  The boathook, flashing down with all Terry’s muscular strength, landed heavily on Frank’s shoulder, causing the little man to drop back into the boat with a sharp cry. But with Benito he was not so fortunate. While Terry was busy with the smaller man the leader of the men had flung a rope loosely over the stern rail of the sloop and was even now springing aboard. Before Terry could raise the boathook again the powerful man had thrown his arms about the boy. “No use to struggle, bub,” he grumbled. “We’ve got you.” Encouraged by the success Benito had met with, Frank scrambled on the deck, casting an ugly look at Terry. As for the boy himself, he suddenly felt sick and disgusted. He had been left with the sloop in his care, and now he had allowed the men to creep up alongside in the darkness. Deep down in his heart he knew that resistance was useless, but he still struggled. “Look here, young fellow—” began Benito when the sloop heeled over slightly as a sudden weight was added to the starboard side. Terry, twisting in Benito’s grasp, found Jim standing behind him, a boathook in his hand. For a moment the two outlaws, thinking that Jim was alone, started toward him, Benito dragging Terry. But as Terry began to kick and squirm Captain Blow leaped on deck. The old man looked the picture of fury as he bore down on the two men from the other side of the island. Jim, springing at Frank, just missed him with a swing of the boathook, and the little man, uttering a howl of terror, rolled off the deck and splashed into the water. Benito, seeing the grim look in the captain’s eyes, attempted to let go of the boy, but Terry, realizing that he was to be captured, in turn held on to him. Captain Blow’s haste spoiled the whole scheme. Like a battering ram the captain’s knotted old fist caught the bandit on the side of the head, knocking him clean overboard. Without touching the low rail or any portion of the sloop Benito simply flew in a back dive into the water. “Get him!” yelled Jim, “don’t let him get away!” Frank had succeeded in climbing into the rowboat and was rowing swiftly to where Benito was bobbing around in the water. As they watched the leader climbed into the boat, and they started to row rapidly for the island. “We’ll get ’em in the dory,” Captain Blow said shortly. “Hop in, you two.” Terry and Jim piled into the dory without loss of speed and the captain started the engine. The little boat ran around the Lassie and then started in toward the shore. “Oh, shucks!” snorted the captain. “I wish we’d thought to bring a flashlight along. My boat’s got no light on it. We’ll sort of have to feel our way along after them fellows.” It was not too much like feeling, for the captain had a remarkably sharp pair of eyes, but although they patrolled up and down the shore for a good half hour they saw no signs of the two men in the rowboat. “Must have headed right in to the shore,” Jim suggested. “Yes,” the captain agreed. “Probably hiding in some black creek right now, where we’d never find ’em in a year of Sundays. Well, I suppose we go back now.” “Aren’t you going to the house to get Don?” Jim cried. The captain shook his head and headed the dory out to sea. “Nope, sorry to say. It wouldn’t be the sensible thing to do just now. Somebody has got to stay aboard the ship to watch her, and those fellows might come out again. Besides, we’d have a mean job finding the house in the dark and we couldn’t get in and roam around. Anyhow, you said your brother had escaped, so he may be somewhere on the island, just waiting for daylight.” “I hope so,” Jim muttered. “But we’ll go ashore in the morning, won’t we?” “Don’t you hang any doubts on that!” the captain declared, with emphasis. “We’ll just land all troops and clean up that place in fine style!” They boarded the Lassie again, where Jim told Terry of his adventures of the last few hours. Terry was very much pleased with Jim’s new find, Captain Blow. On his part, the old sailor was much impressed with the boys. “You’re real shipshape lads,” he declared, warmly. “None of these softy loafers. I must say you keep this little boat in first class order. I’ve sailed in some worse rattletraps than this, in my time. Galloping smelts! there goes my fool tongue again. I mean I’ve sailed in some ships in my time that was rattletraps, not that your boat is one. Good thing my boats don’t navigate like my tongue.” Hope that Don had managed to get away from the island house safely in some measure eased the minds of the two boys, and they ate some food. The captain asked to look at their barometer and frowned at it, but said nothing. In another hour, as they sat on the deck, a moaning breeze began to blow through the halyards of the sloop, and it began to rock with increasing force. “In for bad weather,” growled the captain. His words were scarcely out of his mouth before a violent gale swept over them, and the fury of the storm was on. Shouting to them to get below the captain forced his way to the bow to examine the anchor cable. Presently he dropped through the hatchway, soaking wet from head to foot from the flying spray. “If it gets any worse we’ll have to weigh anchor and scoot,” he reported. “That baby hawser is getting quite a strain on it.” For the next half hour the sloop rocked without stopping, and the three sat and talked in low tones. Each time a wave hit the little ship it jerked roughly at the anchor cable. Finally, shaking his shaggy head, the captain got up. “Turn your power on,” he ordered Jim. “We’ve got to get that mud-hook up. If we don’t the cable’ll bust in two and then we’ll be bouncing all over the ocean.” While Jim turned on the power the captain scrambled outside to pull up the anchor. Even under full power the Lassie made little headway, only enough to slack up the strain on the taut cable. Bending double in the raging storm the old sea captain slowly and painfully cranked up the hand windlass. Reluctantly, the anchor came up. Immediately the captain flew to the tiller, for, once released of the controlling power of the anchor the sloop bucked and rolled like a thing alive. Jim shut off the power and the boys looked out of the companionway, which was opened on a crack, at the captain, where he sat holding the sloop firmly on its course. “What shall we do now?” Jim shouted to the skipper. “Toss me out a good oilskin and then go to bed,” he returned, looking through narrowed eyes at the huge waves that rolled around them. Terry handed him a suit of oilskins. “We don’t want to go to bed, sir,” he said. “Too much excitement.” The captain slapped his knee. “Excitement, by golly! What kind of sailors do you two calculate to be? Don’t you know a real jack tar don’t let anything bother his sleep but the sinkin’ of the ship! And answer me this: either of you ever try to hold a small vessel in line in a blow?” The boys shook their heads. The captain chuckled. “If you tried this tonight, you’d be flappin’ back and forth in the breeze like a shirt on a line. Get into bed and get some sleep!” “Aye, aye, sir!” laughed Jim. He and Terry climbed into their bunks, but for a time found sleep impossible. “My gosh!” gasped Terry. “I was never in a bed that threw you up in the air like this.” Finally, however, almost worn out by the events of the day, the boys went to sleep, to wake up several hours later. They sprang up and opened the companionway slide, to find that they were far from the island. The wind had gone down and the stalwart old captain still sat at the tiller. “Good morning, Captain Blow,” nodded Jim. “I feel guilty to have slept while you sat here on this wet deck all night with the tiller.” “I do, too,” agreed Terry. “Pull in your sail!” ordered the captain, good-naturedly. “It didn’t hurt me any. We’re a considerable spell further out than we were yesterday, ain’t we?” “Yes,” Jim agreed, anxiously. “Can we get back?” The captain tossed his oilskins aside. “We sure can. We’re about three miles off of that island now. The water’s running pretty heavy right now, but put on the power anyway. We’ve got to get back to that island.” The sloop was soon under full power, headed back toward the low island. The captain surrendered the tiller to Jim and went below to make coffee, which warmed them and buoyed up their spirits. It took them more than an hour to run back to the island, but at the end of that time they dropped anchor in the cove, where the dinghy had been placed on the sands. But there was no dinghy there now, and Jim was worried. “Let’s hope Don didn’t take to the dinghy and was lost in the storm,” he said. But the captain shook his head. “Don’t believe it,” he declared, stoutly. “Well, here is where we raid that nest in the woods. Only this time I suggest that Jim stays on the ship, and you, Terry, come with me.” “Can’t we all go?” Jim cried. “Nope. I’d like you to stay here, while Terry and me see what we can stir up in that place.” So Jim was left alone to pace restlessly around the deck of the Lassie while the other two, in the captain’s dory, went ashore. He watched them land and then settled himself to wait. Terry and the captain took the path and soon reached the old house. It looked every bit as deserted as it ever had, but the captain wasted no time in wondering. He marched up the shaking front steps, raised his foot, and kicked the door off its hinges. With a roar the door flew into the damp hall. “Nobody can say I didn’t knock!” he grinned. Both of them had armed themselves with heavy sticks, although Terry was sure that the captain had something cold and steel in an inside pocket, something which reassured him, but which he hoped the captain would not have to use. They were now in a large hall, off which ran a number of rooms. A winding staircase ran to the floor above, and on a turn in it they saw a large old redwood clock. “A grandfather clock,” breathed Terry. “Sure! See the whiskers on it!” Terry laughed. “Those are cobwebs,” he said. The captain moved away in the direction of another room, but the red-headed boy remained where he was, looking up the stairs. “Come on,” ordered the captain, impatiently, “What are you standing there for? Your feet sprouting lead?” “No,” answered Terry slowly. “But I do think I just saw that grandfather clock move, Captain Blow!” |
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