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Brave Tom: The Battle That Won, a fiction by Edward Sylvester Ellis |
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Chapter 16 |
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_ Chapter XVI But for the dark fear which impended over him, James Travers would have looked upon his sail up the Hudson on that spring morning as one of the most delightful experiences of his life. The sky was clear as Italy's; the air was balmy, and the steamers and shipping on the broad stream, as well as the roar of the train thundering along shore, formed an element in the romantic scenery which has well given the name of the Rhine of America to that noble river. But the boy had little heart for all these. He was speculating upon the probabilities of the near future. It was during the afternoon, while gliding up the river, that they passed so close to a downward-bound steamer that the features of the passengers on deck were plainly seen. Jim was leaning idly on the gunwale, looking at them, when he observed a lady, with a child seated beside her, the mother pointing out to the child the varied beauties of the scene as they moved swiftly by. He straightened up on the instant, as if he had received an electric shock; for the conviction came like a flash that he had seen the face of that child before. But where? He might as well have asked himself what there was in such a sweet, angelic countenance to affect him so strangely. Ah! he had it. That was the girl that Tom had rescued from the icy water the winter before. Going in opposite directions, and with such speed, the steamer and schooner were soon far apart, and the straining gaze of the lad was unable to tell where the mother and child were seated. The two had not even looked at him, and he could only sigh that the glimpse was such a passing one. "I wonder whether Tom has ever seen them since. He would be a great deal more delighted than I." The Simoon sailed steadily upward till the day wore by, by which time she was a good many miles above the metropolis. It was no more than fairly dark when Sam managed to whisper in the ear of the boy,-- "_You mus' leab de boat to-night!_" These were alarming words, though the lad could not understand how harm to him was to benefit any one, unless it was that Hornblower and his confederates were afraid of the consequences of discovery, and prefered to act on the principle that dead boys can tell no tales. The night was pleasant, with a faint moon, and the Simoon dropped anchor within a few hundred yards of shore. The distance was one that Jim could swim with ease. All he asked was the opportunity. The two sailors seemed to suspect some scheme of escape was in the boy's head, or else they must have noticed the chance was a very tempting one. "Why should they think I want to run away," Jim asked himself, "when I've had a hundred chances before to-day?" Why it was they were more than usually careful it was hard to understand; but that such was the fact could not be overlooked. It might be they were watching for the arrival of some one else, or, knowing that something important was on hand for that night, they were on the alert. Poor Sam was in a state of great agitation, and made an awkward attempt to assist his young friend. He offered to act as watch through the night, but the offer was declined. They intended to keep the decks themselves. "Dar's mischief a-brewin'," he whispered, "and yous had better git out ob dis unarthly place jist as quick as de good Lord will let you." Which was precisely what Jim meant to do, as soon as Providence would open the way. As the only chance was by a bold stroke, and as there was no telling the precise moment when the danger would burst upon him, Jim Travers did not wait long. Creeping softly up the short stairs, Jim raised his head barely enough to see where the crew were. The two sailors were standing aft, talking together in low tones. Probably they were discussing at that very moment the best plan of disposing of the boy, who had become a dangerous encumbrance to them and their employer. It was more than likely that Hornblower had failed in his attempt to secure a ransom for the child, who was not the one for whom the other parties were negotiating. The age of the captive was such that his liberty would prove fatal to his abductors. Sam, the burly negro, was leaning against the mainmast, probably torturing his thick skull as to the best means of helping his young friend, whom he loved so well. Jim saw enough, and, creeping out of the cabin, he crawled down over the rudder, upon which he rested a few seconds, while he made ready for his venture. He could see the dark bank, and he wished that the moon would hide itself behind a thick cloud, the better to give him a chance. But the sky was clear, and it might be fatal to wait any longer. With a muttered prayer to Heaven not to desert him in his peril, he let himself down in the river, and struck out for the shore. He proceeded with all the care and stillness of which he was capable; but he had taken no more than half a dozen strokes, when he was seen by both the sailors. "Hello! what's that?" asked Bob, running to the stern of the vessel, and peering over in the gloom. "I guess it am a whale," suggested Sam, anxious to befriend the lad. "A whale!" repeated the man with an oath, "it's that kid. Hello, there! Stop, or I'll shoot you!" And he pointed his revolver at the head of Jim, who, instead of heeding the command, sank beneath the surface, swimming as far as he could before coming up. When he reappeared he was a dozen yards from the schooner. The very moment he came up the villain discharged two shots from his pistol directly at his head. "Look out, or dey'll hit yous!" called Sam, unable to repress his solicitude for the boy. Could the miscreant finish the lad when swimming, it would be as good a way as any to dispose of him. It looked as if he had succeeded, for Jim uttered a groan, and sank out of sight. But it was only a trick intended to deceive the sailor. The latter observed the head as it reappeared, still nearer shore, and he fired again, two shots, as before. The other sailor, fearful of a miss, was hastily lowering a boat. He worked so expeditiously that the craft dropped into the water the next minute. Both sprang into the boat, and began rowing with might and main in pursuit of the fugitive. Poor Sam could only stay on deck, in a torment of fear, while he prayed the good Lord to protect the boy. When the little boat left the side of the larger one, Jim Travers had improved the precious moments to the utmost. He had already passed over the greater part of the intervening distance, and never in all his life did he swim as now. And there was need of it, for the pursuers were determined he should not escape them. Providentially, none of the bullets had struck him, though one or two had passed very near. Jim cast a terrified glance over his shoulder, and saw the boat coming with great speed toward him. There was no escape by diving, for there was too much light from the moon. He must reach land far enough in advance to give him an opportunity to flee or hide himself. A second after, Jim dropped his feet, and they touched bottom. Straightening up, he found the water reached only to his waist; and, with all the strength of which he was master, he fought his way to dry land, and hurried up the bank. The pursuers were close behind him, and both fired, the boat being so near that the impetus already given by the oars carried it hard against the shore. It was the best spot possible for the fugitive to land, being covered with wood and undergrowth, extending almost to the verge of the river itself. Directly into this Jim plunged and ran with the speed of a frightened deer, until he had gone a few rods, when he darted to one side, ran a little farther, and dropped flat on his face. For a moment, while he lay listening, he heard nothing but the thumping of his own heart, which he feared would betray him. In the silence he wondered what had become of his pursuers. Had they given up the chase, believing the fugitive was gone beyond recovery? Jim had no more than asked himself the question when he heard them moving through the undergrowth, a great deal closer than was agreeable. Worse still, they were approaching him, and discussing the question while doing so. "He didn't run far," said one, whose voice the lad recognized as belonging to Bob. "No; he must be hiding somewhere close by; we've each a charge left, and we'll keep it ready to fire when he shows himself." "Yes, he must be somewhere around here, and we'll scare him up before long," was the assuring expression. It looked very much as if they would keep their word, and Jim was sure he would have to move his quarters to escape discovery. This was a matter of exceeding difficulty, for the wretches were listening for some such noise, which would betray their victim. They seemed to be pursuing the hunt in a scientific manner, by walking back and forth over a certain area, gradually verging to the right, which was where Jim was crouching. The boy succeeded in creeping a dozen feet, perhaps, without drawing attention to himself, when he was brought to a standstill by coming squarely against a fence, whose rails were too close together to allow his body to pass through. Jim was in an agony of fear, for the two were steadily drawing near him. When he was in despair there came the flutter of a bird in precisely the opposite direction, and the suspicion of the sailors immediately turned thitherward. This was Jim's golden opportunity, and he was over the obstruction in a twinkling. But the fates seemed against him. Just as he left the top rail, it broke with a loud crash; and, feeling that everything now depended on his fleetness, he made his legs do their duty. Once over the fence, the fugitive found he was in the broad, open highway, along which he darted like a lad whose life was at stake. As there was a light gleaming only a short way ahead, his enemies must have seen that it was hardly a safe thing to pursue their evil intent any farther. Dreading they would not stop, Jim kept up his headlong flight, dashing through the open gate, without a pause for dogs, and giving so resounding a knock on the door that the old farmer instantly appeared, wondering what in the name of the seven wonders could be the matter. "Can I stay here over night?" asked Jim, panting with terror; "a couple of bad men are after me." "Yes, certainly, my boy; come in. I've one patient now, but you are welcome. My other boy is well enough to sit up." Looking across the room, the astounded Jim saw his old friend, Tom Gordon, sitting in an easy-chair, with one leg bandaged, as though suffering from a hurt. _ |
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