CHAPTER XVIII.

RESCUING A PRISONER.

On the passage I told Grace and Ned Skotchley what had transpired during the time I had been on shore; and both of them agreed with me that it was disgraceful to allow boys to fight. Grace even had the courage to say that her father ought to have compelled the Toppletonians to leave the island, rather than encourage such outrageous conduct.

“What are you going to do now?” asked Skotchley.

“I’m going to recapture Tommy.”

“I thought you were a non-combatant,” laughed he.

“So I am; but I’m not going to leave Tommy in the hands of those fellows. I’m afraid the Wimps will abuse him when they have time to attend to his case.”

“Don’t let them hurt him,” pleaded Grace.

“I will not. Tommy is as brave as a lion; if he had been as prudent as Waddie, he would not have been captured,” I replied.

By this time we were within hail of the boat in which the prisoner of war was held. His guards did not know the Grace, as she was a new craft on the lake, and did not expect any mischief from her. They sat on each side of the vanquished little major, whose hands were tied together so that he could do no harm. I ran the yacht up into the wind so that her bowsprit was over the boat.

“What are you about? You will run into us!” shouted one of the sentinels.

“We won’t hurt you,” replied Tom Walton, as he hooked on to the boat.

I ran forward, and Tom and I dropped into the boat, while Joe Poole held the painter, which I threw up to him to avoid accidents.

“Wolf Penniman!” exclaimed Baxter, one of the guards, when he recognized me. “What do you want?”

“I want Major Tommy,” I replied, cutting that young gentleman’s fetters, while Tom Walton stood between me and the astonished sentinels.

“You can’t have him! He is a prisoner,” retorted Baxter, picking up his musket.

“He was a prisoner, but he isn’t now,” I added. “You are free, Tommy. Jump aboard as quick as you can.”

But Raymond, the sentinel in the bow of the boat, presented his bayonet, while Tom Walton, with an oar in his hand, was checking a forward movement on the part of Baxter. It is not easy to walk over a bayonet in the hands of a stout fellow who has been trained to use it skilfully, and the prospect before me was not very encouraging. However, Joe Poole turned the fortunes of the day in our favor, by fastening to the back of Raymond’s collar with the boat-hook, and pulling him over backwards into the bottom of the boat. I seized his musket, and wrenched it from his grasp, so that the obstacle to Major Tommy’s escape was removed.

The little magnate was not slow to avail himself of his opportunity, and springing over the prostrate form of Raymond, still pinned down by the boat-hook, he leaped on board of the yacht. The combat, so far as I was concerned, was happily ended, and Tom Walton and I made good our retreat, which was effectually covered by Joe Poole, who flourished his boat-hook with a vigor that set at nought the paltry bayonets of the war-worn veterans from whose gripe we had rescued the unfortunate commander of the Toppleton forces.

“Don’t let them go!” shouted Tommy, as he beheld the result of the brief struggle. “Capture them!”

“Let go the painter!” I whispered to Joe Poole.

“Capture them!” repeated Tommy, furiously, as he saw the boat recede from the yacht.

“Hard a-port the helm!” I called to Skotchley, who was in the standing-room.

“What are you about?” demanded Tommy, as I went aft to take the helm.

“Don’t meddle with them, Mr. Wolf--don’t, please!” interposed Grace.

“Shut up, Grace! If you say a word, I’ll throw you overboard,” said the ungallant major, who was unhappily one of those boys who believe they may say anything to a sister.

“I came out here after you, Tommy,” I replied, indignant at the harsh words the little major had addressed to Grace. “I don’t think it is worth while to meddle with those fellows.”

“What do you suppose I care what you think!” cried Tommy. “Isn’t this my father’s yacht?”

“It is your father’s yacht.”

“Then you will capture those fellows, or I will know the reason why,” he added, stoutly.

“Don’t touch them, Mr. Wolf--don’t, please,” said Grace.

“Mr. Wolf!” sneered Tommy. “Mr. Wolf will do what I tell him.”

“I don’t think it is quite proper to get into a row with a young lady on board!” I added, mildly.

“Wolf Penniman, you are a coward and a traitor!” exclaimed Tommy. “And you are another!” he added, fixing his indignant gaze upon Skotchley.

“Thank you, Tommy,” replied the dignified student, coolly.

“You shall be court-martialed as a deserter and a coward!”

“Well, I think I can stand it.”

Major Tommy glanced at the boat from which he had been removed, and in which his two guards had taken the oars and were pulling for the shore. He seemed to think that they would add two more to the force of the Wimpletonians, and that it was a grave military indiscretion to permit the enemy thus to be augmented. Besides, he must have his own way, and any opposition was quite enough to rouse the evil spirit in his nature. He insisted again that the two guards should be captured. I tried to excuse myself from meddling in the warfare, and Grace stood by me with a zeal which brought down the wrath of her brother upon her.

“I say that boat shall be taken,” persisted he, violently.

“It is impossible,” I replied, weary of his tyranny. “She is dead to windward of us.”

“Please don’t, Mr. Wolf,” added Grace.

“Hold your tongue, Grace!” snapped he, as he sprang to the tiller, and shoved me one side.

“Don’t, Tommy,” added Grace, placing her hand upon his shoulder to deter him.

The little monster actually turned upon her, and struck her a blow in the face which sent her reeling over into her seat. I could not stand that; my blood boiled up, and boiled over. I sprang upon him, and in a small fraction of an instant, Major Tommy Toppleton was lying flat on the floor of the standing-room.

“O, don’t touch him, Mr. Wolf!” begged Grace.

“You villain you, how dare you put your hand upon me?” gasped Tommy, springing to his feet, as savage as a young tiger.

“I don’t like to see any one strike a young lady, least of all when she is his sister.”

“I’ll let you know!” whined he, crying with passion, as he leaped upon me.

Walton and Skotchley each grasped one of his arms, and held him so that he was powerless. He raved, tore, and swore; and it was evident enough to me, when my indignation subsided, that I had sacrificed myself, if not my father and the whole family.

“I won’t say anything more, Tommy,” interposed Grace, terrified by the violence around her. “You may have your own way.”

“Give me that helm, Wolf!” cried Tommy.

“I will give it to you,” I replied, moving aside, influenced by the action of Grace; and I don’t know but Tommy would have beaten his head to jelly against the trunk if some concession had not been made to his wrath.

He cooled off as rapidly as he had become heated, when all opposition was removed. He threw the yacht up into the wind, and Tom Walton and I trimmed the sails; but the new helmsman could not manage her, and she lay with her sails flapping idly in the wind.

“Ease her off a little, Tommy, and she will go it,” I ventured to suggest.

“Mind your own business, Wolf Penniman. Your time is out from this moment, and Grace shall never put her foot into this yacht again, if it is named after her,” blustered Tommy.

I subsided, and seated myself on the trunk amidships to wait the issue. The new skipper, however, adopted my suggestion, though he snubbed me for making it. The Grace, accommodating as she was, would not sail into the wind’s eye, and before Tommy was ready to tack, in beating up to the chase, the boat landed her hands on the beach. I saw that he was vexed; but he “chewed up” his wrath. He soon came about, and headed for the channel between the Horse Shoe and the Shooter. I concluded that he must be anxious to join his battalion; but it would be impossible to beat the yacht up the narrow passage. It was no use for me to say anything, and I did not, for he would be sure to go in direct opposition to any suggestion of mine.

He ran the Grace up to the north point of the Shooter, and came about. I thought it my duty to tell him that the water was very shoal ahead of him, as he approached the Horse Shoe on this tack. He politely insinuated that I was to hold my tongue, which I succeeded in doing for a moment longer, until the yacht grated on the gravel bottom, and stuck fast.

“That’s just where I wanted her,” said Tommy, unmoved by the event. “Joe Poole!”

Joe Poole appeared before the imperious little magnate, and was directed to bring up the boat and land our uncomfortable passenger. Tommy jumped into the boat, and as he took his seat in the stern-sheets, he delivered his parting volley at me, to the effect that, like Othello, my occupation was gone, and that I should be driven out of Middleport as a coward and a traitor. To this mild speech I permitted myself to make no reply.

“Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!” shouted the Toppleton battalion on the shore.

This shout of triumph attracted the attention of the major, and he hurried up Joe Poole, who soon landed him on the beach. On the whole, I concluded that I had not made much by meddling with the conflict, even so far as to rescue Tommy from his captors. During the events which I have related, I had closely watched the movements of the contending forces. Company B of the Toppleton battalion had been sent round the island to flank the enemy, and obtain a position where stones were available as ammunition. This operation had been successful, and the Wimpletonians had been forced back from their stronghold, for they could not stand up against volleys of stones any better than their rivals. Company A had dashed down the hill at the right time, and the enemy were driven upon their baggage. This success had drawn forth the shout of triumph.

Fortunately for us on board of the Grace, Tommy had sailed her shaking in the wind, so that she had gone on the shoal very gently, though hard enough to give us two hours of severe exertion. As we worked, moving ballast from the forward to the after part of the yacht, we watched the movements of the contending forces. As I anticipated, Tommy ordered another charge as soon as he reached the battalion, though the Wimpletonians were actually engaged in loading their baggage into the boats. We saw a flag of truce hoisted by the defeated party, and a parley took place, the result of which was, that they were permitted to retire without further molestation. Long and loud were the cheers of Toppleton when the fleet moved away from the island, and pulled towards the Shooter. The victors then returned to their camp.

We got the Grace off at last, and, after passing around the Horse Shoe, I anchored off the pier in the channel. Major Toppleton soon appeared, accompanied by Tommy, and I expected to be discharged at once.