CHAPTER VIII.
HOW IT WORKED OUT.
What with the stunning effect of the blow he had received as he was swung against the schooner's stern works and the shock of the accident which had followed, Nat's senses almost left him for an instant. Like one in a dream he hung there, just under the swell of the vessel's counter and listened to the voices above him. They were Colonel Morello's and Ed. Dayton's.
"What in the name of Beelzebub was it?" he heard Dayton's harsh voice inquiring.
"I don't know. I could have sworn for an instant that I saw the flash of a hand through the window," growled out Morello—evidently from the nearness of the sound he still had his head outside the cabin port.
"Bah! How could that be?" scoffed Dayton from within, "unless the schooner is haunted. It must have been the last lurch she gave."
"That must have been it," agreed Morello, withdrawing his head, "but, at any rate, our supply of liquor was knocked off that shelf and the bottle broken. What do you say if we go forward and get some more?"
"The very thing," Nat could hear Dayton reply. The next instant he heard the slam of a door float through the open port above him and knew that the cabin must be empty.
Now was his time to act then, and fortunately for him, with his returning senses there had come a slight lull in the wind. The schooner was steadier, and by dint of pressing his knees against her structure when he climbed above the overhang of the stern he managed to ascend at a famous rate.
All at once he found himself opposite the cabin window once more. The blind or shade that his unlucky swing had knocked aside was now open, however, and he could plainly see the interior of the place. His curiosity quite overcame his prudence, as, steadying himself by pressing his feet into some scroll work contrived about the vessel's name on the stern, he gazed eagerly into the apartment which was lighted by a powerful hanging lamp.
But hardly had his eyes taken in the details of the place and observed that it was empty, Dayton and Morello having both departed to replenish the spirit bottle, before his eyes lit on something that made him start and hold his breath. In plain view within and right below the cabin window was the sapphire chest.
From his position Nat could almost by an effort have reached within and touched it. The sight of the plundered box raised within him a strange feeling of anger against the rascals who had stolen it. All fear seemed to drop from him like a garment. As he gazed one of those strange accessions of desperate resolve which come sometimes in moments of intense peril visited him.
"Why would it not be possible to regain the box, and, in the event of their plan being successfully carried out, take it with them in the boat?"
It seemed to Nat that hardly had the idea flashed into his mind before, impelled by some strange, irresistible resolve, he was within the cabin, having scrambled through the port, dragging his rope in with him. Barefooted as he was, he made no more noise than a panther tracking its game.
In the same noiseless manner in which he had entered the place he glided across the carpeted floor to the door leading on to the deck, by means of a companionway. Within it was a heavy bolt and massive chain, relics no doubt of the same epoch that had witnessed the construction of the specie room. It was the work of an instant to slip the bolt into place and then adjust the chain. This done, the lad was secure from interruption for a few moments at any rate. Even if he could not accomplish the feat of transferring the chest to the boat he could at least carry out a desperate resolve he had formed. This was no less than at all hazards to deprive the rascals of the benefits they had filched. Nat had determined that if he were discovered before he had had time to complete his work that he would heave the chest through the port and into the sea, thus losing the sapphire hoard to Morello and his men for all time.
But Nat had high hopes that he would have time to put through the plan of escape as he and Captain Nelsen had planned it out together. Slipping back across the cabin floor, he took the end of his rope and made a double half hitch around the chest, which, to his surprise, was not nearly as heavy as he had imagined it would be. This, however, he attributed to his excitement.
He had just completed this work and was about to heave the chest, with the rope attached, out of the port when something happened that seemed to drive every drop of blood in his body into his heart and then send it racing in a mad torrent through his veins.
Click!
This was the sound that had made Nat glance up from his work in time to behold one of the stateroom doors that opened off the cabin swinging ajar.
The next instant it was opened fully and the huge form of Swensen, the giant Swede, stalked out.
Nat was motionless as a frightened rabbit. In the dreadful crisis he was temporarily deprived of the power of crying out or moving.
Swensen's eyes fixed themselves on the boy with a peculiar expression, and in his bare feet—for he was in his night clothes—he began to advance toward him. Closer and closer he came and still Nat stood, held by a dreadful spell that bound his limbs and fettered his tongue—not indeed that it would have done him any good to have cried out.
But suddenly—just as suddenly as he had appeared—Swensen turned and in the same slow, deliberate way started back toward his cabin. It was then that Nat noted something that in his alarm he had not seen before.
The man was asleep!
He had walked out of his cabin in a fit of somnambulism, or sleep-walking, and now he reentered it again and doubtless climbed back into his bunk.
Hardly had his immense bony form vanished and the door clicked to behind him once more before Nat had the chest out of the port and then when it swung at the end of the rope, dropping like the weight on a plumb line, he followed it.
His rope was now much easier to climb, for it was steadied by the weight of the chest at its lower end. The length of the line was sufficient to allow the chest to dangle within a foot or two of the water.
With renewed courage Nat swarmed on up the rope and presently was able to poke his head over the taffrail. As Captain Nelsen had said, the helmsman, by reason of the peculiar steering device of the "Nettie Nelsen," was some little distance from the stern, forming an additional protection in the work that lay before him. Between Nat and the man at the wheel there was a big pile of canvas and boxes, apparently left there by some of the gang after they had ransacked the schooner.
At any rate, Nat managed to clamber up into the boat, which hung out on her davits, without attracting any attention from the man. Once in the boat, the lad took a swift look about him. At the helm was the steersman, a soft light thrown up on his rugged features from the binnacle. From forward some stentorian voice was roaring out a chorus. Nat devoutly hoped that the noise might keep up, for it was not to be supposed that he could lower the boat in absolute quietness.
All at once something happened that sent him crouching down in the bottom of the dingy. Morello and Dayton suddenly appeared on the stern. The former addressed the helmsman.
"We're in for some bad weather, Larsen. You'll have to stand an extra trick at the wheel, for all hands will be needed on the sails."
As he listened, Nat noticed what in his excitement he had hitherto overlooked. A remarkable change had come over the night. The stars were blotted out and the wind had fallen till it was almost a dead calm. In the lull the schooner rolled heavily, her sails flapping and her blocks cracking complainingly.
Suddenly off to the west a vivid red streak split the sky. It was followed after an interval by the heavy booming of thunder.
"I'll go below and call Swensen," Nat heard Dayton say.
The boy's pulses bounded. If Dayton carried out this resolve, it meant that he would discover that the cabin door was locked on the inside and suspicion would instantly be aroused. In the search which would certainly follow he would be discovered, and also Captain Nelsen. What their fate would be in such a case Nat dared not think.
But fortunately Colonel Morello vetoed this proposal.
"Let him have his sleep out," he said; "the storm won't be on us for some time yet, and Hicks can take care of the work of shortening sail."
"Well, how about that old sea horse, Captain Nelsen?" were the next words of Dayton. Nat's heart fairly stood still for an instant and then gave a terrified bound as Colonel Morello exclaimed:
"By Beelzebub, I had forgotten him. Go below and rout him out.”