THE MAN HIGHER UP
The menace of the shot under her stern, while intended to bring-to the small boat, had the effect of overaweing the strange sub chaser also. As Jack at the tiller, with four men bending to the oars and making the boat sweep through the water at a tremendous rate, passed close astern, he was half fearful a demonstration would be made against them. Nothing of the sort occurred, however, and not even a curious pair of eyes stared at them from the rail.
This was to be accounted for partly by the fact that, immediately after launching and sending away Jack’s boat, Lieutenant Summers dropped another overside from the davits, and, accompanied by Captain Folsom, headed directly for the ladder of the strange sub chaser, which was down. And those aboard had eyes only for him.
At the last minute, just as he was about to enter his boat, he saw Frank and Bob watching him longingly from the rail. He smiled. 218
“Want to come along?”
Did they? The two chums tumbled down the ladder and into the boat so quickly that the invitation was barely uttered when they already occupied seats.
“Let us have a pair of oars, sir,” said Bob, “for we can row, and otherwise, if you brought other oarsmen in, we would be in the way.”
“Very well,” consented Lieutenant Summers. However, he detailed two sailors to take the other pair of oars.
The boat bearing the boarding party drew up at the floating stage and quickly Lieutenant Summers bounded over the rail, followed by Captain Folsom, Bob and Frank, and the two sailors. The boys drew up in rank with the latter, while the two leaders advanced a few steps. Nearly a score in number, the crew of the strange sub chaser were grouped at the foot of the bridge. None coming forward, Lieutenant Summers said sharply:
“Lieutenant Summers, U. S. N., come aboard. Who commands here?”
There was no response. Instead, a struggle seemed to be going on within the group, as if one of its members were trying to escape and the others were restraining him. At a sign from Lieutenant Summers, the sailors loosed the automatics swinging in 219 holsters about their waists, and prepared for trouble.
“We’d stand a fine chance of getting shot without being able to talk back,” whispered Frank to Bob. “Neither of us armed.”
“Huh,” Bob replied, out of the side of his mouth. “I’d grab me somebody’s gun.”
The flurry, however, was short-lived. Suddenly, a shrinking figure was expelled from the group of men, as if shot from a cannon’s mouth. The searchlight from the Nark was playing full upon the scene.
“There’s your man,” cried a voice, from the group. “Tryin’ to hide, he was.”
The man looked up, fear and defiance in his features. He was Higginbotham.
“Ah,” cried Captain Folsom, sharply, taking a step forward, “so it is you.”
Higginbotham looked about desperately, as if seeking a way of escape. But he was cut off at the rail by the guard from the Nark and the boys, while the others had swung about him in a half-circle, barring the way. Seeing an attempt to flee would be futile, he pulled himself together, not without dignity, and faced Captain Folsom and Lieutenant Summers. It was to the former that he addressed himself.
“You’ve caught me,” he said. “The game is up.” 220
He folded his arms.
“What does this mean?” demanded Lieutenant Summers, taking a hand in the proceedings. “Captain, who is this man?”
“That fellow Higginbotham, about whom I told you,” said Captain Folsom in an aside. “The man who escaped from the Brownell place.”
“Ah.” Lieutenant Summers saw the light. He addressed Higginbotham sternly:
“You and your men, masquerading in the uniforms of officers and sailors of the U. S. N.,” he said. “You will pay heavily for this, my man. Such masquerade is severely punished by the government.”
Higginbotham started to reply, but Frank had an idea. Not waiting to hear what the other had to say, he impulsively stepped forward and plucked Captain Folsom’s sleeve.
“That man is trying to delay us, Captain,” he whispered. “I am sure of it. He wants the men in the small boat to escape. I’ll bet, sir,” he said excitedly, “that whoever is in that boat is the Man Higher Up whom you are so anxious to capture.”
Captain Folsom was struck by the cogency of Frank’s reasoning. Signing to him to fall back, he whispered to Lieutenant Summers. The latter listened, then nodded. He stood silent a moment, thinking. 221
“I have it,” he said. “We’ll call another boat from the Nark to go to the assistance of young Hampton.”
Placing a whistle to his lips, he blew a shrill blast. A hail came from Jackson, second in command of the Nark, at once. Lieutenant Summers ordered his assistant to come aboard with four men. Waiting the arrival of the other boat, Frank and Bob grew fidgetty and spoke in whispers, while the two officers questioned Higginbotham in low voices.
“All right,” said Frank to Bob, “I’ll ask him.”
Approaching the officers, he stood where Captain Folsom’s eyes fell upon him, and the latter, seeing he wanted a word with him, stepped aside.
“Captain,” said Frank, eagerly, “Bob and I feel that we have got to go to help Jack. Can’t you persuade Lieutenant Summers to let us accompany the party?”
The other smiled slightly, then once more whispered to Lieutenant Summers. The latter looked at Frank, and nodded. Frank fell back to Bob’s side, content.
They had not long to wait, before the boat bearing Jackson and four men from the Nark nosed up to their own craft at the landing stage, and Jackson reported to his commander on deck.
“Jackson,” Lieutenant Summers said to his young petty officer, “I want you to take command here with 222 your four men. Disarm these fellows. I do not believe they will show trouble, but it will be well to let them know right at the start that the Nark has them under her guns. I am going to young Hampton’s assistance.”
Jackson saluted, and called his men aboard. Without more ado, Lieutenant Summers, who was in haste to be off, turned to descend to the boat when once more Frank halted him:
“We are unarmed, Lieutenant,” he said.
“Ah. Just a moment. Jackson!”
“Yes, sir.”
“I shall order these men to give up their weapons. Stand ready, and keep them covered. Now, my men,” he added, addressing the crew; “I am going to place you under arrest. I want you to advance one at a time and submit to being searched and disarmed. I warn you to submit without resistance, for if you do not, the Nark yonder has orders to open fire, and you cannot escape. Now, one at a time.”
Sullenly, unwillingly, but overawed, the men advanced. While the sailors from the Nark kept their automatics in their hands, ready for action, Jackson searched each man in businesslike fashion. The weapons thus taken away—regulation automatics, as well as a miscellaneous assortment of brass knuckles and a few wicked daggers, all marking the men as city 223 toughs—were placed in a heap. Before the work had been completed, Lieutenant Summers, anxious to depart, signed to the boys to arm themselves. They complied.
“Now, let us go,” said he.
The boys and their two young sailor companions tumbled into the outside boat, while Captain Folsom and Lieutenant Summers delayed for another word with Jackson. Then, they, too, descended. The oars dipped, and the boat sped away.
All this had taken only a very short space of time. However, the boat bearing the fugitives no longer could be seen, although that carrying Jack—or, at least, what they took to be his boat—was still offshore, though close to it. It looked like a little dark blot some distance ahead, nearing the landward base of the peninsula. On that horn of land, all felt assured, the fugitives had landed, and along it were making their way to shore.
Jack’s boat now reached the shore. Lieutenant Summers, gazing through the nightglass, spied Jack and his quartette leap to land. Then he searched the spit of land through the glass. An exclamation broke from him.
“Young Hampton is just in time,” he said. “I can see three figures running along the peninsula 224 towards him. Pull your hardest, lads, and we shall soon be up with them.”
The two sailors and Bob and Frank bent to the oars with a will, and the boat fairly leaped through the water. Their backs were towards the land and they could not see the development of events, but Lieutenant Summers, realizing, perhaps, the anxiety of the chums for their comrade, gave them occasional bulletins. Jack and his party had taken cover, apparently, for they could no longer be seen. Lieutenant Summers was of the opinion, however, that their presence was known to the enemy. It could not well have been otherwise, as the latter must have seen Jack’s manœuvre to cut them off.
Suddenly a half dozen shots rang out.
“Pull your best lads. Almost there,” cried Lieutenant Summers, who was in the bow. “Now. One more big pull and we’ll be up on the sand.”
There was a soft jar. The boat’s nose tilted upwards. Then, disregarding footgear, all leaped overside into the shallow water, and six pairs of hands ran the boat well up on the sand.
“This way,” cried Lieutenant Summers, dashing ahead.
The others followed on the run. No further shots had been fired. But the sounds of panting men engaged body to body in the brush came to them. 225 As he ran, Lieutenant Summers cast the rays of a powerful hand light ahead. Right at the edge of the trees the two parties were engaged. But the fugitives were outnumbered, five to three, and, as the reinforcements against them arrived, the struggle came abruptly to an end.
The first upon whom Lieutenant Summer’s light fell was Jack, astride a form. Then the light fell on the fallen man’s features and a cry broke from Bob’s lips.
“Why, it’s Mr. McKay.”