Up The Baltic Part 50

Lowington at Copenhagen, that he had found all the absentees, and asked for instructions.

"Here's a go, and the game is up," said Sanford, in a whisper, when he met Stockwell alone.

"That's so; what will he do with us?"

"I don't know; I rather like this mode of travelling. But we are caught now."

"Perhaps not; we may find some way out of it. According to Blaine's cue we are to be regarded as runaways. If that is the case, I don't join the ship this summer," said Stockwell, very decidedly.

"Nor I either," added Sanford.

Before dark, Mr. Blaine received a despatch from the princ.i.p.al, directing him to take the next train to Malmo, which is the town in Sweden opposite Copenhagen. The head steward did not communicate its contents to his charge that night, but he called all of them at four o'clock the next morning, and by good management on his part, they were on the train which left Stockholm at six o'clock. At Katherineholm, where the party ate an excellent breakfast, Mr. Blaine unhappily missed three of his company.

CHAPTER XVIII.

UP THE BALTIC.

The excursionists of the squadron slept soundly after their trip to Elsinore, and Clyde Blacklock, true to the promise he had made to himself, kept awake to watch his chances to escape. Not a sound was to be heard in the ship, and the intense silence was even more trying to the prisoner in the brig than the noise and bustle of the whole crew when awake. Ryder, the fourth lieutenant, and two seamen had the anchor watch on deck. Each officer served two hours, and was required at the stroke of the bell, every half hour, to walk through the steerage, where no light was permitted after nine o'clock.

Clyde took the saw from its hiding-place under the stairs, and commenced work on one of the slats. The instrument was very sharp, but the noise it made promised to betray him, and he was obliged to use it with extreme caution. Bracing the slat with one shoulder, he worked the saw very slowly, so that the wood should not vibrate. The process was very slow, and twice he was obliged to conceal his saw and lie down on the bed at the approach of the officer of the watch. After working more than an hour, he succeeded in cutting off one of the slats, just far enough above the deck to avoid the nails with which it was secured. But it was fastened at the top as well as at the bottom, and when he pulled it in to wrench it from its position, it creaked horribly, and he was obliged to labor with it another half hour, before he could pull it in far enough to permit his exit. In the middle of the operation he was obliged to restore it partly to its position, and lie down again, to escape the observation of the officer of the anchor watch.

His care and patience were finally successful, though, if the sleepers around him had not been very tired, some of them must have been disturbed even by the little noise he made. The removal of the single slat gave him an opening of about nine inches, which was narrow even for him; but he contrived to work himself through it. Putting the slat back into its original position, and wedging it down with a copper, so that the means of his escape might not readily be seen, he crept carefully forward to the ladder under the forecastle, where he paused to consider the means by which he should escape from the vessel. He began to realize that this was a more difficult matter than getting out of the brig. He knew that the anchor watch consisted of an officer and two seamen.

While he was thinking of the matter, eight bells struck; and he was aware that the watch was changed at this hour. Retiring to the kitchen to wait for a more favorable moment, he heard the two seamen come down the ladder to call the relief. As they entered one of the mess-rooms, he ran up the ladder, and concealed himself under the top-gallant forecastle. In a few moments he heard the relief on deck, and from his hiding-place saw the officer on the quarter-deck with a lantern in his hand. The two seamen took their places on the top-gallant forecastle, where they could see the entire deck, and any boat or vessel that approached the ship.

Clyde did not regard the situation as very hopeful. The night was chilly, and he did not feel at all inclined to swim ash.o.r.e, which he had intended to do, as a last resort. The boats were all hoisted up at the davits, as if to provide for just such cases as his own. He listened with interest to the conversation of the watch above him; but he could not identify their voices, and was unable to determine whether it was safe for him to address them. In fact he was unable to determine upon anything, and bell after bell struck without finding him any better prepared to make a move. At four bells, or two o'clock in the morning, the watch was relieved again, and Clyde remained in the same unsettled state of mind. But when the two seamen went below to call the relief, he changed his position, crawling into the waist, where he disposed himself under the lee of the rail. Over his head was the fourth cutter, one of the smallest of the boats.

Clyde could see the dark form of the officer walking to and fro on the quarter-deck, and his presence was not favorable to any movement. He found the cleats where the falls of the boat were made fast, and he was considering the practicability of casting them off, letting the cutter drop into the water, and then sliding down on a rope. The officer of the anchor watch seemed to be the only obstacle in his way.

He began to experiment with the falls. Casting off one of them, he carefully let the rope slip over the cleat till he had lowered the bow of the cutter about two feet. He repeated the operation upon the stern fall. He let off the rope so gradually that the noise did not attract the attention of any of the watch.

Five bells struck, and the officer descended to the steerage. While he was absent, Clyde dropped each end of the boat about four feet more, and then coiled himself away until the officer had returned to his station. But it was nearly daylight, and he was compelled to hurry on with his work. Little by little he let out the falls, till the fourth cutter floated in the water. When the officer went below, at six bells, he climbed upon the rail, and slid down on the bow fall into the boat. Casting off the falls, he pushed the cutter astern of the ship, and for the first time began to feel as though he were free. He was afraid to use an oar, lest the noise should attract the attention of the watch on deck. He felt that he had managed his escape with exceeding cleverness, and was unwilling to risk anything now in the moment of success. The wind carried the boat clear of the ship, and he lay down in the stern sheets, so that if the officer on the quarter-deck discovered the cutter, he might suppose no one was in her.

He had occupied this position but a moment before he heard a rushing noise near him, and, raising his head, discovered a small schooner, under full sail, headed directly upon him. He had hardly time to stand up before the bow of the vessel was within his reach.

"Hallo!" shouted he, in terror, for the thought of being carried under the keel of the schooner was appalling.

But the cutter was crowded aside by the vessel, and Clyde sprang upon her deck, while his boat went astern of her.

Too late, the schooner luffed up, and Clyde seated himself on the rail to catch his breath. Two men came to him, and spoke in Norwegian.

"I speak English," replied Clyde.

"You are English?" said the captain.

"Yes; I don't speak anything else."

"I speak English," replied the skipper, as he went back to the helm, and Clyde followed him.

"Where are you bound?" asked the runaway.

"To Stockholm."

"You are Danish, I suppose."

"No, Norwegian."

"All the same."

"What shall I do with you?"

"I will go to Stockholm with you, and pay my pa.s.sage, if you like,"

added Clyde, who wished to get as far as possible from the ship.

"You shall, if you like; or you shall work, if you please. I lose a young sailor, and I want another, to work in his place."

"No; I will go as a pa.s.senger, or not at all," replied Clyde, very decidedly.

"What you do in a boat so late in the night?" asked the skipper.

"I was going on sh.o.r.e to find a steamer for Stockholm. I will pay you twenty species for my pa.s.sage," added the runaway.

"You are very kind to pay so much. You shall have my berth; but it will be long time to Stockholm in my vessel."

"No matter; I am satisfied."

"I shall pick up the boat you lose?"

"No; never mind the boat," answered Clyde, impatiently, as he glanced at the ship.

The captain questioned him about the boat more particularly; but the fugitive gave such answers as he pleased. Though the skipper was very rough and savage to the two men who formed his crew, he treated his pa.s.senger at first with much consideration. The little cabin of the schooner was a nasty hole, and if Clyde had not been very sleepy, he could hardly have closed his eyes there; but before the vessel was out of sight of Copenhagen, his slumber was deep and heavy.

The shout of the fugitive when he was in danger of being run down had been heard by the officer on the quarter-deck of the Young America. He saw the collision, and discovered the cutter when it went astern of the vessel; but he did not suspect that it belonged to the ship. The schooner filled away on her course again, after she had luffed up, and the boat was adrift. He deemed it his duty to secure it before it was stove by some early steamer from Malmo, or elsewhere, and calling the two seamen, he directed them to lower the fourth cutter. But the fourth cutter was already lowered, and the officer began to think that the boat adrift was the missing one. The third cutter, therefore, was used, and when the two seamen had pulled off in her, the officer went below and called Peaks.

The boatswain took his lantern, and went to the brig, as soon as he was told that the fourth cutter was adrift. The bird had flown. The door was secure, and all the slats were apparently in their place; but the appearance of a small quant.i.ty of saw-dust indicated where the breach had been made. A little pressure forced in the sawn slat, and Peaks understood why the prisoner had only desired to be left alone.

"Were you all asleep on deck?" asked Peaks of the officer.

"No, sir; I have not been asleep on duty," replied Beckwith, the officer.

"Didn't you see him lower the boat?"

"Of course I did not."

"I don't see how it was done, then," added Peaks. "But where is the prisoner?"