Chapter IV: Part 4

Balancing himself and keeping the nose of the little boat from thumping the cruiser was a job that required skill, but Terry, concentrating every nerve, managed to do it. He knew that if any one suddenly opened the companionway door he would be lost, for a flood of light would instantly give him away. If that emergency came he was determined to push off and row for the shore with all his strength. When he got to the rail of the cruiser he slipped the rope around a support and breathlessly stepped onto the small afterdeck.

It was one of the hardest jobs he had ever done in his life. The cruiser was light and weight, placed in the wrong place, would surely make it tip enough for those inside to realize that something or someone was aboard that had no business there. The chances were that the deck was tight enough to keep from creaking under his steps, but he had to look out for loose ropes or any other thing which might be underfoot. It was with a rapidly beating heart that Terry stood on the deck of the cruiser, listening intently for sounds, ready to take to flight at an instant’s notice. But after a few seconds, during which a low murmuring of voices from inside reached him, he came to the conclusion that nothing was likely to happen at the moment and he crept slowly and carefully to the starboard side of the cruiser, toward the strip of deck and the window which showed on that side.

Here again he had to be careful that his weight did not careen the boat, but fortunately for him the cruiser had been built broadly and it would have taken someone with greater weight than Terry Mackson to have tipped it. He gained the narrow deck and went down on his hands and knees, creeping along until he was underneath the window. Then, with infinite care, he thrust his head forward inch by inch and looked in the window.

Benito and Frank were playing cards at a small table. Both men, with cigars in mouth, were intent on the game. Beside them, on a bunk, lay the lighthouse keeper, or so Terry judged, for the man, who was tall and thin, was tied to the bunk and at the present moment lay looking sullenly up at the roof of the cabin.

Evidently Frank had won, for he pocketed some money with a grin, while Benito pushed the cards from him with a savage growl. The leader picked the cards up and placed them in a dirty box and Frank looked at his watch.

“Guess Marcy ain’t coming,” he said, looking inquiringly at the big man. “What are we going to do?”

“We’ll go on down without him,” decided Benito. “Something must have come up that kept him. We might as well get back to the hide-out before somebody comes prowling around. No use in getting caught with him on our hands.” He jerked his thumb toward the man on the bunk, who turned and glared at him.

“The government’ll fix you for this, you’ll see,” the captive lighthouse keeper shrilled.

“Aw, dry up,” snorted the leader of the gang. “If you hadn’t put up such a holler because we tried to walk off with your brass telescope you wouldn’t be here. Lucky thing I dragged you away from that telephone, or you’d have the country down on us.”

“I will yet,” shouted the keeper. “Stealin’ government property and kidnappin’ a lighthouse keeper is a pretty serious crime. See what you get out of it.”

Frank looked at the big man. “What he says is true,” he muttered. “What are we going to do with the old fool?”

Benito shrugged his shoulders impatiently. “Don’t know yet. We’ll have to drop him somewhere far down the shore.” He got up quickly. “Let’s get underway.”

So great had been Terry’s interest that he had not stopped to consider that he would not have time to get away, but he realized it now. It was but one step from the cabin to the afterdeck and before he could move Frank had made that step. Terry groaned inwardly, not so much because he felt that he would be seen at once as from the realization that the rowboat would be discovered. He waited for the shout that would herald the discovery, but it did not come, and in another moment the throb of the cruiser’s engine came to him as he lay there face downward on the narrow deck.

Later on he discovered that the thing which prevented his immediate discovery was the fact that he had but loosely roped the painter of the rowboat, and that it had slipped off and drifted away while he was listening to the conversation at the window. But at the time he was not even wondering, but was thinking seriously of escape. He could slip overboard and swim away, trusting to luck to remain hidden in the darkness long enough for them to get away on their run to their hiding place. The shore was not far off and he would have no difficulty in reaching it. But as he swiftly reflected upon his difficult position, he resolved to see it through and go with the bandits to their secret retreat.

The men evidently had some secret place to which they could retreat in case of a general hunt, and to find that place was worth the risk that he might run. Another thought was the fact that he did not wish to abandon the lighthouse keeper. He might be able to go for help later on and so be of great value to the man who was tied up inside. These thoughts shot rapidly through Terry’s head as he lay there in the darkness, and awaited the turn of events.

With a speed that was breath-taking the cruiser began to forge ahead, and Frank, turning the little wheel at the top of the low cabin, sent it out to sea in a wide arc. The sharp bow of the cruiser hissed into the tiny waves like a hot iron, and the water, in long, graceful and curling billows, raced smoothly past the side. Benito went out on the deck and joined the smaller man and they talked together in low tones as the cruiser began its journey down the coast.

From where Terry lay he could still see in the window and he watched the captive on the bunk. As soon as Benito had left the room the man began to wrench at his bonds, but after ten minutes of futile effort he gave it up and settled back on the bunk with a groan of despair and rage.

Terry was fairly comfortable where he was but his chief fear was that either one of the men might look over the edge of the cabin and ruin his plans. But in all the time required to run ten miles down the coast neither of them looked in his direction, and Terry was carried securely onward.

They were now before a wild section of the country. There was not a light to be seen along the shore and the only sound, other than the steady and powerful throb of the marine engine, was the hollow boom of the huge waves on the shore. Terry judged by the sound that there was some shoal near the shore which accounted for the booming sound, for he had read of such things. And then his thoughts were diverted by the fact that Frank was throttling down the engine and swinging the cruiser around toward the shore.

Little as Terry knew about sailing it nevertheless puzzled him as to why the engine should be shut down while so far from the shore, for he knew that they could not possibly drift in that distance. While he puzzled over this the answer was suddenly presented to him.

Something huge and black rose up alongside the cruiser and Terry very nearly cried out in astonishment. It was two or three full minutes before the explanation came to him. They were moored beside the wreck of a huge old ship, one which had been hard and fast aground for years, and because it was in this lonely stretch of beach it had never been burned or destroyed, except by the slow action of the waves. Frank was tying the bow of the cruiser to the splintered rail of the ship, and passing close to Terry while doing so. The task completed, Frank jumped to the deck and called to Benito.

“All tied up, boss,” he said. “Shall we lug that old boy aboard?”

Benito gave gruff orders and the keeper, protesting and a little frightened, was lifted from the bunk and carried out on deck. He was somewhat roughly shoved over the rotting rail of the wreck and the two bandits followed him. For another minute Terry could hear their voices and then all became still.

He raised himself slowly, realizing for the first time that he was stiff and sore. Waiting for an instant to be sure that the men would not return for something, and finding at last that they apparently had no intention of doing so, Terry stood up and surveyed the old ship before him. He did not fully realize just what type it was, but it was a three-masted schooner of the old type, long and low, with splintered stumps of masts and broken wood littering the decks in every direction. Although it had been battered fearfully by the waves it had nevertheless been sturdy enough to resist total destruction, and as it was practically certain that no one ever visited it, it was indeed an ideal hide-away for the gang.

Terry was at first tempted to steal the boat of the gang and run back down the coast to summon aid, and could have done so had he known how to run the thing, but he knew that he could not and so gave the project up. The only thing left for him was to do some further spying and see just what the inside of the schooner looked like. To try landing on an uninhabited coast was pure folly, and as the future was uncertain he decided that his best move lay in inspecting the craft. Accordingly, he stepped from the cabin roof to the deck of the schooner, noting as he did so that it had been named the _Alaskan_ in the days of its pride and glory.

There was a large cabin in the very center of the schooner and toward it Terry made his way, stepping carefully over wreckage which littered the deck in every direction. He doubted if the men were in that particular cabin, for there was no light, but as there was pretty certain to be a good-sized hold under the ship he concluded that the actual place of concealment was there. At the doorway of the cabin he halted and looked around, but no one was in sight and he made his way down three steps, coming at last to the floor. It was wet and slippery but perfectly firm, and treading carefully Terry made his way toward another door which he could see at the other end of the cabin. A faint light shone through this door and he knew he was close to the nest which the outlaw band had made.

When he gained this door he found a new and safe ladder leading down into a large hold that took up much of the space of the ship. At the far end of this hold a small room had been partitioned off, and from this room a lantern sent its rays out into the big, barn-like hold. Terry crossed the hold, conscious of the lapping of water against the sides of the ship, and looked into the smaller room.

Benito and Frank were seated before a table, and the old lady who had been at the house on Mystery Island was setting some meat and potatoes before them. Terry had never seen the woman himself, but he was sure it was the same one from Don’s description of her. The keeper was sitting in a chair bound and apparently awaiting his turn to eat with sullen grace. From time to time Benito, who seemed in high spirits, turned to joke with his captive, but Timothy received all his advances with grunts and disagreeable faces, all of which amused the leader hugely.

Pressing back into the shadow Terry began to form plans for the rescue of the keeper. The schooner was large and he could hide away until the men were asleep and then, with the aid of the knife which he had in his pocket, he could liberate the keeper and they could make a dash for liberty. He would have to be careful in his prowling around the big ship, for it might be full of pit-holes which would seriously hinder his work. When he had rescued the keeper they could plan a way to escape, and possibly capture the gang. Of course there would be difficulties, but—

A step sounded behind him and he whirled swiftly. But before he could do anything else a heavy hand fell on his shoulder and a man stepped out into the light. He was a heavy set man with a dirty, half-bearded face, and just now there was a leer of triumphant satisfaction on it. It was the man Marcy, the third member of the gang.

“So!” shouted Terry’s captor. “What are you doing here, young fellow?”

_15. The River Barge_

Surprised as Terry was by the unexpected attack from the rear he nevertheless lost no time in getting into action. A second of numbed surprise took possession of him, and then, as he heard Frank and Benito jump to their feet, he pitched savagely at Marcy. A short-distance blow in the ribs almost doubled the man up and he grunted loudly, but his grip on the red-headed boy was not loosened. Twisting rapidly in the man’s grasp Terry tried to break away, but before he could wrench his coat free the others were upon him. They recognized him at once and lost no time in overpowering him. Flat on his back went the boy, with the three men sprawling over him.

“Let up!” gasped Terry, half smothered. “I know when I’m out of order!”

The men scrambled from him and Benito jerked him roughly to his feet. “What are you doing here?” snarled the leader, thrusting his face close to Terry’s.

“Had no intention of staying,” panted Terry. “In fact, I was leaving when this fellow insisted upon my staying.”

“Don’t be funny, young fellow,” thundered Benito. “Come in here, where we can see you.”

Roughly propelled by a shove Terry shot into the smaller room and the men gathered around him. “Now, out with it,” commanded the leader. “How did you get here?”

“I was out rowing and I stepped aboard your boat, which brought me here,” said Terry. “All the way from the lighthouse.”

“Spying on us, eh? Well, young fellow, it will be a sorry night’s work for you.” Benito glared at him. “Where are the others?”

“Still at the lighthouse, I’m afraid,” confessed Terry.

Benito turned to Marcy. “Where did you come from?”

“Been on the boat all night, boss,” explained the other. “I didn’t go up the line at all. I was back in the old cook galley when I heard you come on board, and when I came in this way I saw this boy standing back in the shadows, so I jumped him.”

“Lucky thing you did,” put in Frank. “We’re having entirely too much trouble with these kids.”

“But we won’t have any more with this one,” promised Benito, grimly. “Put him in the cell.”

“I suppose it is no use trying to bluff you fellows into letting me go,” said Terry. “But I’m warning you that you’ll get in big trouble for this.”

“That’s right, young fellow,” cried the lighthouse keeper, who was an interested onlooker. “We’ll make things warm for these boys once we get loose.”

“You’d better worry as to when you’ll be loose first,” sneered Benito. “Put him away, Frank.”

Frank opened a small door at the back of the room and Terry was pushed into a black cell. The door slammed shut and he heard a lock snapped. He was a prisoner on the old wreck.

Without loss of time he explored the small room in which he found himself and was at once convinced of the idea that escape was impossible. The cell was only a cubbyhole, with no opening anywhere, and the only article of furniture was a single chair. When he had become fully aware of his helplessness he went back to the door, and applying his ears to a crack, listened to the conversation of the men.

“Going to put him on the barge, eh?” he heard Marcy say.

“Yes,” answered Benito. “I’ll tell the captain to take him a good two hundred miles up the river and turn him loose. By the time he gets anywhere and joins his friends we’ll be out of the country and safe.”

Terry judged that they were talking about him and he listened for further details, but the conversation drifted off into other channels and none of it concerned him. After a time the men finished their meal, fed the keeper and then took him away somewhere. It was evident that there was a bunk room somewhere on the ship for the gang, for they put out the light in the next room and went away. A silence, broken only by the slapping of the waves against the wreck, settled down over the place.

He made a few more efforts to escape, but all of them were in vain. The door was solid and resisted all his efforts, and there was no other outlet to the cell. Convinced finally that all effort would be useless, Terry at last surrendered to the inevitable and went to sleep on the floor.

He was tired and slept soundly in spite of the hardness of his bed and he was finally aroused by the rattling of the lock on the door. He had gotten very hungry and he hoped that food was being brought to him, but when Benito and Frank opened the door their hands were empty. He faced them defiantly, awaiting the next move.

“Good morning, son,” greeted Benito. “Nice day, don’t you think?”

“Is it?” inquired Terry. “I haven’t had my morning walk yet, so I really can’t agree with you.”

“You’ll get your morning walk right now,” chuckled the leader. “Come along with us.”

“Where are you taking me?” demanded Terry.

“You’ll find out in a minute. Hurry up, we haven’t any time to waste.”

Knowing that resistance was useless Terry followed the men through the wreck and climbed the ladder to the deck. It was broad daylight and he judged it to be about seven o’clock. The day was not brilliant but the light was good, a smudgy sort of a sun peering out from behind the clouds. Terry looked anxiously over the water but there was no sign of any craft in sight except a dirty-looking barge which was moored to the side of the wreck. This barge was a large, sprawling affair, with weatherbeaten planks and a single raised cabin forward, from which a smoke stack protruded. Black smoke was pouring from the stack. A single companionway led down into the hold of the barge. Benito stepped to the side of the wreck and hailed an old man who was leaning against the doorway of the barge cabin.

“Hey, Ryder! Here’s your passenger!”

The captain of the barge, an evil-looking old man with white hair and long side whiskers, took a black pipe out of his mouth long enough to shout back: “Hurry up and put him aboard. I haven’t any time to lose.”

“Jump down there on deck,” directed Benito. “Lively, now.”

Terry obediently jumped down over the rail onto the deck of the barge and faced its captain. He looked briefly at the boy and then looked up at Benito.

“What do you want done with this boy?” he growled.

“Take him as far up the river as you are going and let him go,” replied the leader. “If he gets fresh, use your own judgment.”

The captain looked contemptuously at Terry. “If I hear one word out of him I’ll stretch him out with a marlinspike. That all you want me for?”

“Yes,” nodded Benito. “You do that and I’ll see that you get what is coming to you.”

The captain of the barge looked over his shoulder and into the cabin. “Get up steam, Tod,” he called. “You, Maxwell, cast off.”

A lumbering big man appeared out of the barge cabin and cast off from the wreck. Someone inside started a thumping engine. After having cast off Maxwell went to the clumsy tiller and steered the barge away from the wreck.

“Look here,” challenged Terry, to the captain, “if you don’t want to get into trouble you had better let me go.”

The captain looked him over briefly. “Get down below deck and help the cook,” he commanded, and turning on his heel, went into the cabin.

All thought of leaping overboard and swimming ashore was out of the question for the mate Maxwell was keeping a sharp eye on him, so Terry went down the short ladder into the ill-smelling hold of the barge. He found that it had been used for carrying bricks but was now empty. In the cook’s galley he found the cook, a tall, thin fellow with the air of a country farmer. The cook nodded briefly.

“Hello, bub. You’re the new passenger, eh? Had anything to eat?”

“No,” answered Terry, and studied the man before him. The cook was only about twenty-five years old, and had a rather kindly, simple face, which habitually wore a serious look. The man did not look like one of the river men and Terry decided that he might find help here.

The cook bustled around and got him some breakfast, talking all the while. Terry liked him more and more as the time went on, and afterwards he helped him clean up the galley.

“My name’s Jed Dale,” the cook told him. “Used to farm upstate a ways, but things got poor and I shipped on this here barge to go cook. I wish to goodness I was back on a farm again. We carry brick all winter and just now we’re goin’ to tie up at Summerdale for overhauling. How’d you get aboard?”

Terry told the man the truth, figuring to get the best results by doing so, and he was not disappointed. The cook shook his head when he heard the story.

“There’ll be big trouble when this is known,” he advanced. “I always cal’lated this outfit was more or less crooked. I’m signed with ’em for another year, but I sure would like to slip out and go back farming.”

“Then why don’t you?” urged Terry. “You have every right to break your contract because this bunch is not on the level. The very fact that they are kidnapping me is enough to get all hands in serious trouble. Help me to escape, and incidentally get yourself out of a bad mess.”

But the cook shook his head sadly. “You don’t know this Captain Ryder, or you wouldn’t talk so foolish,” he said. “A terrible man, this captain. Nobody dares to stand up to him. No, sonny, I couldn’t think of nothing so crazy as that.”

All of Terry’s arguments failed to move the cook and at length the boy went on deck to look around. The barge was slowly steaming up a broad but deserted river, the banks of which were thickly lined with dense trees and bushes. Terry reflected that had there been the slightest chance of escape he would gladly plunge overboard and attempt it, but he was never allowed out of sight of the three men who ran the barge. The engineer, Todd, was a short, black-bearded man with a sullen expression, a fitting member of the crew of the barge.

After the evening meal something happened which won the cook to Terry’s side completely. The three men were on deck smoking, the captain sitting on a capstan, the engineer at the door of the cabin, and Maxwell at the tiller. Jed was below and Terry, who had wasted no words on the three men, was silently gazing shoreward, wondering what his friends must think of his absence. Realizing that he was each moment drifting further and further away he found his patience and temper hard to control, but knowing that any rash act on his part would make things harder, he waited with what resignation he could for some shift in his fortunes.

Jed came up on deck to empty a bucket of bilge water over the stern, and passing the morose captain, nervously spilled some of it near him. It splashed his trousers and one boot, causing the cook to tremble violently. A mean look crossed the face of the old captain, and he raised his boot, and launched an ugly kick at the cook.

But Terry was too fast for him. He caught the foot before it connected with the dumb-stricken cook and diverted it enough to make the skipper miss his aim. And as the captain jumped to his feet, his gray eyes aflame, Terry clenched his fists and faced him firmly.

“I’ll break your neck, you meddling young soft baby!” roared the captain, raising his knotted fist.

Terry’s blood was up, for he hated cowardice with all his being. “You just try it!” he fairly hissed. “Go ahead, if you think it wise.” Suddenly he dropped his fists and stood face to face with the barge captain. “Do whatever you like, but I won’t hit you back. You’re an old man, and I wouldn’t hit an old man. But if you were twenty years younger and you tried to carry out your threat, I’d do my best to lick the ugliness out of you. I know I’d do it, too, because anybody can lick a bully and a coward. So go ahead and break my neck!”

The captain and his mates stared in amazement at the firm jaw and calm eyes of the red-headed boy. The captain swore loudly.

“You’d lick me if—if I wasn’t an old man!” he yelled with rage.

“You bet I would! But I’d be ashamed to hit an old man who is so wicked that he doesn’t know what he’s doing. I wish you were younger and I’d make you make good on that grandstand threat!”

The captain was not troubled with his heart, but it certainly looked as though he was. He seemed to be on the point of hitting the boy, but at last, muttering between his teeth, he walked into the cabin. The two mates gazed after him in speechless wonder. Terry walked quietly down into the galley and the cook followed him, dazed.

“You stood up to him!” the cook exulted, over and over again. “By gosh!” Suddenly he smote Terry on the back. “Sonny, I’m with you! Let’s get off this old scow.”

They put their heads together and for the next half hour they made plans. At length, lighting his pipe and trembling with excitement, the cook went on deck and looked all around. The captain and Maxwell were nowhere in sight and Todd sat at the tiller, idly gazing at the shore. Jed Dale looked up and down the river and then returned to the galley.

“The sand bar I told you about is just two hundred yards ahead,” he whispered.

“Good!” nodded Terry. “Are you all ready?”

“Yes,” replied the cook, nervously wiping his hands on his coat.

“Then let’s get going,” said Terry, pulling his belt tighter.

_16. An Important Clue_

To Don’s statement that Terry had disappeared the captain gave an astonished shout and hastened to join the brothers. Don and Jim explained once more how they had been all over the point without seeing anything of the missing boy. The captain was equally certain that Terry had not come back into the station, and with this new problem confronting them the three friends left the lighthouse and made a thorough search of the point.

But as Don and Jim had said there was no trace of the red-headed boy. They found the prints of the footsteps in the mud leading down to the other side of the rock, and Jim was sure that one of the prints at least was Terry’s, but that was the extent of their findings. They stood on the rock dock and looked out over the water.

“This beats all,” the captain muttered, in perplexity. “We know that he went this far and then we don’t know nothing else. I’ve got too good an opinion of that boy’s common sense to think for a minute that he jumped overboard.”

“Yes,” nodded Jim, seriously. “He wouldn’t have done that, unless there was a good reason for it. But apparently the lighthouse keeper went the same way as Terry did. I wonder what it all means? Someone in a boat must have been waiting for Terry and carried him off.”

“I don’t see how that could be,” Don said. “No one even knew that we were coming.”

“Probably not. But it does look as though the keeper was carried off to sea, and Terry must have wandered down here, too. Somebody may have hailed him and taken him off in a boat, though I don’t see why he went without telling us about it.”

“Far as that goes,” observed the captain, “a good many things may have happened. If he doesn’t show up by morning we had better go back, get your sloop and beat up the coast looking for him. He may have lighted on the trail of that gang and is following it up alone.”

They went back to the lighthouse then and waited anxiously for further developments. From time to time the boys went out and looked around the lighthouse in the hope of seeing something that would give them encouragement, but nothing happened. The telephone operator called back to say that the police and the ex-keeper were on their way out, and three-quarters of an hour later they heard them arrive in an automobile. The police captain and four men arrived with the relief keeper and the captain told the story.

“Mighty funny,” commented the police chief, while the new keeper went up to inspect the light. “If anyone took him away by force they’ll find themselves in for a lot of trouble. My men will make another hunt and I’ll look over every inch of ground.”

The police, with the aid of flashlights, examined the point, but found nothing new. As it was now growing very late the chief left one man at the station as a guard and the rest of them went back to town. The new keeper, a good-natured old man with quiet, refined manners, asked the captain and the boys to put up overnight at the lighthouse. Fearing that Terry might come back and miss them if they were gone they agreed readily enough, and the keeper was glad enough to have them stay. So they took blankets which the keeper furnished them and went to sleep on the floor, the captain, under protest, accepting the bed. The keeper expressed his desire to stay awake all night and watch the light.

“Not that there is any use of doing it,” he explained, with his slow smile. “But I’ve surely missed this old light in the last ten years. Seems good to be back on the job, though I don’t care for the thing that brought me back. But more’n likely Timothy will turn up again, and then I’ll have to go back to home life, so I want to set up and play lighthouse keeper once more.”

The boys slept but poorly and were up with the sun, to go outside and look eagerly across the water for some trace of their missing companion. But there was nothing to be seen and they went back to the lighthouse, to find the captain busy preparing breakfast for all hands. The meal, which was an excellent one, was eaten in silence for the most part, and when it was over, and they had cleared things up, they left the lighthouse.

The relief keeper accompanied them to the boat and wished them luck. “If anything comes up here I’ll let you know if I can,” he promised. “If the boy turns up here I’ll hold him here until you return. Don’t you worry a mite, everything’ll work out fine.”

The run back to Mystery Island was accomplished in a very short time and the boys stopped only long enough to load fresh water on the sloop. A fine spring back of the captain’s shack supplied them with the water, and they filled the tanks while the captain arranged for a prolonged absence. The preparations on his part consisted of the act of leaving a big supply of seeds for the parrot and some final and solemn instructions, and then they boarded the _Lassie_ for their search.

Under motor power they headed out for the south shore and passed the lighthouse at fair speed. They all agreed that the shore beyond the lighthouse would be the logical region to investigate.

“As long as Terry went down to that natural dock,” argued the captain, who sat at the tiller, “it looks like he may have been carted off—providin’ he was carted off—down the shore that way. Of course, it is possible that he was run up the coast, but we’ll have to chance that. The whole problem is a mighty ticklish one, and we’ll have to take chances.”

They kept in toward the shore as closely as they dared, watching the shore for signs of large creeks or rivers, and twice during the morning they actually rowed up inlets for some distance to see if any strange craft might be hidden. But in each instance their search was in vain and they returned to the sloop, to resume their sail. From time to time they passed towns, small villages, most of them, but for the most part the coast in that section of the country was wild and empty of life. They ate lunch while still sailing, and the early part of the afternoon went by in the same manner as the morning had.

It was about three o’clock in the afternoon when they approached a small town which their map assured them was Scarboro, and Don decided to go ashore and buy some food. The chief of police had assured them on the previous night that he would have a general description of both Terry and the keeper sent all along the coast. The party knew that if anyone in any of the coast towns saw the missing men they would be held and rescued. They decided, therefore, after talking the matter over, to anchor for the night in the little bay at Scarboro and press on the next day. The job of simply sailing onward in hopes of learning something was disappointing in the main, but they had no other way of accomplishing anything. Rather than sit around at the lighthouse and wait for something to happen they decided to keep on hunting.

They tied up at the dock and Don went ashore and to the town, a small community of shingled houses which clustered around a few stores and a postoffice. His first act was to seek the local switchboard and get the operator to put through a call to the lighthouse at Needle Point. That took him a good twenty minutes, and the result was disappointing. Nothing had been learned of the whereabouts of either the missing keeper or Terry. Greatly discouraged, Don went to the local grocery store and began to order supplies.

He was moving from counter to counter, picking out fresh and canned goods with a critical eye to their fitness, when a woman came into the store. At the time the place was unoccupied except by Don and the storekeeper, and she imitated Don in picking out her own goods. Don had glanced idly at her when she came in, and then looked away, his mind busy with his shopping. But as he waited for the storekeeper to wrap up butter he looked once more at the woman.

“Now, where in the world have I seen that woman?” the boy wondered. He looked searchingly at her sharp face, the plain black hat and the long musty looking coat. “It can’t be—jeepers, it is!”

He turned his face away swiftly, his heart beating more rapidly as the recognition came to him. It was indeed the woman who had been in the house at Mystery Island, the one from whom he had tried to buy the eggs. Don could not help regarding the circumstance as a wonderful piece of luck. If the woman was in the neighborhood it was more than likely that the marine gang was there too. Of course it was always possible that they might have split up and she might be living here in the town, but Don believed that through her some clue might be found which would prove worth while.

He was careful to keep his face away from her during the remainder of the time that he was in the store and when his purchases were all made he left hurriedly. He feared that if the woman looked at him closely she would recognize him and be on her guard, but apparently she did not, for when he left the store she was busy selecting articles and paid no attention to him. Securely hidden behind a large tree on the other side of the street Don watched until the woman came out of the store and then began to follow her.

He at once marked her manner as she came out. In the store she had been free and easy, paying no particular attention to anyone who went by or to Don himself. The boy felt sure that she was not known to the storekeeper, for as he had gone out he had heard the man say, “What else do you want, lady?” Don felt sure that had the storekeeper known the woman he would have called her by some name, in the manner of most country storekeepers, but he had not done so, and Don felt that she was a stranger in the town. It was possible that the bandits’ boat was near and that she had landed to buy provisions for the men.

Her first move, after looking all around the crooked street, was to go to the tobacco store and remain there for two minutes. When she came out she had a good-sized bundle, and Don was sure that she had bought a good supply of the cigars and cigarettes for the men. She had now apparently made all the purchases that she intended to, for, after another sharp glance about, she took the road leading away from the town and toward the beach.

Don was now sorry that he had such a large bundle with him, and after thinking it over for a moment he ran across the street and back into the store, where he asked the man in charge if he might leave the bulky package there. Permission was readily granted and when he had deposited the bundle behind a counter Don hastily left the store and took the road to the beach. He hurried on, fearing that he would lose the warm trail which he had been fortunate enough to stumble across, but when he topped a small rise he saw her below him, still hurrying along, looking from side to side and making for a particularly deserted spot on the beach.

Don was on a rise of ground which made it unnecessary for him to go any further. There were few houses below him and no part of the beach or sand dunes which could hide the woman, and he realized that it would be foolish to go any further. He crouched down behind some bayberry bushes and watched the woman, and a minute later he was glad that he had done so. The woman was glancing back of her now and she would surely have seen him had he been standing up.

Arriving at the beach the woman waved her hand, and from the arm of the land which formed one side of the little bay a rowboat shot out. Don was now on the other side of the bay and could not see his own boat nor indeed any of the few craft which were tied up at the Scarboro dock. He was now overlooking a stretch of the beach and ocean which they had not yet seen from the _Lassie_, that stretch which they intended to examine in the morning. The only object in view on the water, beside the little rowboat, was an old wreck of a three-masted schooner, which lay on a sand bar a mile to the south of him.

The boat came up to the shore, and the man who was rowing took the packages from the woman and placed them in the boat. Next he handed her in and then resumed his place at the oars. With long, sweeping strokes he sent the rowboat along the shore.

“That looks like Frank,” reflected Don. “But I wonder where he’s heading for?”

It was some time before he found out. Until almost abreast of the wreck the rowboat was kept parallel with the shore. But as they drew nearer the wreck the man headed the boat out to it, and to Don’s amazement they went on board. Then, for the first time, he noticed the top of a small black cruiser beside the wrecked schooner.

With this information, Don turned and went back to the store, retrieved his package and fairly ran down to the sloop. Jim and the captain were sitting on the deck, anxiously watching for him.

“Hello,” hailed the captain. “We thought you had disappeared, too. Was just goin’ to send out a rescue party to look you up, wasn’t we, Jimmie?”

Jim nodded. “We sure were. What’s the matter, Don? You look as though you had discovered something. Have they heard anything at the lighthouse?”

Don put down his bundle. “No, not a thing, but listen to this.” And he proceeded to tell them what he had seen. When he had finished the captain jumped to his feet.

“That sounds like somethin’ promising at last,” he declared. “The dusk is coming on and we’ve got just enough time to climb that hill and take a look at that wreck. Just lock up and we’ll go.”

Don locked the sloop and they went ashore, making for the hill which formed an arm of the bay. From the top of it they looked down the coast and Don pointed out the wreck. The captain studied it with interest.

“Big enough to make quite a hangout,” he said. “And just the place for them to keep under cover. Well, mates, what do you say we go aboard the three-master as soon as it gets good and dark?”

They agreed at once, and after going back to the sloop they ate a hearty meal. The prospect of action after so many hours of uncertainty was like a refreshing drink of cold water after intense heat. Impatiently they waited for total darkness, and even when it came the captain seemed to be wasting valuable time. The town and the bay had been wrapped in complete blackness for half an hour before the captain again told Don to close his hatch and get ready.

They piled into the dinghy, the captain stowing a good flashlight in his side pocket. He insisted upon rowing out to the wreck, and although the boys protested, they finally stopped, knowing that he was better at it than they were. With long, steady strokes the old seaman sent the dinghy through the water, around the point, and toward the wrecked schooner.

_17. Aboard the Wreck_

The row out to the wreck was a long one, but the captain, who was used to rowing, energetically bent to the task. The water was fairly quiet and the dinghy cut its way without undue bobbing through the gently rising sea. Before long the boys saw the great advantage of allowing the captain to row. The night was dark and the task of rowing toward the distant schooner had to be performed with accurate guesswork. They were sure that they would have had great difficulty in finding their way, but the captain, with his one view of the wreck and the direction of it, knew just how to keep the bow of the dinghy headed.

Very little was said and the row took more than an hour. No plan of action was agreed upon, as they knew that events must mold their actions once they got aboard the hulk. Although they realized that there was a chance that Terry was not aboard and never had been aboard they refused to pay any heed to the possibility. This was the first opportunity they had had for action, a chance to release the energy stored up by their anxiety, and even if the object of their search was not there they hoped to capture the bandit gang.

They were almost upon the wreck before they saw it, and a half dozen strokes served to bring them under its stern. There was no other boat there at the time, and Don thought that the better plan would have been to tie up to the power boat which was probably on the side, but the captain was taking the lead in the silent attack and Don said nothing. They waited a moment before going aboard and listened, the captain holding the oars motionless. But no sound came to them, so the oars were carefully placed along the sides and the painter was uncoiled by Jim. Without making a sound he stood up, cast the loop over a broken upright of the stern rail, and made fast. They were now firmly tied up to the _Alaskan_ and ready to go aboard.

Jim went first, pulling himself up by his arms, finding it quite a struggle but making it without noise. Don followed and then came the captain, and they were safely aboard. Their first thought was to look all around and get their bearings. The deck was deserted and only a faint light shone up from the companionway, but the captain hesitated to use the flashlight. Someone might be lurking on the deck and he did not want to take unnecessary chances.

They could dimly make out the outlines of the wreck, and the little that they could see was clear to them from the glimpse they had had of her that afternoon. Right before them rose an after deckhouse and they paused behind this while they looked around. Satisfied with his observations the captain turned to his companions.

“All right, let’s go,” he whispered, and started around the low deckhouse.

But at that moment Don seized his arm and pulled him back. Down on his knees went the boy and the captain followed, as did Jim. They had not seen anything and the captain looked at Don.

“What is it, boy?” he asked.

Don’s whisper was the least bit agitated. “I don’t believe in ghosts, but look at that!”

They looked and the captain’s breath came in a sudden gasp. Jim clicked his teeth together. In front of them, between the first and the second mast, a white figure was slowly rising up into the air. Silently it rose, a shape clothed in white, and when it cleared the deck it hung suspended in the air a foot from the planks. The form was very much like that of a man, with a white head, arms and a body in a long flowing robe, though there were no feet to the thing. It swayed back and forth, dancing a bit, and then began a silent and weird advance toward them.

The three crouching in the lee of the deckhouse did not know what to make of the thing. Being healthy human beings they scorned a belief in anything unearthly, but the apparition which danced in front of them was unlike anything that they had ever seen. The very way it advanced without a sound took their breath away, and the mocking way that it danced was more than disconcerting. The time of night, the mystery surrounding the old battered wreck, and the very blackness of the sea, was enough to make them feel their blood chill and to think all kinds of wondering thoughts.

The ghostly shape advanced to the mainmast and there stopped, gently swaying and dancing. Then it commenced to retreat at first slowly and then with increasing speed. When it had reached a point midway between the first and second masts it stopped altogether and remained suspended in the air, now almost motionless.

The captain reached out and touched the boys on the shoulder, and they drew close to him. When they had placed their heads close to him he whispered: “Looks like some kind of a game. They must have seen us coming and they are trying to scare us off. I guess the best thing we can do is to rush ’em, in spite of their flour-bag ghost. What say?”

The boys whispered assent, falling in at once with the captain’s theory of the dancing ghost. They had risen on their knees when something happened that checked them. A man came up the companionway and stepped out onto the deck, looking off over the stern.

That checked them completely and bewildered them. If, as the captain thought, the unearthly shape had been placed there to scare them, the presence of the man, whom Don knew to be Marcy, was enough to disrupt the plan. It did not seem logical and so they halted, uncertain. Marcy looked over the side and then turned slowly toward the bow. And as he did so, his eye fell on the shape.

They saw his form become rigid and a low cry burst from him. At the cry the dangling ghost began its terrifying advance, jerking up and down as it came. At the same time a low, hollow whistle accompanied it, rising high and sinking to a sort of mournful sigh. Marcy gave a shriek of fear and mental agony and rushed in a panic down the companionway ladder, stumbling part way down. They could hear him shouting for Benito as he went.

No sooner had he disappeared than the shape retreated rapidly, and gaining the original position of midway between the forward and center mast, dropped out of sight like a flash. They saw it go down and apparently melt right through the boards of the deck. It did not crumple up on the deck, but went on through, a faint squeaking sound accompanying its disappearance.

“Well, by jumping thunder!” gasped the captain, “What in tunket do you suppose that was?”

Before the amazed boys could venture a guess, Benito, Frank and Marcy rushed on deck. That is to say that Benito and Frank rushed, but Marcy very cautiously stuck his head out of the companionway. The two men on the deck looked all around and then turned to Marcy.

“Where’s a ghost?” roared Benito. “Come out of that hatch and speak up.”

Marcy ventured to creep forth from the shelter of the companionway and looked fearfully around. There was nothing to be seen and he was clearly at a loss. But he pointed in the direction in which the ghost had hung.

“It was right there,” he stammered, running his fingers uncertainly over his chin. “I saw it as plain as day, I tell you. It was about seven feet high and it burned all over, just like fire. It had a couple of horns and it looked at me with a horrible look on its face.”

The captain chuckled silently. “That lad saw more than we did,” he whispered.

Benito went around the mainmast and made a hasty inspection. When he returned he was thoroughly out of patience, and the waiting party strongly suspected that a secret fear was mostly responsible for it.

“Look here,” he growled. “You cut this stuff out and turn in. I’d like to know what your game is, scaring us like this? Do you think it’s funny?”

“It’s no game,” the bandit protested. “Anyway, it’s mostly your fault. If you and Frank hadn’t been talking so much about the ghosts that you say hang around all wrecked ships, I wouldn’t have felt the way I did. I tell you I saw something, and I’m leaving this beastly old hole in the morning.”

“You’ll feel different in the morning,” put in Frank. “What you need is a good sleep. Come on down and turn in.”

The men were just turning to go down when the old lady appeared at the companionway opening. She was not looking at the men but beyond them, pointing toward the deckhouse behind which the boys and the captain were hiding.