Frontier Boys on the Coast Part 28

He dodged down just as the sailors fired another shot, then he sprang to the narrow pinnacle of the rock and bending slightly forward with bent knees and swinging hand, poised for the leap.

"The condemned fool is going to jump," roared the Captain. "Shoot him on the wing."

But the sailors were not ready and the skipper ran between the rock and the cliff to be at hand to stamp the life out of Juarez when he should fall as he knew he would. Then he leaped, a dark object flying through s.p.a.ce, his hands caught the edge of the cliff, the roots of a small bush held him for a moment, then he slipped. Below him was certain death.

Two strong hands caught his arms, and he was drawn in safety to the cliff above. The Captain and the two sailors watched in open mouthed wonder, all they could see was the dim figure of Juarez crawl in safety over the top of the cliff, but they could not determine the means of his escape.

It struck a superst.i.tious chord in their natures and the skipper became moody and silent.

Juarez breathlessly followed the lanky figure of the shepherd through the darkness, for it was no other who had extended the rescuing hand.

Hardly a word was spoken, and they started off. After going a considerable distance they came to a slab hut built at the foot of a high range of hills that formed the backbone of the island.

Two shepherd dogs rushed forth and gave their master a boisterous welcome, and were soon good friends with Juarez. Everything in the hut was neat; with Indian rugs on the floor which gave a warm touch of color to the interior and one side of the hut was lined with books.

"What am I thinking of," suddenly cried Juarez in dismay, "to leave Tom in the hands of that crew? My head is wrong." With that, he grew pale and slid unconscious to the floor. He had evidently not recovered from the blow that the Mexican had dealt him a few days before, and the strain he had been under brought on a relapse. The shepherd worked over him a long time before he finally brought him around.

Meanwhile what had become of Tom? He had not been quick enough to make his escape, and his fate was in the balance when the Skipper came up to him just after Juarez had disappeared over the cliff.

"You don't get away, I promise you that, lad," growled the Captain.

Roughly seizing the boy by the shoulder he dragged him toward the cliff.

Then the two disappeared into the entrance of a cave, the Captain still holding in one hand his battered leather satchel.

The sailor who stood on guard at the entrance, saw just then the lights of a steamer that was just entering the channel and he rushed into the cave, called to the Captain, and in a few minutes that worthy appeared.

If he felt any alarm he showed none, but without any loss of time he a.s.sembled his crew, got his boat free of land and rowed silently out to sea. Whatever he had intended to do with Tom, evidently pa.s.sed from his mind, now awakened to the solution of some other problem.

CHAPTER x.x.x

IN THE STRAIT

As Juarez and Tom were under the kindly escort of Captain Broom and his sailors in the whale boat on their cruise to the mysterious island, Jo, Jim and the Spaniard had stopped at an old sycamore tree, where, as had been promised, the Indian messenger was awaiting their coming.

"What news, Yaquis?" asked the Spaniard, who knew the Indian well.

"I saw the boat by my own eyes," he replied, "heading for the Big Island," pointing to the South. "By her smoke she stopped in the Bow Harbor near the lower end." So spoke the Indian, standing straight and tall. He was a picturesque sight with his coa.r.s.e, black hair cut square and long.

"The trail is getting warm," exclaimed Jim eagerly. "Where can we get a boat?"

"There is a small boat at the Harbor of San Pedro," replied the Spaniard, "that is the property of a friend of mine. I doubt not we can have the use of it."

"It is now a little after six," said Jim. "How far is it to the Harbor?"

"A dozen miles," replied the Indian.

"Is your horse too tired, Senor Sebastian, to make it by eight?" The Spaniard's eyes flashed.

"Senor, Don Fernando is never tired. Let us start."

"We are ready," replied Jim. "Which is the shortest cut?"

"I will guide you," was the Indian's response.

"He knows this country like the foot does the shoe," a.s.sured the Spaniard.

Without more ado, the new guide took the lead and they rode at a rapid gait in single file. At first they went down a gentle grade for several miles until they came to a perfectly level plain that stretched in three directions to the sea. At the end of the land was a perfectly rounded rise like a huge long bolster.

The party of rescuers left the Puebla de los Angeles several miles to the East, taking the shortest way to the harbor. There was no let-up to the speed, if anything, they seemed to be going faster, with sweaty sides and shoulders, but with unaffected stamina. The going was fine, over a springy turf and sometimes they tore through wide belts of tall mustard.

Jo and Jim were in fine fettle as the end of the journey came in sight and there was promise of their coming to close quarters with the pirates and possibly rescuing their oppressed brothers from captivity. Then, too, the pa.s.sage of the strait in an open boat appealed to their sense of adventure.

About eight o'clock, they came to a ranch two miles from the harbor, where Senor Sebastian had a short talk with a man who owned the small boat that had been referred to. He was perfectly willing to lend them the boat and also sent a Mexican servant to bring back their horses and put them up in his stables. Not forgetting to thank him for his great kindness to them, the boys turned their horses' heads for the harbor, the last lap of their long journey had begun.

In a half hour, they stood on the sh.o.r.e of a long, narrow inlet, at a point where a craft was moored. From a small boat-house, they got the oars, the mast and the sail to be used if the wind was right. Then they were ready to get aboard. Jim looked at his watch. "It lacks ten minutes of nine," he said.

Then they embarked. The boat was not a mere row-boat, but was found to be of good size and about equal to a whale boat. It was staunch, too, and sea worthy. The mooring was cast off. Jim was at the bow oar, and Jo at the one back of him on the other side, while the Indian, Yaquis, steered. The tide favored them as they glided quickly between the banks, and they were not long in reaching the channel.

At first, there was a slow, heavy swell, while in the lee of the land, that did not bother the boys but within a half hour they were in a choppy sea with breaking crests, and now the real work for Jo and Jim began. Fortunately, the Indian was a most skillful oar, and he kept them from being swamped. As yet there was no breeze to help them.

"This is almost as good as running the Rapids in the Grand Canyon,"

cried Jim joyously.

The boys were in fine fettle for their work, notwithstanding their long day in the saddle, and they buckled to it with a will, although wet through with flying spray. They had enjoyed a good rest the night before and after their long ride they were glad to get the kinks out of their muscles. They really made remarkably good headway against the sea and the stoical Indian grunted approval of their work. Ah, but it was fine, battling with the waves through the darkness, while the boat thrashed and beat its way ahead.

The boys stood to their oars and put all the strength of their lithe young bodies into the stroke and they seemed tireless. The Spaniard had made himself comfortable in the bow, where, sheltered by a short overhead deck, he was soon fast asleep.

"Wake me when it is time to be drowned," he said. "I know it is my fate." Jim remembered the Spaniard's melancholy of the day before, and laughed heartily, as he promised.

"There are the lights of a vessel," cried Yaquis, who, though silent, was ever on the watch. "Ahead of us to the Southwest."

"You are right," said Jim. The lights were like two faint, moving stars, one aloft and the other below.

"That isn't the Pirate s.h.i.+p," declared Jo. "She wouldn't be showing any light." After a while, the lights of the vessel were suddenly eclipsed, but by the dull light of the moon, now risen, the vessel's bulk could still be made out.

"She has gone into the further straits," said Yaquis, "between the two islands."

A gentle breeze sprang up, but blowing directly toward them, it lent no aid. Before midnight, the westerly breeze had died absolutely down, and in a not very long time, the sea followed suit, leaving a long swell and the rowing became much easier. Nothing occurred to break the monotony for a while. There was the steady grinding of the oars in the row-locks and the lapping of the waves in the gloom, for the moon was now obscured by clouds. Then, of a sudden, the Indian called a halt.

"Do you hear footsteps?" inquired Jim, jocosely.

"A steamer coming, I hear her, no lights. Pull hard." In a minute, even the boys could hear the beat of her engines and saw the occasional flare from her stacks, then a dark form took shape through the night. They pulled l.u.s.tily for they knew their danger and who it was. How quickly they would be run down, if discovered, and left to drown in the wide strait, when Captain Broom found out their ident.i.ty. No wonder they pulled.

"Stop now, draw in your oars. Lie down," warned the Indian.

Not a hundred yards to the Eastward came The Sea Eagle and she was on an even line with the boat that lay a black patch on the dark water. If Captain Broom was not on the Bridge they would be safe.