Chapter XXXVII: Tom’s Final “find” 360 (5)

“The wind bloweth where it listeth, you know,” Cal answered; “and worse still, it doesn’t blow at all unless it is doing a little ‘listing’; the tides are subservient to the will of the sun and moon, and we must reckon upon them as a frequently opposing force; then too, there are fogs sometimes, as recent experience has taught us, to say nothing of possible encounters with smugglers, from which we may not escape so easily next time as we did before. How, then, shall I presume to set a time for our arrival at Quasi, particularly when I do not know how long we shall be detained at Beaufort.”

“Oh, not long,” broke in Larry. “We have nothing to do there but report to the customs authorities and spend an hour or so buying coffee, ship biscuit, some hams—for we’re out of bacon—and such other supplies of a non-perishable sort as we need. Two hours ought to cover our stay there.”

“Well, I’m not so certain of that,” said Cal. “As likely as not our detention will last for two days, or possibly two weeks, and if—”

“But how, Cal?” Tom interrupted with a look almost of consternation on his face, for he, too, was impatient to reach Quasi and try the hunting there.

“Let Cal finish, Tom,” said Larry. “He has something in mind.”

“Something on my mind,” Cal replied; “and it weighs heavily too. I’ve been thinking of it ever since we turned our prow toward Beaufort.”

“You must have thought it out by this time, then; so go on and tell us about it,” said Dick, impatiently.

“I wonder the rest of you haven’t thought of it for yourselves,” resumed Cal; “but it isn’t worth while to speculate about that. I was going to say that we four fellows have the misfortune to be eye-witnesses in the case of those smugglers. We saw them bring their goods ashore. Now I don’t know what the revenue officers do with smugglers when they catch them. I suppose they take them to a United States Court somewhere, though where I don’t know. Charleston is the most likely place in the case of men caught along this coast. In any case I suppose they need witnesses to testify to the smuggling, and unfortunately we are the witnesses in this case. Is it really necessary to set the matter forth more fully? It all comes to this, that we may be detained for an indefinite length of time at Beaufort, or we may even be taken back to Charleston as witnesses. For that reason I am reluctant to go to Beaufort at all—at least until we’ve had our trip out.”

“You’re quite right, Cal,” answered Dick; “it would be a shame to have our jolly outing spoiled. As for supplies, I suppose we might run down to Bluffton and pick up the absolutely necessary things—”

“Yes, or we can do without them,” interposed Tom, to whom every hour of their sporting trip seemed a precious thing not to be lost on any account.

“Oh, yes, we could get them by going a little out of our way,” said Cal, “or we could go without. I spent two or three months alone down among these woods and waters without such things, and I can’t remember that I was the worse for it—though I confess my breeches and my shirt and shoes suffered. Anyhow, Larry is our captain this time, and he must decide. He hasn’t spoken a word yet.”

“It has not seemed necessary,” Larry answered. “Of course we shall go to Beaufort just as fast as we can.”

“But why, Larry?” asked Tom.

“Simply because it is our duty.”

“But why can’t we wait till we’re on our way back?”

“It would be too late then.”

“But I say, Larry,” interposed Dick, “do you really think we are under so imperative an obligation as that?”

“To do one’s duty is always an imperative obligation. We are all of us the sons of gentlemen. We have been trained to think—and truly so—that a gentleman must do his duty regardless of consequences to himself. So we are going to start for Beaufort at daylight, no matter what annoyances it may bring upon us.”

“Of course you are right,” said Dick and Tom in a breath. Cal said nothing until one of them asked him why he remained silent.

“I’m a Rutledge,” he answered, “and what Larry has said is the gospel in which I have been bred. I hadn’t thought it out till Larry spoke, that’s all.”

“Neither had I,” said Dick.

“Nor I,” said Tom. “Of course we’ve all been bred in the same creed, and I for one shall never again wait to be reminded of it when a duty presents itself.”

“Your decision is unanimously sustained and approved, Larry,” added Dick, by way of relaxing the seriousness of the talk. “The Rutledges, the Garnetts and the Wentworths echo your thought, if not your words—for Echo insists upon pronouncing them—‘Bully for you!’”

At that moment something happened which brought all four of the boys to their feet and prompted Cal to slip the cartridges out of his gun and substitute others carrying buckshot in their stead. The others, observing his act, quickly imitated it.

XVIII

FIGHT OR FAIR PLAY

AS the exchange of cartridges was in progress, five men, all armed, approached the bivouac. They had landed from a boat a hundred yards or so further down the creek, and attempted to creep upon the camp and take it by surprise.

Fortunately Larry’s quick ears had caught sound of them, and by the time the exchange of bird for buckshot was completed they were in plain view and not more than a dozen or twenty yards away.

“Halt!” Larry cried out to them, and as they seemed indisposed to obey the command, he called again:

“Stand where you are or we’ll shoot!”

There was no doubt in Larry’s mind that these men were a band of smugglers, or that they were trying to spring upon his party unawares. He had no mind to be taken by surprise by murderous ruffians. Fortunately for all concerned, his command was obeyed.

“Who are you and what do you want?”

“That we decline to say,” said the spokesman of the party.

“Then stand off,” said Larry, “or go back to your own place, wherever it is, or take the consequences.”

Larry was quick to observe that neither the words nor the tone of the one who had spoken were such as the drunken, degraded, ignorant men he had seen in the smugglers’ camp would have used, and the fact puzzled him. After a moment’s reflection he called out:

“If you have any business with us you may come ahead a few paces into the full light of the fire and say what you have to say. But if one of you raises a gun we’ll give you a volley of buckshot straight at your breasts. Come on out of the bushes and tell us what you want.”

As the advance was made and the full firelight fell upon the five men, Larry saw that they were in the uniform of the revenue cutter service, with which he was familiar.

“I beg your pardon, Boatswain,” he said, but without relaxing his watchfulness; “I couldn’t see your uniforms until now, and mistook your party for one of a very different sort. Come to the fire and tell us what you want; your men can stay where they are till we understand each other better.”

This last was said because of an apparent purpose on the part of the men to move forward in a body.

“Now then, Boatswain, what have you to say to us?” Larry asked, while the other three boys stood watchfully by the huge trunk of the fallen tree with their shotguns held precisely as they would have been had their owners been alertly waiting for a pointer to flush a flock of birds for them to shoot on the wing.

“We are men in the revenue service,” the boatswain answered. “We were sent ashore from the cutter that lies just off the mouth of the creek to ask who you are and what you are doing here—in short, to give an account of yourselves. It will save trouble if you answer us.”

“Coming from an agent of the revenue,” answered Larry, with dignity, “your questions are entirely proper. It was not necessary to couple an implied threat with them. However, that was nothing worse than a bit of ill manners, and I’ll overlook it. To answer your questions: My name is Lawrence Rutledge; one of the others is my brother. We live in Charleston, and with our two guests we are down here for a little sporting trip. Is there anything else you’d like to know about us?”

“That’s a queer sort of boat you’ve got,” answered the other.

“I asked if there was anything else you wanted to know,” said Larry, ignoring the comment on the dory’s appearance as an impertinent one.

“I guess you’ll have to talk with the lieutenant about that. You see I’m only a warrant officer.”

“Very well. Where is he?”

“On board the cutter.”

“Send for him then. We’ll give him any information we can.”

“I think I see myself sending for him! I’ll have to take you on board.”

“But we won’t go,” answered Larry, with eyes snapping.

“You’ll have to go.”

“But we won’t. We are American citizens, attending to our honest business. If your lieutenant or any other officer of the Government wishes to ask us any legitimate question, we’re ready to answer. But we will not endure insult or wrong. If you have a warrant for our arrest we’ll not resist, but we’ll not submit to arrest without authority.”

“We don’t have to bother about warrants when we’ve got smugglers dead to rights.”

“But we are not smugglers.”

“That’s for you to settle with the lieutenant. It’s my business to arrest all of you and take you on board the cutter.”

In a low voice, before the boatswain had finished his sentence, Larry said to his comrades:

“Jump over the log—we’ll make a breastwork of it,” and instantly they obeyed, leaving him on the side next the revenue men. Then to the boatswain he said:

“You’ve no right to arrest without a warrant. I tell you once for all we’ll not submit to arrest.”

“What’ll you do then?”

“We’ll fight first,” answered Larry, delivering the words like shots from a pistol, and leaping to the farther side of the fallen tree as he spoke.

The boatswain was bewildered. He knew, in a vague way, that no one can legally make an arrest without a warrant, except when he sees a person in the act of committing crime or running away from officers; but he had never before had an experience of determined resistance. He was accustomed to the summary ways of brute force that prevail in military life, and to him it seemed absurd for anybody to resist the only kind of constituted authority with which he was familiar.

He was sorely perplexed. He was by no means sure that the boys were the smugglers he had been sent to arrest. On the contrary, their manner, their speech and all other appearances were in their favor. Nevertheless his superior officers had been watching the dory’s movements for several days and had sent him ashore in full assurance that they had their quarry at bay. He was convinced that he ought to arrest the party, but he had only four men and himself for the work, and there stood four stalwart young fellows behind the fallen tree trunk with four double-barreled shotguns bristling across the barrier. The creek, with a sharp bend, lay upon their left and completely covered their rear, while on their right was a swamp so densely grown up in cane and entangled vines, to say nothing of the treacherous mud below, that passage across it would have been nearly impossible in the broadest light of day. Clearly Larry’s party must be assailed in front if assailed at all, and the boatswain was not to blame for hesitating to make an assault which would almost certainly cost the lives of himself and all his men. Add to this his uncertainty as to his right to make any assault at all, and what he did is easily understood.

He ordered his men to fall back to their boat, and as they did so he stood alone where he had been. When the men were well away, he said to Larry:

“You don’t think me a coward, do you?”

“Certainly not,” Larry answered.

“Well, this thing may get me into trouble you know, and if you’re the man you say you are, I may want you to help me out as a witness. Will you do it?”

“Yes, certainly. But what’s the use of getting into trouble? I’m willing to trust your word as an honorable fellow; if you’ll trust mine in the same way you and I can settle this whole matter in ten minutes in a way that will bring you praise instead of blame. Don’t go aboard the cutter and report a failure and be blamed for it; stay here and talk the matter over and then go aboard with a report that will do you honor. What do you say to that?”

“What are your terms?”

“Only that you meet me in the same spirit in which I meet you. Give up your notion that we are a gang of smugglers—you must see how absurd it is—and give up your claim of a right to arrest us without a warrant; meet me half way and I’ll show you how to get out of a scrape that you wouldn’t have got into but for those two mistaken guesses. We have no feeling of enmity toward you and no wish to injure you. If we were ready to fight you to the death, it was only in defense of our rights. Give up your attempt to invade those rights and there will be no quarrel between us. Is it a bargain?”

“Well, you speak fair anyhow. I don’t see what else I can do than meet you half way. I’m ready.”

“Very well, then,” said Larry, emptying his gun of its cartridges and signing to his comrades to do likewise. “As you have sent your men away, we’ll make things even by disarming ourselves.”

With instinctive recognition of the manly generosity thus shown the boatswain tossed his own gun to the ground and, advancing, held out his hand, saying:

“You wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t been what you say you are. I’m ready to sit down now and talk things over.”

Larry sprang over the log that separated them and took the proffered hand. Then all sat down, and Larry said:

“I’m willing to tell you now what I never would have told you under a threat. We have seen the smugglers you are looking for; we know where they are, or at any rate where they were two days ago; we know where their plunder is hidden, and we are prepared to go with you to the place. We were on our way to Beaufort to report all this to the revenue authorities when you came to arrest us.”

The two had risen and were standing now, and the boatswain was continually shaking Larry’s hand. He tried to say what was in his mind but couldn’t. His wits were bewildered for the moment, and Larry came to their rescue.

“Pull yourself together, Boatswain,” he said, “and listen to me. Hurry back to your boat, go aboard the cutter at once, and report that you haven’t found a smuggler’s camp but that you’ve found somebody who can and will show your commanding officer where one is. Tell him Lawrence Rutledge and his companions offer their services as guides who know where to go. Be off, quick. We’ll wait here for his answer.”

The boatswain’s wits were all in his control now and he hurried away. He had achieved victory where only defeat had seemed possible. He had met with success where a few minutes before he had hoped for nothing better than failure. He was going on board to receive commendation instead of the censure he had expected. Honor was his in lieu of dreaded disgrace.

XIX

WHY LARRY WAS READY FOR BATTLE

“LARRY, you ought to be a major-general,” said Dick, with enthusiasm, as soon as the boatswain was well out of earshot. “I never saw anything better managed than that was. From the moment you put us behind the log, the fight—if there was to be a fight—was all ours.”

“Yes,” said Tom, “we’d have had no difficulty in cleaning those fellows out if it had come to that, and the boatswain saw it as clearly as we did. But I don’t yet understand why you did it, Larry.”

“Why, simply to make sure of success in self-defense. That seems simple enough,” responded Larry.

“Oh, yes, that’s simple enough, but I wasn’t thinking about that. I meant I don’t see why you made any objection to going aboard at first and telling the officers there all you’re going to tell them now. You are going of your own accord now; why didn’t you go when he wanted you to?”

“Because there was a principle at stake,” answered Larry, setting his teeth together as he recalled the controversy. “We are going aboard now of our own accord, as you say. That’s very different from going aboard as prisoners, under compulsion.”

“But I don’t see what difference it would have made when you knew the officers there would make guests instead of prisoners of us as soon as they heard what you had to say. It seems to me it would have come to the same thing in the end.”

“Not by a long shot,” answered Larry, speaking with particular earnestness. “Think a minute, Tom. We are free men, living under a free government that exists for the express purpose of securing liberty to all its people and protecting them in the enjoyment of that liberty. If one man, or one set of men, could arrest others without a warrant from a court, there would be no security for liberty and no liberty in fact. Whenever the people of any country are ready to submit to any infringement of their rights as free men, liberty in that country is dead, and tyranny is free to work its evil will. And in a free country it is the most sacred duty of every man to resist the smallest as well as the largest trespass upon his rights as a man. Usually he can do this by appealing to the courts of law, but in a case like ours to-night, where there is no possibility of making such an appeal, every man must be ready to fight for his rights—yes, to fight to the death for them if necessary.”

“But the matter was so small in this case—”

“What possible difference does that make? A principle is never small; liberty is always of supreme consequence, and it makes no difference how trifling the trespass upon one’s liberty is in itself, the duty to resist it at all costs and all hazards is just the same. Convenience and comfort do not count in any way. The difficulty is that men are not always ready to take trouble and endure inconvenience in defense of their rights where the matter in question seems to them of small moment. They forget that ‘eternal vigilance is the price of liberty,’ or if they remember it, they are too self-indulgent to undertake a troublesome resistance. It was not so that the men of the Revolutionary time looked at the matter. Webster said that the Americans ‘went to war against a preamble,’ and perhaps they did, but the preamble involved a fundamental principle. It was for the principle, not for the preamble, that they fought for seven long years. The colonists could easily have submitted to the impositions of a half crazy king and his tyrannical prime minister. It would have saved them a vast deal of inconvenience, expense and danger to do so. It would have been far more comfortable for them if they had done so. But if they had, this great, free nation of ours would never have existed, and the people in other civilized countries would not have enjoyed anything like the liberty they do now. In the same way it would have saved a lot of trouble if we had let those people arrest us to-night, but we had no right to submit to that. It was our duty to stand upon our rights and defend the principle by defending them.

“There! The lecture is over, and I promise not to let it happen again,” said Larry, by way of indirect apology for his seriousness.

“Well,” said Tom, “I for one am glad I heard the lecture as you call it. I needed it badly, for I had never thought of these things in that way. How did you come to have all that on the tip of your tongue, Larry?”

“I don’t know, or, yes I do. I was born and brought up on that gospel, and I have heard it preached all my life. My father has taught Cal and me from childhood that ‘the only legitimate function of government is to maintain the conditions of liberty,’ and that the highest duty of every citizen is to insist that the government under which he lives shall do precisely that. Now let’s talk of something else, or you fellows talk, rather, for I’ve talked more than my share already.”

“Before we do,” broke in Dick, “there’s just one thing I’d like to ask.”

“All right. Go ahead. Ask anything you please if it isn’t a conundrum.”

“Well, it isn’t a conundrum. It is only that I wonder how you know there isn’t some law authorizing the revenue officers to make arrests without warrants?”

“I know it simply because such a law is impossible.”

“How so?”

“Because there is no power on earth that can make such a law for this country.”

“Couldn’t Congress make it?”

“No. Congress has no more power to make it than a flock of crows has.”

“I don’t understand. If Congress should pass an act to that effect and the President should sign it, what then?”

“What then? Why just nothing at all. It wouldn’t be a law. It would have no more force or effect than the decree of a company of lunatics that the sun shall hereafter rise in the west and set in the east.”

“But why not?”

“Why, simply because Congress has no power to make any law that violates the Constitution. The Constitution expressly secures certain rights to every citizen. If Congress passes an act in violation of the Constitution, or even an act that the Constitution does not authorize it to pass, the courts refuse to enforce it or in any way to recognize it as a law. Now we’ve simply got to stop all this discussion, for I hear the revenue officers coming.”

XX

ABOARD THE CUTTER

WHEN the boatswain made his report to the lieutenant on board he did not confine himself to the points Larry had suggested. It had been his first thought to do so, reporting only that he had found no smugglers but had discovered a law-abiding company of youths who knew where the smugglers were and were willing to act as guides to the point indicated.

But on his way it occurred to him that the lieutenant might ask him questions—how he knew the character of the boys, and why he had not placed them under arrest, and other things relating to the conduct of his expedition.

It would be humiliating to have the story thus drawn out of him, and it would be awkward for him to explain why he had not reported the whole thing in the first place. So, upon reflection, he told the story in full, though briefly.

When he mentioned Larry’s name the lieutenant gave a little start and leaning forward as if to make sure he heard aright, asked:

“What did you say his name is?”

“Lawrence Rutledge is the name he gave me, sir.”

“Of Charleston?”

“That’s where he said he lived, sir,” answered the boatswain, wondering why his superior was so closely questioning him on these points.

The lieutenant resumed his upright position and with a half laugh said:

“It’s lucky for you that you chose discretion as the better part of valor this time. If Lawrence Rutledge is any way akin to his father, you’d have had the tidiest little fight you ever heard of on your hands if you’d charged him.”

“I don’t think there would have been any fight at all, sir, if you’ll pardon me.”

“Why not?”

“Only that I think every man of us would have bitten dust before we could have fired a gun. Those fellows were ready with guns cocked and leveled.”

“The moral of that is that you too should always be ready and have your men ready. Order the gig alongside—men unarmed.”

When the gig was ready, which was almost instantly, the lieutenant ran down the ladder, dropped into her, took the helm, and gave the orders:

“Oars!” “Let fall!” “Give way!” and the boat shot away toward the plainly visible camp-fire.

Landing, he introduced himself to Larry, who received him cordially and in turn presented his comrades.

“I have the pleasure of knowing your father very well, Mr. Rutledge,” he began.

“Then, please,” Larry interrupted, “call me ‘Lawrence,’ or ‘Larry,’ and not ‘Mr. Rutledge,’ Lieutenant. I’m only a boy yet, and I’ll never be ‘Mister’ to any of my father’s friends.”

“Very well. ‘Larry’ it shall be then, the more gladly because that is what I called you years ago when, as I remember, I was telling a lot of sea stories to you and your brother Calhoun—”

“Make it Cal, Lieutenant,” said the youth mentioned. “Larry and I are twins, you know, and always share things evenly between us. We did so with your stories, you know. I remember it very well, though we were a pair of very small youngsters then.”

“So you were—so young that I didn’t think you would remember the matter. But we’re losing time, and time may be precious in this case. My petty officer tells me you young gentlemen have seen the miscreants I’ve been hunting for and can tell me where they are.”

“We’ve seen them, and our friend Tom Garnett here has been inside one of their caches and inspected their goods. We can tell you where they were two nights or so ago, and perhaps they are there yet.”

“Almost certainly they are,” broke in the lieutenant. “It is calm weather outside, and not a craft of any kind has put in here under plea of weather stress since the _Senorita_ sailed two or three days ago.”

“The _Senorita_?” Tom repeated; “why, that’s the ship’s name I saw marked on some of the cigar cases and rum kegs they had.”

“Good, good, good!” said the officer enthusiastically. “If we can get to that hiding place before they remove the goods, I’ll telegraph to Baltimore to nab the ship also when she comes in. We _must_ get there in time. My officer understood that you and your party were willing to go with us. Was his understanding correct?”

“Yes,” Larry answered, “we’ll be glad to do that, but we must make some provision for the safety of our boat while we are gone.”

“She’ll be safe enough when she rests on the cutter’s deck. I’ll send a crew to take her alongside and we’ll hoist her on board. When all’s over I’ll put you in the water again at any point you choose. Is that satisfactory?”

“I should say so,” answered Larry. “We’re ready, Lieutenant.”

“Come on then, and I’ll take you aboard. I’ll leave a man with your craft till a boat’s crew can come and tow her alongside. Then we’ll weigh anchor and be off.”

It was less than fifteen minutes later when the boys saw the _Hunkydory_ carefully braced upon the little steamer’s deck and closely covered with a tarpaulin.

But it was nearly midnight and the lieutenant invited the boys to sleep in the comfortable berths provided for them until the cutter should reach the neighborhood of the smugglers’ camp. He thought he sufficiently recognized the locality from Cal’s description, and probably he could have steamed to it without further guidance. But there was no sleep in the eyes of the boys after their adventurous night, and they all heartily echoed Cal’s sentiment when he answered:

“What good is there in the frazzled end of a ragged night for sleeping purposes. I for one will stay up till we see this thing through, if it is going through to-night.”

The little cutter was a fleet-winged craft, built for speed, and carrying greatly more horse power than ordinary steamers of twice her size. Her navigator and all her officers, indeed, knew every detail of the waters they were traversing, and so the lieutenant hoped that he might reach his destination in time to descend upon the smugglers before morning.

In this he was disappointed. Some accident to the cutter’s machinery compelled a delay of two or three hours in a narrow strait where, to add to the annoyance of delay, a swarm of sand flies descended upon the ship’s company. These are minute insects, so minute that no screen or netting, however finely woven, interferes in the least with their free passage in or out of any opening. Their bite or sting is even more painful than that of a mosquito, and they come in myriads.

Under the advice of the commanding officer the boys retreated to a closed cabin below and remained there until the ship was under way again—otherwise for two or three hours, during which they lolled about and managed to get some sleep in spite of their impatience over the delay and the otherwise excited condition of their minds.

By way of making themselves more comfortable, they all drew off their boots, but they could not be persuaded to go to the bunks assigned to their use, because the ship might start again at any moment and they were determined to be ready for that whenever it should occur.

Cal, as usual, was the most wakeful of the party, and at first he was disposed to talk, but his impulse in that way was promptly checked when Tom and Larry each threw a boot at him and Dick, half asleep, muttered:

“I second the motion.”

As a consequence of this drastic treatment Cal closed his lips and his eyes at the same moment and was presently breathing as only a sleeper does. The others, tired and worn out with an excitement that had by this time passed away, were soon in a profound slumber which lasted until the engines began to throb again and the ship to jar and tremble with the rapid revolutions of the screw.

The sun was well up by that time, and after going on deck, where a sailor doused bucketfuls of salt water over them as an eye-opener, they were invited to breakfast with the commanding officer.

XXI

TOM’S SCOUTING SCHEME

DURING breakfast the talk was, of course, about the smugglers and the chances of capturing them. In the course of it the lieutenant manifested some confusion or uncertainty of mind as to the exact position of the smugglers’ rendezvous and of the approaches to it.

“Won’t you please clear that up a little for me?” he asked Larry, after a vain attempt to clear it up for himself. “I don’t quite understand. Perhaps you can make it plain to my dullness.”

“Cal can do that better than any other member of our party,” Larry answered. “He was all about there three or four years ago, while the rest of us have been there only once. Besides, Cal has a nose for geographical detail, and he observes everything and remembers it. Explain the thing, Cal.”

“After such an introduction,” Cal replied, smiling, “I fear I shall not be able to live up to the character so generously attributed to me. Still, I think I can explain the thing; it is simple enough. May I have paper and a pencil?”

These were promptly furnished, and Cal made a hasty diagram.

“You see, Lieutenant, there is a little creek or estuary here. It is very narrow, especially at the mouth, and it runs inland for only a few miles. I can’t find it on the chart. Probably it is too insignificant to be noted there. You observe that it runs in a tortuous course, ‘slantwise’ to the shore, and keeping always within a comparatively short distance of the broad water, thus forming a sort of tongue of land.

“A little further along the shore of the broader water is another little estuary or cove, only a few hundred yards in its total length, but that length extends toward the creek on the other side, so that only about half a mile or less of swamp and thicket separates the two.

“Right there, about midway between the two, those thieves have their den. They can approach it in their boats from either side, coming up the creek or entering the cove, and in either case landing within less than a quarter of a mile of their thicket-hidden rendezvous. As both the creek and the smaller estuary make a sharp bend near their mouths, a boat slipping into either of them is at once lost to view. I wonder if I have made the geography clear?”

“Perfectly so, and I thank you. Our plan will be to send boats up both the little waterways at once. Can we find their mouths, think you?”

“I can, and Tom knows both of them. He and I will be your pilots.”

“Thank you. But you know you may get shot in the mêlée and you are under no sort of obligation to take that risk.”

“Oh, we want to see the fun,” said Tom. “We’ll be with you, you may depend.”

“Is it your plan,” Larry asked after dinner that day, “to attack by daylight?”

“I think we must make the descent as promptly as possible. So I intend to make it to-day, as soon as we get to that neighborhood.”

Larry made no reply and the officer observed the fact.

“What is it you have on your mind, Larry?” he asked. “Have you any suggestion to offer?”

“No, I would not presume to do that. I was only thinking that in a daylight descent you might miss the game.”

“Go on, please. Tell me all you had in mind.”

“Well, for one thing, those rascals have a lookout tree from which they can see for miles in every direction. We used it for purposes of observation when we were there. It is true that they seem to visit it very seldom, but they might happen to climb it just in time to see this cutter hovering around. In that case they would probably go into hiding somewhere. If not, they would at least keep a sharp lookout for your boats. If you kept entirely away from there until night you would probably take them by surprise. But of course you know best.”

“I’m not so sure of that. What you suggest is a matter to be considered. But I’m afraid to wait until night lest in the meantime the rascals leave the place.”

“That is possible,” said Cal, joining in the conversation for the first time, “but it seems to me exceedingly unlikely.”

“Why so, Cal?”

“Well, we’ve pretty closely observed those gentry, and they seem to me of that variety that does most of its comings and goings under cover of darkness. If they were in their camp this morning they are pretty sure to remain there until to-night. There is another point that Larry didn’t suggest. If you attack the camp in daylight the ruffians can easily save themselves by scattering and making their escape through the well-nigh impenetrable swamp. They would have the advantage over your men in that, as of course they know every little blind trail and could avoid tangles in which your men would become hopelessly involved.”

“But wouldn’t they be at still greater advantage in a night attack?”

“I think not. They will probably get blind drunk by night, for one thing. They’re apt to sleep profoundly. We can land without being seen, and once ashore, we can creep clear up to their lair without alarming them. Then we’ll be on them with our boot heels as it were.”

“Why do you think they won’t be on the alert at night, with pickets out and all that?”

“Because we’ve experimented,” answered Cal. “We’ve crept up to the very edge of their camp and watched them there by the hour. Tom here even entered one of the hovels where they bestow the smuggled goods.”

The officer was much impressed with these suggestions. He meditated for a while, and then exclaimed:

“If I could only know whether they are still there or not! I’d give ten dollars to know that!”

“You can get the job done for less, Lieutenant,” said Tom, who was always eager for perilous adventure and almost insanely reckless in his pursuit of it. “If you’ll bring the cutter to anchor somewhere around here and let me go ashore, I’ll find out all about it and not charge you a cent either.”

“What’s your plan?”

“It isn’t much of a plan. It is only to go to the smugglers’ den, see if they are there, and then come back and tell you.”

“But—”

“Oh, it’s easy enough. The smugglers can’t see the cutter so long as she’s in this bay, even if they climb to the top of their lookout tree. I’m sure of that, because I’ve tried to see the bay from there and couldn’t, although I knew just where it lay.”

At this point the lieutenant interrupted:

“Pardon me a moment. I’ll bring her to anchor.”

Before he returned to the company a minute or so later, the engines stopped, and as he sat down the boys heard the chains rattle as the anchor was cast overboard.

“Now go ahead, please, and tell me all about your plan,” the officer said with eager interest.

“Well, it isn’t more than three or four miles, I should say, from this point to the mouth of our creek, and the tide is with me all the way. If you’ll set our dory in the water and Cal will go with me to help row—”

“We’ll all four go, of course,” said Larry.

“In that case, we can put ourselves back at our old camp in about an hour with such a tide as this to help us. When we land there I’ll go at once to the lookout tree, climb to the very top of it and see what is going on. Then, if there’s anything more to be found out, I’ll creep down to the neighborhood of the rascals’ place and take a closer look. When the dory gets back here I can tell you all you want to know.”

“Excellent!” exclaimed the officer. “Only, instead of having you boys row the dory all that way, I’ll have you taken to the place you want to reach in a ship’s boat.”

“They might see that,” objected Tom, “and take the alarm, while if they see the dory returning to her old anchorage they’ll think nothing about it. Besides, we don’t mind a little rowing. The tide’s with us going, and if necessary, we can stay up there in the creek till it turns and is ready to help us come back.”

“There won’t be any waiting,” said Cal. “It’ll turn just about the time we get there—or even before that if we don’t get away from here pretty quick.”

“Very well,” said the lieutenant. “The plan is yours, Tom, and you shall have your own way in carrying it out.”

A hurried order from the commanding officer, a little well-directed scurrying on the part of the seamen, and the _Hunkydory_ lay alongside, ready for her crew to drop from a rope ladder into her.

They nimbly did so, and as they bent to their oars they passed around a point and out of sight of the cutter.

XXII

TOM DISCOVERS THINGS

BY advice of the lieutenant, the boys left their shotguns on board the cutter and carried instead the short, hard-shooting repeating rifles that he furnished them. Armed in this way, each could fire many shots in rapid succession, instead of the two which alone their shotguns permitted.

“We can defend ourselves now if the gang discovers and assails us,” said Larry, with a satisfied smile. “With these guns we’re a good deal more than a match for those ten smugglers armed as they are with nothing better than pistols. By the way, Tom, what’s the plan of campaign?”

“That’s for you to say,” Tom answered. “You’re the captain.”

“Not a bit of it this time,” responded Larry. “This is _your_ expedition and you must manage it in your own way.”

“That’s only fair,” said Dick. “Tom has undertaken to go ashore, find out certain facts and report them. We’re here to help him in any way he wishes, but he is responsible for results and must choose his own methods.”

“I congratulate you, Dick, on having another lucid interval,” broke in Cal, who could never endure seriousness for long. “‘Pon my word, they’re growing more and more frequent and by the time we get back to Charleston we’ll have to discharge you as ‘cured.’”

“Stop your nonsense, Cal,” said Larry, “and let Tom give us our instructions.”

“Fortunately, I’m under no sort of obligation to stop my nonsense at your command, Larry, as by your own voluntary declaration you’re not captain of this special trip ashore, and Tom is.”

“All right,” said Tom, laughing. “I’ll give the order myself. Stop your nonsense till I get through mine—for I dare say you’ll all think my plan is nonsensical.”

“All right as to that,” said Larry, “but what is your plan? It doesn’t matter what we think of it.”

“Well, then, my notion is not to pull the _Hunkydory_ up on shore, but to anchor her at our old landing, so that we can handle her quickly in case of need. Two of you are to stay by her—that will be you and Dick, Larry. If we should be discovered, and those rascals should want to catch us, their first effort would be to get possession of our boat and put us into a trap. So you two will stay with the dory, and if you are in trouble, Cal and I will come to your assistance as fast as our legs can carry us. Cal will go with me to the lookout tree and stay there while I creep down to the lair of the thieves. If I get into trouble he’ll know it and signal you by firing one shot. Then, of course, you’ll all come to my support. How does that strike you as a plan, Larry?”

“A Lee or a Grant couldn’t make a better one. Here we are at the mouth of the creek.”

“Isn’t it ridiculous?” asked Cal, as they turned into the inlet.

“Isn’t what ridiculous—the creek, or its mouth, or what?” Tom responded.

“Why, the way things keep turning themselves around. First, the gentleman with the impaired walking apparatus, representing the smugglers, mistook us for officers or agents of the revenue, and sought to make prisoners of us by getting possession of our boat, so that we had to disarm him in self-defense. Next, the officers of the revenue mistook us for the smugglers and we had to defend ourselves against them. Now we are helping our later assailants to capture our foes of an earlier date. Wonder if we shall presently have to join the smugglers and assist them against the revenue people?”

“That last question answers itself, Cal,” said Tom; “and if it didn’t, there’s no time to discuss it now, for here we are at the landing. Run her head to the shore, fellows, and let Cal and me jump out. Then back her out a little way and anchor her. I leave you in charge of the ship in my absence, Lieutenant Larry. You have your instructions; see that you obey them to the letter.”

With footsteps quickened by eager interest, Tom and Cal were not long in making the journey to the lookout tree. Tom climbed it to the top and very carefully studied what lay before him. Cal, who was watching him, observed that he seemed specially interested by something over to the left where the creek lay, and perhaps a little puzzled by it. But he asked no questions as Tom hurried from the tree-top and set off down the blind trail.

He was gone for so long a time—nearly two hours—that Cal became very uneasy about him, but at last he came out of the thicket and set off toward the dory’s anchorage at as rapid a trot as the nature of the ground would permit. He said nothing to Cal except the three words: “We must hurry,” and as he neared the landing, he called out:

“Up anchor, quick.”

Then as the boat was moved toward the shore he impatiently waded out to meet her in water leg-length deep. Cal followed, though he did not know the cause of Tom’s hurry.

“Are they after us?” asked Larry and Dick, both speaking at once.

“No. But we must hurry or it’ll be too late.”

In response Larry shipped his oars as the mouth of the creek was passed and, with Dick’s assistance, stepped the mast, hoisted sail and let the sheet run out until the boom was almost at right angles with the keel.

“There’s a stiff wind,” he said by way of explanation, “and it’s almost exactly astern. We can make better time with the sails. Here, Dick, you’re the best sailor; take the helm and get all you can out of the breeze.”

“Don’t hug the port rail so close,” Dick ordered; “trim toward the kelson and let her heel over to starboard; there, that will do; she makes her best running with the rail awash.”

As they sped on, nobody asked Tom what the occasion for his hurry was. He seemed still out of breath for one thing, and for another the rush of the dory’s rail through the water made it difficult to hear words spoken in an ordinary tone, for though the wind was steadily freshening, Dick refused to spill even a capful of it. He was sailing now for speed, and he wanted to get all he could out of the wind. But chief among the reasons for not asking questions was the instinctive courtesy of Tom’s comrades. They realized that he had discovered something of importance, and they felt that he ought to have the pleasure of himself reporting it to the commanding officer of the cutter before telling anybody else about it.

In the same spirit, when the dory was laid along the cutter’s side, they held back to let Tom be the first to climb to the deck, where the lieutenant was awaiting him.

Tom’s excitement was gone, now that he had accomplished his purpose of reaching the cutter before dark—a thing he had feared he might not do. His report was made calmly, therefore, and with smiles rippling over his face—smiles of rejoicing over his success, and other smiles, prompted by recollections of what seemed to him the humorous aspects of what he had seen and done.

The report was utterly informal, of course; Tom was not used to military methods.

“They are all there, Lieutenant,” he began, “but they won’t be there long after it grows dark. They’re preparing to leave to-night, as early as they can get the drunken ones among them sober enough to sit on a thwart and hold an oar.”

“How do you know that, Tom?”

“Why, I heard the boss brute say so while he was rousing one of the drunkest of them into semi-consciousness by kicking him in the ribs with force enough to break the whole basket I should think. I won’t repeat his language—it wasn’t fit for publication—but the substance of it was that the victim of his boot blows had ‘got to git a move onto him’ because ‘them boats has got to git away from here jest as soon as it’s good and dark.’”

“Why, were you near enough to hear?”

“Oh, yes. I wasn’t more than ten paces away from the pair at the time that interesting conversation occurred.”

“Tell us all about it, Tom—the whole story. There’s plenty of time. It won’t be ‘good and dark,’ as criminals reckon such things, for nearly two hours yet. Begin at the beginning.”

“There isn’t any story in it,” said Tom, “but I’ll tell you what I did. When I climbed to the top of the lookout tree, I saw first of all that our game was still there. But I noticed that some of them—all that weren’t drunk, I suppose—were busy. I couldn’t make out at that distance what they were doing, but I thought they seemed to be carrying things, not down to the cove where we saw them land the other night, but over toward our creek, as we call it. I tried to see their landing place there, but couldn’t.

“Of course I had already found out all you wanted to know, but I wanted to know something more. My curiosity was aroused, and I determined to gratify it. So, sliding down, I made my way to my old hiding place in the thicket near their camp. Then I saw what they were at. They were taking the cigars and rum out of the little hovels they use as caches, and carrying them over to their landing on the creek. I wondered why, but I could not see the landing, so I had to let that remain as an ‘unexplored region,’ for the time being at least.

“Presently the gentleman of the impaired locomotor attachments made a final visit to the hut that stood nearest me—the one I had myself entered on a previous occasion. As he came out and passed the boss bully, he said:

“‘That’s all they is in there.’

“‘Well, I’ll look and see for myself,’ said the boss, seeming to doubt the veracity of his follower. He went into the hut and presently came out, muttering:

“‘Well, he told the truth for once—I didn’t ’spose he knew how.’

“As he walked away from the empty hovel it occurred to me that I might find it a safer point of observation than the one I had. So I slipped into it, and dug out one of the chinks in the log wall, to make a peep hole. It was then that I saw the boss making a football of his follower and heard him say what he did about getting the boats away.

“That still further stimulated my curiosity. I wanted to see how nearly the boats were loaded, and the sort of landing place they had, and all the rest of it. So I determined to go over that way. It was slow work, of course. The undergrowth was terribly tangled, and then the smugglers were passing back and forth with their loads. As their path was often very near me, I had to stop and lie down whenever I saw any of them approaching.

“I got down there at last and saw the boats. They were partly loaded, but most of the freight was still on the bank. I suppose that was because they wanted to get all the things there before bestowing them. All the rum kegs that had been brought down were in the boats, while all the cigars were piled on the banks.

“I noticed one thing that puzzled me; instead of anchoring the boats and loading them afloat, they had pulled them up on shore. As the tide had begun to ebb, I wondered how they were to get them into the water again after putting their cargoes aboard. However, that was their business and not mine. I had seen all there was to see, so I slowly crept back again till I reached the trail. Then I hurried for fear the quarry would escape before we could get there with your boats.

“That’s all there is to tell.”

The lieutenant smiled his satisfaction as he commended Tom’s exploit, adding:

“We can let it ‘get good and dark’ before pouncing upon them. They won’t get away in a hurry. They’ll have trouble getting their boats afloat again. Indeed, they’ll probably wait for the next flood tide. Anyhow, we won’t leave here till it is thoroughly dark. You’re sure you can find your way into the creeks in the dark? It’s cloudy, and the night promises to be very black.”

“Oh, there’ll be no trouble about that,” answered Cal.

XXIII

TOM AND THE MAN WITH THE GAME LEG

IT was very dark indeed when the ship’s boats, well manned and with carefully muffled oars, set out for the capture.