CHAPTER X: PLANS TO ESCAPE.
Raynor found that his duties, besides his kitchen work, included waiting on the table in the cabin. He managed to acquit himself at this without getting into serious trouble, although Terror Carson gave him several gruff reproofs during the evening. When supper was over the duty of washing the dishes fell to the two boys. Pompey retired forward for a smoke and they had the galley to themselves.
The breeze, which had been steady all the afternoon, was beginning to increase. The schooner began to leap and strain as the waves grew bigger. Raynor found some difficulty in keeping his feet.
“Say, it’s coming on to blow,� observed Raynor.
“Yes, and that’s too bad,� rejoined Noddy. “I’d got it framed up fer a getaway ter night.�
“To-night?� gasped Raynor.
“Yep, Pompey is to have the wheel to-night. He has that duty every two weeks. At midnight he’ll be alone on deck and if we fix up like ghosts it would be dead easy to scare him and get at the boat on the stern davits and make our fare-you-well.�
The boldness of the plan almost overcame Raynor.
“Here’s de proposition,â€� went on Noddy. “If we don’t do it to-night we won’t have a show ter take a crack at it fer annudder two weeks—see. By dat time de men say we’ll be up among der ice where der seals are, an’ it wouldn’t do us no good if we did escape, fer deres mighty few craft up dere.â€�
“Well, I’m game,� said Raynor.
“Good for you,� and Noddy dropped his voice and began whispering the details of his plan. By the time they had finished their work the schooner was pitching and tossing wildly and they knew that the storm was on the increase. “But dat don’t make no never mind,� declared the Bowery boy. “I’ve heard de men say dat de whale boat ’ud live in seas dat would sink de schooner.�
They parted, Noddy to go forward to his bunk in a storeroom, where sails, paint, etc., were stored, and Raynor to his cabin. Terror Carson and his mate sat at the table. They took no notice of the lad. In his cabin Raynor did not take his clothes off. He could not have slept. The excitement of the projected escape would have prohibited that. Midnight was the hour agreed upon, and he listened to the ship’s bell sounding the slowly passing hours, and half hours, with great impatience. At last the growl of voices in the cabin ceased and then two doors banged and Raynor knew the captain and mate had turned in. Just then the bell struck seven times. It was eleven-thirty.
“This is a bad night to leave the ship,� mused Raynor, as he sat waiting for the chiming of eight bells.
The schooner appeared to be under a press of canvas, for her hull was heeled over at a steep angle. At times she appeared to rush skyward and then hurtle down into a bottomless abyss. Raynor hoped the whaleboat was as seaworthy as such a type of boat is reputed to be. The thought of abandoning the enterprise, however, did not, enter his head. As Noddy had pointed out, it might be their only chance of escape, and Raynor longed for nothing more than to get free of the Polly Ann. It was his paramount ambition and it would have taken more than a stormy night to stop him.
As eight bells struck, Raynor rose and cautiously opened the door of his cabin a crack.
The swinging lamp outside was turned low and the main cabin empty. He stole cautiously out and then ascended the companionway to the deck.
Luckily, the companionway entrance was below a break in the stern so that the man at the wheel—Pompey—could not see him as, crouched almost double, he crept forward to the small deck house where Noddy had his berth. It was a wild night. Big seas, their white tops luminous, raced by, towering above the schooner’s rail. The speedy little vessel was heeled over almost on her beam ends at times, but she appeared remarkably seaworthy.
Not a soul could be seen on deck except Pompey’s dark form at the wheel, revealed by the faint glow-worm light of the binnacle lamp. At last Raynor, with infinite caution, reached Noddy’s sleeping place. He rapped three times, as they had agreed, and the door was opened.
Raynor almost uttered a cry of alarm as the portal was pulled back by Noddy. He saw what appeared to be a human face enveloped in pale green fire, out of which shone two luminous eyes.
“Swell ghost, eh?� chuckled Noddy, pulling him inside. “I made de stuff out’n match heads. Come on, here’s some fer you. Rub it on yer face an’ den I’ll give you yer shroud.�
He held up a shapeless-looking garment of white sail cloth that he had made, and at the same time cautiously turned up the flame of a lantern that stood in a corner so that Raynor could see.
“I don’t believe we can get away to-night in a small boat,� declared Raynor as he daubed on the phosphorescent solution under Noddy’s directions.
“Why not?� asked the Bowery lad.
“It’s too rough. Feel how the schooner is pitching. It’ll make the small boat dance about worse.�
“Well, we gotter take our chances on dat,� decided Noddy, “we’ll take a look when we git outside.�
At last the ghosts were ready. Raynor’s heart beat rather faster than was comfortable as they crept out upon the heaving, tossing decks. If their plan failed, and Terror Carson discovered it, a terrible fate might be in store for them. A strong wind whistled about them and a dash of rain beat in their faces.
“Gee! It is pretty bad, fer a fact,� declared Noddy. “Well, let’s get along to the stern.� They proceeded cautiously, doubled up under the shadow of the bulwark till they reached the break in the stern. Then, with an appalling yell, Noddy dashed up the steps leading on to the raised poop where the helmsman stood. Raynor was close behind him. Noddy’s shriek was echoed by a shout of alarm from Pompey.
“Gollyumptions! Ghostesses! De good lawd hab mussey on mah soul! Oh, Massa, ghostesses don’ hurt me! Wow!�
A wild yell of fear came from the trembling Pompey as Noddy raised a flaming hand and pointed straight at him. Pompey dropped the spokes of the wheel and dashed forward, leaping the break of the poop in one jump. At the same instant the schooner “broached to� as her helm was deserted. The canvas flapped wildly and she rolled in the trough of the seas. A giant wave broke over her bow with a sound like thunder.
At the same instant, from below, came a stentorian shout like the roar of an angry bull.
“On deck, there! What in the name of Davy Jones is the matter?�
“That’s Terror Carson!� cried Noddy. “Come on, let’s get forward. No escape for us to-night.�
The two boys rushed toward the bow just in time to avoid Carson, who came rushing on deck followed by his mate. They bolted into Noddy’s sanctum in time to avoid the crew, who came tumbling up the fore-hatchway, and hastily removed their shrouds and washed off the phosphorus. Then they ran out and mingled with the crowd on deck as if they had just been aroused by the confusion.
It was a wild scene on the deck of the Polly Ann. Carson himself had seized the tiller and was holding the craft on her course, but two sails had been ripped and a lot of water shipped over the bow. The boys came out just in time to see some sailors dragging Pompey aft from the galley, where he had taken refuge from what he thought were supernatural visitors.
The black was beside himself with fear of Terror Carson and alarm at what he had seen. He stammered out incoherent explanations about being scared from the wheel by “ghostesses.� Carson roared savagely at him. He declared he had a good mind to have him flogged. But finally he commuted the sentence to two days in irons. The boys felt conscience-stricken at having involved poor Pompey in such a quandary, yet they could not have made explanations without making matters worse.
Fortunately for them, the confusion and crowd on deck were so great that nobody noticed from what direction they came when they appeared, and it was taken for granted by all concerned that both had rushed from their bunks when the general alarm that followed the “broaching to� of the schooner took place.
And so ended their first attempt to escape from the seal poacher Polly Ann. Both lads were bitterly disappointed at the way Fate had turned her face against them, but both determined to try again at the first opportunity. Meantime, the Polly Ann forged northward, and destiny was weaving strange threads which were fated to form an important part in the fabrics of their lives.