Jack Harvey's Adventures Part 21

Howls of wrath from George and Arthur Warren were united with yells of dismay from Young Joe, as he was dragged from his hiding place, still holding a piece of the cake in his hand, loth even then to part with the evidence of his guilt.

"Ow, wow!" yelled George Warren. "Pilfering from to-morrow's feast, are you, Joey? Say, what'll we do with him, Arthur?"

"Invite him out into the kitchen and make him eat some of those raw oysters that Mammy Stevens has to stuff to-morrow's turkey," replied Arthur Warren, who always had some original idea in a matter of this kind.

Young Joe gave another howl of dismay, and made a bolt for a side door that led out into the yard. The mere thought of raw oysters caused him to drop the slice of cake and consider nothing but flight. The brothers and Henry Warren darted after him, but he slipped the catch of the door, opened it-and, with head down, b.u.t.ted all unexpectedly into a thick, short, burly man, who had been about to knock for admittance at the very moment.

The result was, that the stranger lost his balance and fell off the stoop, rolling over and over on the ground. He was unhurt, for he sprang up quickly, shook his fist at the surprised youth, and roared out in a hoa.r.s.e sea voice.

"Confound you, for a clumsy, b.u.t.ting young lubber!" he cried, rubbing the pit of his stomach, and glaring at Young Joe. "What kind of a way is that to treat folks as comes to your door? Ain't you got eyes? If you has 'em, why doesn't you use 'em, and not be a ramming heads into other folks's stomachs?"

The man, in his wrath and excitement, spoke as though there had been several Young Joes and at least a half dozen of himself, engaged in a most extraordinary encounter-all of which did not tend to abate the mirth of Young Joe and his companions, who also had caught a glimpse of the man rolling over on the lawn.

"He has a habit of doing that," spoke up Henry Burns, in a quiet, serious tone. "We haven't been able to break him of it ever since he was a kid.

We keep him chained up most of the time, but he just got loose."

The man, flus.h.i.+ng redder, turned an angry eye on Henry Burns.

"Who asked you what was the matter?" he demanded. "You'd get chained up, if I had you out aboard. You wouldn't be talking so smart to folks as has their stomachs run into by a crazy, June-bug b.o.o.by of a boy. I reckon the end of a jib halliard would teach you some manners."

The man's reply surprised Henry Burns, and interested him. He looked at the squat, chunky figure, the big, round head with its shock of reddish hair, and the dull gray eyes that glinted angrily at him. His retort was, on its part, a surprise to the man.

"Do you knock your crew down?" he asked, in a matter-of-fact way, as though he had been merely inquiring the time of day.

The stranger was too taken aback for a moment to reply. It was a new type of boy to him-one who could put a query of that kind as calmly and dispa.s.sionately as though he were a lawyer, trained to keep his temper.

Then the man advanced, with hand raised threateningly.

"Get out of my way, you young rascals!" he said. "Where's the man as lives in this ere house? His name's Warren, isn't it-where is he?"

Edward Warren, who had remained in the background, amused at the unusual situation, now stepped to the door and inquired what the man wanted.

"I want to do some trade," replied the man. "At least, that's what I came for, when that boy, he comes out at me like a crazy steer. I hear you have some potatoes to sell. My name is Haley, and I'm lying off sh.o.r.e there."

He pointed with a jerk of his thumb out toward the river, evidently intending to convey the idea-somewhat different from his words-that it was his vessel, and not himself, that was "lying off sh.o.r.e."

"Well," answered Edward Warren, "it's a time I don't usually do business, on Christmas eve, but since you've come up, I guess you can have them.

I've got two or three barrels in the cellar. Come on out."

Captain Hamilton Haley, muttering a retort that Christmas eve was as good a time for buying potatoes as any other, so far as he knew, so long as he had a chance to come and get them, followed Edward Warren away. A third man, who had remained in the background, went along with them. It was Jim Adams, the mate.

The bargain was made, Haley saying that he would be back the day after Christmas for the potatoes; whereupon he and the mate went on again up the country road. Edward Warren returned to the house.

"That's a rough customer, that man Haley," he remarked, as he resumed his seat by the fire. "He's a specimen of the dredging captain that gives the fleet a hard name."

"The kind that knocks his men down," remarked Henry Burns.

"That seems to have made a great impression on your mind," said Edward Warren, turning to the boy. Henry Burns's face was serious, and he spoke with unusual demonstrativeness for him, for he doubled up his fist and struck the arm of his chair with it.

"Ever since I saw that fellow knocked down," he replied, "I've wanted to tell one of those captains what I think of it. I'd have done it to-night, if he hadn't said he came to trade with you."

Edward Warren laughed. "You could have told him anything you liked, for all of me," he said. "But you chaps better turn in pretty soon. We're going after rabbits, to-morrow forenoon, you know. Mammy Stevens makes a rabbit saddle roast that beats turkey."

"Great!" murmured Young Joe.

The darkness that enveloped the old Warren homestead, when, one by one, its lights went out and the household sank into stillness, was illumined by brilliant starlight in the heavens. It was a glorious Christmas eve, clear, frosty, cold-just the night a traveller on the road, warmly dressed and well fed, might enjoy to the utmost. The wind had died down and the night was very still. The vessels in the Patuxent swung lazily with the tide. Now and then the sound of an untiring banjo, or guitar or accordion, or a s.n.a.t.c.h of song, came across the black water to those that lay nearer the Solomon's island sh.o.r.e. Across on the western sh.o.r.e, all was still, save for the occasional barking of a dog in some farmyard.

The bug-eye Brandt, for the convenience of its owner in going up country after some supplies, lay nearer the latter bank of the river, though with the usual discretion in the matter of distance-greater even than customary, following the escape of the mulatto seaman. There was no other craft near by. All aboard were apparently asleep, and not even a light showed in the fore-rigging, to warn others where she lay.

Down in the dingy forecastle, however, two persons were astir. They moved about quietly, not to disturb the other sleepers, though the latter slumbered heavily and would not be easily aroused.

"Well, Jack," said the taller of the two, b.u.t.toning his coat and proceeding to thrust his legs into a pair of oil-skin trousers, "this is the night we celebrate, eh?"

Jack Harvey turned a face, set with determination, toward his companion, and answered, huskily, "Tom, old man, I'm going ash.o.r.e to-night, if I have to swim for it. Celebrate! You bet I'm going to celebrate-and so are you. We can do it, too. I've watched and watched, and it's our chance.

Haley and Jim Adams both gone, and no one here to stop us."

"Except the cook," interrupted Tom Edwards.

"Let him try it!" exclaimed Jack Harvey, his face flus.h.i.+ng angrily at the mere suggestion. "Just let him try it! I tell you I'm going ash.o.r.e to-night, Tom Edwards, and there isn't any George Haley in Maryland that can stop me."

Tom Edwards slapped the boy on the shoulder.

"That's the way to look at it, when we once start," he said. "My muscles aren't so soft, either, as when I came aboard. I guess I could do something on a pinch. But he's got a revolver, probably."

Harvey shrugged his shoulders.

"He can't stop us this time," he said. "I tell you it's Christmas eve, and we're in luck. Haley's left us a Christmas present of that old float and junks of fire-wood and odds and ends of stuff, in the hold; and we'll sail ash.o.r.e on it like sliding down hill. Come on."

They went cautiously out on deck.

"My! but it's chilly," muttered Tom Edwards, turning the collar of his slicker up about his neck. "If we didn't have these oil-skins we'd pretty nearly freeze to death."

"We'll warm up when we get to work," replied Harvey.

The two proceeded to the main hatch, through which the most of the oysters were put into the hold, and lifted it a little. It was a huge affair, and so heavy it took their united strength to stir it and drag it away, so they could have access to the hold.

"We've got to have that lantern," said Harvey, and he went and got the one from the forecastle. Then he sprang down into the hold.

"I'll pa.s.s the stuff up to you," he said, "and you set it down on the deck. But look out and don't drop any."

Hanging the lantern so he could see to work, Harvey presently pa.s.sed a piece of timber out to Tom Edwards. This was followed by several pieces of planking, exceedingly heavy, bits of board and even some long sticks of firewood-branches of oak that had been picked up by the crew down along sh.o.r.e. It was all more or less soggy with the dampness of the hold; some of it seemed to be completely soaked through. It nearly proved their undoing.

Tom Edwards, disregarding Harvey's admonition to wait till he could a.s.sist in carrying the wood to the side of the vessel, started with a stick of the timber. Of a sudden, a rotted edge of it crumbled and broke away in his hands. The heavy stick slipped from his grasp and slammed down upon the deck. The next moment Harvey leaped out on deck, in alarm.

"Tom, that made an awful racket!" he said, anxiously. "Listen. By Jove!

we're in for it now. There's somebody stirring-it's in the cabin. Tom, you get down into that hold quicker'n scat; and if Haley comes, you talk to him, but don't let him see you. I'll take care of him."

It was an odd situation, that the positions of man and boy should be reversed at the crisis. But Tom Edwards was not the equal of Jack Harvey in strength, and he knew it. Years of activity, at baseball, swimming, yachting and the like, had developed Harvey into an athlete of no mean proportions, as the muscles that played beneath his sweater denoted; Tom Edwards had been flabby and easily winded when he came aboard the dredger, and he had had little chance to gain strength with the bad food that Haley provided. Now he obeyed Harvey, without a question. He sprang into the hold, and Harvey darted back and hid behind the shadow of the forecastle.

They were not much too soon, nor had Harvey been deceived in the sounds he had heard. The cook, awakened by the noise, and mindful of the parting injunction of Hamilton Haley that the vessel and crew were in his keeping, stepped out of the companion and looked forward. In his right hand he held Haley's revolver.