“Now fellows,” said Walter, as they rode along the carriage-way, “let’s divide the work, so that there may be no delay. Eugene, put the horses in the stable and feed them. Bab and Wilson, go down and pull the Banner out of the bayou, loosen the sails, and get everything ready for an immediate start. While you are doing that, Perk and I will go in and get on some dry clothing, and tell father and Uncle Dick what has happened. When we come down to the boat we’ll bring a couple of baskets of provisions with us.” As soon as the boys reached the house they sprang from their saddles, and hurried off to perform the work assigned them. Ten minutes afterwards, when Walter and Perk, none the worse for their cold bath in the bayou, joined the rest of the Club on board the yacht, they found her all ready for sea. The hatches had been thrown open, the[290] cabin unlocked, the binnacle lighted, the lamps hoisted at the catheads, the sails were loose and flapping in the wind, and the little vessel was held to the bank by a bow and stern line, both ends of which were made fast on deck so that they could be cast off without going ashore.
“Fellows, I am afraid that you have done all this work for nothing,” exclaimed Walter, as he and Perk sprang over the rail and deposited their baskets of provisions on deck. “Uncle Dick has not got back yet, and neither has father.”
The expression of disappointment that settled on the faces of the yacht’s crew, as well as the exclamations they uttered, showed that this was anything but a pleasant piece of news. Uncle Dick was just the man for the occasion. He would have entered heartily into their scheme—he was interested in everything his young friends did—and he would have carried it out successfully, too.
“They are still out looking for Featherweight,” continued Walter, “and haven’t been home since morning. I told mother where we are going and what we intend to do, and she says that when they return she will send them after us in the Lookout.”
The Lookout was Mr. Gaylord’s yacht. When[291] the season closed she had been left at the village for repairs; and although the work on her was all completed, she had not yet been brought home. The boys would have been glad to make the cruise with her instead of the Banner, for she was a much swifter boat; but it required a crew of ten men to handle her, and that was a larger force than they could raise.
“Shall we wait for Uncle Dick, or go without him?” asked Walter, in conclusion.
“Let’s go now,” exclaimed Eugene. “There’s no knowing what we may lose by an hour’s delay. I’d as soon trust myself on the Gulf with you as with Uncle Dick.”
The other boys expressed the same unlimited confidence in their young commander, and urged an immediate departure; and Walter, who, like all modest young fellows, had a poor opinion of his abilities, turned to Perk, whom he had selected to act as his assistant, and rather reluctantly ordered him to get the yacht under way.
The members of the Club were in their element now, and if Featherweight had only been with them they would have been as happy as boys could well be. They loved their horses, and were quite[292] at home in the saddle; but a staunch, swift vessel was what they most delighted in. The Banner suited them exactly. She was small—not more than one-fourth the size of the smuggling vessel—but she had been built under Walter’s own supervision, with an eye to comfort and safety rather than speed, and the boys knew that they could trust her anywhere.
In the forward part of the vessel, where the forecastle would have been located if she had had one, was the galley. It was a small apartment, of course, but it was well fitted up, and provided with everything in the shape of pots, pans, and kettles that any cook could possibly find use for. A door in one side of it opened directly into the cabin, which occupied the whole of the after-part of the vessel, no space being taken up with state-rooms. It was carpeted, and furnished with a small writing desk and chairs in abundance. Two lockers, one on each side, extended the whole length of it, and in them were stored away the hammocks in which the crew slept, the dishes, knives, forks and other things belonging to the table, and there was also plenty of space for the Club’s hunting and fishing accoutrements. The top and sides of the lockers[293] were upholstered, and they were supplied with pillows so that they could be used as lounges or beds.
Under the hatchway, which opened into the cabin from the deck, was suspended a long, wide board, painted and varnished like the rest of the furniture. This was the table. When in use it was lowered into the cabin and kept in position—not by legs, like ordinary tables, but by polished iron rods which came down from the beams overhead. If that table could have found a tongue it would have told some interesting stories of the glorious times the Club and their friends had had while seated around it—of the quantities of roast duck, venison, oysters, catfish, quails, and other good cheer that had been placed upon it by old Sam, the cook, to be swept off by the hungry young yachtsmen; of the jokes that had been passed, and the funny things that had been said after the cloth was removed, and oranges, raisins, almonds and lemonade brought on; and of the speeches that had been made, the stories that had been told, and the hearty applauding blows that had been showered upon it by the Club as Featherweight finished singing one of his favorite songs. And not only the table, but everything else in the cabin was associated in the[294] minds of the Club with some exciting cruise or some pleasing event. It was no wonder that they liked to be there, for a more cosy and comfortable apartment could not have been found anywhere.
In the hold of the schooner were stowed away the water-butts, the seven tons of stone-coal that served her for ballast, extra sails and ropes, two large anchors with cables complete, a chest of carpenter’s, calker’s, and sail-maker’s tools, an abundance of fuel for the galley—in fact everything that the little vessel could possibly need during a voyage could be found here. Walter, besides superintending the building of the yacht, had provided the outfit himself, and consequently there was nothing wanting. Everything was kept in the best order, too. There was never a rope out of place, or a drop of paint or grease on the deck. She was a model yacht. We have been thus particular in describing her because she is an old favorite of ours; and, as we shall have a good deal to say about her and her exploits, we want everybody to know how she looks.
“All hands stand by to get ship under way,” shouted Perk, repeating the order Walter had given him.
[295]
The boys sprang at the word, and in five minutes more the mainsail, foresail and jib had been run up, and the yacht began to careen as she felt the wind, as if impatient to be off. Eugene went to the wheel, Wilson and Bab cast off the lines, the Banner raised herself almost on her side, and taking a bone in her teeth, went tearing down the bayou at a terrific rate of speed.
“Now, I’ll tell you what’s a fact,” said Perk, pulling his collar up around his ears and moving back into the standing-room to get out of the reach of the spray which was dashing wildly about the bows, “this feels natural. It is perfectly delightful. Wouldn’t she stand a little more, Commodore—just an inch or two? We want to make good time, you know.”
Walter looked up at the masts and thought she would bear the topsails; but just as he was on the point of telling Perk that he might have them given to the wind, he recollected that Eugene was at the helm. Knowing that he was a very careless, and even reckless fellow, and that he would almost as soon carry away a mast or capsize the boat as to luff an inch, the young captain said he thought[296] he would make the run with the canvas he had already hoisted.
“Well, then,” said Perk, “as the work is over until we reach the village, Eugene and I can sail her. You and Bab and Wilson consider it your watch below and turn in. I’ll call you when we come in sight of the wharf.”
Walter thought this good advice. He went down into the cabin and closing the door, thus shutting out all sounds of the wind and the waves, arranged a bed on the lee locker, and stretched himself upon it. Bab and Wilson came down one after the other, and before the yacht had left her anchorage a mile behind, all three were sleeping soundly. When Eugene came in to call them about one o’clock the lights on the wharf were in plain sight.
There was only one berth at the wharf in which a vessel could lie with safety during a high wind, and it was already occupied by a little schooner which was evidently getting ready to begin her voyage that night; for her crew were busily engaged in loading her. Walter would have been astonished had he know what consternation the sudden appearance of his yacht produced in the minds of at least three of that schooner’s company.[297] A foremast hand, who was assisting another in rolling a hogshead of hams up the gang-plank, ceased his work the instant his eyes rested on her, and leaving his companion to himself, dived down into the hatchway. Two men who were walking up and down the quarter-deck, arm in arm—one dressed in broadcloth and the other in rough sailor garments—stopped and gazed at her with mouth and eyes wide open. They conversed a moment in low, hurried tones, and then the man in broadcloth beat a hasty retreat down the companion ladder; while the other pulled his tarpaulin down over his forehead, turned up the collar of his pea-jacket, and having by these movements concealed every portion of his face except his eyes and whiskers, thrust his hands into his pockets and sauntered up to the rail.
“Schooner ahoy!” shouted Walter, as the Banner dashed up.
“Hallo!” was the reply.
“I’d like to tie up alongside of you for about five minutes.”
“Can’t do it,” answered the master of the schooner, for such he was. “We’re going to sail immediately.”
[298]
“All right. When you are ready to start, I’ll get out of your way. Will you stand by to catch a line?”
The captain of the schooner, although he heartily wished the yacht a hundred miles away, could not well refuse to listen to so fair a proposition as this. He caught the line as it came whirling over his head, and made it fast on board his vessel; and in ten minutes more the Banner was lying alongside the schooner, and Walter and Wilson were walking up the street as fast as their legs could carry them—one to call on Mr. Craven, and the other to find his father and Mr. Chase. The rest of the Club remained on board to watch the yacht. Perk and Bab paced the deck, talking over the exciting events of the day, and wondering what else was in store for them, while Eugene clambered over the rail and went on board the schooner. He took his stand at the forehatch and looked down into the hold, where some of the crew were at work stowing away an assorted cargo, and the first thought that passed through his mind was, that for a vessel of her size she had very little capacity. What would he have thought if he had known that there was another hold under the one he was looking into;[299] that it was filled with a variety of articles that had that very afternoon been brought from New Orleans in wagons, and which were to be smuggled into Cuba; and that in a dark corner among those articles Fred Craven lay, still bound as securely as he was when we last saw him? If Chase had been there he could have told some strange stories about that schooner; but as none of the crew of the yacht had ever seen her before (the reason was that she always left and entered port during the night), they took her for just what she appeared to be—a trader.
While Eugene stood looking down into the hold, the master of the schooner, a short, thick-set, ugly-looking man, with red whiskers and mustache, came swaggering up and tried to enter into conversation with him. He wanted to know whose yacht that was, what she had come there for, where she was going, why Walter and Wilson had been in such haste to get ashore, and asked a good many other questions that Eugene did not care to answer. He could see no reason why he should tell the man the Club’s business; and the latter............