"So the boats pursued the seals for a long distance, and in the excitement n.o.body noticed what the weather was doing. n.o.body, that is, but Shavings, and he didn't dare to say that it was growing worse, for fear of angering the mate. The hunters harpooned a goodly catch before the gale was upon the little fleet almost without warning.

"Then the storm broke with a screech and a ma.s.sing of angry water. The boats had been under sail, and in a flash two of them were over-turned.

Shavings saw all this with terror in his eyes and a cold clutch at his heart. He knew the men in those boats would never go sealing again.

"Then his eyes fell on the mate, Olaf Olsen. The man appeared to be petrified with fright. He made no move to do anything. Then something in Shavings seemed to wake up.

"Perhaps that yellow hair of his was a survival of some old Viking strain, or perhaps all those months of rough sea life had made him over without his knowing it. But he seized the mate and shook him by the shoulder:

"'Give an order, man!' he shouted. 'Order the sail reefed.'

"But the sight of the death of his shipmates had so unnerved the mate that he could no nothing. Shavings kicked him disgustedly, and went about the job himself. Clouds of spray burst over him. Time and again he was within an inch of being swept overboard, but at last he had the sail reefed down. Then he took the tiller and headed back for the schooner across the immense seas through the screeching gale.

"He handled that boat skillfully, meeting the big seas and riding their summits, only to be buried the next instant in the watery valley between the giant combers. But always he rose. He had the cheering sight of the schooner before him and it grew closer. The boat sailed more on her beam than on her keel, but at last Shavings, more dead than alive, ran her in under the lee of the schooner's hull, and willing hands got the survivors out of the boat.

"The skipper of that craft was a rough man. He drove Olaf Olsen forward with blows and curses and the strong Swede whimpered like a whipped cur.

Then he came aft to where the cook was giving Shavings and the rest hot coffee.

"'Shavings,' he said, 'after this you're mate in that coward Olsen's place. You're a man.'

"'No, sirree,' rejoined Shavings, 'I'm a farmer. No mate's job for me.

When we gets back ter home I'm goin' ter take my share uv ther catch and buy a farm.'

"But he was finally persuaded to take the job of mate when his canny New England mind grasped the fact that the mate's share of the profits is much bigger than a foremast hand's. He was as good as his word, however, and, when the _Janet Barry_, with her flag at half mast but her hold full of fine skins, docked at St. Johns after the season was over, Shavings drew his money and vanished. I suppose he is farming it somewhere in Vermont now, but I agree with his captain, who told me the story, that there was a fine sailor lost in Shavings."

CHAPTER XIII.

A NIGHT ALARM.

Jack sat bolt upright in bed and listened with all his might. Outside the window of the little room he occupied that night in the captain's cottage he was almost certain he had heard the sound of a furtive footfall and whisperings. His blood beat in his ear-drums as he sat tense and rigid, waiting a repet.i.tion of the noise.

Suddenly, there came a low whisper from outside.

"If only we knew if the captain was alone. For all we know those bothersome boys may be with him, and, if they are, we are likely to get the worst of it."

"Donald Judson!" exclaimed Jack to himself. "What ought I to do?"

He pondered a moment and then recollected that there was a door to his room which let directly out on a back porch without the occupant of the room having to traverse any other chamber. Jack at once formed a bold resolve. He did not wish to arouse the others unnecessarily, but he did want, with all his power, to find out what was going on.

He rose from the bed as cautiously as he could, and made his way to the door. It was a ticklish task, in the dark, to accomplish without noise, but he succeeded in doing it. Outside it was very dark, with a velvety sort of blackness. The boy was glad of this, for it afforded him protection from the men he felt sure were reconnoitering the house for no good purpose.

Suddenly he saw, not far off, the gleam of a light of some sort. If it belonged to the Judsons, they must have presumed that n.o.body was about, or not have realized that the place where they had left it was visible from the cottage.

"Now I wonder what they've got up there?" mused Jack. "Maybe it would be a good scheme to go up and see."

Anything that looked like an adventure aroused Jack's animation, and a few seconds after the idea had first taken hold of him he was making his way up a rather steep hillside, covered with rocks and bushes, toward the light. At last he reached a place where he could get a good look at the shining beacon. He hardly knew what he had expected to see, but somehow he felt a sort of sense of disappointment.

The lantern stood by itself on a rock and the idea suggested itself to Jack that it might have been placed there as a beacon to guide the midnight visitors back when they had accomplished whatever they purposed doing.

"I've a good mind to carry off their lantern," said Jack to himself; "if they put it there to guide them that would leave them in a fine fix and we could easily capture them."

Once more, half involuntarily, his feet appeared to draw him toward the lantern. The next instant he had it in his grasp.

"Now to turn it out," he muttered, when he felt himself seized from behind in a powerful grip and a harsh voice growled in his ear:

"Yer would, would yer, you precious young scallywag."

The lantern was wrested from his grasp, and Jack felt a noose slipped over his head.

"Who are you?" he demanded indignantly of his unknown captor.

"Bill Smiggers, of the motor boat _Black Beauty_," was the gruff reply.

"They left me up here to watch by the light, and I guess they'll be glad they did when they see who I've caught. I reckon you're one of those snoopy kids I've heard them talking about."

"I don't know what you mean," replied Jack, "but you'd better let me go at once."

"Huh, I'd be a fine softy to do that, wouldn't I? No, young man, here you are, and here you stay. I'm getting well paid for this job, and I'm going to do a good one."

Just then footsteps were heard coming up the hillside. Then a low, cautious voice whispered out of the darkness:

"What's the matter, Bill? We saw the light waved, and came right back.

Is there any danger?"

"Not right now, I reckon," rejoined Bill, with grim humor. "Any of you gents know this young bantam I've got triced up here?"

"Jack Ready, by all that's wonderful!" cried Judson, stepping forward.

He was followed by young Judson and Jarrow.

"Dear me, what an--er--what a pleasant encounter," grinned Jarrow.

"So you thought you'd spy on us, did you?" snarled Donald, vindictively; "well, this is the time that we've got you and got you right."

Jack's heart, stout as it was, sank like lead within him. He was in the hands of his enemies and that, largely, by his own foolishness.

"So this is that Ready kid I hearn you talkin' about?" asked Bill.

"That's the boy, confound him! He's always meddling in my schemes,"

growled Jarrow.

"Bright looking lad, ain't he?"

"Too bright for his own good. He's so sharp he'll cut himself."

"No, his brightness won't help him now," chuckled Donald maliciously.

"I'll bet you're scared to death," he went on, coming close to Jack.