Adventures OF Captain Doyle,

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 8, Issue 13, 12 February 1907, Page 7

Adventures OF Captain Doyle,

(Copyright.)

GRAHAM LAWSON.

PART 5, THE DESPERATE .VENTURE OF THE SCHOONER MARY LANE. “Wo pay your passage over to New York by tin* Majestic's next sailing,” said the affable gentleman behind the counter, “and that, is all we can say about it. If you care to go, Caplain Hoyle, tiu; berth is open to you; but if you do not accept it, on the spot., some one else may call in and take it.” “You cannot oven toll me. the name of the owner of the schooner!” inquired Doyle. “A friend of mini*,” responded the shipowner, “who lias asked mo to get, him n capable sKippe”. The wages are fourteen pounds, and commission on the freight.” '‘But commission on the freight is most unusual in iheso days,” demurred tin* skipper, “though Hip German lines, I know, go in for that sort of business. It isn't a German firm?” “No; solid British and American,” and the shipowner smiled. “I’m sorry I'm forbidden to give details, captain, bin, you'll understand, all about it when you get over to Now’ York. To tell the truth I know nothing of the matter other than I have already given you. Of course, I have a good idea what the work is, but noll-iing more. I may tell you that you'll need the courage of a lion to curry’ it, through. If you have Unit (here is not the slightest doui.it t shall see you in England within six ’months, and if that occurs, in all probability I may have a berth to offer you.” “Then Ibis job at New York is temporary “Yes, that is why so many men have refused it. But look here. I like your papers and strongly advise yon (o go. Will you accept ?” The shipowner drew out a gold watch. have an appointment just now,” he continued, “so perhaps you had heller call in during the afternoon — say about three—and jet me know your decision.” “f cun give you that now,”- said Doyle. ‘‘X accept.” “Very well,” said the shipowner. “If you’ll leave your certificate with nn*. i’ll forward it to my friend in New’ York, ami will give you a cheque for your passage in the White Star offices.” “No,” replied Doyle, firmly, buttoning Ids coat. “If you care to trust me with my ticket in my pocket I’ll lake the berth.” He turned as if to go. A’ minute afterwards he was descending the steps of the building with a cheque in one pocket, and a hand gripping Ids masler'.s certificato in the oilier. And smiling and smoking ho booked bis passage per the Majestic and arrived safe and sound in New York, Some ton days laler. His orders at Liverpool were to wait on Board in (bo saloon, ami to him (here presently came a brisk, evolul ionized Britisher in company with a steward. “Captain Hoyle, sir;” and the steward walked away, leaving the skipper faring a clean-shaven stranger. There was a smile upon the open I'iiee a s ho held out. his band. “My friend in Liverpool advised me of your coming,” ho said. ‘ “Mr. Walls, of Watts, Dunton, in Tower Buildings ?” quoted Doyle, Yes, answered the stranger and (ben suggested a bottle of champagne in i lu* sinukeroom. His name, he said, was Bertram L. C. Wise, ami In* gave it with such confidence that Hoyle almost, believed it. “And about the berth I am to lake, sir?” he said, “t should like to bear something concerning it.” 1 The eyes of (he Yankee twinkled, ami la* emptied bis glass. Then lie passed bis cigar.case to Doyle, and said ; ”We will go on board the ship yon are to command and muter safe she I let* you shall be told all about il- H's nil her 100 private to-dis-miss in (he Majestic's smokeroom, skipper; but 1 can promise you you will find i( inleresl mg.” “Wonder if the A'ank wantts to shanghai me,” thought Doyle. “Ford lie's welcome to I lie attempt.” Tfii* (rim, brant ifnl-lined schooner, w ith her reaching, (apering spars, lay at Filly-second-street Wharf, and averred, ns he stepped across her while grating at tin* gangwayihead, that lu* had never seen such a .clean ship in nil his life. American spick-ami spanness of (he old sailingship type was over her from trucks to copper sheathing against which the dark waters slopped, and every square inch of [fine and (oak revealed its at let* cleanliness, By patient hands, tinder the spotless and shining ropnl varnish. Her white cotton sails lay snowlike in the harbour gasket wrappings, and not a matchstick nor rope yarn, nor yet a visible speck of (iitsi, lay upon her smoothly-oiled decks, either for'ard or aft. Teakwood shone in (lie glare of a snv.agu' summer sun, and Hie white-painted deck-houses might have been (he work of commi.ssioned artists, Not a hair-line was at fault. Even the galley funnel was a tube of burnished steel with a polished brass rim, “Well, cnp’n,” said Wise, smiling ns he noted Doyle’s admiring glances upon the .schooner, “guess you feel mighty proud of such a craft, eh?” “In England!” answered Doyle, “we don’t do things in such a style ; but it’s my ideal.” “And you've found if a t last. Out here ,n the States, you seo, a man has to work hard, nr starve quickly. Me don’t believe in half measures out here.” But If Doyle was enchanted by the schooner s outer works, her inner composition gave him keener delight. The deck-house aft was carpeted, mir-

rdred, and with’ oak panels, artistically carved let into the bulkheads. The chairs were swivelled and plush covered, and the mahogany furniture was brilliant with lustrous polish. Wise touched a bell, and a smart steward appearing, was bid bring refreshments. Wine, biscuits, and sandwiches were placed upon the table, and then, with the door closed Bertram L. C. Wise leaned across the snowy tablecloth, pushed aside the silver tray, and said ; “Now for our business.'' Doyle sipped his wine and waited. Wise chewed a biscuit thoughtfully. “I see, she's pretty well down to her marks, sir,”- said Doyle introductorily. “Quite right, cap'n, I guess she’s loaded and ready for sea ; and all you have to do is to collect your crew and sign them on. I suppose you’ve heard of the Panama Canal, and all the trouble it’s brooding?” “Yes,” answered Doyle wanderingiy. “Well, I’m not exactly a philanthropist, and it does seem as if the ditch is never to advance beyond a dream : but the great American Congress has determined that it shall, and I am going to help Congress and myself all I can to do it.—This way. There's a big revolution getting under way in Panama and round about and the people there have made up thi*ii* minds, like wo once did on the Hh of July, that independence ought to be their mainstay. that that mainstay, like us, they mean to have. “he can’t help the revolution, but wo can help the canal along some by giving a bit of aid to the Northern Columbian people, and I’m the man to seo it, and you the one to carry, it out.” “This doesn’t sound like a shanghaie racket, any way,” thought Tom “Now, the Colombian Government is placing every obstacle in the way of our getting the ditch dug out for commerce, and as the canal has got to be sooner or later, the sooner the better. As to your part of the programme, all you have to do is to take this schooner, Mary Lane, down to Colon, and there deliver her over to Senor Sagassitro, then return (o New York and receive two thousand dollars from me.” “What cargo has she?”* asked Doyle. “Guns (big and small) and explosives.” “And the risks I run ?” “Avoid Colombian warships.” ■"And if I am caught ?”• “You will be hung, drawn, and quartered,” answered Wise, cheerfully* “But I take it, you’re a man of nerve and pluck, and don’t object to carry your life in your hands at a decent insurance rate.” “I’m getting used to that.”* “And remember you're assisting a good work. If you get through with this freight, it’ll give the beggars courage to strike for independence : and they'll win and put a stop to Colombian bloodshed, and the canal will at last become a reality, a ml not a miserable dream, as it now is” Under such circumstances did Tom Doyle command the Mary Lane, He signed on a crow, and within a fortnight was steering across the nor’west Indian Gulf, with Jamaica upon one hand and Haiti upon the other. Everything had, so far passed off comfortably. The crew were well fed and housed, and being sailors of the true American type, carried out their work accurately, and tinkered in spare hours upon their favourite notions. They steered the schooner to a. degree, kept up her standard of cleanliness, and set, shortened, and reefed the snowy canvas with a willingness and despatch. No smoking was permitted upon deck, and Doyle’s hawk-eyes wore for ever scanning the. schooner, to seo that this rule was rigidly obeyed. The mate alone ,was the man with whom Doyle had a shred of trouble. Cross words ware exchanged, and since violence was threatened by the mate upon the skipper’s person, a severe drubbing was administered. But as this lelt the mate in precisely, the same mood and disposition, a pair of irons were put on to his wrists and he was locked in his berth. Doyle himself kept the watch on deck. The mate, however, soon relented, and Doyle, nothing loth, released the officer and expressed a candid hope that the hammering wouldn’t need a second addition. The mate grinned ami went about his work, and that was the end of the matter. In fact Ezra Ingham showed. himself in Ids finest colours, and Tom Doyle had no more staunch supporter than (hat named officer from stern to stem. They yarned ■ in the dog.watdies, and it was' the observance of the skipper one evening that it appeared as if the Mary Lane was to have a clean run through to Colon. And it may bo noted that Doyle made the remark with some disappointment. However lie had no sooner spoken that Ezra Ingham pointed to the weather bow and said : “That’s a queer-looking thing to wind’ard all right. She sits low in the water.” “it's peculiar we haven't seen her before this,” said Doyle, and went to the companion and took from the shelf inside, n telescope. “Well, y’see,” observed the mate, “it’s only the smoke (hat attracted mo, otherwise I mightn’t have seen her at all.” “True enough. Her masts are as thin ns paper, and her funnel's no fatter than a pipe-stem. The man that owns her has no reason to feci proud of her beauty, I’m sure.” The glass was resting upon the poop-rail and suddenly Doyle drew up. “She's altered her course,” he remarked, “and is heading to cross our bows.” “May be steering for some southern port.” “We’ll find that out later. Don't exhibit our lights to-night. 1 can't trust that fellow.’’ But as no lights were shown from the stranger steamer and utter darkness came upon the seas, it seemed j that the other vessel had hauled ) back to her course. Doyle, however, i did not incline to this masoning. | He put the schooner about, and j headed away to pass the steamer’s j stern, as ho certainly believed she i had been heading down for him. 1 Howbcit at midnight, just when he

thought ne was well clear and had put about again on the old tack, a searchlight of third-rate power bro.ke out upon his port beam, throwing the hull and outline of the schooner into snowy relief. The vessel kept her search-light playing upon the Mary Lane, now throwing it aloft, and now upon the decks, and Doyle and Ezra stood on the poop and awaited events. The steamer bore down upon them, and Doyle summed her up with the aid of his glasses. "She’s a crock of a gunboat,”- he said. ‘‘Some old thing belonging to Colombia. 'Well, she’s got us, and there’s no getting away from the fact !” And some time later this was proved to be so. The gunboat sent a gig to the schooner, and her armed crew climbed aboard the -Mary Lane and demanded the captain, •‘Well,” said Doyle, to the armed lieutenant, ‘‘what’s your business hex’e “You’re the ship we’ve been shadowing for three days, captain,” was the quiet reply. “We heard all about you before you left New York, and as you see, are quite ready to receive you.” “On what authority do you arrest mo ?”• “On the authority of Colombia. vSenor Sagassitro’s plot is known t® us, and so, instead of giving your cargo to him, we relievo you of it. As to your cargo, I know to a cartridge what you have ; our agents in New York saw to that. And now, captain, step into my boat and you shall be taken on board the Cormorant cruiser.” Then another boatful of men emptied themselves on to the schooner’s poop, and the mate, under orders, commanded his crow to furl all sail. As the tackles rang sharply, Doyle was pulled away to the Cormorant, He was taken to the cruiser's bridge and arraigned before the captain. He did not palter with the truth. Ho stated that he was gun-running ; but he asked the captain not to forget that the crew of the schooner shipped on board in total ignorance of the fact. The captain nodded and said he would see that the guilty did not go unpunished. While this talk proceeded a tow-rope was passed to the schooner and hilled upon her fo’c’s’le, and the engines of the Cormorant restarted. The searchlight melted upon the ship astern, and Hoyle eyed her beauty as he was bidden below. A strong guard of men accompanied him, and he was soon to learn that the “guilty ” were not to go lung unpunished—at least as far as he was concerned. He was put. into the bunkers to pass coal to the firemen in the stukihold, and In.* was promised that if he sitowed any mutinous conduct be would being punishment upon Ids shoulders for which he little cared. So, to avoid worse humiliation, he acted as he was ordered to act, and after a certain time was bid to the deck to heave up ashes and empty them into the sea. Now, the cruiser Cormorant was nothing but an old merchant, steamer useless for freight and to her owners except tor scrap-iron sale, and the Colombians had picked her up to augment their navy. They dignified her by the name of a. cruiser. She had a speed of twelve knots when in working order, but she was capable of not more than eight in her present stale. Breakdowns and stoppages were common to her, and Doyle had noticed that within four hours she had twice come to a standstill. While Doyle tipped the ash-bucket a third stoppage came, and the Cormorant lay like a dead thing upon the dark and oily waters. The exskipper had, as usual, displayed none of the feelings that tormented him ; but with the vessel stopping he thought of his one chance of escape. ami In.* had good reason to be ready to risk anything in an effort. IK; had been humiliated and insulted by the. gunboat's captain, and fur(lu.*r proceedings ashore must follow. He would be shot ; that he believed without a doubt. As he rushed the ash-bucket back to the tiddley his eyes travelled round the dusty square and sought out the possible strength of his black companions. A fathom or two of dirty rope lay at the tube down which the ash-bucket swung on a clanking chain, and Doyle formulated his plans in an instant. His two companions were joking, and scarcely giving the slightest, attention to Tom; and when a shout came up the tube, one of the tippers descended the stokehold ladder, leaving Doyle with but one companion. There was but one more bucket of ashes to empty, and this being done, the Colombian sat on an angle-iron and rolled a black cigarette. The next minute Doyle had the man by the throat, and bore him skilfully and quietly to the deck. The fellow could not shout, and the fright in his eyes spoke plainly enough that he was willing to obey so that his skin might go untouched. “You move—savvy—end I’ll make you follow tin* ashes we’ve dumped—savvy, negro ?” The man nodded his head. Doyle gagged the man with a sweat rag and a handkerchief, and, casting careful glances around, then bound the dark man's hands behind his back And after this he lashed both legs together, and surveyed his handiwork approvingly, “Hah !” he said, “the smell of this miserable craft makes me feel ill.” lb* stripped his limbs quickly, and with one glance at his safe prisoner, climbed ditto the ash shute and let his body run carefully down. The steamer’s engines were still unmoving and as a swell rolled up to his feet, he let go his hold of the shine's lower rim. and weal down and swam astern. IVlien he came to the surface of the sea lie found himself abreast the Cormorant’s starboard quarter, am! he rested momentarily, looked aruund, and went under once more, and continued a course for the schooner. Her tow-rope was hanging in a huge bight from her catheads, ami men were on her fo'c’s’le shouting ami hauling at the line. A noisy lic-u'enant was leaning over the gunboat's stern. Ezra Ingham was swearing on the schooner's foVslo head. Evidently something w-as very much wrong. When Doyle came to the sea top again he was alongside the Mary Lane, and as her chain [dates soused

down to him "'in' tTus* vessofs easy rolls, ho clung there, ami conned things overhead. To his surprise ho saw the, big fore and aft sails spreading in the darkness, ami discerned some Colombian iiieii-o’-warsiiien hoisting the booms. The voice of Ezra Ingham came loud from the poop, and the song of ihq white hands, hoarse and coarse, filled Doyle's ears as sweetest music. Ho hung to a chain plate, and watched the wings rapidly widen and grow to full size, and he smiled as he listened to Ezra, cursing the Colombians, who were quite unconscious of Hie appellations of. uselessness and suchlike hurled vividly at them. Staysails and jibs went up, and at last the clattering of hanks ceased, and the halliards were belayed and sheets trimmed. “There’s a nice breeze coming,” said Doyle, “and it appears to gal her strength.” Under him white flakes dropped astern, and if ever he had cause to feel proud of the schooner’s lino racesailing qualities, that time was preeminently the present. The Cormorant luckily for him, was passed on the opposite side to where he clung. We waited another five inmates, am] then he pulled his naked body over the bulwark and confronted Ezra Ingham. “Great snakes !” said the mate. "Where in thunders 'avo von sprung from ?’-’ “Never mind that now, Mr. Ingham I’m here, and that's a miracle. Where’s the lieutenant in charge'?”“In the cabin.” “And what has happened ?” “Our tow-rope's fouled the gunboat's propeller, and we’re sailing on our own.” “How many strangers are aboard?” “Twenty. “How are they armed?” “Cutlasses.’'’ “No revolvers ?” “Only the lieutenant.”'’ “They’re all for’ard now ?”- “Every soul.” “Web, I'm going to sneak into your room by way of the fore companion. Conte down as soon as you see me disappear.”“All right.” said Ezra ; a-ml Doyle raced aft the deck and dived into fehe companion, lb* was dressing in a suit of the mate's, when Ezra entered the room. “Well.” lie said, “what next, ?” “Let, me. know as soon as (he lieutenant. goes on clock.” The mate went: out into Iho night, actid Doyle locked (he door of the room, ami when dressed he listened and waited. But his patience was not long tried. Three* short tails (an arranged signal) admitted Ezra. “The lieutenant’s on deck,” he said, “busy reading a signal from the Cormorant.” “How far is she'off?” “Throe miles.” “ Any hands with him ?”- “Not a one.” “Then our work's easy,” whispered Doyle, ■■[’nt going to make him a prisoner, ami you stand by ready to assist if necessary.” The two men crept, on deck. The lieutenant had his back to Doylo and Ezra, and with a heavy spring the snipper was upon the lieutenant and tripped him to the dock, lie made a stout resistance, and would not surrender without a good bailie, and meanwhile the men-o-war’s men, hearing the souffle came running aft. They were met at the poop break by two determined white men and a brace of revolvers, and if ever a situation was commanded this one was. Two men climbed the weather ladder of the poop, but their onrush was met by Belayingpin strokes, and the belligerents staggered back, beaten. If looks could kill, Doyle and Ezra would not have lived a minute, and only for the belief that they courted certain death the cruiser’s men would have charged. For a good reason no shots were fired; the revolvers were empty. Had they been loaded the noise of firing would have aroused the Cormorant to suspicion of the truth, so that in no case would Doyle have sent a bullet. But the Colombians know nothing of it all. They allowed the schooner’s crew to handcuff them and two hours later saw their own steamer die out ®n the northern sealine. And when Doyle made fast at one of the Colon wharves a day further on in this history he reported to Senor Sagassitro, who met him with open arms, that the Cormorant was no doubt still idling in the sea, and helpless against capture, ■Hist as it happened, the guns and ammunition not, only saved the revolutionaries from annihilation by tho Government troops, but so effectually armed the opponents that a great battle was won, and was perhaps the greatest factor in gaining the northern provinces of Colombia an independence now known as tac State of 'Panama. And by this was gained that project which is an ideal of civilization and commerce for the world—all opposition to tho cutting of that much-fought-ovor neck of land the Isthmus of Panama. America has her way, and the world may not be sorry, and there seems every promise that the incomplete work of the great French organizer may in a few years be carried through. Doyle returned to New York, was promptly paid his dollars by a wellpleased employer, and hooked a passage per first steamer to Liverpool. It, is a pity, though, he refused to command the new Panamanian navy, inaugurated by the capture of the Cormorant. “A safe ship is my fancy,” ho retorts when I argue with him, “although I'm not particular whether she carried guns or honest cargo.” To be Continued.