reward anyone who would save my life.”

Ralph’s strategy had worked. The fellow was in abject fear of his life by this time. He was firmly convinced that the River Swallow was doomed to be annihilated.

Another big wave slapped the craft on the bow, sending a shower of spray high over her.

“Oh, Lord!” groaned La Rue. “I thought sure we were gone that time, Captain Stetson.”

“For shame! Be a man, Hawke. Is there anything you want to save?”

“Oh, gracious, are we going down?”

“I don’t know. As I said before, I think it very likely.”

“We’ll be food for fishes this time to-morrow! Oh-h-h-h-h-h!”

The River Swallow gave a giddy, sidewise plunge. At the same moment a flash of lightning illumined the tossing water. It was Ralph’s turn to give a gasp of dismay. The flash had revealed, down the river, a big, black object that he knew must be an island.

The wind and the current were carrying them down stream.

“Wow!” exclaimed Ralph to himself. “There may be more truth than poetry in Hawke’s fears. If we ever hit – ”

He did not dare to complete the sentence even to himself. The thought was too horrible. In his mind’s eye he could see, as clearly as in a nightmare, the breaking up of the River Swallow on the rocky shore of an island.

“You-you asked me if there was anything I wanted to save?”

It was La Rue’s scared, trembling voice again.

“Yes; get what you can, Hawke. But don’t let it be anything bulky. If you don’t want to be dragged down, take only your most valuable possessions.”

“My most valuable possessions! Oh, gracious!”

“What’s the matter now?”

“Oh, I feel seasick. I have a fearful attack of mal-de-mer.”

“Fight it off,” advised Ralph. “This is no time to be seasick. In a short time you may need all your strength.”

With another hollow groan the unhappy wretch dived below to carry out Ralph’s advice about saving his valuables. It was not long before he appeared on deck once more, staggering and moaning in a piteous manner to himself.

This time a flash of lightning gave Ralph an opportunity to observe that La Rue carried a slender black leather wallet, which he clasped as if it were something as precious to him as life itself. In the glare of the lightning, the man’s face was as white as chalk and his eyes blazed with a weird, unnatural light.

In spite of his momentary impulse of pity for the man, Ralph felt a wave of disgust for such a helpless craven sweep over him, as he watched him stagger up the steps to the bridge.

“Do you think there is a chance to save my life?” he stuttered out as he gained Ralph’s side.

“Impossible to say,” was the reply. “But see here, Hawke, you appear to think only of yourself. Haven’t you any concern for your companions below?”

“Never mind them,” cried La Rue, beside himself with fear by this time, for the storm had reached the height of its fury; “they are only understrappers, both of them. Do you see this case?” he continued wildly.

The man’s actions and speech were such that Ralph thought that fright must have turned the fellow’s head.

“Yes, what of it?” demanded Ralph, as he eyed the wallet the man was flourishing under his nose.

“Look!”

He opened the case. In the light of another vivid flash, Ralph saw within the case a transparent pane of talc. Under this thin covering gleamed something that made Ralph’s head swim as he gazed.

The flash had revealed to his astounded gaze a fortune in gems. White, red and green, they mirrored back the lightning with blinding radiance.

“Gems!” gasped the boy.

“Yes, gems,” rejoined Hawke, his face livid as another brilliant flash revealed every line of his features and his wild, staring, frightened eyes; “gems worth two hundred thousand dollars. If you save my life, I will see that you are well rewarded.”

In the now almost incessant glare of the lightning, Ralph’s eyelids flickered. But it was the brilliance of the gems held out almost under his nose by his terrified passenger that made him wink, far more than the electrical display.

“Goodness! They’re enough to blind a fellow,” he exclaimed to himself as he eyed the heap of precious stones.

“But what good are those gems to you in comparison with your life, Hawke?” demanded Ralph.

“None! none!” wailed the wretch abjectly. “I’d give ’em all to you, Captain Stetson, if you’d save my life. But they are not mine to give. I am simply an agent for others.”

“A gem smuggler, in fact?” demanded Ralph sternly.

“Yes; that’s what you might call it. Oh, captain, I have led a bad life! I’d like to repent before I die.”

“You are in the employ of several men engaged in the business of evading duties on precious stones?” remorselessly pursued Ralph.

“Yes, sir. Oh! but I repent all my wickedness now. I’d give all these gems for even ten minutes of life. I – ”

He broke off. An appalling flash of lightning pierced the sky, followed by a peal of thunder that rent the heavens. Even Ralph quailed before such a terrific upheaval of the elements. As for La Rue, he sank to his knees on the bridge.

“The gems! the gems for my life!” he implored, his eyes raised skyward.

He was still in the midst of a half-insane tirade, when the River Swallow struck with a quivering shock.

“It is the end!” screamed out La Rue, his voice ringing above the uproar of the storm.

Before Ralph could stop him, he had rushed to the side of the bridge; and then, with a wild cry, he plunged straight overboard into the boiling, angry waters that swept alongside.

CHAPTER XXVI

LOOKING FOR THEIR CHUM

We left Harry Ware, Percy Simmons and the three customs inspectors sadly baffled on the dock of the Piquetville Yacht Club. Their search for the River Swallow, it will be recalled, had revealed nothing of the craft. Several inquiries made in the vicinity had met with the same disheartening results.

Sick at heart and worried more than they cared to confess, Harry and Percy listened to the consultation going on between the three experienced servants of Uncle Sam’s revenue service.

“If that fellow La Rue is on board, there is no telling what may have happened,” said Jennings. “He is a desperate man, as we have good cause to know.”

“But he is a coward at heart,” struck in Adams. “Remember how he showed the white feather in that affair of the Chinese smuggling three years ago?”

“Yes, he secured immunity from punishment by turning state’s evidence on his accomplices,” rejoined Jennings. “It was too bad he was allowed to go. There’ll always be plenty of work for us as long as he is at large.”

“It’s odd, the way he’s managed to slip through the toils so many times,” commented Prescott, the third customs man. “Why, the government has had its hands upon him half a dozen times, and yet he has always managed to get away in some mysterious manner.”

“There’s one member of the bunch, though, that I’d rather get than all the rest,” declared Jennings.

“Who is that?”

“Rawson.”

“The captain of that night-running motor boat?” inquired Prescott, who had been but recently transferred to the northern border after commendable work in the southwest.

“That’s the fellow. I see you’ve heard of that boat.”

“Who hasn’t? Even these young men encountered her on several occasions. She has been seen in the vicinity of Dexter Island. I assume that Malvin, who was in the employ of Mr. Stetson, received consignments of gems to be smuggled later.”

“That appears certain. But did you say Stetson was the name of the owner of the island?” inquired Prescott.

“Yes, Stetson, the big railroad man. It’s his son Ralph that is on board the River Swallow in the power of those men.”

“The same Ralph Stetson that was mixed up in that affair of the arms and ammunition, smuggled across the Mexican border by the underground river?”

“The same fellow,” broke in Harry.

“Then depend upon it, young men, that your chum will be able to take care of himself,” assured Prescott. “I heard full details of that affair, and the way in which he and his friend Jack Merrill acquitted themselves, showed that they were made of no ordinary stuff. I’d back that boy against a dozen La Rues any time.”

“The way in which they have all handled this affair so far proves that they are a bunch of uncommonly smart lads,” said Jennings. “If it hadn’t been for a slip-up, we might have had La Rue in our hands by this time.”

Agitated though they were, Harry and Percy could hardly conceal a smile at this ingenious way of putting the case. Had it not been for Jennings’ stupidity in arresting them – for that is practically what he had done – the customs authorities might have reached the River Swallow in plenty of time to apprehend the rascals on board and save Ralph from being carried off. For that he had gone of his own free will never entered the chums’ heads for an instant. They knew Ralph too well to think that he would desert them in such a way, unless he had been literally abducted.

It was this fact that worried them. It pointed inevitably to one conclusion: Ralph had been overpowered by the men on board the craft, and either injured or made captive, while they worked out whatever schemes they had in mind.

“Oh! if only one of us had stayed on board, it would have made the odds less against good old Ralph,” sighed Harry.

But it was too late to indulge in regrets. The harm was done now. Somewhere on the river the River Swallow was speeding along with their chum on board her. They wondered when, and under what circumstances, they would hear from him again, for that they would join him before long they had no doubt.

Great drops of rain began to fall. A puff of warm wind blew from off the river into their faces.

“Here she comes,” declared Jennings, as a flash split the sky. “Boys, we’d better get to shelter.”

“Can’t we do anything more to-night?” asked Harry anxiously.

“I’m afraid not, my boy. I know just how you feel about your chum, but it would be worse than looking for a needle in a haystack to go chasing after that boat to-night.”

“What do you recommend doing, then?” asked Harry.

“I would suggest that you find quarters in a good hotel. Have a sound sleep, and early in the morning we will join you and the hunt will begin in earnest. One other thing,” as he noticed their troubled faces, “don’t worry about that fellow La Rue. He is a big bluff, an arrant coward. His bark is a lot worse than his bite. He wouldn’t dare try any violence. He’s a mixture of knave and craven, with the former predominating.”

How true this description of La Rue was we know from his behavior during the storm, which shortly broke in all its fury. While Ralph was battling with the elements, his chums were snugly in bed at the Piquetville House. Despite their anxieties, they were too worn out not to fall into a sound sleep, which endured till a loud knocking at their door, almost as soon as it was light, informed them that the customs men were below.

They lost no time in dressing, and soon joined the others. They all ate a hearty breakfast together, and then set out for the dock. It was a glorious morning. All trace of the storm had vanished, leaving the air clear and cool.

At the Yacht Club dock lay the River Swallow’s tender. A few minutes’ delay occurred while the little craft was stocked up with extra gasoline, for they knew that they might be off on a long chase. But at last everything was ready. Harry took the wheel. Percy Simmons looked after the engine. The three customs men sat at their ease in the stern seat.

“Which way?” asked Harry, as they chugged out into the stream.

“Down the river,” was the reply of Jennings. “We’ll comb the islands first.”

“Let her out,” ordered Harry to Percy Simmons, as they got clear of the dock.

The engine gave a sputter and a roar, and the chase after their missing chum was on.

CHAPTER XXVII

A DAZZLING DISCOVERY

With La Rue’s cry still ringing in his ears, Ralph rushed to the edge of the bridge and peered over. Alongside nothing could be seen but swirling, rushing foam.

But suddenly a flash revealed to Ralph the fact that they had run aground on the point of either an island or the mainland, he could not, for the time being, determine which. Trees and rocks could be made out by the frequent flashes, which showed, also, that the River Swallow had grounded bow on, and was now swinging outward with the current.

Ralph was recalled from his observations by a voice behind him. It was Hansen, the Norwegian. The man had stopped his engines, being seaman enough to know what had occurred as soon as he felt the grinding shock of the landing.

“We bane gone ashore, sare?” he asked.

“Yes, we’ve grounded, Hansen, and I must tell you that your wretch of a master Hawke, while crazed with fright, threw himself overboard. I fear he is lost forever.”

The Norwegian appeared dazed. His fishy blue eyes rolled wildly.

“La Rue bane dade?” he muttered.

“I don’t know anything about La Rue,” said Ralph, thinking the man had not rightly understood him, “I said Hawke had gone. He jumped overboard when we struck. Crazy from fright, I guess.”

“He bane all de same,” said the Norwegian calmly. “Hawke bane La Rue, La Rue bane Hawke. I bane glad he gone.”

“Glad, why?” exclaimed Ralph, horrified at the man’s callousness.

“He bane bad man. He say if I don’t do as he say he lose me mine yob. By yiminy, I got wife and childrens by mine home in Norvay. I no vant lose yob. So I do as he say.”

“What did he make you do?” asked Ralph, too interested for the minute to remember anything but what the man was saying.

“He bane make me take package off motor boat what come by Daxter Island by night. I have to give package to Malvin. Dey say dey bane smoggler and kill me if I talk.”

He sank his voice low.

“Dey bane make me halp Hawke while he put sand by carburetors.”

“So it was Hawke, or La Rue, that played that rascally trick!” cried Ralph.

“Sure. He bane hidden forvard. Dey hear you mean tell police about dem. Den dey cook up plan so you no get avay.”

“The precious scamp! – but, well, he’s gone now. Hansen, you must come below and help me get Malvin on deck. Is he conscious, do you know?”

“He bane sit up when I come trou’ cabin from angine room,” said the man.

“Very well, then. We must get him up here. The boat is hard aground and may be going to break up. We must get ashore.”

“How we do dat?”

“We must swim for it. I’ll try the water and see how deep it is.”

The lead line showed, to Ralph’s great joy, that the water alongside was not beyond his depth. Both Hansen and Malvin were tall men. With good luck, it might be possible to wade ashore. It was while he was heaving up the lead that he noticed a dark object lying on the bridge, right where La Rue had taken his crazed leap.

He picked it up. It was La Rue’s coat. He had cast it off when he took his mad plunge.

As he handled the garment, Ralph suddenly felt a hard, oblong object in one of the pockets. It felt like a case. He plunged his hand into the pocket and drew out – the leather wallet that contained the priceless collection of gems!

What a find!

The boy’s head swam. La Rue, in the desperation of terror, had entirely forgotten the fortune in precious stones. Hastily Ralph thrust the wallet into his pocket.

“You bane find something,” came a voice behind him. Hansen’s voice. Had the Norwegian seen anything? Ralph by no means trusted the man, and he didn’t like the idea of his knowing of the great find.

“It was La Rue’s watch,” he said; “he left it in his coat. Now let us go below and get Malvin on deck.”

“I’ll spare you that trouble,” came a voice behind them both.

They turned and faced Malvin himself. His head was bandaged. His face chalky white.

“Well, you got the upper hand of me,” he said, addressing Ralph, “but I bear no malice. Are we all going to the bottom?”

The man’s cool, calm demeanor offered an odd contrast to the cowardly behavior of La Rue. He appeared to have resigned himself to whatever fate was to be his.

“Better a grave in the river than a long sentence in a Federal penitentiary,” he muttered.

Ralph did not hear this. His mind was concerned with saving their lives. But, like a true boat captain, he still had a feeling that he owed a strong duty to the River Swallow.

“Before we go we must get out stern lines and fasten to them the spare anchors,” he declared. “The boat is riding easily now. If we can keep her stern swung out we may still be able to get her off when the storm dies down.”