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Uncle Sam's Boys as Lieutenants, a fiction by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 18. An Act Of Piracy |
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_ CHAPTER XVIII. AN ACT OF PIRACY Moving slowly, with the graceful ease of a monster swan, the motor boat, a craft under sixty feet in length, moved into the pier to shoreward of the tug. "Motor boat 'Restless'?" hailed Captain Foster. "Yes, sir," came quietly from the youthful-looking sailor at the wheel. Just then he quitted his post. "Captain Halstead?" "Yes, sir; here, at your orders." Skipper Tom Halstead made the best military salute that he knew how, while the handy boy of all things aboard the boat, Hank Butts, made the bow-hawser fast and hurried along the pier to secure the stern hawser. "A party of five United States officers coming aboard, Captain Halstead," continued Captain Foster. "All right, sir; we'll be mighty glad to have you aboard," Skipper Tom answered quietly, but with a manliness and heartiness that made all of the officers instantly take a liking to him. Captain Foster introduced himself, and then his brother officers. Many of our readers will require no new introduction to Captain Tom Halstead, Engineer Joe Dawson and the irrepressible trouble-seeker, Hank Butts. These fortunate readers have already met the young men in the volumes of the "MOTOR BOAT CLUB SERIES," and know all about them and how Tom and Joe had secured their joint ownership in that splendid sea-going craft, the "Restless." "Halstead, can you take five officers and twenty enlisted men aboard for the night?" "Yes, sir," smiled the young skipper, revealing his white, even teeth. "They won't weigh over two tons and a half, altogether, sir." "Can you take that many with comfort?" laughed Captain Foster. "Now, I won't guarantee the comfort, sir, but there'll be room enough aboard so that no one needs to be jostled over the rail. Eighteen men can sit in the cabin at the same time. That leaves only seven, besides our own crew who will need to be on deck." "Oh, you're going to have plenty of room here," decided Captain Foster, after a brief look over the trim little motor craft. "I'm glad of that," sighed Dave Darrin, "for, as an interloper, I'd have to go ashore the first one if the quarters were crowded." "Mr. Overton, direct Sergeant Havens and his men to come aboard. Mr. Prescott, you'll look out for your squad, of course." "Certainly, sir." "Mr. Overton, as soon as you have your men aboard, give the skipper his word to start. You will cruise without lights, unless need for them arises. While cruising, do not go above nine miles an hour. Reserve greater speed for pursuit. First, you will cruise eight miles up the river, then eight miles below this point, and so on through the night until a half-hour before daylight. As much as you can, avoid showing your craft to any prowlers by the shores. Keep things dark aboard the boat, and voices low." By this time the enlisted men had come aboard, many of them going below to the cabin. "You may start, now," continued Captain Poster, jumping to the pier. "Catch anything you can that has arms aboard for the other frontier. Good-bye and good luck!" Hardly had the motor boat gotten under way when the tug, with Corporal Shimple and four men aboard, also left her berth. The tug went only a short distance out into the stream, then cast anchor for the night. The tug was to be held in reserve, and at the same time her mate and crew were thus prevented from communicating any news about the motor boat to possible Mexican lurkers on shore. The five young officers of the two services had seated themselves on top of the deck-house at the rear of the bridge-deck. Hank Butts sat midway down on the deck-house, yawning as though he would like to turn in. After he had got his engine working smoothly Engineer Joe Dawson came up from the engine room forward, taking his stand beside Skipper Tom Halstead. For five minutes Joe was silent, as the boat kept on up the Rio Grande. He half-turned, once in a while, to cast a covertly-admiring glance at the young officers seated at their rear. At last Joe whispered exultantly in his chum's ear: "Tom, that's a real fighting bunch." "You've hit the truth at first trial," returned Skipper Tom, in an undertone, as he kept his glance ahead over the river. "I'm not much given to exaggeration, am I, Tom?" "I never knew that you had an acquaintance with exaggeration," Halstead answered. "Then perhaps you'll believe me, Tom, when I tell you that I'd follow those officers over Niagara or into Vesuvius, if they happened to be bound either way." "I know you would, Joe," Tom answered, without smiling, for he knew his chum through and through. "Tom, those young officers would _assay up a big lot of fight to the ton_!" Having thus relieved himself of that strong conviction Joe Dawson seated himself on the roof of the forward house and did not speak again for twenty minutes. By the time that the eight miles upstream had been covered, and Skipper Tom Halstead had headed the boat down again for its straight sixteen-mile run, he called down to his chum: "Joe, will you come up and hold the wheel for me for two or three minutes?" "Coming," Dawson sang cheerily. But Dave Darrin stepped forward with: "Skipper, can't _I_ hold the wheel for you?" "Have you ever handled a boat before, sir?" Tom queried, giving this young man, who was in civilian dress, a keen though good-humored look. "At least twice," Darrin modestly assured him. "How big a boat?" "Up to sixteen thousand tons," Darrin replied, without cracking a smile. "A wise man is always cautious, Halstead," sang out Lieutenant Prescott gleefully, "but the man you're talking to is Ensign Darrin of the United States Navy." "Take the wheel, Mr. Darrin," replied the youthful skipper, with a grin, while Joe, halfway up the engine-room steps, took in the scene. "I heard Mr. Darrin introduced merely as 'mister,'" Halstead explained to the other officers. "I thought he was either an Army man, or some civilian friend who had come along." Skipper Tom Halstead then went below to his stateroom, while observant Joe Dawson noted that Darrin handled the wheel with skill. "Shall I give you a little more speed, Mr. Darrin?" called Joe softly. "I'm only a guest," Dave replied. "Mr. Overton is in command here." "Thank you, Engineer, but, as we're only cruising I believe our best move will be to stick to Captain Foster's nine-mile order," Hal replied, nodding to Joe. So the cruise continued. Halstead was soon on deck again, but the young skipper found Darrin so enjoying his trick at the wheel that Skipper Tom merely stood near to take the trick again whenever the young ensign showed signs of being tired of his job. It was late in the night, and the "Restless" was making her third trip up the river before anything happened. For some time the young Army and Navy officers had felt more or less bored with the monotony of these hours of tiresome waiting. Tom Halstead had stretched himself out on the deck-house for rest, though not to nap, and Hank Butts was at the wheel, while Joe dozed lightly on a seat in the engine-room. All of the enlisted men had crowded below, and were dozing. "Look sharp, there!" cried Lieutenant Hal, suddenly, as he sprang to Hank's side. "There's a craft moving out from the American shore, about a mile upstream, isn't there!" "Something moving, for sure," replied Hank, peering through the darkness. "A motor boat?" "It must be." "Trail her. Get in closer." Skipper Tom Halstead now came forward, though he did not take the wheel from Hank. "The search-light is ready, whenever you want it, Lieutenant," remarked the youthful motor boat skipper. "The use of the light might save the fellows on the other craft some guessing," smiled Lieutenant Hal. "I want to keep 'em guessing as long as possible." "I'll kick on more speed," proposed Hank, reaching for the deck controls. "Wait until you get orders," interposed Skipper Tom Halstead. "This is government business, Hank, and we're not government officers, so we'll act only under orders." It was evident that those aboard the craft upstream had made out the pursuing motor boat. The unknown craft was now heading straight across the stream, and kicking on some speed. "How fast is the stranger going?" asked Lieutenant Overton. "Twenty miles an hour, as nearly as I can guess," replied Skipper Tom. "How fast can you go?" "Twenty-six to twenty-eight miles." "Crowd it about all on, then. I don't want to have that other craft get too close to Mexico before we push up alongside." "All speed, Joe, and do it quick!" Skipper Tom called down into the engine-room. Almost at once the "Restless" earned her name by fairly leaping forward through the water. Then the chase began in earnest. "Noll, pass the word below for a sergeant and six privates," directed Lieutenant Hal, in a low tone. The enlisted men came up, taking their places on deck. "Does the lieutenant want us to load our pieces?" called the sergeant quietly. "Not yet," was Hal's reply, passed back by Noll. Then, on board the pursuing craft, all settled down to absolute quietness, save for the running of the machinery. The distance between the two boats was rapidly closing up, for it was plain that the other boat had started at full speed as soon as she sighted the pursuer. Glare! A strong, broad beam of light, from the stranger's search-lamp, shone across the water, then picked up the "Restless" when the two boats were less than a quarter of a mile apart. The uniforms of Uncle Sam's blinking men must have stood out strongly before the vision of those on the stranger. "You have a megaphone?" asked Lieutenant Hal. "Yes," replied Skipper Tom, passing the implement. "Run up just as close as you can safely for a hail." Lieutenant Hal waited until much more of the distance had been covered. Then he raised the megaphone to his lips, shouting: "Lay to, stranger! We are United States officers and must come aboard!" "You can't!" bellowed a hoarse, defiant voice. "We _must_ and will! Lay to!" "Take the consequences, then!" came the same hoarse bellow. Bang! It came altogether, in one sharp, crashing volley, from the stranger's decks, and a tempest of bullets hit the "Restless." "The pirates!" uttered Lieutenant Hal, at a white heat of indignation. _ |
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