The Black Star: A School Story for Boys by Andrew H. Walpole - HTML preview

CHAPTER XVIII
CONCLUSION

"Jingo!" said Jack, excitedly; "they're after us—I can hear them! Buck up, you fellows—we'll spurt and beat 'em yet."

In Jack and Silver the escaping skiff carried perhaps the best oarsmen at Deepwater College; and they now bent to their task with a will, and Fane and Billy Faraday, who were rowing in the bows, took example from their pals.

The skiff shot ahead; the ripple of water from the bow changed into a rushing, steady note. The sea was calm as a millpond, and now that they were out into the bay, the sound of the pursuing motor-boat came staccato and clear.

There was no pretence now of hugging the shore; they were making a bee-line for the College jetty. But they were visible to the men on board the motor-boat; and, fast though they were going, there was no question as to which craft showed the superior speed. The white speck of the power launch grew in size until it was almost distinct in the starlight.

Lazare, or Humbolt, or perhaps both of them, were shouting—but the grimly-determined schoolboys paid no heed. As if they intended to pull up! But the miscreants in the launch had another argument—and a more forcible one.

There came the clear report of a revolver, surprisingly minute in the enormous space of the bay, and a bullet ricochetted from the surface not eight feet from the skiff.

"I say—" began Billy.

"Don't say anything," said Patch tersely. "Two can play at that game, Humbolt! Give me that pistol, Jack."

"What are you going to do?" asked Billy, straining at his oar.

Patch did not reply. He turned round, and waited until a red flash and a delayed explosion advertised another shot. Then he lifted his pistol carefully, and fired two shots in rapid succession at the pursuing craft.

Some sort of a result was instantly perceptible. There came a distinct thump! and a snarling sort of noise that ended rather abruptly. Followed by three shots from Humbolt in quick time, all of which were without effect, although they whistled unpleasantly close.

"Pull!" sang out Patch. "Pull like the dickens! I believe I've stonkered their engine. Listen—she's misfiring like anything!"

Indeed, the explosions of the petrol launch were now decidedly irregular—and after a while they ceased altogether.

"Done them!" panted Jack. "Diddled the beggars again! Patch, you ought to get a King's Prize for that shot!"

Triumphantly the Deepwater College fellows pulled at their oars, and there was still no sound from the rival boat. After an interval the engine took up its beat again—but slowly and uncertainly, as if it were likely to break down at any moment.

"They're going slow!" announced Patch. "We can dish them at this rate. Isn't that the Coll. jetty across there? By jove, there's a light—it must be the Head! Pull up, my giddy buccaneers!"

Falling to the oars with a will, the boat's crew soon arrived at the jetty. They listened there for any sound of the petrol launch's engine; but the immense bay was quite still.

"They've broken down," said Fane, "or else they've turned back, and we can't hear them. What price capturing the beggars! Get hold of Mr. Glenister, and a few hefty fellows out of the Sixth, and we could grab them."

"If so, we mustn't lose any time," said Patch. "Come along, you fellows!"

They raced back to the College, and hurried in through a window that they had conveniently left open.

There they had the greatest surprise of the night. They were moving along the masters' corridor, on their way to the Head's study, when Doctor Daw's door opened, and the accomplice of Lazare himself appeared. He was carrying a handbag, and wore an overcoat—his other attire was all for travelling.

Lightning comprehension burst on Jack's brain.

"You third-rate scoundrel!" he said. "So you're getting out of it, are you?"

"Getting out of what?" snarled Daw, obviously affrighted by the coincidence of the boy's arrival and his departure.

"You know," returned Jack grimly. "You'd better stay, though, because the game's up."

"I don't know what you mean!" ground out Daw savagely. "Let me pass, you young cubs, or I'll find a way to make you!"

And he lifted his arm threateningly. It was a fatal move. Young Fane, the bully-killer, had a habit of jumping through the air and collaring people who thus threatened him. He jumped now, and his healthy weight, slung around in the vicinity of Daw's neck, hurled the master to the floor with a resounding crash. Jack, only a whit slower than his pal, jumped too, and the both of them held the fellow pinned to the floor.

But Daw was really desperate. What had given him the alarm—had sent him out of his room, in escape, at this hour—was not obvious. But what was obvious was that he was madly anxious to get away. He fought like two men, and the two powerful boys had their work cut out to secure him. Once he planted a fist in Jack's face with tremendous force, and Fane alone kept up the struggle.

But Billy and Silver were at hand, and, recovering from their indecision, they too hurled themselves upon the villain.

Suddenly the Head's room was opened, and the Head, in dressing-gown and carrying a light, appeared on the scene. He saw five persons struggling in an inextricable knot upon his floor, and for the moment he did not know what to think. His first thought was that these were burglars; then he recognized his own boys.

"Patch! Silver!" he ejaculated. "What is this disgraceful conduct? What do you mean by being out of—"

At that moment Fane secured an expert wrestling hold upon the struggling Daw, and that person, recognizing defeat, burst into a torrent of quite unprintable profanity.

"My goodness!" exclaimed the Head, his ears assaulted by the outburst. "Daw—is that you? And what is the meaning of this?"

"I'll tell you what it means," said Jack trenchantly. "This man here is in league with a couple of kidnappers and thieves, and we're holding him for inspection. You'd better telephone to the police, sir. His friends are out on the bay with a couple of revolvers and a damaged motor-boat."

"It's a lie," roared Daw, accompanying the words with a few vile adjectives.

"That will do, Daw," said the Head coldly. "There is no need to swear like that—even if this charge is a false one. Surely you can make some explanation. I cannot believe that you are—"

"Sir," said Jack boldly, "I make no charge I cannot support some way or other. This man is dangerous, and I give you my word of honour that he should be tied up pending explanation. He must not be allowed to escape."

There was something in the earnestness of the boy's tone that had an effect upon the Head. Daw, writhing and cursing ineffectually, was not a sight calculated to inspire one with a sense of his innocence. Patch settled the question by producing the revolver and holding it to Daw's head, while the others bound his hands and feet.

"This must be explained," said the Head grimly. His eyebrows had gone up at the sight of the revolver, but its effect had been to lend colour to a somewhat fantastic story. "I was seeking a little relaxation," he explained, "by a quiet hour of reading, being unable to sleep. I am interrupted—but come into my study."

In the study, accordingly, the full story was told, and the Head was vastly surprised. Jack withheld nothing—even describing the various nocturnal excursions that the Star had necessitated. The adventure of the Indian hawker and the substitution of a dummy for Billy in the Upper Fifth class, however, he deemed it advisable to suppress.

"You have been very frank, my boy," said the Head approvingly, "and I quite believe your story. It is a thing that I never imagined would happen at Deepwater—it seems, you must admit, utterly far-fetched. No doubt you would have been well advised to have made a confidant of myself or one of your masters at an earlier stage, but I am glad that everything has turned out for the best. The only thing that remains is the apprehension of those two criminals on the boat."

"It is nearly daylight, sir," said Patch. "If you were to ring up the police-station at Windsor, no doubt the police could prevent the escape of the men!"

"I shall do so, and at once," said the Head. "It is highly necessary that they should be taken. And as for Redisham of the Sixth, I must find occasion to speak severely to him. In my opinion he is more misguided than depraved, and a word at this stage will mean all the difference for him."

"I think he could be let off lightly, sir," said Billy. "He's not a bad fellow at heart, but I fancy Daw had some hold over him."

"Whatever that hold may have been," said the Head gravely, "I imagine that it will be valueless in the near future. The authorities will be able to see to that. And now I must ring the police-station."

He did so, and with the result that, promptly advised of the facts, the police secured their men the next day, and were greatly pleased to have caught Lazare in particular. The man had been wanted for years, but had always had just that skill to keep clear of their meshes.

Billy put his case in the hands of a lawyer, and the three associates were convicted—and in one of His Majesty's prisons were kept from mischief for a period of many years.

The four friends in Study 9 were not displeased that the exciting events of the term had now come to a definite stop. As Billy remarked, holding the flashing, sparkling Star in his hand, "It was pretty fierce while it lasted, but the pace was a killer! I'm glad it's all over, real glad. Although it's served to give me three of the best pals a fellow ever had.... Yes, chaps, it's all over—the excitement's done. And the Black Star will be in Mason's hands before we return for next term."

The Eagle Press, Ltd., Allen Street, Waterloo.