“No, sir, I don’t remember that I have ever been aboard this craft before,” said Don.
“I can show you your name on the articles, all fair and ship-shape, if you want to see it,” remarked the skipper, as he proceeded to untie the ropes with which Don was confined. “What have you done with the advance I paid you?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Of course you don’t. The next time you get a few dollars in your pockets for ballast, keep a clear head on your shoulders by steering wide of grog-shops. Now, then, tumble up and turn to. Go for’ard and——”
The captain suddenly paused, for he was talking to the empty air. He had unwittingly allowed Don, who was stretching his arms and legs to limber up his muscles, to get between him and the open window in the stern, and the last the captain saw of him, he was sailing through that window like a bird on the wing. He heard a loud splash, and by the time he could get to the stern and look out, there was nothing but a bubble or two on the surface of the water to show where Don had disappeared.
Among the many ways that the academy boys had of amusing themselves, and of which we never before had occasion to speak, were private theatricals, which were given in the presence of the faculty and all the students. During the last term the members of the first class had produced the pantomime called “The Golden Egg,” with Don Gordon, who was by long odds the best gymnast in school, as the Harlequin. If you have ever seen this pantomime played, you will remember that one of the things the Harlequin has to do is to dive through a window, placed about the height of his shoulders from the floor of the stage, his fall being broken by a blanket held by ten or a dozen people on the other side of the scenes. The ease and grace with which Don performed this difficult feat always called forth rounds of applause from the students, who would have been astonished if any one had told them that the Harlequin’s agility would one day be of real service to him. The assiduous practice which had enabled him to perform his part so creditably on the academy stage, stood him in hand now. While the captain of the coaster was talking to him, Don bounded from the floor like a rubber ball, went through that window without ever touching the sides of it, and disappeared in the water under the stern.
Knowing that instant pursuit would be made, the boy wasted no time in trying to hide. He believed that the very first place the captain would look for him would be under the pier, so he kept away from it, swimming under water as long as he could hold his breath, and striking out for the middle of the bay the instant he arose to the surface. As soon as he thought it safe to do so, he stopped long enough to pull off some of his clothing, and after that he made better headway. He knew when the sailors tumbled into the yawl, and he saw Pete and Barr when they pushed their canoe out from the shadow of the pier and joined in the pursuit. When he caught sight of the Firefly bearing down upon him, he felt a thrill of exultation. He had never doubted that he should escape if he got a fair chance to make the attempt, and now he was positive that that coaster would not take him to Cuba. He recognized the schooner, and knew that if he could make Enoch hear him, his escape was assured. Enoch had never been a friend of his, but Don knew that in a case like this he would fight for him as long as he had strength enough to stand on his feet. By doing some of his best swimming he succeeded in crossing the schooner’s bows, and then he hailed her in tones just loud enough to reach the ears of the boys he saw on her deck, but not loud enough to show his pursuers where he was. The second hail pointed out his position, and brought him the rope by which he was hauled on board the Firefly.
This was the substance of the story that Don told Jones and Enoch as he sat in the cock-pit, while the latter was steering his vessel off through the dark to get away from the coaster. The only portions of it he omitted were those that related to Lester Brigham’s complicity in his abduction. He thought his rescuers knew nothing about it, and he did not mean that they should hear of it from him. Bert was the only one he would ever take into his confidence. There were no secrets between him and Bert now.
“You have had a time of it, that’s a fact,” said Enoch, when Don paused. “I have often heard of men being shanghaied and made to do duty as foremast hands, but this is the first instance of the kind that ever came under my personal observation. Your Harlequin business came in good play, didn’t it?”
“Who is it that says that every bit of knowledge we possess will be of use to us some day, if we only wait long enough?” said Don, in reply. “I know that little things I have picked up at odd times, have often come handy to me.”