Wings of the Wind Part 16

"Oh, that doesn't amount to a d.a.m.n," Tommy replied with supreme indifference, and for a moment I feared Monsieur was going to have a stroke of apoplexy. "Don't you see that we must possess proofs? And then we've got to board his yacht, don't we? Is he going to take a siesta while we stroll over the old tub? Your authority, gezabo, is a sc.r.a.p of paper unless, first, he's the man who kidnapped your princess, and second, we can lay our hands on him. Now try to think!"

"Think! There is nothing to think--only to do! You speak as a child! We must take that girl to her throne, to her rightful heritage! By every law of conscience, justice and humanity, there is nothing left for us to do! Absolutely we must obey!"

A silence fell upon Tommy and me. I saw him moisten his lips and dart the professor a quick glance. I knew how inherently strong that little fellow was in his loyalty, but had not been prepared for such an appeal as this. Conscience, humanity, justice! He was calling on my manhood to send her back to Azuria, out of my arms, out of my life. And she would go; I felt it, I knew it. I realized now that Tommy, in preambling up to this point, intended to settle it once and for all. And I realized how much farther his clear vision had penetrated the situation than my own poor addled mind.

Leaning forward, he said in the same soft voice--though Monsieur did not recognize the deadly purpose behind it:

"Professor, if you seriously want to see Azuria again I think we'd better arrange this thing, somehow. You came here to look for a princess; Jack came--pardon me, Jack, but it's unavoidable--for a sweetheart. Every man to his trade, you know!"

"Yes, and if I find Her Serene Highness I shall most certainly restore her to----"

"You'll most certainly do nothing of the kind," Tommy interrupted him.

"You see, old fellow, we couldn't trust her to you--it wouldn't be fair.

The fact is, you've been acting mighty queerly of late, saying all kinds of strange things!"

A puzzled look came into the professor's eyes as he glanced at me and then back at Tommy, who now leaned confidentially nearer.

"Do you realize," he soothingly continued, "that you thought someone was trying to blow up our yacht?"

"Trying to blow it up? Did I not have the bomb in my hands?"

"He still believes it, Jack," Tommy sighed. "There's nothing to be done, I reckon, but take him back to Key West. They've a pretty fair hospital there."

Monsieur's face turned so livid and looked so weird in its frame of straw-colored hair that I began to think all the hospitals on earth could not save him. Sputtering, he appealed to me:

"The truth, my boy Jack--he is cut-upping?"

But Tommy was saying:

"We're awfully sorry, you dear old manatou; we'll miss you, take my word for it."

"You boys dare do this," he sprang to his feet, too angry for further protest.

"Sit down, sir," Tommy spoke now in a different tone. "Of course, I don't believe it, nor does Jack; but others will if we take you to the Key West hospital tied up in ropes and say you've got that blowing-up bug in your bonnet. Get the point?"

"I get no points," he furiously pounded the table.

"Well, here it is, and its name is Compromise! Either compromise, or the wow-wow house. We won't force the issue; you must decide nicely, without being pressed one way or the other. But these are the facts: you're sailing on an American yacht; Jack's the owner, Gates is captain, I'm the boss. We're hoping to overhaul the _Orchid_, board her, capture the princess, and all that. Then for one entire week Jack's to have an uninterrupted tete-a-tete while you make yourself invisible. Come along if you want to and turn the old rascal over to your consul when we get home, plead with the princess after Jack's week is up, recover a hundred good bucks for your bad ones--but he has to have his chance first, and we sign articles of agreement _right now_!"

"Children," he cried, with a great show of disgust. "Should you return to Key West, how would you ever find the _Orchid_ again! Ah-ha, you have tripped yourselves!"

"Not on your life, we haven't. We'll keep on now and locate her hiding place, then deliver you to a guardian, and come back."

The professor thought a moment, breathing fast and blinking.

"What are those bucks you spoke about?" he asked.

"Bucks? h.e.l.l, man, they're beans, bones--the things you won at roulette!"

"I won no such things at roulette," he gravely shook his head, adding slowly: "So I must agree, eh? _Tres-bien!_ Yet I warn you that she will go back with me in spite of all my boy Jack can say in a week, or a year. It is inevitable--she can not possibly disobey! Come! You win for the moment, so we will drink, standing together for Azuria!"

"Standing for your grandmother," Tommy laughed. "No, you jolly old filbert, we stand for Jack and Sylvia, and don't you forget it! We'll use your vaunted authority, too, when the time comes to make that scoundrel surrender. Now let's get our a.r.s.enal in shape!"

Monsieur approved of this, entering into it with a boyish spirit, and for a long time we went over rifles and automatics, showing him their virtues, explaining the accuracy of their range, occasionally throwing one up to the shoulder and taking a quick aim over the sights, as fellows will who find them good companions.

"I'll lay you odds, Professor, that the barrels of some of this hardware get hot before night," Tommy said.

"Ah, I will not bet on such b.l.o.o.d.y business. You think we fight today?"

"Two to one on it," he answered; then giving my shoulder a slap that felt like the kick of a mule, he cried:

"So romance and adventure died with the war, did they? Oh, _baby_, what a shame!"

CHAPTER IX

A SHOT FROM THE DARK

During the first few hours of the afternoon we had looked on deck several times, but felt better satisfied to remain below, out of the drizzle. Now the captain's big voice rumbled some kind of good news, and each of us made a dash for the stairs.

Even as we piled out into the c.o.c.kpit the mate gave a yell and sailors sprang to haul down the topmast-and main-topmast-staysails. Off in the southwest, which had been leaden from horizon to meridian showing no distinction of water and sky, appeared a spot of light, a glow, growing rapidly brighter. Before it the misty rain was being wiped as if by magic from the air.

Looking toward the northward I beheld the other yacht standing out in bold relief upon a blacker, more dismal background. She was beautiful at that moment--her sides and sails unnaturally whitened against the gloom, suggesting a cameo set on a piece of slate. Our blocks began to creak, sails bulged into huge scoops, masts tilted majestically, and the _Whim_, freed from her enforced idleness, bounded in response.

"Wind!" Tommy shouted, his arms held skyward. "Aphrodite, sweet and mighty, send a gale before the nighty!"

"But," Monsieur looked at him reprovingly, "Aphrodite is not G.o.ddess of the wind!"

"Who said she was?" he innocently asked.

"You conjure her for the gale--bah!"

"That's because she rhymes with nighty, gezabo! When my Muse sings, to h.e.l.l with mythology! Come join the clouds--you're sordid!"

"These have been sordid clouds," the little fellow laughed. "I would rather join you in other, but a more genial, wet."

"Gates, how long before we catch her?" I called.

"I carn't measure her speed yet, sir, but should say we won't be far behind in an hour and a harf."

"Then," Tommy announced, "we'll go below and drink to the safety of our sweet Princess--for, unless I'm greatly mistaken, this day will see the finish of one good yacht! Give over the wheel and join us, Captain!"

It was a hilarious four that touched gla.s.ses in the cabin, and after Gates went above we set to work in good earnest on our arms and cartridge belts. Having seen that each piece worked perfectly we followed him up, and the sight which greeted our eyes made us laugh for joy.

How we accomplished it only Gates could have told, but now in the late afternoon light the _Orchid_ seemed to be less than half her former distance. Looking over the rail at the flying water I felt a great pride in my father's craft, for she fairly skimmed along. Monsieur began at once to hug the captain, and this time the old skipper did not mind--at least, he permitted it.