Nick Carter Detective Library, No. 1 by Nicholas Carter (find a book to read .TXT) 📖

was the first question.

“Sure!” was Nick’s laconic reply.

“Take me aboard, then.”

“What fur?”

“I want to go down the bay a little way.”

“Ye’ve struck the wrong party, boss. I ain’t on that kind of a lay.”

“I’ll make it five.”

“Haw fur d’ye wanter go?”

“About half a mile.”

“What fur?”

“That’s my business. Come, will you take me or won’t you? I can’t stand here arguing all night.”

“Cops after you, boss?”

The man shrugged his shoulders and turned away.

“I’ll take ye ef it ain’t too fur,” called Nick. “Climb in.”

The captain returned. The boat was drawn up close to the dock, and with a quick spring the stranger alighted upon one of the midship seats.

“Now make haste,” he ordered.

“Which way, boss?”

“Down.”

“How fur?”

“Go until I tell you to stop.”

Nick obeyed.

The tide was with them and was running like a millrace, so that they made quick time, and a mile was passed over in silence.

Then Nick stopped rowing.

“Say, boss,” he remarked, “you said half a mile, an’ we’ve already came over a mile. - Is the place much furder?”

“Only a little way. Row on.”

“Well, I want my five dollars afore I go any furder.

“You do, eh? Well, look at this.”

He was pointing a six-shooter directly at Nick’s heart.

“I’m a-lookin’,” said Nick, coolly, “but that ain’t no five dollars.”

“Will you row on?”

“No, not till I gits me pay.”

“Curse you, do as I tell you or I’ll put a hole in you big enough to see through.”

Nick calmly drew the oars into the boat.

“Look ahere,” he said, “wot d’ye take me fur, anyhow, boss? D’ye think that I’m a rabbit that I’m afraid o’ that pop-gun o’ yourn? Not much! Don’t ye s’pose I know ye dassent use it out here at this time o’ night?

“It’s too early for killin’, boss. I’ve done a job ‘r two of that kind myself, an’ I’m posted. Fork over, an’ I’ll row ye where ye wanter go, but I’m blowed ef I will ef ye don’t, see?”

The passenger growled out something which sounded very much like a curse, but he drew a gold piece from his pocket and flung it to Nick.

“Now go ahead,” he muttered, “for I’m losing time.”

“Nobody’s fault but yer own,” was Nick’s reply, and then he seized the oars and the boat shot ahead again.

“Easy, there, easy,” said the passenger, suddenly. “Do you see that sloop yonder?”

“I do.”

“Put me aboard of her.”

“Keyreckt, boss. I’ve had my eye on her before.”

“You have, eh? Why?”

“That’s my bizness, see? To have my eye on such things.”

“Ah! a river pirate, eh?”

“Me? Oh, no! I’m a harbor-broker. Here you are. Ketch hold of the rail. So.”

The passenger climbed aboard of the sloop, while Nick allowed his boat to remain just where it was.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” asked the captain.

“Fur you. Don’t ye want me to take ye back?”

“No. I do not.”

“Nor come after ye?”

“No.”

“What are ye goin’ ter do? Swim ashore?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, goodnight, boss. Be keerful of the pop-gun; it may go off sometime.”

“It will be very apt to if you don’t become scarce around here pretty soon.”

Nick laughed lightly and pushed his boat away from the sloop. Then he picked up his oars and rowed away in the darkness.

“I wonder what he would say if he knew that it was Nick Carter who rowed him down the river to-night?” thought the young detective.

Not very far away from where the sloop was anchored was another craft of less pretentious build, although considerably larger.

It was a schooner, and Nick pointed his boat’s prow directly at it.

The outlines were just visible, for the night was growing steadily darker.

Huge clouds were rolling up from the eastward, and the detective noticed with satisfaction that ere another half-hour the night would be literally black.

He reached the schooner, passed it, and then ceased rowing, allowing his boat to drift slowly back until he was thoroughly concealed behind the black hull.

Then an entire half hour he sat there and waited.

Darker and darker grew the night.

The darkness became so intense that he could not see his hand before his eyes, and great drops of rain began to spatter upon him.

“A perfect night for this sort of work,” he mused, as he pushed his boat free from thes schooner’s side, “and unless I am greatly mistaken, I can make fast to that sloop without being seen or heard. I’m going to try, anyhow.”

The tide was still running very strong, and it was hardly necessary for him to do more than steer in order to reach the desired spot.

Not a thing could be seen. It seemed as though the whole world had suddenly gone out of existence, having naught but blackness behind.

Presently he drew in his oar and went to the bow.

He was not a moment too soon.

Knowing instinctively, rather than seeing, that he was about to collide with the hull of the sloop, he put out his right hand, and was thus enabled to prevent the shock and noise of a collision. Certain discovery would have followed, and his plans would have failed.

Thus far he had made not a sound.

Nick climbed aboard, and crept softly toward the companion-way, pausing every second step to listen, but hearing nothing.

He went over the entire deck, and finally descended to the cabin, - moving with the same stealthy caution.

Nick had almost decided that he had been outwitted, and that the sloop was deserted, when suddenly, without any warning whatever, he received a violent blow on the head and sank senseless to the deck.

“Did you lay him out, John?” asked the cool tone of the man whom we know as captain.

“As stiff as a door, cap.”

“Good. Close the hatch so that no light can get out, and we’ll have a look at him.”

“Better chuck him into the river now,” said John, gruffly. “I hit him hard enough to break a dozen heads.”

“No. Do as I say. Time enough to throw him overboard when we know he’s dead.”

The hatchway was closed and a light procured.

The captain bent over the senseless form of Nick Carter and closely examined his face.

“Boys,” he said, presently, “this fellow is made up. He is a fly cop, as I more than half suspected, and he must die.”

CHAPTER VI.

TONY, THE STRANGLER.

An ominous silence followed the captain’s discovery, which was presently broken by the voice of John, who growled:

“Shall I stick him now?”

“No-no; wait. Haste never does any good. Besides, I want to question him before he takes his bath.”

Some brandy was poured into Nick’s mouth, and he presently opened his eyes, and looked around him.

He saw that five men were in the cabin with him, and realized instantly that he was in the hands of a gang who would not hesitate at murder, and by the expression of their faces he judged that they meant to mete out small mercy for him.

That he was right, the sequel proved.

The captain stood nearest him, and Nick noticed that his face was hard and cruel.

He also noticed another thing with a great amount of satisfaction.

The men were so confident of the strength of superior numbers, and the meekness consequent upon the force of the blow that their victim had received, that they had not thought it worth their while to bind him.

It did not occur to them that one man could get away from five, particularly when they surrounded him in a little cabin like that of the sloop.

“Who are you?” asked the captain, coldly.

“Jest what I was wonderin’,” replied Nick. “I feel sorter dazed with the hit on my head.”

“Answer me!”

The voice was cold and stern, and the demand was emphasized by the exhibition of a glittering knife held menacingly before the detective’s eyes.

“I’m a river broker,” said Nick, coolly.

“Let me remind you that we are not now on the open river, young man, and that this thing makes no noise. You were plucky enough when you knew that I would not shoot, but I promise you that I will cut if you trifle with us now. Answer me; who are you?”

“I’m Flood-tide-Billy. Ever heard of me?”

“That’s too thin, my friend. We all know Billy.”

“Do,eh? Allright. Then what did ye ask me fur?”

“Your name?”

“Well, ye got it, didn’t ye?”

“Not the right one.”

“Mebby you know more about it than I do.”

“Why did you return to this sloop?”

“Why do I go to any sloop, or schooner, or any other craft? say!”

“Come-come! you can’t play that game on us. We’re onto you, my man. River pirates don’t go around with wigs and false mustaches.”

“Don’t eh?”

“You’re a fly cop.”

“Am, eh?”

“And we want to know your lay.”

“Do, eh?”

“Yes, we do, eh I We’re not out here to-night for pleasure.”

“Neither was I.”

“For what, then?”

“Profit.”

Nick had been gaining both time and strength during the short conference, as well as studying the faces and comparative strength of the men around him.

He had made up his mind to make a bold dash for liberty, relying upon his wonderful strength and agility to accomplish it.

He was still flat upon the deck, but to him that fact made little difference, for his muscles were so active that he could leap to his feet from such a position as quickly as from a chair.

The captain quietly took out his watch.

“I will give you one minute in which to decide whether you will make a clean breast of the whole thing, or die,” he said. “Draw your knives, boys, and when I drop this handkerchief, you may make short work of the cop.”

Five knives glittered in as many hands upon the instant.

“Fifteen seconds,” said the captain.

Nick’s eyes roamed from face to face, seeking that which belonged to the man whom he wanted to attack first.

“Thirty seconds.”

Still Nick remained quiet, while the ruffians seemed to grow eager for the instant to arrive when they could fall upon him and hack him to pieces.

“Forty-five seconds.”

Nothing could be heard but the ticking of the watch which the captain held in his hand.

“Fifty seconds.”

Then Nick acted.

Like a flash of lightning he was upon his feet.

His fist shot out like a cannon-ball, and John, who was a little in advance of the others, fell back like a stricken bullock.

With cries resembling the roar of wild beasts, the others then threw themselves forward with uplifted knives and murderous hearts.

But again Nick was too much for them.

His foot flew up and knocked the knife from the foremost man’s hand. His fist followed, and the fellow was hurled backward against his companion, utterly confusing them for an instant.

Nick quickly followed up the advantage thus gained.

He bounded forward and seized in an iron grasp the man whom he had just struck,

Then, raising him from the floor as though he were a babe, the detective hurled him bodily, straight at the now advancing men.

The human missile flew true to its aim, and three of the ruffians went down as though laid low by the sweep of a scythe.

The fourth was the captain.

He leaped toward Nick, doubly infuriated by the fact that he was now thoroughly satisfied that it was none other than Nick Carter, the little giant, who was before him.

But Nick met him half way.

With a lightning-like movement be seized the hand which held the knife.

Then, exerting all of his great