Part 34 (1/2)

Then, all in a flash, a luminous idea came to him. It looked almost crazy, yet it was the only thing that it seemed possible to do. Bending down the signal rocket box, Jed grasped a piece of slow-match. This he lighted, his fingers trembling. Then, as swiftly, he unfastened the lower hook of that rocket trough. He was able, thus, to swivel the trough over the port rail.

”Now, we'll see if the scheme's any good,” quivered Jed, s.n.a.t.c.hing up a rocket and resting it in the trough. Groping for his slow-match, he sighted along the stick of the rocket. Shaking, he applied the glowing end of the slow-match to the rocket's fuse. There was a sputtering, then a hiss.

Out over the waters shot the rocket, leaving behind a fiery trail. It flew about three feet above the top of the tug's pilot house, dropping into the ocean beyond.

”It was my trembling hand that spoiled my aim,” gasped Jed. ”Now, another, and steady, old boy!”

Jed fitted the second rocket, applying the match. Whizz! Smas.h.!.+

”Ho, ho!” roared Jed, for that rocket, going straight and true, had smashed a light of gla.s.s in the tug's pilot house. Bang! Being an explosive rocket, the thing blew into a thousand fragments inside that pilot house. A yell came from the man at the helm.

But Jed did not waste time looking or listening. He fitted another rocket, touching it off after swift aim. That one whizzed between the heads of two of the three men out forward, and Jed heard their rough words of alarm and anger.

”Wow!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the boy. ”I'm a whole Navy! What?”

Another rocket he aimed at the three men. They scrambled in all directions. Still another rocket Prentiss drove through the pilot house windows. Jed heard the engine room bell jingle for the stop.

”I'll give you plenty of it,” gritted Prentiss, thrusting a hand into the box and bringing forth this time a stout Roman candle-a fourteen-ball affair.

Lighting and waving it, Jed was ready, at the pop of the first ball, to aim the affair at the tug boat. The missiles fell all about. Though Jed did not know it, one of the hot, glowing b.a.l.l.s struck Captain Jonas French squarely on the end of his bulb-like nose. He let out an Indian-like yell, dropping the wheel. Another man crawled in on his knees to take the skipper's place, but he kept down below the wood-work of the front of the pilot house, steering by the lower spokes of the wheel.

The tug's bell sounded for reversed speed, then for the go-ahead, as the craft swung her bow around. They were retreating, but Jed, chuckling aloud in his glee, sent three more rockets after the tug, just to show her people that he had plenty of ammunition left. Then, when the tug was out of range, Jed stood up, gazing after her dim lines.

”Say, maybe there are a few Deweys left in America,” he laughed aloud.

”I wonder what's the answer?”

CHAPTER XXIII-SPYING ON THE FILIBUSTERS

Meanwhile, at the Sanderson farm, business was proceeding at a rate that ent.i.tled the word to be spelled with a very large capital ”B.”

Mr. Lawrence and his comrades, under Captain Tom's pilotage, were hidden where, despite the darkness, they could get a very fair idea of what was going on at the pier. Joe had led Warren and the other local officers up where they could know what was going on behind the farmhouse. Sanderson, Alvarez and all hands except Captain Jonas French, were working like so many industrious ants. Two of the men were moving cases out of the new shed onto the pier. The rest were bringing cases down to the pier from the farm outbuilding. All the cases were being piled at the end of the pier.

”That means they're going to s.h.i.+p everything to-night,” whispered Mr.

Lawrence.

”When are you going to jump on them?” Halstead asked.

”Not until they get everything on their vessel, and get out on the water. If we showed ourselves now, and tried to arrest the crowd, what could we prove? Sanderson has a perfect right to stack any kinds of merchandise on his pier. But when we overhaul a craft out on the water, loaded down with filibuster's supplies, and the captain of that craft can show no regular papers for such a cargo, then we have the crowd where we want them.”

It was a dull time waiting, but Inspector Lawrence was right, as a man of his experience was quite likely to be. The time slipped on, with no open move on the part of the law's people.

”I thought I saw a rocket up north, then,” whispered Tom, at last.

”Watch and see whether there's another,” replied Lawrence, also in a whisper. But the rocket Tom had seen was the last that Jed had derisively shot after the retreating tug. It wasn't long, however, before the young motor boat skipper and the United States officers heard the sound of the tug approaching. They lay low, but watched, quietly until the tug had docked at the end of Sanderson's pier.

”We'll still have to use patience,” smiled Mr. Lawrence, turning to Tom.