Books: The Voyage of the Hoppergrass
E >>
Edmund Lester Pearson >> The Voyage of the Hoppergrass
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 | 10 |
11
I thought I might do so, myself, so I took off my wet clothes, and
spread them out in the sun. Then I went below, found my bag,
brought it up on deck, and began to dress again. He went on, in
the meantime, with his story.
"Well, F-Father didn't c-c-confess his f-foul p-plot till the very
d-day we were going to Big D-Duck. That was--it was--oh, when was
it, S-S-Spike?"
"It was--er--I'm all mixed up about time," said Spike.
"S-Same here," replied the other.
"It was day before yesterday,--Tuesday," Spike finally remarked.
"T-Tuesday. That's right. W-Well, F-Father g-gave us this awful
j-j-jolt at l-l-luncheon. Th-That was F-Father's idea of m-making m-
m-merry. It didn't t-t-tickle us m-most to d-death, s-s-somehow.
We t-talked it over that afternoon, out in the b-barn, and we
decided to k-k-k-k-quit. We'd t-take the b-boat ourselves, and--"
"We were all going to sail over to Big Duck in a cat-boat, you
know. Father hires a boat every summer."
"S-Say, S-S-Spike, g-go ahead, if you want to."
"I don't. You go on,--you're getting there all right. You'll come
to the point in an hour or two."
"W-Well, I aint c-c-crazy about it, you know... W-Well, we were
all going, the whole f-family, in a new cat-boat that belongs to
C-Captain B-Bill P-P-P-Prendergast. We hadn't seen her, 'cause
he's had her over at P-Porpoise Island all s-summer, taking out
s-sailing p-parties. F-Father said she was d-down at W-W-Woodwell's
Wharf--C-C-Captain B-Bill had brought her over in the morning, and
then he'd gone back to P-Porpoise Island. He was engaged to c-c-
cook c-c-clam chowders at the American House. W-We were going to
sail her over to Big D-Duck--S-S-Spike and I--w-w-while F-Father
m-messed around and th-thought he was running the whole s-s-show.
That was his p-p-p-plan. B-B-But we decided to nip his g-g-game in
the b-b-b-bud, b-b-b-b-(oh! hang it!) b-b-by sneakin' down ahead
of the f-family, and just sailing away on that b-boat, and
embarking on a c-c-career of pup-pup-pup-piracy!"
"You see," said Spike, "we got so sick of all this Kidd talk that
we thought we might as well get something out of it."
"B-Besides," said the other, "w-we were d-d-d-desperate. W-We g-
got this f-f-flag--s-skull and cross-bones, you know that we had
on our b-boat, the 'J-J-Jolly Roger,' last summer, and we l-l-lit
out for W-W-Woodwell's Wharf to f-f-f-f-fool F-Father. It was p-
pretty f-f-foggy when we got to the wharf, and we s-saw it
wouldn't be s-safe for F-Father and M-M-Mother and B-Betty and
Alice and the b-b-baby to go sailing, anyhow. But there wasn't any
b-boat at W-Woodwells,--she was over at M-M-Mulliken's Wharf. So
w-we s-skun around, and g-got aboard, hoisted the s-sail, and
s-started down the river. W-We were nearly out into the b-bay before
it struck us that we weren't on the right b-boat."
"I went down into the cabin," said Spike, "and it was all full of
bags and things. Our stuff had gone over--some of it--to Big Duck
that morning, by the steamer. And the rest, Father was going to
bring down to the wharf in the carriage. But these bags were
marked a lot of strange names,--Toppan, and Edwards, and so on."
"T-Tell him about the n-name, S-S-Spike."
"Oh, yes. There was a strip of canvas hitched over the stern,--it
had something painted on it in black letters. I hung over the
stern, but I couldn't make it out,--because it looked upside
down, of course. So I got out in the tender and read it, and it
was 'Hannah J. Pettingell.' Then there was another name under
that,--in gilt letters, in the regular way. That seemed kind of
funny, and when I got back on the boat we unhitched the cords and
pulled up the canvas sign. I tried again, hanging over the stern,
and spelled out the gilt letters, one at a time. The name was
'Hoppergrass.' We thought there must be some funny business,--a
boat with two names, like that."
"That's why the Captain had the crier call it the Hannah
Pettingell," I reflected.
"Well, we knew we were on the wrong boat," said Spike, "because
Captain Bill Prendergast's is the 'Clara'."
"B-B-But what could we d-d-d-do? We didn't d-dare to go b-back. If
F-Father didn't l-l-l-lambaste the l-l-l-life out of us, the o-owner
of this b-boat would. We had s-started out to be pup-pup-
pirates, and we had m-made a b-b-bully g-g-good beginning, b-by
g-g-gum!"
"Say, you don't own this boat, do you?" asked Spike, suddenly.
"No."
"Oh, th-that's too bad! J-Just think. If you d-did, n-now we've
s-s-s-saved you from S-Snider you'd be in a f-friendly f-f-frame of
mind, and we could t-turn the b-boat over to you, everything
f-forgiven, and no k-k-k-questions asked."
"It belongs to Captain Bannister, and I wish you'd tell me where
he is," I answered.
"D-D-Do you think you can s-s-square us with B-B-B-Baluster?"
"Ye-es,--I guess so."
I did not want to be dismal about it, but my own opinion was that
the Captain would be furious. His boat had been missing now for
two days.
"W-Well, if he thinks we've been having a p-p-p-picnic, that's
where he's off. We s-sailed over to S-S-Squid C-Cove that night,
and went ashore in the t-t-tender. It was d-d-dark as a p-p-
pocket, and this ch-ch-chump here, S-Spike, didn't make the
t-tender f-fast to the s-slip, and she f-floated off. The f-fog was
so thick that we couldn't s-see the yacht, and we didn't dare
t-try to s-swim for her, b-because if we got wet and c-couldn't
f-find her, and had to l-l-loaf around all night on s-shore, s-s-
soppin' wet, why, that would be r-r-rotten, you see. S-Spike s-s-
stripped and s-swum out into the f-fog, but he couldn't f-f-find
her, and we thought the b-b-blooming yacht had g-gone adrift,
t-too! And so we s-stayed on sh-shore, and slept in a p-p-potato-
patch, and all we had to eat was some r-r-radishes. I ate f-f-
fiiteen of 'em, and they g-g-gave me the p-p-p-p-pip... And when
we woke up in the m-morning, there was the t-tender, on sh-shore,
about t-twenty yards away,-she had f-floated b-back again, you
see."
We were getting out into the Bay, and I asked them where they were
going.
"G-G-G-G-Give it up; there's no p-place that's s-safe for us, now.
Everyone's hand is against us."
I asked them to head for Lanesport, and told them that I expected
to meet the rest of the "Hoppergrass's" crew there.
"L-L-L-L-L-Lanesport!" exclaimed the boy at the wheel, "it w-would
be sailing into the j-j-jaws of d-d-d-death! W-Why, d-don't you
s-see when we s-stole this b-boat w-we c-committed pup-pup-piracy on
the high s-s-seas! They'd s-s-s-string us right up at the y-y-
yard-arm!"
"Oh, no, they wouldn't. I'll fix it up with Captain Bannister."
"That's all right," said Spike, "but piracy isn't the only thing
they've got against us."
"Isn't it?"
"Not by a long shot."
"Why, what else have you done?"
"B-B-Burglary, b-b-by g-g-gum! S-S-Say, what were you f-fellows
doing? This b-boat is said to be owned by n-notorious b-b-b-b-
burglars and thieves!"
I put my head down on the cabin, and laughed until I thought I
should choke.
"You can laugh, but it didn't look like a joke to us."
"You b-bet it didn't."
"Where did you go from Squid Cove?"
"We stayed right there most of the morning,--eating breakfast,
and getting some sleep, and--"
"R-R-Recoverin' from the p-p-p-p-potato-patch."
"Then we sailed around the Bay, and just fooled about until the
last part of the afternoon. All the time we were wondering who
this boat belonged to, and what they were doing about it. Once we
started to abandon her at Squid Cove, and write a 'nonymous letter
to the owner at Lanesport. Then Spook here, the big galoot,
thought it would be a good idea to sail over to Bailey's Harbor
and find out what had happened, and if there was any news of
Father and--"
"Th-That's where I w-was f-f-f-foxy!"
"Yes! So foxy that you nearly got us jugged. You would have, if we
had gone up the inlet. 'Twas just luck that we didn't. We anchored
quite a way down, and thought we'd have supper first and then go
ashore after dark. Say, those mince turnovers were great! There
was a dory came along with a couple of little boys, about nine or
ten years old. We noticed that they stopped and looked at the
boat, but we didn't think anything of that until half an hour
later. We were eating supper, down in the cabin, and Spook looked
out one of the cabin windows and saw another boat, with two men in
it. One of them was armed--"
"W-With a pup-pup-pitchfork!"
"They squinted round for a few minutes, and then THEY went up the
inlet again. 'Bout twenty minutes later, just as we were hauling
up the anchor and going to sail up to the village, Spook sung out
that there were three dories coming down, all full of men with
pitchforks--"
"And g-g-g-g-guns!"
"He said, 'They're onto us,--they've heard about our stealing this
boat!' I put her about quick, and it was mighty lucky there was a
breeze. Ten minutes before, it was almost a dead calm. As soon as
we swung around they began to yell--"
"L-L-Like b-b-blue b-b-blazes! Th-There was one g-great b-b-big
d-d-d-d-d-duffer, about t-t-ten f-feet t-t-tall! He w-was the one I
s-saw in the b-boat w-while we were eating s-supper, w-with the
pup-pup-pitchfork..."
"That was Eb," I remarked,--"it's lucky he didn't catch you!"
"E-E-Eb?"
"Yes. He's the constable. Savagest man I ever saw. He arrests
people for almost anything,--for playing banjos."
"W-Well, we d-didn't p-p-play any b-b-b-banjos then, b-by g-g-
gum! I thought it w-was all up with us, and that we'd b-be d-d-d-
dangling on the g-g-g-gallows b-b-before l-l-long! You s-see, they
g-g-gained on us, at f-first. They r-rowed l-l-like fuf-fuf-
fiends! B-But we b-began to d-draw ahead, and then the d-d-d-d-
duffer with the pup-pitchfork--he was in the b-bow of the f-first
b-boat--b-began to yell and b-b-bellow. He s-said that if we
d-didn't s-stop he'd f-fill us f-full of b-b-b-b-b-bullets!
S-Someone p-passed him up a g-g-gun, and when we saw that, I t-tell
you, we d-dropped d-down in the b-bottom of the b-boat. S-Spike
c-c-clung on to the wheel, and held her on her c-course, and we
c-crouched down there, waiting for the old b-brute to b-b-blaze
away. But he c-couldn't s-see us, and so there wasn't anyone for
him to f-fire at. M-M-Maybe it was all b-b-bluff, b-but we didn't
intend to s-stand up and t-try it, I t-tell you' After about t-ten
minutes we p-p-peeked over the rail, and they were w-way b-back.
They had g-given it up, and s-s-stopped r-rowing. P-Pretty s-soon,
they t-turned around and went b-back. B-But we thought B-B-
Bailey's Harbor was a p-pretty healthy p-place to k-k-k-keep away
from!"
"And we didn't find out until this morning," said Spike, "why they
were after us. It wasn't for taking this boat at all. We sailed
around on the Bay all night,--we didn't dare land. We stood watch-
and-watch,--I'd sleep while Spook took the wheel, and then I
sailed her while he had a nap. This morning we were off this
island about seven o'clock and we met a lobsterman in his boat. We
bought some lobsters of him and he gave us this paper."
Spike pulled it out from under a seat and handed it to me. I still
have that paper. It was the "Lanesport Herald" of the evening
before,--Wednesday evening. There was an article on the front page
headed "Capture Marauders!" Underneath, it went on: "Good
Detective Work--Flanders Holds Crooks--Daring Escape." Then I
read the article aloud:
"A clever piece of detective work on the part of Constable Eben
Flanders of Bailey's Harbor resulted in landing in jail the gang
of miscreants who have been making a series of breaks on Little
Duck Island and vicinity and terrorizing the neighborhood Tuesday
night. The miscreants who are believed to be well-known crooks and
are the same who perpetrated the breaks at the residence of Mrs.
Sarah B. Ellis last Saturday night and at the residence of Dr.
Horace Bigelow the well-known physician Monday night were
apprehended in the act of pillaging the summer residence of T.
Parker Littlefield, the prominent attorney of Boston.
"Constable Flanders was notified by Moses Silloway of Bailey's
Harbor that he had observed some parties acting suspiciously in
the vicinity of his residence and that these parties were walking
stealthily in the direction of the Littlefield residence. With his
usual promptness Constable Flanders gathered a posse and seized
the miscreants in the act. In a very short time the miscreants
were all lodged in the new jail at Bailey's Harbor to await the
action of the Court in the morning when they would have an
opportunity of explaining their actions to His Honor Judge
Treddick but when Deputy Constable Justin Coker opened the jail
this morning he found that the parties had all vanished and that
they could not be found. Considerable mystery surrounds the escape
of the miscreants and it is believed that they received assistance
from outside and that some dastard or dastards gaining access to
the jail liberated the parties.
"An important clue is held by Constable Flanders as it is known
that the parties came to Bailey's Harbor in a yacht named
Hoppergrass and a search is being made for that yacht, Constable
Flanders promising the yacht a warm reception if he finds her in
the vicinity of Bailey's Harbor with the miscreants on board."
"W-Well, he k-k-k-kept that p-p-p-promise, all r-right!" remarked
Spook.
"Only you see," said Spike, "the miscreants weren't on board."
"That wouldn't have made any difference to Eb," I told him, "he'd
have run you in just as quick."
"Now you s-see why we're a l-l-little sh-shy of going anywhere! W-
With F-Father at B-Big D-Duck, p-p-p-probably, n-n-n-gnashing his
t-t-teeth, w-we have only g-got the ch-choice b-between being s-s-
strung up for pup-pup-pirates at L-L-Lanesport or j-j-jugged f-for
b-b-b-burglars at B-B-Bailey's Harbor."
"But you haven't told us yet what you had done," Spike remarked,
"did YOU break into Littlefield's house?"
So I gave them the whole story, beginning with Tuesday afternoon,
when we left Captain Bannister on the "Hoppergrass" at Bailey's
Harbor. I told them how we came back there and found our boat
gone, how we blundered into Littlefield's house in the fog, how we
were caught, how we escaped from jail, and all the rest of it.
Then I told about my trip to Rogers's Island, how I saw the
Professor and Mr. Snider under the wharf, and how they suspected
me of spying on them, and tried to keep me on the Island.
"It was about the first lucky thing that has happened," I said,
"when I found you. Snider could run pretty well, and the Professor
was there, too, to head me off,--and I couldn't keep running
around that island forever."
"S-Say," said Spook, "l-l-let's have some g-g-grub. T-Take the
wheel, will you, S-Spike?"
He and I went below, and brought up some things to eat. We were
well out in the Bay now,--Rogers's Island was only a dim blue spot
astern. We ate luncheon, and discussed where we should go. I was
trying to make them see that it would be safe enough to sail over
to Lanesport, when Spook paused, with a banana raised toward his
mouth.
"W-W-What's that b-boat?" he asked.
He was looking straight ahead. Both Spike and I looked under the
boom and saw the sail of a yacht about a mile away. She was headed
directly for us.
"Oh, some boat,--or other," said Spike, nibbling at a jam-covered
cracker, which Spook had fixed for him.
"L-L-Let's ch-change our c-course a b-bit,--she m-may be f-full
of p-p-persons with pup-pup-pitchforks."
"Rats!" remarked Spike.
But he shifted the course, just the same. We drew away from the
strange yacht for about three minutes, and then,--
"Sh-She's c-coming about!" shouted Spook.
She certainly was coming about. In a few seconds she was headed
for us once again.
"I d-don't know about you f-fellows, b-but I'll never b-be t-taken
alive. It's those d-d-d-duffers from B-Bailey's Harbor again,--
they've p-probably got c-c-cannon on b-board this t-time!"
Spike sat in silence, looking back at the stranger now and then.
After about five minutes he said:
"They're not gaining on us much."
It was hard to tell whether they gained or not. As far as I could
see there had not been any change in the distance between us since
the other boat came about. There was a good breeze and both boats
were now running before it.
"L-Let's c-clear away this g-g-grub,--we want r-room to r-repel
b-b-boarders."
"We won't have to repel them," said I, "they can't catch us."
"If they do," replied Spike, "they'll only get aboard this boat
through a perfectly murderous fire of raspberry jam."
"R-Raspberry j-j-jam d-doesn't r-repel b-b-boarders," said Spook,
hustling the dishes below, "h-h-half as m-m-much as s-s-stewed
p-p-prunes." He stopped, with his head out of the cabin door.
"S-S-Say!" he exclaimed, pointing, "isn't th-that another b-boat?"
There was another boat, certainly,--a sail had appeared some
distance behind the yacht we had first sighted.
"They're not chasing us," remarked Spike; "somebody's chasing
them!"
"What makes you think anybody is chasing anybody?" I asked. "They
may be just out for a sail. Anyone would think there was a war
going on here in Broad Bay."
"Th-There's b-b-battle, m-murder, and s-s-sudden d-death g-g-
going on for us,--at B-Bailey's Harbor. And l-l-look! B-By J-J-J-
Jiminy Kuk-Kuk-Crickets! There's another b-boat!"
"Oh, they're all probably pleasure boats, like this one."
"D-D-Do you c-c-call this a p-p-pleasure b-boat? S-Seems to m-me
the 'H-Hoppergrass' is b-becoming a b-b-burden, like the one in
the B-Bible."
"Just the same," said Spike, looking back uneasily, "this last one
has come from Rogers's Island, I should think. Do you suppose it
is Snider and the other man? Did they have a boat?"
"I didn't see any," I replied.
"They'd be sure to have one, though."
Spook went down into the cabin again, to get Captain Bannister's
spy-glass. While he was down there, hunting for it, his brother
and I watched the yacht and the two smaller sailboats behind us.
The yacht and the boat which came from the direction of Rogers's
Island were so situated that a line drawn between them would have
formed the base of a triangle at the apex of which was the
"Hoppergrass." The other small boat was half a mile or more behind
the yacht. As we watched the three of them, the wind dropped a
little, and there came a hot puff from the land.
"Hullo!" said Spike, "there won't be any chasing if the wind goes
down much more."
Spook came on deck with the spy-glass and spent some time in
trying to make out who was on the three boats. Beyond thinking
that he saw pitchforks on all of them, however, he did not give us
much information. The wind continued to fail, and it got hotter
and hotter. In ten minutes we were sailing at a very slow rate,--
hardly more than moving. The yacht was becalmed, its sail
flapping. The little boat from Rogers's Island, however, still had
a breeze; it was about half a mile distant and drawing up on us.
The behavior of the wind was explained by a mass of white clouds,
dark underneath, which had been piling up in the west. For an hour
they had been gathering, and now we saw that they were thunder-
heads. They promised all the wind we needed, before long.
Presently the small boat ran into the calm streak, and her sail,
too, hung loose. She was near enough now for us to see that she
was merely a large sailing dory. There were two men on board her,
but whether they were Mr. Snider and the Professor I could not
tell. I reached for the spy-glass, when Spike said:
"They're going to row."
One of the men had lowered the sail, and the other was getting out
a long pair of oars.
"W-Well, what's the matter with our d-d-doing that, too?"
"We can't row this boat, you chump!"
"N-No, b-but one of us c-c-can t-take a line in the t-t-tender,
and t-tow her."
"They'll go three feet to our one."
"That's all right," I said, "it's worth trying. We can keep away
from them for a while. There's a breeze coming out of those clouds
in a few minutes, and then we can sail around them in circles."
I was anxious to get away. I had had a glimpse through the spy-
glass, and thought I recognized Mr. Snider. We hauled the tender
alongside, and Spook got in it to begin the towing. Just as he did
so, and as I was standing outside the cock-pit, there came a sound
above my head as if the air had been split open.
"Wh-wh-whi-i-i-i-ing--whip!"
The sail of the "Hoppergrass" shivered and the halliards rattled.
Almost at the same instant there was a sharp "Crack!" from the
dory behind us.
"The blooming sons-of-guns!" exclaimed Spike; "they're firing at
us!"
"Firing?"
"Yes; a rifle. Look there!"
There was a puff of smoke floating away from the dory.
"And see that little hole in the sail. That's where the bullet
went through."
Spike and I dropped into the cock-pit, and crouched below the
seats. Spike hurriedly told his brother to do the same.
"N-N-No, I g-g-guess I'm better off right here. He'll have to d-d-
drill through b-both s-sides of the 'G-G-Grasshopper',--I m-mean
the 'H-Hoppergrass' before he can hit m-me. I'm afraid B-B-Brother
S-S-Snider is f-f-forgetting to be g-g-good!"
And then we could hear him quoting Mr. Snider.
"'It's the w-way to b-b-be h-happy, F-F-Frederick, and s-s-
successful, and R-RICH. D-D-Did you ever hear of Abraham P. F-F-
F-Fillmore, F-F-Frederick?'"
There was an interval--not a very pleasant one--while we waited
for Mr. Snider to try another shot at us.
"Here's the wind!" said Spike, suddenly; "climb aboard!"
Spook crawled into the "Hoppergrass" just as we felt the first
cool gust against our faces. A cloud blew across the sun for an
instant. The boom swung out with a rattle and a bump, the sail
filled, and the "Hoppergrass" heeled over to the breeze. It was
only a light puff, and it did not last long, but it was enough to
get us under way once more. Spike and I took a peek toward Mr.
Snider's boat. They were getting up their sail, so Spike jumped up
on the seat again. He was in danger there, if they should fire
again, but as he said, he could not sail the boat while he was
crouched on deck.
The dory's sail went up in a jiffy, and again the wind seemed to
favor them, for they pulled up on us rapidly. We were sailing, but
by no means as well as at first. The Professor was steering their
boat, I thought, but it was impossible to be sure. Both men kept
almost entirely out of sight.
Then we caught the breeze again. It was puffy and uncertain,--the
forerunner of a squall.
"We'll say good-bye to 'em now," exclaimed Spike, gleefully.
"B-But we won't sh-shake that yacht s-s-so easy,--l-look at 'em!
H-Hoisting a j-j-jib, d-d-d-dod r-rabbit 'em!"
We had forgotten the other boats, in our excitement over the dory.
Spike looked back over his shoulder.
"This seems like persecution to me," he remarked. "One trouble
after another. No chance to put any more sail on this boat," he
added.
"And no sail to put," said I.
"Look! They're setting a spinnaker, too! Now they'll come!"
We saw the long boom run out, waver, and settle into place. Then
there bulged out upon it a great mass of canvas that made the jib
look like a handkerchief. The yacht simply tore through the water.
Any hope of keeping ahead of her for ten minutes was absurd. She
was really trying to catch us now, and she was doing it. She grew
in size every second, an overwhelming cloud of canvas,--a fine
sight on the darkening water.
"T-T-Tack!" exclaimed Spook, "she c-can't s-sail into the wind
with that s-spinnaker!"
"What's the good?" growled Spike, "she can sail all round this
boat, just with her mainsail and jib."
Now the yacht bore down on us with a rush, cutting through the
water and sending spray flying on either side of the bow. The dory
was forgotten as we watched this new enemy. There was no one to be
seen on board,--the spread of her canvas hid everything.
Just as her bow-sprit pushed by the stern of the "Hoppergrass"
something white stirred near the mast. Then two wings flapped, and
there was a sound of "Quack! Quack! Quaa-a-a-a-ck!"
CHAPTER XII
THE VOYAGE BEGINS AGAIN
At the same moment Captain Bannister poked his head under the sail
and looked at us. His face was grim--as it might have been that
time he was chased by pirates in the China Sea--and he had a
double-barreled shot-gun in his hand.
When he saw me his mouth opened, and he stared helplessly. I
caught sight of Mr. Daddles standing near the Captain, Sprague at
the wheel, and Jimmy Toppan and some others busy with the sails.
Then I fully realized what had first dawned on me when I heard the
quacking of Simon the duck. This was Sprague's boat, of course. It
was not strange that I hadn't recognized her. Coming up as she
did, bow on, there was very little to distinguish her from any
other yacht. And I was never familiar with her appearance.
(By the way, I have forgotten to tell the name of the yacht. It
was the "White Rabbit,"--named, said Sprague, after his favorite
character in a book. And as the boat was painted black, it pleased
him especially to call her this, in order to annoy the matter-of-
fact Chief.)
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 | 10 |
11