The Boy Scouts' Mountain Camp Part 9

CHAPTER IX.

WHAT SCOUT HOPKINS DID.

When young Hopkins came to himself, he was dimly conscious that the driving motion of the sloop had ceased. Instead, lying there in the pitchy darkness of the hold, he could feel the vessel being struck with what appeared to be mighty blows from a t.i.tanic hammer. Tubby guessed instantly, from the sensations, that they were aground, and that what he felt was the terrific bombardment of enormous breakers.

A swift "overhauling" of himself soon showed the lad that he was not hurt, although the blow on his head, when he had been hurled from the ladder, had stunned him. Of how long he had been unconscious, he had, of course, no knowledge. Worse still, he could not form any idea of how to get out of his dark prison, and he realized that he had no time to lose if he wanted to save Hiram and himself.

Risking the chance that their enemies were prowling about, waiting for the lad to declare himself, Tubby set up a shout.

"Hiram! Oh, Hiram!"

In the intervals of the cras.h.i.+ng blows that shook the frail sloop from stem to stern, Tubby listened intently. But for some time no answering cry came to greet him. Then all at once he thought he caught a feeble shout. He responded, and the cry came more distinctly. Guided by it, he made his way aft with considerable difficulty. Presently a dim, gray light, filtering through the blackness, apprised him that he was nearing the door in the bulkhead through which he had blundered into the hold. A moment more and he had pa.s.sed through the engine-room and was in the cabin. Hiram, looking pale and wild, was clinging to a stanchion. Water had come into the cabin through a broken port, and was was.h.i.+ng about the floor.

"Oh, Tubby, I'm so glad you've come. Where have you been?" breathed the unfortunate Hiram, weak and shaky from his bout with seasickness. "What is happening?"

"I guess we're aground somewhere," rejoined Tubby. "I'm going to see."

He made for the companionway and rattled the door at the top. As he had dreaded, it was locked. They were prisoners on board a doomed vessel. For an instant even young Hopkins' resourcefulness came to a standstill. His heart seemed to stop beating. His head swam madly. Was this to be the end of them, to be drowned miserably, like two captive rats?

But the next instant the thought of their plight acted as a stimulus. "A true Scout should never say die," thought the boy, and then, retracing his steps, he joined Hiram.

"What's become of Hunt and his outfit?" he asked.

"Why, Stonington Hunt and Freeman pa.s.sed through the cabin a few minutes ago," replied Hiram, "right after that terrible b.u.mp----"

"When the sloop struck," thought Tubby. Aloud he said:

"Well?"

"I heard them say that you were done for, and that I could be left to drown."

"Yes, yes, Hiram; but did they say anything about escaping themselves?"

"Yes. I heard them shouting on deck to cut loose the boat. Then I heard a lot of noise. I guess they launched her. That's all, till I heard you shouting back in there."

"Humph!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Tubby; "so they left us to perish on this old sloop, eh? Well, Hiram, we'll fool 'em. We'll get away yet in spite of them." In talking thus, young Hopkins a.s.sumed a confidence he was far from feeling, but he deemed it best to stimulate Hiram with hope.

"Got any matches?" was his next question.

Hiram nodded, and presently handed out a box.

"Good. Now follow me. By the way, how's the seasickness?"

"Oh, better, but I feel shaky yet. I can manage, though."

"That's the stuff--wough!"

A heavier blow than usual had been dealt the sloop. The two lads could feel her quiver and quake under the concussion like a live thing.

"Come on, we've got to move quick," said Tubby. Striking a match, he set off into the hold. Hiram followed. Before long they stood at the foot of the ladder from which Tubby had been so violently flung a short time before.

The stout youth darted up it with an agility one would not have expected in a boy of his girth. With the strongest shove of which he was capable, he pushed up the scuttle above.

To his great joy, it gave, swinging back on hinges. But, as he opened it fully, Tubby came nearly being hurled from the ladder for the second time. A great ma.s.s of green water swept across the deck at that instant, and the full force of the torrent descended into the hole through the open hatch. Luckily, Tubby had seen it coming in time to warn Hiram, and the downeast lad clung on tightly enough to avoid being carried from his foothold.

In a jiffy young Hopkins clambered through, shouting to Hiram to follow him. It was a wild scene that met both boys' eyes when they emerged on the deck of the stranded sloop. She lay in a small inlet which, though partially sheltered, in hard storms was swept by the seas from outside.

The sloop was heeled over to one side at so steep an angle that standing on her wet decks was impossible without clinging to something.

About three hundred yards away lay the sh.o.r.e, a wild, uninhabited expanse of wind-swept sand dunes, overgrown with dull, green and p.r.i.c.kly beach-gra.s.s. No sign of a human habitation could be discerned. Outside on the beach the big seas thundered, flinging ma.s.ses of white foam skyward.

It seemed almost impossible that she could have been navigated through the narrow inlet leading into the small bay where she had stranded. As a matter of fact, it had been more by luck than by design that she had accomplished the pa.s.sage.

All at once, as the two castaways stood looking about them, a figure bobbed up from behind one of the sand hills. It was instantly recognized by Tubby as Stonington Hunt. The lad now saw that a boat lay on the beach; evidently then, that was how they had reached the sh.o.r.e, as Hiram had surmised. Hunt had apparently been seeking shelter from the storm behind the dune, with the rest of his band. As his eyes fell on the figures of the two Boy Scouts standing on the deck of the stranded sloop, he beckoned toward the dune. Instantly there appeared the rest of the lads' enemies.

They stood staring for a few minutes, as if amazed to see the Boy Scouts.

But before they had time to take any action, an astonis.h.i.+ng thing happened.

The sloop began to move.

The incoming tide, which had been steadily rising, had floated her, and she gradually reeled off the sand bank, on which she had struck, into open water. As she did so, Tubby suddenly ducked low, and something whistled by his head. Above the wind came the crack of a firearm's report. Gazing toward Stonington Hunt, Tubby saw that the man held a revolver in his hand. It was from this weapon, evidently, that the projectile had been discharged.

"Get out of the way, Hiram, quick!" exclaimed the stout lad, for he now saw that the others were preparing to discharge pistols at them. It was apparent that they did not mean the boys to escape if they could avoid it.

But Tubby had suddenly thought of a plan. It had been born in his mind when the sloop rolled off the shoal into deep water. He knew something of gasoline engines from his experiences on board the _Flying Fish_. Why would it not be possible to get out of the little and dangerous bay under motor power? The shots hastened his decision. Clearly if they remained where they were, destruction swift and certain threatened. Stonington Hunt did not mean to let them land, so much was only too apparent.

Before the men left the sloop they had hauled down the canvas, probably in an effort to keep her from grounding. It was the work of an instant for Tubby to dash below and give a turn to the rear starting device on the engine. It worked perfectly. Then he turned on the gasolene, easily finding the connection, and threw on the switch. A blue spark showed that the current was on. Then, with a beating heart he turned the starting device once more.

Bang!

The engine moved. To the lad's delight it worked steadily. This done, he darted back on deck and took the wheel. He was not a moment too soon, for, with no one at the helm, the craft was heading once more for the sand bank. Crouching beneath the stern bulwarks, and ordering Hiram to do the same, young Hopkins navigated the sloop skilfully ahead, steering straight for the open sea. Tempestuous as it was, the sloop seemed still staunch, and he felt they were safer there than in such close proximity to Hunt. Especially since they were followed by an unceasing fire from the pistols of the gang. But although some of the shots splintered the bulwarks, sending showers of slivers about the two crouching lads, neither were hit.

At last, after a dozen hair-raising escapes on the choppy bar, the sloop gained the outside, and throwing showers of spray high over her bluff bows, began to breast the sweep of the seas.

"Go below and take a look at the gla.s.s oil cups," ordered Tubby as soon as they were safe from the firing, "if any of them are empty fill them.

There is an oil can on a shelf beside the motor."

Glad to do anything to help out, Hiram hastened on this errand. He was below about ten minutes. When he returned on deck his face was white, and he was breathing quickly. Tubby's quick eye noted, too, that the lad was wet to the waist.

"What's up below?" he demanded.

"The cabin's half full of water, and it seems to be rising every minute;"

was the disquieting reply.

At the same instant the sloop's motion stopped and she began rolling in a sickening fas.h.i.+on in the troughs of the mighty seas.

"Jehoshaphat!" exclaimed Scout Hopkins, "we're in for it now. The water's reached the engine and it's stopped!"