No Moss: or, The Career of a Rolling Stone. Castlemon Harry
confined in one of them. But their efforts to ascertain the whereabouts of their unlucky companions were unrewarded, and, after half an hour's fruitless search, even Sam began to get discouraged.
"Mebbe they have taken them to the village already," he whispered, leaning disconsolately against a corner of the house. "If they have, the expedition is up stump, easy enough, an' we can bid good-by to all hopes of ever seein' our island. What's that? Didn't you hear some one call?"
"I thought I did," replied Friday, "but I wasn't sartin'."
"I say, governor, are you deaf? Look this way. Here we are."
The words seemed to come from the ground at their very feet; and the governor and Friday heard them plainly enough this time. Their attention was drawn to one of the cellar windows, and there they saw the two prisoners, with their faces pressed close against the bars.
"What are you doin' down there?" asked Friday, in an excited whisper. "Are you locked up?"
"I reckon," replied Xury. "We wouldn't stay here if we wasn't, would we?"
"O, now, yes, we're locked up," drawled Tom, who, delighted as he was at seeing the chief, could not forget his lazy way of talking. "But you are going to let us out, are you not?"
"Sartin. That's what we come here fur, an' we'll do it if we have to burn the shantee."
"You needn't go to all that trouble, governor," said Xury. "Do you see that door around there on the other side of the house?"
Sam walked around the building, and when he came back, he said that he had seen the door.
"Well," continued Xury, "all you have got to do is to raise a rumpus out there, an' awaken the people up stairs."
"Humph!" sneered Sam.
"Hold on till I get through, governor. Of course, when they hear you, they'll come out an' foller you; an' when the men have all left the house, one of you can slip back an' cut down that door an' let us out. Here's an ax to do it with," he added, passing the implement through the window to the chief.
"That's a good idea, after all," said Sam.
"Friday, you take the ax, an' I'll do the runnin'. I'll lead the fellers toward the beach, an' you stay here an' watch your chance to beat down that door. How many folks are there in the house, Xury?"
"Ten altogether – six men an' boys, an' four women," was the reply. "I know, 'cause I counted 'em."
"Of course, the women will stay in the house," continued the governor, addressing himself to Friday; "an' when they hear you cuttin' at the door, they'll be sartin to come out an' holler at you; but that needn't scare you. Now, then, how shall we awaken the folks?"
The chief had scarcely propounded this question, when it was answered in way he had not expected. A window above him was thrown open, a head appeared, and a voice called out, "Well, I swan!"
The governor and his man did not wait to hear what the farmer had to say next. The enemy were aroused, and an opportunity was given them to try the plan Xury had suggested. Friday, who well understood the part he was expected to perform, sprang around the house out of sight; while Sam started across the field toward the beach.
"Stop there, you young rascal!" shouted the man in the window. "Josh! Bill! Wake up, an' get out there! Those robbers have come back again!"
The window came down with a crush, and Friday, who had by this time concealed himself behind a corn-crib, a short distance from the cellar door, heard a great commotion in the house. Lights flashed from the windows, men and women run about calling to each other, and presently the door opened and Josh and Bill appeared.
"There they are!" exclaimed one discovering Sam, who was by this time well on his way across the field; "hurry up there, boys. He's got a long start, and is running like a scared turkey."
These last words were addressed to the men in the house, who came out one after another, some without their hats, some bare-footed, others pulling on their coats as they ran, and all following after Bill and Josh, who were flying across the field in hot pursuit of the governor. Friday, from his hiding-place, counted them as they sprang down the steps, and when the sixth man had left the house, and was out of sight in the darkness, he straightened up and prepared for action. He listened a moment to the shrill, excited voices of the women, and clutching his ax with a firm hold, he came out from behind the corn-crib and ran toward the house. A few rapid steps brought him to the cellar door, which he attacked furiously. The first blow he struck echoed through the cellar like a peal of thunder, alarming the women up stairs; and the second brought them to the porch, where they stood watching Friday's operations in speechless amazement. The Crusoe man, intent on releasing his companions, gave no heed to what was going on around him, until a chorus of angry screams arose from the porch; then he started and trembled a little, but was not frightened from his work. He redoubled his efforts, the door began to bend and groan, and was finally forced from its fastenings, and Tom and his mate sprang out. Then the screams arose in greater volume than before, and reached the ears of the farmer and his men, who abandoned the pursuit of the governor, and returned to the house with all possible speed. But they were too late; for, long before they arrived, Tom and his companions had made good their escape. The shattered door, and the ax lying where Friday had thrown it after effecting the release of the prisoners, were all that were left to remind the farmer of the Crusoe band.
CHAPTER VII.
THE GOVERNOR STORMS THE REBELS
"Hip! hip! hurrah!" exclaimed Tom Newcombe, in an excited whisper, "I am free once more, and I'll have a chance yet to destroy that yacht. If the crew of the Storm King only knew what is going to happen, they would be sorry that I escaped."
"You can thank me for it," said Sam.
"An' me, too," chimed in Xury. "I was the one who found the ax in the cellar an' studied up the plan the governor carried out."
"I guess I had oughter have a little of the praise," observed Friday. "It aint every feller who would have stood there an' cut down that door with all them women hollerin' at him."
"We've all done well," said the chief, "all except Will Atkins an' Jack Spaniard, an' they are cowards an' traitors."
The Crusoe men were gathered on the bluff at the head of the path, sweating and panting, and congratulating themselves on the success of their undertaking. The governor, especially, regarded it as something well worth boasting of, and he was in excellent spirits. His society, although it had thus far failed to accomplish the object for which it was organized, had already made for itself a brilliant record. It had performed an exploit in the village that would be talked about and wondered at as long as the military academy should stand, or the present generation of boys exist. Its members, acting under his instructions, had overpowered three times their number of students, captured their vessel, and would certainly have got out to sea with her but for the treachery of Tom Newcombe. But, great as was this achievement, it sank into insignificance when compared with the one they had just performed. The chief had succeeded in releasing the prisoners confined in the farm-house, and that, too, with the assistance of only one companion, and in the face of a mutiny that had, at one time, bid fair to break up the Crusoe band. The governor assumed the lion's share of the honor of this exploit, and, as he thought, with good reason, for he had run all the risk. He had led the men away from the house, and given Friday a chance to cut down the door. His affairs had looked desperate a little while before, but by his skill and determination he had succeeded in bringing some order out of the confusion, and the only thing that remained to be done was to punish the traitors, which was a matter he could attend to at his leisure. He believed that the rebellion had already died out, and that, when he descended into the cove, he would find the mutineers ready to accept any terms he might see fit to offer them.
"What's become of Atkins and Jack Spaniard?" asked Tom, who seemed, for the first time, to notice the absence of those worthies. "I don't see them anywhere."
"Didn't I say that they were traitors and cowards?" replied the governor. "Listen, now, an' I'll tell you all about it."
Sam then proceeded to give Tom and his mate a glowing description of the mutiny, and, during the course of his narration, he artfully aroused