CHAPTER V
A BAD PREDICAMENT
The first question asked by the mate of the Golden Moose referred to Will Bertram, as the watching lad had expected.
“Is your son at home, Mrs. Bertram?” were his words.
“He was a moment since,” replied Will’s mother, a slight shade of anxiety in her face as she glanced around the room. “He seems to have gone.”
“Where to?”
“I do not know. Maybe to visit some neighbor’s boy. Was it anything particular, sir?”
“Well, yes. You see he got our cabin boy at the ship, Tom Dalton, to run away today, and we’re ready to sail.”
“Oh, I am certain he does not know where he is,” Mrs. Bertram hastened to say.
“Trust a keen-witted boy like him for that,” incredulously remarked the mate.
“At least he has been busy or at home since he was at the ship this afternoon.”
“Well, I guess if we find Will Bertram we’ll place Tom Dalton,” said the mate, confidently. “Come, Jack, we won’t break our necks looking for the lads, but, of course, we must follow orders.”
The watching boys did not move until the two sailors were well out of sight. Tom was crying bitterly.
“Be a man, Tom,” urged Will, encouragingly. “What are you crying about?”
“Because they hunt me down so, and will be sure to catch me. Everybody’s against me.”
“Well, I ain’t, Tom. Now, instead of mourning uselessly, put your wits together and decide what you’re going to do.”
“I don’t know,” responded Tom, hopelessly.
“Is there not some acquaintance you could stay with tonight?”
“I ain’t got any friends.”
Will pondered deeply for a moment or two. Finally, he said:
“Look here, Tom; I think I know a place where you could go.”
“Where?”
“You know the old mill down the river?”
“Yes. I’ve been there lots of times.”
“Well, I suggest that you hide there for tonight.”
“They’ll never think of searching for me there. I’ll go, Will, if we can get there without being seen.”
“Come along, then.”
Will took the most retired route he could think of to reach the mill. As he went along he talked seriously to Tom about his future and advised him to find his way to an uncle who lived some distance down the coast, and from whose charge Tom, who was an orphan, had run away to gain a seafaring experience at bitter cost.
“Won’t I see you tomorrow?” inquired Tom, lugubriously, somewhat depressed at being left to his own resources.
“I expect not.”
“Are you going away?”
“I may, Tom,” and Will told of Mr. Hunter’s offer.
Tom’s face grew animated and his eyes flashed eagerly as Will enthusiastically referred to the plans of the expedition.
“Oh, if I could only go with you!” he ejaculated.
“I don’t know that I am going myself, Tom.”
“Oh, Will!”
They were crossing a vacant lot when Tom brought Will to an abrupt halt with a startled exclamation, at the same time clutching his arm alarmedly.
“What’s the matter, Tom?” inquired Will.
“Look yonder. There is the Captain and two of his men.”
Will grew a little excited as he glanced in the direction his affrighted companion had indicated.
“It’s them, sure enough, Tom. Now don’t get frightened, but walk fast.”
He hoped to evade the scrutiny of the trio, who were some distance away, by getting out of their range of vision.
A shout behind him, however, told him that their identity was suspected, and he saw the three men break into a run.
Will followed their example, urging his companion to do the same, and directing the way to the old ruined mill, the outline of which was visible a short distance ahead of them.
They gained on their pursuers, and, reaching the mill itself, observed with satisfaction that their pursuers were almost invisible in the darkness.
“Maybe they won’t trace us here, Tom,” said Will; “now you keep close to me, and when we’ve found a snug spot we’ll keep quiet and await developments.”
The dilapidated old structure, gone to wreck and ruin many a year agone, was a familiar place to the boys of Watertown. Will clasped Tom’s hand and led the way through the doorless entrance to its lower floor.
As he did so Tom uttered a frightened cry.
“Someone’s here,” he whispered.
Someone certainly was there, for at that moment a flashing light in one corner of the place showed dimly its entire interior.
Will soon made out the cause of the unexpected illumination. On a heap of straw sat a trampish-looking individual. He had just lighted a match preparatory to taking a smoke from his pipe and did not apparently notice the intruders.
“It’s some old tramp,” whispered Will. “Come, Tom: yonder’s a ladder leading to the next story. Go slow on it, for it’s old and rickety. Here we are.”
He crept up a creaking ladder and Tom followed him. Will took the precaution to pull the ladder up after them and closed the broken trap door over their means of entrance.
“Now we’ll sit down and wait,” he said, and both boys slid to the floor.
It was so still that they could hear every near sound. Will felt Tom tremble as from the outside echoed faintly the gruff, harsh voice of Captain Morris.
A minute later there was a quick cry and a sudden commotion below as if the sailors had discovered the old tramp, and then, as a light showed distinctly through the cracks of the floor, Tom quavered, gaspingly:
“They’ve traced us here, and have got a light and are looking for us!”
Will Bertram placed his eye to an interstice in the floor to ascertain what was going on below.
He arose suddenly to his feet with a startled cry.
“Quick, Tom, open the trap door and get the ladder down!”
“What for?”
“It is no light below, but a fire!”
“A fire?” echoed Tom, wildly.
“Yes; quick, I say; the trap! the ladder!”
Will himself was compelled to lift the trap door, for Tom was paralyzed with terror and utter helplessness in their dilemma.
He staggered back as he drew the trap open. A dense volume of smoke issued from below, while the crackling of burning wood and a ruddy glare told that the careless tramp had precipitated a catastrophe.
“Oh, Will! what shall we do?”
“Keep cool and get out of this,” replied Will, bravely. “Stay where you are for a minute.”
He flung the trap shut and groped his way to the window.
It was now an open aperture, but, as he well knew, looked down upon a deep pit by the side of the structure.
“There used to be some ladder steps nailed to the side of the building,” he said, as he leaned out of the window.
He peered searchingly forth, and with his hand felt for the means of escape he had described.
A murmur of concern swept his lips as he made a thrilling discovery.
The ladder steps were gone!
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