PART II.
Colonel Oddminton was a widower, with only one son, fifteen years old.It was natural, then, that the colonel himself should balance betweenforty-five and fifty years of age. Let the fact only be whispered indesert places that the colonel was no more a colonel than you are. Hehad never smelt powder, except when shooting mallard ducks. He never hadseen a regiment, except when it was marching on Decoration Daypeacefully through the woebegone streets of Charleston, preparatory to agood dinner. His nearest idea of regalia and medals consisted of themany adornments worn by Queer Fellows or any other order of HonorableUnextinguished Redskins as they either laid a corner-stone or a comradeceremoniously in the ground. Where could he have lived and not have beenan active partisan in the stirring days of our devastating civil war?Surely, not in the United States!
Of English exile blood, that came over a hundred years ago, he wouldhave been a thorough American had his parents and his environmentpermitted. His family had settled on one of the many Sea Islands thatdot the coast of South Carolina, and there they had staid and raised thefamous Sea Island cotton which is still successfully used, so fine itsfibre, to adulterate a fashionable fabric. Like the baryte of Cheshire,the cotton of Oddminton Island became valuable as it became an ally tofraud. The one increased the weight of white lead; the other swelled theunlawful receipts of the manufacturers of silk. Oddminton Island did notfollow the regular markets of trade. It always had its peculiar channelsof commerce; its cotton had an undiscoverable destination.
The colonel, as we will still call him, was, from his earliest memory,sternly brought up under an atmosphere of uncanniness and secrecy, nordid he leave his fertile island, except, as we shall mention, until hisfather died and made him sole proprietor of land, slaves and familytraditions. Fully two hundred acres were under cotton cultivation. Theinsignificant remainder was unentangled marsh.
Colonel Oddminton's father died in eighteen hundred and sixty-one. Thenthe colonel began to expand. He had two hobbies that consumed hisimagination by day and agitated his visions by night. The one had beenshared by his deceased parent, namely, an inordinate desire to be rich;not as wealthy as the richest family in Charleston, but as rich as allthe merchants in the "City by the Sea" put together. Cotton had alwaysgiven a comfortable living, but cotton was declining. It becameunsatisfactory. It was not enough.
Colonel Oddminton's other hobby was a fast boat. He had always been amore than enthusiastic sailor. When the boy was only eighteen, hisfather had given him a ten-ton sloop and allowed him to go anywhere,provided he did not touch the mainland. This order was in accordancewith the old man's peculiarities, but was strictly obeyed. With hisblack sailors the boy had cruised in every bay and inlet for a hundredmiles about. Though no one else knew it, he was the best pilot thosewaters ever saw. During the war, when he was master, he never left hisisland except to put his own cotton aboard English blockade runners. Inthese hazardous attempts he never failed. This experience cultivated hisnative qualities of courage and of self-possession.
On this island of his there was a bay that afforded fine anchorage fortwo large boats. It abutted on the marsh. It was there he had built asmall camphouse. Neither the cove nor the house could be seen from theopen sea. The former could only be entered through an intricate channel,and that when the wind and tide were favorable. The latter wasapproached through heavy underbrush by a winding passage that was knownonly to a few.
Colonel Oddminton was a tall, fine-looking man. He wore a long flowingbeard that had never seen the razor. His build was massive; his heightwas manly.
About the time of which we are writing--this was in--but the readerremembers--his new schooner, which he had dignified by the name ofyacht, much to the amusement of a few acquaintances, had been easilybeaten by a trim stranger, that ploughed its way to windward as if ithad been a knife eating into the teeth of the gale. He had followed thisnew craft to harbor and found her to be a Herreshoff model. That night,for the colonel's schooner was really an able and fast one, thedisappointed man was sadder than when he saw his only friend, hisfather, die. He was proud of his schooner. He had cruised in her fromBaltimore to the St. John's river, and had never been so disgracefullyout-pointed and outfooted by any boat of her size before.
It was at this time that he fell into a revery that lasted a month. Itwas the longest month in his life, the only one he had ever spent uponthe mainland. People pronounced him "daft," decidedly cracked, but"harmless, you know." His tall figure flitted from the lobby of theCharleston Hotel to the great cotton wharves, and then back again. Atlast he awoke, and this was the outcome of his supposed aberration.
"I don't care if it costs me my last cent, I'll have the fastest boat inthe world, and no one shall beat me again, by gum!"
To make a long story short, he sold to an eager syndicate of Englishcapitalists his island for an asparagus farm, reserving for himself theodd acres of marsh, his camp house and bay with its two moorings. Onthis sale he realized a hundred thousand cash down. He then turned hisfather's savings, fifty thousand dollars' worth of London consols, intoready money. He now had a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. With thishe and his boat disappeared. No note was taken of his absence either onhis former property or in Charleston, the only other place that reallyknew him, so frequent were his vagaries, so infrequent his presence.
Let us follow the Colonel in his unostentatious wanderings. He firstsailed with his son and his two trusty men direct to Washington city.He took in the sights of the Capital for a few weeks, and then, leavinghis boat behind, pushed on by train to New York, that wonderfulmetropolis that obliterates or worships men with an idea. He tooklodgings with his son in a modest boarding-house, and there met aSwedish sailor, a man who had been captain of a steam yacht during thesummer, and now happened to be out of employment. Nautical people do nottake a long time to become acquainted. Colonel Oddminton at the end of aweek had engaged Hans Christian on the strength of his name, withoutfurther references, at a salary of one hundred and twenty-five dollars amonth, with the proviso that his new captain should hold his tongue andobey orders. This was about the first of November. During the last weekof the same month the yachting world, and indeed the whole maritimecontingency, were interested in the following paragraph, which was dulycopied and commented upon by the national and foreign press:
"_The famous builders, the Herreshoffs, have taken a contract to build a steel yacht that shall develop the enormous speed of 35 knots an hour. They are given 'carte blanche' for everything that pertains to increase of speed. The new phenomenon will be about a hundred and fifty feet long, as less water line will not admit of the speed contracted for. A bonus of $500, it is rumored, will be paid for each additional one half-knot speed over the contract requirements of 35 knots. The engines that will effect this speed will be of a new and untried pattern. They will not be exhibited unless the vessel prove a success. The owner of this phenomenal craft, which will be the fastest in the world, is unknown. It is suspected that it will go to the Swedish government for use as a torpedo boat. The yacht will be finished in five months, and her name is undecided. We should respectfully suggest 'Sheet Lightning.'_"
At this time Colonel Oddminton and his son began to travel restlessly.They kept it up all winter until the first of May. The lad had developedas much aptness for the land as he had for the water. There were twothings the boy did admirably, and for which he was conspicuous beyondhis years. He held his tongue and obeyed his father; moreover, he wasclever enough to take care of himself.
With the first of May the ceaseless journeying came to an end, andRupert Oddminton was sent to Washington to put his father's old schoonerin readiness for future orders.
The press, which had volunteered during the winter much plausible butlittle real information about the wonderful new Herreshoff model, nowblazed into the rare glory of fact.
"_The first trial trip of the unknown took place yesterday. The marvellous wi
tch astonished spectators by showing up to the tune of 35-1/2 knots, and it is suspected the end was not reached. This unparalleled speed was continued for 125 minutes in favorable weather. This proved the most successful trial trip the Herreshoffs ever held. Thus the singular and hitherto undivulged electric machinery proves a triumphal hit. After a few minor changes the unnamed yacht will be ready for its destination. Who will own the fastest ship in the world? It is conceded that she goes to Sweden. Her crew, which is entirely composed of Swedes, is strangely uncommunicative----_" and so on.
* * * * *
One fine day, the magic craft shot out of Newport harbor and vanished.Some said she went straight to Europe. Each daily had its own theory.The boat and her evanescence were a nine days' wonder. The yacht thatrepresented the most exhaustive skill man had ever applied to navigationhad melted away, unnamed, unlicensed, and without destination. Even herbuilder knew her no more.
The reader knows, as well as we, that this triumph of speed was ColonelOddminton's venture. He had literally sunk his all in it with maniacalsatisfaction, and had only a few thousands left, barely enough to payexpenses for three months. He had pursued his ideal until he had herunder foot. He had not touched the new yacht until after it had left theworld in wonder. He had now met her on the high seas in his oldschooner, and the four--himself, his boy Rupert and the two blacksailors--with sad eyes, scuttled the home of many years. When theColonel's foot touched his new, bright deck, Captain Christian nodded,and the blue flag to starboard of the mainmast (signifying owner absent)was hauled down. The crew beheld their master for the first time. Not asail was in sight. The Colonel was dazed. He went below, gulped down apint of whiskey, and tried to think. He was intoxicated--not on liquor,but on final possession. When he came aloft, spray was whistling fromstem to stern, and behind was a wake that overtopped the racer itself.Water rushed as though projected through a pipe, past the shining sidesof the vessel. Colonel Oddminton, in a trance, leaned over and touchedthe steel plates carefully. He expected to feel the heat generated bythe tremendous friction. Captain Hans Christian stood respectfully athis side.
"What speed does she register, Captain?" asked the owner, with atremulousness new to the man.
"Only thirty-two knots, sir, in this chop, but we can drive herthirty-eight. I think she can go forty on the hardest push."
Only the owner of Nancy Hanks, the fastest racing horse the world hasyet produced, can imagine the sensations of the Colonel at this answer.
"What is the speed of the fastest government boat?" he asked withdeliberation.
"Twenty-six knots, sir," was the quick reply; "they've only two torpedoboats that go that; and they are always up for repairs. As for war-shipsor cruisers, none average over twenty. A common ocean steamer can beatthem out." This last was uttered with the contemptuousness one alwaysfeels toward a mighty government that allows itself to be outdone bycorporations or individuals.
"Suppose you change her top hampers, and make her so that no one canrecognize her; say, tack on a false stem and stern to the water line,will she still go as fast?" continued the Colonel cautiously.
"Certainly, provided you don't interfere with her hull," answered thecaptain in surprise.
"I will take the wheel," the Colonel said. The electric vessel fromwhose wheel there was an unobstructed view ahead, without smokestack,with masts that could for speed's sake be lowered, was steered like anysail-boat, from her heaving stern. The owner's hand marked half speed,quarter speed upon the indicator. To the disgust of the crew he gaveorders not to have the speed increased except to keep out of sight ofcoasters. At dead of night the beauty was anchored in his own cove,opposite his clapboard shooting lodge on the marsh. No one noticed hisapproach. The marsh and the bay hid their secret.
The next day at dawn a transformation began to take place. The whitepaint, the original and dainty body color of the electric yacht, waschanged to a dull gray, and the new coat looked as if it had been put onin amateur patches, so dingy was its appearance. The boats on the davitswere touched up with a combination of green and black. They looked atfirst glance as if a collier might have lost them at sea. The electriclaunch was smeared with the refuse of the paintshop put into one pot.The mixture attained was indescribable. But by far the greatest changeconsisted of a false stem and stern. These were modelled and put on, sothat after a few screws were drawn, the mask would slip off, leaving theoriginal sheer of the boat in all its beauty. A large smokestack ofhollow timber, painted black with a red stripe, was improvised and setup. This ornament led into the galley stove below, and the cook wasinstructed to burn smoky materials when on the run. The deck was thencovered with canvas and painted a sickly yellow. The brass work wentunpolished. As may be imagined, the new model was as different from theold as the carefully disguised ruffian on the stage is from his elegantself.
"Now she is ready," said Colonel Oddminton to his captain. "I willdouble the wages of all on board if the crew does not leave the ship orconverse with any person off of it except by order. My two colored menwill get all supplies. The future speed of my boat will be eight knotsan hour. She is incapable of going more. That is her limit until furtherorders. Give command for an immediate start. We will now go toCharleston."
The son and the crew from the captain down suspected that something wasin contemplation out of the usual run of pleasure trips. The son daredask his father no questions, though he burned with indignation at thevandal changes. The crew did not care, even if they went pirating.Nothing could overtake them. Their fuel was limitless. Their pay wasprincely. Their cook was supreme. These stolid natures obeyed orders anddrew their rations with faithful punctuality.
It does not take long to run to Charleston, going at even so slow apace. Small steamers ply daily between the Sea Islands and the cottonmetropolis. It happened that some of the Colonel's acquaintances were onboard one of the passenger boats, and they saw this new craft lumberingalong, puffing out volumes of black smoke. They slowed up, and were soonovertaken by the strange boat. The Colonel was sitting on deck.
"Halloa," one of them yelled, laughing. "Where did you pick up thatthing, Colonel?"
"Oh, down in New York. She's an old-fashioned steamer. I haven't hadtime to get her fixed up yet," answered the Colonel. "I always wanted asteam yacht, and I got this cheap." The passengers set up a laugh.
"We'll race you in," spoke up one of the Colonel's acquaintances, with awink at the others. The man knew the Colonel's weakness when hechallenged him.
"All right," said the Colonel briskly. "John!" yelling forward, "tellthe engineers to put more steam on and let her go."
New puffs of smoke came from the bogus smokestack. The sidewheelerincreased her pressure. It forged ahead at its highest speed, ten knots,and no more. Colonel Oddminton swore, but to no effect. The passengervessel left the Colonel behind, amid jeers and all the catcalls familiarto Southern methods of demonstration. The Colonel seemed heartbroken.When he _steamed_ into Charleston harbor two hours after his ancientrival, the wharf was crowded with the Colonel's "friends." When theColonel came ashore he dropped a few characteristic oaths, ordereddrinks all around, and said that, after the _Mary Jane_ (that was thename painted, on her square-stern) was prinked up and her bottomscoured, she would beat the best of them yet. He had great faith in herpossibilities. At any rate she could go in a calm.
Similar performances were repeated for a week. The Colonel planned it toget to the city in the morning and he went back at night, untilCharleston was thoroughly familiar with his ridiculously antique yacht,and had joked itself tired at his expense. Soon an elopement and amurder tickled the palate of the city, and the Colonel and the _MaryJane_ were forgotten. When that stage was reached Charleston knew him nomore. It was now the second of June, and the _Mary Jane_ turned her uglyprow toward the mouth of the Potomac river.
Every one knows that the Potomac empties itself into the Chesapeake bay.The Potomac is between ninety and
a hundred miles long, in its tortuousroute from Washington to the bay. At its mouth are many inlets. Each oneof these was known to Rupert and the two negro sailors. It was in themost retired estuary that the _Mary Jane_ cast anchor on the evening ofthe fifth of June. At her normal rate of speed she lay within two and ahalf hours run of the Capital. At nine, at black of night, she startedfor Washington. Her deck-log registered thirty-six knots an hour. Shehugged the shore, where she laid for safe passage, until she modestlycrept to an anchorage near a city wharf. Then the Colonel went ashorewith his two black men and two Swedes, to reconnoitre the town. Healways took with him a preparation of chloroform and another drug,which, for the sake of public safety, we will not mention. This wascompounded for him in Chicago, by a chemist formerly in the employ ofAnarchists. This preparation was warranted to "make a man who smelled itlose consciousness in less time that it takes to say Herr Most."
When Colonel Oddminton was last in Washington a casual smoking-roomacquaintance remarked, eying him with the gaze of a professionalphysiognomist:
"If you'd shave off your chin, and keep your hat on, you'd be the verypicture of Senator X----."
Now Senator X----, through a revolution of the political wheel, hadbecome Secretary of State. That casual remark had penetrated into theimagination of the Colonel. He tried to shake the impression off.Flattered by this suggestion--no one had ever made it before--he boughtphotographs of the Senator, all he could find, and studied themdiligently. For days he haunted the Senate chamber and learned thepersonnel of the Senator by heart. [This, it will be remembered, was inthe last administration.] Then was born the thought, Why not makecapital out of this resemblance which art could easily magnify? TheSenator was a millionaire. There might be money in it. But this seemed,after all, rather impracticable and rather commonplace. The Colonel wasno sneak thief. He had broader elements than that. The man, but not theblood, was ignorant that his grandfather's great-grandfather was hungfor piracy in England. It would be impossible to state when thestupendous plot, which he finally executed, shaped itself in his subtilebrain. This idea startled him, haunted him, conquered him; why notkidnap the President of the United States, demand a ransom and throwsuspicion, for a time at least, upon the wily politician? His thoughtsnow worked only in that conduit. Jacobi said that the greater a man'sability to act for distant ends, the stronger his mind. The Colonelsilently plotted for months. We see where it had led him. Havingstudiously perfected himself in the role of Secretary, which he wasprepared to play at a moment's notice, the Colonel spent the remainderof these last nights in Washington, awaiting an opportunity to capturethe Secretary's coach, after it had been dismissed by its owner for thenight.
He also kept himself closely informed of the President's habits and hissimple domestic hours without arousing any suspicion. All Washingtonknew the customs of its unostentatious chief. Society had criticised his"affected Democratic ways." Every one knew that he habitually retired asearly as a New England deacon, never later than eleven. White Housedissipation was now out of season. The Colonel knew that the interior ofthe executive mansion was unguarded at night. Could he once gain accessthereto, the rest of his plot, so ignorant and so trustworthy his tools,could not miscarry. The Colonel made the attempt for three consecutivenights to capture the Secretary's coach. He arrived each time inWashington between eleven and twelve. He knew the approaches to thestable, and luckily for him, on the dark night of the eighth of June heaccomplished his design, how successfully the reader well knows.
The strategic Colonel, with his four devoted men, invaded the privacy ofthe White House at exactly quarter of two o'clock in the morning; he hadthe aid of a card taken from the case in the coupe, and there-enforcement of his now marvellous resemblance. What he now did theveriest tyro could have performed. He had not meant to abduct the firstlady of the land, but what could he do with her? His native chivalrywould not permit him to harm her, though the President was madeunconscious by the aid of the Chicago anaesthetic. The wife entreated toaccompany her husband. She would undergo any fate so that he should notbe taken without her. On condition of perfect quiet her wish wasgratified. She was softly led, the President was carried, down thedeserted stairs. The familiar state coach bore the distinguished victimsaway, and the deed that baffled the detective skill of the country wasdone with an ease which seems ridiculous.
The next evening the President and his wife might have been seen byInspector Byrnes, had he been there, silently sitting on the deck of amurky-looking vessel, bearing name _Mary Jane_, and anchored in a littlecove off a swamp and cottage on Oddminton Island. So remote and quietwas this locality that the rumor of the President's effacement had noteven reached it. The kidnapped couple waited patiently for the reliefthat they momentarily expected. They had no news, nothing but scrupulousconsideration, attention, and a respectful but firm guard night and day.But rescue did not come.
One member of that dark crew was left in Washington to hold continualcommunication with the Colonel. This was the boy Rupert, who, if he hadsuspected by this time what had happened, was either too loyal or tooterrified to reveal the fact. The letters that astonished the world werewritten by the Colonel, sent to his son sealed, directed each in adifferent handwriting, and stamped with full instructions how and whereto mail them. The boy had travelled faithfully and far. Of course aletter posted by an innocent-looking boy of fifteen, who was unsuspectedand unknown, was able to baffle the law. He was the only confederate, ahelpless and faithful tool.
A country that opens itself in so many ways to foreign foes must not bestartled if one of its own sons, perceiving the weakness of the armor,should take advantage of it and choose his direction for the vitalthrust. The Colonel aimed high. He kept his counsel and accomplished theincredible in the simplest way. Who thought of him and the crazy _MaryJane_? The President and his wife were as far away from rescue as ifthey were on the Island of Borneo. There are a thousand such places onour coast where a hostile fleet might ride without even the suspicion ofour "Lord High Admiral."
It was ten minutes of eight o'clock on the morning of the eighth ofJuly. A fleet of many hundred vessels of every description lined thebanks of the Potomac opposite the revered home of Washington. There weregunboats and catboats, excursion steamers and yachts from every part ofthe country. They idly lay at anchor, or jogged barely enough to holdtheir own in the tidal river. All flags hung at half-mast. While mosteyes scanned the heights with impatient glance, others watched the waterfor a revelation. The sides of the hills were black with humanity. Theworld seemed to wait there with a throe of hope subsiding to an intervalof despair.
The high officials of the government were standing on the quarter-deckof the new man-of-war. _The Washington_. Each had a pair of glasses tohis intent eyes. This was the moment when the Secretary of State, fromhis high elevation, spied a long, low vessel moving slowly amid thefloating palaces and dreary hulks. It seemed apologetic in itsmovements, and afforded a sad contrast to the jaunty yachts it almostgrazed. None but the Secretary had as yet noticed this in significantboat. Somehow it fascinated him, and he followed it intently. It waspropelled by steam, and crept up as if it wanted a nearer view of themorning's performance.
Now a police patrol launch whistled that way, and gave the sailor at thewheel an abrupt command to bring her up to a stop. Hardly was this ordergiven when there came a puff of smoke from her uncouth bow, and anominous flaming sword appeared against the dead gray sky. A sound thatcould at first have been mistaken for a subterranean growl rolled uponthe still air. When the second flaming sword flashed into mid-heaven themutter of the populace became a roar. It was true! True! The Presidentand their lady were at hand and in their midst. Two more ill-omenedrockets gleamed above. Was it execration or was it joy--this mightysound that broke from river to shore? Then silence came again. Eyesstrained to see this mysterious thing that made straight for the greatman-of-war. But one soul was seen on its dingy decks. Only the man atthe wheel was visible. He was clad in black. A hundred vesselsins
tinctively closed about this daring and defiant craft. Its escape wascut off. It could neither go to the right nor to the left, forward norback. It sullenly stopped.
Then came a whistling shriek, followed by a cannon peal from itsforequarter--another--and the flag of black and crimson crowned by thegilt eagle, touched by unseen hands, shot like a baleful spirit fromthe peak.
"Keep off!" shouted a stern voice from the bow. "Keep off, ahead there!Let the nation stand back at the peril of their chief magistrate!"
Now the Mystery swung ahead, until she was abreast of the high warship,any one of whose lowering guns would have gladly shattered her if it haddared.
When the execrable vessel came to a halt, and breathless and dignifiedfaces peered upon her decks from above, a sudden bustle was observed.From below there mounted slowly his excellency the President of theUnited States, attended by the first lady of the land. Both looked paleand anxious, but bore signs of powerful self-restraint. At sight of therevered couple, the man-of-war's crew could not control themselves, andset up a mighty cheer. This was caught up from ship to ship, from shoreto height. Flags were hauled aloft. Guns were discharged. A pandemoniumof joy set in. Behind the captured couple two men in black walked, eachwith a cocked revolver. The honored pair reclined on steamer chairs infull view of their people. The world knew now that they were safe andnearly home. Greetings were exchanged between Cabinet and Chief. Evenwar-scarred veterans could not choke down the rising apple in theirthroats.
Again there was a hush. A figure now stepped from a forward hatchway ondeck of the _Mary Jane_, walked up to the captured couple, and bowedlow. This salute was succeeded by a courteous recognition of theimpatient crowd above on board the _Washington_. As the unknown raisedhis silk hat for the second time, he stood directly in line with theSecretary of State. The Secretary of State and Col. Oddminton regardedeach other. Bystanders started in surprise. The resemblance between thetwo men was deeply suggestive of the success of the plot. The villainhad the same noble brow, the same delicate complexion, the sameincomparable whiskers. But, alas! he was bald on the top of his head.The Secretary involuntarily stroked his own luxuriant crown with a sighof relief.
"Gentlemen, representatives of these United States," said the Colonelslowly, "I have faithfully fulfilled my part of the contract. Do youyours. I will come aboard and inspect the ransom. Then it may be lowereddown, and the President is free. I have not long to stay." In themeanwhile, so intent were all eyes upon the star actors of this scene,it was not noticed that men were busily engaged at stem and stern ofthe unshipshape-looking steamer.
Hands worked deftly at masts and funnel.
After a few minutes, during which the expectant couple sat with as muchcomfort as one can before loaded pistols, the ransom was inspected, theColonel satisfied. Eighty bags of gold were carefully lowered to thepirate craft.
As the Colonel descended alone to his own deck he motioned with hishand. Immediately the pistols were flung into the water. The seamen inblack fell back as a guard of honor. The Colonel, with Southern graceand British dignity, extended his arm to the distinguished and tremblinghostage. This she did not refuse and he led her to the cream-whitecompanionway that now reached from the _Washington_ to the _Mary Jane_.The marines presented arms. The women sobbed. Then came the President.When his foot touched his own deck there thundered forth a salute oftwenty-one guns from the American navy. Whistles blew, flags andhandkerchiefs fluttered, and mad salvos rent the air from subjects thatany sovereign would gladly call his own.
The President now looked down with sad curiosity upon his former prison.But there strange things had happened. The caterpillar had cast off itschrysalis, and the incomparable butterfly appeared. Where was thesmokestack? Where were the masts? Where was the _Mary Jane_? A loadseemed to fall from stem to stern, and there appeared beneath dingypaint a sheer which a king might long to possess. This was the crowningsurprise. Naval officers now recognized for the first time the nauticalmarvel which had deluded the nation. The Colonel stood alone upon thedeck of the transfigured boat. With uncovered head he spoke. His lefthand grasped the wheel.
"Mr. President--I have guarded you safely, and treated you as well ascircumstances could permit. Your patience in adversity, and that of yourwife, have compelled my reverence. You were but the scapegoat of anation. This country can never afford to be careless of its defences andof the treasures which they protect. People of America! You regard me asthe chief malefactor of your times. The day may come when you will callme its greatest benefactor. To-day you execrate me. To-morrow you maybless me. I have taught you a solemn and a costly lesson, but the priceof such wisdom is cheap. Good-morning!"
There was no opening, but the hawsers were suddenly cut. There was arush and billows of foam. As a cat plays here and there in her prettyantics the "_Lightning_" (for a blow of the hammer on the stern hadannihilated the _Mary Jane_) wound in and out at an unequal rate. Whenshe turned, she careened far over on her side. The water lapped theColonel's feet. Who could stop her? Who could overtake her? At the firstshock the gunners stood motionless, then sprang to their guns. ThePresident, Commander-in-chief of the army and navy, raised his hand andshook his head.
The faith of the nation was pledged, and the pirate escaped without ashot. The incredible speed of the _Lightning_ increased. It becameterrific. Nothing like it had ever been witnessed in maritime history.Spectators stood with held breath.
A lieutenant in his excitement shouted: "For God's sake, overtake her!"
The crowd yelled: "Run them down! See where they go!"
But the navy of the United States might as well have chased a cannonball. The mental pressure became tremendous. Spectators had hardly drawna breath when the miracle was hull down. The American love of audacityand speed struggled mightily for the moment with American patriotism.The moral sense of the people could not prevent a murmur of admirationwhen the _Lightning_, with eight millions of national gold aboard, inless than nine minutes was but a speck. A bend of the river, and themysterious, courtly and successful pirate was gone.
THE LOST CITY.