Author: Sewell Ford
Category: Humorous
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CHAPTER XIII
WHEN THE NAVY HORNED IN
One thing about this yacht-cruisin' act is how close a line you get onthe people you're shut up with. Why, this cross-mated bunch of ourshadn't been out in the _Agnes_ more'n three days before I could havetold you the life hist'ry of 'most everyone in the party.
I knew that the late Mr. Mumford had been a noble soul who wore fullface lambrequins and was fussy about his food. From the picture Mrs.Mumford showed Vee and me, I judged he must have looked like an upstatebanker; but come to get down to cases, she admits he was in the coaland lumber business over in Montclair, New Jersey.
About J. Dudley Simms I dug up all kinds of information. He'd beenbrought up by an old uncle who'd made a million or so runnin' an alebrewery and who had a merry little dream that he was educatin' J.Dudley to be a minister. If he'd lasted a couple of years longer, too,it would have been the Rev. J. Dudley Simms for a fact; but when unclecashed in, Dudley left the divinity school abrupt and forgot ever to goback.
I even discovered that Professor Leonidas Barr, the fish expert and OldHickory's cribbage partner, had once worked in a shoe store and couldstill guess the size of a young lady's foot by lookin' at her hands.But when it came to collectin' any new dope about Captain Killam, he'sstill Rupert the Mysterious.
Durin' them long days when we went churnin' steady and monotonous downtowards the hook end of Florida, with nothin' happenin' but sleep andmeals, 'most everybody sort of drifted together and got folksy. NotRupert, though. He don't forget for a minute that he's conductin' adark and desperate hunt for pirate gold, and he don't seem contentedunless he's workin' at it every hour of the day.
Course, after he's pulled that break of tacklin' J. Dudley for a mutinyplotter, Old Hickory shuts down on his sleuthin' around the decks, sohe takes it out in gazin' suspicious at the horizon through a pair offield glasses he always wears strapped to him. Don't seem to cheer himup any, either, to have me ask him frivolous questions.
"Can you spot any movie shows or hot-dog wagons out there, Cap'n?" Iasks.
He just glares peevish and declines to answer.
"What you lookin' for, anyway?" I goes on.
"Nothing I care to discuss with you, I think," says he.
"Bing-g-g," says I. "Right on the wrist!"
And then all of a sudden Mrs. Mumford gets hipped with the idea thatRupert is sort of bein' neglected. Well, trust her. She's been asunshine worker and a social uplifter all her life. And no sooner doesshe get sympathizin' with Rupert than she starts plannin' ways ofchirkin' him up.
"The poor dear Captain!" she gurgles gushy. "He seems so lonely andsad. Who knows what his past has been, how many dangers he has faced,what ordeals he has been through? If someone could only get him totalk about them, it might help."
"Why not tackle him, then?" says I. "Nobody could do it better thanyou."
"Oh, really now!" protests Mrs. Mumford, duckin' her chin kittenish."I--I couldn't do it alone. Perhaps, though, if you young peoplewould--"
"Oh, we will; won't we, Torchy?" says Vee.
I nods. Inside of half an hour, too, we had towed Rupert into a cornerbeside the widow and had him surrounded.
"Tell me, Captain," says Mrs. Mumford impulsive, "have you not led amost romantic life?"
Rupert rolls his eyes at her quick, then steadies 'em down and blinkssolemn. Kind of weird, starey eyes, them buttermilk blue panes of hisare.
"I--I don't say much about it, as a rule," says he, droppin' hiseyelids modest.
"There!" exclaims Mrs. Mumford. "I just knew it was so. One daringadventure after another, I suppose, with no thought of fear."
"Oh, I've been afraid plenty of times," says Rupert, "but somehow I--Well, I've gone on."
"Isn't he splendid?" asks Mrs. Mumford, turnin' to us. "Just like ahero in a book! But we would like to know from the very beginning. Asa boy, now?"
"There wasn't much," protests Rupert. "You see, I lived in a littletown in southern Illinois. Father ran a general store. I had to helpin it--sold shingle nails, molasses, mower teeth, overalls. How Ihated that! But there was the creek and the muck pond. I had an oldboat. I played smuggler and pirate. I used to love to read piratebooks. I wanted to go to sea."
"So you ran away and became a sailor," adds Mrs. Mumford, clappin' herhands enthusiastic.
"I planned to lots of times," says Rupert, "but father made me gothrough the academy. Then afterwards I had to teach school--in a roughdistrict. Once some big boys tried to throw me into a snowdrift. Wehad a terrible fight."
"It must have been awful," says Mrs. Mumford. "Those big, brutal boys!I can just see them. Did--did you kill any of them?"
"I hit one on the nose quite hard," says Rupert. "Then, of course, Ihad to give up teaching. I meant to start off for sea that winter, butfather was taken sick. Lungs, you know. So we sold out the store andbought a place down in Florida, an orange grove. It was on the westcoast, near the Gulf.
"That's where I learned to sail. And after father died I took my shareof what he left us and bought a cruising boat. I didn't like workingon the grove--messing around with smelly fertilizer, sawing off deadlimbs, doing all that silly spraying. And my brother Jim could do itso much better. So I fished and took out winter tourists onexcursions: things like that. Summers I'd go cruising down the coast.I would be gone for weeks at a time. I've been out in some fearfulstorms, too.
"I got to know a lot of strange characters who live on those west coastkeys. They're bad, some of them--kill you for a few dollars. Othersare real friendly, like the old fellow who told me about the buriedtreasure. He was almost dead of fever when I found him in his littlepalmetto shack. I got medicine for him, stayed until he was well.That's why he told me about the gold."
"Think of that!" says Mrs. Mumford. "He had been a pirate himself,hadn't he?"
"Well, hardly," says Rupert. "A tinsmith, I think he told me. He wasa tough old citizen, though--an atheist or something like that. Veryprofane. Used chewing tobacco."
Mrs. Mumford shudders. "And you were alone with such a desperado, on adesert island!" she gasps, rollin' her eyes.
"Oh, I can generally look out for myself," says Rupert, tappin' his hippocket.
He was fairly beamin', Rupert was, for Mrs. Mumford was not onlylettin' him write his own ticket, but was biddin' his stock above par.And all the rest of the day he swells around chesty, starin' out at theocean as important as if he owned it all.
"At last," says I, "we know the romance of Rupert."
"I hope it doesn't keep me awake nights," says Vee.
"Look at the bold, bad ex-school teacher," says I. "Wonder whatblood-curdlin' mind plays he's indulgin' in now? There! He'sunlimberin' the glasses again."
It must have been about four o'clock, for I remember hearin' eightbells strike and remarkin' to Vee what a silly way that was to keeptrack of time. We was watchin' Rupert go through hisColumbus-discoverin'-Staten-Island motions, and I was workin' up somejosh to hand him, when he comes rushin' back to the wireless room. No,we didn't stretch our ears intentional, and if we sidled up under thecabin window it must have been because there was a couple of deckchairs spread out convenient.
"Isn't that some kind of warship off there?" Captain Killam isdemandin' of Meyers.
"Wait," says the operator, fittin' on his tin ear. "He's justcalling." Then, after listenin' a while, he announces: "He wants toknow who we are."
"Don't answer," orders Killam.
"Oh, all right," says Meyers, and goes on listenin'. Pretty soon,though, he gives out another bulletin.
"It's the United States gunboat _Petrel_, and he's demanding who andwhat. Real snappy this time. Guess I'd better flash it to him, eh?"
"No, no!" says Rupert. "It's no business of his. This is a privateyacht bound for a home port. Let him whistle."
It struck me at the time as a nutty thing to do, but of course I'm nojudge. I had a hunch that Rupert was registe
rin' importance andshowin' how he was boss of the expedition--something he hadn't a chanceto get over before. It ain't long, though, before Meyers beginstalkin' like he was uneasy.
"He wants to know," says he, "if our wireless is out of commission, andif it is why we don't run up a signal."
"Bah!" says Rupert. "These naval officers are too nosey. It'll dothis one good if we take no notice of him."
"All the same," insists Meyers, "I think Mr. Ellins and the Captainought to know what's going on."
"Oh, very well," says Rupert. "I'll call them down and we'll talk itover."
Course, we had to clear out then, for it's a secret confab of the wholeexecutive committee that develops, includin' Auntie. But we got a fullreport later. It seems Rupert was skittish about havin' naval officerssnoopin' around the yacht. For one thing, he don't want 'em to findout that this is a treasure-huntin' cruise, on account of thegovernment's bein' apt to hog part of the swag. Then, there's all themguns stowed away below. He explains how this _Petrel_ is a slow oldtub that he don't believe could overhaul the _Agnes_ before dark. Sowhy not make a run for it?
The reg'lar yacht captain was dead against anything like that. Hewouldn't advise monkeyin' with the United States Navy, if they wasaskin' him. Better chuck the guns overboard. As for Old Hickory, hewas sort of on the fence.
Who do you guess it was, though, that stood out for makin' the nervygetaway? Auntie. Uh-huh! All this panicky talk by Meyers and theyacht captain only warmed up her sportin' blood. What right, shewanted to know, had a snippy little gunboat to hold up a private partyof perfectly good New Yorkers and ask 'em where they was goin'? Humph!What was the government, anyway? Just a lot of cheap officeholders whospent their time bothering our best people about customs duties andincome taxes. For her part, she didn't care a snap about the navy. Ifthe _Agnes_ could get away, why not breeze ahead?
I expect that proposition must have appealed to Old Hickory, for heswung to her side at the last, and that's the way it was settled. Theydecided to make no bones about what was up. Mr. Ellins calls ustogether and makes a little speech, sayin' if anybody don't like theprospect he's sorry, but it can't be helped.
Then the crew gets busy. Black smoke begins pourin' out of the stackand the engines are tuned up to top speed. All the awnin's are takenin and every flag pulled down. The _Agnes_ proceeds to hump herself,too.
"Twelve knots," reports Old Hickory, inspectin' the patent log. "TheCaptain thinks he can get fourteen out of her. The _Petrel's_ best issixteen."
"At least, we have a good start," says Auntie, gazin' off where a thinsmudge shows on the sky line. "And before they can get near enough toshoot they can't see us. I suppose they'd be just impudent enough toshoot if they could?"
"Oh, yes," says Old Hickory. "We're outlaws now, you know."
"Who cares?" says Auntie, shruggin' her shoulders.
Say, I wasn't so much surprised at Mr. Ellins. He's spent most of hislife slippin' things over on the government. Auntie, though! Asteady, solemn old girl with her pedigree printed in the SocialRegister. You wouldn't have thought it of her.
"Some plunger, Auntie, eh?" says I to Vee. "She don't seem to carewhat happens."
"I never knew she could be so reckless," says Vee. "Getting us chasedby a warship! Isn't that rather dangerous, Torchy?"
"I shouldn't call it the mildest outdoor sport there was," says I.
"And the casual way she talks of our being shot at--as if they'd firetennis balls!" goes on Vee.
"I didn't care for that part of the conversation myself," says I. "I'mno hero, like Rupert. If there's any shootin' takes place, I'm goin'to get nervous. I feel it comin' on."
"You don't think Auntie and Mr. Ellins would let it go that far, doyou?" asks Vee.
"It would be just like Auntie to fire back," says I. "What's a navymore or less to her, when she gets her jaw set?"
"I--I wish I hadn't come on this old yacht," says Vee.
"If I could row you ashore," says I, "I wouldn't mind stayin' to keepyou company. Look! That smoke off there's gettin' nearer."
If Auntie and Old Hickory was pinin' for thrills, it looked like theywas due to get their wish. Just what would happen in case the _Agnes_was run down nobody seemed to know. The only thing our two old sportswas interested in just then was this free-for-all race.
Anyway, we had a fine evenin' for it. The ocean was as smooth as afull bathtub, and all tinted up in pinks and purples, like one ofBelasco's back drops. Off over the bow to the right--excuse me, to thestarboard--a big, ruddy sun was droppin' slow and touchin' up the topof a fluffy pile of cottony clouds back of us, that looked like theywas balanced right on the edge of things. Bang in the middle of thatpeaceful background, though, was this smear of black smoke, and youdidn't have to be any marine dill pickle to tell it was headed our way.
We groups ourselves on the after deck and watches. Everybody thatcould annexes a pair of field glasses; but, even with that help, aboutall you could see was some white foam piled up against a gray bow. Nowand then Rupert announces that she's gainin' on us, and Old Hickorynods his head.
"Only an hour until sunset, though," Auntie remarks.
"I suppose," suggests Rupert, "we could change our course after darkand slip into Miami Bay."
"No," says Old Hickory, waggin' his head stubborn. "We will hold ourcourse right down through Florida Straits. We ought to make Key Westby morning, if we're not over-hauled."
"If!" I whispers to Vee.
Dinner was announced, but for once there's no grand rush below. Mr.Ellins orders a hand-out meal to be passed around, and we fills up onsandwiches while keepin' watch on that black smudge, which is creepin'closer and closer. Don't take long for it to get dark down in thispart of the country after the sun is doused, but the stars shine mightybright. On the water, too, it seems so much lighter.
Then the _Petrel_ turns on a couple of search-lights. Course, we was'way out of range, but somehow it seemed like them swingin' streaks oflight was goin' to reach out and pick us up any minute. For an hour orso we watched 'em feelin' for us, gettin' a bit nearer, reachin' andswingin', with the _Agnes_ strainin' herself to slip away, but losin' alittle of her lead every minute.
Must have been near ten o'clock when Rupert announces cheerful: "ByGeorge! She's falling behind. Those searchlights are getting dimmer."
"I believe you're right," says Old Hickory.
Half an hour more and there was no doubt about it.
"Humph!" says Auntie. "I was sure we could do it."
And Mr. Ellins is so tickled that he orders up a couple of bottles ofhis best fizz, so all hands can drink to the U. S. Navy.
"Long may it wave," says J. Dudley Simms, "and may it always stick toits new motto--Safety First."
He got quite a hand on that, and then everybody turned in happy. As Iwent to sleep the _Agnes_ was still joggin' along at her best gait, andit was comfortin' to know that our wrathy naval friends had been lefthopelessly behind.
I expect I must have been poundin' my ear real industrious for five orsix hours when I hears this distant _boom_, and comes up in my berth assudden as if someone had pulled the string. Sunshine was streamin' inthrough the porthole, and I was just wonderin' if I'd slept rightthrough the breakfast gong when _boom_! it came again. There's a rushof feet on deck, some panicky remarks from the man up in the bow, aquick clangin' of the engine-room bells, and then I feels thepropellers reversed.
"Good night!" says I. "Pinched on the high seas!"
I didn't waste much time except to throw on a few clothes; but, atthat, I finds Auntie scrabblin' out ahead of me and Captain Killamalready on deck. She's a picturesque old girl, Auntie, in a lavenderand white kimono and a boudoir cap to match; and Rupert, in bluetrousers and a pajama top, hardly looks like a triple-plated hero.
"Nabbed!" gasps Rupert, starin' over the rail, at a gray gunboat that'sjust roundin' in towards us. It's the _Petrel_, sure enough.
"
The idea!" says Auntie. "They were shooting at us, too, weren't they?Of all things!"
Then up pads Old Hickory in a low-necked silk dressin'-gown, with hisgray hair all rumpled and a heavy crop of white stubble on his solidset jaws.
"Huh!" says he, takin' a glance at the _Petrel_.
That's about all there is to be said, too. For it was odd how littleany of us felt like bein' chatty. We just stood around quiet andwatched the businesslike motions on the _Petrel_ as she stops about ablock off and proceeds to drop a boat into the water.
Projectin' prominent from one of her steel bay windows is awicked-lookin' gun about the size of a young water main, and behind ita lot of jackies squintin' at us earnest. And you know how still itseems on a boat when the engines quit. I almost jumps when someonewhispers in my ear. It's Vee.
"Now I hope Auntie's satisfied," says she.
"There's no tellin' about her," says I.
Anyway, she wasn't fannin' herself, or sniffin' smellin' salts. I'dnoticed her hail a deck steward, and the next I knew she was spoonin'away at half a grapefruit, as calm as you please. Mr. Ellins isindulgin' in a dry smoke. Only Mrs. Mumford, when she finally appears,does justice to the situation. She rolls her eyes, breathes hard, andclutches her crochet bag desperate.
The _Petrel_ people were takin' their time about things. After theygot the boat in they had to let down some side stairs, and then thesailors waited with their oars ready until an officer in a freshlaundered white uniform gets in and gives the signal to shove off. OurCaptain has the companionway stairs rigged, too, and there ain't a wordpassed until the naval gent comes aboard. He's rather a youngishparty, with a round, good-natured face, and he seems kind of amused ashe sizes up our bunch in their early mornin' costumes.
"Pardon me," says he, touchin' his cap, "but who is in charge of thisyacht?"
"I suppose I am," says Old Hickory.
"Not a bit more than I," puts in Auntie. "And I want to tell you rightnow, young man, that I consider your action in shooting off those gunsat us was--"
"I presume you recognize the United States Navy, madam?" breaks in theofficer.
"Not necessarily," snaps Auntie. "I don't in the least see why weshould, I'm sure."
"Certainly we do," corrects Old Hickory. "But, as Mrs. Hemmingwayobserves, we dislike to be shot at."
"Even though you couldn't hit us," adds Auntie.
The officer grins.
"Oh, our gunners aren't as bad as that," says he. "We were merelyshooting across your bows, you know. I am Lieutenant CommanderFaulhaber, and it is part of my duty to overhaul and inspect anysuspicious acting craft."
"Why didn't you do it last night, then?" demands Auntie.
"Because we blew out a cylinder gasket," says he. "The _Petrel_ isn'ta new boat, by any means, and hardly in first-class shape. But wemanaged to patch her up, you see."
"Humph!" says Auntie.
Honest, I was almost sorry for that naval gent before she got throughwith him, for she sure did state her opinion, free and forcible, of hisholdin' us up this way. He stands and takes it, too, until she's allthrough.
"Sorry you feel that way about it," says he, "but I shall be obliged tomake a thorough search of this boat, nevertheless. Also I shallrequire an explanation as to why you disregarded my wireless orders.Unless you can satisfy me that--"
It's about there this cheery hail comes from J. Dudley Simms, who isjust appearin' from his stateroom, all dolled up complete in whiteflannels.
"By Jove!" he sings out. "If it isn't Folly. How are you, old man?"
The lieutenant commander swings around with a pleased look.
"Why--er--that you, Dud, old chap? Say, what are you these days?Blockade runner, smuggler, or what?"
"You're warm, Folly, you're warm!" says Dudley. "Hunting for buriedtreasure, that's our game--pirate gold--all that sort of thing."
And say, in less than two shakes he's given the whole snap away, inspite of Old Hickory scowlin' and Auntie glarin' like she meant tomurder him with her grapefruit spoon.
But the news don't seem to impress Lieutenant Commander Faulhaber veryserious.
"Not really?" says he, chucklin'. "Oh? Then that's the reason for allthis mystery? Treasure hunting! Well, well!" And he grins moreexpansive than ever as he takes another look around.
Next he's introduced proper to everybody, and inside of ten minuteswe're all sitting down to breakfast together, while J. Dudley explainshow him and Folly has been lifelong chums.
So we didn't get pinched, after all.
"Although," says the lieutenant commander, as he starts back towardsthe _Petrel_, "I suppose I ought to fine you for exceeding the speedlimit."
The _Agnes_ has got under way again, and we'd stopped wavin' good-by tothe jackies, when I catches a glimpse of a head bein' poked cautiousout from under the canvas cover of one of our lifeboats. Nudgin' Veeto look, I steps up to Mr. Ellins, who's talkin' with Auntie and Mrs.Mumford, and points out my discovery. By that time the head has beenfollowed by a pair of shoulders.
Old Hickory just narrows his eyes and stares.
"Why!" gasps Mrs. Mumford, "it--it's Captain Killam!"
"Yep!" says I. "Rupert the Reckless. Only this trip he seems to beplayin' it safe, eh?"
"In hiding!" says Auntie. "All the time, too!"
"Huh!" grunts Old Hickory, watchin' Killam crawl out and slip around acorner. But say, Mr. Ellins can make that "Huh!" of his mean a lot.He knows when he's been buffaloed, take it from me. My guess is thatRupert's stock is in for a bad slump. I'd quote him about thirty offand no bids.