“this,” said tom pagdin, “is the pirate’s hour!”
it was. if any disinterested chronicler of piratical life could have beheld tom—that ragged buccaneer in miniature—holding the muzzle of dan creyton’s winchester to the prisoner’s ear, and seen dave’s red head bobbing about the jungle in the nervous restlessness of victory, he would have got to work on the picture without delay.
“now, sour krout!” continued the victorious pirate, “i’m goin’ to give you sailin’ orders, an’ remember she’s got ten shots in her yet!”
he issued his commands. george and dave were to launch and bring the pirates’ boat round the island, dan was to walk in front with the shot gun, while he urged petit on from behind with the loaded winchester.
when tom broke this news to the escapee the latter appealed to dan with threats. dan observed briefly that tom was taking all the responsibility, and hinted that he had the best end of the argument. if the boy was wrong and petit was right, the matter could be[190] adjusted afterwards. meanwhile he advised him to do as he was told. thereat tom, perceiving that his new found friend was not going to interfere with him, pressed the cold muzzle of the rifle against the convict’s head, and convinced him that obedience was good.
it was an interesting procession, but petit did not seem to appreciate it thoroughly. every time he as much as looked round tom would prod him in the back of the neck with his gun, and order “eyes front.”
when petit growled he girded him with unpleasing remarks and uncomplimentary nicknames. as soon as they reached the boats tom disposed his prisoner in the bow with due ceremony, and sat facing him, with the winchester, while dan rowed.
for further security he commanded the other boat to keep in close attendance, and ordered dave for’ard, armed with dan’s gun, giving him strict instructions to open fire at the first sign of hostilities. and dave knelt down while george rowed, and took frequent aim at petit to assure him that he was prepared to obey orders.
“all we want now,” observed tom, as the boats pulled out slowly into the stream “is a band. it don’t seem quite right without a band, but i reckon they’ll fix that up afterwards.”
“yes,” observed dan, “i daresay you’ll get a reception in wharfdale if that rifle don’t go off accidentally before we get there!”
“pity we couldn’t send ’em word we was comin’,” mused the pirate chief. “they might make up a procession.”
[191]
“very likely they would,” said dan. “the mayor would probably attend, and the aldermen and the principal citizens. you’ll be a hero, tom, anyway.”
“that’s all right,” remarked tom; “but we ain’t done half what we was goin’ to do, me an’ dave. we ain’t made no raids, nor fought with any man-o’-war, nor had any duels with other pirates, nor anything.”
“never mind,” said dave, by way of consolation, “you’ve made a pretty valuable capture.”
“him!” said tom, with contempt, flourishing the rifle at petit. “oh, he’s nothing—only a cold-blooded german. it’s the germans that’s ruinin’ this country, and spoilin’ the pirate business. i’ve heard the old man talkin’ about the way them germans was makin’ things hard for white folks, but i never understood it like i do now.”
when they came within hail of the shore tom commanded dan and george to cease rowing.
“we ought ter hold a consultation of war,” he said, “afore we give up the prisoner; we oughter get it in writin’ that the admiral will have him ’ung at the yard arm before six bells. that’s the way they uster do.”
“i am afraid,” replied dan, “that we’ll have to leave out that part of the ceremony. besides the admiral is out of town and has taken the fleet with him.”
by this time a small crowd of curious people had commenced to assemble on the bank. this was what tom pagdin wanted.
he lay off and waited, killing time with trifles of persiflage and badinage until the entire town turned out.[192] then he stood up in the boat, and with one eye on the scowling face of jean petit, he gave the crowd a little of that gentleman’s history, and instructed them to get the strongest cell in the lock-up aired at once for his reception.
when the people got an inkling of what had happened, they howled questions at dan and george.
but dan simply referred them to tom pagdin. he said that tom was the commander of a pirate fleet which happened to be in the offing, and that he had just dropped in at wharfdale to clear up the mysteries of the bank robbery and murder which had been agitating their minds. he added dryly that it was mainly for the sake of giving his friend chard an opportunity to bring libel actions against some prominent amateur detectives in wharfdale that he had taken a temporary commission under captain thomas pagdin.
“why it’s that young tom pagdin that was lost up the river!” cried an excited citizen.
“an’ the red-headed kid’s dave gibson,” said another. “they’ve been dragging the broadstream for ’em the last two weeks, everybody up there thought they was drounded!”
“well i never!” ejaculated a woman in hearing. “them two. you don’t tell me that they had anything to do with the robbery of the bank?”
and every youth in wharfdale wished at that moment that he was tom pagdin or dave gibson.
“hadn’t we better go ashore now,” suggested dan.
“hold on!” cried tom. “they’ve got to give me[193] and dan a free pardon first, i’m going to hold him as a ’ostage until we get it.”
“you have already turned queen’s evidence,” said dan, gravely, “and the free pardon comes as a matter of course. i am the postmaster here, and i keep the free pardon forms in my office. i’ll see to that. all you have to do is to tell the truth, or as much of it as you can remember, and instruct dave to do the same.”
the excitement at the landing of the prisoner was such as wharfdale in all its history had never known.
the news was telegraphed from one to another, and from the very outskirts of the town breathless inhabitants, young and old, came running to the river bank. even the town cripple was in attendance.
dogs followed their owners, met enemies and fought, but for once a dog-fight went unnoticed.
the keel of the boat stuck in the mud at the edge.
tom ordered the crowd off and they obeyed. then he commanded petit: “right turn! march!” and petit cursed and obeyed also.
the pirate captain was tasting the sweets of power.
the people fell back and made a lane. dan went up to the policeman and spoke to him.
the constable stepped beside the prisoner.
he did not raise any objections when tom and dave, still armed, walked behind until they came up to the lock-up, with the crowd at their heels, talking excitedly, and jostling one another along the roadway.
when tom and dave passed inside the station with dan and george chard, the people lined along the[194] fence, theorising and arguing. it was nearly an hour before dan re-appeared, and he had to get up on a stump and tell the people what had happened. the town would have signed a unanimous petition to the postmaster-general to remove him at once if he had not done it.
so he got up and spoke all he knew about petit, and about the way tom had acted on the island. he said that he probably owed his life to tom, who was a juvenile hero and a credit to the district. there had, he believed, been a lot of talk in wharfdale about the bank robbery, and suspicion had fallen on an innocent man, but the recovery of the five hundred sovereigns (which he had just had the pleasure of handing over to the officer in charge, until such time as the whole matter was dealt with by a jury) showed that they had been wrong. it should be a lesson to them. the matter of the bank robbery was practically cleared up. the prisoner inside, on being questioned by the police, had admitted the robbery. he was a desperate man, an escapee from new caledonia, and a charge of murder would be preferred against him at once.
the crowd cheered dan. when george chard came out of the station a prominent resident rushed and caught him by the hand. he was a j.p., and congratulated george fervently. when the people saw that the law as well as the evidence was with george, they all wanted to shake hands and congratulate him, too.
but george said simply that it was tom pagdin who deserved their congratulations and applause. only[195] for tom the affair might never have been cleared up, and he might have lived on for years under a vague cloud of suspicion. it was tom’s pluck and promptness which had brought them all out of the mess, and probably saved more than one life.
the constable brought tom and dave to the door of the station, gave them a good friendly clap on the back each, and handed them over to wharfdale. and wharfdale made a rush and got hold of the boys and lifted them shoulder high and carried them up the street in the direction of the principal hotel.
they made tom get on the table, and tell the whole story, and the pirate proved equal to the occasion.
he spoke continuously for two hours, with frequent pauses for the absorption of soft drinks, and cakes and gingerbread. and dave stood at his right hand, like the trusty sancho panza he was, and corroborated every word, and more.
he told them how he and dave had been driven by parental tyranny from home. of the adventures they had had pirating, and of others that they had not had, such as an encounter with a bunyip, and a midnight fight with wild blackfellows. how he was bitten with a snake, and dave sucked the wound, and tied string round it and saved him, and when, after a preliminary flourish he came to the story of the murder, the men held their breaths and the women became more or less hysterical.
the dramatic instinct was strong in the pirate chief. he neglected none of the local colouring. dave substantiated[196] everything, and threw in suggestions of his own.
wharfdale mentally collected every word—cleaned him out, as a prospector might clean out a placer of diamonds—and when they had heard everything they went away to find somebody to astonish with the story.
dan creyton had gone up to the post-office to tell nora, and send wires up and down the river, and by and-bye buggies and sulkies began to trot into town loaded with people who wanted to see and hear for themselves.
tom had retold his yarn—with improvements, as they occurred—so many times that he was quite hoarse, and dan took him and dave away to his own place.
and when he presented his young guests to nora, that young lady so far forgot conventionalities as to throw her arms round the pirates and hug them, in spite of their blushes and protests.
it was an hour of triumph, but its climax came when dan asked tom pagdin if he would accept the winchester as a gift!
the pirate chief was so overwhelmed with joy that he had to go out of the room, and turn catherine wheels in the yard.
dave said, jealously, that tom ought to have better manners, but when george promised him a single-barrelled shot gun as a memento, he went out and turned catherine wheels also.
nora would not be satisfied until she heard tom tell[197] her it all himself. the pirate was over-stuffed and weary, but he complied.
when he came to the part where petit fought with dan and george on the island, nora turned red and pale, and had to go out of the room for a while, which fact tom duly noticed.
it was late that night when the adventurers retired.
tom sat on the bed unlacing his boots.
“that girl!” he remarked to dave, solemnly, “ought to be the queen of a pirate island. she’s too good an’ too pretty not to be.”
“she give me a pound note,” said dave. “i reckon when we go piratin’ again an’ capture a treasure-ship we ought to stand to her.”
“stand to her!” exclaimed tom. “my word we will! if ever that girl gets carried off by another pirate an’ marooned on a desert island, because she won’t become his wife, let her send for me!”
“an’ me!” said dave.
“for both of us. but i ain’t goin’ to wait for that!”
“how?”
tom slowly drew off his sock. they had both been rigged out with new clothes by an admiring population.
“i’m going to do something now.”
“what?” asked dave. “i don’t see what you can do.”
“don’t you? that’s because you got no sense, dave gibson. did yer see how her eyes opened when i was tellin’ her how sour-krout was going to kill that cove chard?”
“yes, i see.”
[198]
“and did you notice how her face went red an’ pretty, like a peach when it’s ripening?”
“yes.”
“an’ did you see how she had to go out of the room to dry her eyes?”
“yes, i see her go out of the room, but i——”
“of course not. you don’t know nothing about these things. i tell you what it is, dave gibson, that girl’s dead in love with that george chard!”
“did she tell you that?” asked dave.
“no,” replied tom, loftily. “she did not, but i know it. and what’s more, if he don’t marry her she’ll get sick and die of a broken heart.”
“how do you know?”
“how do i know? ain’t i ever read anything? that’s what a girl does when she’s in love. but i’m goin’ to stop it. i’m goin’ to go to him and put it to him straight. if he’s anything of a man he’ll up and marry the girl, an’ if he don’t, well, i’ll challenge him!”
“challenge him, how?” asked dave, pausing, with his boot half off.
“challenge him to fight a duel with winchester rifles. you’ll have to be my second, an’ if i fall on the field of honour you’ve got to avenge me.”
“how am i going to do it, then?”
“if he shoots me you’ll have to challenge him next.”
“but suppose he shoots me?” asked dave, doubtfully.
“you’ll have to get somebody to avenge you! that’s what they call a vendetta.”
“but how can i get anybody if i’m dead? i don’t want to fight any duel, anyway.”
“it doesn’t matter what you want. you leave it to me. i’ll fix somebody to carry on the vendetta if we’re both shot!”
tom considered for a long time, sitting on the bed, half undressed, his chin on his hand.
“i’ll tell you what!” he cried, jumping up, “we’ll issue an ‘ultermaterm.’”
“a what?”
