CHAPTER XXII
A LIFE GUARD'S ALARM
Fortune played into the hands of our friends in two ways as they soughtto capture the wreckers. Otherwise the desperate men might have gottenaway, so quickly did they dash out of the clearing at the first alarm.
But, as he ran along, big Hemp Danforth, the leader of the criminals,stumbled and fell. Right behind him was sturdy Tom Cardiff, and theassistant lighthouse keeper was quick to take advantage of the chancethus put in his way.
"I've got you!" he yelled, as he fairly threw himself on the prostratewrecker. "I've got you! Give up, you varmint!"
There was a struggle, none the less desperate because the wrecker wasunderneath. The two rolled on the ground until Tom got a grip on hisopponent. Then, by putting forth his enormous strength, Tom quicklysubdued the man.
"Give up, I tell you!" panted Tom, breathing hard. "I'll teach you towreck ships. Give up!"
"I give up!" was the sullen response.
With a quick turn of the ropes he had brought, Tom had the wreckertrussed up.
Meanwhile the others had been busy. The secret service men had eachtackled a man, and had him secure by now, while Joe and Blake, by mutualagreement picking out another member of the party had, after a struggle,succeeded in tying him, too.
But the wreckers outnumbered our friends two to one, and some, if notall, of the desperate characters might have escaped had notreinforcements appeared. These were in the shape of four sturdyfishermen from the little colony where the moving picture boys lived.
"Oh, if we could only capture the others!" cried Tom Cardiff, when hehad finished with his man, and saw some of the wreckers struggling tomake their way through the thick bush. "Come on, boys!" he yelled to hisfriends. "When you finish with those fellows keep after the rest of thegang, though I'm afraid they'll give us the slip."
"No, they won't!" cried a new voice, and then appeared the husky toilersof the sea, armed with stout clubs. At the sight of them the wreckersnot yet captured gave up in despair. Counting those tied up, the forceswere now equal, and as Mr. Hadley had taken all the moving picturespossible, owing to the struggle taking place out of range of hiscamera, he left the apparatus, and joined his friends.
"Well, we got 'em!" cried Tom Cardiff, as he surveyed the line ofprisoners, fastened together with ropes. "Every one of 'em, I guess.You're a nice crowd!" he sneered at big Hemp Danforth. "A nice lot ofmen to be let loose!"
"A little later and you wouldn't have had us!" snarled the leader of thewreckers. "You were too many for us."
"That's so," spoke Tom. "How did you happen to come to help us?" heasked of Abe Haskill, who was one of the reinforcing fishermen. "Whosent you?"
"Old Stanton telephoned over from the lighthouse," was the answer. "Hesaid you were on your way here, and that the gang might be too much foryou. So I got a couple of my friends, and over we came--just in time,too, I take it."
"That's right!" exclaimed Blake, trying to staunch the flow of bloodfrom a cut on his face, received in the fight he and Joe had with theirprisoner. Joe himself was somewhat bruised. "A little later and we'd hadonly half of 'em," went on Blake.
"It looks as if the lantern was nearly finished, too," went on Joe.
"Um!" sneered the chief wrecker. "You may think you have us, but it's along way from proving anything against us. What have we done that'swrong?" and he looked defiantly at Tom Cardiff.
"Wrong!" cried the lighthouse man. "Don't you call it wrong to set up afalse light to lure unsuspecting captains on the rocks, so you can getyour pickings? Wrong!"
"Huh! How do you know but what this light was put here as a range finderfor us fishermen?" asked the other.
"Fishermen! Why, you men never did an honest day's fishing in yourlives!" cried Abe Haskill. "Fishing! When you haven't been smugglingyou've been wrecking, or robbing other honest men's nets. You're a bunchof scoundrels, and it's the best day's work we've done in many a year toget you!"
"That's all right," retorted Hemp, easily. "Words don't prove anything."
"They don't; eh?" cried Tom Cardiff. "You'll see what they do. We'llconvict you by your own words!"
"Our own words?" asked Hemp Danforth, uneasily.
"Yes, overheard by these two lads, whom you chased but couldn't catch. Iguess when Blake Stewart and Joe Duncan go into court, and testifyabout hearing you talk of wrecking vessels by your false lantern, thejury'll convict you, all right!"
Hemp seemed less concerned with what Tom said than with the name JoeDuncan. As this was uttered the wrecker looked at the two lads.
"Did I understand him to say that one of you is a Duncan?" asked Hemp,curiously.
"I am," replied Joe.
"Are you Nate Duncan's son?"
"I hope so--yes, I'm sure I am."
"Ha! Ha!" laughed the wrecker.
"What's the joke?" inquired Tom Cardiff.
"This, and it's a good one, too. You think to convict us on thetestimony of Nate Duncan's son. Why, Nate is one of us! His son'sevidence wouldn't be any good. Besides, a son wouldn't help to convicthis father. That's a good one. Nate Duncan is one of us!"
"That's not so!" burst out Joe, jumping toward the big wrecker, asthough to strike him. "It isn't true. My father never was a wrecker."
"He wasn't; eh?" sneered Hemp. "Well, I'm not saying we are, either; butif your father isn't a wrecker why did he run away before the officerscame for him? Answer me that--if you can!"
"I--I--" began Joe, when Blake stepped to his chum's side.
"Don't answer him," counseled Blake. "It will only make matters worse.It will all come out right."
"I'm sure of it," said Joe. "Poor Dad, I wish he were here to defendhimself; but, as he isn't, I'll stick up for him."
"Well, if you're through talking I guess we'll move along," suggestedTom at this point. "There are a few empty cells in the jail at SanDiego, I understand, and they'll just about accommodate you chaps."
"Are--are you going to put us in jail?" faltered one of the prisoners, ayoung man.
"That's what we are," answered Tom.
"Oh, don't. I'll tell--I'll----"
"You'll keep still--that's what you'll do!" snapped Hemp. "I'll fix youif you don't!" and he glared at the youth in such a way that the lattersaid no more. "I'll manage this thing," went on Hemp. "You keep stilland they can't do a thing to us. Now go ahead; take us to jail if youwant to."
"That's what we will," declared Tom, and a little later the prisonerswere on their way to San Diego, where they were locked up. Somesuspected wreckers had been taken into custody when Mr. Duncan wasaccused, but nothing had been proved against them.
"Well, that was a good day's work!" declared Mr. Hadley late thatafternoon, when he and the moving picture boys were back at theirquarters. "We not only got the wreckers, but a fine film of the capturebesides."
"And we're in it," said Blake. "Joe, how will it seem to see yourself ona screen?"
"Oh, rather odd, I guess," and Joe spoke listlessly.
"Now look here!" exclaimed his chum. "I know what's worrying you. It'swhat Hemp said about your father; isn't it?"
"Yes, Blake, it is."
"Well then, you just stop thinking about it. Before you know it yourfather may arrive in Hong Kong, get your letter, and send back ananswer. Then everything will be cleared up. Meanwhile, we've got to getbusy; there are a lot of films to make, I understand."
"Indeed there are," declared Mr. Ringold. "I have my sea drama all readyfor the films now. I don't know what to do about a wreck, though. I'mafraid I can't make it realistic enough. I must make other plans aboutthat scene. But get your cameras in good shape, boys, for there isplenty of work ahead."
"We can keep right on the job," said Joe, "for I guess we've aboutcleaned up the wreckers."
No members of the gang had escaped, as far as could be learned, and therenewed work of getting evidence to be used at the trial was in thehands of the government men. The false lantern, which had first giventhe boys the clue, wa
s taken down, and proved to be a most ingeniouspiece of apparatus. Had it been used it would undoubtedly have luredsome ships on the rocks.
The work of making the preliminary scenes of the sea drama were underway. It took the best part of three weeks to get what was needed, forMr. Ringold was very particular, and insisted on many rehearsals, thesetaking longer than the actual making of the films.
Joe and Blake were kept busy, as was also their young assistant,Macaroni, and Mr. Hadley.
"Everything is going beautifully," said Mr. Ringold one day. "If wecould only have a storm and wreck to order, now, I would ask nothingbetter."
"Yes, everything is nice, except that we're being worked to death,"spoke C. C. Piper, gloomily. "I've lost ten pounds in the last week."
"It will do you good," said Miss Lee, with a laugh. "You were gettingtoo stout, anyhow."
"Oh, what a world!" sighed the comedian, as he began whistling thelatest comic song.
"It looks like a storm," remarked Blake, as he and Joe came in oneevening from a stroll on the beach.
"And when it does come," added Joe, "it's going to be a bad one, so oldAbe, the fisherman, says. They're putting storm signals up all along thecoast, and all leaves of absence for the life guards have been cancelledfor the next week. A storm sometimes lasts that long, Abe says."
"A storm; eh?" remarked Mr. Ringold, absentmindedly. "Well, that willinterfere with our plans for to-morrow. I had intended to have somepeaceful scenes on the beach; but I'll postpone them. I wish I couldwork out this wreck problem," he added, as he pored over the manuscriptof the sea drama.
One did not need to go outdoors that morning to appreciate the fury ofthe storm. The gale had come in the night, and the force of the wind hadsteadily increased until its violence was terrific. There was no rain,as yet, but the sky was obscured by hurrying black clouds.
"Let's go down to the beach and see the big waves," proposed Blake toJoe after breakfast.
"All right," agreed his chum. "There won't be anything doing in themoving picture line to-day, I guess."
"Say, that's some surf!" cried Joe in his chum's ear, as they got to thesandy stretch. "Look at those waves!"
"I guess they're what you call 'mountain high,'" answered Blake, himselfyelling, for their ordinary voices could not be heard above the thunderof the surf and the roar of the gale.
They stood for a few minutes watching the big rollers pounding on thesand, and then, looking down the strand, they saw a figure runningtoward them.
"Here comes a life guard," remarked Joe.
"And he acts as if something was up," added Blake.
Nearer came the man, dressed in yellow oilskins, for the spray from thesea flew far inland, almost like rain. Joe and Blake had on rubbercoats.
"What is it?" cried Blake, as the man came opposite.
He held his hands in funnel shape and yelled:
"A wreck--a big sailing vessel is coming ashore! Her masts are gone, andshe can't get off! She'll strike soon. I want all the men I can get tohelp us with the breeches buoy. We can't launch our boat--too heavysurf!"