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The Launch Boys' Adventures in Northern Waters, a novel by Edward Sylvester Ellis |
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Chapter 30. A Through Ticket To Home |
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_ CHAPTER XXX. A THROUGH TICKET TO HOME There it was in plain sight, rising like a giant nosegay of emerald from the crystalline water. It was barely two acres in extent, and, like nearly all islands great and small in southern Maine, the firs, pines and spruce grew to the very edge of the water. It reminded one of the patches of green earth in Europe where the frugal owners do not allow a square inch to go to waste. "I don't see anything of the _Deerfoot_," said Calvert in a guarded voice to Noxon. "We always lay to on the other side. Keep down!" It was wise advice, though not needed. The two crouched so low in their crowded quarters that a person a hundred feet away would not have seen them. Each instinctively felt of his hip pocket. The little weapon was there. The officers had now to depend upon Noxon, who for the time was director of the enterprise. He could make himself heard over his shoulder without drawing attention to himself, provided he was under the eye of his old associates. He was never more alert. Veering to the right, where there was a hundred yards of clear water between the islet and the mainland, he slowed down and began gradually circling the exuberant patch of earth. It will be remembered that he had been there before and knew the habits of Woodford and Miller. By and by, he had glided far enough to bring the western shore into his field of vision. Before that moment he had discerned the stern and flagstaff of a launch. A second glance told him the truth, which he cautiously made known to the crouching forms behind him: "The _Deerfoot_ is there! Don't stir till I give the word!" Neither of the criminals was in sight, but it was evident they were near, else the launch would not be lying where it was. Noxon gave a series of toots with his whistle, though the noise of the exhaust must have been noted before. In response, Kit Woodford and Graff Miller came out from among the trees, halted at the side of the launch and stared at the _Water Witch_ and its single occupant. Could they believe their eyes? They saw before them their own boat and the young man whom they had cowardly deserted in his extremity. What was the explanation to be? By this time the parties were so near that they could talk with only a slight raise in their voices. Kit Woodford was the first to open his mouth. With a profane expletive expressing his surprise, he demanded: "Where did you come from?" It was on the tongue of Noxon to make a biting reply, but he did not forget the part he had to play. "I found this boat at the wharf at Beartown and thought I'd hunt you up. How came you to have _that_ launch?" "Some one had run off with ours and left that. So we made a trade and I rather think we got the best of the bargain. I don't understand how ours was found by you." "Maybe the owners of that wanted to trade back. I say, Kit, I would like to know something--why did you and Graff run off and leave me behind?" "We didn't!" replied Woodford, with virtuous indignation. "Me and Graff hunted high and low for you and made up our minds you had run off yourself with the swag." "A fine lot of swag I had, when I had to scoot just after I got the safe open." While this snatch of conversation was going on, Noxon, who had cut off the power, was edging nearer. Calvert and Hagan squeezed each other so hard that it looked as if they would push themselves through the hull of the launch. Graff Miller now put in his oar: "If we didn't get a haul out of the measly post office we've scooped a mighty fine motor boat. We can sell it and gather in enough to last us till we crack another place." "That won't be as easy as it looks to you. The whole neighborhood is up in arms and we shall have to lie low for awhile." "Well, we've got enough to keep us a week or so----_Nox, there's somebody in the boat with you_!" exclaimed Miller, who that instant caught sight of the head of one of the crouching men. The craft was now so close that concealment was impossible. In fact, in the same moment that the _Water Witch_ gently bumped against the other boat, Stockham Calvert and Warner Hagan straightened up and bounded across upon the _Deerfoot_. Each grasped a revolver, and Calvert shouted: "Hands up, or I'll let daylight through you." The terrified Woodford turned to run, but a bullet whistled past his ear. Perhaps too he realized in that frightful instant that no place of refuge awaited him. The island was too small to allow him to hide himself. He abruptly halted on the edge of the wood, and facing about sullenly raised his hands. As for Graff Miller he did not attempt to get away. Accepting the order addressed to his leader as applying to himself, he stood stock still and seemed to be doing the best he could to keep the sky from falling on him. Knowing that Hagan would look after him, Calvert gave his whole attention to Woodford. Keeping his revolver presented, he crossed the narrow deck of the _Deerfoot_ and dropped lightly to the ground. A few steps took him to the cowardly ruffian. Never lowering his weapon, he ran the other hand over the outside of the man's clothing and twitched a revolver from his hip pocket. "That will do, Christopher; if you now feel an inclination to lower your dirty hands, you have my permission to do so. Perhaps it will not tire you quite so much." Hardly had he complied when a sharp click sounded. So quickly that it looked like a piece of magic a pair of handcuffs were snapped upon the miscreant, and Hagan was only a few seconds later in doing the same with his prisoner. The capture of the two was so easy that it suggested a farce. "If you had only put up a fight, Kit, it would have been a good deal more interesting," said Calvert, "but you always were one of the biggest cowards that ever made a bluff at being a bad man. Get a move on you!" As meekly as a lamb the prisoner stepped upon the nearest launch, and, as ordered, seated himself on one of the seats at the stern. "Do you want me to go there too?" humbly asked Graff Miller. "Of course; step lively." Calvert explained what was to be done. The handcuffed prisoners were to be taken to Wiscasset on the _Deerfoot_, their captors bearing them company. In that city they would be locked up, and every step that followed would be strictly in accordance with law. Noxon was to trail after the launch in the _Water Witch_. There was more than one reason for this arrangement. Since both boats were capable of making good speed, it was better than to have one tow the other. If the _Water Witch's_ gasoline gave out, the _Deerfoot_ could take it in tow, but this would not be done unless the necessity arose. The separation of Noxon from his former associates would prevent an unpleasant scene. Kit Woodford and Graff Miller could not fail to see that Noxon had given them into the hands of the officers. While they were powerless to harm the young man, they could make it uncomfortable for him despite the restraining presence of Calvert and Hogan. It is safe to say that none of the steamers and other boats encountered on that memorable voyage up stream suspected the meaning of what they saw. One launch was gliding evenly up the river with a second closely resembling it a hundred yards or more to the rear. In the latter sat a young man. In the former were four persons, two of whom had been engaged for weeks in robbing post offices in the State of Maine. No one observed that they wore handcuffs, or dreamed that the man handling the wheel was a famous detective. In this case he was Calvert, who had a fair knowledge of running a motor boat. The prisoners were sullen and silent for most of the way. Hagan, seated behind Calvert, could protect him from any treacherous attack with the handcuffs. The detective was too wise to invite an assault of that nature. When a turn in the course brought the long Wiscasset bridge in sight with the pretty town on the left, Kit Woodford turned his head and looked back at the young man who was guiding the other launch. "What are you going to do with _him_?" he asked, with a black scowl. "Nothing," replied Hagan. "Why haven't you got the bracelets on him?" "He has done us too valuable service. That isn't the way we reward our friends." Calvert, who had overheard the words, looked round. "We may need his evidence to land you and Graff in Atlanta." The remark was so illuminating that the prisoner said never a word. The occasion was one of those in which language falls short of doing justice to the emotions of the persons chiefly involved. It was Graff Miller who snarled with a smothered rage which it is hard to picture: "I'll get even with him if I have to wait ten years." "You'll have to wait all of that and probably longer," said Calvert, "and by that time I don't think Orestes Noxon will care much what you try to do." The detective pronounced the name with emphasis, to learn whether it attracted any notice. It did not so far as he could judge, whereat he was glad. The criminals were put behind bars, and the young man strolled through the street to the railway station. On the way, the elder said: "It looks to me as if you have a clear title to the _Water Witch_. What do you wish to do with it?" "Sell it to someone so I shall never see it again." "If you will turn the boat over to me I think I can dispose of it for you. Have you any price in mind?" "Sell the launch for whatever you can get, if it isn't more than twenty-three cents." "All right; I'll fix it. Here is the railway office. You have enough funds?" "Plenty. I shall a buy a through ticket to--_home_." "Of course. I shall call upon you this autumn. Good-by, Horace." "Good-by to one of the best friends I ever had. God bless you!" _ |
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