CHAPTER II.—A “FRIENDLY” CAPTAIN.
After the departure of Alex and Case, Clay and Jule continued their efforts to get the motor into working order. In the meantime, however, they kept a sharp lookout for the approach of some boat which might possibly supply them with what they needed.
However, they had little hope of relief from any river craft.
“There must be some towns along the river, below the bend,” Jule insisted. “The boys will find some sort of place where motor supplies are sold.”
“If they do,” Clay answered, “I hope they’ll bring a whole pocketful of spark plugs.”
“And I hope they’ll bring back a dozen squirrels, and six rabbits, and a coon, and a ’possum!” Jule laughed. “Here we’ve been on this river all the way down from Pittsburg, and haven’t had any wild game yet! I’ve eaten fish until I believe there are fins growing on my toes.”
“There’s a large motor boat coming down,” Clay said, pointing up stream. “Perhaps we can get what we want by going aboard.”
“Looks like a pretty decent sort of a craft,” Jule suggested.
“It looks to me like a store-boat, anyhow,” Clay went on.
“Then we’ll give ’em a hail!”
The call from the Rambler was answered immediately, and a large-sized motor boat turned in toward the Kentucky shore. The name “Hawk” was discernible on the prow as she came slowly on.
“What idiot named a sailing vessel after a bird?” asked Jule.
“She may be a bird, at that,” decided Clay. “She looks as if she could go some, anyway.”
“Hello, the boat!” now came from the Hawk.
“Have you got motor supplies?” Clay called back.
“What kind of supplies?”
“Spark plugs,” was the answer.
“Come on board and we’ll fit you out.”
“That’s the talk!” Jule shouted.
“Where are you bound for?” called out a man on the deck of the Hawk.
“Just down the river,” Clay answered.
The man who had been speaking from the freight deck of the Hawk now turned away and conversed for a moment with two men who had been listening to the conversation. As the fellow talked, he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, significantly, at the Rambler.
“I don’t like the looks of this!” Clay declared.
“Then let’s cut it out,” replied Jule.
“We can’t very well cut it out!” Clay exclaimed. “They probably know we’re tied up here with a disabled motor. If they are the kind of people we fear they are, they’ll come and get us anyway. I wish Alex and Case were here.”
“Shall we stay here and shoot if they attempt to board us?” asked Jule, the light of battle flaming in his usually merry eyes.
Clay thought hard for a moment and then turned back to the cabin for his automatic, which he took good care to keep out of sight.
“Are you coming aboard?” the man shouted from the Hawk.
“We haven’t any boat,” Clay replied. “Our friends have gone hunting on shore.”
“We’ll fix that all right,” was called back, and in a moment a rowboat rounded the stern of the Hawk and made its way rapidly to the Rambler. The boys watched the appearance of the boat with premonitions of danger. The two rowers looked like veritable river pirates.
“Pile in!” shouted one of the men gruffly as he held on to the anchor-chain of the motor boat. “Hustle yourselves in here, and I’ll have you over to the Hawk in a minute.”
Motioning to Jule to remain where he was, Clay dropped into the rowboat and told the man to pull away.
“Isn’t your friend coming?” one of the rowers asked.
“We can’t leave the boat alone,” was the reply. “Why, we’ll be right here alongside,” urged the other.
As he spoke he lifted a hairy, repulsive face toward the Rambler and shouted:
“Come on, lad, the captain is fixing up a treat for you boys!”
“I’ve got to stay on board,” Jule answered.
“Oh, come along,” ordered the other, almost angrily.
“Pull away,” Clay advised, “we never leave the boat alone, night or day. It isn’t safe to do so on the Ohio.”
“Perhaps that isn’t a bad notion, either,” one of the rowers replied, with a sullen smile. “Perhaps the captain will send some one on board to keep him company.”
Clay saw by the significant and sneering looks passing between the two men that they considered him a prisoner already. So much of a prisoner, in fact, that they did not consider it necessary to attempt to conceal their contempt and their triumph.
Had the Rambler been in fit condition he would have leaped out of the boat and speeded away. It seemed to him now, however, that the common-sense course would be to find out exactly what kind of a boat the Hawk was before taking any steps having the appearance of alarm.
“All right!” the boy answered in response to the rower’s offer to send some one on board to keep Jule company, “the boy may become lonesome after a time, although I shall be gone only a very few moments.”
“There’s a mighty jolly crowd on board our boat,” the rower went on. “There’s many a man gets aboard for an hour’s ride and never gets off for a hundred miles.”
“I don’t doubt it!” Clay said with a laugh.
It was the work of only a moment to land the unwilling boy on the freight deck of the Hawk. He was at once surrounded by a group of men who seemed to represent all grades of society. There was the well-dressed man wearing diamonds and the man who was garbed like a river rat!
The captain was a hatchet-faced man with rat eyes and a perfect bill of a nose. His manner was offensive as he approached Clay familiarly and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“So you’re going down the river on a little trip of your own, eh?” he asked. “Nice boat you’ve got.”
“Yes,” Clay answered, “it’s not expensive, but it’s pretty well rigged out. She’s a bit fast, too, when in good shape.”
“Looks like she could go some,” agreed the captain.
“What are you trading in?” asked a handsomely-dressed man who looked enough like the captain to be his brother.
“Oh,” Clay replied, “we’re just out for amusement; taking our vacation on the river.”
“That’s a good bluff, too,” the other sneered. “People don’t trail along the Ohio just for the fun of the thing.”
“If you’ve got whiskey aboard,” another called out, “you want to keep off our beat. We’re doing a little in that line ourselves.”
By this time Clay was thoroughly frightened. He saw that he was in the hands of a desperate and reckless gang of river thieves. While pretending to be a store-boat, the Hawk was merely a floating receptacle for stolen goods, with gambling as an assistant money-maker.
“You said,” the boy began in a moment, trying his best to conceal what he really felt, “that you could fit me out with spark plugs if I came on board.”
“Sure, we can!” answered the captain, with a sty wink at another. We can fit you out with anything on this little old boat.”
“All right,” Clay answered, “if you’ll get me the plugs, I’ll pay for them and go back to the Rambler.”
“No hurry!” laughed the captain. “No hurry at all. Still,” he continued, “if you’re anxious to get back, I’ll send one of the boys into the storeroom to look for the spark plug while you come up for a little social visit in the cabin.”
“No need of that,” smiled Clay, “I may as well remain on the lower deck. It probably won’t take long to find what I need.
The captain took the boy by the arm in a manner evidently intended to be friendly.
“Oh, come on!” he said. “We’ve got a slick little boat here, and I want you to look her over.”
“You bet we have!” cried another, “and we don’t let guests leave us without giving them something of a treat.”
Clay’s inclination was to deal the insulting captain a blow in the face, plunge into the river, and make for the Rambler. He knew very well, however, that such a course would instantly bring about hostilities; whereas, if he pretended to be unaware of their purpose, assistance in some form might come to him.
“Yes, come along!” urged the captain. “I’ll send a couple of boys over to bring your chum, and we’ll have a jolly night of it.”
It was useless for Clay to falter or draw back, so he stepped along as if grateful for the invitation. His hope was that Jule would understand the situation of affairs on board the Hawk and stand guard on deck with a good supply of automatic revolvers.
“Where’d you say you came from?” asked the captain as they ascended the stairway to the cabin. “Chicago,” was the short reply.
“Nice town, Chicago,” the captain went on with a leer. “I used to live in Chicago. I know every foot of the North Branch. Goose Island used to be my favorite resort.”
Clay was thinking that if the captain had ever resided in Chicago he must have left it at the request of the police, but did not say so. Reaching the cabin, the captain led Clay to a long, narrow stateroom looking out on the Kentucky shore. He took pains, however, to seat the boy so that he could not look out on the Rambler.
Before seating himself the captain proceeded to a cupboard hanging on the wall and took out two bottles and a siphon. One of the bottles contained whiskey; the other wine.
“It strikes me,” the captain said, “that this moonshine whiskey is a little bit too strong for boys, so I’ll give you a glass of wine. That’s prime wine, too. I bought it in Pittsburg and paid a big price for it. If you were to buy that wine, kiddo, you’d pay about two bits a glass for it. It’s the right kind of stuff.”
“Then I wouldn’t buy it!” Clay answered with a smile. “The fact is,” he continued, “we haven’t got any money to waste on drink, and don’t care for it, anyway.”
The captain went to a faucet with a glass and brought back two goblets of water. Just before he turned away from the faucet Clay was certain that he saw him dropping something into one of the glasses.
“Well,” the captain said, sitting down at the table and pushing one of the glasses over toward Clay, “I don’t urge any boy to drink anything intoxicating, but it would take a lot of this wine to creep up to a man’s head. Perhaps a glass of water will be just as good for you.”
Clay suspected that if he drank the water he would soon become unconscious. The captain of the Hawk was playing a quick game. He had not been aboard the vessel more than five minutes, and yet here he was in the captain’s cabin, being urged to partake of a drugged drink!
He arose with the glass in his hand, walked to the open window and looked out. The glass dropped with a crash. The act was involuntary for Clay saw the Rambler whirling away down the stream.