No Moss Part 7

"You can thank me for it," said Sam.

"An' me, too," chimed in Xury. "I was the one who found the ax in the cellar an' studied up the plan the governor carried out."

"I guess I had oughter have a little of the praise," observed Friday.

"It aint every feller who would have stood there an' cut down that door with all them women hollerin' at him."

"We've all done well," said the chief, "all except Will Atkins an' Jack Spaniard, an' they are cowards an' traitors."

The Crusoe men were gathered on the bluff at the head of the path, sweating and panting, and congratulating themselves on the success of their undertaking. The governor, especially, regarded it as something well worth boasting of, and he was in excellent spirits. His society, although it had thus far failed to accomplish the object for which it was organized, had already made for itself a brilliant record. It had performed an exploit in the village that would be talked about and wondered at as long as the military academy should stand, or the present generation of boys exist. Its members, acting under his instructions, had overpowered three times their number of students, captured their vessel, and would certainly have got out to sea with her but for the treachery of Tom Newcombe. But, great as was this achievement, it sank into insignificance when compared with the one they had just performed.

The chief had succeeded in releasing the prisoners confined in the farm-house, and that, too, with the a.s.sistance of only one companion, and in the face of a mutiny that had, at one time, bid fair to break up the Crusoe band. The governor a.s.sumed the lion's share of the honor of this exploit, and, as he thought, with good reason, for he had run all the risk. He had led the men away from the house, and given Friday a chance to cut down the door. His affairs had looked desperate a little while before, but by his skill and determination he had succeeded in bringing some order out of the confusion, and the only thing that remained to be done was to punish the traitors, which was a matter he could attend to at his leisure. He believed that the rebellion had already died out, and that, when he descended into the cove, he would find the mutineers ready to accept any terms he might see fit to offer them.

"What's become of Atkins and Jack Spaniard?" asked Tom, who seemed, for the first time, to notice the absence of those worthies. "I don't see them anywhere."

"Didn't I say that they were traitors and cowards?" replied the governor. "Listen, now, an' I'll tell you all about it."

Sam then proceeded to give Tom and his mate a glowing description of the mutiny, and, during the course of his narration, he artfully aroused their indignation by dwelling upon the meanness and cowardice displayed by Atkins and Jack Spaniard in deserting the band at the very time their services were most needed, to a.s.sist in releasing the prisoners, and wound up by telling how he had secured possession of the rope and pulled down the limb, thus cutting off all chance of escape for the mutineers.

Tom and Xury were highly enraged, especially the former, who denounced the faithless Crusoe men in the strongest terms. He also took occasion to impress his auditors with the fact that the society could not long exist without the hearty co-operation of all its members, and that no punishment was too severe for one who could refuse to hasten to the relief of a comrade in distress. Tom made a long speech on this subject, emphasizing his remarks by shaking his fists in the air, and stamping his feet on the ground, and all the while forgetting that, when questioned by the farmer in the house, he had been on the point of committing the very sin he was so loudly condemning. Xury remembered the circ.u.mstance, but he did not think it worth speaking about.

"I 'spose that, bein' an officer, I have a right to say something, haint I?" asked the mate, when Tom had finished his speech. "Well, I just want to tell you how I think them two fellers can be made to listen to reason. That farmer said he was goin' to take us over to the village in the mornin' an' have us put in--what kind of a house did he say that was, cap'n?"

"The House of Refuge," replied Tom.

"Yes, that's it. He said he was goin' to put us in that house fur three or four years, an' that it would be the best place in the world fur us.

Now, can't we scare them two mutineers by tellin' 'em that if they don't do what's right we will give 'em up to the farmer, an' let him take 'em before the 'squire? That will bring 'em to terms, if any thing will."

"But how can we give 'em up to the farmer without bein' ketched ourselves?" asked Sam.

"We can tie 'em hand an' foot, an' take 'em up to the house some night an' leave 'em on the porch, can't we? But, of course, we don't want to do it, governor, 'cause we can't get along without 'em. We only want to make them behave themselves like men had oughter do."

"Mebbe it would be well to have a hold of some kind on 'em," said the chief, after thinking the matter over, "'cause they're s.p.u.n.ky fellers, an' can't be easy scared. But, after all, I aint afraid to say that they've come to their senses before this time. Let's go down and see 'em."

The governor once more lighted his lantern, and, after shouldering a bag of potatoes, which he had found as he came through the field, and which had doubtless been overlooked by the farmer, he led the way down the cliff to the chasm, where he stopped, astonished at the scene presented to his view. It was evident, from the appearance of things, that Atkins and Jack Spainard were very far from being the humble, penitent fellows the governor had hoped to find them. They had discovered the trick that had been played upon them, and, being resolved that, if they could not get out of the cove, the governor should not come into it, they had fortified their side of the chasm by erecting a breastwork of bushes across the path. A fire burned brightly behind the breastwork, and beside it stood the two mutineers, engaged in stripping the branches from a couple of small trees they had just cut down. They ceased their work when they heard the chief and his men approaching, and, taking up their positions behind the breastwork, looked across the chasm at them as if waiting to hear what they had to say.

"Well, if there aint the cap'n an' Xury!" exclaimed Jack Spaniard, who seemed greatly astonished to see the governor thus re-enforced. "How did you get away?"

"Me an' Friday helped 'em, no thanks to you two cowards an' traitors,"

replied Sam, angrily. "What's the meanin' of all this yere?" he added, surveying the war-like preparations with some uneasiness.

"It means just this, governor," replied Atkins; "we know what you are up to, an' we aint goin' to stand no more nonsense. We're goin' to fight it out."

"Then you haven't made up your minds to do duty, an' behave yourselves?"

"No, we haint. We've got our share of the outfit, an' we're goin' home.

We aint goin' to be servants fur n.o.body."

"I reckon you won't go home in a hurry. We have got you fastened up in there, an' we can starve you to death if we feel like it."

"You'll have a nice time doin' it, seein' that all the grub is on our side of the gully," said Jack Spaniard, with a laugh. "But you haint got us fastened up so tight as you think fur. Do you see these poles?" he added, lifting the sapling upon which he had been at work when the governor came in sight; "well, when we get the branches all off, we're goin' to make a bridge with 'em."

"Not much you aint; we've got something to say about that. Now, I'll give you five minutes to make up your minds whether or not you will come back into the band, an' behave yourselves like men had oughter do, or be delivered up to that farmer, who will take you before 'Squire Thompson, an' have you put in jail fur robbin' his potato-patch. Let's hear from you. I am listenin' with all the ears I've got."

The actions of the two mutineers afforded abundant proof that Xury knew their weak side when he suggested that the chief should threaten them with the law. The name of 'Squire Thompson was a terror to evil-doers about the village, and Atkins and his companion were very much afraid of him. They looked at each other, doubtfully, and held a council of war; while Sam employed the interval in consulting with his men, and trying to decide upon some plan to capture the mutineers, should the result of their consultation be unfavorable to him.

"We aint comin' back into the band," said Atkins, at length, "an' we aint goin' to the village as prisoners, neither. We're goin' to fight it out."

"All right," replied the governor, indifferently. "If you remember what the book says, you know that Will Atkins never made any thing by kicking up a fuss on Robinson's island, an' you will come out of the little end of the horn, just as he did. Look out for yourselves over there, now.

Come with me, fellers."

The governor and his men moved up the cliffs, until a bend in the path concealed them from the view of the mutineers. They were gone so long that Atkins and his companion began to wonder what had become of them; but at the end of a quarter of an hour, Sam had completed his arrangements for an attack upon the stronghold of the rebels, and presently Friday appeared with a rope tied around his waist, and began to ascend a tree that leaned over the chasm.

"Hold on, there!" exclaimed Atkins, suddenly starting up from behind the breastwork. "You think you're smart, an' mebbe you are; but you can't put that bridge up under our very eyes. We've got a whole pile of rocks here, an' if you don't come down out of that tree to onct, we'll fire on you. Jerusalem! What's that?"

Just as the mutineer had finished threatening Friday, something whizzed through the air in unpleasant proximity to his head. It was a potato, thrown by the dextrous hand of the chief, and was followed by more missiles of the same sort, which whistled over the breastwork in a continuous shower. Atkins dropped like a flash, and picking up a stone in each hand, cautiously raised his head to look for the enemy; but the instant the crown of his hat appeared above the breastwork, it became a mark for the watchful Crusoe men, who sent the potatoes about his ears so thick and fast that Atkins was glad to drop down again.

"Keep your eyes open, men," cried the governor, "an' fire at the first one who dares to show himself. Atkins, when you get ready to surrender, just sing out. That's all you've got to do."

The mutineers were as fairly captured as if they had been bound hand and foot. They could neither retreat nor defend themselves. A cracking and rustling among the branches above, told them that Friday was engaged in putting up the bridge; and they knew that unless they could dislodge him they would soon be at closer quarters with the enemy.

"I'll give you just a half a minute to get down out of that tree,"

exclaimed Atkins.

"We don't want to hurt you, but we aint goin' to let you put up that bridge," said Jack Spaniard.

The rustling among the branches ceased for a moment, and Friday peeped through the leaves at the mutineers, both of whom were lying flat on their backs behind the breastwork. Seeing at a glance that he had nothing to fear from them, he went on with his work.

Atkins and his companion, finding that threats were unavailing, began to bestir themselves. They made loop-holes through the breastwork, but could not see their besiegers. Sam had posted his men on the cliff, outside the circle of light made by the fire, and consequently they were invisible to the mutineers; while the latter had built their fort in the full glare of the fire-light, and every move they made could be distinctly seen. They could not even use the loop-holes after they made them; for the governor and his men were always on the watch, and threw their potatoes so swiftly and accurately that the rebels were obliged to keep themselves well sheltered. Friday was still busy among the branches of the tree, and, when he had finished the work of putting up the bridge, he also opened fire. His shot was followed by another shower from the men posted on the cliff, who expended their ammunition without stint, sending the potatoes over and around the breastwork so thickly, that Atkins and his companion were once more obliged to throw themselves flat upon the ground to escape being hit. Suddenly the firing ceased, and a dark object came flying over the chasm into the fort. It was the governor, who, the moment he landed on his feet, began operations by pouncing upon the mutineers, throwing an arm around the neck of each, and holding them fast. How much he could have done toward conquering them it is hard to tell. The rebels were both determined fellows, and when they had sufficiently recovered from their astonishment to see that Sam was alone, they began to struggle furiously. But help for the governor was near. When he let go the rope it swung back into the hands of Xury, who was waiting to receive it, and he, too, came sailing over the breastwork, and dropped down upon Jack Spaniard, who had succeeded in freeing himself from the chief's grasp, and was rising to his feet.

Tom Newcombe followed close behind, and Friday brought up the rear. They came, one after the other, as rapidly as the rope could swing back and forth; and the rebels, finding themselves overpowered, began to beg for quarter.

"Avast, there!" cried Sam, and Friday's uplifted hand sank harmlessly to his side, instead of falling upon the unprotected face of the chief mutineer. "Let 'em up. I'll answer for their good behavior now."

The rebels were quite as much astonished at the governor's clemency as were the other members of the band. They arose slowly to their feet, and gazed about them with a bewildered, suspicious air, as if half expecting to receive a kick or blow from some unlooked-for source. Atkins, in particular, scarcely knew what to make of it. He surveyed the chief from head to foot, as if he were hardly prepared to believe that he was the same old ruler of the Crusoe band who had taught him so many lessons of obedience at their cave in the village. Sam stood for a few moments enjoying his surprise, when he suddenly became aware that Atkins's eyes were not fastened upon him, but that they appeared to be looking through him, at something on the other side of the chasm. A feeling of uneasiness crept over the chief, for he saw that the expression on the face of his man was changing from astonishment to alarm. "What is it?"

he whispered, not daring to look around.

Atkins, in reply, slowly raised his hand until it was on a level with his shoulder, and pointed toward the bluff across the gully; and, at the same instant, the governor nearly jumped from the ground when he heard an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n that had become familiar to him that night--

"Well, I swan!"

He faced about quickly, and caught just one glimpse of a dark figure which was gliding swiftly and noiselessly up the path. All the Crusoe men saw it, and they were so astonished and dismayed by the unlooked-for interruption, that, for a moment, none of them could speak.

Tom Newcombe was the first to recover the use of his tongue. "O, now, we're caught, easy enough," he drawled. "This kills the expedition, and we might as well surrender ourselves prisoners at once. I always was the unluckiest boy in the whole world."

Just at that moment Sam Barton was of the same opinion regarding himself. His exultation at the victory he had gained over the rebels, gave way to a feeling of intense excitement and alarm. His under jaw dropped down, and he stood looking across the chasm toward the place where the spy had disappeared, as if he had suddenly been deprived of the power of action. It was no wonder that he was alarmed. His hiding-place had been discovered, and, of course, that ruined everything.

"Jerusalem!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Will Atkins, who, now that his mutiny had been brought to an end, was quite willing to swear allegiance to the Crusoe band once more. "Did you see him, governor?"

"Well, I swan!" exclaimed Sam, unconsciously repeating the words the spy had used. "Did I see him? Have I got a pair of eyes? We're in a fix now, fellers. That ar' chap is another Bobby Jennings, an' if he gets away he'll ruin us, sure an' sartin." As the governor uttered these words they seemed to suggest a plan of operations. "Foller him up, lads," he exclaimed, excitedly. "Foller him up!"

"O, now, how do we know that he is alone?" drawled Tom. "Perhaps the farmer and all his men are with him."