CHAPTER XV
SURRENDER
"They're going to run her ashore!" shouted Steve.
He slid out the clutch, throttled down the engine and swung the boat'snose to starboard as the others piled back to the deck. The _Adventurer_swept around in a long circle while the _Follow Me_, churning theshoaling water into white froth, ran straight for the shore.
"Gosh, what a mess!" groaned Harry Corwin. "We'll never get her offthere!"
Steve made no answer, nor did the others. They were all watching thatwild rush of the black cruiser. On and on she went, rising and fallingwith the gentle swells, until it looked as though she must surely bechurning the sand with her hurrying screw. Suddenly the cabin doors flewopen and three men, one hatless and with a white towel bound around hishead, leaped out and scampered along the roof to the bow. Wink raisedhis revolver, but Steve pulled his arm down.
"Don't!" he said. "Let them go if they will."
At that instant the _Follow Me_ faltered, stopped, and went on again foranother yard or so as a breaking wave rushed under her keel, and thenrolled over to starboard and subsided so, her propeller still beatingand her stern slowly working around. Into the two feet of water droppedthe trio on the bow and, keeping the _Follow Me_ between them and theenemy, scuttled to land, and then, once on the hard sand, ran as hard astheir legs would take them up the beach to the north. Wink sent one shothurtling after them, just, as he explained afterwards, to encouragethem, and Steve, having cautiously edged the _Adventurer_ as near shoreas he dared, gave his orders hurriedly.
"Get the big cable from the rope locker, Han," he directed. "Joe, youand Harry jump into the tender and stand by here. When you get the cablepull in to the _Follow Me_ and make it fast to the stern cleat. Tom,you'd better go along, too. Put your engine into reverse and try to backoff. The tide's still running out and if we don't get her off now we'llhave a hard time later. I'll pull on the stern and you jockey her withher own power. I think we can do it. Now then, Han, give me that. Here,take this end forward and make it fast around the cleat. Pass itoutside that stanchion, you chump! Catch, Harry! All right! Get a moveon, fellows!"
Off plugged the tender, Joe bending furiously at the short oars, the bigcable paying out astern. A minute or two later they were tumbling aboardthe _Follow Me_, Tom to dart below to the engine, Harry to make fasttheir end of the line and Joe to look after the tender. Then Harry waveda hand and shouted, and the _Adventurer_, which had been going slowlyastern, taking up the slack of the cable, settled to her task. The bigrope tightened, throwing a spray of water into the sunlight along itslength, strained and creaked and the _Follow Me's_ propeller, reversed,did its part. There was an anxious two minutes. Very grudgingly theblack cruiser's stern came around. Steve drew the _Adventurer's_throttle down a couple of notches. The _Follow Me_ gave up her notion ofspending her declining years on the sands of Plum Island and slowlybacked away. A shout of delight arose from a dozen throats as, with thewater once more under her she bobbed sedately to an even keel andfollowed the tug of the big hawser.
A quarter of an hour later the two boats continued their way up theshore, the _Follow Me_ poorer by one eighty-pound anchor and richer byone cedar dingey which the six boys aboard seriously suspected of havingbeen stolen. They ate dinner at half-past two, anchored on Joppa Flats,the two crews once more assembled around and about the _Adventurer's_hospitable board, and as they ate, very hungrily and quite happily, theydiscussed the day's adventure.
The _Follow Me_ showed numerous signs of Steve's and Wink'smarksmanship, both outside and in, but there was no damage that nailsand hammer, paint and putty wouldn't repair. The stolen boat's larderwas sadly depleted and, as Tom said disgustedly, the cabin looked asthough a dozen pigs had lived in it a week! But, all in all, the cruiserhad come off well. As for the lost anchor, why, as Wink pointed out, thetender would more than buy them a new one. There was some discussion asto their right to dispose of that tender and in the end they agreed thatthe proper thing to do would be to leave it at Newburyport and mail anadvertisement to the Plymouth papers. If the owner claimed the boat hewould pay for the advertisement. If he didn't, they would recover itlater on their way back down the coast. The _Adventurer_, too, showednumerous scars. One bullet had plugged straight in at one side of thesmokestack and out the other, the glass in one window had been shatteredto bits and in various other places damage had been wrought. But theyhad recovered the _Follow Me_, and that, viewing the affair inretrospect, had been something of an achievement. Everyone, even Tom bynow, was more than satisfied at the outcome of their first realadventure. Dinner, delayed as it was and none too palatable by reason ofhaving been prepared for a much earlier hour, was a merry meal.
After it was over they went on up to Newburyport, found a berth and setout to look for a yard where they could have the two cruisers patched.Repairs kept them there two days, and then, having acquired a new anchorfor the _Follow Me_ and left the extra dingey in safe storage, theAdventure Club set forth once more in the early hours of a drizzlymorning.
They passed the Isles of Shoals before nine and in the middle of theforenoon Steve pointed through the haze to where an indistinct blotagainst the sky line proclaimed Boon Island. After that the cruiserskept well toward shore, for, although the drizzle had stopped, thenavigators feared that a fog might take its place, and that oneexperience in Vineyard Sound had been sufficient to last them for thebalance of the cruise. Off Cape Porpoise the boats found rough seas andthe crew of the _Follow Me_ were secretly delighted to observe that thesmaller craft made much easier going. The _Adventurer_ seemed to behaving a thoroughly good time, for she kicked up her heels and waved hernose and fairly rolled in merriment as the seas came sliding under herquarter. The bridge deck was a damp place until both side curtains werelowered and laced to the rails and stanchions. Poor Joe stood it as longas he could, getting paler and paler and sitting, hands in pockets,gazing fixedly at the brass kickplate at the top of the forwardcompanion way, about the only thing in his range of vision that wasfairly steady, and at intervals lurching below with an assumption ofcarelessness that deceived nobody, to dose himself with his sea-sicknessremedy. That remedy, however, failed him, and it was not very longbefore the Chief Engineer was conspicuous on the bridge by his absence,while those who listened could hear at intervals a low moaning soundproceeding from the after cabin. But Joe was not the only one aboard the_Adventurer_ who suffered qualms of uneasiness, although he alone gaveup the struggle. Both Perry and Han showed pale countenances and lookedbig-eyed and pathetic. Neither displayed the least interest in dinner,while Joe, when cruelly summoned by Ossie, only groaned lugubriously andturned his pallid face to the wall. At two o'clock the sun broke throughand dyed the sea a wonderful green, and the _Adventurer_ began to meetother boats. As she left Scarboro Beach on her port beam and began tonose in toward Peak's Island the sea calmed and by the time the cruiserwas ready to drop her anchor in Portland harbour, Joe, albeit stillrather greenish, had pulled himself back to deck to gaze approvingly atthe shore.
A week went by during which the Adventure Club, one and all, had aglorious time without anything that in the least resembled adventure.They spent a whole day in Portland--spent, also, a deal of money therereplenishing an utterly exhausted galley--and then, to use Perry'sinelegant phrase, "bummed around" Casco Bay for three days more. Joefell in love with more islands during that time than he had knownexisted. "I've always wanted to own an island," he would explain, "andthat's the very island. Let's go ashore, Steve, and look around."
Steve humoured him several times, until the others complained that theywere getting tired of stopping at every bunch of rocks on the MaineCoast, and pointed out, besides, that, as Perry had owned to having butnine dollars in his pocket just a few days before, it wasn't at alllikely that he would find an island within his means. After exhaustingthe interest of Casco Bay the two boats ran further up the shore andspent another forty-eight hours at Camden. Steve had friends there andthe whole tribe of mariners w
ere invited to dinners and luncheons andfound that "home cooking" was all that it was popularly believed to be.Ossie had a most perfect time during those two days.
"Nothing to cook but breakfast," he said ecstatically, "and real foodthe other two meals! Gee, but it's fine to eat something some other poorduffer has cooked! Say, Joe, what is it that pigs have that kills themoff in bunches: sort of a--an epidemic?"
"Hog cholera," hazarded Joe. "Aren't you feeling well, Ossie?"
"Well, I wish they'd all have it," said Ossie devoutly. "I'm so plumbsick of cooking bacon!"
The rest agreed, away from Ossie's hearing, that it was a very fortunatething that the period of eating ashore had arrived when it did, forOssie had been showing symptoms of mutiny of late and his cooking hadnoticeably fallen off. "He was due to strike in another few days," saidHan. "Then someone else would have had to take the job, and we would allhave starved to death."
"In the absence of the cook," observed Perry gravely, "the job falls tothe crew."
"No, sir, to the second mate," corrected Han. "Isn't that so, Joe?"
"I'm not sure. The only thing I am sure of is that--um--it doesn't fallto the chief engineer."
"I should say not!" retorted Perry. "Think of eating food flavoured withengine oil!"
"Couldn't be any worse than pudding flavoured with onion extract,"chuckled Joe, referring to a viand prepared by Ossie while atNewburyport. Ossie had meant to put in a spoonful of vanilla, but thetwo bottles looked so much alike--
The pudding was never eaten, unless the fish consumed it, and themention of it still caused Ossie great pain and humiliation.
They went into the water every morning before breakfast, lived almostevery minute in the open air--for even at night the wide-open ports anddoors made the cabins like sleeping porches--ate heartily, got enoughexercise to keep them lean and hungry and became tanned with sun andwind to the colour of light mahogany. Khaki trousers, sleeveless shirtsand rubber-soled canvas shoes made up their ordinary attire, althoughfor shore visits they "dolled up" remarkably. Those early morning bathswere fine appetisers, as will be understood by the reader who has hadexperience of the water along the Maine coast, and the number of eggsand slices of crisp bacon that came off the alcohol stove would soundlike a fairy tale if told. At Camden the two cruisers lay side by side,with just enough room between to allow them to swing, and by keeping thetenders alongside the gangways it was only a momentary task to ferryfrom one boat to the other. In consequence the two crews mingled a gooddeal and it was no unusual thing for one breakfast table to be throngedwhile the other was half empty of a morning. When the boys got tired ofswimming they simply climbed over the rail of the nearer craft and,after partly drying themselves, went down to breakfast. As getting drywas a somewhat perfunctory proceeding, the linoleum in the forward cabinwas covered with pools of salt water by the time the last platter ofbacon and eggs was empty.
Many friends were made and the boys spent more time on shore thanaboard. There was tennis to be played, for one thing, and Phil, Steveand Joe were all dabsters at that game. And then there was a big,freckle-faced youth named Globbins who spent most of his waking hours inthe driver's seat of a high-powered roadster automobile and who ran thefellows many miles over the roads and was never, seemingly, morecontented than when every available inch of the car was occupied. Itsnormal capacity was three, but by careful packing it was possible to getseven in, on or about it. In return, Globbins was entertained aboard the_Adventurer_ and given a thirty-mile cruise one evening, but it was easyto see that he wasn't really enjoying himself and that his hands fairlyached for the feel of that corrugated wheel of the roadster. They hadsuch a jolly time at Camden that they promised faithfully to stop thereagain on the return voyage, and really meant to keep the promise whenthey chugged out of the harbour one crisp morning and turned thecruisers' bows eastward for the run across Penobscot Bay.
They lazed that day, for, as Steve said, it was too fine to hurry.Dinner was eaten with the two boats side by side, with only fendersbetween, in a fairy pool. They found the place quite by accident whenexploring the shore of an island whose name they are to this dayignorant of. There was an entrance to the tiny bay through which aschooner might barely have scraped her way. Beyond the mouth lay awonder land. The pool was as round as a dish and its water the bluestthey had ever seen. Straight across from the entrance a cliff of granitetowered for a hundred feet or more, its tree-clad summit almost leaningover the boats at anchor. Its face was clothed with vines and dwarfevergreens and birches. On the other encircling shores of the pooltumbled boulders hung over the blue depths and were reflected so clearlythat, looking down, one received the same impression of air and space aswhen lying on one's back staring into the sky. There never were suchreflections, they declared. No one came to disturb them, and only thesongs and chirpings of birds and the sleepy sigh of the faint breeze inthe boughs broke the silence. Green and blue was that fairyland, warmwith the sun and redolent of the sea and the sappy fragrance ofsun-bathed foliage.
They ate dinner on the decks, the two boats snuggled so close that itwas the easiest thing in the world to pass dishes from one to another.After dinner they lolled in the sunlight and gazed up at the sheergranite bluff or the smiling and cloudless sky and talked lazily orslumbered a little. And finally Wink Wheeler thought of fishing and in afew minutes a half-dozen lines were overboard, and, while the catcheswere not big, they were fairly frequent, and the question of what theywere to have for supper was solved there and then. It was Harry Corwin'sidea to stay in the pool overnight and everyone instantly applauded it.Later, a party went ashore and explored, but there were no paths to befound and Nature was jealous of her secrets and they came back withoutmore knowledge of this unknown island than they had had before. Theynamed it Mystery Island and called the little harbour Titania's Mirror,a suggestion from Bert Alley which elicited jibes and a final agreement.
"It's not 'mushy' a bit," said Steve, in Bert's defence. "It's a finename for the prettiest bit of water any of us ever saw, and you know it.The only trouble with you is that you're afraid someone will laugh atyou for being poetical or imaginative. If Bert had suggested calling itPut-In Bay or Simpkins' Cove or something like that you'd have said'Fine!' and secretly thought him a perfect ass!"
Twilight came early and the still, limpid water of the pool took on allsorts of strange and wonderful hues, like the iridescent surface of apearl-shell. It grew very still and a little bit eery as the shadowscrept over the scene, and it was a relief when Cas Temple and Bert Alleybrought forth their mandolins. I am sorry to say that Titania's Mirrorwas a bit too thickly inhabited by mosquitoes for comfort, and therewere restless turnings and muttered expostulations to be heard for sometime after lights were out.
The morning broke radiantly and at half-past six Titania's Mirror wasturned into a highly satisfactory bathtub. Brown arms clove the shadowedsurface and dripping heads rose and fell as fully half the number setout on a spirited race to the entrance. When almost there they emergedinto a flood of pale sunlight, and looking down through the pellucidwater they could see the sloping sides of the basin converging like thesides of a bowl. Tragedy was surely the last thing to be thought ofamidst such idyllic surroundings, and yet it was hovering very close.