"Sho' no, I don't at all, Cap'n Haley," answered the mate, with a.s.surance. "See here,"-and he a.s.sumed a more civil, urgent tone,-"I want to get clear of that young chap just as bad as you do, Mister Haley; but I jes' don't like to see him go ash.o.r.e now, cause there ain't nothin' but ma'sh land hereabouts, and I know he'd starve to death, or drown. And I reckon Jim Adams owes him that much, to see as he's put ash.o.r.e where he can get away, somehow. That's all I want. Wait till we get down into Virginny, Mister Haley, and I won't make no trouble-but I guess you and I will fight pretty bad if he has to go here."

The mate's manner was both threatening and wheedling. Clearly, he had no fear of Haley. It was man against man. Haley waited some moments, eying the mate as if to read his mind. Evidently what he saw, in the snapping eyes that returned his gaze, convinced him that Jim Adams was not to be turned aside without a struggle.

"All right," he said, "but I'll get square for it. Let your anchor go.

Come aboard here, you men. We'll get our wood down yonder. Drop those sails and turn in."

Sullenly, leaving the mate to make all snug, Haley went below. Jim Adams, turning his eyes upon Henry Burns as the boy slipped down into the forecastle, muttered softly to himself. He had a queer kind of cold-blooded logic, had Jim Adams.

"There," he said, "you and I am square, young fellow. You saved my life, and now I've saved yours. That makes us even, I reckon. The next time, I guess you'll have to go ash.o.r.e."

Into this bay and out again, the course of the Brandt now continued, as the sloop Mollie traced it later. A vessel that pa.s.sed here and there, despite Haley's precautions, sufficed to give the clues he fain would have hid. There is fate in all things, and it was Haley's now to leave an open trail where he sought concealment. He ran to Smith Island, and the Mollie got trace of him there. He sailed southward, and the Virginia line was not so many miles away. Of an evening, as darkness was shutting down, he perceived far astern a sloop coming in his wake. He noticed it, but gave it little thought. He had one other idea in his mind, and that overshadowed all else. The boy that was a peril to him must be gotten rid of.

The Brandt was running free, with the wind directly astern-a fresh evening breeze that was sending her along at a fair clip. Hamilton Haley had the wheel. Jim Adams was below. Sam Black was on deck, forward. Henry Burns was on deck. Wallace Brooks was on deck. Haley watched and waited.

By and by, Brooks stepped to the companion and went below. Haley called to Henry Burns. There was a tangle of gear near the after-house.

"Here you, youngster, straighten out that line and coil it up neat,"

ordered Haley. Henry Burns went to work. Haley stood silently by the wheel. The minutes pa.s.sed, and Henry Burns worked on. His back was toward the captain.

The booms were out on the starboard side. Watching the boy sharply, Haley stooped and grasped the main-sheet, and drew it in a little. The main-sail shivered, as the breeze caught it slightly aback. Cautiously, Haley put the helm up a trifle; the bug-eye headed more to the starboard, and the sail shivered still more. Henry Burns, intent upon his work, however, failed to notice the manuvre.

Then the main-sheet slackened suddenly in Haley's hand, as the boom started to swing inboard. Haley dropped the sheet and put the helm hard up. Swiftly the heavy boom jibed across the stern. Haley ducked his head as it swung past. The change of motion in the vessel was now apparent to Henry Burns. One glance, and he saw the shadow of the sail as the boom crashed upon him, with a swiftness he could not evade. He had barely time to dodge when the boom caught him, grazing the top of his head and hurling him overboard into the icy water. He had saved his life, but he was momentarily stunned-and the bug-eye, Brandt, was disappearing in the darkness when he came to his senses, choking, and stinging with the slap of the winter seas.

The bug-eye swerved and laid over, with the jibing of the booms. But the wind was not heavy; the sheets held, and Haley had her on her course in another moment.

Henry Burns's smothered cry was unheard save by Haley. It was not until another hour, when the Brandt rounded to in Somers cove, that the boy's loss was discovered. Jim Adams, hardened as he was, faced Haley solemnly.

"Mister Haley," he said, "I've seen you pay two men the wages that was due them, with that ere main-boom, since I've been aboard this craft, and they was not much account; but sure I think we'll have bad luck now, 'cause we could have got rid of that youngster without that."

For better or worse luck, however, the bug-eye Brandt made snug for the night. There was a good berth to lie in; it was a quiet night, with only a gentle breeze blowing. A lantern was set in the shrouds, and all hands turned.

Henry Burns, knocked overboard by the blow of the boom, sank in the chilling water, then rose again. He was not badly injured, but was choking with the water he had swallowed. He had strength enough to cry out only feebly. There was no salvation in that. He husbanded his strength and struck out, to keep himself afloat. Fortunately, he was not enc.u.mbered with oil skins, or he would have sunk.

Terror seized him; there seemed to be no chance for life in the darkness.

Yet he struggled to keep afloat. Then the shadow of some object came before his eyes. It was a small cask, rolled off the deck of the Brandt as she had heeled with the jibing of the boom. Henry Burns grasped it, as it floated close, and clasped his arms over it. It sufficed to float him, with the most of his body under water. It was a forlorn hope, yet he clung with desperation.

Minutes that seemed like hours pa.s.sed. His hold slipped, as his fingers became numbed. He gave a cry of despair, struggled with all his strength and regained his hold. Again he clung for what seemed to him hours. But his strength was waning. The cold was robbing him of strength-of life. In despair, he cried aloud again and again, over the waste of waters. He could not hold out longer.

Then, out of the blackness there came a rushing sound, as of some large body moving through the waves-and then-an answering call.

A cry from the blackness of the sea! Will Adams, at the wheel of the Mollie, felt his hair rise on end. Jack Harvey, forward, on watch, felt the cold perspiration stand out all over him. It seemed something unearthly-impossible.

But the cry came again, and again. The sloop headed in the direction of the sound, and there came into view the vague figure, floating, clinging to the cask. They drew the castaway aboard presently-and then Jack Harvey set up a shout that almost reached to Haley's bug-eye.

"Henry Burns!"

They had him down in the warm cabin in a twinkling, and between blankets, with hot drink to restore his strength. Edward Warren fairly wept for joy and relief from anxiety. The Warrens and Jack Harvey tried hard to keep the tears from their eyes, but didn't all succeed. Will Adams stood by the wheel, but called for news every moment from the rescued one, and fairly shouted with exultation when Henry Burns gave the tidings that the Brandt was just ahead, making for Somers Cove.

They turned the point and stood into the harbour. The sight that greeted their eyes made their blood tingle. Under the lee of Long Point, there lay a vessel at anchor, betrayed by its harbour light.

"It's the Brandt," exclaimed Harvey, as they neared it.

But, even as they spilled the wind from their sails, luffing, to consider their plan of attack, there came voices from the Brandt, and two men appeared on deck. So, to avoid suspicion, the Mollie ran in past the Brandt for some rods, and came to anchor ahead of her. Quickly, sails were made snug and lights doused in the cabin, a single small lantern being set for a harbour light. Then the crew of the Mollie gathered for a conference in the cabin.

Jack Harvey, eager to be avenged for his wrongs, was for standing over boldly and attacking the bug-eye then and there; but Will Adams and Edward Warren, older and wiser, were for waiting.

"We'll never let him sail away," said Will Adams, rea.s.suringly; "depend on that. But every minute we wait, saves a blow. They may be suspicious for a while, but they'll not watch all night."

"But how can we reach them without giving warning?" asked Tom Edwards.

"They'll hear us if we try to make sail, and one small skiff won't hold us all."

Will Adams pulled out his watch and noted the time. "In two hours it will be easy," he answered. "In two hours the tide will begin to ebb out of the river. We're above the Brandt. When the tide turns, we'll just start the anchor off bottom and drop back on her. Get out the guns and make ready-but be quiet."

They worked silently, and watched the hands of Will Adams's watch move slowly around the dial. It seemed as though an hour would never go. Sixty more long minutes, and, as Will Adams had foretold, the vessels were swinging. Now their bows were no longer pointing out of the cove, but up-river.

Will Adams, in stocking feet, crept cautiously out on deck and extinguished the harbour light in the shrouds.

"We'll see if they take notice of that," he whispered, as he crept back again.

There was no sound of life aboard the Brandt, which swung idly at its mooring.

Gathering his force now, Will Adams instructed them in the parts each should play. He sent Jack Harvey astern to the wheel.

"You know how to steer her when she's going astern?" he asked-"Just the reverse of the usual way."

"Sure, I know," replied Harvey, and crept to his post.

Edward Warren, armed with a rifle, and the others, carrying the equipment of shot-guns, took up their positions on the companion stairs, ready to rush out at the word. At the top, a dangerous post, crouched George Warren, holding a coil of rope, one end of which had been made fast to the foremast. Will Adams stole forward and slowly hauled in on the anchor-rode. The Mollie went ahead, leaving a greater distance between herself and the Brandt.

All at once, however, she began to drift slowly back again. Will Adams had the anchor off bottom. Harvey turned the wheel slightly, this way and that. The Mollie was dropping down upon the Brandt.

Gently the stern of the sloop grazed along the side of the bug-eye.

George Warren leaped upon the deck of the Brandt and made fast the line about its foremast. Will Adams, running aft, s.n.a.t.c.hed up a boat-hook, and, with that in his right hand and holding a revolver in his left, stepped aboard the Brandt. The boys, under orders, ranged themselves quickly on the deck of the sloop, crouching low, holding the shot-guns.

Almost at the moment, there came darting from the cabin of the Brandt a lithe, powerful figure, while the voice of Jim Adams called to Haley to follow him. But he was a moment too late. Will Adams, swinging the boat-hook, felled the negro with a single blow, stunning him.

Capt. Hamilton Haley, tumbling up from the cabin, half dressed, found himself staring into the muzzle of Edward Warren's rifle. He dropped the weapon he carried, at the sharp command, seeing himself covered.

The crew of the Brandt, not over-loyal to Haley at best, showed no inclination to fight, under the range of fire from a battery of shot-guns. They called out, in fear, that they would give up.

They came forward, one by one, and submitted to being bound by Jack Harvey, who performed that function in good sailor fashion.

But when it came to Hamilton Haley, Harvey found himself pushed aside.

Tom Edwards stood before him.

"Jack, old fellow," said Tom Edwards, blithely, "let me have the satisfaction of tying up that brute that made me slave at the dredges."

"But you don't know how," protested Harvey.