CHAPTER XVI
THE DUEL THROUGH THE DOOR
Bang!
A stateroom door closed just before the two young officers reached it.
Click! That told the story of a bolt shot into place.
"You may as well open!" called Jack, coolly. "We have ample force for breaking down that door!"
Crack! In that confined space the discharge of a pistol sounded almost deafening. A line of red shot through the stateroom door. The bullet from the weapon whizzed between Jack Benson and Eph Somers, the missile burying itself in wood across the passage.
Crack! Crack!
With that desperate fellow the other side of the door, shooting through the key-hole, it was worse than folly to remain in line of range.
Yet Jack and Eph retorted coolly, with the dignity of officers.
"My man," requested Lieutenant Jack, turning to one of the sailors, "hand me your revolver."
Taking the weapon, Benson glanced at it a second or two, then raised the weapon, sighting for the top of the stateroom door.
Bang! The shot that Jack fired sent a bullet crashing through the door close to the upper framework.
"You see, Gray!" Jack called coolly, "we're armed, too, and in overpowering numbers. Resistance is worse than foolish."
Bang! came the hostile answer.
This shot was fired through one of the panels of the stateroom door—fired at an angle, too.
Plainly the shot was intended to hit the young naval lieutenant. It passed Benson's right side by a margin of barely two inches.
"Pass me another revolver," whispered Benson, in the stillness that followed.
All through the day and evening these seamen, though outwardly respectful, and wholly well disciplined, had cherished a great deal of amusement over their boyish officers.
Now, however, these bronzed men of the deep beheld Benson and Somers at work in a manner worthy of any product of Annapolis.
The second revolver was handed to Jack.
"I want to be in this, too," muttered Ensign Eph, and held back his hand for weapons.
"Are you going to surrender, Gray, and open that door?" demanded
Lieutenant Jack.
"Never—to you," came the ugly defiance.
Bang! Again Gray fired, straight in the direction of the voice the bullet, crashing through a panel of the door, fanned Jack's left ear so that he felt the breeze.
"Open up on him, Mr. Somers," directed Benson. "Slowly. Fire high, and fire low. Try to get him somehow."
Two more shots came from the other side of the locked door.
Then pop-pop-pop! began the fusilade from outside, Jack and Eph firing with either hand as they sighted their weapons for new spots.
R-r-rip! crash! A long enough bombardment of this sort was certain to reduce the panels to splinters and leave the way clear—if they didn't riddle Gray with bullets in the meantime.
Pop-pop-pop! The air was becoming heavy with the white fog of smoke. Breathing was somewhat difficult, with so many shots being fired in the confined space.
Then both young officers stopped, passing back one revolver apiece to be reloaded.
Bang! came a defiant shot from inside the stateroom. The bullet struck the cabin floor just behind Jack, having passed between his feet.
The sailors, back where they were comparatively safe from harm, looked on in admiration at these two grit-full young American officers.
Pop-pop-pop! began the fusilade by Jack and Eph again.
"Ouch!" came a sudden yell from the stateroom.
"Hit you, did we?" called Jack, calmly. "Well, we're going to riddle you unless you stop that nonsense."
The answer was another shot from inside the stateroom. The bullet clipped off a stray lock of hair at the left side of Eph Somers's head.
Both young officers fired slowly, searchingly, until their weapons were emptied. Then they passed the hot smoking revolvers back for new loads.
From the other side of the stateroom door came no sound.
As soon as he and Eph had received the reloaded weapons, Jack motioned
Eph Somers not to fire.
For a few moments they listened. Then Jack turned, selecting the two most stalwart-looking of the husky sailors back by the companionway. A nod of Jack's head brought them stealthily to his side.
"Put your shoulders to the stateroom door, and force it," commanded
Lieutenant Benson.
At the same time Jack and Eph moved up with the sailors, holding their revolvers ready to fire at the first sign of renewed hostilities from within.
Bump! Two pairs of sturdy shoulders went up against the door. From within there came no sign of defiance. Bump! At the second determined assault the door flew open.
"Step back, men! We'll go in first," commanded Lieutenant Benson.
Revolvers in hand, and ready, the two young officers of the "Sudbury" pressed forward into the battered-looking room.
"Where is the rascal?" growled Eph Somers.
"Here, hiding like a cornered rat," replied Jack, aiming both revolvers at a huddled figure well in under the lower berth. "Come out, Gray! You won't be hurt unless you try tricks on us."
The answer was a groan.
"Are your hurt?" inquired Lieutenant Benson.
"Yes."
"How badly?"
"You hit me twice."
"Where?"
"Once in the left arm; once in the right thigh. O-o-o-h!"
Jack Benson felt a swift twinge—almost a guilty jerk of his conscience.
To be sure, Gray had been defying properly appointed officers of the government engaged in performing their sworn task. Gray had attempted to kill or injure the young officers.
Still, Gray was a human being. Benson, despite his fighting spirit, at need, was not fond of gazing upon misery.
"I guess you can get out, with a little aid," coaxed Lieutenant Jack.
Gray's answer was another groan.
"We'll help you out, then," Jack continued. "But don't you dare to open fire upon any of our party!"
"I would, if I could," snarled the wounded man.
"Why can't you?"
"Fired my last cartridge!" snapped the wretch, defiantly. "Else you wouldn't have got in here without losing a few men!"
Jack signed to the two men who had forced the door to lend a hand in moving Gray out from under the berth. As they got the wounded man out on the carpet he presented a sad picture in his bloodstained clothing.
"Will the Lieutenant pardon a suggestion?" spoke up one of the sailors, saluting.
"Yes."
"I have a first aid package, sir. With some help I can, bind this man's wounds until we get him over to the sick bay on the 'Sudbury.'"
"A fine idea," agreed Lieutenant Jack. "Go ahead."
First of all, the wounded prisoner was taken out into the passageway.
Jack and Eph had yet important work to do here. For a few minutes
they searched in vain. Then, in turning over the lower berth's mattress,
Eph's hand touched something hard.
"Wait until I get my pocket-knife out," he smiled.
Rip! r-r-r-r-rip! As Ensign Eph tore open the mattress and thrust his hands inside, the grin on his face broadened.
"I reckon we've got the object of the whole expedition," he announced.
He drew out a package wrapped in heavy paper. Jack broke the string, unwrapping, and pulling out to the light, a bundle of charts, layer upon layer.
"Yes. Here we have what we're after," nodded Lieutenant Benson. "And here are two books written chock-full of notes to go with the charts. Gracious! That fellow. Millard must have stolen plans of every important fortified harbor on the Atlantic coast. And here are charts of some of the gulf ports as well."
Gray, his wounds bound, had been laid on the door of the stateroom, which had been taken from its hinges. On this stretcher, the prisoner was taken over the side into the launch.
"Who's going to pay for the damage done here, sir?" asked the skipper of the Cobtown schooner, stepping forward.
"Hm!" muttered Jack. "It seems to me you are lucky, my man, that we don't put a prize crew aboard this craft and take you back to Norfolk."
"I haven't done anything," protested the fellow, "except to stand for a lot of damage on board because you're backed by sailors and marines."
"My man," retorted Jack, grimly, "if you think you have suffered any unfair damage, then lay your case before the Navy Department. But my private advice is for you not to attract the attention of the authorities to you in case they seem likely to overlook you."
"Is my vessel at liberty to proceed?" inquired the man, sullenly.
"Yes; I have no orders to seize your craft. I'd like to, however,"
Lieutenant Jack Benson added, dryly.