CHAPTER XII.
THE LOST TRAIL.
Sergeant True stood on the edge of the plain considering what should next be done. All signs of the trail had ceased as soon as the searchers had come out of the grass and brushwood. There could be no trail upon the flat plain, the Sergeant knew. A large party had just returned from searching the wood between the lake and the fort. There was a bare possibility that the fugitives had ventured to cross the plain, and run the gauntlet of the picket line into the fort; a little stronger possibility that they had skirted the wood by the shore and pushed on down toward the outlet where the Pixie navy lay. True therefore questioned the returning searchers:
"Have you seen anything?"
"Nothing. Lieutenant MacWhirlie has had the entire strip between lake and fort thoroughly guarded ever since the alarm. Nothing could have passed, he says. Nothing has passed that has left any trail. The Lieutenant has sent scouts down the shore to make sure."
Rodney and Pipe heard the report with heavy hearts. Hope was fast dying within them. "Must we give it up?" cried the Commodore. "Is there no deliverance?"
"There is but one way by which they could have escaped us," said True, pointing toward the lake. "Is it possible that we have been mistaken, and that pirates have done this outrage after all? Commodore, have there been any boats or ships off shore lately?"
"Not one," answered Rodney. "Both fleets are lying by for repairs, for the last fight used them up pretty well. We've been doing shore service ever since."
"It is most strange! But we must search the shore thoroughly in this neighborhood, at any rate."
The bank of the lake was presently covered with Brownies eagerly scanning by the light of their torches and lanterns every foot of ground.
"We have it, we have it!" shouted Rodney. "Come here, Pipe! and you, Waterborn. Look at this!" Immediately a crowd surrounded the excited Commodore.
"Stand back!" he cried; "don't push down so close upon the shore until some of the sailors have seen these marks. A boat has landed here within the last half hour. See the wash of the waves upon the sand! And just there the bow has scraped. What say you, lads?"
"There is no doubt of it," responded Pipe, after a careful examination. Waterborn, the mate, held his lantern to the water line and after a moment's inspection gave the same opinion.
"Here," exclaimed Blythe, "is the crowning proof!" He plucked from the shore a handful of silken threads that had caught upon the sand and gravel which covered the spot where Faith and Sophia must have lain. Yes, they had found the trail again; but only to lose it in the waters of Lake Katrine.
"What shall be done?" asked Rodney.
"We must follow you now," answered True. "The path lies upon an element of which I know little. You and the Boatswain are at home there. To you who are most wronged Providence gives the opportunity to undo the injury. We yield to the navy, now. Lead on; we'll follow you, you may be sure."
Rodney and Pipe had scarcely been themselves since the first tidings of their bereavement. Their wills seemed benumbed by the blow. They followed Sergeant True like little children. But now that responsibility was laid in their hands, they roused themselves to duty. They were the keen, shrewd, sailor chiefs once more. Subdued still by their grief, but alert and intelligent, they took up the work before them.
"'Tis an element that leaves no trail," said Rodney, "yet it will go hard, but my gallant tars shall find the lost ones. We'll scour every nook and beat every bush along shore, if need be. We'll pluck the dear captives from under the black flag or we'll sink every timber in the fleet! What say you, lads?"
A hearty cheer was the sailors' answer. The whole company on shore joined in it. And it did them all good.
"You can not tell which direction the boat has taken, of course," said True. "But have you any opinion at all about it? You must start out from some view point. What shall it be?"
"That is exactly what I have been asking myself," said Rodney. "I have a notion that the boat, wherever it came from, has crossed to the island or gone down to the outlet to join the fleet. I incline to the latter view. The island is lightly garrisoned; the Orchard Camp is nearly deserted; the mass of Pixie troops are shut up in Fort Spinder. Naturally, the robbers would take to the fleet as the safest place."
"That is good reasoning, Commodore," said Waterborn, "and there is only one thing that weakens it. The wind would be dead against them going downward. For the last half hour it has been blowing due north—straight upon the island."
"True; but we shall see presently. The first thing is to rally our men. Boatswain, pipe to quarters."
"Aye, aye, Sir!" answered Pipe, and the shrill whistle sounded through the air and along the water. A few stragglers who had joined the various searching parties gathered in at the call. But most of the sailors and marines were already present.
"Now lads, we must away to our ships. Fall in! Forward, march!" The column started up the shore at quick step, and was soon lost to view.
CHAPTER XIII.
RAFT THE SMUGGLER.
Spite and Hide saw that Faith's cry had aroused the Brownies, and pushed at their utmost speed directly from the camp. It did not occur to them that they might be tracked by the threads of web-work torn off by leaves and twigs from the cords with which they had bound their captives. But they did fear that one of the Nurses might again cry out; and they stopped long enough to fasten gags upon their mouths.
Several times the Pixie chiefs turned toward Fort Spinder, hoping to reach the Old Bridge by the way they had come. But their progress was checked by bands of Brownies scattered everywhere in the direction of the fort. The lights of the searchers were seen dancing throughout the entire plain, and running hither and thither in confused lines among grass and shrubbery.
More than once the Pixies were on the point of being discovered. Several times they had to crouch under the leaves, lest they should be seen by parties of excited searchers. Indeed, their safety lay in the fact that the Brownies were so much excited; and had all been as self-possessed as the cool headed True, Spite and Hide would have been captured.
At last they reached a point where the plain sweeps down to the sandy bank of the lake, which is a natural basin widened into an artificial pond. The brook that flows from the Hillside spring runs through it. There is an island in the middle of the lake, covered with grass, moss and ferns. In honor of the old home the Brownies called the lake Loch Katrine, and the island Ellen's Isle, names which the Pixies refused to acknowledge, and called the pond Lake Arachne and the island Aranea Isle. On this little sheet of water, and its inlet and outlet, the navies of the Brownies and Pixies floated; and here was the scene of many a battle between Rodney and his sailors and the Pixies and pirates.
Spite and Hide paused on the border of the plain to consider. It was not far to the pier of the Old Bridge along which lay the path to the fort. But the space between them and that point was swarming with Brownies. MacWhirlie had mustered his entire troop, and set them to patrolling the plain. Throughout the woods, from the foot of the hill to the very lakeside, sentinels were posted at short intervals, and burdened as they were the Pixies could not pass that line.
"Well, Hide, what shall we do?"
"Do? Humph! there is little choice left us now. I will follow my chief. Lead on!"
"Lead on? Whither?" Spite snapped his fangs angrily as he spoke. "You got me into this scrape. It was a foolhardy adventure. Now get me out! I know you have something to advise."
"Very good! Let us kill these pretty captives of ours," said Hide with a sneer, "and cut our way through to the pier. Or, if you lead the way with them, I'll follow."
Spite looked down upon the unconscious form of Faith.
"I see no way out of this," he said. "To break through the line would be certain death. It looks as though it had come to that at any rate. May the foul fiend take you for tempting me to this madcap raid! Hide, Hide, bethink you, I pray!" Spite's voice was trembling with—fear, shall we say? Without awaiting reply from his companion, he took Faith in his arms and ran down to the edge of the water.
Hide followed him. He had long suspected what no one else had dreamed of, that Spite at heart was a coward. He had little love for his chief. Indeed, the thought was not new to the ambitious Lieutenant that Spite alone blocked the way of his own promotion to the headship of the Pixies. That he would be a worthy leader he, at least, did not doubt. He enjoyed his Captain's agitation, and was pleased to keep him upon nettles. He had already settled a plan of escape.
Fig. 53.—Brownie Fire-fly Lantern.
Spite eagerly scanned the surface of the lake.
"It's no use looking for the navy, Captain," said Hide. "There it rides, away down by the outlet. We must pass the Brownie pickets to get at the boats. Might as well cut through to the pier!"
"Is there no escape then? This is terrible! We shall be slaughtered outright." He pointed to the semi-circle of lanterns and torches drawing closer and closer upon them, marking where True and his party were following hard upon their trail. Spite dropped his burden, sat down, and fairly wrung his hands in despair. Yes, Spite the Spy, the chief of all the Pixies, did that!
Hide highly enjoyed the distress of his Captain. He had proved what he had long suspected, and, best of all, he had gained a hold upon Spite that would give great advantage over him in the future. He saw that it was high time to drop this malicious by play and address himself in earnest to escape.
"Cheer up, my brave Captain!" he cried, "I think I see a way out of this."
"Hah! Is it so?" Spite was too much elated with hope to notice the sneering tone of his Lieutenant.
Fig. 54.—The Nurses Carried Away on Raft Dolomede's Yacht, the Fringe.
"You shall see wait here a moment." He ran along the sand to a clump of ferns that bent over from the bank until they kissed the water. He mounted one of these and disappeared. Soon the drooping tips of the ferns lifted up, parted, and a curious craft glided out from the cove formed by the bended foliage. What a snug and secret harbor it was! The vessel touched the bank close by the spot where Spite stood, and Hide jumped ashore.
"Now then," he cried, "all aboard! We have no time to lose." He lifted Sophia from the ground as he spoke, carried her to the boat and laid her down in a leafy canopy or cabin. Spite followed with Faith.
"Push off now!" said Hide to a tall Pixie who had charge of the vessel. He put his paws against the shore and shoved vigorously. The waterman did the same, and the boat shot out into the lake. A brisk wind was blowing along the surface of the water, and the craft was soon off shore and out of danger.
The lanterns of the Brownies were seen bobbing along the bank just above the spot at which but a moment before the boat had been moored. A group of lights marked the point at which the trail had been lost, and where True and his party were now standing perplexed.
"Ugh!" said Spite as he watched the scene. It was hard to tell whether the sound betokened pleasure or displeasure. He was greatly relieved at the prospect of escape, but was not in the most amiable humor, for all that. With the easing of his fears came the thought of how he had exposed his weakness. His pride was hurt. He felt humiliated. He knew that Hide had been trifling with him, and his wrath grew hot thereat. He vowed revenge in his heart, but was too wise to show his feeling then. "I can wait!" he said. He glowered upon the Lieutenant, but soon cleared up his face and spoke cheerfully.
"Truly, friend Hide, you seem to be a person of varied resources. Pray, how chanced you to come across this waterman and his boat?"
"The fact is, Cap'n?" answered Hide laughing, "I have to keep a little private yacht for my own use. There are certain things, you know, for which one cannot well use the government ships. This is my friend, Raft Dolomede. Raft, allow me to present you to my chief, Spite the Spy. You see, Captain, my American friend has great respect for our community, although he does not belong to us. He has been brought up on this lake; is a skillful sailor, willing to obey orders, take his pay and ask no questions. He runs on his own hook—is a privateersman, in fact, on a small scale. We understand each other pretty well, and, of course, I knew where he kept his boat moored. He's not on very good terms with our cruisers; for, in sooth, he doesn't quite understand our revenue laws. I fear, now, that it wouldn't do to look closely under these leaves! There might be something contraband aboard besides these fair Brownies. Hey, Raft?"
Raft's boat was a home-made affair, but was ingeniously built. Dry leaves had been gathered into a mass, and fastened together with silken threads. To this had been added a mast, a sail, a jib and other fixtures so that the structure was a cross between a raft and a schooner. The leaves served admirably the varied uses of hull, sails, storerooms, beds and barricade. They caught the wind and drove the boat along as well as a ship's canvas. They were soft dry couches for sailors or passengers. The hollows and crevices between them were the "hold" of the vessel and gave ample storage.
Raft, the owner of this craft, was a handsome specimen of the family of water-pixies. He wore a coat of chocolate brown, trimmed with a broad orange band, and covered with double rows of white buttons. His trousers were pale red. He was quite at home on the lake with his yacht, and was such a skillful swimmer that he might really be said to walk on the water instead of swimming through it.[AC]
"How shall I put her head now?" asked Raft. "We're bearing nor' east by east, and with this wind will soon strike the cave yonder on the orchard shore. Shall I keep her so?"
"What say you, Captain?" asked Spite. "What are we to do with these, now?" pointing to Faith and Sophia.
"The first thing to be done, it seems to me," said Raft, casting a pitying look upon the nurses, "is to give 'em a little breathing privilege. If you don't take those rags off their figure-heads, and give 'em a breath of fresh wind, they'll soon be dead Brownies." With that he opened the sharp claws on one of his hands, like a pair of scissors, and without more ado cut the bands that had been placed as gags around the captives' mouths.
Fig. 55.—"Murderous Assaults Upon One Another."
"All right!" he said, resuming his rudder, "go on with your palaver. But heave ahead lively, or we'll be across the lake before you decide."
Spite had been in a deep study. At last he said, "We must go to the island."
Raft glanced inquiringly at Hide, who nodded assent. "Aye, aye, Sir. Port-a-helm it is." He turned the bow toward Ellen's Isle.
"We can easily find lodgings for our fair prizes there," continued Spite. "But what about Fort Spinder? That is what troubles me. How are we to get back? It is now too soon after the alarm to think of running the pickets. Even if it were possible to do that by night as things are now, it would be madness to try it by daylight. And yet, we must get some word to our people soon, and have them out of that fort by to-morrow night, or—" Spite paused and looked serious.
"Well?" said Raft.
"Well?" said Hide, "or—what?"
"You know quite as well as I!" answered Spite. "There will not be a corporal's guard of Pixies left in Fort Spinder, that's all!"
Hide shrugged his shoulders and looked grave. He had known very well what Spite meant, and he had a wife and children in the fort. There was a long pause. Spite and Hide were in deep and anxious thought. They could imagine the wild natures shut up within Fort Spinder venting their native savagery in murderous assaults upon one another.[AD] What could control them when the absence of their two chief officers should be discovered? Was there any chance for them to return to the fort? or any other way to prevent the catastrophe which they dreaded? The wind freshened, and in the meantime the "Fringe" (as Raft called his yacht) was rapidly approaching the island.