The Lady and the Pirate by Emerson Hough (ebook reader library TXT) 📖

was going to arrest us, Mr. Harry,” explained Peterson, much out of breath. “What’s it all about? What papers does he mean?”

“The morning papers, very likely, Peterson,” said I. “The baseball scores.”

“Will you halt, now?” called the officer.

“No,” I answered, through the megaphone. “You have no authority to halt us. What’s your paper, and who is it for?”

“Wire from Calvin Davidson, Natchez, charging John Doe with running off with his boat.”

“This is not his boat,” I answered, “but my own, and I am not John Doe. We are on our way to the coast, and not under any jurisdiction of yours.”

He stood up and drew a paper from his pocket, and began to read. In reply I pulled the whistle cord and drowned his voice; while at the same time I gave the engineer orders for full speed. Shaking his fist, he fell astern.

None the less, I was a bit thoughtful. After all, the Mississippi River, wide as it was, ran within certain well defined banks from which was no escaping. We were three hundred miles or more from the high seas, and passing between points of continuous telegraphic communication; so that a hue and cry down the river might indeed mean trouble for us. Moreover, even as I turned to pick up the course—for I had myself taken the wheel—I saw the figure of Aunt Lucinda on the after deck. She was on the point of heaving overboard a bottle—I heard it splash, saw it bob astern. “Now, the devil will be to pay,” thought I. But, on second thought, I slowed down, so that distinctly I saw the officer, also slowing down, stoop over and take the bottle aboard his launch.

“Ahoy, the launch!” I hailed. He put a hand at his ear as I megaphoned him. “Take this message for Mr. Calvin Davidson,” I hailed. He nodded that he heard. “—That to-night John Doe will wear his waistcoat, the one with the pink stripes. Do you get me?”

Apparently he did not get me, for he sat down suddenly and mopped his face. We left him so. And for aught I could know, he took back ashore material for a newspaper story, which bade fair to be better for the newspapers than for us on board the Belle Helène; for, up and down the river, the wires might carry the news that a crazy man had been guilty of piracy, highway robbery, abduction, I know not how many other crimes; and to arrest him on his mad career they might enlist all the authorities, municipal, county, state and even national. “John Doe,” said I to myself, “if I really were you, methinks I should make haste.” None the less I smiled; for, if I were John Doe only, then Calvin Davidson had no idea who had stolen his chartered yacht, and who was about to disport in his most cherished waistcoat! The situation pleased me very much. “L’Olonnois,” said I, “come hither, my hearty.”

“Aye, aye, Sir,” replied that worthy. “What is it, Black Bart?”

“Nothing, except I was just going to say that I enjoy it very much, this being a pirate.”

“So do I,” said he. “An’ let any pursue us at their peril!”

CHAPTER XVIII IN WHICH IS DISCUSSION OF TWO AUNTIES

L’OLONNOIS was still all for training the stern-chaser Long Tom (the Belle Helène’s brass yacht cannon) on the enemy, and came to me presently breathing defiance. “’F I only had any chain shot in the locker,” said he, “beshrew me, but I would pay him well for this! He’s got my Auntie Helen’s auntie scared silly.”

“And how about your Auntie Helena herself?” I asked of him. Thus far, he had been guilty of no nepotism whatever, and had treated his auntie as any other captive maiden, perchance fallen into his ruthless hands.

“Well, she ain’t so scared as she is mad, near’s I can see,” was his reply. “She sat there when I first drove ’em down-stairs, lookin’ at me, an’ she says, ‘Jimmy,’ says she, ‘what’s all this foolishness?’ An’ she reaches out her hand, an’ she offers me candy—she makes awful nice fudges, too. She knew that wasn’t fair! But I says to her. ‘Woman, cease all blandishments, for now you are in our power!’ An’ I liked that, fer I been in her power long enough. Then she set down, an’ near’s I can tell, she got to thinking things over. I know her—she’ll try to get away.”

“She has tried to do so, my good leftenant, is trying now. She and her Auntie Lucinda have thrown over I know not how many bottles carrying messages. It were only by mere chance yon varlet could escape coming over some of them. Add this to the fact that yon varlet has got the king’s navy after us, and marry! methinks we have full work cut out for us. Not that stout heart should falter, good leftenant, eh?”

“We follow Black Bart the Avenger,” said L’Olonnois, folding his arms and frowning heavily. “But say,” he added, “what seems funny to me is, you and my Auntie Helen must of known each other before now.”

“Not at all, not at all—that is, but casually, and long years since. It had long since escaped my mind.” I felt myself flushing sadly.

“I’ll tell her that—I knew she was mistaken. I was sure she was.”

“No! No! Jimmy, you’ll tell her nothing of the kind. I only meant——”

“Well, she remembers you, I’m almost sure, an’ so does Aunt Lucinda. Aunt Lucinda, why I’ve heard her back home tell Auntie Helena about as good fish in the sea, an’ she mustn’t bother over a man that’s poor. Was it you, Black Bart? And are you poor?”

“As I stand before you now, Jimmy L’Olonnois, I’m the poorest beggar in the world,” said I. “I have risked my all on one hazard. If I win, I shall be rich beyond compare. If I fail, I shall be poor indeed.”

“She knows that. She knows you’re poor, all right. I heard Aunt Lucinda tell her often. She said you was rich once, an’ lost it all, speculatin’ in a mine or something; an’ what was the use marryin’ a man who hadn’t anything? I don’t know, but I think that was why Aunt Lucinda worked up this trip with Mr. Davidson. He’s got money to burn—look at this yacht, an’ everything—an’ I know him and Auntie Lucinda, anyhow, have got it doped out that him an’ Auntie Helen’s goin’ to get married—even if they ain’t now, so far’s I know. Anyhow, our takin’ the ship has broke up something. But say, now, Black Bart——”

“Well, my good leftenant——”

“I got a idea!”

“Indeed?”

“Yep. Looka here, now—why don’t you just do like the pirate book says?”

“How is that?”

“Marry the captive maid your own self?”

I felt my color rise yet more.

“Why, now, that happened right along in them days—pirate chief, he takes a beautiful maiden captive, an’ after makin’ all his prisoners walk the plank but just her, he offers his hand an’ fortune. An’ lots of times, somehow, the beautiful maiden she married the ruthless pirate chief, an’ they lived happy ever after. Why don’t you?”

“I hadn’t thought of that, Jimmy,” I said, most mendaciously; “but the idea has some merit. In fact, we’ve already started in by taking the beautiful maiden captive, and, mayhap, yon varlet yet shall walk the plank, or swear a solemn oath never to wear such waistcoats as these again. But one thing lacks.”

“What?”

“The maiden’s consent!”

“No, it don’t! They never ast ’em—they just married ’em, that was all. An’ every time, they lived happy ever after. An’ they founded families that——”

“Jimmy!” I raised a hand. “That will do.”

“Well, anyhow, I wouldn’t pay any attention to Aunt Lucinda about it. She’s strong for yon varlet, for he’s got the dough.”

“And isn’t your Auntie Helena also—but no, on second thought, I will not ask you that——”

“Why no, sure not—it’s better to demand it of her own fair lips, an’ not take no for a answer. They always live happy ever after.”

—“Of course, Jimmy.”

—“And so would you.”

“I know it! I know it!”

“Well, then, why just don’t you?”

“Good leftenant, Black Bart will take your counsel into full advisement. Later, we shall see. Meantime, we must have a care for our good ship’s safety, for none may tell what plans yon varlet may be laying to circumvent us.”

So saying, I sought out Peterson and asked him for his maps and charts.

There was, as I found by consulting these, a deep bayou, an old river bed, that ran inland some thirty miles, apparently tapping a rich plantation country which was not served by the regular river boats.

“Do you know anything about this old channel, Peterson?” I inquired.

“Nothing at all except from hearsay and what you see here,” he replied. “I don’t know whether or not it has a bar at either end, but likely enough it has at both, though we might crowd through.”

“And how about the gasoline supply?”

“Enough to get us in, at least. And, I say, here’s a sort of plantation post-office marked. There’s just a bare chance we could get a drum or so in there. I don’t think we can, though.”

“What’s she drawing now as she runs, Peterson?”

“Four feet two inches. She’s a shade low by the stern. We’ve quite a lot of supplies aboard, this early in the cruise. But I don’t suppose we’ve got enough.”

“Well, Peterson,” said I, “water leaves no trail. If there’s no one watching when we open up this next bend, run for the bayou, and we’ll see if we can get under cover. Of course, it’s all a mistake about Mr. Davidson’s wiring on to have us stopped—though we can’t blame him, since he hasn’t any idea who it is that has run away with the boat. But now, it suits me better to double in here, and let the chase try to find us on the main river; if there is any chase. You see, I don’t want to disturb the ladies unduly, and they might not understand it all if we were overhauled and asked to explain our change in the ownership.”

“Quite right, sir, and very good. I catch the idea. But, sir——”

He hesitated.

“Yes?”

“Well, sir, if I might be so bold, what are your plans about the two ladies?”

“I have none which will effect your navigation of the boat, Peterson.”

The old man flushed a shade. “Excuse me, Mr. Harry. I know you’ll do nothing out of the way. But the old hen—I beg pardon——”

“You mean the revered aunt, Peterson.”

“Yes, sir, the revered aunt. Well, sir, the revered aunt, dash her!—--”

“Yes, dash her starry toplights, Peterson; and even if need be, shiver her timbers! Go on——”

“Why, she’s been tryin’ to pull off a weddin’ on this boat ever since we left Mackinaw.”

“Why not? You mean that Mr. Davidson and the revered aunt were getting on well?”

“Oh, no, bless your heart, no! It was the young lady, Miss Emory. And she——”

I raised my hand. “Never mind, Peterson. We can’t discuss that at all. But now, I’m minded to give my friend Mr. Davidson a little game of follow-my-leader. And just to show how we’ll do that, we’ll begin with a preliminary go at hide-and-seek. Take the chance, Peterson, and run into the bayou. I’ll put off the small boat for soundings. If we can get gas, and can get in, and can get out unnoticed, maybe we can run by New Orleans in the night, and none the wiser.”

“And where then, Mr. Harry?”

“Peterson, the high seas have no bridges, and if they had, I should not cross them yet. Perhaps if I did, I then should burn them behind me.”

“She’s a mortal fine young woman, Mr. Harry, a mortal fine