Part 28 (1/2)

”I have just cleaned up, d.i.c.k,” replied Tom, who never hesitated at a white lie, and not often at a black one. ”Paul is on deck, and in just the trim to do a job of that kind.”

”No matter, then; I will call him,” replied d.i.c.k; and the two boys presently returned to the deck.

”Just what we wanted,” said Frank.

”Don't say a word, and d.i.c.k will call him down in a minute.”

But the steward seemed to forget that he intended to make a change in the position of the stove, for he did not call Paul, as the conspirators were anxiously waiting for him to do. The tide had turned, and there was no obstacle in their way except the presence on deck of him to whom they had not dared to breathe a word of moral treason.

”Paul,” said Tom, at last, when his patience was completely exhausted, ”d.i.c.k wants to see you down below.”

In order to make the request seem like one just made, he had lain down upon the fore hatch, which opened into the apartment where the steward was at work, thus seeming to be in communication with him.

”What does he want?” asked Paul, unconscious of the trick which was about to be played off upon him, and rather pleased than otherwise at the prospect of some employment to relieve the monotony of his situation.

”He wants you to help him move the stove.”

”Never mind it now, Paul,” interposed the steward from below; ”any time before I make the fire to get supper will do.”

”I will go now; I have nothing else to do,” replied Paul, as he descended the companion ladder.

”Now is our time!” exclaimed Tom. ”You look out for the fore hatch, and I will take care of the companion way.”

”Ay, ay, Tom, and be quick about it.”

At a signal from the chief conspirator, the slide was drawn and the fore hatchway covered up, thus making Paul and the steward prisoners below.

”What does that mean?” said Paul.

”I don't know; some mischief, I suppose,” replied d.i.c.k. ”They are playing off a trick upon us.”

”We are prisoners, anyhow,” continued Paul, glancing at the closed hatchway.

”All the same to me; don't mind them at all, and they will soon get sick of the fun.”

”But what are they about?” added Paul, as he heard the creak of the windla.s.s on deck. ”I'm afraid they are up to some serious mischief.”

”Can't help it; 'tain't my fault, and I never meddle with what don't concern me. All I got to do is to cook the victuals, and take care of the cabin.”

d.i.c.k was utterly indifferent in regard to the conspirators, and went on sc.r.a.ping his potatoes, as though nothing unusual was in progress. As long as they had not carried off his cooking stove, or separated him from the ice chest, he was perfectly contented, and undoubtedly would call all hands to supper at the proper time, precisely as though everything was proceeding in a proper and regular manner on board the Flyaway. d.i.c.k prided himself upon minding his own business; and if the yacht had been seized by a gang of West India buccaneers, his culinary operations would have proceeded with their accustomed order and promptness.

It was not so with Paul; for the creaking of the windla.s.s, and the activity that seemed to be manifested on deck, had already suggested to him a suspicion in regard to the purpose of the crew. He was not long left in doubt, for the sounds from above soon indicated that a portion of the conspirators were hoisting the mainsail. But he found it very difficult to accept the conclusion that these indications forced upon him. The boys on deck were certainly getting the yacht in readiness to sail; yet it seemed scarcely credible to him that they intended to run away with her. A scheme so bold and wicked pa.s.sed his comprehension, and he was not prepared to believe that even Tom and Frank had the hardihood to carry it out. But the evidences were fast increasing; he heard the voice of Tom Nettle, as he stood at the helm, issuing his orders with as much a.s.surance as though he had been regularly placed in authority.

Presently he heard the anchor strike against the hawse-hole, and the jib rattling up the stay. He could no longer cherish a hope that their purpose was less criminal than he had feared. He almost cried with sorrow and vexation when he considered that his brother John was one of the mutineers.

”They are running away with the yacht,” said he to his fellow-prisoner.

”That's none of my business,” replied d.i.c.k, with his accustomed stoicism. ”All I got to say is, that supper will be ready at six o'clock; because why--that's the time Captain Gordon told me to have supper.”

”But do you mean to let them run away with the yacht?”