No Moss; Or, The Career of a Rolling Stone

by Harry Castlemon

The crew of the Storm King fared as well as if they had been at the academy. During the previous day, they spoke the principal's tug, which supplied them with an abundance of cooked rations. Part of them, too, were in better trim than the Crusoe men; for, when the storm began to abate, about three o'clock, the starboard watch had gone below, and enjoyed two hours refreshing sleep. When the crew had eaten breakfast, and the mess-tables had been cleared away, the port watch were ordered to stand by their hammocks. They obeyed, and went below, but did not stay there long. They were too excited to sleep. They returned to the deck again, one after the other, and the captain raised no objections to it. He was a boy himself; and he knew that he would not turn in, while the pirates were in plain sight, for any body.

All that forenoon the chase continued. The yacht sailed better in a heavy sea than the schooner, and the Crusoe men could not shake her off. She followed them like an avenging spirit; but, as the waves began to subside, the Sweepstakes gradually drew away from her, and might again have succeeded in effecting her escape, had not two tugs, loaded with students, suddenly come into view from behind one of the neighboring islands, where they had been snugly sheltered during the storm. A cheer, which came faintly to the ears of the Storm King's crew, arose from the tugs, as they changed their course and steamed toward the pirate. The young tars growled lustily, and looked toward the captain, who stood with his hands behind his back, dividing his attention between the tugs and the schooner. The army and navy were now fairly matched, and Tom Newcombe was to determine the winning party. If he kept on out to sea, the military would bear off the honors; but if he ran toward the nearest island, which was scarcely a quarter of a mile distant, he would be captured by the navy. If he had never been cornered before, he was now. There was not the smallest chance for escape.

Captain Steele leveled his glass at the schooner, and could see that there was great excitement among her crew. They were gathered about the wheel, flourishing their arms wildly, some apparently advising one thing, and some another; but the matter was finally settled by the skipper, who took his place at the helm and turned the Sweepstakes toward the island. It was plain to them all that their cruise was ended at last. Their vessel had served them faithfully, but she could be of no further use to them now. They must run her ashore and take to the woods.

The Storm King still followed close at the heels of the flying schooner. She seemed to glance over the waves without touching them; but, fast as she went, the tugs, which were following a course at right angles with her own, gained rapidly, rolling the smoke in dense volumes from their chimneys, and lashing the water furiously with their wheels. For a time it seemed that they would cut the schooner off from the island altogether; but Tom gradually changed his course as he approached them, and ran into a little bay in the island, just as the nearest tug, which was scarcely fifty yards distant, stopped and began to use her lead-line.

"Hold on, Tom Newcombe!" yelled the major, as the schooner dashed by the tug. "You're my prisoner. Stop, I tell you! Captain, why don't you go on? Can't you see that yacht coming?"

"Yes, I see her," replied the master of the tug, "and I know she will capture the schooner. But I can't help it, for I can't run my vessel without plenty of water. There's a bar across the mouth of that bay, and I can't pass it."

At this moment Spencer's tug came up, and stopped near the other; and, while the impatient young officers and their men were crowding about the captains, and urging them to go ahead, whether there was water enough to float the tugs or not, the Storm King swept by like the wind. There was no noise or confusion on her deck. The young tars were all at their stations; a party of boarders, under the command of Harry Green, stood on the forecastle; Captain Steele, a little pale with excitement, but quite self-possessed and confident, was perched on the rail, holding fast to the shrouds, and as his vessel bounded past the tugs he lifted his cap to his discomfited rivals. Five minutes afterward the yacht's canvas was lying on her deck; her bowsprit was lashed fast to the schooner's foremast; Harry Green's boarders had released Johnny Harding and the jolly-boat's crew, and made prisoners of Friday and Xury just as they were on the point of leaping overboard; Johnny had secured the valise, snatched an empty pistol from a sailor, opened the hatchway that led into the store-room, and compelled the burglars to pass up their revolvers, threatening to shoot them on the spot if they did not instantly comply with his demands; and a small skiff, which Captain Steele had picked up the day before, to supply the place of the jolly-boat, was in hot pursuit of the governor and Tom Newcombe, who were tossing about in the waves, and swimming lustily for the shore. Sam was overtaken and secured in spite of his desperate struggles; and, during the delay he occasioned, Tom reached the beach and disappeared in the woods. He was the only one of the Crusoe band who escaped.

The next morning, about ten o'clock, Johnny Harding, flushed with triumph and excitement, burst into the store where Mr. Henry was busy at his desk, and, with the air of one who did not think he had done any thing very remarkable, placed the valise containing the seven thousand dollars upon the counter, pulled a pair of navy revolvers from his pockets and laid them beside the valise, and then, seeing that the store had not yet been swept out, seized a broom and went to work. He did not say a word, and neither did Mr. Henry, until he had counted the money, when he came out from behind the counter and shook hands with his clerk so cordially that Johnny dropped the broom and raised one knee almost up to his chin.

"I never expected to see it again," said the grocer. "How shall I ever repay you, Johnny? What do you want?"

"I want something good to eat, and about forty-eight hours' sleep," replied the clerk.