CHAPTER VII.
TWO BRAVE LADS AT BAY.
"Are you there, Sandy?"
Through the darkness in the hold of the tug, in which they were confined (and which had recently been the place of Tom's captivity), Jack's voice reached the Scotch lad.
"I dinna ken. But I think so," he responded cautiously. "Some of me's here, anyhow. Whist, Jack, we're in a tight place."
"And a dark one, too," said Jack gloomily.
"What d'ye think they'll do wi' us?"
"I have no notion. But what they have done already gives a sufficient idea of what they are capable of. There may be bigger rascals on earth than this outfit, but I don't know where you'd look for them."
"By the peak of Ben Nevis, that was a dire crack on the head that Captain Mangler gave me when they attacked us in that lumber yard."
"His name's Rangler—though 'Mangler' would about fit him," rejoined Jack. "They didn't strike me, but just picked me up and stifled my cries—just as I was going to the rescue of the poor professor, too, I fear they may have killed him."
"I dinna think so. But I hope he is not on board this tug."
"Why?"
"Because, if he is, there'll be no one left behind to give a clue as to our whereabouts."
"Even if they could, I don't see what good it would do," was the gloomy rejoinder. "Poor Tom's still missing, and——"
"Whist, lad! Dinna be downcast. Tom will turn oop—like a bad penny—not that he is one, but in a manner of speaking. I'm sure he's all right. He will look out for himself and rescue us, too, I'll bet ye a siller bit."
"I hope you are right, Sandy, but this is surely a disastrous ending to what promised to be a pleasure trip."
"There's a linin' of bonnie gold to every cloud," comforted the philosophical Sandy. "But," he added with Scotch candor, "I'm blessed if I can see aught but the cloud the noo'."
There was silence for a time.
"Let's explore this place a bit," suggested Jack presently.
"Too dark," responded Sandy, "we might fall into some trap-door or hole."
"We can feel our way with our hands—oh!" and Jack almost laughed at his mistake—"mine are handcuffed."
"Mine, too, but I hadna' forgotten the fact," said Sandy dryly.
"I suppose, then, we must wait here till somebody comes."
"I guess that's aboot it. It's no' vera cheerful, but it can't be helped, as the man said when they were gangin' to hang him."
The vibration of the propeller of the tug could be plainly felt. The whole craft shook with it. It was clear that all the speed possible was being crowded on.
The heat, too, grew almost stifling. The hold was back of the boiler room, in which forced draught was being kept up, while the steam-gauges showed a pressure almost up to bursting point. Walstein and Dampier, after safely gaining the tug, following the chase through the lumber yard, had decided to lose no time in putting all the distance possible between themselves and Rockport. Their joyful reception of the news that, although they had lost Tom Dacre, his place had been taken by his brother Jack, may be imagined. Sandy they did not care so much about. They did not know that his father was quite as rich—or richer—than Chisholm Dacre. But both had been warm in their congratulations to Captain Rangler on what they deemed his clever capture.
"Phew-w-w-w! This place is like a furnace," observed Jack, after another silence of some duration. "How about you, Sandy?"
"It's hot, all right. I'd give a whole lot for a drink of water. I feel as dry as a stale loaf of bread."
"Talking of bread, I wonder if they mean to starve us or let us die of thirst?"
"Impossible to tell. I dinna ken what they mean to do. I suppose they are capable of anything."
"Yes, the inhuman ruffians! But what is worrying me is, that, supposing they don't mean to starve us, or let us die of thirst, what do they mean to do with us?"
The question was a puzzling one.
"If they don't kill us, they'll have to keep us with them all the time," said Sandy gloomily, after a while.
"Maybe they'll maroon us, like they did down in the tropics. There are plenty of islands in this part of Lake Huron."
"Yes, but this isn't an untraveled region, like it was down there. In course of time we should be picked up."
"Hum! Yes, that's so. Tell you what, Sandy, if we get a chance to escape, we'll make for some island and hide there till an opportunity comes to get off."
"Jack, do you recall that island where the ghost was snoopin' around? Ye ken the one I mean?"
"Do I? I should say so. Well, that was as tight a scrape as this, but we got out of it, all right."
"So we did," agreed Sandy, cheering up, and with almost a lively ring in his tones, "and that fix was our own fault, too. If we hadn't tried tricks on the professor and got tied to that turtle, we wouldn't have been marooned."
"Well, in this case we haven't even the satisfaction of blaming ourselves," whimsically remarked Jack.
The hours wore slowly away. At first the long wait in the darkness was merely tedious. Then it began to grow painful, and at length, such were the boys' thirst and hunger and suffering from the intense heat, that they went almost crazy.
Work as they would at their bonds, they could not loosen them. The steel bracelets resisted all efforts to unfasten them. To make matters worse, when the lads flung themselves wearily down to try and pass the interminable hours in the forgetfulness of sleep, they found that they were not the sole tenants of the hold.
Huge rats presently began scampering about. The creatures at first rushed off when the boys cried "Scat!" But, after a time, they grew bolder, and came in legions. The lads could hear their squeakings and bickerings as they nosed about them. It was truly a horrible sensation. Little red eyes, like needlepoints of fire, burned through the darkness, and Jack recalled tales he had read of prisoners whose bones had been picked of flesh by the loathsome rodents.
"They'd find us tough picking," laughed Sandy, when Jack communicated his fears, but in his easy manner the Scotch lad concealed a world of real, almost desperate, anxiety.
Their position was plainly growing more and more untenable. Already their heads felt as if they would burst from the intense heat and stuffiness of the hold. Then, too, their long fast had made them weak. Queer buzzings sounded in their ears. Shapes, that they knew were unreal, flitted through the darkness, like forms compounded of greenish, luminous smoke.
And still the tug raced along. The roar of her laboring engines filled the little craft, making her quiver from stem to stern.
"Wonder where on earth she can be?" thought Jack, in a dull sort of semi-stupid voice.
"I dinna ken, an' before long it willna' matter to us, anyhow," was Sandy's miserable response. All his fund of hopefulness had vanished.
As if in mockery at his words, the rats squeaked louder than ever as he uttered them. Their little bright eyes darted here and there in the darkness before the boys' swimming vision, like thousands of crazy fireflies. Clearly, if help did not come soon, there would be two less among the company the tug was carrying across Lake Huron, at racing speed.