“How does that come?” asked Pierre, in a tone of voice that was aggravating to the last degree. “Did you clear from Port Platte?”
“No, because we didn’t get the chance. You stole the vessel and run away with her. But I can show that we cleared from Bellville.”
“No, you can’t. And, more than that, you’ve got guns and ammunition aboard intended for the use of the Cubans.”
Pierre paused when he said this, and looked at the boys as if he expected them to be very much astonished; and they certainly were. They knew now where the carbines came from, and why they had been placed in the hold, and their words and actions indicated that if the guilty party had been within their reach just then, he would have fared roughly indeed. Walter was the only one who had nothing to say. He stood for a moment as mute and motionless as if he had been turned into stone, and then catching up the lantern, rushed into his cabin. He opened his desk, and with nervous haste began to overhaul the papers it contained.
“O, you’ll not find them there,” said Pierre, “they’re gone—torn up, and scattered about the harbor.”
“What’s the matter, Walter?” asked all the boys at once.
“Our papers are gone, that’s all,” replied the young captain, calmly. “Some one has stolen them. Now, Pierre,” he added, paying no heed to the exclamations of rage and astonishment that arose on all sides, “I want you to tell me what has been going on on board my vessel this afternoon.”
“Well, I don’t mind obliging you,” answered the smuggler, “seeing that it is too late for you to repair the damage, and, in order to make you understand it, I must begin at the beginning. You see, although we cleared from Bellville for Havana, we did not intend to go there at all. This very bay is the point we were bound for, but it is an ugly place in a gale, and so we put into Port Platte to wait until the wind and sea went down, so that we could land our cargo. Perhaps you don’t know it, but the Stella is loaded with just such weapons as these you’ve got.”
“I don’t doubt it,” said Walter, “but why did you bring some of them aboard this vessel?”
“I’ll come to that directly. When you set out in pursuit of us, after we left Lost Island, we knew that you must have found Chase, and that he had told you the whole story; but we didn’t feel at all uneasy, for we believed that when we once lost sight of you we should never see you again. As bad luck would have it, however, the storm blew you right into Port Platte, and of course you found us there. When we saw you come in we knew what you wanted to do, and set our wits at work to get the start of you, and I rather think we’ve done it. We laid half a dozen plans, believing that if one failed another would be sure to work. In the first place Mr. Bell directed the attention of the custom-house officers to you and your vessel. He is well acquainted with them all, you know, and he has fooled them more than once, as nicely as he fooled the captain of that cutter at Lost Island. He told them that you were the fellows who were smuggling all the arms into this country for the use of the rebels; that you had intended to land somewhere on the coast, but had been compelled by the gale to come into the harbor, and that you would probably go out again as soon as the wind died away. Having excited the officers’ suspicions, the next thing was to do something to back them up; and we thought the best way would be to smuggle some weapons aboard the Banner. But in order to do it we had to work some plan to get you away from the yacht, so that we could have a clear field for our operations. Mr. Bell and Captain Conway took Fred Craven up the hill in plain sight of you, and, as we expected, some of you followed him. Then the mate found one of Don Casper’s niggers on the wharf, and used him to help his plans along. He wrote a note to Chase, and signed Walter’s name to it.”