"I don't much like the idea of sneaking out as if I were a thief," said Roy, involuntarily following the guide's motions and speaking in a low and guarded tone. "What's the object of so much secrecy? I know I have no right here, but since I was brought against my will, I have a perfect right to go out open and above board."
"Easy, easy," whispered Willis, raising his hand with a warning gesture. "We don't want to disturb Mrs. Moffatt for nothing. The timid old soul lives in constant fear of a visit from New London burglars, and if we should wake her up she would be scared to death."
Roy did not think to ask himself whether or not this was a good reason for Willis's stealthy movements, for his mind was too busy
[Pg 146]
 with other matters. He wanted to see the boat that was to take him across to the city, and fervently hoped it might prove to be a large and seaworthy one; for when he got out of the house he saw that the sky was overcast, that the wind was rising, and that the surface of the bay looked dark and threatening.
"Isn't it going to be an ugly night?" said he, as he accompanied his guide down one of the broad carriageways that had been laid out along the beach. "What a lovely road for a wheel," he went on, without giving Willis a chance to reply. "It is as hard as rock and level as a floor."
"Yes; here's where Rowe learned to ride," said Willis. "We have twenty miles of just such roads on the island."
"Then that was what you meant when you said Rowe's clothes were just like mine; he is a wheelman," said Roy. "He has a nice place for his regular runs, and I should much like to see it by daylight; but I should think he would get lonely and long to take a spin on the mainland now and then. I tell you it's going to blow," he added, as a strong gust of wind
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 shook the branches of the trees that shaded the road on both sides. "Are you going to the city with me?"
"I can't leave the island until I put the hands to work in the morning," replied Willis. "But I will give you a good crew and a stanch boat. You'll go over all right. You are not afraid of a capful of wind, I hope?"
"No, but I am afraid of a gale. I am used to smooth water, and don't at all relish the idea of being out in a storm."
"Oh, it isn't going to storm. But if you get frightened after you are out a little way, tell the men to bring you back or to put you aboard some coaster, bound in. Here we are."
As Willis said this he turned off the road and led the way down the bank and to the beach, where Roy found a boat and two men who were evidently waiting for him.
"Here he is," said Willis, laying his hand on the boy's shoulder. "He doesn't much like the idea of going out in this breeze—"
"The breeze don't blow to hurt anything," growled one of the men, pulling his sou'wester
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 lower over his forehead and turning the collar of his pea-jacket up around his ears.
"That's what I told him; but of course his wishes must be respected, and I want you to mind this: If it gets too heavy for you, you will either bring him back, or put him aboard some larger craft, bound in. If you will step this way a minute, Tony, I will give you an order for some goods I want brought from the city."
The superintendent drew off on one side out of earshot, and one of the muffled figures followed him.
"Me and Bob hain't yet made up our minds whether we'll have a hand in this business or not," said he, in a hoarse whisper. "Looks most too risky, don't it?"
"There isn't a particle of risk about it," replied Willis. "Do you think I would put the colonel's nephew in danger for the sake of a paltry five hundred dollars? I tell you, there's nothing to fear. The colonel told me to attend to this business for him, and when he finds I've not done it, what shall I say to him? Do you want me to tell him that you
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 wouldn't obey orders because you were afraid?"
"Well, I am afraid, and that's flat," said Tony, doggedly. "I have heared of Cap'n Jack, and I'm scared to trust myself on board his ship."
"You needn't be, for the colonel will protect you. Give him this the minute you get aboard, and it will see you through," said Willis, slipping an envelope into the pocket of Tony's pea-jacket. "Now, hurry up, for the captain is in a great taking to go to sea, and he's liable to run out at any moment. He's been waiting a long time—"
"He's been waiting long enough to get good and mad, and I wouldn't be one of the crew he takes to sea with him this trip for all the money there is in the broad world," said Tony, with a shudder. "He'll haze 'em till they'll be glad to jump overboard."
"You and I have nothing whatever to do with the way Captain Jack Rowan sees fit to treat his crew," said Willis impatiently. "All you and Bob have to do is to set this boy on board the White Squall, so that he can get
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 that money. But mind you: You are not to tell him where you are going. He's as much afraid of the White Squall as you seem to be, and wouldn't put a foot over her rail if he knew it. He thinks he going into the city, and that you are to take him straight to a hack-stand. Say yes or no, and be quick about it. The wind is rising every moment, and if you don't start pretty soon you'll not be able to get away from the beach."
"All right, Mr. Willis. We'll tend to the business for you."
Tony spoke these words in a tone loud enough to reach the ears of Roy Sheldon, who remained near the boat in company with the man Bob. The former supposed the words had something to do with the "order" of which Willis had spoken, but Bob knew they were intended to convey to him the information that the job on hand was to be carried out just as it had been planned.
"Jump aboard, lad," said he, motioning Roy to get into the boat. "Holler good-by to the old man, and that will do just as well as shaking hands with him."
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But Roy had no opportunity to "holler" his farewell, even if he had thought of it; for by the time the boat was fairly afloat, the crew in their places, and the oars shipped, the thick darkness of the on-coming storm closed down over them, and the beach was shut out from view.
"I reckon that's the last of this scrape for one while," soliloquized Willis, as he pulled his hat down over his ears and retraced his steps to the house. "If there ever were two born fools in the world, they are me and Babcock. How we managed to make such a blunder, I can't for the life of me imagine. Now Rowe Shelly can cut his lucky and go and find his father and mother, for all me. I'll never try to catch him, for my cue now is to make folks believe I've had him here, and that he gave me the slip and cleared out. Is that you, Benny? You don't know how you startled me."
Just then some one stepped out into the road and confronted the superintendent. It was his son; and all I know about him is that he was called "a chip of the old block," so he must have been a rascal. The first words the
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 young man spoke proved that this was not the first interview they had had that night.
"Well, how is it?" said he.
"They've gone," replied his father shortly.
"Then we've seen them for the last time; for when they get back we'll not be here. Captain Jack will be sure to carry them off with him."
"Ain't you kinder sorry to treat Tony and Bob that way? They've been good, faithful fellows, and I hate to think of their being kicked and knocked about by those mates."
"They're used to it," replied Benny indifferently. "Besides, what else could you do? You couldn't keep the boy, for he was not Rowe Shelly; and if you had let him go, he would have had the law on you for abduction. You couldn't have hired Bob and Tony to take him aboard the White Squall and leave him there, because they wouldn't have done it, and they would have blabbed about it into the bargain. By doing as I said, you've got rid of the whole of them at once, and they'll never come back to trouble you."
The superintendent groaned.
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"I know what you're afraid of," continued Benny. "You're scared that the ship will go to the bottom with all hands. Well, then, what made you be such a dunce as to capture the wrong boy? You got into the scrape and you had to get out, didn't you? Now I'm going to bed."
"There's going to be the biggest kind of a commotion on this island, and before long, too," said Willis dolefully. "I have warning of it in every breath of wind that comes off the bay."
I do not suppose that Willis closed his eyes in slumber that night. It would have been a wonder if he had slept, with so guilty a conscience for company. He arose at an early hour, saw the yacht when she put off through the white-caps shortly after daylight to bring the morning's mail from the city, and waited with what patience he could for her return. She did not bring any of Roy Sheldon's friends with her, but she landed a larger supply of mail than usual, and in it the superintendent found a letter addressed to himself in Rowe Shelly's well-known handwriting.
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 Its contents were enough to drive one frantic, Willis told himself. He had hoped that the runaway would be satisfied now that he had got off the island, and that he would quietly disappear and never "turn up" again; but here he was threatening the superintendent with the terrors of the law if he did not at once release the boy who had been mistaken for himself.
"Somebody put him up to that," groaned Willis, "for Rowe never would have thought of such a thing himself. I wish I could send that boy back where he belongs, and if I had ever dreamed of this, I would have done it. I made a mistake in taking Benny's advice and sending Roy Sheldon away to be "shanghaied," for instead of getting out of trouble, I have only pulled myself deeper into it. What is it, Jobson?" he added, addressing himself to one of the hired men who just then appeared at the door.
"I came in to see if you could tell me anything about Tony and Bob Bradley," was the reply; and the words added big weight to the superintendent's heavy load of anxiety.
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 "They are not on the island, and a boat that looks wonderfully like theirs is being driven ashore from the Sound. I didn't know but you might have sent them to the city for something."
"In all that storm?" exclaimed Willis. "Say, Jobson," he continued, changing the subject, for it was one he did not like to dwell upon, "was the storm so very hard? I mean, was it severe enough to keep vessels from going and coming?"
"Oh, no. I see the White Squall has left her anchorage. She must have gone out in the height of it, for she was there when I went to bed."
"If those two men went away last night they did it without any orders from me," said Willis. "It's nothing to worry over. No doubt they will come around presently. So the White Squall has gone at last!" he added, as Jobson left to continue his search for Bob and Tony. "She has been anchored out there in the bay for more than two weeks, waiting for a chance to drug and steal a crew, and if she has sailed, that interloper must
[Pg 156]
 have sailed with her. In that case it will be a long time before he shows up again, for he'll not touch land this side of Cape Town. This is too damaging a thing to lay around loose, so I will chuck it in there," he added, tossing Rowe's letter into the grate. "Those people from the city will be along in the course of an hour or so, and I know what I am going to say to them. Now, why doesn't Mrs. Moffatt come in and tell me that Rowe has run away again?"
Willis picked up one of the papers which the yacht had brought from the city, and the minute it was opened his eye fell upon this startling paragraph:
MUTINY IN THE HARBOR.
An Infamous Vessel and a Rebellious Crew.—A Sailor Prefers Death to a Voyage in the White Squall.
"Pilot-boat No. 29, Caleb Rogers master, which was driven into the harbor by the gale, reports a suicide committed under peculiarly distressing circumstance. When off the light-ship bound in, Captain Rogers passed the White Squall going out. As the readers of
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 The Tribune have often been told, this interesting ship had lain at anchor in the outer bay for nearly three weeks, waiting for a crew; but no man who sails out of this port, so long as he kept a level head on his shoulders, could be induced to affix his name to her shipping articles. Now and then a few foreigners, under promise of big pay, plenty to eat and kind treatment, have been coaxed aboard of her, but they always deserted when they found out where they were and who the captain was. With the aid of shipping agents, or in some other underhanded way, the captain at last succeeded in mustering crew enough to handle his vessel, and this morning she went out in the teeth of the storm that forced Captain Rogers to seek shelter. When off the light-ship a man was seen to spring upon her rail and deliberately throw himself into the water. At the same time a white fishing-boat was cut loose from her starboard quarter, and the wind blew it out of sight. This, Captain Rogers thinks, made it evident that the crew had laid their plans to desert in a body, and that the plot was discovered and thwarted by the officers. Captain Rogers at once rounded to, lowered a boat, and made diligent search for the poor fellow who preferred to die rather than trust himself to the tender mercies of
[Pg 158]
 Captain Jack Rowan and his brutal mates, but he must have sunk immediately, for he was not seen after striking the water. At certain stages of the tide, heavy vessels like the White Squall are obliged to pass quite close to the ledge that bounds the northern side of the channel, and in ordinary weather a fair swimmer might succeed in reaching the light-ship; but under the circumstances Captain Rogers thinks there was no chance for this unfortunate man's life. The White Squall kept on her way without making the least effort to pick him up. Now what is the use of having any law, we should like to know, if it is not intended to reach just such ruffians as this Captain Jack and his officers? If that sailor made way with himself in his desperate efforts to escape their brutality, they ought to be punished with the utmost severity."
Willis read this paragraph with eyes that seemed ready to start from their sockets, and long before he finished the paper was shaking so violently in his hands that the noise it made could have been heard across the room. He understood some portions of the paragraph as well as though he had stood upon the White Squall's deck and witnessed the thrilling
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 scenes that must have taken place there before that unhappy sailor gave himself up to the mercy of the waves. But was it a sailor who jumped overboard? Might it not have been some one else? How did he know but it was—The exclamations that fell from the superintendent's lips when this thought came into his mind can not be expressed in words, for I do not know how to spell them.
"Benny's plan worked too well," said Willis, throwing down the paper and getting upon his feet. "Why didn't he stay here and see me through, instead of going off in the yacht the first thing in the morning? They were all shanghaied, as we meant they should be; but was there any one in the white fishing-boat that was cast adrift from the ship and which Jobson says is now coming toward the island? And who was the fellow who jumped overboard? That is a question that will haunt me till I go ashore and learn the truth. I do not think Tony or Bob would do a thing like that, for they are used to hard treatment at the hands of shipmasters; and if it was Roy—
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Gracious Peter! I'm in a worse scrape than I thought."
Willis did not have time to follow out this train of thought, for just then Mrs. Moffat came into the room. The man knew well enough what she was going to say, for the look of anxiety her face wore could be easily interpreted.
"Good morning, Mr. Willis," said she, with a sorry attempt to appear as cheerful as usual. "Have you seen Rowe since we left him in his room last night?"
"I have not," replied the superintendent, resuming his seat and once more unfolding the paper. "What makes you ask?"
"Why, I went up just now to tell him breakfast would soon be ready, and he wasn't there," answered the housekeeper. "More than that, his bed was not slept in."
"That doesn't signify. He took to the lounge probably, and went out before any of us were up for his usual morning's spin on his wheel."
"But he took his wheel when he went to the
[Pg 161]
 city, and you did not bring it back," Mrs. Moffatt reminded him.
"That's so. I had forgotten about it. I'll send for it as soon as he is ready to tell me where he left it. Then he took his pony."
"The pony hasn't been out this morning. The hostler told me so. Mr. Willis," said the housekeeper, becoming earnest, "I'm afraid he's gone."
"Again?" exclaimed Willis, as if the thought had just been suggested to him. "Why, we only brought him back last night."
"I can't help that. I don't believe he is on the island."
The man knew he must make a stir about it, for any lukewarmness or show of indifference on his part would be reported when the colonel returned, and Willis was not yet ready to give up his lucrative position. He wanted to make a little more money out of it first. So he hurried from the house, making a great show of nervousness and apprehension; and every man he met he sent off to make inquiries about Rowe Shelly.
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"If he has run away again I shall surely think he is out of his head," he took occasion to remark, in Mrs. Moffatt's hearing. "He couldn't go back to the city without crossing the bay, and no boy, or man either, would think of trying that in such a gale as we had last night and this morning, unless he was clean gone crazy. Have you brought any news, Jobson?"
"The little I've got is bad enough," replied the hired man. "The boat I was telling you about a while ago has come ashore down there in the cove—"
"And there's nobody in it," exclaimed the superintendent. "Mrs. Moffatt, I fear the worst. Rowe tried to reach the city in that boat, and the storm capsized him. I am afraid we shall never see him again."
"If Rowe went off in that boat Bob and Tony must have gone with him," said Jobson, "for they ain't either one of them to be found on the island, and their folks don't know anything about them."
"Do you think it possible that Rowe could have bribed them to take him across to the
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 mainland?" said Willis anxiously. "If he did, then they have all gone to their death."
"How could he have bribed anybody when he had no money?" cried Mrs. Moffatt.
"Madam," replied the superintendent impressively, "he had money, and plenty of it, too."
"When and how did he get it?"
"You tell. All I know is, that every dollar of the funds the colonel left in my hands to pay expenses during his absence has disappeared."
"I don't care if it is," snapped the housekeeper. "Rowe Shelly never took it. He isn't capable of such a thing."
To an inexperienced rascal it would have seemed as though the situation was about as bad as it could be, and even Willis trembled when he tried to look far enough into the future to see what the outcome was likely to be. But, as it happened, he was saved from the consequences of his folly and wickedness (for the present, at least), by one of those unexpected freaks of fortune that sometimes happen in this world. He did not want to talk about the stolen money, especially to a person
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 as sharp of tongue and as firmly convinced of Rowe's innocence as Mrs. Moffatt was, so he sent word to the captain of the yacht to get ready for an immediate return to the city, and hastened to his room. His first care was to make some important changes in his wearing apparel, and his second to hide the morning papers and take possession of a well-filled pocket-book he found in his bureau.
"I don't know as there is any sense in putting those papers out of Mrs. Moffatt's sight," said he to himself, "but somehow I don't want her to see the account of that suicide until I am away from here and out of reach of her tongue. I thought, by the way she looked at me, that she rather suspected me of stealing that money; and didn't Rowe say in his letter that if there was any money gone, he'd sooner think I took it than accuse anybody else? Well, here it is, and more besides, and into my pocket it goes. It sort of runs in my head that I am going to see and hear something before I get back; and if it should be anything unpleasant, I shall be prepared to take the train."
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Having arranged things so that he could run or stay, as circumstances seemed to require, Willis hurried to the jetty and ordered the captain of the yacht to shove off. Of course the strange events that had taken place on board the White Squall were in the mouths of all the yacht's crew, for they had heard all about them during their first trip to the city, and besides they had read the Tribune. Wherever Willis went, into the pilot-house, the engine-room, or on the forecastle, he was sure to hear them discussed; and after repeatedly declaring that he didn't know anything about them, and that he was going to New London to see if he could learn any additional particulars, Willis finally retreated to the cabin and tried to interest himself in a paper.
What it was that induced him to jump ashore the minute the yacht landed, and draw a bee-line for the Lafayette House, the superintendent could not have told. But he went, as if impelled by some impulse he could not resist, and the first person he saw when he entered the reading-room was the very one he did not want to see. It was Roy Sheldon.
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 He wore a bandage over one eye, the other was slightly discolored, and Willis noticed that when he moved his right arm he did it with some difficulty. It had evidently been injured in some way. He had on different clothes, a dress suit, in fact, consisting of blue broadcloth knickerbockers and shirt, black silk stockings, low shoes, and new white helmet. If Willis had never seen him before, he would have rushed up and called him Rowe Shelly; but he knew it wasn't Rowe. He took just one glance at him, then wheeled about to retire without attracting his notice, when Roy, who was impatiently waiting for Joe and Arthur, looked up and saw him. In an instant he was on his feet and coming toward the man, who could not retreat. Roy had but to say a word to bring in the policeman who was standing in front of the hotel. But, to the superintendent's great surprise, he did not say it. On the contrary he held out his hand, and even tried to smile. What in the world did it mean? Willis asked himself.
"Good-morning," said Roy, in cheery tones. "I made it, as you see, but I had a tight
[Pg 167]
 squeak for it. Say! I am sorry for Tony and his friend. The waves and wind got so heavy they couldn't make headway against them; they dared not round to and go back to the island for fear of a capsize, so they hailed a ship that was getting under way. We supposed that she was going to pull farther into the harbor for shelter; in fact, one of her officers told us so. But, by gracious! the minute we got aboard what did that scoundrel of a captain do but—Sit down, and I will tell you all about it. It's a little ahead of anything I ever heard of. Seen this morning's Tribune?"
"No; that is to say, yes. I've seen the Tribune, but no other paper," replied Willis, who was so astounded that he hardly knew what he said.
"Then, of course, you know about the poor sailor-man who preferred death to a voyage in the White Squall," continued Roy. "Well, there wasn't any suicide. The fellow who deliberately threw himself into the water was I; and I tell you—Why don't you sit down? I'm as lame as though I had been pounded with a club, although I know I was struck only twice,
[Pg 168]
 once in each eye, and almost had my arm jerked out of place. I can't stand long at a time."
Willis mechanically seated himself and listened like one in a dream, while Roy related the following story of his adventure.