CHAPTER XXIII--SPYING ON THE FILIBUSTERS
Meanwhile, at the Sanderson farm, business was proceeding at a rate thatentitled the word to be spelled with a very large capital "B."
Mr. Lawrence and his comrades, under Captain Tom's pilotage, were hiddenwhere, despite the darkness, they could get a very fair idea of what wasgoing on at the pier. Joe had led Warren and the other local officers upwhere they could know what was going on behind the farmhouse. Sanderson,Alvarez and all hands except Captain Jonas French, were working like somany industrious ants. Two of the men were moving cases out of the newshed onto the pier. The rest were bringing cases down to the pier fromthe farm outbuilding. All the cases were being piled at the end of thepier.
"That means they're going to ship everything to-night," whispered Mr.Lawrence.
"When are you going to jump on them?" Halstead asked.
"Not until they get everything on their vessel, and get out on thewater. If we showed ourselves now, and tried to arrest the crowd, whatcould we prove? Sanderson has a perfect right to stack any kinds ofmerchandise on his pier. But when we overhaul a craft out on the water,loaded down with filibuster's supplies, and the captain of that craftcan show no regular papers for such a cargo, then we have the crowdwhere we want them."
It was a dull time waiting, but Inspector Lawrence was right, as a manof his experience was quite likely to be. The time slipped on, with noopen move on the part of the law's people.
"I thought I saw a rocket up north, then," whispered Tom, at last.
"Watch and see whether there's another," replied Lawrence, also in awhisper. But the rocket Tom had seen was the last that Jed hadderisively shot after the retreating tug. It wasn't long, however,before the young motor boat skipper and the United States officers heardthe sound of the tug approaching. They lay low, but watched, quietlyuntil the tug had docked at the end of Sanderson's pier.
"We'll still have to use patience," smiled Mr. Lawrence, turning to Tom."This is going to be a watching game for some time yet."
By now the gang that had been bringing cases down from the outbuildingall filed out onto the pier. The sounds of brisk but regular loadingfollowed. An hour of this work, monotonous for the hidden watchers,followed, and then another hour. Neither Tom Halstead nor Mr. Lawrence,from their hiding place, could see the cargo piles on the pier verydistinctly.
"Halstead," inquired the inspector, "do you suppose you can safelywriggle nearer, and see how far the loading has gone?"
"I know I can," Tom answered. "I'll go slowly about it, and make never asound, or show myself."
After a few minutes, in fact, Tom got within seven or eight feet of thepier. He had crawled over the ground, and now lay flat with his headbehind the roots of a tree.
From where he lay he could make out Don Emilio Alvarez standing talkingwith Captain Jonas French. The latter, with a swollen nose and apowder-burned cheek, was telling the gentleman from Honduras all aboutPrentiss's remarkable achievement.
"Oh, say, but that was grand of old Jed!" breathed Tom, his sidesshaking with suppressed laughter. "If Jed doesn't get a Carnegie medalI'll have my opinion of some folks!"
Don Emilio tossed away a half-burned cigar. The butt fell close by thetree roots that helped conceal the head of the young motor boat skipper.Perhaps the little brown man started slightly from something that theglowing tobacco showed him. At all events, he spoke in a whisper toJonas French. The next instant both leaped down from the shore end ofthe pier, rushing at the tree.
Tom Halstead sprang up, prepared to sprint for it, but hardly had hestarted when he felt himself gripped savagely by French. One instantmore, and Tom Halstead found himself being borne, despite his yells andfurious, fighting struggles, out along the pier.
"All aboard and cast off!" yelled Jonas French, as he sped on over theboards. The last case of the cargo had just gone over the tug's rail,and now two men sprang to cast off bow and stern hawsers. The engineroom bell jangled just as French and Alvarez, with their strenuousprisoner, sprang aboard.
Inspector Lawrence and his two comrades had lost no time. They now camedashing from concealment, but they were too late. As they arrived at theend of the pier the tug was a hundred yards on her way.
At the starboard rail stood two seamen, holding Tom as in a vise. Behindthe young motor boat skipper stood Don Emilio Alvarez, waving a tauntinghand at the officers. Jonas French had gone forward to take command ofthe tug.
The seamen, powerful, swarthy fellows who looked like Portuguese, heldTom at the rail until the tug was half a mile from shore.
"Now, you can let go of him, my men," nodded Alvarez, "but watch theyoung man."
"Mr. Captain, how would you like to stroll aft and look at a nicesurprise we may serve out to your friends?" The Honduran's tone wasmocking, bantering, but Tom Halstead, filled with curiosity, acceptedthe invitation. Alvarez led the way, the two seamen going behind theboy.
On the deck aft stood something of considerable size, covered by acanvas tarpaulin.
"Take off the covering," directed Don Emilio. The two seamen obeyed.
"Fine, is it not?" chuckled Alvarez, pointing to a brightly polishedbrass cannon.
"Yes; fine--not!" spoke Tom, in a voice of mingled anger and disgust.
"It is a signal gun, such as every vessel is allowed to carry," chuckledDon Emilio. "But our signal gun will also carry a two-inch shell--and wehave plenty of ammunition. If your precious 'Meteor' attempts to followus to-night we shall send her to the bottom of the ocean! You see, ourcargo is needed by brave and patriotic men in Honduras, and we aredesperate enough to take it there in the face of everyone."
Then, changing his tone, Alvarez, as he glared at the boy, went on:
"Once you were good enough to ask me what I would do to you if I had youin Honduras. Well, I shall show you, for you are bound for that finelittle country!"