Wings of the Wind Part 19

Never having heard of such a silly idea I looked at Gates, who was chuckling.

"Oh, it might be done, sir," he laughed, "if she stood close enough to the islands. We might jockey her that way, foul her a bit, and make her go aground--or fight. But, Lor' bless you, she's sailing straight west across the Gulf, with nothing but a thousand miles of good water between her and the mouth of the Rio Grande!"

"Get in front--b.u.t.t her around," Monsieur cried. "If she does not like it, then let her, as you suggest, fight!"

"Well, you've said something at last," Tommy grinned. "How about it, Gates? And, by the way, what are those islands you spoke of? We're looking for a certain

'----one of many, many islands Set like emerald jewels in an ever changing sea.'"

Though with his sincerity there was also the bantering tone of the unbeliever here.

"It's the Ponce de Leon Bay, sir, with the Ten Thousand Islands--and I'd say there're all of ten thousand, or quite harf, anyway."

With his fork he quickly drew on the tablecloth a sketch of southwestern Florida, outlining the waters northeast of Cape Sable and with little jabs indicating the island area which extends up and down the coast, as well as into Whitewater Bay. Gates was used to doing this kind of thing and he did it well, with the result that we got a very clear idea of what he meant. No one knew the exact number of islands, he said, because they had never been charted. Government surveys had been considered useless, in all probability; and, of private interests, there were none.

No boat, except perhaps at rare intervals a very small craft of adventurous spirit, ever tried to enter--but, as to that, twenty small boats might spend a month's playing in that maze and never meet. The mainland, for many miles in all directions, was without habitation, and these conditions had isolated this entire section as completely as though it were in the heart of a South American jungle.

Difficult as it was to believe that on the "Playground Peninsula" of eastern United States an unsurveyed primeval wilderness of perhaps three thousand square miles had remained absolutely detached from inquisitive civilization, I was soon to learn that Gates had not in any way exaggerated. It was there; it is there today in the same unbroken solitude, for any to see who will.

"Why didn't she duck in there and hide last night?" I asked, coming out of the charmed spell his description had cast over me.

"She daren't, sir. Nothing but a dinghy, or the like of that, has ever gone in very far. Leastwise, I don't think so. The islands are just a lot of oyster-sh.e.l.l bars covered with sand and overgrown with red mangrove trees. I've been told the channel between 'em sometimes isn't more'n a foot deep; but in other places there may be good water. What I mean to say is that they're not charted, and I doubt if any man living could find his way through 'em the same way twice. They lay in a bunch stretching about forty miles north and south, and maybe fifteen or twenty through. Some are good sized--we'll say a mile long--but others run down to the size of the _Whim_. Oh, he wouldn't dare to run in there, sir! Now we might try to tease him close to 'em and crowd him some way, as the professor says--or let him do the other thing!"

"That sounds like some plan," Tommy sprang to his feet. "We'll tease him, all right, if we shoot fast enough!"

"But they must be let to begin that shooting first," Monsieur insisted.

"I'd like to know why?" Tommy turned to him.

"Why? What right have we to come and start such a business?"

"What right have we to crowd her out of the ocean?" Tommy answered with another question. "What right have they to blow us up?--or steal a girl?--or counterfeit our money?--or darn near shoot my finger off and then laugh at me? To h.e.l.l with rights! We've got more than that scoundrel has, if we haven't any!"

Gates got up with an oath.

"Yes," he said, "and shoot out my searchlight! No, Professor, I'd say the shooting's already begun. But they won't stand for too much fooling, not if I know anything!"

"Oh, well," Monsieur sighed, "give me the gun."

"Give him Miss Nancy," Tommy laughed. "Now, fellows, suppose a couple of us entrench on top of the cabin, to get the advantage of alt.i.tude--the superiority of position, as it were--and command their decks!"

"You'll need a fair protection, sir, as they'll be shooting from the portholes," Gates said. "And we carn't fire back at the portholes because of the lady!"

"Righto! But the man at their wheel's our meat, and anyone else who comes to take his place. Minus a steersman they're helpless; and then, Gates, if we can run alongside and batten down (is that what you call it?) their hatches, they're ours."

"Suppose they send the Princess out, herself, to steer?" Monsieur asked.

The suggestion gave me a turn.

"Still, they may not think of that," he continued, "and our two shooters may command their decks quite easily. It is good. If a man comes out to steer you will shoot him till he runs downstairs again, then we go aboard and sail home. Yes, it is a good plan."

"Shoot him till he runs downstairs!" Tommy gasped. "What d'you think we're going to do--just spank him with lead?"

"I'll say that professor is in a clarss by himself, sir," Gates turned to me, chuckling.

The next half hour was a busy one. Our sailors, singing with happiness, brought up from the cuddy rolls of extra sails that were lowered overboard for a good wetting, then mauled into a neat rifle pit on the cabin roof--as snug as I'd want anywhere, and quite able to stop high-power bullets. Gates then showed another bit of generalship that called anew for Monsieur's nods of approval. Since our own helmsman would be as much exposed as the man on the _Orchid_--whom we intended to "shoot until he ran downstairs"--the mate brought up some line, bent it several times around the wheel drum, pa.s.sed it through newly fastened blocks, and let it run into the c.o.c.kpit. By this arrangement he could lie on the floor, as safe as you please, and steer according to orders sung up by the old skipper who, stationed below with a shaving mirror--suggesting a trench periscope--would take his bearings without showing any portion of his face. It was a nice piece of work.

"One carn't be too cautious, sir," he explained. "Harf our chance of coming out ahead is being ready beforehand, and harf our satisfaction is to keep from having any burials at sea--which are gruesome things, any way you take 'em, sir."

Bilkins had acted as armorer and laid out rifles, bandoliers bulging with filled clips, and a few automatic revolvers; then in a low tone he said to me:

"I'll never go back, sir, if anything happens to you today."

"Yes, you will," I replied, touched by his show of devotion. "You'll have to tell them why it happened. But don't be a raincrow. We'll come through."

Gates now sent the men to stations for we were within a half a mile of the _Orchid_. Then Tommy stepped into our rifle pit and laid down. I followed. Quietly each of us beat a crease in the soaked canvas through which we could fire without showing too much head.

The mate, crouched below, tried his new steering device as Gates sang up an order, and swore a jovial oath at the ease with which the _Whim_ responded. Within his reach was an automatic, and he looked the very picture of contentment.

Along the side of my rifle barrel now resting in the crease I took a good look at the _Orchid_ sailing with apparent unconcern but a short way out from us, but I could picture the activity and hatred seething below her deck. I wondered what Sylvia might be thinking about all this; if she a.s.sociated our pursuit by the slightest imaginative thread with a fellow who impolitely stared at her in a Havana cafe, yet to whom she had been willing to cry: "I am in danger!" Presumptuous fallacy! Then other thoughts began to race through my brain. Now that we were face to face with action, how were we going to come out? Had I a right to imperil those who were sailing with me? Was it not my duty, even at this eleventh hour, to order the _Whim_ back?

I turned to Tommy, saying:

"You didn't ship for this kind of thing, old man. If anything happens to you I'll feel like the devil."

"So'll I," he grinned. "Don't bother about how you'll feel if anything happens to _me_; keep those regrets for the moment a hot pill investigates your own honorable insides, Mr. Jacka.s.s! I wouldn't miss this party for a million dollar bill. Settle down, now. Gates is pointing closer." Then, peeping along his rifle, he crooned one of our regimental paraphrases: "Stick your head up, Fritzy-Fritz, while I plug you in the gizzard," adding: "I don't see anyone at their wheel!"

I took another squint and, just as he had said, their deck was deserted--not a man in sight.

"What d'you make of it?" I asked.

"Get down," he warned. "Don't forget that anyone who could center our searchlight, as some crafty boy did last night, won't have much trouble peeling a scalp at three hundred yards! They've probably made a steering rig like ours, that's all. The first thing we know bally h.e.l.l will spit out of those portholes, if my guess counts! Beats a trench raid, doesn't it, old man?"

"All hollow," I agreed. "We've got 'em this trip!"

"We have unless they carry a ten-pounder--in which case we'll take a bath. Freeze close, buddie!"

Nearer and nearer we drew, but no bally h.e.l.l came from her. She showed absolutely no sign of anyone, not even a pile of canvas or a box that might hide a sharp-shooter. That, then, was the old counterfeiter's ruse: to tempt us into taking the initiative when, more than likely, he was ready with the probable ten-pounder to sink us. Still, it felt rather snug to be lying there elbow to elbow with Tommy.

Gates had steered so close by this time that any skipper on the other yacht, not endowed with stupendous nerve, would certainly have gone about; for we had maneuvered to get the right of way, and a collision would have been entirely the _Orchid's_ fault. But no one ran out, nor did her course change, and at the very last minute Gates called an order that brought us off a few points.

We were now sailing parallel, not more than ten fathoms apart, and could have thrown a biscuit on her deck. I glanced out the corner of my eye at Tommy. His cheek rested snugly against the stock of his rifle and his finger stroked the trigger, I thought affectionately.

Had either of us been more conversant with nautical matters we would have noticed something that Gates now came crawling up to tell us. He did this without being much exposed, by creeping along until abreast of us and then projecting himself, headfirst or any other way, into our midst. It was an active accomplishment for one of Gates's years.

"D'you see what they've done?" he excitedly asked. "That wheel, there, is lashed over; they've paid out the mains'l enough to starboard, and set the jib properly to port. That's why the fores'l isn't up!"

"What of it?"

"Why, sir, she'll sail that way all day in a wind like this, and n.o.body have to touch her! They knew we'd be popping at their helmsman, and they fixed it so we carn't! Now it's our turn to start something!"