“He might have done it while we were looking for the pirogue, or at any time within ten minutes after we entered the cove,” remarked Walter. “I for one was so much astonished at what I saw and heard when we came around the point, that, after Chase ceased speaking to us, I never thought of him again until we had got our vessel moored to the bank.”
“I can’t tell when it was done, fellows,” continued Chase, “but I know it was done. As soon as Coulte had secured me, he looked out of the cave, waved his hand once or twice, and then began throwing out the articles he had given me for an outfit. Perhaps he thought you might look in ‘The Kitchen’ for me before you left the island, and he didn’t think it best to leave any traces of me there. In a few minutes Pierre came up with a rope over his shoulders. This they made fast under my arms, and watching their opportunity, when your attention was engaged with something else, they lowered me into the gully. They then followed me down the pole by which Pierre had come up, and hid me away under the rocks where you found me.”
And Chase might have added that after they had disposed of him, they went on board the smuggling vessel and concealed themselves in the hold until she was safe out of the cove. But this was something of which he had no positive evidence. In a few days, however, the crew met some one who told them all about it, and then Eugene, to his great surprise, learned that if he had faithfully performed the part Walter had assigned him, he might have been able to make a great change in the fortunes of Fred Craven. He could then have revealed to the revenue captain the whereabouts of the men who had captured Chase and brought him to the island, and that gentleman might have been induced to look into the matter.
When Chase finished his story, and the Club had questioned him to their satisfaction, he expressed a desire to hear what had happened to them since they last met. Eugene spoke for his companions, and it is certain that there was not another member of the Club who could have described their adventures in more glowing language, or shown up the obstinacy and stupidity of the revenue captain, in a more damaging light. Eugene said he could not tell what had become of the remains of the pirogue, or tell how Coulte and Pierre had left the island; but he made everything else clear to Chase, who, when the story was finished, was as indignant as any of the Club. The incidents of the interview with Mr. Bell were thoroughly discussed, and the conclusion arrived at was, that they had been very nicely outwitted; that the smugglers had played their part to perfection; and that the revenue captain was totally unfit for the position he held.
During the next hour nothing worthy of record transpired on board the yacht. Walter kept as much sail on her as she could carry, and although she did splendidly, as the heaving of the log proved, she moved much too slowly to suit her impatient crew. Directly in advance, apparently no nearer and no farther away than when the pursuit began, was the smuggling vessel; and in the west was that angry-looking cloud, whose approach the boy-sailors awaited with no little uneasiness.
Having had their talk out, Fred Craven’s mysterious disappearance having been fully explained, and knowing that nothing could be done to assist him until the schooner was overtaken and help obtained from some source, the crew of the Banner began to busy themselves about matters that demanded their immediate attention, with a view to making their voyage across the Gulf as safe and agreeable as possible. The first thing to be done was to put Chase and Wilson at their ease. Now that their excitement had somewhat worn away, these young gentlemen began to look upon themselves as interlopers, and to wish that they were anywhere but on board the yacht. Their desire to assist Featherweight was as strong as ever, but remembering all that had passed, and judging the Club by themselves, they believed that their absence would have suited Walter and his friends quite as well as their company. Nothing had been done, a word said, or a look given to make them think so, but the manner in which they conducted themselves showed plainly enough that such was their impression. They took no part in the conversation now, answered the questions that were asked them only in monosyllables, and exhibited a desire to get away from the crew and keep by themselves. The Club saw and understood it all, and tried hard to make them believe that all old differences had been forgotten, and that their offers of friendship were sincere. When lunch was served up—the last crumb the baskets contained was eaten, for Walter said that one square meal would do them more good than two or three scanty ones—the Club made them talk by asking them all sorts of questions, and requesting their advice as to their future operations; and Eugene even went so far as to offer Wilson the bow-oar of the Spray to pull in the next regatta—a position which he regarded as a post of honor, and which, under ordinary circumstances, he would have been loth to surrender to his best friend. Wilson declined, but Eugene insisted, little dreaming that when the next regatta came off, the Spray would be locked up in the boat-house and covered with dust, while he and the rest of her gallant crew would be thousands of miles away.
By the time lunch had been disposed of, the Club, by their united efforts, had succeeded in dispelling all doubts from the minds of their late enemies, and harmony and good feeling began to prevail. While the dishes were being packed away in the baskets, Wilson discovered a sail which he pointed out to Walter, who, with his glass in his hand, ascended to the cross-trees. After a few minutes’ examination of the stranger, he came down again, and the course of the Banner was altered so as to intercept the approaching vessel. At the end of an hour she was in plain sight, and proved to be a schooner about the size of the Stella—a coaster, probably. In thirty minutes more the two vessels were hove-to within speaking distance of each other; Walter, with his trumpet in his hand was perched upon the yacht’s rail, and the master of the schooner stood with one hand grasping the shrouds and the other behind his ear, waiting to hear what was said to him.
“Schooner ahoy!” shouted Walter.
“Ay! ay! sir!” was the answer.
“I have no provisions; can you spare me some?” The captain of the schooner, after gazing up at the clouds and down at the water, asked: “How much do you want?”