CHAPTER XVI
TED WILSON'S VICTIM
A shout arose from the eager crew as they perceived the success which had crowned their desperate efforts, but an answering shout from the men in the two approaching barges quickly recalled them to the necessity for further and immediate action. Why it was that the guns of the gunboats had remained silent they could not understand, but there was no time now for investigations. It was sufficient that they had not been molested thus far; and as the leader at once gave the command for them to resume their labors with their oars, the men at once responded and gave way together, the supply boat still being towed.
The whaleboat had been built for speed, and was long, narrow, and light. Had it not been for the laden supply boat, which as yet they were not willing to abandon, they would easily and speedily have drawn away from the pursuing barges. As it was, they swept forward swiftly, and apparently were almost holding their own in the race.
For several minutes the desperate efforts of the men continued. The heavy clouds had gathered in the sky, and the blaze of the sun had disappeared. The air was sultry and oppressive, and the unusual calm which rested over the waters indicated that the storm which had been threatening was fast approaching. No one glanced at the heavens, however, the set and streaming faces indicating that the immediate task in hand was sufficient of itself to occupy all their thoughts.
On and on rowed the men, and on and on swept the pursuing barges. Less than a quarter of a mile lay between them, and, heavily laden as the supply boat was, it materially decreased the speed which otherwise the whaleboat might have made. The moments passed, but the efforts were not relaxed. Together, the long oars struck the water, and the bodies of the men swayed back and forth as if they were controlled by a common impulse. The distance between the boats was not materially changed, although if any change was to be seen it was in favor of the barges.
"This will never do," said the leader at last, letting his oar go, and rising in his seat as he spoke. "Here, you men," he added, grasping his gun and facing the prisoners in the other boat as he spoke, "it's time for you to work your passage. Take those oars and pull your prettiest! Four oars are better than one, and I can do more with a gun than I can by pulling. Take your oars, every one of you, and the first one to drop will be fired on!"
The four men in the supply boat sullenly obeyed, and the increased impulse of their efforts at once became manifest. The leader stood in the stern of the whaleboat facing the prisoners, and watchful of their every movement. His words of encouragement served to inspire his companions, and for a time it appeared as if they were gaining upon their pursuers.
Still, the distance between them did not materially increase, and such efforts as the men were then making could not be long maintained. Indeed, signs of distress were already becoming apparent, and Little Peter felt every time he drew in his oar as if he had not strength enough left to pull another stroke. His face betrayed the pain he was suffering, but his condition was not much worse than that of some of the other men with him in the boat.
The exciting contest could not be continued much longer, and as the leader glanced about the boat he almost decided to cut the rope which held the supply boat, and, leaving that behind, seek safety in flight.
He had drawn his knife from his pocket, and was standing ready to free them from their heavy load, when the rain began to fall. In a moment the wind swept down upon them, and the storm was at hand.
Prom the first of the pursuing barges came a shot, but no damage was done, and the leader muttered, "That's all right. It's a farewell salute you're giving us. You might as well say good-by to us, for I take it you'll never see us again."
The waves were now rising, and the rain was falling in torrents. Between them and the shore it almost seemed as if a cloud intervened, so heavy was the downpour. The voice of the leader could hardly be heard by his men. The deep-toned thunder sounded almost continuously, and the darting lightning appeared to be all about them. In escaping from one peril they had encountered another.
The barges could now no longer be seen, and, with the passing of the fear of pursuit, the men gave all their attention to their efforts to keep the whaleboat out of the trough of the rolling waves. Still, the supply boat was not cut loose, for the determined men were resolved to hold to that so long as it lay within their power to do so.
For a half hour the shower continued, and although much water was shipped, and the men were compelled to bail the boats, they behaved well. When at last the storm had passed and the low mutterings of the thunder sounded far out to sea, they all looked keenly behind them to discover the whereabouts of their pursuers.
Neither of the barges was to be seen. Doubtless, with the approach of the shower, they had both put back to the gunboats for safety. The whaleboat had weathered the storm, and the supply boat was still safely in tow.
Drenched though the men were, new strength seemed to come with the knowledge that they were no longer being pursued, and then, relieved of their fear, they continued on their way down the shore.
They frequently stopped for rest and to scan the waters behind them, but no boat could anywhere be seen. Nor was any one to be discerned upon the beach. Doubtless the men from Refugee Town had fled for safety and shelter, or, as the leader grimly said, "They were afraid of being wet, for water was something to which all the men assembled there were strongly opposed."
For mile after mile they held steadily to their course, even their excitement apparently having mostly disappeared. The supply boat contained guns and ammunition, and if there was anything of which the militia stood in need, it was of that very commodity.
At first it was thought that they would put in at the entrance to Shark River, but it was soon decided to continue on their way until they should come to Manasquan Inlet, and then go up the river to a place where some of their friends were to be found. To gain Tom's River they would be compelled to keep on to Barnegat Inlet, and then retrace their way up Barnegat Bay, to the place where the river entered; and as that would require a voyage of thirty miles more, no one regretted the change in the plan.
They were all nearly worn out by their exertions, and no one knew what British vessel might be met before they could gain the shelter of Tom's River.
Little Peter, in spite of his eagerness to go on to the place where he hoped to learn something concerning his father, was so weary from the work of the day, and as he had not tasted food since early that morning, he rejoiced with the others when at last the boats turned into Manasquan Inlet and began to make their way up the little stream.
The sun was now low in the western sky, and the night would soon be upon them. The shadows already were lengthening when the two boats passed out of the inlet into the waters of the river. The leader, however, had not yet given the word to rest on their oars, and Little Peter did not know where they were to pass the night.
The whaleboat kept steadily on in its course, and the wearied men were still pulling at the oars. The river was becoming narrower now, and more than one was hoping that the word would soon be given for them to land.
Suddenly, the leader called to his men, and, standing erect, pointed excitedly to a place on the shore not far in advance of them. His companions quickly looked in that direction and saw on the little point of land, around which the river swept in its course, two men standing in the water. But what was it they were doing? One of them was holding the other and frequently forcing his head beneath the surface of the river. He would hold him in that position for a moment and then lift him upon his feet again, and shake him, much as a dog might have done with a rabbit. Apparently neither had observed the approaching boats, nor had either uttered a sound which the men in the whaleboat could hear.
"The fellow's drowning him!" said the leader excitedly. "He's drowning him. Give way, men, and we'll lend a hand."
The men, no less excited than their leader, instantly responded, and the boats dashed rapidly forward. The eyes of all were fixed upon the two men before them, and the leader shouted and called; but apparently, unmindful of their approach, the strange actions continued. The larger of the two men again and again forced the head of his companion under the water, and then would lift him up and repeat the shaking. So thoroughly intent was he upon his strange occupation, that he did not once heed the hail, or even glance toward the whaleboat.
Nearer and nearer swept the boats, and finally, when they were almost upon him, the man ceased his efforts and glanced coolly up at the approaching men, still, however, retaining his grasp on his victim, who apparently was helpless in his hands.
A startled exclamation escaped Little Peter's lips when he saw that the smaller of the men was none other than his own neighbor, Benzeor Osburn. "Help him! Help him!" he said excitedly to the leader. "It's Benzeor! It's Benzeor Osburn! He's my neighbor! He's being drowned! He'll be killed!"
"Be still!" said the leader roughly. "It's Ted Wilson that's got him. Ted knows what he's doing. What's the trouble, Ted? What's gone wrong?" he added quickly, addressing the man who still held Benzeor tightly in his grasp.
The huge man slowly turned his head as he heard himself addressed, and Little Peter thought he never before had seen such an expression of rage upon any human countenance. His great muscular arms were bare, and his entire body seemed to express the marvelous strength he possessed. Benzeor was not struggling, and indeed there seemed to be but little hope of protecting himself from the powerful man whose prisoner he was.
Little Peter could see that, although Benzeor was almost breathless, he had recognized him, but he made no effort to speak and scarcely glanced at the men before him.
"What's wrong, Ted?" repeated the leader. "What's the matter with the man?"
"The matter isn't with the man, it's with me," said Ted slowly, speaking in a deep, gruff voice, which betrayed the strong feeling under which he labored.
"You're not going to drown him, are you?"
"Naw—though the snake deserves it. Drownin' is too good for such as he!"
Ted had not moved from his position, and still was standing up to his waist in the water.
"Tell us about it. Maybe we can help you a bit."
"Naw, ye can't help any. It's my business. I don't mind tellin' ye how it came about, though. This forenoon I sold some corn and stuff up here at the mill, and got my pay in coin, too. Well, this fellow was there and he saw me get paid off, and I half suspected the reptile from the way he looked at me when he saw me take the money. Here you!" he quickly added, as Benzeor struggled slightly. "Ye want some more, do ye? Well, I'll give ye all ye want and all ye need, too," and again he thrust the helpless Benzeor's head beneath the water.
"Let him up. You'll drown him!" said the leader, when Ted had held his victim several seconds under the water.
"It's no more than he deserves," replied the huge man, nevertheless lifting his victim and shaking him again. "Now will ye keep still?"
As Benzeor was unable to reply, Ted again turned to the men in the boat and said, "Well, I took that money home and gave it to Sallie. She's my wife, ye know, and I always gives her what money I get, not that it's ever very much, though. I didn't ferget the eyes o' this fellow, however, and I told Sallie,—she's my wife, ye know, and as likely a woman as there is in Old Monmouth, if I do say it as ought not to,—I told her to keep a good lookout for the pine robbers, fer I had a kind of a suspicion this here reptile might know where they was, and might get word to 'em, too.
"I took my axe and went off down into my swamp-lot to cut some wood, and left Sallie up in the house. Sallie's my wife, ye know. I felt uneasy like all the time, but I worked on for three hours or more, but I kept a-gettin' uneasier and uneasier, and, finally, I just couldn't stand it any longer and put straight fer the house.
"'Twas mighty lucky I did, too, I'm tellin' you, fer when I came in sight o' the house,—ye can see it up there now," and Ted pointed to his home, a short distance up the bank, giving the unfortunate Benzeor an additional shake as he did so,—"I see somethin' was wrong. There was three or four men a-standin' out by the big maple in front o' my house, and the minit I looked I see what they was up to. Somebody was a hangin' from a bedcord they'd threw over a limb o' that very maple-tree.
"Mebbe ye know how I felt when I see it was my Sallie; she's my wife, ye know. They was a-drawin' her up and then lettin' her down, and I knew then they was tryin' to make her own up where that money was. I had my axe in my hands, and when I see what they was up to, I didn't wait very long, I'm tellin' ye. I cut Sallie loose,—she wasn't very much hurt; she's my wife, ye know,—and then I took after the rascals. They scattered in every direction, but this vermin started for the river and I after him."
"You got him, I see."
"Did I get him? Let him answer for hisself."
And the angry Ted again shook the helpless Benzeor until the men wondered that his trembling limbs still held together.