NOTWITHSTANDING his prediction that Captain Harding never would succeed in taking the vessel safely into port, Rich thought it best to prepare for action; and he lost no time in revealing to his friends the plan that had just been determined upon. There were six boys on board, including Tom, who agreed to “stand by” him, and among them was the “fighting member,” who urged Rich to take the sloop that very night. If Johnny refused to give up possession, it would, he thought, be a good opportunity to reËnact the scenes in the story of the mutiny at sea, which seemed to occupy all his thoughts. But Rich knew that Johnny’s friends were numerous, and spunky, and that if an attempt was made to take the vessel by force, the mutineers would, in all probability, get the worst of it. By following out the first mate’s idea, they could accomplish their object without danger to themselves, and so this plan was finally adopted. The malcontents were all delighted to receive their leader’s assurance that he intended to “get even” with the new captain; but they were very careful to do all their talking and planning when none of Johnny’s friends were in hearing, so that no one except those whom Rich and Tom had taken into their confidence knew what was going on.

On the second morning after Harding took command of the sloop, Rich found that his prediction would not be verified. Land was in plain view at sunrise; and, at noon, the Swallow, after coasting along the shore to find a suitable harbor, entered a little bay, and was made fast at a wharf, in front of a farm-house. Johnny’s friends all insisted that the new captain had brought them safely to their destination, while Rich and his followers affirmed that if that was Nantucket they would agree to “eat the sloop,” and perform several other impossible feats.

“What island is this?” asked Johnny, of a man who appeared at the door of the house, while the sloop was being made fast.

“Martha’s Vineyard,” was the reply.

“How far are we from Edgartown?”

“About fifteen miles by the coast, and six miles by land. But I say, boys,” continued the man, coming down to the wharf, “what boat is that?”

“The Dreadnought, from New Bedford,” answered Rich, with a wink at his companions.

“What are you doing so far from home?”

“O, just taking a sail, for the fun of the thing.”

The man, looking at the deserters with a comical expression on his face, continued:

“Perhaps that’s the truth, and then, perhaps, it isn’t. That sloop is the Swallow, and there was a tug here this morning after you. O, you can’t fool me,” he added, with a laugh, noticing that some of the boys opened their eyes, as if very much astonished. “I know all about it.”

“Jump ashore and cast off that line,” said Captain Harding, turning to one of his crew. “We had better get away from here.”

“O, you needn’t be afraid of me,” said the man. “I’m not going to trouble you. Besides, I would advise you to remain here until evening, for if you go to Edgartown now, you’ll certainly be captured.”

Some of the deserters were rather suspicious of the farmer, while others thought he looked like an “honest old chap,” and that he had no idea of attempting to detain them. However, they had nothing to fear from him, even if he proved himself to be an enemy; so, after a short consultation, they decided to remain at his wharf, at least long enough to take on board a supply of fresh water. Rich and his friends were strongly in favor of this, for they were impatient for an opportunity to put their plans into execution. After the deserters had got ashore, and talked a few moments longer with the farmer, they discovered that he was disposed to be friendly toward them, for he told them all about the intended movements of their pursuers, as far as he had been able to learn them. He said that there were no less than three steamers after them, and that the one which had left his wharf at daylight that morning, was loaded with students, who had authority from the principal of the academy to arrest the deserters wherever they found them. Some of the young soldiers had expressed the hope that they wouldn’t catch the runaways for two weeks, as they were having a jolly cruise on the tug, and wished to continue it as long as possible. The rightful captain of the Swallow was also on the tug, and, unlike the students, he was impatient to capture the deserters as soon as possible. He was astonished at the recklessness displayed by a “lot of green boys,” in putting to sea in a boat, without “knowing the first thing about seamanship or navigation,” and predicted that nothing more would ever be seen of the sloop or of her crew. The farmer then went on to say that the last exploit of the Night-hawks had caused great excitement among the citizens of Newport. The manner in which they had effected their escape from the academy astonished every one, and was the general topic of conversation. Mr. Newcombe, not being satisfied with what he had already done, was to send out two more tugs that morning; and, in all probability, the deserters would soon find the islands about Buzzard’s Bay very unsafe. After telling them this much, the farmer thought it a good opportunity to give the boys some advice. He assured the deserters that what they had done would win them no honor, and urged them to return to Newport immediately, and endeavor to make some amends for their misconduct by renewed attention to their duties.

“O, that’s played out!” exclaimed one of the boys. “If you had ever attended the military academy, you wouldn’t talk that way. We’re on the black list now, and we might as well enjoy ourselves while we can.”

This seemed to be the opinion of all the boys; and the farmer, seeing that they were determined to have their own way, made no further attempts to induce them to return to the village.

The first mate, becoming impatient at this delay, now urged Captain Harding to set the crew at work. The farmer showed them a spring, behind the house, and, armed with buckets, pans, and cups, the deserters began the work of filling the water-barrels. It was a tedious task, and while it was going on, Tom had ample time to mature his plans. He soon decided upon his course, which was communicated to Rich; and, although they were by no means certain that it would prove successful, it was the best they could think of, and, after some discussion, was adopted.

Tom soon becoming tired of carrying water, set his bucket down, and amused himself in walking about the farm. At the end of half an hour, after the casks had been filled, and the crew had returned on board the vessel—while Johnny’s friends were lounging about the deck, resting after their work, and Rich’s followers were busy in the hold, setting things in order—the third mate went aloft and took his stand on the cross-trees, to watch for the Philistines, he said, but, in reality, to signal to Tom that the time for action had arrived. In a few moments, the latter made his appearance, carrying in each hand a huge slice of water-melon, which he was devouring with great avidity. As he had expected, this instantly attracted the attention of the boys, several of whom eagerly inquired:

“Where did you get that, Newcombe?”

“Bought it off that farmer,” was the reply. “He’s got plenty more, and sells them cheap, too. You can get one as big as a bushel basket for five cents.”

“Give us a piece, Tom,” shouted one of the boys from the hold.

“O, no; I can’t,” drawled the first mate. “Go and get some for yourself.”

“Come back with us, and show us where you got it,” said another.

“O, you can find the place without me. It’s just on the other side of that corn-field. The farmer is there now. I told him that I would send you down.”

The deserters who were lounging about the deck waited to hear no more, but, springing ashore, started at the top of their speed for the farmer’s melon-patch. Rich descended to the deck with all possible speed, the boys clambered up out of the hold, and some of them even jumped upon the wharf and followed the others a short distance; but as soon as the main body of the crew had disappeared behind the house, they hastily returned to the vessel, where Tom and two of his friends were already engaged in hoisting the sails. Rich cast off the line with which the Swallow was made fast, and just as he sprang on board, the sloop moved slowly away from the wharf. Tom’s plan had worked to perfection. Johnny Harding and every one of his friends were on shore, and the seven mutineers had the vessel to themselves.

Rich took the wheel, and, as soon as the sloop had gained steerage-way, he put her about and stood out of the harbor. Of course, it required considerable time to execute all these movements, and scarcely was the Swallow fairly under way, when Johnny and several of his friends appeared, loaded with water-melons. A single glance at the vessel, standing out of the bay, under a full press of canvass, was all that was needed to convince them that they were in a very unpleasant situation. They knew that Rich, Tom, and their friends were about to desert them, and they had no difficulty in divining their motives for so doing. They gathered around their captain for a moment, as if in consultation, and then walked slowly toward the wharf. There was no shouting, no begging to be taken on board, as the mutineers had expected; but they stood looking at the sloop, as if the course her crew might see fit to follow did not interest them in the least.

“Ah ha, Harding!” shouted Rich, as the Swallow dashed by the wharf. “Who’s captain now? I told you that you wouldn’t make any thing by acting mean toward me. You may stay there now until you are captured, or get a chance to go back to Newport.”

“Good-by, fellows,” shouted Miller, waving his hat to the boys on the wharf. “You were afraid to trust Captain Rich, so we thought it best to leave you on shore, where you would be safe.”

None of Johnny’s friends made any reply, for they were well aware that remonstrance would be useless. They knew that Rich always took a fiendish pleasure in revenging an injury, and, knowing that he deemed himself insulted, as well as abused, by being relieved of the command, they did not think it at all probable that he would allow so good an opportunity to punish them for what they had done slip by unimproved. They were not at all surprised at the action he had taken. Their only wonder was, that they had been foolish enough to trust him.

At this moment, the sloop rounded a point at the entrance of the harbor, and a sight met the gaze of her crew that astonished and alarmed them. Coming straight into the bay, at full speed, was one of Mr. Newcombe’s fast tugs, and so close was she to the runaways, that all attempts at escape seemed useless. The Swallow was caught at last. So thought Captain Rich, and so thought the boys on the wharf, who could not refrain from shouting with delight when they discovered that the voyage, which their treacherous companions had expected to enjoy, was likely to be brought to a speedy termination. The forecastle of the tug was crowded with students, and, among them, the deserters saw the lieutenant-colonel. The captain of the tug was at the wheel, and, as soon as he discovered the sloop, he rang the bell to “stop,” and then to “back,” at the same time turning the steamer’s bow toward the Swallow, as if it was his intention to run along-side of her.

“How are you, Newcombe?” exclaimed the colonel, flourishing a paper which was, doubtless, his “warrant” for the apprehension of the deserters. “You, and the rest of your party, may consider yourselves prisoners.”

Rich was desperate. The Swallow’s capture seemed inevitable; and, had all the deserters been on board, it is probable that he would not have thought of escape. But he and his friends had seized the sloop with the intention of having a cruise on their own hook; and he thought how all the boys they had left behind would laugh at them if they failed! They would consider it conclusive evidence that Rich was not fit to be captain. While the latter was wondering what he should do, the tug continued to approach the sloop slowly, and presently a man stepped upon her bow and began to use a lead-line. This suggested an idea to Rich, and he was prompt to act upon it. When he first discovered the tug, he had thrown the sloop up into the wind, but now he filled away again, and, putting the helm down, ran across the steamer’s bows, almost grazing her as the Swallow went by.

“How are you now, Colonel Smith?” shouted Rich, as he shaped the sloop’s course toward the beach, where he knew the tug could not follow her. “We’ll not consider ourselves prisoners just yet, if you please.”

“Hold on with that boat, Rich!” exclaimed the colonel, who began to be afraid that his prisoners might escape him after all. “We’ve got orders to take you back to the academy, and we intend to do it.”

“All right!” replied Miller; “but it is always a good plan to catch your man before you hang him. Come on with your steamboat. We’re ready for a race.”

But the tug could not “come on.” She followed the sloop as close to the shore as her captain dared to go, and then backed out into the middle of the bay. Here she stopped, and the Swallow’s crew could see that her captain and the colonel were holding a council of war. Finally the bell rang again, and the tug went along-side the wharf, to take on the boys who had been left behind, and who, knowing that their cruise was at an end, surrendered at discretion.

“Didn’t I fool them nicely?” exclaimed Captain Rich. “That was a sharp trick, I take it!”

“O, yes it was,” drawled Tom; “but it won’t do us any good. We’re caught easy enough.”

“Not yet,” replied Miller. “We’ll keep in close to the beach until night, and then we can give them the slip. We are not foolish enough to think of giving them a fair race; so we’ll stay in shoal water, where they can’t reach us.”

Captain Rich approved this plan, and, undoubtedly, it was the only one that could have been adopted under the circumstances. Tom then proposed that, in case they were successful in their attempts to evade their pursuers, they should return to Newport without waiting to be taken back; but the others would not listen to this. They were resolved that they would not go back to the village voluntarily, until they had had a two-weeks’ cruise. If the principal desired their presence at the academy before that time, he must capture them.

“There comes the tug again!” said one of the crew, suddenly.

“And she’s got three boats with her,” drawled Tom. “I know it’s all up with us now!”

When Captain Rich saw the boats that dragged at the stern of the tug, he was obliged to confess to himself that affairs looked rather dubious again. The Swallow was under the lee of the island, where she had just breeze enough to keep her moving through the water, but not enough to enable her to run away from the boats. He had been in hopes that the tug would blockade them until night, or that she might attempt to run in nearer to the beach and get aground, in which case he could easily effect his escape. He found, however, that he had to deal with those who were as smart as himself.

When the tug came abreast of the sloop, she stopped. The students manned the boats, and commenced pulling toward the Swallow, evidently with the intention of boarding her. The runaways watched these movements in alarm, and finally gathered about their captain, advising him to go along-side the tug and surrender, without any farther delay. The lieutenant-colonel, they said, had authority from the principal to arrest them, and they would only get themselves into trouble by opposing him.

“I won’t do it,” said Rich, decidedly. “We can’t be in any worse fix than we are now, and, as long as I see the least chance for escape, I’m going to hold out. When the colonel comes on board, we’ll tell him that if he wants the ship, he can take her. He can’t manage her, and I don’t believe there’s a boy on board who can. If we can only delay them until dark, we shall be all right.”

But the runaways did not have an opportunity to put this plan into execution, for, as the boats approached, they discovered that one of them was under the charge of Mr. Hudson. This took all the backbone out of them, for, however much they might have felt disposed to refuse to yield obedience to the commands of the lieutenant-colonel, they did not dare to resist the teacher. So, when the boats came within speaking distance, and Mr. Hudson sternly ordered Rich to take the Swallow along-side the tug, he promptly obeyed. At this moment there was not one among the deserters who did not heartily wish that he had never had any thing to do with Tom Newcombe or his “grand idea.” If they had all remained at the academy, even though they had failed in their examination, they would simply have been denied the privilege of going into camp with the others, but now they would be obliged to endure some terrible punishment. And it was the uncertainty of what that punishment would be, that troubled them more than any thing else. Had they been sure of a whipping, they would have braced up their nerves, prepared to “take it like men,” and congratulated themselves that it would soon be over with. But that was not the principal’s way of dealing with such characters. He had a faculty of making a student, who had been guilty of misconduct, feel indescribably mean and little; and the runaways were certain that, theirs being an extraordinary case, something new would be invented for their express benefit.

“Newcombe, I wish I had never seen you, or heard of your society!” exclaimed Martin. “It’s all your fault.”

“O, now, it isn’t, either,” drawled Tom. “You are all just as much to blame as I am.”

“I can’t see it,” said another. “If we once get out of this scrape, we’ll steer clear of you in future.”

By this time the runaways had been marched on board the tug, the sloop was manned by some of the crew of the steamer, who were detailed for that duty, and both vessels shaped their course toward Newport. Rich and his companions felt particularly sheepish. They could not look Johnny or his friends in the face, for they knew they had treated them in a way they would not like to have been treated themselves. Johnny, however, did not seem to feel very badly about it, for, as Rich stepped on board the tug, he said, with a laugh:

“Well, captain, your cruise didn’t last long!”

“You deserters are not half the sailors I thought you were,” said one of the students. “I hoped that you would lead us a long race. We have had a splendid time following you, and I had much rather spend my vacation at sea than in camp.”

The students asked the runaways innumerable questions about the manner in which they had effected their escape from the academy; inquired how they had enjoyed themselves, and what had been the cause of the mutiny, (for Johnny had explained why he and his friends had been left on the wharf,) to all of which the deserters replied in as few words as possible. They were thinking of the court-martial, the guard-house, and extra duty, and did not feel at all inclined to talk.

On the following morning, the tug arrived at Newport. As soon as it became know that the runaways had been captured, the wharf was crowded with people, and the culprits found themselves the “observed of all observers.” Tom saw his father standing on the wharf, but he felt so ashamed of what he had done, that he could not raise his eyes to his face. As soon as the tug had landed, Johnny Harding and his three friends made the best of their way homeward, while those that belonged to the institute were placed under arrest and marched through the village, like prisoners of war. When they arrived at the academy, they were met by the principal, who ordered them, not to the guard-house, but into the school-room, where the lessons of the day were pointed out to them, and in five minutes more the runaways were at work at their books, as if nothing had happened. On the second day, all the students who had been in pursuit of the deserters returned and the work at the academy was resumed and carried on as usual. Three days after that, the examination was completed, and, when the result was announced, Tom had the satisfaction of seeing the eagles he had coveted placed on the shoulders of Bill Steele, the adjutant Colonel Smith, and a few of the older students, had finished the course at the academy, and were to enter college. As for Tom and his fellow-conspirators, they were left so far behind that they were heartily ashamed of themselves. The next day, the much-dreaded court-martial was convened. During the process of the examination, the part each of the students had borne in the conspiracy was brought to light, and the secret workings of the society of Night-hawks were developed. Then came the sentence. Tom, being the prime mover in the affair, was ordered to do “extra duty” for two months, and the others for one month. The grand commander drew a long breath of relief, for he was prepared for something terrible; but the others all looked blank, for they understood the meaning of the sentence.

When the business of the court had been concluded, the successful students made preparations for going into camp; and, in order that the runaways might know how much they had lost by their misconduct, they were permitted to witness their departure. The lieutenant-colonel, major, and adjutant had been provided with horses; and when the battalion, accompanied by its baggage-train, moved out of the grounds, it looked like a little army on the march. As soon as it was out of sight, the runaways, and a few others who had failed in their examinations, were ordered into the school-room, and Tom soon found that “extra duty” was something not to be despised. He was kept busy at work all the time; he was constantly under the eye of his teacher, who promptly took him to task for the least violation of the rules, and before a week had passed, he had been fully convinced that “the way of the transgressor is hard,” and had made repeated resolutions, that as long as he remained at the academy, the principal would never again have occasion to put him on “extra duty.”

Here we will leave him for the present, working out the punishment brought on by his own misdeeds, and repenting, at his leisure, the folly of which he had been guilty, and go back to our old friend Bob Jennings, the fisher-boy, of whom we have for some time lost sight, but whom we have not forgotten. Of Bob’s life and character, his trials, disappointments, and final success, we shall have something to say in “Go Ahead; or, the Fisher-boy’s Motto.”

THE END.

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