The Radio Boys with the Revenue Guards Part 16

"How should we know?" asked Mike. "We was comin' up from the beach wid another cargo o' the stuff when we hear it."

"Mistuh Higginbotham went up to de roof wid two men," interposed the gigantic negro. "Leastways, he done went up to see 'bout dem prisonahs an' ax 'em a few quistions."

"You're right, George," said Ryan. "I'd forgotten. Listen to that.

There they go again. Come on."

He darted for the outer door, the negro George, Pete and Mike at his heels. The crowd of mixed whites and blacks in the doorway gave 'way before him. In a trice they all were gone. The room was deserted.

"Now is our chance," said Captain Folsom, to the three boys and Tom Barnum, crouching beside him. "Come on. We must get downstairs and out of the house before they return, for return they will as soon as they understand what the fellows on the roof have to tell of our mysterious disappearance."

He darted down the stairs, two at a time, with the four others close behind him. Halfway across the big room, however, he halted abruptly and groaned:

"Too late. They're coming back."

"Here," cried Jack, seizing him by an arm, and pus.h.i.+ng him along.

"Quick, fellows, through this door. It's a chance."

Jack had observed a closed door, near the piano, and the others followed pell-mell behind him and Captain Folsom. Frank, the last to enter, closed the door and, finding his hand encounter a key, turned it in the lock.

None too soon. They could hear shouts and curses, as the mob surged up the stairway.

Jack, meanwhile, had been flas.h.i.+ng Tom's torch about and, discovering a wall switch, had pressed a b.u.t.ton. At once an electric light in the ceiling flashed on, revealing that they were in a large pantry.

Bottles of liquor stood about and, on a tray, were a number of sandwiches.

"That black butler was preparing to feed his boss," surmised Frank.

"Well, those chicken sandwiches look all right. I'm goin' to have one.

Hungry."

And without more ado, Frank took a sandwich and began eating.

"Great stuff," he said.

"Say, you, come on," called Jack, smiling a little, nevertheless, despite his anxiety. "Think of eating at a time like this!"

"Why not?" said Frank, polis.h.i.+ng off the first sandwich and taking another. "Well, lead on, Macduff. Where you going?"

"There's no way out of this except by the cellar," Jack replied, already having opened the other door of the pantry and shot the rays of his searchlight down the stairway. "Shall we try it?"

"We can't stay here," answered Captain Folsom. "They're searching the rooms above us right now, by the sound of it. Soon they'll be down here. And we can't go out through the living room, because I've withdrawn the key and peeped through the keyhole in the door and can see two men on guard at the foot of the stairway."

Tom Barnum up to this moment had had little to say. Now, however, he came forward with a remark that caused the others to stare in amazement.

"There's said to be a secret pa.s.sage from the cellar to Starfish Cove or thereabouts," he said. "I don't know nothin' about it, but that's what folks say. They say as how old Pirate Brownell was afraid his sins would catch up with him some day, and hoped to escape by the pa.s.sage when the avengers came. He couldn't do it, however. He wasn't quick enough."

"A secret pa.s.sage?" said Jack. "Come on. Last man closes the cellar door and locks it from the inside."

Frank was the last to go. Before quitting the pantry, he stuffed the remaining sandwiches into his trousers pockets, seized on a tremendous butcher knife which was lying on the butler's cabinet, and switched off the light. Then he locked the cellar stairway door, and descended to where the others awaited him at the foot.

They stood, as well as they could discern, in the midst of a huge cellar piled high with cases upon cases of bottles and barrels, too.

"Whew," said Captain Folsom, "this looks like a bonded liquor warehouse. If we could only raid this place right now, it would be the richest haul in the history of the country since the nation went dry."

"Is all this liquor?" asked Frank, incredulously.

"It is," said Captain Folsom, pulling a bottle from the nearest case and examining the label critically. "And it's the genuine stuff, too.

Brought in from the Bahamas. English and Scotch whiskey."

Louder shouts overhead and the noise of many feet descending stairs warned them the pursuit had drawn to the ground floor, and that they were in momentary danger of discovery.

"Those two doors won't hold long," said Jack, anxiously. "If we can't find that tunnel entrance, we are out of luck. I think myself, we had better look for a door to the outside and try to escape that way."

At that moment, Tom Barnum's voice, low but tense and thrilling with excitement, came out of the darkness ahead.

"Mister Jack, Mister Jack, come here. Here where ye see my light."

The others had not missed Tom before. But immediately on reaching the cellar, he had gone exploring by the light of the matches he had found in his pockets, without troubling Jack for the flashlight.

Hurriedly, the others now made their way to where a dim gleam of light which went out before they reached it only to be succeeded by another, showed where Tom was awaiting them. When they reached his side, they found him crouched at the foot of a wall, pus.h.i.+ng and straining at a big barrel.

"Lend a hand," he panted. "The entrance is back here."

Almost over their heads on the floor above, an attack was made at this moment on the door connecting living room and pantry. They could hear the shouts to surrender, to unlock the door, and the blows being rained upon the barrier.

"Push. It's a-movin'."

The barrel did move aside sufficiently to admit of a man getting between it and the wall, and in the rays of the flashlight appeared a small, door-like opening in the stone.

"In with ye, every one," said Tom. "I'll pile a couple o' these cases on top of each other to cover up the entrance, an' climb over it."

The door above, the first of the two impeding pursuit, fell with a splintering crash. There was a shout of triumph, giving way to surprise when the pantry was found untenanted. Captain Folsom and the boys without more delay crawled into the opening. They could hear Tom piling cases over the entrance, then a thud as, having climbed his barricade, he dropped to the cellar floor on the inside. Then he joined them.

Once more, Jack called the precious flashlight into play, and all could see they stood in a narrow, brick-walled tunnel, with a vaulted roof above. It was some four feet high, preventing them from standing upright, and the walls were a yard apart. The next moment the flashlight flickered and died.

"Gone," said Jack. "Burned out. Now we are ditched."

"Not yet," said Captain Folsom, resolutely. "Barnum, how many matches have you?"

"About a dozen left in this packet," answered Tom's voice in the darkness. "But they're them paper things the cigar companies give away. Got 'em the other day when I was to the village. They're not much good."

"They're better than nothing," answered the captain. "They were good enough to enable you to find this tunnel. Come, there's no need to despair. I've got some matches myself, big ones. I'll give them to you, and do you lead the way."

Striking a match, he located Tom behind him. Handing him a dozen big matches which he had found in a trousers pocket, he pressed against the wall to permit of Tom's pa.s.sing him. The others did likewise.

"Keep right behind me an' touchin' each other," said Tom. "I can feel the wall on each side with my hands, an' so can the rest of ye as we go along. I'll save the matches till we need them."

Without more ado, he set out, Jack, Bob, Frank and Captain Folsom at his heels in the order mentioned. They found that, despite the pitchy-black darkness, they were able to make good progress, for the narrow confines of the tunnel permitted of no going astray. All kept listening with strained attention for sounds of pursuit, but none came for so long they began to feel more hopeful. Perhaps, their pursuers did not know of the secret pa.s.sage. No, that was unlikely, inasmuch as one or other of the smugglers must have seen the tunnel mouth when he placed that barrel before it. Faint shouts from the cellar came to their ears, indicating a search for them was in progress there. The smugglers probably would look to see whether they were hidden among the barrels and cases, and not until that search had been thoroughly prosecuted would they investigate the tunnel.

These reflections were exchanged among them as they proceeded.

Suddenly the air, which had been remarkably fresh, although earthy-smelling, became cleaner. All felt they were approaching an exit. The next moment Tom Barnum stumbled and fell forward.