Reube Dare's Shad Boat

With long, powerful strokes they sped across the narrow channel that divided them from safety. Will, swimming at much less than his full speed, dropped almost a yard behind as soon as they were fairly started, and swam on his side so as to command a view of the water behind. The narrow ridge of yet uncovered sand, however, prevented him from seeing what took place when he and Reube slipped noiselessly, as they thought, into the water. Those black fins had turned on the instant, and were darting with terrific speed for the lower end of the sand spit.

By the time our swimmers were fairly half way across, or perhaps a shade better, Will saw the fins come round the foot of the sand spit.

“I think we’ll make it,” he said to himself, measuring the distance with cool eye. But he refrained from telling Reube what he saw. A moment later, however, as he marked the terrible speed of the approaching peril, he could not help saying, in a voice which he kept quite steady and casual:

“You’re doing finely, Reube. Don’t hurry your stroke, but put a little more power in it for a spurt and we’re safe.”

Reube wasted no breath for a reply. He knew this adjuration of Will’s meant that the danger was drawing very near; but his companion’s anxiety as to his nerves was quite unneeded. He struck out as steadily as ever, but with all the force which his muscle and his will power together could create, and went ahead so fast that Will had to really swim to keep up with him. In half a minute more – to them it seemed a long time – Reube struck bottom in shallow water and dragged himself to land. The sharks were now so near that for an instant Will hesitated. Would he have time to get out, or must he turn and defend his legs? But his decision was instantaneous. With a mighty thrust of his legs and one free arm he flung himself forward, felt the mud beneath his hands, jerked his feet under him, and stood up just in time to turn and deal the nearest shark a desperate blow with the pointed stake as it half turned over to seize him. Astonished and daunted, the great fish recoiled, and before its fellow could join in the attack Will had sprung out of reach.

“It’s a blessed thing,” said Will, “to get ashore with a whole leg, isn’t it?”

His light manner was but the froth on the surface of his deeper emotions. He was trembling from the long strain and stern self-repression.

Reube drew a deep, slow breath.

“Verily,” said he, with a grave face, “that was pretty nearly as bad as the cave while it lasted!”

“O, surely not,” objected Will. “We had the free air and sun, and a chance to fight for our lives. But it makes me mad to think what fools we were in the first place.”

“How so?” asked Reube.

“Why,” answered Will, “if we’d come, this way on the first arrival of those beastly leviathans we would not have had half so far to swim, and our pursuers would have had nearly twice as far to go. It would have all been as simple and easy as falling off a log, and our hearts wouldn’t be going like trip hammers now, the way they are.”

“That’s so,” agreed Reube, in a tone of disgust. “But now I’m wondering what other scrapes we can manage to get into between here and home. I never realized till now the truth of the proverb – generally I despise proverbs – which says ‘It never rains but it pours!’ It seems to me I have been at steady high pressure the last few days, and lived more and felt more than in all the rest of my life put together.”

“My idea is that fate’ll let us alone for a while now,” remarked Will, with the air of a philosopher. “The law of probabilities is all against any further excitement on this trip.”

“So be it!” said Reube. “But let’s get to the Dido– and our clothes!”

Trotting up the lonely shore of the creek for half a mile, they came to an aboideau, and crossed to the other shore of the stream. Following down the bank, they soon came opposite the Dido. The sharks were nowhere to be seen, and the Dido presently swung so near that a short plunge put them safely on board. Dressing hastily, they got up the anchor and sailed out of the creek with their bowsprit pointing homeward. As they did so the sharks appeared again, pursuing them. Will tied a piece of pork to a dry block, tossed it overboard, and snatched up his rifle. The bait floated a moment unmolested, then the nearest shark, darting upon it, turned over and engulfed it in his murderous mouth. At the same moment Will fired. The ball, with deadly precision, entered the brute’s mouth and pierced its brain. With a convulsive flurry it rolled over stone dead.

CHAPTER XII.

The Shot from the Rocks

THE other shark, taking alarm, darted away at once.

“That’s a trophy we must secure!” exclaimed Reube. “You don’t have a chance to shoot a shark every day.”

Will was already noosing a couple of ropes. The Dido was brought alongside the rolling carcass, and after a great deal of difficulty the nooses were made fast to its head and tail. In the effort to hoist the heavy mass aboard the boat was nearly swamped; and at one time Will offered to give up the job. But Reube generously insisted on continuing. At last, by waiting till a wave rolled boat and carcass, together in just the most propitious way possible, the thing was accomplished with a sudden hoist. Along with the great fish a barrel or two of water came aboard; and while Reube steered, Will was kept busy for a half hour bailing the boat out.

This accomplished, Will discovered that the hot sun, the excitement, or possibly the motion of the boat, had given him a violent headache.

“O, it’s all very well, but you know you’re seasick,” gibed Reube, as he sat at the helm.

“Maybe so,” assented Will, undisturbed at the imputation. “Anyway, I’m going to lie down here under the shade of the mainsail to sleep it off. Even if I snore don’t wake me, as you value your life!”

With the aid of a blanket he made himself comfortable, and in a few minutes was sound asleep. Steering the Dido and watching the shores slip by, and building plans for the coming year, Reube was well content. The wind, after having almost died away, had shifted a few points and was blowing gently but steadily. With this wind on her beam the Dido sailed fast, heeling smoothly, and sending the waves past her gunwale with a pleasant murmur. Reube took little account of time just now. Life seemed a very attractive dream, and he was unwilling even to stir. But his hand on the tiller was firm, and there was no smallest danger of him dropping to sleep.

This lotus-eating mood, with a few intervals, must have lasted four or five hours. The tide had turned and been a good three hours on the ebb. At last he observed vaguely that he was just off the promontory where he and Will had been caught in the cave. Thinking of the dangers of the locality, he steered a point or two further out to give the sunken reefs a wide berth. As he did so he noticed that the tide was out as far as the foot of the bluff, and that the cove flats were all uncovered. He was fairly past the point when out of the tail of his eye he caught a movement among the rocks just where the cave mouth lay. Turning his head quickly, he saw Mart Gandy step forward and raise his great duck gun to his shoulder.

The distance was scarcely fifty yards, and Gandy was a first-rate shot. There was no time to think. Like a flash Reube dropped forward upon the bottom of the boat, letting the tiller swing free. At the same instant there was a loud, roaring report from the big duck gun, and the heavy charge of buckshot, passing just over the gunwale, tore a black hole in the sail.

Reube had fallen just in time. He picked himself up again at once, recaptured the tiller, and tried to put the Dido before the wind in the hope of getting out of range ere Gandy could load up for another shot. But the boat was pointing straight for the shore, and came round very slowly. Ere Reube could get her on a new course Will appeared from behind the sail, astonished at the noise and the confusion.

He took in the situation at once. Gandy, who was reloading in fierce haste, stopped for a moment with paling face at Will’s unexpected appearance. He had evidently been under the impression that Reube was alone, or doubtless he would not have committed himself by such an attack. Then he made up his mind that he would see the thing through. Flinging down his powder horn, he rammed home the wadding fiercely, and reached for the heavy shot pouch at his side.

“To shore, Reube! Straight ashore with her!” said Will, in a low, intense voice.

Reube obeyed instantly, seeing that his former intention had been a mistake. Mart Gandy wadded home the buckshot in his great gun barrel. The charge was a terrific one. Will stooped, like a wild-cat crouching for a spring. The Dido rushed straight on, and both Reube and Will declared afterward that they knew just what it was like to charge a battery.

As Will’s keen eye saw Gandy’s finger feel for the trigger, he yelled, “Down! Reube!” and dropped beneath the gunwale. On the instant Reube fell flat in the stern. The great roar of the duck gun shook the air at the same moment. But the charge flew wild and high, and a black hole appeared in the upper part of the sail. The report was followed by a yell of pain, and the big gun clattered on the rocks. Gandy staggered back. The breech of the gun had blown out, and a fragment of it had shattered his arm. In a moment, however, he recovered himself and rushed desperately at the face of the bluff.

The boys saw at once what had happened.

“We’ve got him now,” said Reube, sternly. His sense of justice quenched all sense of pity.

“Yes,” remarked Will, “he can’t climb the rocks with that arm; and now that he can’t fire that clumsy weapon of his, he’s no longer dangerous. We’ll just take him prisoner!”

Meanwhile the Dido was dashing straight on to the Point, trusting to Providence that she would strike a soft spot. But with Gandy disabled there was no need of this desperate haste, so Reube steered for a place where he knew there was neither reef nor honey pot, but a slope of firm sand. He was too much occupied in the delicate task of making a safe landing for the Dido to observe what Gandy was doing. But Will watched the actions of the latter, with a cold smile on his finely cut mouth.

“He is a coward, every time, when it comes to the pinch!” was his remark. “See him now, too scared to meet us like a man, and struggling like a whipped cur to climb those rocks and get away! He can’t do it, though!”

Indeed, Mart Gandy at this moment realized the fact which gave Will such satisfaction. With his right arm broken, he could not make his way to the top of the bluff. Like a hunted animal, he turned and glared with eyes of hate and fear upon his adversaries. Again he looked at the rocks, turning his head quickly from side to side. And then, with a shrill, fierce cry, he darted out straight across the flats toward the head of the cove.

“He’ll get away after all,” remarked Reube.

“Get away, indeed!” muttered Will. “It’s in the very thick of the honey pots he’ll be in less than half a minute, or I’m much mistaken. There!”

As he spoke, Gandy was seen to throw himself violently backward. It was just in time. As he tore himself by a mighty wrench from the engulfing slime he struggled to his feet, swerved to one side, and ran on.

Reube drew a long breath of relief; and Will said, dispassionately:

“That was well done. It was sharp.”

Just then the Dido ran up on the sand, and stopped with a shock that would have pitched Will overboard if he had not grasped the mast.

“Now we’ve done it, Reube!” he exclaimed. “We’re aground hard and fast, just when there’s no longer any need of being here. I fancy we won’t undertake to follow Mr. Gandy through these honey pots.”

Reube made no direct answer. He was on his feet watching the fugitive, anxiously.

“Ah-h-h!” he cried, “he’s got it. He’ll never get through that patch of death traps along there.”

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Gandy seemed to wallow forward as if the ground had given way beneath him. With a mighty heave of his body he tried to throw himself backward as he had done before. But this time he was too late The hungry, greenish-red ooze but lipped and clung to him more greedily. He flung himself flat, rolled on his side, and strove to drag one leg free. With the effort his other leg sank up to the thigh. Then he lifted his face and uttered a shriek of heart-shaking horror.

Reube and Will sprang out upon the sand, Will grabbing up the boat hook as he did so. Reube snatched it from his hand.

“Go back,” he cried, “and get a rope, and follow me carefully right in my tracks. I know this cove and you don’t.”