CHAPTER XXVII

AN AGENT OF THE ENEMY

By this time Louis had come to believe that “Flounder” was not the real name of the recruit he had picked up. The fellow had been out to Von Blonk Park, but he doubted if he had been near Mr. Steinberger’s residence. But he had not time to consider the matter then, for his prisoner was very restive, and protested against being conveyed to the Phantom in his present wounded condition.

“What do you wish me to do with you?” demanded Louis as he ceased rowing, for the boat was now at a considerable distance from the point.

“Put me back on the shore from which you had no right to take me,” replied Flounder.

“Do you wish me to leave you, wounded as you are, in the woods there?”

“I can take care of myself better than you can take care of me.”

“As I understand the situation, I engaged you to work for me, engaged your passage on the steamer, and agreed to pay you wages. I shall not desert you now that you are wounded,” added Louis.

“Who wounded me?” asked the recruit.

“I did, when you threatened my life with your revolver. In self-defence I fired at you, and hit you just where I intended, for I did not mean to kill or seriously injure you; and I don’t believe I have done so.”

“Our contract ended when you fired at me, and I insist upon being put ashore,” said Flounder, rising from his seat in the stern sheets, where Louis had placed him. “Either return me to the point, or I will jump over and swim for it, for I can do so with one arm left.”

Louis felt that he had a stronger motive than the comfort of the recruit in retaining him; for the cook had informed him that the Maud was in the bay, and this man would be only another person added to the force of Scoble. Flounder had risen from his seat in the stern sheets, and turned to look at the distance between him and the shore, evidently measuring it with his eye, and estimating his power to accomplish it by swimming with one hand.

The wounded man was about the size of Scoble, and the young millionaire had already convinced himself that he was more than a match for him, at least in his present half-disabled condition. He judged that the fellow really intended to make the attempt to swim to the point, which was not more than a hundred feet distant. Rising in his place at the stroke oar, he seized Flounder by the back of his coat collar, and then sat down again, dragging his opponent after him.

The victim struggled, but taken at a disadvantage he could not make an effectual resistance.

Louis held him fast, and rolled him over to one side, so that he rested on the after thwart upon his left shoulder, his wound being in the right one. He kept him in this position, looking about the boat till he discovered a roll of spun-yarn, which he directed the cook to pass to him.

Still holding his prisoner upon the thwart, he ordered Bickling to make fast the left wrist of the man to his suspender behind, so that he could not use that arm any more than the other. In doing this the principal operator had been obliged to throw open Flounder’s coat and vest. As he did so, he discovered a package of papers and letters in the pocket inside of the vest. He did not scruple to take possession of these, an act which excited the wrath of the victim to an ungovernable extent.

“Do you mean to rob me of my private papers?” demanded Flounder as Louis permitted him to roll off the thwart into the bottom of the boat.

“After a man has threatened my life with a revolver, I intend to ascertain as much about him as possible,” replied Louis quietly. “Perhaps I know what I am about better than you think I do.”

“This is an outrage!” roared the victim.

“I suppose it is; but I also think it was an outrage to fall upon a defenceless man, throw him down, and attempt to bind his hands behind him, as I found you in the act of doing, Mr. Flounder. I am willing to take the responsibility of everything I do.”

“You will have to suffer for this! I will have satisfaction for this, if I have to follow you all over the world!” yelled the recruit, so beside himself with anger that he could hardly utter his words, and looked like a naughty boy crying in his fury.

“Give way, Bickling,” said Louis, poising his oar.

“Are you going to leave me in this situation?” demanded Flounder, whom the pain suddenly reduced to something like subjection.

“Hold on a minute, Bickling,” added Louis, as he left his place at the oar and stepped into the stern sheets.

Taking his victim by the collar of his coat, he raised him to the seat and placed him upon it. Flounder groaned heavily, and no doubt the movement gave him additional pain, which could hardly be avoided.

“Do you mean to kill me?” gasped the recruit.

“I do not; I am not disposed to give you any unnecessary suffering. Whatever pain you have you have brought upon yourself. Now if you will keep quiet, I will not molest you again; and when we get to the steamer, I will see that your wound is dressed and that you are properly cared for. Now, give way, Bickling.”

The two oarsmen pulled till the boat reached the Phantom, which had drifted some little distance into the entrance to the inlet. Flounder had learned wisdom from his suffering, and he made no further attempt at resistance. One of the two deck hands of the steamer had slept on the passage down from the city, and he was now on watch on the forecastle. He hailed Louis to learn what had happened, for he could not help seeing the struggle in the boat.

“Call Captain Brisbane!” shouted Louis.

“What is the matter?” asked the man.

“Call the captain as quick as you can!” replied Louis sharply; and the man hastened to ascend the ladder to the pilot-house, where the commander was putting in his sleeping.

Before the boat could get alongside the steamer, Captain Brisbane came in sight, and rushed down the ladder to the forecastle. Probably the man who had been on watch had told him that something had happened to the expedition in the boat, for he manifested considerable excitement when he appeared on deck.

“What is the trouble, Mr. Belgrave?” demanded the captain.

“This man in the stern is shot in the shoulder, and I want him attended to before I say anything,” replied Louis, who was a Christian at heart as well as in form, and was willing to heal the wound even of an enemy.

“Shot in the shoulder!” exclaimed the captain. “Have you been in a fight?”

The chief of the expedition did not answer the question, for the boat had come up to the gangway by this time, and he gave himself up to the duty of putting the sufferer on board. With the help of the captain and the deck hand, Flounder was easily transferred to the steamer, and conveyed to a stateroom, where he was put into the berth.

Like all masters of vessels, Captain Brisbane had some skill in prescribing for the sick, and in dressing wounds; for none but the largest vessels carry a surgeon. Somewhat to the astonishment of Louis, Flounder submitted to an examination, and behaved himself in a reasonable manner. His coat was removed, and his shirt turned down so that the wound could be seen.

“Not bad at all,” said the captain, after he had looked the man over very carefully. “I have often cured worse wounds than this one on board ship. It is not in the shoulder, as you said, Mr. Belgrave: it is in the arm near the shoulder, but has not touched the bone. The ball went through the fleshy part and came out on the other side.”

“I am glad it is no worse, though it seems to be painful,” added Louis.

The captain proceeded to stanch the flow of blood, and then dressed the wound very skilfully for an amateur. He insisted that the patient should keep very quiet; and the party left the room. Louis insisted that he should be locked in, to which the captain assented, and declared that the man was as secure where he was as he would be in a cell in The Tombs.

“Now what is all this about, Mr. Belgrave?” demanded the captain impatiently.

“If you will direct your man on deck to watch that room, I will tell you all I know, which is hardly more than you have already learned,” replied Louis, as he led the way to the forward part of the boat.

The captain directed the man on duty to watch the door of the stateroom; and the trio seated themselves on the forecastle. Louis said that Bickling must be the first one to tell his story, for he alone knew what had transpired on the shore before the leader landed.

“Which it was Flounder that fell upon me like a thief and a robber, sir, when I ’ad done nothing in the world to vex ’im,” replied the cook, not a little excited when he recalled the scene. “He knocked me down, sir, when I was thinking of nothing. Then ’e wanted me to go on board of the Maud, which”--

“Then the Maud, is really in this bay?” interposed, the captain. “I was sure she was here after all I had heard, if she was anywhere on the coast.”

“Which she is there, and just where she was before when I first went on board, of ’er,” continued Bickling. “Flounder knocked me down just as soon as we ’ad made sure the Maud was there.”

“How far off were you when you saw her?” asked Louis.

“Which I couldn’t say hexactly, but about as far off as that point is from us now. Then Flounder which ’e says to me that we would go on board the Maud, sir, and which I says no, I would not go any nearer to ’er, sir.”

Bickling then went on to say that Flounder had threatened to kill him if he did not go with him, and had tried to tie his hands with his handkerchief. He had cried out with all his might, when the ruffian had stuffed his handkerchief into his mouth. He had struggled to get away from him, for he was afraid of him. Then Mr. Belgrave “’ad come up, which ’e was very glad to see ’im.”

Louis related the rest of the narrative, including all that occurred in the boat. The final reduction of the prisoner to subjection reminded him of the package of papers he had transferred to his own pocket from that of the recruit, and he produced them. The first that attracted his attention was a letter, postmarked at Shark River the morning of the day before. The captain thought this was the nearest post-office to the inlet.

Louis did not hesitate to open the letter, for he felt that he was fighting an enemy in ambush. It was his first care to look at the signature, which was “Wade Farrongate;” and the letter was in the familiar handwriting of John Scoble. Turning to the address of the letter, he read the name of “Ovid Kimpton.” Doubtless this was Flounder’s real name. The letter instructed him to go at once to Von Blonk Park, find Louis Belgrave, and follow him night and day wherever he went.

The missive also contained some explanation of what he was about and where he was, including the statement of his intention to sail for Bermuda as soon as he could do so without the danger of being pursued. The movements of Flounder were thus explained. Probably he had gone to the Park, and, learning that Louis had gone away by train the day before, and that his return was expected, he had waited for him at the station, where he had met Bickling, who had told him all he wanted to know.

“What shall we do, Captain Brisbane?” he asked when he had finished.

“Nothing; Captain Ringgold told me to do nothing if we found the Maud.” Louis was within a mile of his mother, and could do nothing.