Go-Ahead; Or, The Fisher-Boy's Motto

by Harry Castlemon

Meanwhile, the fisher-boy lay upon the sofa in the cabin, where Friday and Jack Spaniard had left him, listening to the noise of the storm, and wondering how many chances there were in a thousand that he would ever return to Newport. Again and again had he made the most desperate but unsuccessful efforts to free himself from his bonds, and finally, becoming wearied with his exertions, and discouraged by his failures, he settled back on the sofa, and awaited the destruction of the vessel with all the fortitude he could command.

Occasionally he heard the students moving about in their prison, and now and then the door would shake and bend, as if the boys were trying to force it from its hinges. Bob watched and listened, hoping that they would discover some way of effecting their escape; but the door, like every thing else about the yacht, had been made at Mr. Graves' ship-yard, and it was "first-class." It resisted all their efforts, and at last, the students, like Bob, became discouraged, and sat down to talk the matter over.

Harry Green was in great trouble. At his own request he had been placed in command of the guard of the yacht, and now, scarcely more than three hours after he assumed charge of the vessel, she had been taken from him. Since he had worked out the punishment that had been inflicted upon him for taking part in Tom's runaway scheme, he had been one of the most diligent students at the academy. He was working with an object in view, and that was, to distance the lieutenant-colonel at the next examination. As far as his lessons were concerned, he was already ahead of him in every thing except navigation; and he had resolved, that, by the end of the next quarter, he would lead his class in that study also. But his knowledge of books was not the only thing that would be inquired into. His conduct as an officer—as captain of company A, and first lieutenant of the Storm King, would be severely criticised, and especially the manner in which he executed the orders of his superiors. In his military record, Harry was confident that he could show a clean score; but there was every prospect that his career as a naval lieutenant would be brought to a speedy termination. Colonel Steele, in his capacity as a ranking naval officer, had given him written instructions to hold the yacht at all hazards in case an assault should be made upon her, and to bring every one of the attacking party prisoners to the academy. Harry had failed to obey these orders, and he was a candidate for a court-martial. The other officers of the guard were in the same predicament, and so were the seamen. They all had rivals at the academy, who were working hard to remove them from their positions on board the yacht, and it was no wonder that they looked upon the result of the battle as the greatest calamity that could have befallen them. They had lost their vessel, and, although there was not one among them who believed that they could be blamed for that, they felt rather serious, when they reflected that they would be called upon to prove this to the colonel's satisfaction. Could they not wipe out the disgrace, and insure their acquittal before the court-martial, by turning the tables on their enemies? The first lieutenant thought they could, but he did not know how to do it. He groped his way to the door—for the hold was so dark that he could not see his hand before him—threw himself against it with all his strength, and then called some of his crew to his assistance; but it was all in vain. They were prisoners, and such they would probably remain until their captors saw fit to release them.

"What in the name of sense do you suppose Tom Newcombe intends to do with us, and with the yacht?" was a question that the first lieutenant had asked perhaps twenty times, and which none of the crew could answer. They knew that Tom was very angry because his father had presented the Storm King to the principal of the academy, instead of giving it to him, and they were also well aware that that was one reason why he had seized the vessel. But they had never heard a word about the Crusoe band, and, consequently, they could not imagine where Tom was going, or why he kept company with Sam Barton and his band of outlaws. This matter had been talked over until every boy in the crew had expressed an opinion; and the only conclusion at which they arrived was, that Tom had got another of his wild ideas into his head, and that he would be certain, sooner or later, to get them and every body else on board the yacht into serious trouble.

"I have been with Newcombe on one runaway expedition," said Harry, "and I shall regret it as long as I live. I don't want to go with him on another, especially if he is to command the vessel."

"Neither do I," said one of the midshipmen—another old Night-hawk. "But how shall we get away from him? that's the question! If we could only take him and all the members of his society to the academy as prisoners, wouldn't it be——I'll tell you what it is, fellows," he added, as the sloop gave a tremendous lurch, which threw all the students into a heap in one corner of the hold, "if we don't get on deck very soon, and take charge of this craft, she's bound to go to the bottom."

The wild plunging of the vessel, the noise of the waves washing against her sides, and the sound of hurrying feet on the deck overhead, sent a thrill of terror to the heart of every boy in the hold. They knew that their captors had succeeded in getting the yacht under way, but they did not fully realize their danger until one of the students, who was steadying himself by holding on to the mast, which ran up through the hold, exclaimed:

"Fellows, Newcombe has hoisted some of the canvas, and is trying to sail out of the harbor in the face of this gale. Just put your hands on the mast, and see how it quivers!"