No Moss: or, The Career of a Rolling Stone
"What do you mean?" roared Tom, striving desperately to unclasp the strong fingers that were holding fast to his collar. "Let me up, or I'll give you cause to remember this night's work as long as you live. Let me up, I say."
"Well, I swan!" exclaimed the farmer, peering down into Tom's face, "I thought you made a poor fight for a man." Then hearing footsteps behind him, he looked up, and called out to some one who was approaching – "I say, Josh, they're only little brats of boys; they aint men at all. I wish I had a good apple-tree switch."
"O, now, you wouldn't use it on me if you had one," drawled Tom.
"Wouldn't! I'd like to know what's the reason?"
"Because you wouldn't dare do it. I always get even with any one who imposes on me, so you had better mind what you are about."
"I don't want any insolence now, for I aint in just the mood to stand it. If you and your crowd are the same fellows who have been prowling around here for the last week, you have stolen more than twenty dollars worth of garden truck. Get up here, you young robber!"
The farmer jerked his prisoner roughly to his feet, and by this time Josh came up. The arrival of re-enforcements, and the ease with which he was handled, convinced Tom that further resistance was useless, and he began to beg lustily.
"O, now, if you will let me go I'll never do it again," he pleaded.
"O yes, we'll let you go," was the encouraging reply. "We'll lock you up till morning, and then take you over to the 'squire; that's what we'll do with you. Catch hold of him, Josh."
His captor held fast to one arm, Josh took hold of the other, and Tom was marched off between them. Of course he pulled back, and tried hard to escape; but the stalwart young farmers walked him along without the least difficulty. When they reached the house, they pulled him up the steps that led to the porch, and opening a door, ushered him into the kitchen, where Tom found himself in the presence of the female portion of the farmer's family.
"Here's one of the rogues, mother," exclaimed Josh. "Sit down, and let's have a good look at you."
If Tom at that moment could have purchased his freedom by promising that he would give up his new idea, and leave the students in quiet possession of the Storm King, he would have done it, gladly. He sank into the chair Josh pointed out to him, and sat with his chin resting on his breast, and his eyes fastened on the floor, not daring to look up long enough to ascertain whether or not there was any one in the room with whom he was acquainted. He knew that half a dozen pairs of eyes were looking at him with curiosity; and he felt that if he had never before been utterly disgraced, he was now. No one spoke to him, and in a few minutes the silence became so oppressive that Tom would have welcomed a thunderstorm, or an earthquake. He twisted about in his chair, whirled his cap in his hand, and gazed steadily at a crack in the floor, until he was relieved by the noise of feet on the porch, which was followed by the entrance of the farmer, with the rest of the party who had been guarding the potato-patch. Then, for the first time, he mustered up courage enough to look around him. He noted two things – one was, that every person in the room was a stranger to him; and the other, that he had a companion in his misery, in the shape of his mate, who, unlike his superior officer, did not seem to be at all abashed at finding himself the center of so many eyes. He held his head up, and looked about him as if he felt quite at his ease.
"Well, we've got two of them," said the farmer, in a tone of great satisfaction, "and I guess we've frightened the others so badly that they'll let us alone in future. But how is this?" he added, glancing first at the rich man's son, and than at the ragged, bare-footed ferry-boy. "There must have been two parties of them."
"No, there wasn't," said Xury. "We all belong to one crowd."
"What's your name?" continued the farmer, addressing himself to the captain of the Crusoe band.
"O, now, I'm Tom – "
"Avast, there!" cried Xury, so suddenly that he startled every one in the room. "His name is Muley, mister – that's his name."
"Muley? Muley what?"
"Muley nothin' – just Muley. That's all the name he's got. My name is Xury, an' that's all the name I've got."
Tom was astonished at the impudence of his mate. He had been on the point of revealing every thing, for, now that he was a prisoner, he could not see the use of further concealment. According to his way of thinking, the expedition had been nipped in the bud, his splendid idea could not be carried out, and if the farmer had questioned him closely, he would have told him all about the Crusoe men and their hiding-place. It made no difference to Tom that he had promised to keep these things secret. He was in trouble, and all he cared for was to get out of it. Xury, however, was a very different sort of boy. He had promised never to reveal any of the secrets intrusted to his keeping, he had sealed the compact by shaking hands with his chief, and he would have endured almost any punishment before proving himself unworthy of the confidence of his fellows. Besides, he did not believe that the affairs of the band were so very desperate. He knew that the governor would never desert him, and as long as he and Tom remained on the island, there were some hopes that those of the band who had escaped would find means to effect their release.
"Of course I know that those are not your right names," said the farmer, at length, "but I am not particular about that, for when I take you to the village to-morrow, I can find out all about you. What did you intend to do with those potatoes?"
"Eat 'em," answered Xury. "What else does a feller do with taters?"
"Have you eaten all the fruit and vegetables you have stolen during the last week?"
"Sartin."
"Well, I'll put you where you won't steal any more to-night. Josh, you and Bill take them down cellar and leave them there with the rats."
"That don't scare me none," said Xury. "I never saw no rats yet I was afraid of. What will you do with us in the mornin', mister?"
"I intend to break up these midnight plundering expeditions, by making an example of you. I shall take you before 'Squire Thompson."
"What do you reckon he'll do with us?"
"He will put you in the House of Refuge for three or four years, most likely, and I think that would be a good place for you. Take them away, boys."
Josh lighted a candle and led the way into the cellar, followed by Tom and his mate, Bill bringing up the rear. While the young farmers were examining the windows and door, to make sure that their prisoners could not escape, Tom took a hurried survey of his quarters, which he found to be cheerless in the extreme. Three sides of the cellar were supplied with windows – narrow apertures, placed about as high as his head from the floor, and protected by stout iron bars which were set into the walls. On the fourth side was a heavy door, secured by a padlock. Tom took these things in at a glance, and quite agreed with Josh, when he said,
"Now, then, you young robbers, you are secure for the night."
"And I would advise you to keep quiet, and not go to kicking up any fuss down here," chimed in Bill. "If you feel like going to sleep, you can lie down on those boxes."
Josh and Bill took their departure, and the Crusoe men were left to their meditations, and to the companionship of the rats. Tom heard them close and lock the door at the head of the stairs, and, groping his way to a box in one corner of the cellar, he sat down to think over his situation; while Xury, whistling softly to himself, began an examination of the windows. This coolness and indifference amazed Tom, who could not understand how a boy, with the prospect before him of serving out a term of years in the House of Refuge, could take matters so easily.
"O, now, quit that whistling," drawled Tom, who found it hard work to keep back his tears.
"What fur?" demanded Xury. "There's no use of bein' down in the mouth, cap'n. Scoldin' an' frettin' won't help us none."
"Did any body ever see so unlucky a boy as I am? Other fellows get along through the world without any trouble, but something is always happening to bother me. To-morrow morning I shall be taken back to the village."
"Well, I sha'n't. I aint goin' back to Newport till the governor says the word."
"But those men up stairs will make you go," drawled Tom.
"They'll have to find me first, won't they? If they think they can keep a Crusoe man in this cellar all night, they'll find out their mistake in the mornin'. They'll go to bed before long, an' then we'll see what we can do."
As Xury said this, he stretched himself out on the box beside his captain, and settling into a comfortable position, waited patiently for the farmer and his family to retire to rest. He expected to be free before morning; and, as his examination had satisfied him that he could not effect his escape without assistance, he was depending entirely upon the governor. Had he known what was going on at that moment, a short distance from the house, he might not have had so much faith in the chief's ability to release him.
Sam, Jack Spaniard, Friday, and Will Atkins, more fortunate than their fellows, succeeded in eluding their pursuers, and met on the bluff, above the cove, and sat down to rest after their long run, and to talk over the events of the night. The governor reported the capture of Tom and his mate. He was but a short distance from them when they were overtaken, although he did not know who the unlucky ones were, until he met the band on the cliff. The Crusoe men were dismayed when they learned the extent of their loss, and some of them were strongly in favor of abandoning their enterprise. Will Atkins, especially, was very much disheartened, and urged his companions to return to the village at once.
"The jig is up now, fellers," said he, "an' I, fur one, am goin' home. Tommy an' Xury are captured, an' the first thing we know, we may be gobbled up, too. An' even if we aint, we four fellers can't rob Mr. Henry's store, an' take the Sweepstakes besides."
"Now, Atkins, who asked you fur any advice?" demanded the governor, angrily. "The expedition aint dead yet, even if two of us have fallen into the hands of the enemy. As soon as we get rested we'll go up to the house, an' if we can find out where the cap'n an' Xury are, we'll help 'em."
"I've run risks enough," returned the discontented member. "I just aint a goin' up to the house."
"What's that you say?" exclaimed the chief, astonished and enraged to hear his authority thus set at defiance.
"I say I sha'n't go up to the house," repeated Atkins, decidedly; "an' I mean it."
"Why, you wouldn't have us to leave them two fellers without once tryin' to help 'em, would you?"
"I don't care what you do. You can do as you please, an' so will I."
"Now, Atkins, have you forgot them lessons I have given you? If you don't look out I'll have to larn you a few more. You're gettin' to be mighty sassy, lately."
"You can't scare me none, governor, fur I aint alone like I used to be. I've got at least one good friend in the band. Jack, you'll stand by me."
"I will," replied Jack Spaniard, who arose from the rock where he had been sitting, and walked over to the side of the mutineer. "You see, governor," he added, "me an' Atkins have got tired of doin' all the work. You never let us have things our way at all, an' we aint a goin' to stand it no longer. If you want to help the cap'n an' Xury you can do it yourself."
The governor listened to this speech in silence. He had been expecting a demonstration of this kind from Atkins, but he was not prepared for so decided an opposition to his authority. Atkins had long shown a disposition to make trouble in the band, and during the last three days he had been more disorderly than ever. The governor had often heard him grumbling to himself, and he had made up his mind to whip all the rebellious spirit out of him at the first good opportunity. That opportunity was now presented; but Sam did not think it safe to attempt to carry out his resolve. Atkins was backed up by Jack Spaniard, and with his aid, he was likely to prove more than a match for the redoubtable bully. If Tom and his mate had been there to assist him, he could have crushed the rebellion in short order.
"Of all the mean things that have happened in the band since I got to be governor, this yere is the beat," said Sam, after a moment's pause. "You two fellers promised, not more'n two weeks ago, to obey all orders, an' to stand by your friends, if they got into trouble; an' now you are goin' back on your word. There aint no honor about such fellers as you be. Friday, whose side are you on?"
"On your'n, governor; I don't think we shall ever see our island now, but I'll stick to you as long as any body does."
"All right!" exclaimed the chief, immensely relieved. "Jack Spaniard, you're always been a good, law-abidin' man, an' if you'll come away from that feller, I won't say nothin' to you; I'll let you off easy. An' you, Atkins, you've been spilin' fur a good drubbin', an' the only way you can escape it, is by sayin' that you'll tend to your duty, an' obey orders like a man had oughter do. Let's hear from you."
"I won't do duty," replied Atkins, sullenly.
Jack Spaniard hesitated a moment before he answered. He knew that those who had dared to oppose the governor, had thus far been brought to grief, and he was almost inclined to take him at his word, and leave Atkins to fight his own battles. But he had been highly incensed by the new rules Tom had introduced into the society, and, believing that he was as good as any body, he did not like to be obliged to act the part of a servant. More than that, the events of the night had dampened his ardor. He began to see that there were a multitude of risks to be run, and a good many obstacles to be overcome, before they could begin their intended cruise, and he thought it policy to abandon the enterprise before he found himself in serious trouble.
"Me an' Atkins will stick together," said he.
"Very good," replied the chief; "an' you an' Atkins may make up your minds to sup sorrow with the same spoon. I am governor of this band, an' I'll come out at the top of the heap yet; now you mark what I say. What are you goin' to do?"
"We're goin' into the cove after our share of the outfit," replied Will Atkins. "When we get it, we're goin back to the village. Come on, Jack; we've wasted time enough in talkin'."
The two mutineers began to descend the cliff, keeping their eyes fastened on the governor, and holding themselves in readiness to resist any attack; but, to Friday's surprise, Sam made no attempt to detain them.
CHAPTER VI.
THE GOVERNOR'S STRATEGY
When Atkins and his companion had disappeared down the path that led to the cove, Sam placed his hands behind his back, and began pacing thoughtfully to and fro, while Friday, dismayed and perplexed by this unlooked-for event, and utterly unable to discover any way out of the difficulty, stretched himself on the ground and waited for the chief to speak.
The affairs of the band were certainly beginning to look desperate. With two of his best men in the hands of the enemy, two more setting his authority at defiance, and with only one companion upon whom to depend, what could the governor do? A less determined and persevering boy would have given up in despair; but Sam, who, since the idea of leading Crusoe life had been suggested to him, had thought and dreamed about nothing else, was not easily discouraged. He was resolved that he would not abandon the course of action which had been determined on by the band a few days before; but he could not carry it out unless assisted by the two mutineers, and, as they could not be coaxed to listen to reason, they must be compelled. He would punish them for their disobedience, and show them, once for all, that his authority could not be resisted with impunity.
"Friday," said he, "I'll never forget you fur this night's work. You've got the best name of any of us, an' so has Will Atkins. The Friday the book tells about stuck to Crusoe like a brother, an' Atkins done nothin' but study up meanness an' mischief. Our Atkins is doin' the same thing; but he won't make nothin', no more'n the one he's named after did. He'll be glad enough to come to terms by mornin', now you see if he aint. We don't intend to let him an' Jack Spaniard go back to the village to blow on us, an' the first thing to be done is to fasten 'em in the cove, so that we can find 'em when we want 'em."
"How are we goin' to do it?" asked Friday.
"We'll take down the bridge," replied the governor, with a chuckle, "an' then let's see 'em get out. They don't know the channels across the shoals, so, of course, they won't dare to try to sail out; an' after the bridge is gone, there's only one way they can get across the gully. I'll larn 'em how to get up a mutiny."
The chief, after lighting his lantern, led the way down the path, and presently came to a halt on the brink of the chasm. Atkins and Jack Spaniard having crossed it a few minutes before, the rope was on the opposite side, and Friday could see no way to obtain possession of it.
"I'll tell you how I am goin' to manage it," said the governor, in answer to an inquiring glance from his companion. "I told you there is one way to get across, even after the bridge is gone, didn't I? Well, do you see this tree here? It leans over the gully, an' one of its limbs runs into the tree on the opposite side that the rope is made fast to."
Friday elevated his lantern and gazed up into the darkness, but could see nothing more than a dense canopy of leaves and branches hanging over the chasm. He shuddered at the thought of attempting to cross on so frail a bridge. "I wouldn't go up there fur nothin'," said he, "an' I wouldn't advise you to try it, either."
"Well, it aint the pleasantest job in the world," replied Sam, carelessly, "but I know just where the limb is, an' I am sure I can cross on it. Howsomever, I am free to confess, that if I could think of any other way to get the rope, I wouldn't try it."
"If you can cross that way, what's the reason that Will Atkins an' Jack Spaniard can't do it too?" inquired Friday.
"'Cause, after I get over an' come back, nobody will ever cross the gully that way again. We'll pull the limb down. Now, you hold the lantern up high an' give me all the light you can. It's mighty dark up there, an' I don't care about missin' my hold an' fallin down on them rocks."
The chief scrambled up the cliff to the tree of which he had spoken, and began to ascend it. He worked his way up with the agility of a squirrel, and presently disappeared from the view of his man below. When he came in sight again, he was on the limb that stretched out over the chasm, and which was bending and cracking beneath his weight in a manner that made Friday extremely nervous. But Sam resolutely held on his way, and finally swung himself safely into the branches of the tree on the opposite side. After securing the rope, he threw one end of it to Friday, made the other fast to the limb on which he had crossed the gully, and a few moments afterward he slid down the bluff and seated himself on the ground beside his companion, to recover his breath.
"I'll show them fellers what they are about," said he, wiping the big drops of perspiration from his face. "I'll larn 'em how to get up a mutiny, after promisin', honor bright, to obey all orders. Now, if we've got muscle enough to break that limb, we are all right."
"Couldn't Atkins make a bridge, by cuttin' down one of them trees?" asked Friday.
"No, he couldn't. The trees on that side won't fall across the gully, 'cause they all lean the other way. Ketch hold, now, an' pull fur life."
The governor and his man grasped the ropes, and, exerting all their strength, suddenly found themselves lying flat in the path. The limb, unable to resist the strain brought to bear upon it, parted with a noise like the report of a cannon, and fell crashing into the gully, carrying with it a perfect avalanche of rocks and earth which it detached from the opposite bluff. That bridge was destroyed, and there was no way of escape for the mutineers.
The next thing was to untie the rope from the limb which lay at the bottom of the chasm. The only way it could be accomplished was for one of the Crusoe men to go down into the gully, and this Friday volunteered to do. Accordingly, the end of the rope which they held in their hands was made fast to the nearest tree, and Friday, after tying the lantern around his waist, descended out of sight. In a few minutes he re-appeared, climbing the rope, which was pulled up and hidden away in the bushes.
"That job is done," said the chief, with a long breath of relief, "an' them two fellers are fastened up as tight as if they were in jail. I'll larn 'em how to get up a mutiny!"
"But, governor, how will we get across?" asked Friday.
"Easy enough. One of us will climb up an' make one end of the rope fast to this tree that leans over the gully, an' we'll swing back an' forth just as we did before. The next job we've got to do aint so easy. It's one I don't like; but, if I was a prisoner, I'd think it mighty mean of my men if they deserted me, an' I'm goin' to do to the cap'n an' Xury just as I'd like to be done by."
The governor and his man ascended to the top of the bluff, and bent their steps toward the farm-house, which was now shrouded in total darkness. The inmates had all retired to rest, happy in the belief that those of the band who had escaped had made the best of their way to the village, and that their potato-patch was safe for the rest of the night. But the Crusoe men, apprehensive that the farmer might still be on the watch, were at first very cautious in their movements. They walked around the house several times without seeing any signs of the enemy, and, growing bolder by degrees, began to search the out-buildings, hoping that Tom and his mate might be confined in one of them. But their efforts to ascertain the whereabouts of their unlucky companions were unrewarded, and, after half an hour's fruitless search, even Sam began to get discouraged.
"Mebbe they have taken them to the village already," he whispered, leaning disconsolately against a corner of the house. "If they have, the expedition is up stump, easy enough, an' we can bid good-by to all hopes of ever seein' our island. What's that? Didn't you hear some one call?"
"I thought I did," replied Friday, "but I wasn't sartin'."
"I say, governor, are you deaf? Look this way. Here we are."
The words seemed to come from the ground at their very feet; and the governor and Friday heard them plainly enough this time. Their attention was drawn to one of the cellar windows, and there they saw the two prisoners, with their faces pressed close against the bars.
"What are you doin' down there?" asked Friday, in an excited whisper. "Are you locked up?"
"I reckon," replied Xury. "We wouldn't stay here if we wasn't, would we?"
"O, now, yes, we're locked up," drawled Tom, who, delighted as he was at seeing the chief, could not forget his lazy way of talking. "But you are going to let us out, are you not?"
"Sartin. That's what we come here fur, an' we'll do it if we have to burn the shantee."
"You needn't go to all that trouble, governor," said Xury. "Do you see that door around there on the other side of the house?"
Sam walked around the building, and when he came back, he said that he had seen the door.
"Well," continued Xury, "all you have got to do is to raise a rumpus out there, an' awaken the people up stairs."
"Humph!" sneered Sam.
"Hold on till I get through, governor. Of course, when they hear you, they'll come out an' foller you; an' when the men have all left the house, one of you can slip back an' cut down that door an' let us out. Here's an ax to do it with," he added, passing the implement through the window to the chief.
"That's a good idea, after all," said Sam.
"Friday, you take the ax, an' I'll do the runnin'. I'll lead the fellers toward the beach, an' you stay here an' watch your chance to beat down that door. How many folks are there in the house, Xury?"
"Ten altogether – six men an' boys, an' four women," was the reply. "I know, 'cause I counted 'em."