FOR PIRACY ON THE HIGH SEAS.
The boys hastened down to the campfire and quickly extinguished it, much to the disgust of Jimmie, who had begun the preparation of an elaborate meal—at least as elaborate as could be gotten together out of tin cans.
This precaution taken, the Manhattan was towed into the mouth of the little creek and climbers and creepers drawn over her until no one would have suspected her presence there. The engine was not set in motion in making this change because of the danger from the explosions.
All this accomplished, Ned and Pat climbed back to the shelf of rock and again looked out over the mysterious China Sea. There were the two lights, one to the west and one to the north. They were closer to the island than before, however, and the light up toward Formosa was drawing to the south rapidly.
"They are going to meet here, all right," Pat said, "and I'll go apples to snowballs that they've got arms for the insurrectos. The manager of this enterprise never let all those chiefs get away from that other island without signing the treaty, and now he's sneaking in guns to help them out."
The boys discussed the situation for some moments, the lights coming nearer with astonishing rapidity. At length another light showed away to the south and west, but not such a light as the others.
It was not high up in the air, like the others, and directly it seemed to divide itself into half a dozen points. Its progress toward the island seemed to be even faster than that of the others.
"That's a steamer," Ned said, after a long look through his glass.
"The other lights are on steamers, too," Pat replied. "No wind-jammer could make the time, in this calm, that those boats are making."
While the boys looked the lights went out, or appeared to, and there was only the glimmer of the unfamiliar constellations of the heavens over the China Sea.
"That's strange!"
Pat turned to Ned and grasped him by the arm.
"What do you make of it?" he continued.
"That may be a signal," was the reply.
"If it is, the glims will show again directly."
"They may," was the reply.
But the lights did not show again, and, after waiting for an hour or more, the boys started back to the camp. Half way down, the dull, reverberating boom of a cannon came to their ears, over the water.
"What does that mean?" asked Pat.
"It may be the gunboat Jimmie insisted would be sent for me," smiled Ned.
"You don't really think that?"
"Hardly," was the reply, "but I don't know what to make of it."
"Perhaps it was a command for the other ships to show their lights," Pat suggested.
"I hope Uncle Sam is becoming wise to the game that is being played down here," Ned said, "and has sent a gunboat to look into it."
"That's it!" cried Pat. "That's just it! If she doesn't pass the ships in the dark there'll be something doing here."
The dull boom of the gun came again, and, far out, the low lights of the gunboat showed above the water. She seemed to be passing swiftly to the north.
"She's going to pass us, all right!" Pat cried. "Now, what did she make that noise for? To warn the ships that she was coming, and to get out of the way?"
"There's some good reason," Ned replied.
In a moment a searchlight shot out from the gunboat and prowled over the sea. The boys could see it moving about, but could not see that it picked up the ships which had previously shown the lights. One of the vessels, it appeared, was too far to the south and the other too far to the north to be reached by the traveling rays from the gunboat.
"She's slowing down!" Pat cried, in a moment. "She's going to search the islands. Glory be!"
"You may not want to meet her people, after you find out what they want," said Ned. "Remember that battle with the Filipinos back there."
"I'm willing to take chances with them," was the reply.
The boys now hastened back to camp and Ned passed on to the creek where the Manhattan lay in hiding.
"Jimmie," he said, turning to face that young gentleman, "do you remember whether those rockets we bought at Manila were put on board?"
"Sure they were!" was the reply. "Want 'em?"
Ned replied that he did, and the boy went prospecting in the lockers of the boat.
"Got 'em!" he cried presently.
"Do you know how to send them off?" asked Ned.
"Do I? Well, if you'd ever seen me bossin' the fireworks at Tompkins Square, in little old N. Y., I guess you wouldn't ask that!"
Just then Jack came blundering along through the brush and half fell into the boat.
"You'd make a fine scout!" Jimmie said. "You move through the thickets with the stealth and grace of an elephant!"
"What's that firing about?" asked Jack, paying no attention to the boy and facing Ned anxiously, his face only half seen in the semi-darkness.
"That is what I want you to find out," was the reply. "I want you and Jimmie to put the boat in running condition, everything ready for a spurt of speed. And I want you to remain here in the boat, ready to shoot out in a second."
"All right! That's easy."
"You may have to wait a long time," Ned went on, "and you may have to go inside of five minutes. When you go, muffle the engine as much as possible, but run like the Old Nick was after you—run for the gunboat out there!"
"They'll pinch me!" wailed Jimmie.
"And when you get to the gunboat," Ned continued, "tell the officer in charge that Nestor is a prisoner on this island, and that the insurrectos are about to land guns and ammunition here."
"You a prisoner!" Jack echoed. "What's the use of lying about it?"
"I shall be a prisoner by the time you reach the gunboat," Ned said, coolly—as calmly as if he had been announcing that he would be taking his supper at that time.
"If you go in the Manhattan," Jack said, "you won't be a prisoner here."
"But I've got to stay here," Ned said, "and besides, the boat must not be loaded down. She may have to make a hot run for the gunboat."
"I don't know what you're up to," Jack said, doubtfully, "but I guess you do, so I'll do just as you say."
"What about the rockets?" asked Jimmie.
"They are to be used in signaling the gunboat," Ned replied. "She may be a long ways off when you get out there."
When the boys at the camp had finished their supper, eaten in the darkness, and watched the sea for signs of the ships for half an hour, they started toward the boat. Then another shot came over the water, followed by two more, fired in quick succession. Ned joined them instantly, for, following the shots, the rattle of sailing gear and the thud-thud of boxes or boards on a deck echoed over the sea.
"One of the ships is close in," Ned said. "Now we'll see if the owners are unloading missionaries here!"
The vessel close in looked like an old-fashioned top-sail schooner; still there was an engine and a propeller. She was a three-master, and looked, in the uncertain light, as if she had been in service in the East for a long time.
She glided into the harbor between the Tusks as if she knew every inch of the channel, and brought up close to a flat surface of rock on one of the Tusks, which formed a natural pier. Then the hatches were opened, and shaded lanterns gleamed about the deck.
Ned glanced back over the mountain, and was astonished at seeing a green signal light there, almost at the top. The men on the schooner saw the signal, too, for Ned could see them pointing at it, could hear them laughing as if a great point had been gained.
"Wonder why we didn't see that?" asked Frank. "It must have been there when the lights showed from the ships."
"We didn't go up high enough, or it might not have been there when we were looking," was the reply.
"Well," Frank said, then, "if we didn't see the chap who is tending that light on the mountain, he must have seen us; or if he didn't see us he must have heard the engine of the Manhattan doing her talking stunt."
"Probably," replied Ned.
The matter was more serious than his manner indicated, for he turned quickly and walked toward the Manhattan, calling out softly to Pat as he did so. There was no answer for a moment, and then it came in the shape of a dozen pistol shots.
Ned dropped down behind a clump of bushes and waited for an instant, resolved to know what was going on at the boat before advancing. Then the boys from the camp came running up, asking questions, and all made a rush for the boat.
When they came within sight of the spot where she lay, they saw that she was moving out into the bay, and that Pat was standing by the engine whirling the fly-wheel. On the shore were a score of Filipinos, standing with guns turned toward the boat.
The boys saw Ned and Frank spring forward, saw them hesitate an instant, and then drop to the ground. The Manhattan swung out into the bay with engines snapping and propeller churning the smooth waters.
"Whoop—ee!" shouted Pat from the deck.
"Got her off all right!" shouted Jimmie. "Nobody hurt!"
"Straight to the Northwest," shouted Ned, "and keep your rockets going!"
"I wish we had been able to get on board," Frank said, regretfully, as the Manhattan showed a clean pair of heels out of the bay. "I saw Jack on her."
"The boys on board have their instructions," Ned said, "and now we may as well be getting out of range of these little brown men! If Pat and the others hadn't been on their guard the boat would have been captured."
The moon was rising now, almost at full, and brought the natives, standing on the beach, out in full relief. They were well armed, and seemed very angry at the turn matters had taken. They had evidently been sent out to capture the boat, and were not pleased at the report they would now be obliged to make.
They stood looking out at the fast receding boat for only a moment before opening fire on her. Directly, however, the Manhattan was out of range, and then they turned their attention to Ned's party, which, being hidden by the thicket, might not have been discovered at that time only for the instructions shouted out by Ned as the boat slid away.
Knowing that he would be between two fires if a battle opened, Ned made no show of resistance when the natives approached him with leveled guns. There was a great bustle between the Tusks now, showing that the cargo of the schooner, whatever it was, was being landed, and it was natural to suppose that there existed an understanding between the crew and the men on the island.
"Don't try to shoot!" a voice said in good English. "My men have you covered."
"Who are you?" asked Ned, not much surprised, after what had taken place, to find the party officered by an American.
"An officer in the United States army," was the unexpected reply.
"Then what are you doing all this shooting for?" demanded Frank. "Why did you molest the Manhattan, here on government service?"
"We'll see about the service she is on later," replied the officer. "Beat it for the harbor, all of you."
When the party reached the Tusks the crew of the schooner was busy unloading long pine boxes which looked as if they contained shovels and hoes, and seemed to be very heavy. The second vessel, the one which had been observed in the north, lay close in.
"Where's the officer in charge?" asked Ned, as they approached a group standing at the head of the harbor.
The officer who had captured the boys pointed out a tall, rather fine-looking man who was standing, pencil and paper in hand, checking off the boxes as they crashed down on the beach.
"There he is," was the information given. "Lieutenant Carstens, and a mighty good man at that!"
The Filipino boy stepped forward, as if anticipating a friendly greeting and then drew back in confusion. Lieutenant Carstens had looked him fairly in the face and had not recognized him.
Ned did not step forward to present his side of the case to the man pointed out to him, for there was no need to do so. The man was the one he had met in the tea house in Yokohama, in the Street of a Thousand Steps.
"Go on and give him a talk," Frank said, as Ned drew back.
"There is not a bit of use," Ned replied. "The man is a crook, and is not acting for the government here."
"Then why these vessels?" asked Frank. "He must be a good deal of a wise crook if be sails about with a fleet like that."
"I rather think he is a good deal of a wise crook," Ned replied. "He's the man whom Jimmie saw mixing with the rebel chiefs."
"But look here," Frank insisted, "look at the blue coats unloading the boxes. They are in the service, for sure. This Lieutenant Carstens may be a crook, but he has a command in the United States navy, all right."
One of the men who was assisting the Lieutenant in the tally now called his attention to the prisoners and the Filipino boy standing by their side. He listened for a moment to what was said to him, then motioned for the Filipino boy to approach. The two talked for a moment in Spanish, and then the boy, evidently much against his will, was sent on board the ship.
In a few moments the Lieutenant turned to Ned, a smile of victory on his lips.
"Well," he said, "your career as a pirate has been brought to a sudden close."
"What do you mean by that?" demanded Ned.
The question was a natural one, but was entirely unnecessary, for the boy knew what was meant—knew on what desperate chance the lives of himself and his friends rested.
"I mean," answered the Lieutenant, "that you are under arrest for piracy on the high seas. Also for deliberate murder. Also for the larceny of the Manhattan from Manila."
"Very well," Ned replied, coolly, "take me back to Manila for trial. I am willing to go with you."
"We don't take pirates back to Manila for trial," was the sneering reply. "We give them a hearing and shoot them down on the spot. I'll attend to your case directly."
"You've got your nerve!" cried Frank.
The Lieutenant turned with a snarl and pointed the end of his pencil toward the two boys.
"Put them in irons," he said. "We'll give them a drum-head when we get the goods out of the Clara and will shoot them at midnight."
The boys made no resistance. That would have been useless, for there were twenty to one against them.
"And," continued the officer, "send for the relatives of the natives this man Nestor murdered on Banta Isle. We'll have them for witnesses."
"They attacked me," Ned said, in a second sorry that he had spoken at all.
"They were ordered to recover the Manhattan, property stolen from the government," was the reply, "and you resisted them. Put a stick in his mouth, Ben, if he talks any more."
Ben, a muscular, scar-faced fellow of thirty, stepped forward and took a seat on the rock near the captives. He had the mild, soft eyes of a student of theology and the square jaw and hard hands of a prize fighter.
"You're to keep your face closed—see?" he said, nudging Ned in the side with an elbow. "You're to keep your clapper tied," he went on, "or I'll tie it up for you. And how in the name of the Seven Seas did you ever get in such a scrape, Ned Nestor?"
The last words were spoken very softly, but before that Ned had recognized the man as one he had known and liked on the water front in New York.
"You're in a bad box," Ben went on, "for that slob means business."
"There's just one chance for us," Ned whispered. "If the rockets are all right, and the gunboat is not too far away to see the signals!"