Ned, after the receipt of the message authorizing him to open his orders, lost no time in hastening below.
Herc, as his junior officer, went with him. Kenworth was ordered out of his cabin and told off to assume charge of the after-watch, an assignment on which Ned was sure the evilly disposed midshipman could not do any harm.
In the meantime, the ship was steaming slowly down the Sound in charge of one of the junior warrant officers.
Now for the big secret, exclaimed Ned, as he opened his desk and took out the slender package. "We'll step into the wardroom to look it over, Herc."
Look out, somebody may have put a bomb in it while we were gone, warned Herc, leaning over Ned's shoulder, a look of intense interest on his freckled countenance.
Hardly any danger of that, I think, laughed Ned.
He ripped open the envelope, glanced hastily at the first sheet of the numerous typewritten pages it contained, and gave vent to a low whistle.
Well, what do you think of that? gasped Herc. "I thought we were to——"
Obey orders, said Ned quietly; "although I must admit this is a bit of a surprise. I suppose a change in plans came late so that we were not forewarned."
Well, let's hear what it is all about, prompted Herc impatiently.
"Simple enough, apparently. The army folks are protecting the mouth of the harbor. There are important fortifications there, because in time of war the protecting fleet, or part of it, might gather there. The army folks have planted mines there. While watching for the Blue fleet to arrive, we are to test those mines.""
"Phew! gasped Herc. "There's only one way to test how much kick there is to a mine."
And what's that? asked Ned.
To blow it up and—yourself with it, declared Herc sententiously. "Well, for a nice little holiday job, we have sure picked a dandy."
Hold on a minute, will you? interrupted Ned. "Let me finish this. The mines are wired up by a new system. What we have to find out is if we can sneak into the harbor mouth in our submarines and disconnect the firing wires of the mines without blowing ourselves up. If we can do this, the system is a failure."
Humph! and so are we.
So are we what?
Failures! If one of these mines blew up, what else would we be——
Ned exploded in a loud laugh.
Why, you chump, he exclaimed, "they are not loaded mines!"
Then how can they tell if they've been exploded or not when we go submarining around them?
It's up to us to see if we can dodge the wires or contrive some way to disconnect them.
That disconnecting idea doesn't appear very feasible.
No, it does not, agreed Ned; "but I think I can find a way to evade them, for all that."
Hum! So long as they're not loaded, I don't care even if we run bumpety-bang into one, declared Herc; "but a loaded mine—no, thank you!"
Our orders after that are general. We are to use our own discretion entirely, acting as the eyes and ears of the Red fleet, and forwarding to the flagship, via wireless, every scrap of information we think might be valuable to the attacking party.
That's one thing I don't like about this command, muttered Herc.
What is that?
Why, we're supposed to be enemies to the flag.
But only supposed to be, Herc, for the purposes of perfecting the strength of Uncle Sam's defenses, and playing a useful part in exposing any weakness in our nation's fortifications.
Huh; well, that's all the kind of enemy I ever want to be—a supposed one.
I'm going into my cabin to lay out our course, said Ned, after a few more words. "I want you on deck, Herc, to see how things are going on. It won't take me long and—— What on earth is the matter? Got a stroke?"
There was a large glass skylight over the wardroom and, owing to the warmth of the weather, the flaps of this had been raised. With the expression of one who has been suddenly hypnotized, Herc was staring with open eyes and mouth straight up at the wardroom roof.
What do you see? demanded Ned, springing to his feet. "Shall I get you a glass of water? Shall I——"
Umph! You might get me a gun, snorted Herc.
A gun! What on earth do you want with a gun?
I want it to shoot a skunk!
A skunk! Do you think you're back on the farm?
No, but just the same I'd like to go gunning with grandpap's old scatter gun.
I wish we had a doctor on board, Herc. Any fellow who can go around seeing skunks——
Ought to shoot 'em on sight, muttered Herc belligerently. "Well, Ned, this was a skunk I saw, all right, all right! And what do you think his name was?"
Without waiting for a reply, Herc rushed on, "Kenworth! He'd been listening to every word we were saying!"
For the time being there was no opportunity to investigate the case of the eavesdropper. It was important that they should get under way at once. Herc hastened on deck after a few hurried words with Ned.
Just at that moment two bells—one o'clock—sounded in the slow, deep, mellow tones of the ship's bell. Simultaneously there appeared, through a doorway at one end of the wardroom, the figure of a dapper Japanese, dressed in white garments.
Hullo! Who are you? demanded Ned, looking up from a reverie into which he had fallen, following Herc's departure.
Me Saki. Officer steward. Me getee lunch for honorable capitan, rejoined the Jap with a low bow.
Mr. Summerville made no mention to me of you, said Ned, looking the Jap over.
No doubt, sir, no doubt, was the reply; "me only joinee ship in New York."
Ned said no more, but, telling the steward to summon him when the meal was ready, he resumed his meditations. Truly the young skipper of the Seneca was in need of time to think and ponder.
This command of his, of which he had been so proud, evidently was not going to prove any sinecure. Then, somehow, the face of the Jap floated before his mind. He had seen it somewhere before, he was certain. Perhaps it was on some other naval craft, for Japanese stewards are much affected in the United States Navy.
It was a striking face, too: thick, bushy hair brushed up above a massive forehead, far squarer and more prominent than Jap's foreheads usually are, forming a sort of bristly aureole for a yellow face with dark, forbidding eyebrows and a heavy jaw. Saki was not a common type of Jap. He was heavier, less obsequious and smiling, more sure of himself.
But such thoughts quickly flitted from Ned's mind as the problem of Kenworth put itself forward. Mated with this reflection came the image of Rankin. Both were men who disliked and, in one case at least, hated Ned and Herc.
True, Rankin had no cause but a purely unreasonable one—as it were—for his antipathy to the young captain of the Seneca and his first officer, but it was none the less plain, even without taking the overheard conversation on the bridge into account, that the man had made up his mind to do all the harm he could.
How soon he would strike, of course, Ned had no idea; nor what form his malice would take. That Ned had concluded that Kenworth had purposely run upon the shoal, we already know, but with how much justice he had arrived at such a deduction, he could not determine.
The course was soon worked out and Ned proceeded to the chart house. He summoned Herc and gave him his sailing directions, and then proceeded to make an inspection of the ship. On his return from this duty, he suddenly recollected that he had left the door of his stateroom unlocked.
He descended the stairs swiftly and almost noiselessly. As he reached the foot of them, he saw a form suddenly emerge from his cabin and glide silently as a cat across the wardroom in the direction of the stern door, where he knew the steward's cabin and pantry, as well as the store-room, were located.
Who's that? he called in a sharp, authoritative voice.
That you, Mr. Capitan, sir? came in Saki's voice. "Me just go by your cabin, tell you lunch is ready, sir."
Very well. Come here, Saki.
Yes, sir, rejoined Saki, hurrying back and bowing low.
You must never enter my cabin, do you understand? That's private ground except when I am in it. And Saki.
Honorable naval mister. Saki again bowed low, spreading his hands.
Have I ever seen you before?
I have never had the felicity of looking upon the honorable capitan's face.
Very well. You may call Ensign Taylor. For Ned and Herc, as befitted their respective ranks on board the Seneca, ate their meals in solitary state.
Midshipman Kenworth and the other warrant officers followed them. Such was the strict etiquette of the navy, even on so small a craft as the Seneca.
Funny, thought Ned, "it's odd, but I can't get it out of my head that I have seen him before somewhere. Jove! I have it! It was at Nagasaki, on the world cruise. He was found examining guns and firing systems on board the Manhattan. As he could give no satisfactory account of himself, he was ejected. I'm sure it's the same man. I wonder——"
But the entrance of Herc put a stop to further speculation. Saki waited on them during the meal with silent dexterity. Once or twice Ned sought a chance to study his face without being observed, but every time he found that the Jap's eyes were fixed on him, although quickly averted when the Oriental saw that he was being noticed.
After lunch he took an opportunity to make some inquiries concerning the Jap, and learned that he had come on board at New York, as he had said. Midshipman Kenworth was believed to have secured him, the Jap having been highly recommended as a servant by a relative of the former.
Kenworth, again, muttered Ned to himself. "It's odd, very odd, how he is always bobbing up. Jove," he broke off suddenly, "I never thought to overhaul that desk of mine. The way that Jap came out of there like a rabbit out of a hole was suspicious, to say the least. I'll go below and have a look."
But a narrow inspection of the cabin showed that nothing had been disturbed. Carefully Ned locked up his orders in his desk, and when he went out, secured the door.
All right this time, but it's a risk I don't want to chance again, he said to himself as he ascended to the bridge. "Somehow I don't trust that Jap, any more than I do those other fellows."
By mid-afternoon the Seneca was well down the Sound. Several times she was in communication with the Red flagship, but no further orders came to Trevor, who was at the key.
Nor had the flagship heard anything of the whereabouts of the Blues. It was generally believed that they had rallied off the Virginia Capes and were playing a game of hide-and-seek with their opponents.
Ned knew the spot to which he had been directed for the mine test very well. Already he had planned just how he would proceed. From the mainland at this point there runs out a long finger of land, on one end of which is perched Fort Schuyler.
It was his intention to leave the Seneca anchored in a bay far up the Sound and then proceed on one of the submarines, under cover of night, himself commanding the diving boat. But when they had almost reached the snug bay that Ned had decided upon as a good anchoring place for a craft on such an errand, Trevor hastened out of his wireless box with a message in the secret code.
Ned took it below and speedily read it off. He made a wry face of chagrin as he did so. It appeared that other work than going down with the submarine had been laid out for him. He was to get ashore somehow, land on the neck in the early morning, and make certain observations of the work of the diving boat.
Pshaw! exclaimed Ned to himself; "too bad! I don't see the object of it all, but I suppose they know best. Well, Herc will have to take command of the submarine, of course, and I will have to do what's laid out for me."
His mind at once began to busy itself with plans for the morrow's work when Trevor suddenly interrupted again. There had been a mistake in transmitting the details of the last message, it appeared.
The submarine was not to make the tests the next day at all. Through other sources the flagship had learned that the mines had not yet been laid. Ned was to contrive to be on the watch during the process and note carefully where each was planted from a quartermaster's department tug. This was very important, as the mines were to be laid just as they would be for actual defenses. When Ned had secured all this information, the submarine test would come. If they succeeded in dodging the torpedoes, it would be several points for the Red side.
When they reached the bay that Ned had in mind, the Seneca was guided inside, and then, while her crew speculated as to what the next move could possibly be, she lay swinging at her anchor, idly waiting for darkness to fall. For Ned had decided not to let his crew know of the plans. Herc, of course, was familiar with them, but none of the others, except Trevor, the wireless operator.
It was not long before dusk when Midshipman Kenworth presented himself before Ned. He saluted respectfully and appeared much more obsequious than he had been since the arrival of the boys on board.
Beg your pardon, sir, he asked, "but would there be any objection to my going ashore to-night? Some of my people live at Oakhurst, about nine miles inland, and I'd like to take this opportunity of seeing them."
Ned thought a moment. Then he decided that if Kenworth was spying about the Seneca with the object of injuring her young skipper, the further off he was during the next day the better.
Very well, Kenworth, said he, "you may go, but be sure to report on board to-morrow night at four bells."
Yes, sir, said the midshipman, saluting. He turned away and not long after reappeared on deck with his suit case. The shore boat was ordered away and was soon skimming off over the water.
Confound the fellow, said Ned to Herc as they watched the craft making its way over the bay, "I didn't want to let him go; but after all, I'd rather have his room than his company any day."
I'd have kept him aboard and worked him up to the king's taste, said Herc with positiveness. "I've no more use for him than I have for a snake in the grass, or for what I compared him to before."
After all, though, there is no possible way he could injure us, declared Ned. "Such fellows as he is generally end by hurting themselves more than the folks they have it in for."
That may all be as true as a preacher's words, Ned, declared Herc, "but we owe it to ourselves to look out for him."
Oh, that part of it is all right. But come on now, I'm going to get ready for the trip that I'm going to take to-night myself.
I wish I were going with you, said Herc.
Just think, you'll be able to lord it over the ship as a skipper all the time I'm gone, laughed Ned.
I'm afraid a skipper with a red head won't get as much respect as you do, Ned, but I'll do my best.
After dark that night, Ned, clothed in an old suit of civilian clothes, and carrying in a small handbag some necessary instruments and a sketch block for recording his impressions, clambered down into the gig and was rowed ashore by two members of the crew who had been sworn to secrecy.
Once ashore, where there was a community of summer cottages and hotels, he engaged a gasoline launch to take him to a small island known as Civic Island, not far from the Neck, to which it was joined, in fact, by a bridge.
Going ashore at Civic Island, Ned turned in at a hotel and early in the morning rose, secured some provisions which he placed in his small handbag, and then set out on foot for the scene of his observations.
The Neck was a lonely place and very little frequented. On one end of it was the fort, between which and some wooded heights in which it terminated, stretched the sandy, brush-covered peninsula of the Neck, scrawny and thin as that of a giraffe.
Ned was provided with field glasses, of course, and having reached a point from which he could command a clear view of the fort, he surveyed it for some time to get his bearings. Meanwhile, of course, he concealed his body behind some bushes.
He could see the tug perfectly plainly. There was a big crane at its bow and it was hoisting on board large metallic shapes of globular form that he knew were mines.
At the top of the mast floated the flag of the quartermaster's department, so that Ned knew that he had the right craft spotted.
Well, they are in no hurry, anyhow, he said to himself, as he watched the leisurely way in which the craft was being loaded. "I reckon I'll sit down and take a rest. I didn't sleep much at that hotel last night, and I'd be glad of a seat in the shade. I can keep my eyes open just as well under this bush here as standing out there in the sun."
But alas for good intentions! As he cast himself down in the shade, Ned appeared to slip gently out of the present and into the land of Nod. How long he slept he had no idea. But it could not have been very long, for when he opened his eyes again the tug, loaded with the big, black bulks of the submarine mines, was just leaving the fort.
Gracious! Lucky I woke up in time! A fine thing it would have been if I had blissfully slept right on! exclaimed Ned to himself in mortified tones.
He jumped to his feet. The next instant he threw himself just as hastily down again.
He was not alone on the Neck. Not far off was a figure intently watching the tug as it slowly steamed out from the dock.
Reconnoitering cautiously from his point of vantage behind the bush, Ned could not suppress a start of surprise.
There was something familiar about the figure of the fellow he was watching. Could it be——? Ned rubbed his eyes and looked again. Then his lips came together in a firm, thin line. His eyes hardened and his hands clenched.
The infernal rascal! he muttered.
He had not been mistaken when he thought he recognized the figure that was watching the tug as, with its crane stretched out like a long pointing finger, it steamed out into the center of the bay.
It was Midshipman Kenworth—Kenworth, whom he supposed was visiting his relatives far inshore. Yet here he was in civilian clothes on this lonesome, sandy spit of land, apparently as much interested in the movements of the army tug as Ned himself.
What could be the solution of the mystery? Why had Kenworth come there?
A sinister thought flashed into Ned's mind. The next instant suspicion became conviction. He saw Kenworth draw out a pair of binoculars and focus them on the moving tug. Then the midshipman cast himself down into a sandy hollow, over the breast of which he pointed his binoculars at the tug.
So-o-o-o! That's your little game, is it! breathed Ned disgustedly. "You're even blacker than I thought you, Kenworth. I guess I'll take a hand in this thing myself. Bagging a traitor to Uncle Sam, and one who is entitled to wear the uniform of an officer and a gentleman at that, ought to be even more important than a chart of the mine positions."
Between the two, like a series of billows, stretched wave-like sand dunes. They were covered with a scant growth of wind-tortured beach plum and stiff, spiky sea grass.
But yet the growth, scant as it was, afforded a certain amount of cover. Ned's mind was soon made up as to the course he would pursue. At all hazards, it was important to catch Kenworth red-handed.
And yet, what can his motive be? wondered Ned to himself. "I can't conceive his purpose. He cannot be making his plans and observations for the benefit of the Blue fleet. If he dared offer them there, he would be booted over the flagship's side in two shakes. No, there is something under all this that I haven't fathomed. But I will."
Ned's firm chin closed on his jaw with a snap. With stern purpose in his eyes, the young follower of the flag began to creep forward over the billowing sand dunes.
His progress was slow, for although in the hollows he had no fear of being seen, yet when he breasted a rise he had to be careful. It was when he had attained the summit of one of these sandy acclivities that Ned noticed that the tug had come to a standstill.
The crane arm swung inboard and one of the mines, looking like a huge black shoe button, was slowly hoisted from the pile on the deck. Then through the still air came the rattling sound of chains and the shrieking whir of the steam winch as the mine was lowered.
From this, Ned turned his attention once more to Kenworth. The midshipman was squatting down in his hollow now, and with a note book on his knees, was recording some sort of observations.
Risking detection, Ned centered his binoculars on that note book. What he saw through the powerful lenses caused him to flush angrily. Kenworth was making, not without considerable draughtsman's skill, a sketch map of the whole situation.
Oh! you miserable wretch! exclaimed Ned, gritting his teeth. "I'd give a whole lot to get my hands on you for about five minutes, and that's just what I'm going to do, too."
All unconscious of the concealed watcher, Kenworth sketched on. He actually appeared to take a pride in his work, from time to time holding it at arm's length as if to get a better perspective upon it. Then from his pocket he took a small camera, and made some pictures of the two forts and the stretch of water between.
Great heavens! He's risking the loss of his commission, exclaimed Ned to himself as he saw. "There must be some uncommon motive behind all this to make him take such chances. What can it be?"
The tug was moving now, crawling like some ungainly black bug across the shimmering water.
Once more the anchor rumbled down, and again the crane poised, swooped, and deposited another of the globular black objects, piled on the fore-deck, in the water.
Ned, watching Kenworth intently, saw him place a surveyor's instrument to his eye, no doubt to make a rough calculation of the exact spot of the planting. Following a few seconds' observation through this, he jotted down some more notes in his book.
He's taking pains to be quite accurate, thought Ned. "He goes about his work as if it were some honorable duty he was engaged upon. I wonder how he knew about the mine planting, though? Can it be possible that he heard the message coming over the wireless, or in some manner gained access to a copy of it?"
Loyalty to his flag and country was the Dreadnought Boy's ruling passion. The sight of Kenworth, engaged upon what Ned was certain could only be treacherous work, sent a flame that seethed like a white-hot blast through his frame.
Again he moved forward, but faster now. Kenworth, all unconscious that another was creeping up on him, resumed his seat in the hollow and went on with the touching up of his rough drawings.
Ned was close upon him now. Through the grass he glided along like a snake.
But the rustle of some of the stiff grass behind him, or the fall of a miniature cascade of sand into his hollow, must have suddenly apprised Kenworth that somebody was in the vicinity.
He sprang to his feet and looked about him. At the same instant something leaped through the air with the speed of a thunderbolt.
With a roar of rage, Ned had sprung the instant that he saw that discovery was inevitable.
A sharp exclamation broke from Kenworth.
You fool, I was prepared for you!
Simultaneously something flashed bright in his hand, glinting in the sunlight.
The next instant Ned felt a hot flash of fire in his face and the stinging of a shower of needles. He staggered back, his hands to his eyes, as Kenworth, with a cry of triumph, sprang toward the Dreadnought Boy's reeling figure.
That's the time I got you, Mister Strong! he exclaimed.
But his triumph was just a little bit premature. The bullet from the revolver which Kenworth had so handy had only grazed Ned's cheek. It was the powder grains that had stung him like red-hot points.
The next instant he had recovered from his temporary smoke blindness. As Kenworth jumped for him, Ned sprang at the other. As he did so, his arms shot out and Kenworth's pistol went flying through the air.
Then Ned's strong hands seized the other's wrists with the force of steel handcuffs.
Confound you! roared Kenworth. "I didn't get you, did I?"
Not just yet, panted Ned, "nor for some time to come. You're my prisoner, and if you don't want to accompany me quietly I'll find means to make you."
Kenworth's reply was an odd one. He uttered a peculiar whistle.
Now what's that for? wondered Ned. The question had hardly taken shape in his mind before it was answered, and in a surprising manner.
A loop was thrown over him, he fell forward, and his arms were pinioned by an irresistible force to his side, while a knee pressed into the small of his back.
Honorable capitan lie quiet? No? came a voice in his ear.
It's Saki! Let me go instantly, demanded Ned.
A soft, gurgling laugh was the rejoinder.
Yes, me Saki all right, honorable capitan; but no can let you go. You lie down lilly while.
With a trick that Ned recognized as one employed by the jiu-jitsu expert he had vanquished in the Far East, the yellow-skinned rascal, as he spoke, threw Ned sprawling on his back on the sand. Before he could make any defense another loop was slipped over his legs.
Help! shouted the boy. "Help! Help!"
There was a chance that his voice might carry to the distant tug.
Ah! That velly bad to make noise, honorable sir, came Saki's soft voice, and into the struggling lad's mouth was thrust a not over-clean rag.
Effectually silenced now, Ned lay there with blazing eyes. He was beaten, as he realized with a bitter feeling at his heart. Saki and Kenworth were in league, as he had half guessed before.
Kenworth's harsh laugh made him turn his eyes in that worthy's direction.
Well, how do you like it, eh? he chuckled. "And you thought you could overreach me and give me orders, did you? Just take that!"
The young ruffian swung a fist crashingly into his helpless victim's face. Again and again he struck, while Saki stood by, grinning. But suddenly the Jap interfered.
That plenty for now. We finish our work. Then maybe soon we go way lilly while. Come back night time. Takee honorable capitan nice hotel.
The yellow man broke into a laugh as he spoke, and Kenworth, flushed and vicious from his display of vindictive fury, ceased belaboring Ned. He turned again to his sketch book and spy glasses. Saki took the opportunity to retrieve the pistol, which he handed back to Kenworth.
Maybe good thing you not better shot, he chuckled, with sinister meaning.
The wind blew his coat aside as he stooped over, and Ned saw that, pinned within it, the Jap had a peculiar decoration. Ned knew what it was. He had seen similar ones in the Far East on the world cruise.
It was the badge denoting that the wearer belonged to Samurai, or warrior caste of Japan. It also was conferred as a decoration on certain leaders after the Russo-Japanese war.
This Saki, then, was not the ship's steward, as he had been masquerading. Instead, he was a soldier and a veteran, and evidently, too, of high rank.
The whole thing came over Ned in a flash. What a fool he had been not to see through the plot before. The Jap, whose creature Kenworth plainly was, had seized the opportunity of the great naval maneuvers to smuggle himself into the midst of things and secure information about Uncle Sam's fighting ships and war methods that he could have gained in no other way.
The careful maps that Kenworth was drawing were destined to be sent across the Pacific, for what purpose Ned could guess. He turned eyes that blazed slow fires of contempt upon Kenworth.
The latter laughed harshly.
Thinking you'd like to nail me, aren't you? he sneered. "But you'd have to get up a little earlier in the morning to do that. We knew every one of your plans long ago. Saki got them in your cabin——"
The Japanese held up a warning hand.
No talk any more. Hurry up your map, he urged.
Pshaw! what harm does it do to tell him a few wholesome truths? snarled Kenworth. "He's had a swelled head too long altogether. This is the time that he learns he's not as smart as he thinks, by a whole lot."
But he regarded the Jap's hint and addressed no more remarks to Ned. The Dreadnought Boy lay on the hot sands with an ardent sun burning down upon him. But he was careful to give no sign of suffering, although his thirst was beginning to be excessive.
As if he knew this, and delighted in torturing the helpless lad, Saki, from time to time, drew out an elaborately chased bottle and drank from it with much satisfaction.
Ah! nice, cool. Veree nice, he would say, smacking his lips and proffering it to Kenworth. "Lemonade, veree good 'Merican drink."
But Ned, without the quiver of an eyelid, lay gazing up into the blazing firmament, although his throat felt as if it were cracking from a drought of centuries.
The sun grew hotter and hotter. From the whirring of winches and the clanking rattle of chains that was borne shoreward from time to time, Ned knew that the work of mine-laying was still going on. The work he had been sent to report!
What would be thought of him by his superiors? He felt that it was doubtful if they would believe his story, even supposing he ever got back to his ship and was able to tell it.
He wondered what his captors meant to do with him. Reasoning it out, he had not much fear that they would attempt any desperate course, but they were certain to place him where he could not give the alarm and cause their pursuit before they had had an opportunity to get clear away.
Mingled with these reflections came others. Ned speculated vainly as to how long this treachery had been going on. Probably for some time; Kenworth's note book appeared well filled. Doubtless he had become disgusted with what he deemed the unfair treatment accorded him in the navy, and had fallen an easy prey to the foreign agents who are constantly trying to discover for their countries the secrets of Uncle Sam's coast defenses and naval arrangements.
But it is rarely indeed that there is found in either branch of the service men who have fallen low enough to co?perate with these fellows. From time to time, though, such dastards are found and promptly weeded out. There was no doubt but that Kenworth belonged to the latter class.
I wonder if Rankin does, also, thought Ned. "He was a friend of Kenworth's. It's natural he should be mixed up in his nefarious schemes and plots."
It must have been well after noon when Kenworth reported that the tug had finished her work and was going back.
Then we go 'way, decided Saki. "Me plenty hungry. Bimeby when get dark we come back and keep you company, Honorable Strong."
Yes, don't be afraid we'll forget you, sneered Kenworth, putting up his note book; "you've suddenly become important in my eyes."
Bestowing a parting kick on Ned's helpless form, the miserable traitor followed Saki off across the sand hills. Ned turned his eyes and watched them as they went.
So they were going to leave him there on the parching sand till nightfall, and then——
Ned, old boy, you're sure in a bad fix, said the captive lad to himself. "There's not a chance on earth of getting away from here, and even if I could, I have failed in my mission."
The thought that he had not accomplished the duty laid out for him pained the Dreadnought Boy far more than the contemplation of his predicament. With Ned, and with Herc, too, devotion to their ideals of duty was almost a religion. It is so with most of Uncle Sam's Jackies. But, as we know, a few black sheep are bound to crop up in every fold. Ned thought grimly that he had certainly encountered his share.
The sun beat down hotter and hotter upon the boy. Its rays burned his eyes. His lips were swollen, his every bone aching. The tortures of his thirst had almost reached the point of delirium.
Suddenly he felt an acute pain upon his hand. It stung like the thrust of a red-hot knife.
Ouch! exclaimed Ned, and rolled over a little.
The pain ceased, and the next instant he discovered what had caused it. His binoculars had been laid upon a rock, one of a few that cropped out here and there in the arid sand.
Clearly the Jap and Kenworth had forgotten to take the glasses with them, for following his binding Ned had been stripped of everything he possessed. They lay with the small ends toward him. The sun streaming through the large lenses became concentrated into two tiny, burning dots of white light at the small end of the glasses.
The binoculars had, in fact, become converted into a burning glass, and the sharp sting on Ned's hand had been caused by one of the discs of concentrated heat. Ned was still engaged on this explanation of his pained hand when there was borne to his nostrils the sharp, acrid odor of burning cloth.
He realized in a flash what had happened. When he rolled over, the disc of burning essence of light had left his hand, but centered itself on some portion of his garments. The cloth was on fire and was smoldering.
He was powerless to feel with his hands where the cloth had ignited and could feel as yet no pain. But the odor of the burning fabric was unmistakable.
It is a curious fact, but it was not until some seconds later that Ned realized, with a thrill of horror, what that odor of burning cloth really meant.
If he could not extinguish that slowly consuming fire, it might presently burst into flame. Powerless to save himself, he would be burned alive!
For an instant he felt sick and faint. Then he rallied his faculties and began to roll over and over in the sand. After some moments of this, the odor of burning ceased.
Thank heaven for that, thought the boy with a shudder, as he sensed his terribly narrow escape.
Suddenly his heart gave an exultant throb. A glad thought had been born in his mind. From whence the inspiration came, he did not know. It was enough that it had come.
If the rays of the binoculars that had been so providentially placed would ignite cloth, they would surely set fire to rope!
Ned rolled over once more till he could settle the tiny burning spot upon his wrist bonds. It was tedious work, and by the time he had the white hot circlet focused on the ropes, his hands were covered with tiny red burns that stung like hornets.
But in the excitement of the moment he scarcely paid any attention to these. With shining eyes he watched the rope begin to smoke. It glowed red. The air was filled with a pungent odor.
Ned gave a quick wrench. Like burned flax the charred and smoldering wrist gyves gave way. With his hands free, Ned sat up. He felt sick and dizzy, but his heart bounded with overflowing gratitude. He cast the burning ropes far from him.
A jagged clam shell lay not far off. He made his way to it, half rolling and half staggering. Then, with the sharp shell edges he swiftly cut his leg bonds.
He found himself shaking all over. There was an odd swimming feeling in his head. The sand about him flashed red as blood and the sun reeled through it like a blazing ball of copper.
He spat the gag out of his mouth as the fit of weakness passed from him.
Now, he said half aloud, as he rose on his aching ankles, "now to try conclusions with two of the vilest traitors it has ever been my ill fortune to encounter."
He stood thus a moment looking about him. Then, with painful footsteps, for his circulation was not yet fully restored, he set off along the Neck to where the squat, grim pile of dull red buildings marked the location of the fort.
Halt!
The command came like the crack of a pistol. Facing Ned stood a sentry in the uniform of the Coast Artillery. In his hands he gripped a carbine with a sinister-looking, blue-steel bayonet attached to its barrel.
Here's where you turn back, friend, and pronto, too, grinned the sentry. He was a young fellow, with light blue eyes, stupid in expression, and a nose of the type generally described as "pug."
I've got to get to the fort, I tell you, protested Ned.
His voice came from his parched throat like the cracked, whistling accents of a very old man. His clothes were torn in places from the beach plums, through which he had come with furious haste, his eyes were red-rimmed and wild, and his hat was gone.
The sentry regarded him contemptuously. But his was a lonely post, a quarter of a mile out on the sandy Neck, and he decided to waste a little time with this peculiar stranger.
Say, friend, you don't want the fort. It's your cage you want. Why don't you go right back to the Bronx, climb in, and shut the gate?
Look here, protested Ned, "I'm Lieutenant Strong of the Navy, at least I hold that temporary commission. I've been attacked by rascals while on duty and I'm suffering frightfully from thirst."
I guess you are suffering from thirst, grinned the sentry. "Be a good boy and get back to the bug-house now, or I'll have to help you."
He glanced significantly at his bayonet.
Great Scott! Do you think I'm crazy! cried poor Ned.
Think it? the sentry raised his thin, pale eyebrows, "I know it, old pal. Run along and roll your hoop now, and don't give me no more trouble. If I was to let you into the fort, I'd be put in the guard-house for a month for letting a crank through."
But I'm Lieutenant Strong, I tell you——
The sentry interrupted by tapping his forehead.
Sure you are. That's all right. You can be the President if you like; it's none of my funeral.
There was a sort of soothing intonation in his voice, as if he were trying to quiet a fractious child. The stupidity of the fellow almost drove Ned wild.
He plunged a hand into his pocket. He would show the fellow by documents that he was not an impostor.
I'll show you papers that will prove who I am, he exclaimed.
Then, with a sudden chill of horror, he recollected that all his papers—none of them, luckily, very important ones—had been taken from him by Saki and Kenworth. The sentry was watching him, as he frantically searched, with an amused expression.
Say, what kind of a game are you trying to work, Captain Jinks of the Horse Marines? he asked.
It's not a game, I tell you, cried Ned furiously. "Those rascals who tied me took my papers. They have run off with them——"
I guess it's you that have run off from your keepers, said the sentry, nodding his head sententiously.
It was hopeless. Even Ned, sore pressed as he was, saw that. The man was convinced that he was a crank or a crazy man of some sort and would have no dealings with him. Ned spied a canteen hung round the man's shoulder.
At least, you'll give me a drink, he almost begged, so keen was his need.
It ain't the sort of drink you want. Nothing but water, said the artilleryman.
Good heavens, man, that's what I want! rasped Ned through his parched lips. "Give me just a little. Then I'll go."
Well, if that's all, drink hearty, said the man, in more friendly tones.
He cast a look behind him to make sure he was not observed, and then, unslinging his canteen, he passed it to Ned. The water was warm and tasted leathery, but to Ned it was unspeakably delicious. He threw back his head and let it stream over his parched palate and down his cracked throat.
Cracky! I can hear it sizzle! exclaimed the sentry. "Go on, take it all if you need it as badly as that. I ain't that thirsty, and besides I'll be relieved in a short time."
Ned needed no second invitation. He drained the canteen to the last drop.
I'm ever so much obliged to you, he said turning away; "maybe some day I'll be able to reward you with more than thanks."
That's all right, replied the sentry heartily. "I hope you'll get over that bug of yours about being a lootenant. Why, friend, you might be an orficer in Coxey's army, but I guess that's the only branch of the service you ever had any dealings with."
Ned said nothing in reply, but with a wave of his hand walked off. He had plenty of opportunity, as he plodded along the Neck, for philosophical reflections on the part that clothes play in this world. Had he worn his uniform, he could have marched past the sentry without question. But, as it was, the man more than suspected him of being an escaped lunatic.
Ned's intention in going to the fort had been to establish instant communication with the authorities and warn them to look out for Kenworth and Saki. Of course, the fort was technically the enemy's country, but the lad rightly deemed that the capture of two such renegades as the Jap and the midshipman took precedence of every other consideration.
Now, as he made his way back over the shifting sands, his mind was busy revolving plans for the arrest of the two who had served him in such rascally fashion.
Musing thus, he was pressing steadily on, when, on topping a rise, he came in sight of a small, sandy cove. Drawn well up into it was a sharp-bowed motor boat. A long engine hood forward showed that she carried powerful engines. On shore, beside her, lay a figure dozing in the shade. The tide rippled pleasantly and the sand alongside the beached craft afforded a cool resting place.
The very thing! exclaimed Ned. "Goodness knows how long it would take me to walk to Civic Island. Some time, anyhow, even if I felt in the humor to do it. I'm pretty sure those rascals must have made for there, and if I hurry up I might catch them yet."
Hello, there! he hailed, running down the bank to where the man lay. "Can you start your motor on the jump? I'm in a big hurry and——"
At the sound of a voice the dozing man rolled over.
Right then Ned experienced the surprise of his life. The man was Saki!
The shock of this discovery had hardly had time to sink in, and the two were still staring at each other, when from the boat came another voice.
If you're in a big hurry, come right aboard and save us the trouble of fetching you.
Ned looked up from Saki and faced Kenworth. The renegade midshipman was regarding him with a sardonic grin. Ned saw that he held a revolver. The weapon was pointed straight at the Dreadnought Boy's heart.
Kenworth had a look of triumph on his face. While Ned, dumbfounded at the turn events had taken, faced him, Saki sprang to his feet and also jerked out a pistol.
I advise you not to run, my honorable capitan, or to make resistance, said the Jap, smiling amiably. "It would not by any means suit our purposes to have you get away just now. We must, therefore, claim you as our guest."
Ned feigned an indifference he was far indeed from feeling.
It seems that rascals do have all the luck on their side sometimes, doesn't it? he said.
The Jap did not reply. Instead, he turned to Kenworth, who was still standing on board the motor boat and keeping Ned relentlessly covered with his pistol.
Put over that gangplank, he said. "We are to have the honor of an unexpected visit from clever Mr. Strong. I cannot imagine how he managed to free himself, but it is greatly to our advantage that, after having done so, he took the path that he did. Now, my honorable sir, if you will give yourself the great trouble to walk up that plank I shall be your most obedient servant. Remember I am close behind you, and if you should feel tempted to jump or run, pray recollect that I am excessively nervous, and in my excitement I might press this trigger."
You mean you would do so, returned Ned. "I know you and your breed."
Complimentary, is he not? grinned the Jap, addressing Kenworth.
It doesn't matter what he is, was the grumbling rejoinder, "we've got him tight this time, and by hookey, I mean to keep him safe and sound."
Oh, yes, there must be no more promenades, honorable Ned, chuckled the Jap.
Ned could have throttled the grinning rascal then and there. But he reflected that to make any break to escape would probably result in serious consequences for himself. It was a lonely part of the Neck and concealed from the view of the little-traveled path that led through the brush.
Besides, he thought that possibly another chance to get away might present itself. If he proved troublesome, the two rascals would take double pains to secure him, whereas if they thought he was thoroughly subdued they might not be so particular.
With this thought in mind, he threw back his head proudly and walked across the rickety gangway with a firm step.
At least, I won't let them see that they can scare a sailor of Uncle Sam's, he thought, looking defiantly into the grimacing face of Kenworth.
As soon as he was on board, the gangplank was drawn in. Then Saki addressed the involuntary guest.
Hold out your hands, please, honorable sir.
What for? demanded Ned, although he guessed what was coming. They were going to bind him again.
But this time Ned guessed wrong. That is, on the present occasion the two worthies had clearly decided to use no ordinary methods of insuring the safety of their prisoner.
I wish to present you with some jewelry, said Saki, with a grin that made Ned wild to give the oily, grimacing ruffian a good drubbing.
The next instant he produced a pair of handcuffs. Ned, situated as he was, had no choice but to submit to being manacled.
It's what I might have expected of you, he said, as Saki snapped the locks shut. "May I ask what you mean to do with me?"
We will take a little cruise out into open water till it gets dark, and then we shall return to—to—well, we shall return you to a safe place on shore for the night.
As the Jap spoke, Kenworth started the engine and then drew in the anchor. The clutch was slipped into forward speed and the motor boat moved out of the little cove, splitting the water at a good rate.
You said you were going to take a cruise? inquired Ned.
Such is our intention, rejoined Kenworth, who had the wheel, with a scowl.
I should advise you not to, was the quiet rejoinder.
Why not?
For answer Ned pointed to great castellated clouds piled up in majestic masses on the horizon. They towered whitely against the blue sky and appeared to be traveling at some speed.
Well, what about those clouds? asked Kenworth, with his customary sneer.
Thunder heads. We are in for a bad storm, or I miss my guess, said Ned, in the same quiet tones.
Hark at the scare-cat! chuckled Kenworth. "Say, Ned Strong, for a braggart upstart you show the white feather mighty soon."
If only you were concerned, retorted Ned, "I shouldn't care what became of this craft or those in it. But I'd hate to be drowned, when some day I confidently expect to be the means of bringing you two traitors to justice."
It was perhaps an unwise speech, but Ned was mad clear through. Kenworth looked at him keenly.
So that's your little plan, eh? he asked. "Well, I guess we know ways to checkmate that, Saki."
Undoubtedly, responded the Jap, gravely nodding his head.
That's all I have to say, said Ned; "go ahead and work out your own salvation. I've warned you."
I always knew you were a coward at bottom, Strong, scoffed Kenworth, "and now I'm going to give you a cruise that will take the starch out of you for the rest of your life."
He touched the control, which was on the steering wheel like that of an automobile. The craft leaped forward like a flying fish. The spray flew high on either bow. Kenworth, a wicked gleam in his eyes, headed straight up the Sound.
As Ned had foreseen, a storm was brewing. It was one of those sudden summer storms that come up almost without warning and rage furiously over the Sound. The big thunder heads rolled up rapidly till the entire sky was overcast.
Saki was sitting on the stern seat. Ned, with a gleam of satisfaction, saw that the Jap looked frightened. Indeed the weather promised to be bad enough to alarm even an experienced sailor, which Saki surely was not.
Under the dark clouds the sky was shot with an angry, lurid, copper color. The sea had turned leaden and began to heave suddenly. Still Kenworth, driven by his hatred of Ned, kept on.
It appeared that he hardly cared what became of himself or his companion, so that he could have his revenge upon Ned. As a matter of fact, Kenworth by no means liked the looks of the weather himself. But it would have been unsafe to remain ashore with Ned, as neither the midshipman nor Saki knew with whom he had been conversing during his brief liberty. For all they could tell, although it did not appear probable, an ambush might have been laid for them. Therefore, they had decided to cruise about till it grew dark.
Ned, for his part, determined to say nothing more. He sat on a midship seat, the handcuffs on his wrists, watching the coming storm.
The wind began to moan in an eerie sort of way. It sounded like the actual voice of the coming tempest. The sea began to whip up into white caps. Suddenly the black storm curtain was ripped and rent from top to bottom by a jagged streak of livid lightning.
Saki turned a sort of pasty green. His knees almost knocked together. The motor boat was a narrow-waisted, wasp-like craft, and did not appear to be suited for heavy weather.
Maybe so we better go back, suggested the Jap in a shaky voice. He glanced apprehensively at the mighty canopy of the storm overhead.
Kenworth turned on him almost savagely.
We'll go back when I get good and ready, he said. "I want to see how much this white-livered braggart can stand. Yes, I mean you, Strong."
There was a sweeping blast of wind. It was followed by a blinding flash and then a roar like the rumble of a million celestial chariot wheels. The Jap hid his face while the lightning seared and streaked the sky as if an egg had been spattered to smithereens on a blackboard. The very air smelled sulphurous.
I—I guess we'll go back, said Kenworth.
Just then a wave struck the side of the bow and reared its white crest high above the tossing craft. Saki sprang to his feet as the salt water came dousing down in a regular cloudburst. It drenched Kenworth to the skin and tore from the Jap a frightened shout.
Hope you like it, grinned Ned, the only collected person on the boat. The dark frenzy of Kenworth's mad passion had passed and now he saw with panic-stricken eyes the danger they were in. The wind was howling furiously and the waves were piling up on every side. It seemed impossible that the lightly built craft could live much longer in the tumult of waters.
Saki was in a panic of fear. Crouched on the bottom of the boat, his yellow face looked, in the glare of the almost incessant lightning, like some hideous war-mask of the old Samurai.
Ned gazed about him. The outlook was bad, very bad. And then there were those handcuffs. If only he could get them off. He addressed the terrified Saki.
You drop that wheel, and we'll all go to Davy Jones! shouted Ned.—Page 155
Here, you, take these handcuffs off. At once, do you hear me?
He felt no fear of the groveling wretch at his feet. He even emphasized his remarks by a threatening gesture of his foot.
Oh! Oh! Honorable Saki much frightened! wailed the Jap.
You contemptible yellow cur, snapped Ned, "brace up! Do you hear me? Come now, quick, the key."
The Jap actually managed to struggle to his feet and produce the key. Kenworth saw what he was doing.
Stop that! he yelled, and began to let go of the wheel. A shout from Ned brought him to his senses.
You drop that wheel, and we'll all go to Davy Jones! shouted Ned.
Kenworth gripped the spokes again. If ever fear was written on a face, it was on his. The thought of the death that was so near paralyzed him. Perhaps he thought of that other storm off the Cuban coast when Ned had brought them safely aboard through a wilder sea than this.
The Jap's teeth chattered as he unfastened the handcuffs and Ned jerked his hands free.
Now hand over that gun. Quick, now, snapped out Ned.
The Jap was so terrified that he would have done anything he was told. With hands that shook, he handed over the pistol. Ned took possession of it with grim satisfaction.
The chance that he had hoped against hope might come had arrived. He was on even terms with his foes. But would that fact do him any good? The storm was raging so furiously that Ned, with all his optimism, could not hope that the motor craft would live through it.
The only thing to be done, as he saw it, was to run for the lee of a point of land some distance off. If they could reach this in safety, they might have a chance. If not, and the storm continued to increase in violence, there was hardly one chance in a thousand for them.
The angry lightning hissed and crackled and the thunder boomed with ear-splitting clamor as Ned made his way forward to Kenworth's side. When he arrived there, he seized the other by the shoulder and shouted in his ear.
Steer for that point yonder! It's the only chance we've got.
Kenworth, in his fear forgetting everything but the instinct of self-preservation, obediently headed the storm-stressed craft around.
It was at that moment that another sea broke upon the little vessel.
There was a sputter and a series of coughs from the engine, and simultaneously the motor, upon which all depended, went dead.
This is the finish!
Ned gasped out the words as he heard the last expiring cough of the motor. It was hopelessly short-circuited. The battery box was drenched, the spark-plugs dripping.
Kenworth turned a white face on him.
You mean——
That your wicked schemes have ended in this, Kenworth—a miserable death for us all. This tinder box cannot live more than five minutes longer, if that. You had best prepare to meet your Maker.
Kenworth, moaning like the arrant coward he was, threw himself groveling on the floor of the boat.
Oh—oh—oh! Can nothing save us? he moaned. "Listen, Strong, I have been wicked, I know. But I was poor, and gambling took away whatever money I could scrape together. I was threatened with exposure to my relatives if I did not pay my debts.
That would have meant ruin, for, influential as they were, they had become disgusted with the poor showing I had made in the navy. It was at this crisis that I met Saki. He tempted me to betray naval secrets with promises of money. He helped me pay my debts and gave me money lavishly. In return, I furnished him with every scrap of information I could pick up. He has secret code books, fire-control plans, night signals, and details of our ammunition resources.
Ned looked at the wretch that groveled at his feet as if he could have struck him.
How long has this been going on? he demanded.
For a long time. Saki had me in his power. I was helpless.
Don't be a weakling in addition to your other faults, said Ned imperiously. "Have you that book of drawings you have been making?"
Y-y-y-yes.
Give it to me.
B-b-b-but it is meant for——
Give it to me. If I should be saved, I will see that the proper authorities get it. If not, there will no harm come of it. Come, hand it over.
Quivering from head to foot, white-faced and limp-fingered, Kenworth fumbled in his pockets. He drew out a book and handed it over to Ned. The Dreadnought Boy took it and thrust it into his pocket.
Hardly had he done so before a giant wave swept down on the motor boat. Caught in the trough of the seas, the craft wallowed helplessly.
Then, half full of water, she sidled down the other side. Ned saw that the end was at hand. With a white, set face he ripped out some life preservers from under the seats.
Here, put these on, he commanded Kenworth and the Jap.
As he spoke, he flung one to each. They seized them, their teeth chattering and their throats uttering sounds that were hardly human. Ned took one himself and buckled it on.
At least the stolen secrets of the United States Navy are in safe hands now, he muttered; "if I go to the bottom, there is no better keeper of confidences than old Davy Jones. If I should save my life, no power on earth will separate me from them till I have placed them in the hands of the naval authorities."
The half-filled boat kept afloat with wonderful seaworthiness, considering her narrow build. Wave after wave, that it appeared must engulf her half water-logged hull, she rode right gallantly.
Ned actually began to entertain a ray of hope that, after all, she might weather the tempest. But it was still blowing with malignant fury, and there did not appear to be any sign of abatement in the huge seas and constant display of angry lightning.
D-d-d-do you think she can live? stammered Kenworth.
Ned shook his head. He turned a glance of contempt upon the conscience-stricken coward.
Do you mean to tell me that you care for life after what you have confessed to me? he demanded. "Why, Kenworth, if I had done one half of what you admit, I should not wish ever to meet one of my fellow men again.
Why, man, you had a glorious chance in the finest sea service in the world! What did you do with it? Chucked it away and became a pawn, a creature of your country's enemies.
Kenworth whimpered like a whipped cur.
I—I needed the money, he stuttered; "I was helpless in the hands of the Jap. I tried to do better, but somehow I couldn't break away. I—I always liked you, Strong. I did indeed. Can you save us?"
"Yes, you liked me so much that on every occasion you could you took advantage of the fact that you were an officer to insult and abuse me! Kenworth, now that you are frightened at the face of death, you are willing to cringe and cow to me. If we were all to be saved, and our positions could ever be the same again, you would be just the same. It is the nature of such men as you. But we never shall be the same again, Kenworth. Your career is ended. Driven from the navy, branded as a traitor, you will find no peace.""
"B-b-b-but life is sweet, Strong. Can't you save us? Saki will give you money. Plenty of money.
Yes, yes, honorable sir, cried the Jap eagerly. "My emperor will reward you. I, too, am rich. I will give you much money. Only save us. There is nothing——"
A scream of terror from Kenworth's white lips split the air. It sounded above the rumble of the thunder chariots.
Look! Look! he shrieked, high above the noises of the storm.
Towering over them, looming up through the flying wrack like the tremendous figure of fate itself, was a gigantic black form. It was right upon them.
It's a schooner! shouted Ned. "She's——"
There was a horrible crunching sound and the motor boat was no more. Severed clean in two, she sank, the storm-racked sea carrying with her those who a moment before had been of her company.