Jess of the Rebel Trail Part 17

After midnight the last clouds rolled away and the stars appeared. The gale subsided to a fair sailing breeze, and the "Eb and Flo" ploughed steadily on her way. Eben was tired as he stood hour after hour at the wheel, and he knew from the motion of the man tending the sail that he too was weary. There was nothing else, however, for them to do, and so without a word of complaint each kept at his task.

Dawn found them at the entrance to Grand Bay, the largest body of water in the entire river. From here a long close-hauled tack would bring them to the Narrows, a rocky gorge-like formation leading to the noted Reversible Falls below. The tide now was running down, and this greatly aided the boat in her onward sweep. Far away in the east the sky rapidly reddened, and the light of a new day was dispelling the shades of night. Eben's heart caught the glow of the rising sun, and a spirit of elation possessed him. He had brought the boat in safety this far, and in another hour he hoped to have her tied up at one of the wharves, ready to slip through the falls when the tide served.

Just before entering the Narrows, Eben called Donaster up from the cabin. He had to shout several times before he received any response, for the man had fallen asleep in his chair. He stumbled sleepily on deck and looked around.

"Why, we're almost to the city!" he exclaimed.

"Sure. Ye didn't imagine we was tied up to a tree, did ye?"

Donaster walked to the side of the boat and looked over.

"I forgot all about the motor-boat last night," he remarked. "But I see it hung fast all right."

"An' a wonder it did," Eben replied. "The rope must have been a good one. It held better 'n the anchor. Guess it's gone fer sure."

"Chain break?" Donaster queried.

"Something's gone, that's certain. We're not draggin' the anchor, anyway. We couldn't git this fer with the anchor towin' below. It would have caught in something or other an' brought us up if it had been there. But it ain't there. The chain must have snapped an' let the boat go adrift. It broke once before an' dad fixed it with a piece of wire. Now we've got to buy a new anchor, an' mebbe a new chain. It doesn't pay to botch things, does it?"

Donaster made no reply, but stood looking straight before him. He had not heard Eben's words, for his mind was upon matters of more importance to him than an old chain and anchor. They were gliding down the Narrows now, the wind and current bearing them rapidly along. They had reached the first turn and had swung sharply to the left, when the first glimpse of the city appeared to view. In another quarter of an hour they hoped to be at one of the wharves, and the boat tied up.

The current was much swifter now, and Eben was becoming anxious. He knew the danger of the place, and hitherto his father had always piloted the "Eb and Flo" through the Narrows. If the breeze would only hold, he could easily make thee wharf. Should it fail, there would be serious trouble as the current would bear them rapidly down to the falls. But so far the wind served, and the boat sped steadily forward.

A few minutes more and the wharf would be reached. Eben felt quite safe now, and the anxious expression disappeared from his face.

But such was not to be, for in a twinkling the wind died down, and the sail hung limp and useless. With a startled cry, Eben gave the wheel a rapid turn and headed the boat for the sh.o.r.e, hoping thus to escape from the racing current into slower water to the left. But the "Eb and Flo" was in the grip of a stronger master, and swinging partly around, obeyed the current's strong behest. Leaving the now useless wheel, Eben rushed to the side of the boat and lifted up his voice in a series of ringing calls for help. He was heard on sh.o.r.e, and he saw men running to and fro. Several tugs were lying at their wharves, but no smoke issued from their funnels. What was he to do? He looked ahead, and the wild, boiling, leaping waters of the falls seemed terribly near. Instantly he thought of the motorboat. It would save them. But Donaster and his companion had thought of it first and were already on board. The rope was almost untied when Donaster called to him.

"Come with us. This is our only chance. Hustle."

Only for a second did Eben hesitate. He was young and life was dear.

But he must not leave. He was in charge of the "Eb and Flo," and no true commander ever deserted his post of duty. He would not be a coward. The engine was already started, and the propeller was churning the water.

"Hurry up," Donaster impatiently ordered.

"I'm not going," was the reply. "Hustle yourselves."

"Are you crazy, boy? It's sure death down there!"

"Can't help it. I'm goin' to stay."

Donaster was about to further insist, when Bill stepped quickly forward, shoved him roughly aside, and tore away the rope from its fastening.

"Leave the fool if he doesn't want to come," he growled. "We can't waste any more time."

The motor-boat immediately left the "Eb and Flo," and was soon bucking across the current to the left. Eben watched them as if in a dream.

He felt now that nothing could save him, for no one could go through the falls at almost low tide, especially on a stone laden boat, and live. The roar of the leaping waters was pounding in his ears, and the boat was moving more rapidly than ever. In a few minutes all hope of rescue would be past, for the tide was now running like a mill-sluice.

Eben was standing near the bow of the boat, his heart beating fast, and his face white as death. How often he had heard his father tell of the boats which had gone through the falls, and those on board had never been heard of again. Great whirlpools below, so it was believed, had sucked down their bodies into vast underground pa.s.sages. And soon his body would be there! The thought was appalling, maddening. His eyes were riveted upon the breakers ahead. They fascinated him as they leaped and curled. Their roar sounded like voices of demons, and the dancing spray appeared like long white curving hands reaching out ready to grasp their victim.

Suddenly above the thunder of the waters a hoa.r.s.e blast rent the air.

Eben turned, and as he did so his heart gave a great bound, for there but a short distance away was a powerful tug. Where she had come from he did not know. Neither did he care. It was enough for him that she was near, with men standing on the bow with coils of ropes in their hands. They shouted aloud, but he could not understand what was said.

The tug was coming across the current, and running a fearful risk in attempting the rescue. Then a rope was flung across the bow of the "Eb and Flo," and in a twinkling Eben was upon it. Never in his life had he pulled so hard and fast, for everything depended upon his efforts now. How long that rope seemed to be. He could hear the shouts of the men on the tug, and they seemed to be words of encouragement. The rope was long, and the warp, for which he was pulling, was dragging heavily in the water. Could he get it aboard? Would he have the strength?

These thoughts pa.s.sed through his mind with lightning rapidity. But still he kept on, and ere long he had the joy of seeing the big hook loom in sight. Then an almost superhuman pull, and the warp was on deck, and securely fastened around the capstan. A shout went up from the tug when this had been accomplished, and Eben staggered back, exhausted by his mighty efforts. He saw the warp suddenly tighten, and felt the "Eb and Flo" swerve to the right. Would the line hold? That was the all-important question now. The strain was terrible, and the rail over which it pa.s.sed snapped like matchwood. It creaked, as it bit into the deal below, and at times Eben imagined he could see the strands parting. Fortunately it was a new rope and held firm as the tug battled its way against that racing current. Inch by inch it moved, dragging its heavy, helpless burden from the jaws of destruction. There were no shouts now on board the tug, for in the presence of so great a danger and with so much at stake lips were silent.

Eben stood like a statue near the capstan, his eyes fixed upon that straining warp, to him the rope of deliverance. He knew that it was holding, and that the tug was making better headway now. The crisis was past, and in a few minutes he felt sure that he would be safe.

Neither was he mistaken, for ere long the tug escaped the deadly current by drawing somewhat to the left. Then from the sh.o.r.e he heard cheers and shouts of excited men who had gathered there. Several blasts from the tug sounded forth as signals of her success, as she triumphantly ploughed her way to a wharf on the right.

Eben could not recall very clearly what happened after that. He heard numerous voices as the boat was being tied up, saw as in a dream men crowding on board, and listened to their questions and words of congratulation. He was dazed by the confusion, and longed to be away by himself that he might think. He was only able to do this, however, when the crowd had departed, and he was left alone upon deck. He had not deserted his post of duty, and a thrill of pleasure swept over him at the thought that he had been true to his trust. Then his mind turned suddenly to Jess Randall. He wondered if she would ever hear of what he had done, and if she did, would she be proud of him?

CHAPTER XII

CORNERED

Donaster had finished his dinner, and was deep in an evening paper in the smoking-room of the Fundy Hotel. So intent was he upon the article he was reading that he allowed his cigar to go out, a most unusual thing for him. But there was a reason, for he was reading a vivid account of the daring rescue which had been made early that morning on the brink of the falls. It occupied two pages of the paper, describing accurately and in detail all that had taken place. It told of the thunder storm up river, of the breaking loose of the "Eb and Flo," the run to the city, and the n.o.ble action of Eben Tobin, who would not desert his post of duty. Donaster breathed more freely when he found that his own name was not mentioned. The paper merely stated that two men had escaped by means of a motor-boat after they had been unable to induce the young commander to go with them. Much praise was given to the men on the tug for the great risk they had run in making the rescue. When he had read the article through for the second time, he laid the paper aside, re-lighted his cigar, and sat for some time in deep thought.

During the whole of this time Gabriel Grimsby had been sitting not far away watching Donaster most intently. He was much better dressed than on the evening he had presented himself before Mrs. Randall and demanded payment for his silence. His face still bore the placid expression of peace and contentment, while his eyes beamed their goodwill to all. Anyone observing his manner might have mistaken him for a visitant from another world, clothed in human fashion, and mingling for a time in the ways of men. Such was the outward appearance of Gabriel Grimsby, the stand-between.

After a while Donaster rose and made his way into the billiard-room at the rear of the building. He was an expert player, and soon was deeply engaged in his favourite game. Grimsby followed, and for a time stood and watched the game. Then he went back to the smoking-room, resumed his seat, and brought forth, a handful of papers from an inside pocket of his coat. Glancing furtively around to see if anyone was watching, he selected a newspaper clipping and read it through very carefully.

It told of the mysterious disappearance of Miss Jess Randall, the only daughter of Henry Randall, the noted lumber merchant. It was believed that she had drowned herself near the Randall's summer home along the river, and men were already searching for her body. Grimsby next referred to another article, written a day later, which told of the unsuccessful search for the body of the missing girl. A smile overspread his face as he read this, and he glanced toward the billiard-room. He evidently knew something which was giving him considerable satisfaction. He believed that Donaster would play for some time yet, so there was no hurry.

Slipping the newspaper clipping back into his pocket, Grimsby picked up three letters and read them through. His smile was more p.r.o.nounced, now, and the light of triumph gleamed in his eyes. He felt proud of himself, and his chest slightly expanded with the spirit of importance.

"Gabriel Grimsby," he said to himself, "you hold the trump-card all right this time. You may be of no account, but you know a thing or two, and it's up to you to make the most of your knowledge. But, h.e.l.lo! here comes the sucker."

Donaster left the hotel, and went at once to his lodging-place. It was only occasionally that he went to the Fundy for his meals, and this evening was one of them. He could not afford to go often, much as he would have liked to do so. He had to be careful until he had secured Jess Randall, and then he could indulge himself to his heart's content.

That he should eventually win her, he had not the slightest doubt. Her father and mother were on his side, so what could a girl do against such a strong combination. After this escapade she would, no doubt, be glad to return and obey their wish. Thus he reasoned as he sat alone in his room that night.

A knock sounded upon the door, and when it was opened Grimsby entered.

He greeted Donaster in a free and easy manner, and without waiting for an invitation, sat down and helped himself from a package of cigarettes lying upon the table. Donaster stared at him in amazement, for a minute dumbfounded by such unheard-of impudence. Then he rose to his feet, and angrily approached the visitor.

"Who are you?" he demanded, "and how dare you come here?"

Grimsby smiled, flicked the ashes from his cigarette, and waved his hand.

"Don't be afraid, sir; I won't hurt you. I'm as harmless as a dove."

"H'm, I have no fear of you. I want to know what you mean by your impudence in coming into my room unbidden?"

"Impudence! Impudence, do you say?" and Grimsby a.s.sumed a look of astonishment. "Why, I have a special right here. I don't need any invitation."

Donaster stared at the intruder, uncertain whether to cla.s.s him as a fool or a madman. Grimsby divined his thoughts and his eyes twinkled more than ever.

"Yes," he continued, "duty leads me into many places, and sometimes I receive rebuffs. But when a man has a great mission, such as mine is, he bears all things patiently. Patience is a great virtue, sir. It is worthy of cultivation."

"What in h---- are you driving at?" Donaster roared. "What has 'mission' and 'patience' to do with your visit here? If you don't explain at once I'll kick you out of the room or have you arrested."

"Go slow, young man, go slow." The smile pa.s.sed suddenly from Grimsby's face, and his eyes contracted. "I am here on business, special business, and it concerns you. Sit down, and I shall come to the point at once. There, now, keep cool, and do as I say. That's better," he added, when the angry man had reluctantly obeyed. He leaned over and looked Donaster full in the eyes.