All for Adventure E-Book

Fenton Ash

• Herausgeber: Ktoczyta.pl
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Fenton Ash is the first and main pseudonym of UK civil engineer and author Francis Henry Atkins (1847-1927) who was a writer of „pulp fiction”, in particular science fiction aimed at younger readers. He wrote under the pseudonyms Frank Aubrey and Fenton Ash. „All for Adventure” fantasy adventure would suit anyone interested in old fantasy novels for children and young people.

Leseprobe

Contents

1. A LITTLE EXCITEMENT

2. A FIGHT IN THE WATER

3. "S.O.S." — A WIRELESS CALL FOR HELP

4. THE RESCUE

5. THE MYSTERY OF THE WRECK

6. THE CONFESSION

7. SAVING THE TREASURE

8. CHASED BY A GERMAN CRUISER

9. THE SPIES AND THEIR PLOT

10. A CRITICAL TIME

11. THE BOY SCOUT'S STORY

12. TOM'S DISCOVERY — THE SECRET PASSAGE

13. CAPTURED BY GERMAN SPIES

14. THE ESCAPE OF HARRY AND RAY FROM THEIR GERMAN CAPTORS

15. WHAT HAPPENED AT THE LIGHTHOUSE

16. SAVING THE FLEET AND THE TROOPS

17. ON ACTIVE SERVICE

18. THE STRANGE FISHERMAN

19. HUNTING A SUBMARINE

20. IN THE SEALS' CAVE

21. ADVENTURES IN THE SARGASSO SEA

22. "FOUL PLAY."

23. LOST IN THE AIR

24. THE RESCUE

25. LEFT TO DIE IN THE SARGASSO WEED

26. THE TREASURE-SEEKERS

27. TURNING THE TABLES

28. A BLOOD FEUD

29. RAY AS MEDICINE MAN

30. AN INDIAN POW-WOW

31. DANCE OF MAGICIANS

32. CONCLUSION

1. A LITTLE EXCITEMENT

“BY Jove! This is grand! A letter from Ray Sinclair, asking me to join him in a trip to South America. Just the kind of thing I’ve been wishing and longing for ever since I was a kid. Splendid! Here’s my chance at last!”

The speaker was young Lord Temperley, and the scene was the morning-room at Temperley Hall. He was seated at breakfast with Mr. Duncan, who acted in the double capacity of guardian and manager of the young man’s estates.

For Lord Harry Temperley was not yet quite twenty-one; though no one would have thought so to judge by appearances alone.

Well built, muscular, almost a giant in stature, known at school and at his university as a splendid all-round athlete, he looked fully two or three years older than be really was.

In other respects he was equally well favoured by nature, being gifted not only with good looks, but with a sunny, good- humoured, genial disposition. Certainly he had very high spirits, which had caused his guardian at times to regard him as rather “a handful,” but that only arose from an excess of energy. There was no vice in breezy, light-hearted, good-tempered Harry Temperley.

That something had happened now to rouse all his enthusiasm was evident as he sat there looking at the letter he held in his hand, his face aglow, his eyes dancing with excitement.

Mr. Duncan regarded him soberly. He was the exact opposite of his ward, being elderly, precise, and staid. But the look in his eyes was less stern than his bearing.

“What are you so excited about, Harry?” he asked quietly. “Surely you are not thinking of starting off to South America at a moment’s notice just because someone you know is going?”

“As to that, Mr. Duncan, Ray Sinclair’s uncle and my father were very great friends, as you know, and they once travelled together in the very part of the world Ray is now going to. And he says his uncle wished him to get me to go with him–and you know that my dear old dad always wanted to take me abroad with him, only at first I was too young, and afterwards he became an invalid.”

The late Lord Temperley, Harry’s father, had been dead nearly two years; while Ray Sinclair’s uncle, Sir Ralph Sinclair, had died a few months before.

Thus Ray and Harry, who had been school-fellows together, had both been left alone in the world while still quite young men. For Sir Raymond Sinclair–to give him his full name and title–was only a year or so older than his chum.

“I hope you are not going to raise all sorts of disagreeable objections, Mr. Duncan?” said Harry, looking at his guardian with the quizzical, open-eyed, innocent air that the old gentleman often found so hard to resist.

“Hum! Hum! What’s he going out there for?” Mr. Duncan asked, judicially. “Better read out to me what he says.”

A slight shadow fell upon the face of the young enthusiast, and his brow became puckered with a puzzled frown, the reason being that his friend Ray was either a very bad writer or had written in a very great hurry, and with unusual carelessness. Anyway, his letter was not an easy one to decipher.

“All right, sir,” said Harry. “I will read you what he says–that is,” he added, hopefully, “as fast as I can make it out. For Ray has sent me the most awful scrawl that I–. However, here goes:

“‘Dear Jumper,’ he says–that’s me, you know, Mr. Duncan. They always called me Jumper at school, because–”

“Because you were always like a cat on hot bricks, I expect,” murmured Mr. Duncan. “But go on.”

“‘Dear Jumper,’” Harry repeated slowly. “Faith, it’s not so easy to ‘go on.’ However, here goes once more–I’ll begin again, so that you don’t lose the thread. ‘Dear Jumper,–At last I’m glued to–’ Gracious! that’s wrong, surely! Oh! he means ‘glad.’ ‘I’m glad to say, I’ve got myself kettled.’ I say, that can’t be right! He can’t have got himself kettled, you know!”

“Settled, perhaps,” Mr. Duncan suggested.

“Why, yes–of course, it’s ‘settled.’ He means he’s got all his affairs settled up after his uncle’s death.”

“He was a very clever scientist–his uncle–wasn’t he–as well as a great traveller?”

“Yes–a naturalist; and besides that, an inventor. He invented–or discovered–several very clever things.”

“And the nephew, young Sir Raymond, takes after him in that respect, doesn’t he?”

“Well, yes–or tries to. He’s always trying to invent something new. However, to go on with this letter; he says his uncle left him a–‘a sacred trust’–a mission. He is to go out to deliver something very important to the chief of an Indian tribe.”

“Where?”

“In–er–British Guiana. Then he says when he has fulfilled his uncle’s wishes, he will be free; and ready to travel with me anywhere–from Tottenham to Timbuctoo, or from the earth to Mars by special airship–if I like.”

“Tut, tut! British Guiana, indeed!” said Mr. Duncan. “The idea of two young fellows like you going out there alone!”

Harry stared, evidently disappointed at this cold douche. “But–Mr. Duncan,” he urged, “you know that my father wished me to go, and would have taken me himself if he had been well enough. I shall only be carrying out his wishes. And Ray says his uncle–Sir Ralph–particularly wished him to get me to go with him, because the Indians he is going to see knew my father. So, you see, sir, I can’t very well refuse.”

“H’m! Well, young man, it rests with yourself. In six months’ time you will be twenty-one, and your own master, and you would go then, I expect, if I said ‘no’ now. So what can I say? Only this, my lad, that if you decide to go, I wish you good fortune and a safe return. And you can have an easy mind while you’re away. I’ll continue to manage everything at home for you, as I have done since your father’s death.”

Harry seized the old gentleman’s hand, and thanked him warmly.

“Now I must go and rout out Barney,” said he. “I must tell him he’s got to come with me.”

“Ah! Yes–that’s a good idea,” Mr. Duncan agreed. “Of course! He went over that ground, I remember, with your father. He’ll help to take care of you.”

Harry came upon Barney digging, bareheaded, in the garden of the little cottage which the late Lord Temperley had given him to live in.

He was a veteran hunter, and had, in his time, travelled almost all over the world. In particular, he had been the trusted servant and companion of Harry’s father in his travels. He looked up as he saw his young master, and smiled a glad welcome.

“The top o’ the mornin’ to ye, me lord,” said he.

“You rascal!” exclaimed the young man. “Call me ‘me lord’ again and I’ll heave half a brick at you! How many more times am I to tell you of that?”

“Faith! Oi forgot. Misther Harry”

“That’s better, me bhoy,” Harry returned, blithely imitating the other’s brogue. “It’s Misther Harry ye always used to call me, an’ it’s Misther Harry ye’ll go on sayin’–or I won’t take ye with me where I’m goin’.”

“An’ where moight that be, me–Oi mane Misther Harry?”

Harry looked at him whimsically.

“D’ye know a place called British Guiana, Barney?” he asked.

Barney stared; then understanding came, and his face lighted up.

“Arrah, it’s jokin’ ye are, sorr” he said doubtfully. “Ye’re niver thinkin’ that–”

“But I am, Barney. And I’m more than thinking–I’ve made up my mind. And you’re coming with me. So you can set to work packing. Clean up all our rifles and revolvers, and get out a list of the things we shall have to buy.”

Barney shouted for joy, and would doubtless have thrown his cap in the air if he had been wearing one. As it was he pushed his spade into the ground with tremendous energy, dug up an immense clod, and flung it skywards with great gusto. It came back in a shower of small particles.

Then a thought struck him.

“Anybody else goin’, sorr?” he queried.

“Only my chum, Ray–you know, Sir Raymond Sinclair.”

Barney’s face fell. He looked troubled. “Only him!” he muttered.

“Why–you knew him well enough–”

“Oh, ay, sorr, Oi knows him well enough, as ye says. Don’t Oi remimber him–the bothersome young spalpeen, as he used t’ be! Will Oi iver forgit him? He’s the wan they said had a gennious for invintin’–”

“That’s right, Barney–”

“Wasn’t he allus invintin’ some fresh trouble an’ botheration t’ get me into ivery day whin he spent his holidays here?”

“I’m afraid that’s true,” laughed Harry. “But he’s older, and less bothersome now, ye’ll find. Though it’s also true that he still prides himself on being a bit of an inventor. But you’ll get on with him all right. He always liked you.”

“Oh, ay, Oi’ll get on wid him! I allus loiked him, too, in spite ‘av his thricks. But I hope he won’t thry his invintions on us. Didn’t his uncle invint some newfangled explosive, as they said would blow a man farther off the airth than anny man had been blowed yit?”

“I believe he did, Barney, A most clever invention.”

“Well, Oi don’t know. Good old gunpowder’s strong enough, an’ cliver enough fur me. If a man were t’ go on loike that, he moight blow the whole airth up into–into–well–it’s little stars ‘twould be, I expect, at the end av it.”

Two days later Harry and his companion arrived at Tamberton Court, young Sir Raymond’s residence, on foot, having walked from the station, where they had left their luggage.

Joseph Gower, the butler, opened the door, and stared at the two visitors in surprise.

“Sir Raymond’s not in, my lord,” he said. “He couldn’t have expected you by this train–at least, he said he was uncertain–”

“That’s all right, Gower,” returned Harry genially. “My fault, I expect–I wrote and merely said I should catch the first train I could. Now where has he gone? Can we go to find him?”

“If your lordship pleases,” said the well-trained old servant. “He is down at the pavilion on the island–where the old master had his laboratory. But I’ll send–”

“Oh, I know my way. Don’t trouble. I’ll go and hunt him up myself. It will be a joke to take him by surprise. Come on, Barney.”

And the two set off across the park in the direction of the seashore, which, Hurry knew, was not more than a mile or so distant.

Now, as they went on their way, Harry was asking himself one or two questions, and his thoughts led him to glance now and again at Barney, who strode on cheerfully beside him. Harry had written and told Ray that he was going to bring Barney, and he (Harry) was now cogitating as to whether Ray’s absence from his home at the time of their arrival might have been intentional.

As Barney had not forgotten, Ray had been fond, in the past, of playing jokes on the old hunter. Had his chum–Harry wondered–some little joke in store for them now? It was somewhat curious–Harry thought–that Ray should so have arranged that his visitor had to go to seek him at the place which had been his uncle’s laboratory and workshop–where all kinds of curious instruments and machines, no doubt, were to be found.

However, such speculations just then were vain; so he philosophically cast them aside, thinking that “time would show.” As it did.

It was a pleasant morning in early spring, and the air was fresh and sweet. Stepping onwards at a swinging pace, they approached the shore and came in sight of the island of which the butler had spoken.

On this island–which lay in a sheltered little bay, separated from the shore by a strip of water two or three hundred yards wide–was a long, rambling building of two floors, partly modern, and partly very old. It had a high tower at one end which looked like the remains of some ancient castle. The rest of the building was in the style of a waterside pavilion.

In front, on the side facing the sea, a high, strong flagstaff rose from the shore.

A flag was hanging limply from the upper part of this mast, and there was a small door in the side of the building facing the mainland. The water between was smooth and inviting–but no boat was to be seen by which it could be crossed, the door was fast closed, and there was no one about.

The whole place looked deserted, and Harry began to think either Ray had not come there or that he must have gone away again before they arrived.

Not a soul was to be seen, either up or down the shore, who might direct them or answer a question. In the distance, on a headland, there was a lighthouse. Doubtless someone might be found there, but it was too far away to be of service to them just then.

“Well, this is lively! What on earth are we to do now?” cried Harry. “If Ray is there, why doesn’t he show himself? How are we to let him know we are here? I can’t see a boat anywhere. Can you, Barney?”

Barney could only shake his head.

“Not a sign av a wan, sorr, can Oi see,” he answered. “Per’aps they expects visitorrs t’ stand an’ shout, loike they would at a ferry.”

“Ah! That’s not a bad idea,” Harry agreed. “Perhaps they do. So let’s shout.”

They shouted, both of them. Barney called out “Ferry!” Harry cried, “Boat, boat!” and then “Ray, Ray, ahoy!”

But it was all in vain. No answer came back. No one appeared. The place seemed utterly lonely and untenanted.

Then Barney made a discovery.

“Shure,” said he, “here’s a post–wid a nothice- board!”

“So there is!” Harry muttered, going across to inspect it. “Let’s see what it says.”

He had seen it before, but thinking it was some ordinary “Trespassers beware” sort of notice, he had not troubled to go near it.

Now he found it bore a very different legend.

“To call the boat, please ring,” it ran; and just below was a little white knob, with the word “Push” neatly printed thereon.

So Harry “pushed,” and then stood staring across at the island, awaiting developments.

“Shure, there’s a boat comin’,” cried Barney suddenly, “but niver a person can Oi see in the same.”

He proved to be right. From out of some hidden corner a boat had appeared, quietly making its way towards them across the placid water.

But neither oar nor sail was to be seen; nor was there any sign of human occupant. How it was propelled or controlled was a mystery. Nevertheless, it came on as steadily, and as straight, as though rowed by some ghostly oarsman, and steered by an invisible coxswain.

“Holy saints defind us!” gasped Barney, as he noted, with staring eyes, the boat’s uncanny progress. “Phwat’s sinding it along?”

Harry had to admit that he was himself no less puzzled. He could only watch with fascinated interest, while the mysterious craft gradually drew nearer and nearer.

Finally it ran alongside the landing-place, ending the little voyage as neatly as any human hand could have managed it.

“May Hiven protect us!” Barney cried.

“Shure, the craythure must be aloive! Will it spake next, Oi wonder?”

As though in answer, a large card suddenly popped up from somewhere inside the boat. Upon it was printed, in big, plain lettering:

PLEASE GET IN AND SIT DOWN.

“Oh, no fear! Not fur me!” exclaimed Barney, after he had made out the wording. “Faith! Thrust meself in a controivance loike that? No; it’s bewitched, it is!”

He shook his head and drew back with such sudden haste that Harry could not help laughing.

“Come, come! I expect it’s all right. Barney,” he said, stepping forward, and looking into the boat with great curiosity. “It’s evidently the way they manage things nowadays in this part of the country; only you and I have never seen it before, or we should have got used to it.”

As he spoke he glanced across at the island, rather expecting to catch sight of his chum, Ray, watching them and enjoying their perplexity. But there was still no sign of life; the two windows looking that way had no peeping face behind the glass. The affair reminded him of fairy tales he had read about enchanted castles, where visitors were waited on by invisible hands.

He got into the boat, and sat down on a cross seat; and he noticed that the craft was pointed at both ends so as to go in either direction without turning.

Suddenly he heard a sharp click. The card vanished, and another one rose up in its place.

“All aboard? Hurry up, or you’ll be left behind.” was the legend which the fresh card displayed.

Barney, inspired by his master’s example, had been about to risk it and jump in; but on seeing the card thus changing of their own accord, he drew back–or rather he tried to draw back. But Harry, who felt the boat moving, gripped him by the arm, and with his powerful grasp drew him forward, then bundled him unceremoniously into the middle of the craft.

There he tumbled on to the flooring boards, where he sat up, and looked helplessly and reproachfully at his young master.

Meantime, the boat had started, on its return journey, travelling smoothly and easily, without either jerk or vibration, while little ripples splashed merrily against its sides with a pleasant, soft, tinkling sound.

Suddenly there was another click, and this was followed by a whirring sound. It was like the preliminary flourish of a gramophone about to burst into metallic song.

Barney started, and grew more terrified than ever. He cast despairing looks at the fast-receding shore, then glanced apprehensively at the part of the interior the sound had come from.

The whirring sound increased in volume. And then, sure enough, a weirdly thrilling voice–albeit a little squawky in tone, perhaps–sang out:

“A life on the ocean wave, A home on the rolling deep!”

Barney gave a great jump, nearly capsizing the boat. Indeed, it must have gone over but for Harry a presence of mind in rolling to starboard just as his startled companion had lurched to port.

The joyous, squawky voice ceased singing and called out:

“Barney, it’s frightened ye are! Kape still! Ye’re interruptin’ me in me song–an’ ye’ll have the boat over!”

“Murther an’ witchcraft!” moaned Barney. He took out a big, red handkerchief and mopped his forehead. “Did iver annybody see the loikes av this?”

Barney’s face was such a picture that Harry roared with laughter. He knew now that Ray was somehow “engineering” all this, and was pretty certainly watching everything that went on from some concealed post of observation on the island–probably through glasses. Also, there must be a telephone on board connected with the pavilion.

Getting down on his knees he peeped and felt about under the seat round the end. And there he found what he sought. Partially concealed in a sort of casing was a curious, bell-like affair, something between the receiver of a telephone and the “trumpet” of a phonograph. It worked on a swivel, and he swung it out.

“Who are you?” he shouted into this contrivance.

“Shure, Oi’m the g-gh-ost av Bh-harney’s brither!” came the answer.

Barney shivered and groaned.

“Ray, it’s no use! I know your voice even through your cracked old trumpet!” Harry shouted back. “Come out into the open, and let’s have a look at you, you rascal!”

The boat, by this time, was three parts of the way across, and was fast approaching the island; and, as he spoke, Harry glanced expectantly at the closed door of the pavilion.

Nor was he disappointed. As if in response to his demand, the door flew open, much as does the little door in a cuckoo-clock, when the bird pops out to “cuckoo” the hour.

But instead of a bird figure, there stood, framed in the doorway, as it were, the tall, sturdy form of Harry’s chum, Ray Sinclair, smiling, bowing, and waving with his hands a graceful welcome to his visitors.

Ray Sinclair was, as stated, tall and sturdy, in which respect he resembled his friend; but in place of Harry’s curly, fair hair and grey eyes, he had dark hair and eyes of clear, deep brown.

Perhaps his face was rather more thoughtful when in repose than Harry Temperley’s, but as he came forward to greet the two, it was full of harmless, mischievous amusement.

He knew that he had roused their wonder and interest in the way he had received them, and he was evidently enjoying the joke.

The boat glided quietly alongside a landing-place and stopped; and by that time Ray was waiting to receive its occupants.

He shook hands heartily with Harry. Then, turning to Barney, shook his hand, too.

“Well,” he cried briskly, “have you had a pleasant voyage?”

Harry laughed.

“You’d better ask Barney,” he returned. “I’m afraid he was a bit upset. Anyway, he nearly upset the boat.”

“Why, Barney, was it seasick ye were?” Ray asked the hunter.

“Arrah, now, doan’t ye belave him, Misther Ray–if I may make so bould as t’ call ye so. Misther Harry, he tould me to–”

“Quite right, Barney.” said Ray, genially. “To you I’m merely Mister Ray–same as I used to be. I like it best so; it’s more like old times. But you haven’t answered my question.”

“Shure, it’s not say-sick I was, sorr; but I doan’t loike witchcraft, an’ magic, an’–”

“Well, that’s all right. Now, are you hungry, either of you? Because if not, Harry, I’d just like to take you round the place. It’s the only chance you’ll have to see some of my uncle’s curious machines and things until we come back from our travels.”

Harry declared he was in no immediate need of refreshment. He would rather have a look round.

“Then come with me, Harry. But Barney wouldn’t say ‘No’ to a little refreshment, I’ll bet?”

He gave a peculiar whistle, and at once there appeared in the doorway a young negro, who came towards the three with eyes that showed the whites as he rolled them about, and a genial grin which revealed a fine set of white teeth.

“Tom!” said Ray quietly, “this is the gentleman I told you of. And that is his servant, Barney. Take him with you, give him a glass of milk, if he likes that best, and make him comfortable. Now, be off, the pair of you. I’ll whistle when I want you.”

The young darky’s grin grew, if possible, wider than ever, as he made a half-military sort of salute to Harry; and then, putting an arm familiarly through Barney’s, led him away.

“Come wit me, Massa Barney,” Harry heard him say. “I’ll take care ob you. You an’ I’s goin’ t’ be heap pals. Me show you lots o’ fine tings–make you laugh, an’ have good time.”

“Hallo!” exclaimed Harry, as the two disappeared through the door. “Who’s that? Where did you pick him up?”

“Took him away from a circus, where he was being badly treated,” Ray replied. “The poor chap came over with a troupe to England from abroad, and he was made a slave and led a dog’s life. I rescued him, and he’s devoted to me now. I’m going to take him with us.”

“Looks a cheeky young rascal. I should say he’s ‘all there,’” was Harry’s shrewd comment, as they walked together towards the doorway.

Ray led his chum indoors, and up some stairs, to a large, lofty room with windows front and back, the former facing seawards, and the latter looking towards the mainland.

The place was evidently a combined workshop and laboratory. Around the floor were many weird and wonderful-looking machines; upon the benches was a collection of chemical apparatus; on the walls were boards with numerous switches; and, finally, there were two or three telescopes on stands. Ray laughed as he pointed to the switches, saying:

“That’s the ‘magic and witchcraft’ which caused honest Barney so much perturbation, and, I expect, has been puzzling you. I merely turned those switches on and off, and so controlled the boat, while I looked at you through that telescope. Look through it and see how powerful it is! I could see the faces of you two as plainly as I can see yours now, and could read what you were saying by watching your lips. My gracious! You looked so comical, both of you, I was nearly bursting with laughter.”

Harry peered through the telescope, and laughed, too. “Yes, I can see it’s a most powerful glass,” he said. “Splendid. Ray, you’re a bit of a marvel.”

A shadow fell on the young fellow’s good-looking face, and for a space he became grave.

“Not I,” he declared, modestly shaking his head. “It’s dear old Uncle Ralph’s doing! He taught me, you know. And it is in order to carry out his last wishes that we are going abroad.”

Harry, now serious, too, nodded his head.

“Ah! You have not explained about that yet,” he reminded his friend. “At present I’m quite in the dark as to what we’re going for. Though, for that matter,” he added briskly, “I’m jolly glad to have the chance of going with you, even if there were nothing particular to go for.”

“It’s a curious story,” Ray returned musingly, “and I won’t reel it out just now–time enough for that–but there’s a spice of mystery attached to it which I don’t understand myself. It’s puzzling me a bit. Do you know, somehow, that young darky you saw seems to be mixed up in it!”

Harry stared.

“How can that be? What on earth can that nigger rascal have to do with it?” he asked.

“That’s the riddle. And It’s not him so much as the people I took him from that I’m thinking of. You know I told you I took him from a circus?”

“Yes. Well?”

“The show has been in this district for some time–in fact, it’s still not far away. Now the people he was with, and who were ill-treating him, were Indians–an Indian troupe–and they came from–of all places–British Guiana–the place where we’re going to! Now, is that a mere coincidence, or is there something at the back of it? That’s what’s puzzling me.”

Harry uttered a long-drawn whistle.

“By Jove! That sounds strange!” he commented. “What reasons have you for thinking so?”

“Well, for one thing, these Indians–they perform with alligators and serpents, and so on–are the very same tribe as those I have to pay a visit to. And for another–”

Just then there came an outcry from outside. Barney’s voice was heard raised in terrified accents, and he was calling on all the saints for protection.

The two chums hurried to the window facing the sea, which was open, and, looking out, they saw a curious sight.

The mast, of which mention has been already made, which was fixed on the shore, and rose out of a square, roomy platform, had an immense ball attached to it. That is to say, the mast ran through a hole in the ball, so that the latter could move up and down when made to do so by some hidden machinery.

It was, in fact, an affair like that at Greenwich Observatory, where the ball rises and falls at a certain hour every day, so that captains of passing vessels can set their chronometers to exact Greenwich time.

In the present case, Tom, who knew that the time was near when the ball would rise, had, with every appearance of innocence, persuaded Barney to get on the platform, and then climb on to the top of the ball, in order to “see what a lily-lily, bountiful! view”–as the young deceiver expressed it–could be had from that elevated position.

Then Barney had felt the ball tremble and begin to move. He had instinctively put his arms round the mast; and was now, as the two chums looked out at him, slowly rising in the air shouting and groaning with bewilderment and fear.

As to Tom, the mischievous cause of his plight, he was down on the shore, simply dancing with delight, rolling his eyes, and clapping his hands.

For some moments neither Harry nor Ray could speak for laughing, so ludicrous was the figure cut by poor Barney, and so extraordinary his antics, as he was forced, farther and farther, upwards. Finally, the ball reached the top of the mast, and remained there.

Then Ray shouted to him not to be alarmed. All he had to do was to hold tight, and in five minutes the ball would duly descend, and he would be able to get back on to the platform again.

“Can’t we get him down before?” Harry asked, when he could control his laughter.

“No; it’s worked by an electric current from Greenwich.” Ray explained. “It rises at five minutes to one, and sinks again precisely at one o’clock. But Barney will be all right if he sticks to the pole. This is that rascal Tom’s doing–you can see that.”

But a strange Nemesis was to fall upon the larking young negro. There was a sudden rush, several figures appeared unexpectedly on the beach, and darted at the laughing youngster.

The figures wore strange costumes, and had dark-red complexions, and uttered weird cries in some unknown tongue. In short, they were Indians!

Ere the two at the window above well grasped what was happening, the strangers had seized upon Torn, and, in spite of his struggles, were carrying him off to a boat which had stolen up to the island unperceived and was lying just round the corner behind the other end of the pavilion.

“Quick! We must rescue him!” cried Ray. “There’s a motor-boat below, Come down with me, and we’ll go after them! This is monstrous–outrageous! They sha’n’t have that youngster again to ill-treat and torture. We must get him back.”

“I’m with you there!” exclaimed Harry. “We’ll get him away from them if we have to fight the whole impudent gang!”

By the time they had reached the place where Ray’s boat was housed. Barney had come down, and at their call ran to join them.

In a moment he seemed transformed. All his fears and annoyance had fled, and he was now the alert, cool-headed, determined hunter, ready to meet the Indians on their own ground, so to speak, as he had done with others like them, years before, in their native wilds.

“Shure, we’ll git the young imp out av their hands, Misther Ray. It’s meself as knows how t’ dale wid them gentry!” he cried.

2. A FIGHT IN THE WATER

RAY led his chum to a boathouse on the shore, where lay a motor-boat ready for use at any moment.

“Here we are, Harry,” he cried, as he himself sprang on board. “Just unhitch that rope while I start the engine! Those beggars have got a long start, and they carry a big sail, but I think we ought to be able to catch them up before they can get away.”

Lord Harry cleared the mooring-rope, and as he jumped in he was followed by Barney, who came racing along and scrambled on board just as the boat began to move.

“Bad scran t’ the spalpeens!” he muttered, shaking his fist at the craft they were about to chase. “Phwat would they want t’ be doing now wid that young nigger?”

“That’s just what I can’t tell you, Barney,” Ray answered, “except that I’ve no doubt they want to revenge themselves on the poor lad for leaving them and coming with me. That’s why we must get him out of their hands at once–before they have time to do him any harm.”

Barney nodded.

“You’ll find a pair of marine-glasses in that locker, Harry,” Ray added to his chum. “Just get them out, and have a look at what those people are doing. My hands are full, and I want to know what they’re up to.”

Harry found the glasses, and peered through them at the Indians in the boat ahead. Then he uttered an angry exclamation:

“They’re tying him up,” he said. “And none too tenderly! I saw one of the beggars strike him! I’ll mark that fellow, and make him feel sorry when we catch him!”

Though he had seen so little of the negro, yet, he had already got to like him.

The youngster was, he could see, a genuine child of nature, brimful of fun, and possibly of mischief, but with a lot of good feeling lying beneath. Harry, who was a quick, shrewd observer, had noticed the look he had cast at Ray when he had first appeared. It was full of love and loyalty–the eloquent, faithful look one sees in the eyes of a Newfoundland dog when watching its master.

Harry loved his old schoolfellow with a whole-hearted affection, and was ready to like and trust this waif from other lands for that one look alone.

Meanwhile, the two boats were racing along, parallel with the shore, at a good speed, for the breeze was freshening each moment; and this was in favour to some extent of the fugitives. It increased their pace, while the rising waves hampered the much smaller motor-boat.