As we have seen, from the few words that passed between them, the young sailors had left the yacht without any very definite object in view. They wanted to assist Fred Craven, if the opportunity were presented, but just how they were going to set about it they could not tell. Should they hurry on, and when they came up with him demand his release; or should they wait and see what his captors were going to do with him? While they were talking the matter over, the objects of their pursuit disappeared over the brow of the hill, and that was the last they saw of them, although they at once quickened their pace to a run, and in a few seconds were standing on the very spot where they had last seen them. They looked in every direction, but the men and their captive had vanished. Before them was a wide and level road, leading through the village and into the plain beyond, and they could see every moving thing in it for the distance of a mile. There were people there in abundance, but none among them who looked like Fred Craven and his keepers. Where could they have gone so suddenly?
“Now this beats everything I ever heard of,” said Walter in great bewilderment. “We are not dreaming, are we?”
“No sir,” replied Perk, emphatically. “I was never more fully awake than I am at this moment. There’s some trick at the bottom of this.”
“What in the world is it?”
“I should be glad to tell you if I knew. You take one side of the street, and I’ll take the other. Don’t waste time now, but be careful to look into every shop and behind every house you pass.”
Walter, prompt to act upon the suggestion, set off at the top of his speed, followed by Perk, who, although equally anxious to get over a good deal of ground in the shortest possible space of time, conducted his search with more care. Had the former looked into one of the cross-streets past which he hurried with such frantic haste, he might, perhaps, have caught a partial glimpse of the burly form of Captain Conway standing in a doorway; and had he approached him he would have found Mr. Bell and Featherweight standing close behind him. But he did not know this, and neither was he aware that as soon as he and Perk passed on down the street, the master of the smuggling vessel came cautiously from his place of concealment, and looking around the corner of a house, watched them until they were two hundred yards away. But the Captain did this, and more. Having satisfied himself that the young tars had been eluded, he returned to the doorway and held a short conversation with Mr. Bell. When it was ended, that gentleman hurried off out of sight, and the Captain, drawing Fred’s arm through his own, conducted him along the cross-street and through lanes and by-ways back to the wharf, and on board a vessel—not the Stella, but a large ship, which, if one might judge by the hustle and confusion on her deck, was just on the point of sailing. As he and his captive boarded her, they were met by the master of the vessel who, without saying a word, led them into his cabin and showed them an open state-room. Without any ceremony Fred was pushed into it, the door closed and the key turned in the lock.
“There,” said Captain Conway, with a sigh of relief, “he is disposed of at last. If any of those Banner fellows can find him now, I should like to see them do it. Mr. Bell’s been in this business too long to be beaten by a lot of little boys.”
This was only a part of Mr. Bell’s plan; and while it was being carried into execution, some other events, a portion of which we have already described, were taking place in the harbor. The mate of the smuggling vessel visited the yacht, and after enticing Tomlinson and the rest of the deserters on board the Stella by the promise of a good breakfast, and a pipe to smoke after it, and starting off Wilson and his companion on a wild-goose chase, by sending them a note purporting to come from Walter, had cleared the coast so that he could carry out the rest of his employer’s scheme without let or hindrance. The first thing he did was to convey some bales and boxes containing arms, ammunition and military trappings, on board the yacht—for what purpose we shall see presently—and his second to secure possession of Walter’s clearance papers. When these things had been done, the mate returned on board the Stella and received some more instructions from Mr. Bell; after which he came out of the cabin and joined the deserters who were in the forecastle, discussing the breakfast that had been prepared for them. By adroit questioning he finally obliged Tomlinson to confess what he had all along suspected—that he and his companions belonged to the United States revenue service, and that they had deserted their vessel and stolen a passage across the Gulf, with the intention of shipping aboard a Cuban privateer. When the mate had found out all he wanted to know, he left them with the remark that there was a privateer lying off Havana, all ready to sail as soon as she had shipped a crew, and that if the deserters wanted to find her they had better start at once. He added that they might waste a good deal of valuable time if they waited for a vessel to take them to the city, and that the best thing for them to do would be to steal a small sailboat. There were plenty of them about the harbor. Havana was only a hundred miles away, and with a fair wind they could sail there in a few hours. If they adopted that plan, they had better wait until dark in order to escape the vigilance of the Spanish officials, who boarded all vessels, even skiffs, as they entered and left the port.
“What have you fellows got to say to that?” asked Tomlinson, as soon as the officer had ascended to the deck. “The mate’s plan agrees with mine exactly, and that proves that it is worth trying. We will go back and take the Banner as soon as we have finished our breakfast. I am going, at least, and I’d like to know who is with me. Speak up!”