Up the River Part 8

No progress whatever had been made in solving the problem of the Islander's sudden departure without her owner and pa.s.sengers. We could not imagine any motive on the part of her captain for his singular conduct. My father and Colonel Shepard talked about the matter all the time; but in the absence of any data they could not get ahead a particle.

In an hour and a half by the watch we were in sight of the bar. The weather looked thick and nasty outside, and there was not the slightest sign of the Islander. But we were still in the river, and our view to the north and south was obstructed by the trees and shrubs on the sh.o.r.es. It was plain enough to me by this time that Captain Blastblow had no intention of returning to Jacksonville for his pa.s.sengers.

I kept the Sylvania on her course over the bar, and, as it was full tide, I had no fear of taking the bottom. We kept on our course till we had made a good offing. Though the fog had not settled down near the bar, vast piles of it were floating in the air. The question now was whether the Islander had gone to the north or the south. I had given the wheel to Hop Tossford, and I was using the gla.s.s very industriously in all quarters of the horizon.

"Sail, ho!" shouted Buck Lingley, who had taken his station on the cap of the foremast.

"Where away?" I shouted, sticking my head out the side window of the pilot-house.

"Right on the starboard beam," replied Buck.

As the fog lifted a minute later I got a glimpse of the sail.

"It is the Islander!" I shouted, not a little excited. "She is going to the southward."

"I can't understand it," said Colonel Shepard, shaking his head. "Does Captain Blastblow mean to run away with the vessel?"

No one could tell what he meant.

CHAPTER VII.

A FOG OFF THE FLORIDA COAST.

The Sylvania was close-hauled, and I gave out the course south south-east. This was the navigation to take the steamer around the peninsula into the Gulf of Mexico, though we intended to put in at Key West, in order to see the place. Washburn noted the departure on the log slate in the pilot-house, and, as it was necessary for us to run by our dead reckoning, the log was heaved every hour. In a short time we were buried in the fog, and kept our steam-whistle going at the proper intervals.

The young ladies soon deserted the pilot-house, for we were obliged to keep the front windows open, and the air was cold and moist. Owen left with them, and my father and Colonel Shepard soon took their places.

The owner of the Islander was still too much excited to keep still. He tried to see through the fog; but he might as well have attempted to look through a rocky hill.

"How far ahead do you think the Islander is now, Captain Alick?" asked the Colonel.

"About eight miles, I should judge, unless Captain Blastblow has succeeded in getting more speed out of the Islander than any one else ever could," I replied at once, for I had estimated the distance before.

"Do you really think you are gaining on her?"

"I have no doubt of it," I replied, confidently. "They hurried the Islander down the river; and when both vessels are doing their best the Sylvania gains about a knot an hour on the Islander. I have tried this with her when she had a sailing-master on board who knew all about her, and had sailed her hundreds of miles. I don't believe Captain Blastblow can do any better with her than Captain Braceback; and I used to beat him every time."

"I dare say you are quite right, Captain Alick," added Colonel Shepard.

"It is reasonable to suppose that a man who is used to a vessel can do better with her than a stranger."

"I got only a glimpse of the Islander when the fog lifted for a moment, and saw only her spars and sails," I continued. "I have had considerable experience in judging of distances on the water. I should like to have you ask the others on board how far off they think the other steamer was when we saw her."

The colonel liked the suggestion, and he was so much interested in the question that he wished to have the best information he could obtain. I called Washburn first. No one but Hop Tossford at the wheel had heard the conversation, and they could not be influenced by my opinion of the matter. The mate said seven miles. Buck Lingley made it nine miles, and then Ben Bowman was summoned.

"Just about eight miles, I should say," replied Ben, when the question was put to him.

"No two of them agree, though they do not differ widely," said the Colonel, when all who had seen the Islander had answered.

"Ben Bowman has had more experience than all the rest of us put together," I added. "But, Colonel, if you will average all the answers, you will find the result is just eight miles. We may be all wrong.

Captain Blastblow talks louder than the rest of us, but when he beats the Sylvania in a fair stand-up run, I wish you would let me know it, if I don't find it out before you do."

I felt almost absolutely certain of the ground I stood on, for I had tried this same issue when the result was almost a case of life and death with me. The Sylvania had been built after the Islander, and her constructor had an opportunity to improve on her model. Our engine was a little more powerful than that of the other yacht, and a defect in the lines of the latter had been corrected in building ours. But the fact of our superior speed had been several times demonstrated by actual trial, and the improvements in our model and machinery only explained what had been proved. It was of course possible that Captain Blastblow had some "knack" of getting more speed out of a steamer than I had; but I was willing to believe, in this case, only what was fairly proved.

"We may miss the Islander in this fog," continued Colonel Shepard, peering anxiously through the fog.

"We may, sir," I replied. "There is nothing to prevent her from coming about and running back to Jacksonville."

"What if she should do that?" asked the owner of the stray yacht.

"We are in the dark as to the intentions of her captain; and everything depends upon them," I answered.

"What can his intentions possibly be?" inquired the colonel, knitting his brow, as he recurred once more to the well-worn topic for at least the twentieth time.

"It is quite impossible to conjecture his motives. He has either made a mistake in regard to his instructions, or he means to run away with the Islander."

"What mistake could he have made in regard to his instructions?"

demanded the colonel, who had not admitted the possibility for an instant of any mistake. "Last night I wrote his instructions to be ready to sail at seven, and sent them off to him by the young man who was with you."

"Did you write seven this morning, sir?" I asked.

"I think I did, though I should not be willing to swear to it," replied the colonel, looking a little blank at the idea of such a mistake.

"If you simply said seven, he may have taken it to mean seven this evening," I suggested.

"He could not have thought we intended to go down the river and cross the bar in the night."

"I should say not; but Captain Blastblow is a very brilliant man, and has been around Cape Horn and the Cape of Good Hope so many times that he ought to know what he is about," I replied, letting out a little of my pique at the commander of the Islander for his implications against me.

"Allowing that I wrote 'seven P.M.,' or that I did not write either morning or evening, what is Captain Blastblow doing down here?"

demanded Colonel Shepard, warmly.

"If he understood that you were not to sail till this evening, he may have brought the Islander out here to try her, and enable him to get accustomed to her ways before he took on board his pa.s.sengers. That is all the explanation I can suggest, but I don't think it will hold water. He knows very well, for he has been around Cape Horn several times, that if he comes out here in a fog, he may not be able to get back to Jacksonville in time to take you on board to-night, or even to-morrow or next day."

"If Captain Blastblow had any doubt in regard to my orders, he could have sent one of his men up to my house, and ascertained just what I intended," said the owner, rather wrathfully.

"That is what I should have done; but Captain Blastblow has had more experience than I have," I replied, with a smile.

"Did you notice anything unusual about the Islander, or the conduct of those on board of her, when you saw her this morning, Captain Alick?"

continued the colonel.

"Nothing at all, sir. A boat went off to her a few moments before she weighed her anchor," I answered. "There were two persons in the boat when it went alongside the Islander, but only one returned to the sh.o.r.e in it. I concluded some one of her officers or crew had remained ash.o.r.e over night, and came off in a sh.o.r.e boat. I did not think of the boat till you asked the question."

"I don't see that the boat throws any light on the transaction," mused the owner. "We don't know who was in the boat, though if we were in Jacksonville, we could easily ascertain."

"I don't have any idea that we shall know anything about this matter until we overhaul the Islander," I added. "We can guess for the next week, but we are as likely to guess wrong as right."