No Moss: or, The Career of a Rolling Stone
"Steal it!" drawled Tom. "O, now, if that's the way you are going to get your supplies, you needn't ask me to help, for I won't do it."
"Mebbe you'll be willin' enough to eat the grub when we get it," returned Sam.
"That's a different matter. Of course, I'll not starve if there's is any thing on board the vessel to eat, but I won't steal. Where are you going to get your provisions?"
"At Mr. Henry's store."
"O, now, suppose you should be caught? That would kill the expedition at once. Johnny Harding sleeps in the store every night."
"Does he?" exclaimed the governor. "That's something I didn't calculate on; but I guess we aint much afraid of him. If we can only get inside the store without awaking him, we can manage him easy enough. I'll have a club, or something, an' the sight of it will keep him quiet while the other fellers are securin' the provisions."
Tom was amazed at the coolness with which the governor discussed this villainous plan for supplying the commissary of the Crusoe band. He was hardly prepared for so desperate an undertaking, and yet, at the same time, he had determined upon the perpetration of an offense which was even more atrocious in the eyes of the law than the one Sam had proposed. When it first entered his mind, he had been terrified at the bare thought of it; but he had pondered upon it so often, and had weighed so many schemes for its accomplishment, that the enormity of the crime had finally dwindled into insignificance. Perhaps, if he had spent as much time in thinking about robbing Mr. Henry's store as he had about destroying the Storm King, Sam's proposition would not have startled him in the least. The fact was, Tom had long been going down hill, in a moral point of view. Like every one else who does not advance, he was retrograding. There is no such thing as standing still in this world. A boy grows better or worse every day of his life. The change may be so gradual as to escape the notice of those around him, but it is, nevertheless, surely going on. The truth of this had been fully illustrated in Tom's case. From studying up schemes for mischief, which were simply intended to amuse himself and companions, he had come, by easy steps, to think seriously of attempting a crime, to revenge himself upon his father, the students, and the principal of the academy. He did not expect to accomplish it without being discovered; and he knew that, if he was captured, his punishment would be something more terrible than any thing he had yet experienced. But this thought did not deter him. He was resolved to carry out his new idea, if within the bounds of possibility, and to escape the consequences by running away from the village.
"Well, cap'n, what do you say?" asked the governor, after Tom had sat gazing thoughtfully at the ground for several minutes. "We must have something to eat, an that's the only way I know of to get it."
"You can do as you please," was the answer. "I shall not take any part in robbing the store; there is too much danger in it."
"Well, we can get along without your help. You can stand by and look on. You said something about gettin' even with them 'cademy swells, didn't you?"
"Yes, I did. I am going to burn that yacht."
It was now Sam's turn to be astonished. He started up and looked at his companion as if he hardly believed that he could be in earnest.
"O, I mean it, governor," said Tom, with a decided shake of his head.
"Now, if you will listen to me, cap'n', you will keep away from them 'cademy fellers. They think a heap of that little vessel, an' if they ketch you tryin' to burn her, they won't be no ways backward about givin' you a good drubbin'. Besides, you'll have Mr. Grimes after you."
"I have thought the matter over thoroughly, Sam, and nothing you can say will turn me from my purpose. Do you suppose that, after all that has happened, I am going to let those fellows enjoy quiet possession of the Storm King? No, sir; I won't do it. She rightfully belongs to me, and if I can't have her, nobody shall. When I meet those sailors strutting about the village, showing off their new uniforms, and see Harry Green planking his quarter-deck with all the dignity of an admiral, I feel as if I'd like to sink the vessel and her crew in the deepest part of the ocean. If my father had given her to me, as he ought to have done, I should now be the happiest boy in the world; as it is, I am the most miserable. I don't expect you and the band to run any risks, governor. All I ask of you is to pull me alongside the yacht, and I'll do the rest. I'll slip on board with a bottle of coal-oil in my pocket, and if I can once get into the galley without being discovered, I'll finish her."
The governor gazed at Tom in silent wonder and admiration. The latter's plan for "squaring yards" with the principal was likely to involve him in considerable danger, and Sam could not help acknowledging to himself that it was something he would not dare undertake. He had great respect for courage, and he believed that he had been sadly mistaken in Tom. He began to stand in awe of him, too; for a boy who could conceive of such an exploit, and talk so calmly about it, after the experience he had already had with the students, might indeed prove a dangerous person to make an enemy of. The governor secretly determined to keep on the right side of Tom.
"Well," said he, at length, "I promised that I would help you, an' I'll stick to it."
"If you don't, I'll do the job alone," declared Tom. "I'll board the yacht some night, and set fire to her, even if I know that the students will catch me in the very act. But it is getting dark, and I must go home."
"Come ag'in to-morrow afternoon, cap'n," said the governor. "I'll have the other fellers here then, an' we can talk the matter over."
Tom promised to be on hand; and after Sam had piloted his boat out of the cove into still water, he filled away for home, feeling happier than he had done for many a day. We are so well acquainted with him, that it is scarcely necessary to say that he passed a sleepless night, and that during the following day he lived in a state of constant excitement. Of course he was certain of success – he always was, in spite of his former experience – and of course he gave full sway to his imagination, and indulged in pleasing anticipations of the life of glorious ease upon which he was soon to enter. There would be no Johnny Harding to bother him (Tom spent a good deal of time in trying to decide upon some plan to punish Johnny before he left the village); no stern, unreasonable father to interfere with his grand ideas; no care or trouble of any description to mar his happiness; but his days would be passed in one continual round of enjoyment. Every one who came in contact with him noticed that he was in wonderful spirits – not morose and sullen as he had lately been, but gay and active, and, for a wonder, industrious. This was enough to excite the suspicions of his father, who watched him more closely than ever, but could discover nothing wrong.
Tom remained at the office until four o'clock, and then went home. He kept the back streets, to avoid meeting any of his acquaintances, but, to his intense disgust, he ran against two of the crew of the Storm King, in front of his father's house. They were the ones who threatened him with a bath in the harbor if he attempted to carry out any more of his plans against the yacht, and whom Tom alarmed by declaring that he had another idea already.
"O, now, I'd like to see you duck me in the harbor," drawled Tom. "If you think you can scare me, you are very much mistaken. I'll astonish you, one of these days."
"You had better be careful how you talk, captain," said one of the young tars, placing his hand on the gate as if he had half a mind to follow Tom into the yard; "we are in no humor to listen to any threats."
"Now, haven't I told you a dozen times that I want you to quit calling me captain?" whined Tom. "I've stood your insults just as long as I am going to. I've got a splendid idea."
Tom turned on his heel, and walked down the lawn toward the wharf where the Mystery lay; and when he had hoisted the sails, he started for the island, to keep his appointment with Sam Barton. On the way he overtook and passed a yawl, in which were seated the four members of the Crusoe band; and the significant manner in which they shook their heads at Tom, satisfied him that the governor had talked the matter over with them, and that they were ready to join the expedition.
He found Sam on the rock where he had met him the day before; and when he had piloted the Mystery into the cove, he conducted Tom up the path that led to the summit of the bluff, and together they returned to the rock, to await the arrival of the other members of the band. They came at length, and in a few minutes the yawl was lying in the cove beside the Mystery, and the Crusoe men were seated on the grass in front of the cabin, talking over their plans.
The arrangements for the cruise were speedily completed. It was unanimously agreed by the band that the only way to get their provisions was to rob Mr. Henry's store (to Tom's great surprise, not the slightest objection was made to this proposition); that they should capture the Sweepstakes, and assist Tom in destroying the yacht; that Sam should be chief of the band, Tom captain of the vessel, and Xury, in view of the skill he had exhibited in navigating the yacht down the harbor on that stormy night, should be first mate. It was further agreed that the members of the band should go back to the village, collect all the articles of the outfit, and, as soon as it grew dark, return to the island, where they would remain concealed until they were ready to start on their cruise.
"You see," explained the governor, "when you five fellers run away, it'll be sure to raise a big fuss, and mebbe Tommy's father will try to find him. But he'll never think of lookin' fur him so near the village; an' here we'll stay, as snug an' comfortable as bugs in a rug. The fuss will die out after awhile, an' then, some dark night, we'll pay our last visit to Newport."
This programme was duly carried out; and, while every body was wondering what had become of the runaways, and Mr. Newcombe was sending his tugs up and down the bay, in all directions, in the hope of hearing some tidings of the missing Tom, he was safely sheltered in Sam Barton's retreat, enjoying a foretaste of Crusoe life, happy in the society of the young vagabonds he had chosen for his companions, and never wasting a thought upon the home and friends he had deserted.
CHAPTER IV.
TOM IN TROUBLE
For the first time in a good many months, Tom was willing to acknowledge that he was a happy boy. The life he led in Sam Barton's harboring-place exactly suited him. He had plenty to eat, no work to do, and nothing to trouble him. By virtue of his rank, he was exempt from all camp duty; and the only labor he had to perform during the day-time was to dispose of his meals when Friday said they were ready. When he felt so inclined, he took part in the conversation, and discussed with the others the best methods of carrying out the plans they had determined upon; but he believed the position he held warranted the display of a little dignity on his part, and he generally kept aloof from all his companions, except the governor, and spent the most of his time in dozing and building air-castles. If the Storm King had been destroyed, he would have been willing to pass the remainder of his days in the cove. That would save him the trouble and inconvenience of a long voyage at sea, which, reckless as he was, he was in no hurry to undertake. What if the Sweepstakes should be caught out in a storm, like the one they had experienced the night they made the attack on the yacht? The captain did not like to think about this; but the question would now and then force itself upon him, and he finally determined that, if he found himself likely to get into trouble, he would shirk the responsibility by turning the command of the vessel over to his mate.
On the evening of the fourteenth day after the Crusoe men had taken up their abode in the cove, Tom lay upon the grass, gazing into the water, and lazily fanning himself with his hat. The band had been employed, during the day, in enlarging the cabin, and Tom had condescended to lend a very little assistance, and was now resting after his labors. A fire was burning brightly under the bluff, and, before it, supported upon sticks driven into the ground, were half a dozen fine fish, which, under the influence of the heat, were emitting an odor that would have tempted an epicure. A coffee-pot simmered and sputtered on a bed of coals that had been raked out on one side of the fire, and on the other stood Friday, the cook, watching some potatoes that were roasting in the ashes. A short distance from the fire was the table, laid for supper. It was a little knoll, thickly covered with grass, which answered the purpose of a tablecloth. The most prominent object upon it was a huge piece of beech bark, which did duty as a bread-plate – only it was filled with crackers, instead of bread; and, judging by the quantity it contained, Friday must have thought his companions would be very hungry after their day's work. Around it were arranged the dishes with which each member of the band had been required to provide himself – a tin plate and cup, and also a spoon, knife, and fork. Two more pieces of bark lay near the fire, waiting to receive the fish and potatoes.
The outfit provided by the band for their former expedition, and which fell into the hands of the students when they recaptured their vessel, had been restored to the owners by the principal, and they had brought it to the island with them. Will Atkins was now engaged in stowing it away in the cabin, Xury was arranging the beds, and Jack Spaniard was fixing up some brackets to receive the guns.
The governor was off reconnoitering. He had issued orders prohibiting his men from going outside the cove in the day-time, but he himself ascended to the upper world at least once in every two or three hours, to see what was going on, and to satisfy himself that the farmer on whose land the cove was situated had seen nothing to arouse his suspicions.
"Now, then," said Friday, "supper's ready. Will Atkins, go after the governor."
"Who made you an officer?" replied Atkins. "Go yourself."
"Now, look here," exclaimed Tom, raising himself on his elbow, and looking indignantly at the cook, "by whose authority do you issue commands here? There are a captain and mate in this society now, and all orders must pass through them."
"I forgot," said Friday. "Cap'n, will you tell somebody to call the governor?"
"Mr. Mate," drawled Tom, "be kind enough to send a man after the governor."
"Will Atkins," said Xury, "go up an' tell the governor that if he wants any grub he'd best be gettin' down here."
The order came from the proper authority this time, and through the proper channels, and Atkins could not refuse to obey.
This style of passing orders had been introduced by Tom, and was what he called the "man of war routine." He insisted that it was no more than right that all the officers should have something to do with whatever was going on; and, after a few objections from Sam, who did not like to surrender any of his authority, he had carried his point. The governor was sharp enough to see, after a little reflection, that this rule, if strictly carried out, would establish him more firmly in his position than ever before. By allowing his officers to show their authority on all occasions, they would be kept good natured; and if any trouble arose in the band, he could depend upon their assistance and support. There were two among the Crusoe men, however, who were not at all pleased with this state of affairs, and they were Will Atkins and Jack Spaniard. By carrying out Tom's system they were made hewers of wood and drawers of water to their companions; and Will Atkins, who was a turbulent fellow, declared that he wouldn't stand it – that there would be a big fuss in the society some day, if the officers persisted in making a servant of him. He always obeyed orders, because he was afraid to refuse; but he growled about it like any old sailor.
"I think this is a purty how-de-do," said he, sullenly, as he started off to obey the mate's command. "It's 'Will Atkins, do this!' 'Will Atkins, do that!' That lazy governor, an' Muley, an' Xury can set around an' do nothin'; but Atkins can't have a minute's peace."
"Go on, and obey the order," said Tom, sternly. "If I hear another word out of you, I'll report you to the governor."
This thread silenced the dissatisfied member of the Crusoe band. He knew, by experience, that the chief had a very unpleasant way of dealing with rebellious spirits, and fear of bodily harm kept him quiet.
By the time Friday had dished up his supper, Atkins returned with the governor, who threw himself upon the grass at the head of the table, while his officers seated themselves on each side of him. He passed his cup to the cook to be filled with coffee, and, as he did so, he ran his eye over the table, and smiled with great satisfaction.
"This is a heap better grub than I had while I lived here alone," said he. "Friday, you know I am heavy on taters; why didn't you cook more of 'em?"
"Them's the last," was the answer.
"Then we must lay in a new supply," said Sam. "We'll go up after dark, an' hook a bushel or so. I've been watchin' them fellers up there, fur the last half hour; an' I notice they have left a good many piles of taters in the field. It'll be the easiest thing in the world fur us to get as many as we want."
The matter was settled without any further remarks. The governor's orders had thus far been received and obeyed without comment; and so small and uninteresting an enterprise as robbing a potato-patch was not worth talking about. The Crusoe men had done such things so often that they thought no more of them than they did of going fishing.
But this expedition was destined to be rather more exciting than any of a similar kind in which they had ever engaged; and if they had only known what was to happen before morning, and could have looked far enough into the future to see the long string of events that was to result from the governor's order, it is probable that they would one and all have refused duty.
Supper over, the Crusoe men lounged on the grass, in front of the cabin, and talked of what they had done, and what they intended to do – all except Friday, who busied himself in clearing the table, and washing the dishes. At sunset it was quite dark in the cove; but the governor knew there was still plenty of light on the cliffs above, and he waited nearly two hours more before he gave the signal for action.
"I reckon we can be movin' now," said he, at length. "I don't s'pose there is any danger, but, of course, it will be well for us to keep our eyes an' ears open. If them fellers up there havn't found out by this time that there's something goin' on, it aint no fault of our'n; fur we've made mighty free with their fruit an' vegetables durin' the last few nights. Cap'n, see that each man is provided with a sack to put the taters in."
Tom repeated the order to his mate, who went into the cabin, and presently returned with an armful of bags, which he distributed among the band. The chief then lighted his lantern, and, every thing being ready for the start, led the way toward the cliff, the ascent of which was regarded by the members of the band as the worst part of the undertaking. The fissure along which the path ran, was as dark as midnight; and the faint light which the governor's lantern threw out, afforded them but little assistance in finding their way.
They had made the ascent so often, however, that they had become quite familiar with the path, and there was no danger of losing their way, or of falling over the rocks. They crossed the chasm by the rope bridge in safety, and finally reached the summit, where the governor extinguished his light, and stopped to reconnoiter. Every thing was still, and Sam was satisfied that the coast was clear, although he thought it best to give his men a few final instructions.
"There don't seem to be nothin' wrong," said he, "but, bein' an old fox, I know it aint always best to put too much faith in appearances. We won't go straight to the field, 'cause there may be somebody on the watch, you know; an' if they see where we come from, they'll discover our hidin'-place, an' then we can bid good-by to all hopes of ever seein' our island. If they get after us, we'll scatter out an' hide from 'em – we can easy do that in the dark – an' when they're gone, we'll meet here. But remember, fellers, we aint comin' back without them taters."
Sam, who had by this time become well acquainted with the country about his hiding-place, once more placed himself at the head of his men, and led them down the shore for a quarter of a mile; and after passing through two or three fields, came up on the other side of the potato-patch. If the farmer was on the watch, this maneuver would lead him to believe that Sam and his band had come from the village.
The governor had no difficulty in finding the place where the farmer had left his potatoes, and after he had ordered two of the band to act as sentries, he set to work with the others to fill the bags.
For a wonder Tom labored as hard as the rest, and without once noticing how sadly he was soiling his hands and clothes. He was rendered extremely uneasy by the precautions the governor had taken to avoid capture, and he was anxious to get the work done as soon as possible. When his bag was filled, he tied it with a string he had brought with him for the purpose, and was making some desperate efforts to raise it to his shoulder, when an exclamation from one of the sentinels caused him to drop his burden as if it had been a coal of fire.
"See there, fellers!" whispered Xury.
"Look out, men!" chimed in Will Atkins. "I hear something."
Tom looked, but could see nothing. He knew there was danger near, however, and without waiting to see what quarter it was coming from, he jumped over his bag of potatoes, and drew a bee-line for the beach at a rate of speed that astonished himself. He had not made more than half a dozen steps, when an appalling yell rang out on the air, followed by the roar of a gun which sounded so loud that Tom, in his terror, thought it must have been fired close to his ear.
"Halt there, you villain!" shouted a voice close behind the flying captain of the Crusoe band.
Tom heard the order, and knew it was addressed to him, but he did not heed it. He ran faster than ever, the sound of rapidly pursuing footsteps lending him wings. But all his efforts were in vain. The footsteps grew louder, and presently Tom felt a strong hand grasp his collar. A moment afterward he found himself lying flat on his back, with a heavy weight on his breast holding him down.
CHAPTER V.
ATKINS REFUSES DUTY
Tom Newcombe had his first fight that night. He resisted the active young farmer who had seized him, to the best of his ability, although, for all the good it did him, he might as well have surrendered himself a prisoner at once. But the captain of the Crusoe band had a great many reasons for not wishing to be taken prisoner. In the first place, he was pretty well known in that country, and he was afraid that the farmer might recognize in him the son of the richest man in Newport; and, even if he did not, he would know that Tom had come from the village, and he would, of course, take him back there in the morning. Then what would become of him? What would his father do? and what would Johnny Harding, and the rest of the fellows, have to say about it? Above all, what would become of the expedition, and the plan he had laid for destroying the Storm King? His capture would put an end to all the bright dreams in which he had indulged during the past two weeks, and he would once more find himself an errand-boy in his father's office, deprived of every privilege, watched more closely than ever, and teased and tormented by his thoughtless acquaintances, who would never allow him a moment's peace. Tom thought of all these things, and he was surprised at himself when he found that he was fighting for his liberty with a courage and determination he had never supposed himself to possess. He kicked and thrashed about at an astonishing rate, and finding that his efforts were wholly in vain, he tried to frighten his captor by threatening him with a terrible vengeance if he did not immediately release him.