Bayard Bell did not sleep a wink that night, but tossed uneasily on his bed, thinking over his plans, and waiting impatiently for daylight. He had heard of such things as smuggling vessels, and was anxious to see one; and, more than that, he wanted to know how Walter Gaylord would look bound hand and foot, and what he would say when he learned that he was to be carried away from his home and put where he would never find his way back to it again.
“I’ll tell him that I am at the bottom of all his troubles,” said Bayard to himself. “I’ll say to him: ‘Walter Gaylord, I studied up this plan and put it into execution myself; and I have done it to show you that no boy can treat me as you have done with impunity. You think yourself some pumpkins because you beat me in that boat-race, and because the fellows elected you Commodore of the Yacht Club over me. What good will that office do you, I’d like to know? Where will you be when we go on our regular cruise next summer? Somebody will command the yachts and fly the Commodore’s broad pennant, but it won’t be you—it will be a fellow about my size, and who looks just like me. And that same fellow will win the champion colors, too, next summer, for you needn’t think that the Sportsman’s Club is going to hold them.’ That’s the way I’ll talk to him for a while, and then I will begin to abuse him. Perhaps he will be impudent—I hope he will, for that will give me an excuse for hitting him a cut or two with my riding-whip. I wish it was morning.”
The long hours of the night wore away at last, and as soon as the first gray streak of the dawn was seen in the east, Bayard sprang out of bed and aroused his cousins. They, too, had passed an almost sleepless night, and were ready to start for the smuggling vessel at once, and without waiting for their breakfast. Their horses were quickly saddled, and after a three hours’ hard gallop Bayard led his cousins into a thickly-wooded ravine, and dismounted.
“Coulte told me particularly to leave our nags here,” said he. “The schooner is only about a quarter of a mile away, and if some one should happen to be prowling about, and should find our horses hitched on the bank near her hiding-place, it might lead to her discovery. I don’t want to do anything to endanger the existence of that band, for I am going to join it some day.”
Having seen the horses concealed to his satisfaction, Bayard led his companions out of the ravine and across a narrow bottom, which was rendered almost impassable by the water and ice; and presently arrived on the bank of the cove where the schooner was hidden. The crew had heard them coming through the bushes and were evidently on the watch, for the boys saw three pairs of eyes looking at them over the top of the rail. As they stepped out into view the persons to whom the eyes belonged arose from their crouching posture, and then the boys saw that they were Coulte and his two sons. They saw at the same glance that the old man was greatly troubled about something, for he was smoking fast and furiously, and when he looked toward Bayard he wrung his hands and walked nervously up and down the deck. While the boys stood watching him and wondering what could be the matter, his sons clambered down into the yawl and came to the shore after them. As they approached, Bayard told himself that something had gone wrong with them too, for they took no notice of his greeting, but glared savagely at him, as if they had half a mind to lay violent hands upon him. Their looks were enough to frighten Will, who whispered to his cousin:—
“If we once get out of this scrape I’ll never have anything more to do with these men. I am afraid of them.”
“Nonsense! Don’t be uneasy,” replied Bayard, carelessly. “They are mad because we know that they belong to the smugglers. Let’s see them help themselves. We’ve got them completely under our thumbs.”
Having by this time reached the schooner, Bayard sprang over the rail and looked about him with much interest. Naval etiquette was strictly enforced by the rules of the yacht club of which he was a member, and his first move was to salute the quarter-deck, which he did with as much dignity as though he had been an admiral, and his next to make a hasty but critical examination of the schooner. She was about fifty tons burden, long and narrow, with a black hull, and tall, raking masts, and was supplied with more canvas than vessels of her size generally carry. It was plain that she had been built for speed, and that she was commanded by an experienced sailor, for her rigging was well kept, and her deck was in the best possible order. Bayard was delighted with her.
“Isn’t she a beauty?” he cried, turning to his cousins. “I don’t wonder that she has never been caught; for I will warrant that she can out-sail any revenue cutter in Uncle Sam’s service. Well, Coulte, good morning! You didn’t sleep very well last night, judging by your appearance.”
The Frenchman paused long enough to take his pipe out of his mouth and give utterance to a shrill whistle, and then put it in again, and continued his walk up and down the deck; while his boys folded their arms and leaned sullenly against the rail. Bayard looked from one to the other of them and exclaimed impatiently,