Just now he was striding forward as rapidly as he could, as it was beginning to rain.

"Keep your eye on the hind sight boys, and don't lose it," he cried; "we must hurry or we shall be caught in a pocket to-night."

Hour after hour they marched, the rain pouring down steadily, and the ground becoming every moment softer. The walking wearied them terribly, but they pushed on in the hope that they might be able to cross the upper waters of the Nepalgah river before night. This would place them on the west bank of that stream, where Sam believed that he should find the marching tolerable. If they should fail in this, Sam feared that the water would rise during the night, and fill all the bottom lands. In that event he must continue marching down the east bank of the river; not going very far out of his way, it is true, but having to pass through what he was satisfied must be a much more difficult country than that on the other side.

Night came at last, and they were yet not within sight of the stream, notwithstanding their utmost exertions. Sam called a halt just before dark, and selected a camping place.



CHAPTER XIII.

WHAT DOES SAM MEAN?

When the halt was called, Sam said, very much to the astonishment of the boys:—

"We must build a house here, boys."

"A house!" exclaimed Tom, "What for, pray?"

"To live in, of course. What else are houses for?"

"Yes, of course, but aren't we going on?"

"Not at present, and it rains. We must dry our clothes to-night if we can, and keep as dry as we can while we stay here, which may be for a day or two. To do that we must have a house, but it need not be a very good one. Joe!"

"Yes, sah."

"Build a fire right here."

"Agin de big log dah, Mas' Sam?" pointing to the trunk of a great tree which had fallen in some earlier storm.

"No, build it right here. Sid, you and Bob Sharp go down into the canebrake there and get two or three dozen of the longest canes you can find."

"Green ones?" asked Bob.

"Green or dry, it doesn't matter in the least," answered Sam. "The rest of you boys go down into the swamp off there and cut a lot of the palmetes you find there,—this sort of thing," pointing to one of the plants which grew at his feet. "Get as many of them as you can, the more the better. The fire will be burning presently and will throw a light all around."

The boys were puzzled, but they hurried away to the work assigned them. Sam busied himself digging a trench on the side of the fallen tree opposite the fire. The great branches of the tree held it up many feet from the ground at the point selected, and it was Sam's purpose to make the trunk the front of his house, building behind it, and having the fire in front. The lower part of the trunk was high enough from the ground to let all the boys, except Sid Russell, pass under without stooping; Sid had to stoop a little.

The fire blazed presently, and by the time that Sam had his ditch done the boys began to come in with loads of cane and palmetes. The palmetes are plants out of which what we call "palm-leaf fans" are made. They grow in bunches right out of the ground in many southern swamps. Each leaf is simply a palm leaf fan that needs ironing out flat, except that the edge consists of long points which are cut off in making the fans.

Sam cut two forked sticks and drove them in the ground about ten feet from the fallen tree trunk, and about ten feet apart. When driven in they were about five feet high, while the top of the trunk was perhaps eight feet from the ground. Cutting a long, straight pole, Sam laid it in the forks of his two stakes, parallel with the tree trunk. Then taking the canes he laid them from this pole to the top of the tree trunk, for rafters, placing them as close to each other as possible. On top of them he laid the palmete leaves, taking care to lap them over each other like shingles. When the roof was well covered with them, he made the boys bring some armfuls of the long gray moss which abounds in southern forests, and lay it on top of the roof, to hold the palmete leaves in place, and to prevent them from blowing away. For sides to the house bushes answered very well, and in less than an hour after the company halted, they were safely housed in a shed open only on the side toward the fire, and the ground within was rapidly drying, while supper was in course of preparation.

"Sam," said Tom presently.

"Well," answered Sam.

"What did you dig that big ditch for? a little one would have carried off all the water that'll drip from the roof."

"Yes, but I dug this one to carry off other water than that."

"What water?"

"That which was already in the ground that the house is built on. You see this soil is largely composed of sand, and water runs out of it very rapidly if it has anywhere to run to. I made the ditch for it to run into, and if you'll examine the ground here you'll find that my trench is doing its work very well indeed."

"That's a fac'," said Sid Russell, feeling of the sand.

"I say Sam," said Billy Bowlegs, squaring himself before Sam, with arms akimbo.

"Well, say it then," replied Sam, laughing, and assuming a similar attitude.

"If there is any little thing, about any sort o' thing, that you don't happen to know, I wish you'd just oblige me by telling me what it is."

"I haven't time, Billy," laughed Sam, "the list of things I don't know is too long to begin this late in the evening."

"Well, you've made me feel like an idiot every day since we started on this tramp, by knowing all about things, and doing little things that any fool ought to have thought of, and not one of us fools did."

"Come, supper is ready," replied Sam.

After supper the boys busied themselves drying their clothes by the roaring fire of pitch pine which blazed and crackled in front of the tent, making the air within like that of an oven. While they were at it they fell to talking, of course, and it is equally a matter of course that they talked about the subject which was uppermost in their minds. They knew very well that until the house was built, and supper over, they could get nothing out of Sam. "He never will explain anything till every body is ready to listen," said Sid Russell, who had become one of Sam's heartiest admirers. Recognizing the truth of Sid's observation, the boys had tacitly consented to postpone all questions respecting Sam's plans and queer manoeuvres until after supper, when there was time for him to talk and for them to listen. Now that the time had come, the long repressed curiosity broke forth in questions.



CHAPTER XIV.

SAM CLEARS UP THE MYSTERY.

Tommy was the spokesman.

"Now then, Sam," he said, holding out his trowsers toward the fire to dry them, "tell us all about it."

"I can't," replied Sam.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know all about it myself."

"Well, what do you mean by building this shed?"

"Don't call it a shed, Tom," said Billy Bowlegs, "it's a mansion, and these are our broad acres all around here."

"Yes, and the alligators down in the swamp there are our cattle," said Sam.

"And here's our fowls," said Billy, slapping at the mosquitoes, "game ones they are too, ain't they?"

"Stop your nonsense," said Sid Russell, "I want to hear Sam's explanation. Tell us, Sam, what did you build the shanty for?"

"To live in while it rains, to be sure."

"Yes, but how long are we going to stay here?"

"I don't know."

"Well then, why are we to stop here at all?" asked Tom, "and what have you been thinking about all the afternoon? You didn't open your head after it began raining, until we got here; you were working out something, and this halt means that you've worked it out. What is it? That's what we want to know."

"You're partly right," said Sam, laughing, "but you're partly wrong. I have been thinking how to get out of this pocket we're caught in, and I've partly worked it out, but not entirely. That is to say, I must wait till morning before I can say precisely what I shall have to do. Let me show you where we are;" and with that Sam took out his map and spread it on the ground before him, while the boys clustered around.

"Here we are," pointing to a spot on the map, "near the Nepalgah river, at the upper end of the peninsula it makes with the Patsaliga and the Connecuh rivers. You see the Patsaliga and the Nepalgah both run into the Connecuh, their mouths being not many miles apart. This peninsula that we're on is low, swampy, and full of creeks, a little lower down. This heavy rain will raise all the rivers and all the creeks, and make them spread out all over the low grounds on both sides. The land is higher on the other side of the Nepalgah river, and it was my plan to cross over to-day, but when this rain came on I began to think it not at all likely that we could get to the river before night, and then I began to lay plans for use in case of a failure."

"That's what you've been puzzling over all the afternoon, then?" said Bob Sharp.

"Yes. I've been wondering what we should do, and trying to hit upon some plan. You see the matter stands thus: we can't go on on this side, that is certain; the river will be out of its banks to-morrow morning, and we can't easily get across it; and if we were across it would still be difficult marching, as there are creeks and swamps enough to bother us over there."

"What are we to do, then?" asked Tommy, uneasily. "We mustn't go back. That'll never do."

"Never you mind, Tom," said Sid Russell, whose faith in Sam's fertility of resource was literally boundless, "never you mind. We ain't a goin' back if the Captain knows it. He's got it all fixed somehow in his head, you may bet your bottom dollar. Just wait till he explains."

"That's so," said Billy Bowlegs, "only it seems to me he's got a mighty hard sum this time, an' if he's got the right answer I'd like to see just what it is."

"He's got it, ain't you, Sam?" asked Sid, confidently.

"I believe I have," said Sam.

"What is it?" asked all the boys in a breath.

"Canoe," answered Sam.

"To cross the river with? That's the trick," said Bob Sharp.

"No," replied Sam, "that was what I first thought of; or rather, I first thought of building some sort of a raft to cross the river on, and then it occurred to me that we could go on faster on high water in a canoe than on foot; so my notion is to dig out a good big canoe and ride all the way in it."

"Can we do that?"

"Yes, the Nepalgah river runs into the Connecuh, and the Connecuh into the Escambia, and the Escambia runs into Escambia Bay, and Escambia Bay is an arm of Pensacola Bay. Here, look at it on the map; you see it's as straight a course as we could go even on land, or pretty nearly."

"Well, but you said you couldn't tell till morning about it."

"I can't. I am not absolutely sure where we are, but I think we are within a very short distance of the river. I shall look in the morning, and if we are, we'll dig the canoe here, or rather, we'll live here and dig the canoe down by the river, for it must be a big one to carry all of us, and we can't carry it any distance. If I find that we are not as near the river as I suppose, we must break up here and find a camping ground further on. At all events we'll dig the canoe and ride in it. The rivers will be high, and it will be easy travelling with the current, while there won't be any danger of getting the fever from being on the water, as there would have been before the rain when the water was low. Come, our clothes are dry now and we must go to sleep, as we've a hard day's work before us."

"How long will it take to dig out the canoe?" asked Bob Sharp.

"One day, I hope, but it may take as much as three. Luckily we've killed so much game to-day, that we needn't be afraid of running out of victuals. But we must lose no time."

"Oh, Sam—" began one of the boys after all had laid down for the night.

"I won't open my mouth again to-night, except to yawn," said Sam, and it was not long before the whole party were asleep.



CHAPTER XV.

A FOREST SHIP YARD.

Day light had no sooner shown itself the next morning than Sam started away from the camp on a tour of observation. He was a fine looking fellow as he strode through the woods, straight as an arrow, broad shouldered, brawny, with legs that seemed all the more shapely for being clothed in closely fitting trowsers that were thrust into his long boot legs. Two of his companions watched him walk away in the early light.

"What a splendid fellow he is, outside and inside!" said Bob Sharp, half to himself and half to Jake Elliott, who stood by the fire. Jake said nothing and Bob was left to guess for himself what impression their stalwart young leader had made upon that moody youth. Meantime Sam had disappeared in the forest. He walked on for a little way when he came to a creek, a small one ordinarily, scarcely more than a crooked brook, but swollen now to considerable size.

"This may do," he said to himself. "At all events it leads to the river, and I may as well explore it as I go."

Accordingly he followed the stream. Mile after mile he walked, through bottom lands that were well nigh impassable now, never losing sight of the creek until he reached its point of junction with the river. It was still raining, but Sam persisted in the work of exploration until he knew the country thoroughly which lay between his camp and the river. Then he returned, not weary with his four hours' walking, but very decidedly hungry.

Luckily, Bob Sharp's enthusiastic admiration for his leader had taken a very prosaic and practical turn. It was Bob's turn to prepare breakfast, and a hare was to be cooked. The boys wanted it cut up and fried, but Bob remained firm.

"No, siree," he said, "Captain Sam's gone off to look out for us, without waiting for his breakfast, and when he comes back he's to have roast rabbit for breakfast, and his pick of the pieces at that. If any of you boys want fried victuals you may go and kill your own rabbits and fry them for yourselves, or you may cook your bacon. I killed this game myself, and nobody shall eat a mouthful of it till Captain Sam carves it."

The boys were hungry, but they agreed with Bob, when he thus peremptorily suggested the propriety of awaiting their young leader's return, and so when Sam got back, about ten o'clock, he found a hungry company and a beautifully roasted hare awaiting him, the latter hanging by a string to a branch of an over-hanging tree immediately in front of the fire.

After remonstrating with the boys in a good natured way, for delaying their breakfast so long, Sam carved, as Bob had put it; that is to say he held the hare by a hind leg, while another boy held it by a fore leg, and with their jack knives they quickly divided it into pieces, using the skillet for a platter.

The boys were not so hungry that they could forget their curiosity as to the result of Sam's exploration.

"Where are we, Sam?"

"Did you find the river?"

"Is it close by?"

These and half a dozen similar questions were asked in rapid succession.

"One thing at a time," said Sam, "or, better still, listen and I'll tell you all about it without waiting to be questioned."

"All right, any way to get the news out of you," said Billy Bowlegs.

"Well then," said Sam, "to begin with, we're not very near the river. It's about five miles away, as nearly as I can judge."

Billy Bowlegs's countenance fell.

"Then we can't make the canoe here after all our work to build a house."

"I didn't say that, Billy. On the contrary, I think we must make it here, as there is no fit place for a camp nearer the river than this. Beside, the river will be out of its banks pretty soon if the rain continues, and will overflow all the low grounds."

"Then we've got to carry the canoe five miles! We can't do it, that's all," said Jake Elliott, who had not spoken before.

Sam looked at Jake rather sternly, and was about to make him a sharp answer, but changed his mind and said instead:—

"You and Billy are in too big a hurry to draw conclusions, Jake. Billy begins by assuming that because the river is five miles away we can't make the canoe here, and you jump to the conclusion that if we make it here we must carry it five miles. The fact is, you're both wrong. We can make it here, and we needn't carry it five miles, or one mile, or half a mile."

"How's that?" asked Tom.

"Now you're in a hurry, are you Tom? I was just about to explain and only stopped to swallow, but before I could do it you pushed a question in between my teeth."

"SILENCE!" roared Billy Bowlegs, "the court cannot be heard." Billy's father was sheriff of his county, and Billy had often heard him make more noise in commanding silence in the court room than the room full of people were making by requiring the caution.

Silence succeeding the laughter which Billy's unfilial mimicry had provoked, Sam resumed his explanation.

"There's a creek down there about a hundred yards, which runs into the river. It is a small affair, but is pretty well up now, and my plan is to make the canoe here and paddle her down the creek to the river while the water is high."

"Hurrah! now for work!" shouted the boys, who by this time had finished their breakfast.

"Where's your timber, Sam?" asked Tom, bringing in the axes and adze out of the tent.

Sam had taken pains to select a proper tree for his purpose, a gigantic poplar more than three feet in diameter, which lay near the creek, where it had fallen several years before.

When the boys saw it, they looked at Sam in astonishment.

"Why, Sam, you don't mean to work that great big thing into a dug-out, do you?" asked Sid Russell.

"Why not, Sid?" asked Sam.

"Why, its bigger'n a dozen dug-outs."

"Yes, that is true, but we're not going to make an ordinary canoe. We're going to cut out something as nearly like a yawl, or a ship's launch as possible. She is to be sixteen feet long, and three and a quarter feet wide amidships."

Sam had learned a good deal about boats during his boyhood in Baltimore.

"Whew! what do you want such a whopper for?"

"Well, in the first place such a boat will be of use to us down at Pensacola, where we couldn't use an ordinary canoe at all. You see I'm going to shape her like a sea boat, partly by cutting away, and partly by pinning a keel to her."

"What'll you pin it on with?" asked Tom.

"With pins, of course; wooden ones."

"What'll you bore the holes with?"

"With my bit of iron, heated red hot."

"That's so. So you can."

"But, Sam," said Sid.

"Well?"

"You said that was in the first place; what's the next?"

"In the next place, we'll need such a boat in running down the river."

"Why?"

"Because there'll be no fit camping places in the low grounds, even if the water isn't over the banks, and so we must stay in the boat night and day, which would be rather an uncomfortable thing to do in a little round bottomed dug-out, that would turn over if a fellow nodded. Beside that I'm anxious to make all the time I can and when we leave here I mean to push ahead night and day without stopping."

"How'll we manage without eatin' or sleepin'?" asked Jake Elliott, who seemed somehow to be interested chiefly in discovering what appeared to him to be insurmountable obstacles in the way of the execution of Sam's plans.

"I have no thought," answered Sam, "of trying to do without either eating or sleeping."

"Where'll we eat," asked Jake, "ef we don't stop nowhere?"

"In the boat, of course."

"Yes, but where'll we cook?"

"Here," answered Sam.

"Before we start?"

"Yes, certainly. We'll kill some game, cook it at night and eat it cold on the way with cold bread. That will save our bacon to cook fish with down at Pensacola."

"Well, but how about sleeping?"

"That is one of my reasons for making so large a boat. We can sleep in her very comfortably, one staying awake to steer and paddle, all of us taking turns at it."

This plan was eagerly welcomed by the boys, who speedily fell to work upon the log under Sam's direction. The poplar was very easily worked, and the boys were all of them skilled in the use of the axes. Relieving each other at the work, they did not permit it to cease for a moment, and in half an hour the trunk of the tree was severed in two places, giving them a log of the desired length to work on.

Then began the work of hewing it into shape, and this admitted of four boys working at once, two with the axes, one with the adze and one with the hatchet. When night came the log had already assumed the shape of a rude boat, turned bottom up, and Sam was more than satisfied with the progress made. His comrades were enthusiastic, however, and insisted upon building a bonfire and working for an hour or two by its light, after supper. They could not work at shaping it by such a light, but they turned it over and hewed the side which was to be dug out, down to a level with its future gunwales. The next day they began work early, and when they quitted it at night their task was done. The boat was a rude affair but reasonably well shaped, broad, so that she drew very little water considering her weight, and with a keel which kept her perfectly steady in the water.



CHAPTER XVI.

CAPTAIN SAM PLAYS THE PART OF A SKIPPER.

The launching of the boat was easy enough, and she rode beautifully on the water. To test her capacity to remain right side up, Sam put the boys one by one on her gunwale, and found that their combined weight, thrown as far as possible to one side, was barely sufficient to make her take water.

The stores were stowed carefully in the bow and stern; rough seats were fitted in after the manner of a boat's thwarts, but not fastened. They were left moveable for the purpose of making it possible for several of the boys to lie down in the bottom of the boat at once. There was no rudder as yet, although it was Sam's purpose to fix one to the stern as soon as possible, and also to make a mast when they should get to Pensacola, where a sail could be procured. For the present two long poles and some rough paddles were their propelling power.

"When we get out into the river," said Sam, "she will float pretty rapidly on the high water, and we need only use the paddles to give her steerage, and to paddle her out of eddies."

"What are the poles for?" asked Tom.

"To push her in shoal water, for one thing," answered Sam, "and to fend off of banks and trees."

A large quantity of the long gray moss of the swamps was stored in the bottom for bedding purposes, and the boat was ready for her passengers. One by one they took their places, Sam in the bow, and the voyage down the creek began. This stream was very crooked, and many fallen trees interrupted its course, so that it was very difficult to navigate it with so long a boat. In addition to this, the river had risen much faster than the creek, and the back water had entirely destroyed the creek's current, so that the boat must be pushed and paddled every inch of the way.

Nearly the entire day was consumed in getting to the river, five miles away from the starting place, and as the afternoon waned the boys grew tired, while Jake Elliott began to manifest his old disposition to criticise Sam's plans.

"May be we'll make five mile a day, an' may be we wont," he said. "We'll git to Pensacola in six or eight weeks, I s'pose, if we don't starve by the way, an' if this water runs that way."

"Very well," said Sam, "the longer we are on the route the better it will please you, Jake."

"Why?"

"Because you don't want to get there at all. But we'll be there sooner than you think?"

"How long do you reckon it will take us, Sam?" asked Billy.

"I don't know, because I don't know how long we'll be getting out of this creek."

"Well, I mean after we get into the river."

"About a day and a half," replied Sam, "possibly less."

"You don't mean it?"

"Don't I? What do I mean, then?"

"How far is it?"

"Less than a hundred miles."

"Well, we can't go a hundred miles in a day and a half."

"Can't we? I think we can. We'll run day and night, you know, and the current, at this stage of the water, can't be much less than five miles an hour. Four miles an hour will take us ninety-six miles in twenty-four hours."

"Hurrah for Captain Sam!" shouted Sid Russell, "Yonder's the river, an' she's a runnin' like a mill tail, too."

Sid was standing up, and his great length lifted his head high enough to permit him to see the rapidly running stream long before any one else did. The rest strained their eyes, or rather their necks trying to catch a glimpse of the stream, but the undergrowth of the swamp lay between them and the sight. Sid's announcement put new energy into them, however, and they plied their paddles vigorously for ten minutes, when, with a sudden swing around a last curve of the creek, Sam brought his boat fairly out into the river, and turned her head down stream. The river was full to its banks, and in places it had already overflowed. The current was so strong that the mouth of the creek, out of which they had come, was out of sight in a very few minutes. Work with the paddles was suspended, Sam only dipping his into the water occasionally for the purpose of keeping the boat straight in mid-channel. The river was full of drift-wood, some of it consisting of large logs and uprooted trees, and night was already falling. Jake Elliott now spoke again.

"We ain't a goin' to try to run in the dark in all this 'ere drift, are we?" he asked.

"I can't say that we are," replied Sam.

"Why, you're not going to stop for the night, are you, Sam?" asked Billy Bowlegs, who was enjoying the boat ride greatly.

"Certainly not," replied Sam.

"Why, you said you was, jist a minute ago," muttered Jake Elliott.

"Oh, no! I didn't," said Sam, whose patience had been sorely taxed already by Jake's persistent disposition to find fault.

"What did you say, then?" asked that worthy.

"Merely that we're not going to try to run in the dark to-night."

"Well, you're a goin' to stop then?"

"No, I am not."

"I see how dat is," said Joe, suddenly catching an idea.

"Well, explain it to Jake, then," said Sam laughing.

"W'y, Mas' Jake, don't you see de moon's gwine to shine bright as day, an' so dey ain't a gwine to be no dark to-night."

"That's it, Joe," replied Sam, "but if there was no moon I'd still go on. The drift isn't in the least dangerous."

"Why not, Sam?" asked Tom.

"Well, in the first place, it wouldn't be very easy to knock a hole in such a boat as this anyhow, and as we're only floating, we go exactly with the drift nearest us; we go faster than the drift in by the shore there, because we're in the strongest part of the current, but the drift nearest us is in the same current, and moves as fast as we do, or pretty nearly so. My paddling adds something to our speed, but not much. I only paddle enough to keep the boat straight in the channel. If we were to stop against the bank, and fasten the boat there, the drift would bump us pretty badly, but it can do us no harm so long as we float along with it."



The moon, nearly at its full, was rising now, and very soon the river became a picture. Running rapidly, bank full, with tall trees bending over and throwing their shadows across it, with here and there a fragment of a moon glade on the water, while the dense undergrowth of the woods, lying in shadow, gave the stream a margin of inky blackness on each side,—it was a scene to stimulate the imaginations of the group of healthy boys who sat in the boat gliding silently but swiftly down the river.

Hour after hour they sped on, not a boy among them in the least disposed to avail himself of Sam's permission to lie down for a nap on the moss in the bottom of the boat. Every bend of the river gave them a new picture to look at, and finally Sam had to use authority to make the boys lie down.

"We must all sleep some," he said, "for to-morrow the sun will shine too strong for sleeping, and we've done a hard day's work. It will be now about seven or eight hours until sunrise, and there are just seven of us. It will take half an hour for the rest of you to get to sleep, and so I'll run the boat for an hour and a half. Then I'll wake Billy, and he can run it an hour. Then Joe must take the paddle,—his name is Butler, you see,—and so on in alphabetical order, each of you taking charge for an hour. If anything happens,—if you get into an eddy, or for any other reason find yourselves in doubt about anything, wake me at once. Now go to sleep."

Sam took the first watch, because he wished to see, before going to sleep, that everything was likely to go well. Then he waked Billy Bowlegs, and, surrendering the paddle to him, went to sleep.

There was no noise to disturb any one, and all the boys slept soundly, none of them more soundly than Sam, who had worked especially hard during the day, and had had a weight of responsibility upon him during the difficult voyage down the creek. He was quietly sleeping some hours later when suddenly the boat was sharply jarred, and turned very nearly on her side, while the water could be heard surging around her bow and stern.

Sam was on his feet in a moment, and the other boys sprang up quickly.

"Who's at the oar?" cried Sam, "and what's the matter?"

"We've got tangled in the drift, just as I told you we would," answered Jake Elliott from the bow, where he sat, paddle in hand, he being on watch at the time.

"Just as you meant that we should," answered Sam. "You've deliberately paddled us out of the current into a drift hammock, you sneaking scoundrel," continued Sam, now thoroughly angry, seizing Jake by the shoulders, and throwing him violently into the bottom of the boat. "I have a notion to give you a good thrashing right here, or to set you ashore and go on without you."

"Do it, Captain! Do it! He deserves it," cried the boys, but Sam had made up his mind not to give way to his temper, however provoking Jake's conduct might be, and as soon as he could master himself, he renewed his resolution, which had been broken only in the moment of sudden awakening.

The boat was not damaged in the least, but her position was a difficult one from which to extricate her. She lay on the upper side of a pile of drift which had lodged against some trees, and a floating tree had swept down against her side, pinning her to the hammock, as such drift piles are called in the South. The work of freeing her required all of Sam's judgment, as well as all the boys' strength, but within half an hour, or a little more, the boat was again in the stream.

"Now," said Sam, speaking very calmly, "we've lost a good deal of sleep and must make it up. Jake Elliott, you will take the paddle again, and keep it till sunrise."

"Well, but what if he runs us into another snarl?" asked Sid Russell, uneasily.

"He won't make any more mistakes," replied Sam.

"How can you be sure of that?" queried Tom.

"Because I have whispered in his ear," said Sam.

What Sam had whispered in Jake's ear was this:—

"If any further accidents happen to-night, I'll put you ashore in the swamp, and leave you there. I mean it."

He did mean it, and Jake was convinced of the fact. He knew very well, too, that if he should be left there in the swamp, with all the creeks out of their banks, the chances were a thousand to one against his success in getting back to civilization again. Sam's threat was a harsh one, but nothing less harsh would have answered his purpose, and he knew very well that Jake would not dare to incur the threatened penalty.

The boys slept again, and soundly. The night waned and day dawned, and still the current carried them forward. They breakfasted in the boat, first stripping to the waist and sluicing their heads, necks, arms and chests with water. Breakfast was scarcely over when the boat shot out of the Nepalgah into the Connecuh river, whereat the boys gave a cheer. About noon they entered the Escambia river, and their speed slackened. Here they had met the influence of the tide which checked the force of the current, and their progress grew steadily slower, until Sam directed the use of the paddles. They had long since left the drift wood behind, lodged along the banks, and they had now a broader and straighter stream than before, although it was still not very broad nor very straight. Two boys paddled at a time, one upon each side, while a third steered, and by relieving each other occasionally they maintained a very good rate of speed.

The moon was well up into the sky again when the river spread out into Escambia bay, and the boat was moored with a grape vine, in a little cove on one of the small islands in the upper end of the bay, about fifteen miles above Pensacola. The boys leaped upon land again gladly. Their voyage had been made successfully, and they were at last in the neighborhood of the danger they had set out to encounter, and the duty they had undertaken to do.



CHAPTER XVII.

THLUCCO.

"What's your plan now, Sam?" asked Tom, when the boat had been secured, and a fire built.

"First and foremost, where are we?" asked Sid Russell.

"Yes, an' how fur is it to somewhere else?" questioned Billy Bowlegs.

"An' is we gwine to somewher's or somewher's else?" demanded black Joe, with a grin.

"One question at a time," said Sam, "and they will go a good deal farther."

"Well, begin with Sid's question, then?" said Tommy. "His is the most sensible; where are we?"

"We're on an island," returned Sam, "and the island is somewhere here in the upper part of Escambia bay. You see how it lies on our map. The bay ends down there in Pensacola bay, and there is Pensacola, about fifteen miles away. We came here, you know, to find out what is going on in Pensacola and its neighborhood, and my plan is to run down past the town, to some point four or five miles below, in the neighborhood of Fort Barrancas. There I'll set up a fishing camp, but first I must get tackle, and, if possible, some duck cloth for a sail."

At this point the conversation was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a canoe's bow in their midst. Their fire was built near the water's edge, and the canoe which interrupted them had been paddled silently to the bank, so that its bow extended nearly into their fire.

"Ugh, how do," said a voice in the canoe, "how do, pale faces," and with that the solitary occupant of the canoe leaped ashore and seated himself in the circle around the fire.

Joe was frightened, but the other boys were reasonably self-possessed.

"Injun see fire; Injun come see. Injun friend."

"White man friend, too," said Sam, holding out his hand. "Injun eat?" offering the visitor some food.

"No. Injun eat heap while ago. Injun no hungry, but Injun friendly. Fire good. Fire warm Injun."

Sam continued the conversation, desiring to learn whether or not there was an Indian encampment in the neighborhood. He was not afraid of an Indian attack, for the Indians were not on the war path in Florida, but he was afraid of having his boat and tools stolen.

"Injun's friends over there?" asked Sam, pointing in the direction from which the canoe had come.

"No; Injun's friends not here. You know Injun; you see him before?"

"No," said Sam, "I don't remember you."

"Injun see you, all same. Injun General Jackson's friend. Injun see you when you come General Jackson's camp. Me go way then for General Jackson."

Here was a revelation. The young savage was, or professed to be, one of the friendly Indians whom General Jackson was using as scouts. It was certain that he had seen Sam on his entrance into General Jackson's camp, and he must have left immediately after Sam's arrival there.

"How did you get here so quick?" asked Sam.

"Me run 'cross country. Injun run heap."

"Where did you get your canoe?"

"Steal um," answered the Indian with the utmost complacency.

"Have you been here before?"

"Yes. Injun fish here heap. Injun go fishin' to-morrow."

"Where will you get lines and hooks."

"Me got um."

"Where did you get them?"

"Steal um," answered he again.

"We're going fishing, too," said Sam.

"You got hooks? You got lines? You got bait?"

"No," said Sam.

"Injun get um for you."

"How?"

"Steal um."

"No," said Sam, "you mustn't steal for us. I'll go to Pensacola and buy what I want. But you may go with us, if you will, and show us where to fish."

"Me go. Injun show you,—down there," pointing down the bay, "heap fish there."

The Indian, Sam was disposed to think, was a valuable acquisition, although he was not disposed to trust him with a knowledge of the real nature of his mission. Warning the boys, therefore, not to reveal the secret, he admitted the Indian, whose name was Thlucco, to his company, not as a member, but as a sort of guide.

The next morning the boat went down the bay to the town, where Sam stopped to purchase certain necessary supplies, chiefly fishing tackle and the materials for making a sail, and to take observations.

He found many British officers and soldiers lounging around the town, and had no difficulty in discovering that they were made heartily welcome by the Spanish authorities, notwithstanding the professed neutrality of Spain. It was clear enough that while the Spaniards were at peace with us, they were permitting our enemy to make their territory his base of supplies, and a convenient starting point of military and naval operations against us. All this was in violation of every law of neutrality, and it fully justified Jackson in invading Florida, and driving the British out of Pensacola, as he did, not very long afterward.

Sam "pottered around," as he expressed it, making his purchases as deliberately as possible, and neglecting no opportunity to learn what he could, with eyes and ears wide open.

In an open square he saw a sight which astonished him not a little. Captain Woodbine, a British officer in full uniform, was endeavoring to drill a band of Indians, whom he had dressed in red coats and trowsers. A more ridiculous performance was never seen anywhere, and only an officer like Captain Woodbine, who knew absolutely nothing of the habits and character of the American Indian, would ever have thought of attempting to make regularly drilled and uniformed soldiers out of men of that race. They were excellent fighters, in their own savage way, but no amount of drilling could turn them into soldiers of the civilized pattern.

It was a cruel, inhuman thing to think of setting these savages against the Americans at all, for their notion of war was simply to murder men, women and children indiscriminately, and to burn houses and take scalps; but to try to make soldiers out of them was in a high degree ridiculous, and Sam could scarcely restrain his disposition to laugh aloud, as he saw them floundering about in trowsers for the first time in their lives and trying to make out what it all meant.

Thlucco, wrapped in his blanket, bare-headed and bare-footed, looked at the performance with an expression of profound contempt on his face.

"Red-coat-big-hat-white man big fool!" was the only comment he had to make upon Captain Woodbine and his drill.

Having bought what he wanted, and learned what he could, Sam returned to his boat, and paddled down the bay to a point not far from Fort Barrancas. Here he established his fishing camp, and began work upon his rudder, mast and sail. Before the evening was over he had his boat ready for sea, and was prepared to begin the work of fishing the next morning. He had news for General Jackson; and before going to sleep he wrote his first despatch.



CHAPTER XVIII.

"INJUN NO FOOL."

Sam's despatch, written by the light of a few pine knots and with as much care as if it had been an important state paper,—for whatever Sam Hardwicke did he tried to do well,—was in these words:—

TO MAJOR GENERAL JACKSON,

Commanding Department of the South-West,

MOBILE, ALABAMA.

GENERAL:

I arrived with my party to-day. In Pensacola, I found the British hospitably entertained, not only by the people, but by Governor Mauriquez himself. They are actually enlisting the savages in their service, arming them with rifles and knives and attempting to make regular soldiers out of them. I saw a British captain drilling about fifty Indians in the public square of the town at noon to-day.

I beg to report, also, that the British occupy the defensive works of the town, including Fort Barrancas, from the flagstaffs of which float both the British and the Spanish ensigns, as if the two were allies in this war.

I am unable to report as yet what the strength of the British force here is. I have observed men from seven different companies, in the streets, but have been unable to learn, without direct inquiry, which would excite suspicion, whether all these companies are present in full strength, or whether there are also others here.

The ships in the bay, so far as I can make them out, are the Hermes, Captain Percy, 22 guns; the Sophia, Captain Lockyer, 18 guns; the Carron, 20 guns; and the Childers, 18 guns.

I shall diligently seek to discover the plans and purposes of the expedition, and will not neglect to report to you promptly, whatever I may be able to find out. At present it is evident only that an expedition is fitting out here against some point on our coast.

I shall send this by a trusty messenger at daybreak.

All of which is respectfully submitted.

(Signed,)

SAMUEL HARDWICKE,

Commanding Scouting Party.

This document was duly dated from "Fishing Camp, Five miles below Pensacola," and when it was written, Sam quietly waked Bob Sharp.

"Bob," he said, "I have an important duty for you to do."

"I'm your man, Sam, for anything that turns up."

"Yes, I know that," replied Sam, "and that is why I picked you out for this business. The choice lay between you and Sid Russell, and I chose you, because I shall need a very rapid walker a little later to carry a still more important despatch, I fancy."

"It's a despatch, then," said Bob.

"Yes, a despatch to General Jackson. You'll find him at Mobile, and it isn't more than sixty or seventy miles across the country. I bought three compasses in Pensacola to-day, and you can take one of them with you. I can't give you my map, but I'll copy it for you on a sheet of paper. Go to bed now, and be ready to start at daylight. I'll cook up some food for you, so that you needn't stop on the way to do any cooking. You must make the distance in the shortest time you can!"

"After delivering the despatch, then what?" asked Bob.

"Well, if you want to, you can come back here."

"Of course I want to," said Bob.

"But you must rest first, and I'm not at all sure that you'll find us here. Perhaps you'd better wait in Mobile, at least till my next despatch comes. Then General Jackson will tell you what to do."

"If you'll just give me permission to start right back, I'll be here in a week. I kin make twenty-five miles a day, easy, an' that'll more 'n git me back here in that time."

"Very well, come back then."

At daylight Bob was off, and when the boys awoke they were full of curiosity to know the meaning of his absence. While Thlucco was around Sam would tell them nothing except that he had sent Bob away on an errand. When Thlucco went to the boat to arrange something about the fishing tackle, Sam briefly explained the matter, and cautioned the boys to talk of it no more.

An hour later they went fishing on a slack tide, and when it turned and began to run too full for the fish to bite they sailed their boat to the shore, with fish enough in it to satisfy the most eager of fishermen.

During the afternoon Sam sent Sid Russell, into the town, nominally to buy some trifling thing but really with secret instructions to find out what he could about the British forces, their movements, their purposes and their plans.

"Injun go town, too," said Thlucco, and without more ado "Injun" went.

When he returned, about ten o'clock that night, he brought with him a gun of superior workmanship, and a pouch full of ammunition.

"Where did you get that?" asked Sam in surprise.

"Pensacola," said the young savage.

"How?"

"Injun 'list. Big-hat-red-coat-white man give Injun gun, drill Injun."

"What in the world did you do that for?" asked Sam.

"Um. Injun got eyes. Sam got no guns. Sam need um. Injun git um. Injun 'list agin. Big-hat-red-coat-white man give Injun 'nother gun. Injun 'list six, seven times, git guns for boys."

"But we don't want any guns, Thlucco."

"Um. Injun no fool. Sam Jackson man. Injun know. Sam Jackson man. Boys Jackson men. Sam find out things, boys go tell Jackson. Bob go first. Um. Injun no fool. Injun Jackson man. Injun git guns, heap."

"But what can we do with them when you get them, Thlucco?"

"Um. Injun no fool. May be red coat men spy Sam. Sam caught. Sam want guns. Um. Injun no fool."

Sam saw that it was useless to prolong the conversation. Thlucco was stolidly bent upon doing as he pleased, and the only thing for Sam to do was to take care to conceal the guns from the observation of anybody who might happen to visit the camp.

Thlucco went to town every day and enlisted anew, only to desert with his gun each time. Finally he enlisted twice in one day, and the next day three times, bringing to Sam a gun for each enlistment. By the end of the week Sam had an armory of ten new rifles, with a store of ammunition for each. Thlucco could not count very well, and it required a good deal of persuasion on Sam's part to induce him to stop enlisting. He was persuaded at last, however, that there were more than enough guns in camp to arm the whole party, and then he consented to remain away from the town.

On the evening of the sixth day of their stay in the fishing camp, the boys were just sitting down to their supper of fried fish, when a familiar voice said:—

"I think you might make room for me."

"Bob Sharp back again, as sure's we're here!" exclaimed Billy Bowlegs, and all the boys rose hastily to greet their comrade.



CHAPTER XIX.

SAM SEEKS INFORMATION IN THE DARK.

"Why, Bob, old fellow, how are you?"

"You don't mean to say you've got back agin?"

"How'd you find it in the woods?"

These and a dozen other questions were asked while poor Bob's hand was wrung nearly off.

"Now, see here," said Bob, "I can't answer a dozen questions at once. Besides, I've got despatches for the Captain."

"Have you?" asked Sam. "Let me have them, then."

Bob handed Sam an official looking document, which was merely an acknowledgment of his service, a request that he should not abate his diligence, and an instruction to use his own discretion in the conduct of his expedition. Then followed questions and answers innumerable, and the boys learned that General Jackson was in Mobile, without an army, and likely to be without one until the Tennessee volunteers should arrive.

Supper over, Sam quietly informed the boys that he was going into the town, and that he could not say when he should return.

"What're you a goin' to town this time o' night for?" asked Sid Russell, who was strongly prejudiced against staying awake a moment later than was necessary after the sun went down.

"I've laid some plans to get some information," replied Sam, "and I'm going after it," and with that he jumped into the boat, with only Tom for company. In truth, Sam had been in search of the information that he was going after for several days, and he had reason to hope that he might get it on this particular night.

He had already learned that several of the British vessels, now lying in the bay, had sailed away some little time before, and that they had returned on the night before Bob's arrival. He knew that their voyage must have had some connection with the plans they had laid for operations against the American coast, and he thought if he could discover the nature and purpose of this recent expedition, it would give him a clew to their projects for the future. To accomplish this he had taken many risks while the ships were away, and he was now going to try a new way of getting at facts.

He sailed his boat up to the town, and before landing, said to Tom:—

"When I'm ashore, you put off a little way from land and lie-to for an hour or so. When I want you, I'll come down here to the water's edge and whistle like a Whip-Will's Widow. When you hear me, run ashore. If I don't come by midnight, go back to camp, and march at once for Mobile."

"Why can't I lie here by the shore till you come. You're going into danger and may need me."

"First, because there are ruffians around here who might put you ashore and steal the boat; but secondly, because I don't want to excite suspicion by having our boat seen around here at night. It's so dark that nobody can recognize her if you lie-to a hundred yards from shore. I'm going into danger, but you can't help me."

Avoiding further parley, Sam jumped ashore, and walked quietly up into the town, through the main street, until he came to a house built after the Spanish model, with a rickety stair-way outside. Up this stair-way he climbed, and when he had reached the top he pushed the door open and entered. He found himself in a dark passage, but by feeling he presently discovered a door. As he opened it he said:—

"It's a dark night."

"Is it dark?" answered a voice from within.

"It is very dark."

All this appeared to be merely a pre-arranged signal, for it had no sooner been uttered than the owner of the voice within, who seemed satisfied of Sam's identity, struck a light, with flint and steel, and carefully closed the door.

The man was apparently a dark mulatto, and his hair was matted about his head as if with some glutinous substance.

"You sent me this note?" asked Sam.

"Yes, I gave it to the Injun. He said you'd help me."

There was a brogue in the man's voice, very slight,—too slight, indeed, to be represented in print,—and yet it was perceptible, and it attracted Sam's attention. Perhaps he would scarcely have noticed it but for the fact that all his senses were keenly on the alert. He was not at all sure that he was acting prudently in visiting this man. He had no knowledge whatever of the man, except that Thlucco had somehow found him and arranged a meeting. Thlucco had brought Sam a scrap of dirty paper, on which were traced in a scarcely legible scrawl, these words:—

"Your man must say, 'It's a dark night!' I'll say, 'Is it dark.' We will know each other then."

In delivering this note, with directions as to the method of finding the man, Thlucco had said:—

"Injun no fool. Injun know m'latter man. M'latter man tell Sam heap. Sam take m'latter man way."

By diligent questioning, Sam had made out that this man had knowledge of affairs in the British camp which he was willing to sell for some service that Sam could do him.

Sam was not sure of Thlucco. His knowledge of the Indian character did not predispose him to trust Indian professions of friendship, and he strongly suspected treachery of some sort here. He thought it possible that this was only a scheme to entrap his secret and himself, and he had gone to the conference determined to be on his guard, and in the event of trouble, to use the stout cudgel which he carried as vigorously as possible.

"If we are to talk," he said to the man, "you must come with me."

The man hesitated, afraid, apparently, of treachery.

"I do not know you," he said, "and the Indian may have lied."

"Listen to me," said Sam in reply, "I do not know you, and the Indian may have lied to me. Yet I have trusted myself here in the dark. You must trust something to me. Go with me, and when we have talked together for an hour, if you wish to return here, I pledge you my word of honor, as a gentleman's son, to bring you back safely. If you will not go with me, we may as well part at once. I positively will not say another word, I'm going. Follow me in silence, or stay here, as you please."

With that Sam opened the door and walked out. The man quickly extinguished the light and crept after Sam, in his bare feet.

Sam led the way by a route just outside the town, without exchanging a word with his companion. Half an hour's walking brought them to the lonely strip of beach on which Sam had landed.

"Whip-Will's Widow," whistled Sam, shrilly.

His companion started back in affright, and was on the point of running away, when Sam seized him by the arm, and, shaking him vigorously, said:—

"I'll not play you false. Trust me. I have a boat here."

"You come from the Fort?" said the man in abject terror.

"No, I do not. I am an American," said Sam, no longer hesitating to reveal his nationality, now that he saw how terrified the man was at thought of falling into British hands.

The words re-assured the man, and when Tom came ashore with the boat he embarked without further hesitation.

"Beat about, Tom," said Sam, "I may have to land again. I have promised this man to return him safely to the place in which I found him, if we don't come to some agreement. Sail around here while we talk."

Turning to the man, he said:—

"Let us talk in a low voice. Who are you, and what?"

"I'm a deserter from the marine corps."

"British?"

"Yes. I'm an Irishman. I've blacked my hair and skin, that's all."

"When did you desert?"

"Yesterday. I was to be flogged for insubordination, and I jist run away."

"Were you with the late expedition?"

"Yes."

"Very well. I think we can come to an understanding. You want to get away, out of reach of capture?"

"Sure I do. If I'm caught, I'll be shot without mercy."

"Very well. Now if you'll tell me everything you know, I'll help you to get away. More than that, I'll get you away, within our own lines. I have the means at my command."

"Faith an' I'll tell you everything I ever know'd in my life, if you'll only get me out of this."

The man was now in precisely the mood in which Sam wished to have him. He had already confessed his desertion, and had now every reason to speak freely and truly, and it was evident that he meant to do so.

"Tom," said Sam.

"Well," replied Tom.

"You may beat up toward our camp, now."

"And you'll save me?" asked the man, seizing Sam's hand and wringing it.

"I will. Now let's come to business."

"I'm ready," answered the man.

"Where did the ships go?"

"To the Island of Barrataria."

"To treat with Jean Lafitte, the pirate?" exclaimed Sam.

"Yes, to enlist him and his cut-throats in the war against you."

"Did they succeed?"

"I don't know. The officers dined with Lafitte, and treated him like a prince. They came away in good spirits, and must have succeeded, else they'd a' been glum enough."

"What do they propose to do next?"

"They're a goin' to sail again in a few days, and the boys say it's for Mobile this time. The men had orders yesterday to get ready."

"What preparation are they making?"

"They're storing the ships and taking water aboard. The marines are kept in quarters on shore, and a lot o' them red savages is in camp at the fort, with Captain Woodbine in command."

"Well, now," said Sam, "tell me why you think the next movement will be against Mobile? May it not be New Orleans instead?"

"Well, you see them pirates is wanted for the New Orleans work. They know all the channels, and have got the pilots. When the fleet starts for New Orleans some o' them 'll be on board. Besides, the officers talk over their rum, and the men hear 'em, an' all the talk is about Mobile, and Mobile Point, whatever that is; so its pretty sure they're going to Mobile first."[2]

[Footnote 2: It is scarcely necessary to tell readers who are familiar with American History, that Jean Lafitte was not properly a pirate, although he was called so in 1814; nor is it necessary to tell here how the British attempt to use his lawless band against the Americans miscarried. All that belongs to the domain of legitimate history.]

By this time the boat, which was running under a good stiff breeze, ran upon the beach by Sam's camp, and Sam led the way to the dying camp fire, which he replenished, for the sake of the light. Then getting his writing materials he prepared a despatch to General Jackson. It ran as follows:—

CAMP NEAR PENSACOLA,

September 8th, 1814.

TO MAJOR-GENERAL JACKSON,

Commanding Department of the South-West.

GENERAL:—

I beg to report that several of the British vessels of war now lying at anchor in the harbor of Pensacola, have just returned from a brief voyage, the object and nature of which I have endeavored to discover. I have succeeded in finding a deserter from the British marine corps, from whom, under promise of protection, I have drawn such information as he possesses. He accompanied the late expedition, and tells me that it went to the Island of Barrataria, to seek the assistance of Jean Lafitte, the pirate, and his gang of outlaws, against the United States. Whether the negotiations to that end were successful or not, he does not know, but he supposes, from the temper in which the officers returned, that they were.

From this deserter I learn, also, that preparations are making for a hostile movement, which the British marines and soldiers believe, from the remarks made by officers in their presence, is to be directed against Mobile by way of Mobile Point, which I take to be the point of land which guards the entrance to Mobile bay, where Fort Bowyer stands.

I send the deserter with the messenger who takes this to you, partly because I have promised to secure him against recapture, and partly because you may desire to question him further.

There are no present appearances of the immediate sailing of this expedition, but from what the deserter tells me, I presume that it will sail within a few days. I shall remain here still, to get what information I can, and will report to you promptly whatever I learn. I cannot say how long I shall be able to stay, as a British officer visited my camp yesterday, and questioned my boys, as I thought, rather suspiciously. I shall be on the alert, and take no unnecessary risk of capture.

All of which is respectfully submitted.

SAMUEL HARDWICKE,

Commanding Scouting Party.



CHAPTER XX.

A SUSPICIOUS OCCURRENCE.

When Sam had finished his despatch he quietly aroused Bob Sharp and Sidney Russell, and entered into conversation with them.

"Sid," he said, "I have a prisoner and a despatch of very great importance to send to General Jackson. You must take the despatch and leave as soon as possible, with the prisoner, who is a deserter and who must be got away from here before daylight. Bob, I want you to give Sid as good directions as you can, as you've been over the route twice."

"Yes an' I've sort o' blazed it too, and picked out all sorts o' land-marks to steer by, but I don't knows I can make any body else understand 'em. Are you in a big hurry with the despatch?"

"Yes, the biggest kind. It's of the utmost importance, and time is every thing. A single hour lost may lose Mobile or a battle."

"Then maybe Sid an' me'd both better go,—Sid to do the fast running an' me to show him the way."

"There's no use of both of you going," replied Sam, "but if you had had a couple of days rest I would send you instead of Sid, because you know the way, and I don't believe anybody can make the distance any quicker than you have done it."

"I know a feller that kin," replied Bob.

"Who is it?" asked Sam.

"Me."

"You? How do you mean?"

"I mean that I kin go to Mobile most a day quicker 'n I dun it before. I got into a lot o' tangles before that I know how to keep out of now."

"Yes, but you can't start back again without at least a day's rest."

"Can't I though? I'm as fresh as an Irish potato without salt, an' if you just say the word, I'll be off the minute you git your papers ready. The boys have got somethin' cooked I reckon."

Sam complimented Bob upon his vigor and readiness, and accepted his offer. Ten minutes sufficed for all necessary preparations, and Bob was about starting with his prisoner, when Sid Russell spoke.

"I say, Sam, did you say this 'ere feller's a deserter?"

"Yes. What of it?"

"Nothing only there's a camp o' British an' Injuns back there a little ways, an' if Bob don't look out he'll run right into it."

"A camp? Where?" asked Sam.

"Right in rear of us, not three hundred yards away."

"When was it established there?"

"To-night, just after you went away in the boat."

"All right," replied Sam. "Jump into the boat, Bob, and we'll sail down below and you can start from there."

It was easy enough to carry Bob and the deserter down to a point below the camp, but Sam was not at all pleased to find the British so near him. He feared already that he was suspected, and he was not sure that this placing of troops near him was not a preparation for something else. At all events, it was very embarrassing, for the reason that it would prevent him from withdrawing his party suddenly to the woods on their retreat, if anything should happen, and this made Sam uneasy. He returned to camp, after parting with Bob and the deserter, and sat for an hour revolving matters in his mind.

At first he was disposed to wake the boys and quietly withdraw by water to a point lower down, but upon reflection he was convinced that his removal by night immediately after the troops had been stationed near him, would only tend to excite suspicion. He thought, too, that he must have been wrong in supposing that the camp had been established in rear of him with any reference to him or his party.

"If they suspected us in the least, they would arrest us without waiting to make sure of their suspicions," he thought; nevertheless, it was awkward to be shut in and cut off from the easy retreat which he had planned, as a means of escape, in the event of necessity, and he determined to seek an excuse for removing within a day or two from his present camping place to one which would leave him freer in his movements. He was so troubled that he could not sleep, and the flickering blaze of the dying camp fire annoyed him. He got up, therefore, from his seat on a log and went to the boat and sat down in the stern sheets to think.

He had no fear of danger for himself, or rather, he was prepared to encounter, without flinching, any danger into which his duty might lead him; but I have not succeeded very well in making my readers acquainted with Sam Hardwicke's character, if they do not know that he was a thoroughly conscientious boy, and from the beginning of this expedition until now, he had never once forgotten that his authority, as its commander, involved with it a heavy responsibility.

"These boys," he frequently said to himself, "are subject to my command. They must go where I lead them, and have no chance to use their own judgments. I decide where they shall go and what they shall do, and I am responsible for the consequences to them."

Feeling his responsibility thus deeply, he was troubled now lest any mistake of his should lead them into unnecessary danger. He carefully weighed every circumstance which could possibly affect his decision, and his judgment was that his duty required him to remain yet a day or two in the neighborhood of Pensacola, and that it would only tend to awaken suspicion if he should remove his camp to any other point on the shores of the bay. He must stay where he was, and risk the consequences. If ill should befall the boys it would be an unavoidable ill, incurred in the discharge of duty, and he would have no reason, he thought, to reproach himself.

Just as he reached this conclusion, Thlucco came from somewhere out of the darkness, and stepping into the boat took a seat just in front of Sam, facing him.

"Why, Thlucco," exclaimed Sam, "where did you come from?"

"Sh—sh—," said Thlucco. "Injun know. Injun no fool. Injun want Sam."

"What do you want with Sam?"

"Sam git caught! Injun no fool. Injun see."

"What do you mean, Thlucco? Speak out. If there is any danger, I want to know it."

"Ugh! Injun know Jake Elliott!"

"What about Jake?" asked Sam.

"Um, Jake Elliott devil. Jake hate Sam. Jake hate General Jackson. Injun no fool. Injun see."

Sam was interested now, but it was not easy to draw anything like detailed information out of Thlucco.

"What makes you think that, Thlucco? What have you seen or heard?"

"Um. Injun see. Injun know. Injun no fool. Jake cuss Sam. Jake cuss Jackson. Injun hear."

"When did you hear him curse me or General Jackson, Thlucco?" asked Sam.

"Um. To-day! 'Nother day, too! 'Nother day 'fore that."

"What did he say?"

"Um. Jake cuss. Um. Jake gone."

"What!" exclaimed Sam. "Gone! where?"

"Um. Injun don't know. Injun know Jake gone."

"When did he leave camp?"

"Um. When Sam go 'way Jake go too! Injun follow Jake. Jake cuss Injun. Injun come back."

"Is that all you know, Thlucco?"

"Um. That's all. That's 'nough. Jake gone 'way."

Sam jumped out of the boat and waked the boys.

"Where did Jake Elliott go to-night?" he asked.

None of the boys knew.

"Did any one of you see him leave camp?"

"Yes," answered Billy Bowlegs, "but we didn't pay much attention to him. He's been so glum lately that we've been glad to have him out of sight."

"Has he ever gone away before?" asked Sam.

"No, only he never stays right in camp. He sleeps over there by them trees," said Billy Bowlegs, pointing to a clump of trees about forty or fifty yards away, "an' I guess he's only gone over there. He never stays with us when you're not here."

Sam strode over to the trees indicated, and searched carefully, but could find no trace of Jake there. Returning to the camp he asked:—

"Did any of you observe which way he went when he went away?"

"Yes," answered Sid Russell, "he went toward his trees."

"That is toward the town," answered Sam.

"Yes, so it is."

"Have you observed anything peculiar about his conduct lately?"

"No," replied Billy Bowlegs, "only that he's been a gettin' glummer an' glummer. I'll tell you what it is, Captain Sam, I'll bet a big button he's deserted an' gone home. He's a coward and he's been scared ever since he found out that you wa'n't foolin' about this bein' a genu-ine, dangerous piece of work, an' I'll bet he's cut his lucky, an' gone home, an' if ever I get back there I'll pull his nose for a sneak, you just see if I don't."

"Very well," said Sam, "go to sleep again, then. If he has gone home it is a good riddance of very bad rubbish."

Sam was not by any means satisfied that Jake had gone home, however. Indeed he was pretty well convinced that he had done nothing of the sort, and he wished for a chance to think, so that he might determine what was best to be done. He believed Jake would not dare to go home as a deserter, knowing very well what reputation he would have to bear ever afterward, in a community in which personal courage was held to be the first of the virtues, and the lack of it the worst possible vice. Where had he gone, then, and for what? Sam did not know, but he had an opinion on the subject which grew stronger and stronger the more he revolved the matter in his mind.

Jake Elliott, he knew, had a personal grudge against him, and no very kindly feeling for the other boys. He was confessedly afraid to continue in the service in which he was engaged, and it was not easy for him to quit it. There was just one safe way out of it; and that offered, not safety only, but revenge of precisely the kind that Jake Elliott was likely to take. Sam knew very well that, notwithstanding his magnanimity, Jake still bitterly hated him, and still cherished the design of wreaking his vengeance upon him at the first opportunity.

"What is more probable, then," he asked himself, "than that Jake is trying to betray us into the hands of the enemy to die as spies? He is abundantly capable of the treachery and the meanness, and his desertion of the camp to-night strongly confirms the suspicion."

This much being decided, it was necessary for Sam to determine what should be done in the circumstances. If there had been no camp in his rear, he would have withdrawn his command through the woods at once. As it was, he must find some other way. It was clearly his duty to escape with his boys, if he could, and to lose no time in attempting it. The danger was now too near at hand, and too positive to be ignored, and there was really very little more for him to do here. He must escape at once.

But could he escape?

That was a question which the event would have to answer, as Sam could not do it. Unluckily, it was already beginning to grow light, and he would not have the shelter of darkness.

He aroused the boys again, before they had had time to get to sleep, and quietly began his preparations.

"Make no noise," he said, "but put what provisions you have, and all your things into the boat. Don't forget the guns and the ammunition. Sid! take our little water keg and run and fill it with fresh water."

The boys set about their preparations hurriedly, although they but dimly guessed the meaning of Sam's singular orders.

At that moment Jake Elliott shuffled into the camp.



CHAPTER XXI.

JAKE ELLIOTT MAKES ANOTHER EFFORT TO GET EVEN.

As it is impossible to tell at one time the story of the doings of two different sets of persons in two different places, it follows that, if both are to be told, one must be told first and the other afterward.

For precisely this reason, I must leave Sam and his party for a time now, while I tell where Jake Elliott had been, and what he had been about.

When Sam let him off as easily as he could at the time of the compass affair, and even went out of his way to prevent the boys from referring to that transaction, he did so with the distinct purpose of giving Jake an opportunity and a motive to redeem his reputation; and he sincerely hoped that Jake would avail himself of the chance.

It is not easy for a man or boy of right impulses to imagine the feelings, or to comprehend the acts of a person whose impulses are all wrong, and so it was that Sam fell into the error of supposing that his badly behaved follower would repent of his misconduct and do better in future. This was what all the boys thought that Jake ought to do, and what Sam thought he would do; but in truth he was disposed to do nothing of the sort, and Sam was not very long in discovering the fact. Instead of feeling grateful to Sam for shielding him against the taunts of his companions, he hated Sam more cordially than ever, when he found how completely he had failed in his attempt to embarrass the expedition. He nursed his malice and brooded over it, determined to seize the first opportunity of "getting even," as he expressed it, and from that hour his thoughts were all of revenge, complete, successful, merciless. He was willing enough, too, to include the other boys in this wreaking of vengeance, as he included them now in his malice.

His first attempt to accomplish his purpose, as we know already, was an effort to wreck the boat in a drift pile, and that affair served to open Sam's eyes to the true character of the boy with whom he had to deal. He trusted him no more, and managed him thereafter only by appeals to his fears.

When the camp was formed near Pensacola, Sam carefully canvassed the possibilities of Jake's misconduct, and concluded that the worst he could do would be to injure the boat or her tackle, and he sufficiently guarded against that by always sleeping near the little craft.

Jake was more desperately bent upon revenge than Sam supposed, and from the hour of going into camp he diligently worked over his plan for accomplishing his purpose. He had learned by previous failures, to dread Sam's quickness of perception, of which, indeed, he stood almost superstitiously in awe. He would not venture to take a single step toward the accomplishment of the end he had set himself, until his plans should be mature. For many days, therefore, he only meditated revenge not daring, as yet, to attempt it by any active measures. At last, however, he was satisfied that his plans were beyond Sam's power to penetrate, and he was ready to put them into execution. On the night of Bob Sharp's return, which was the night last described in previous chapters, Sam went to the town, as we know, accompanied by Tom, who sailed the boat. As soon as he was fairly out of sight Jake walked away toward Pensacola. The distance was considerable, and the way a very difficult one, as the tide was too high for walking on the beach, so that it was nearly midnight when Jake knocked at a house on a side street.

"Who is there?" asked a night-capped personage from an upper window.

"A friend," answered Jake.

"What do you want?" said the night-capped head, rather gruffly.

"I want to see the Leftenant."

"What do you want with me?"

"I want to talk with you."

"Oh, go to the mischief! I'm in bed."

"But I must see you to-night," said Jake.

"On business?"

"Yes, sir."

"Important?"

"Yes."

"Won't it keep till morning?"

"No, sir; I'm afraid not."

"Very well. I suppose I must see you then. Push the door open and find your way up the stairs."

Jake did as he was told to do, and presently found himself in the room where Lieutenant Coxetter had been sleeping. That distinguished servant of His Majesty, King George, had meantime drawn on his trowsers, and he now lighted a little oil lamp, which threw a wretched apology for light a few feet into the surrounding darkness.

"Now then," said the officer, in no very pleasant tones, "What do you want with me at this time o' night? Who are you, and where do you come from?"

Jake was so nervous that he found it impossible to find a place at which to begin his story, and the impatient Lieutenant spurred him with direct questions.

"What's your name?" he asked. "You can tell that, can't you?"

"Yes, sir," faltered Jake.



"Well, tell it then, and be quick about it."

"My name is Jacob Elliott," said that worthy, fairly gasping for breath in his embarrassment.

"Oh! you do know your name, then," said the officer. "Now, then, where do you come from?"

"From Alabama," answered Jake.

"From Alabama! the mischief you do! You're an American then? What the mischief are you doing here?"

"Oh, sir, that's just what I want to tell you about, if you'll let me."

"If I'll let you? Ain't I doing my very best to make you? Havn't I been worming your facts out of you with a corkscrew? But you'd better be quick about giving an account of yourself. If you don't give a pretty satisfactory one, too, I'll arrest you as a spy,—a spy, my good fellow, do you understand? A spy, and we hang that sort o' people. Come, be quick."

"Spies! that's just it, Lieutenant. I came here to-night to tell you about spies."

"Then why the mischief don't you do it? You'll drive me mad with your halting tongue. Speak man, or I'll choke you!" and with that the officer stood up and bent forward over Jake, to that young man's serious discomfiture.

"They's some spies here—" Jake began. "Where?" asked the impatient officer interrupting him.

"Down there, in a camp," said Jake, talking as rapidly as he could, lest the officer should interrupt him again; "Down there in a camp by the bay, an' they've got a boat an' guns, an' they're boys, an' they pretend to be a fishin' party."

"Ah!" said the Lieutenant, "I thought I'd make you find your tongue. Now listen to me, and answer my questions, and mind you don't lie to me, sir; mind you don't lie."

"I won't. I pledge you my honor—," began Jake.

"Never mind pledging that; it isn't worth pledging. You see you're a sneak, else you wouldn't be here telling tales on your fellow countrymen. But never mind. It's my business to make use of you. I'm provost-marshal."

This was not at all the sort of treatment Jake had expected to receive at the hands of British officers. He had supposed that the value of his services in betraying his fellows, would be recognized and rewarded, and he had even dreamed of receiving marked attentions and a good, comfortable, safe place in the British service in recompense. It had never occurred to him that while all military men must get what information they can from deserters, and traitors, they do not respect the sneaking fellows in the least, but on the contrary hold them in profoundest contempt, almost spurning them with their boots. Jake had gone too far to retreat, however, and must now tell his whole story. He told where the boys were, and how they had come there, and for what purpose, lying only enough to make it appear that he himself had never willingly joined them, but had been deceived at first, and forced afterward into the service.

The Lieutenant listened to the story and then asked:—

"Have you anything to show for all this?"

"How do you mean?" asked Jake.

"Why, you wretched coward, don't you understand? How am I to know how much of your story is true, and how much of it false? Of course it isn't all true. You couldn't talk so long without telling some lies. What I want to know is, what can you show for all this story? If I arrest these boys, what can be proved on them?"

"Well, the Captain's got a despatch from General Jackson; that'll prove something."

"When did he get it?"

"To-night."

"Very well. That's something. Now you just sit still till I tell you to do something else."

So saying the Lieutenant summoned a courier or two, and sent them off with notes.

"These boys have a boat, you say?"

"Yes."

"Do they know how to sail it?"

"A little; the Captain handles it better'n the rest."

"Has he ever been to sea?"

"No, sir."

"What sort of a boat is it?"

"A dug-out; we made it ourselves."

"Oh, did you? Why didn't you tell me that first? Never mind, it's all right. They'll never try to put to sea in a dug-out, but they may try to escape to some point lower down the bay in it, so my message to the fort won't be amiss."

The Lieutenant had sent a message to the fort that at daylight he should arrest the party, and that if they should take the alarm and try to escape by water, a boat must be sent from the fort to overhaul them.

He now dressed himself, first sending for a file of soldiers under a sergeant, with instructions to parade at his door immediately.

When all was ready he said to Jake.

"Now then, young man, come with me, and guide me to the camp of these lads."

Jake led the way, and when a little after daylight they approached the camp the Lieutenant said to him:—

"I don't want to make any mistake in this business. You go ahead to the camp and see if the lads are there. That'll throw 'em off their guard, and I'll come up in five minutes."

"But Lieu—" began Jake, remonstratingly.

"Hold your tongue, and do as I tell you, or I'll string you up to a tree, you rascal."

Thus admonished, Jake walked on in fear and trembling to the camp. As he approached it he observed the unusual stir which was going on, and wondered what it meant, but he did not for a moment imagine that Sam had guessed the truth.



CHAPTER XXII.

THE SEA FIGHT.

When Jake entered the camp it was fairly light, and as Sam looked at him he caught a glimpse of the file of soldiers in the thicket, three or four hundred yards away.

He knew what it meant.

"We're about to leave this place, Jake," said Sam, as the boys stowed the last of their things in the boat, "we're about to leave this place, and you're just in time. Get in."

"Well, but where—" began the culprit.

"Get in," interrupted Sam, who stood with one of the rifles in his hands.

Jake hesitated, and was indeed upon the point of running away, when Sam, placing the muzzle of his gun almost against Jake's breast, said:—

"Get into the boat instantly, or I'll let daylight through you, sir."

There was no help for it, and Jake obeyed.

Sam quickly cast the boat loose, and as he did so, the Lieutenant discovered his purpose, and started his men at a full run toward the camp.

Sam pushed the boat off and, taking his place in the stern, took the helm.

"Hoist the sail, quick!" he said; and the sail went up in a moment. A strong breeze was blowing and the sail quickly bellied in the wind.

"Lie down, every man of you," cried Sam, but without setting the example. A moment later a shower of bullets whistled around his ears. He had seen that the soldiers were about to fire upon him, and had ordered his companions to lie down, confident that the thick solid sides of the boat would pretty effectually protect them.

As for himself, he must take the chances and navigate his boat. The soldiers were not move than fifty yards from him when they fired but luckily they failed to hit him.

"Now for a run!" he exclaimed. "Before they can load again, I'll be out of range, or pretty nearly."

The breeze was very fresh, almost high, and as the boat got out from under the lee of the shore timber, she heeled over upon one side, and sped rapidly through the water. The Lieutenant made his men fire again, but the distance was now so great that their bullets flew wide of the mark.

"We're off boys at last. Look out for Jake Elliott and don't let him jump overboard, or he'll swim ashore. He is a prisoner."

"Is he? what for?" asked Billy Bowlegs.

"For betraying us to the British."

At this moment a boat pushed out from the dock at the fort, and Sid Russell, who was Sam's most efficient lieutenant, and was scanning the whole bay for indications of pursuit, cried:

"There goes a row boat out from the fort, Sam, an' they's soldiers on board 'n her. I see their guns."

"Arm yourselves, boys," was Sam's reply. "I want to say a word first. Jake Elliott has betrayed us to these people, and they are trying to arrest us. If they catch us, we shall be treated as spies; that is to say, we shall be hanged to the most convenient tree. I believe we're all the sons of brave men, and ready to die, if we must, but I, for one, don't mean to die like a dog, and for that reason I'll never be taken alive."

"Nor me," "nor me," "nor me," answered the boys, neglectful of grammar, but very much in earnest.

"Very well, then," replied Sam. "It is understood that we're not going to surrender, whatever happens."

"It's agreed," answered every boy there except the wretched prisoner, who was no longer counted one of them.

"That boat has no sail," said Sam, "and she's got half a mile to row through rough water before she crosses our track half a mile ahead. I think I can give her the slip. If I can't we'll fight it out, right here in the boat. Now, then, one cheer for the American flag!" and as he said it, Sam drew forth a little flag which he had carried in all his wanderings, for use if he should need it, and ran it up to his mast head by a rude halyard which he had arranged in anticipation of some such adventure as this.

The boys gave the cheer from the bottom of their broad chests, and every one took the place which Sam assigned him, with gun in hand. Meantime Sam tacked the boat in such a way as to throw the point of meeting between her and the British boat as far from the fort as possible. It was very doubtful whether he could pass that point before the row boat, propelled by six oars in the hands of skilled oarsmen, should reach it. If not, there remained only the alternative of "fighting it out."

"Reserve your fire, boys, till I tell you to shoot. There are only six armed men in that boat. If they shoot, lie down behind the gunwale. You mustn't shoot till we come to close quarters. Then take good aim, and make your fire tell. A single wasted bullet may cost us our lives. Above all, keep perfectly cool. We've work to do that needs coolness as well as determination."

The boats drew rapidly nearer and nearer the point of meeting, and Sam saw that he would succeed in passing it first, but narrowly, he thought.

"We'll beat them, boys," he said. "The sea is rough, and they can't do much at long range, and they won't get more than one shot close to us." At that moment the men in the British boat fired a volley, after the manner which was in vogue with British troops at that day. The two boats were not a hundred yards apart, but the roughness of the water, on which the row boat bobbed about like a cork, rendered the volley ineffective.

"They're good soldiers with an idiot commanding them," said Sam.

"Why?" asked Tom, who was very coolly studying the situation.

"Because he made them fire too soon," replied Sam, "and we can slip by now while they're loading. Don't shoot, Joe!" he exclaimed to the black boy who was manifestly on the point of doing so. "Don't shoot, we've got the best of them now; we are past them and making the distance greater every second. Give them a cheer to take home with them. Hurrah!"

It was raining now, and the wind was blowing a gale, so that Sam's boat was running at a speed which made pursuit utterly hopeless. The British soldiers fired three or four scattering shots, and then cheered in their turn, in recognition of the admirable skill and courage with which their young adversary had eluded them.

Sam's escape was not made yet, however. A war ship lay below, and her commander seeing the chase, and the firing in the bay, manned a light boat with marines, and sent her out to intercept Sam's craft, without very clearly understanding the situation or its meaning.

Sam saw this boat put off from the ship, and knew in an instant what it meant. He saw, too, that he had no chance to slip by it as he had done by the other, as it was already very near to him, and almost in his track.

"Now, boys," he said very calmly, "we've got to fight. There's no chance to slip by that boat, and we've got to whip her in a fair fight, or get whipped. Keep your wits about you, and listen for orders. Cover your gun pans to keep your priming dry. Here, Tom, take the tiller. I must go to the bow."

Tom took the helm, and as he did so Sam said to him:—

"Keep straight ahead till I give you orders to change your course, and then do it instantly, no matter what happens. I've an idea that I know how to manage this affair now. You have only to listen for orders, and obey them promptly."

"I'll do what you order, no matter what it is," said Tom, and Sam went at once to the bow of his boat.

His boys were crouching down on their knees to keep themselves as steady as they could, and their guns, which they were protecting from the rain, were not visible to the men in the other boat, who were astonished to find that they had, as they supposed, only to arrest a boat's crew of unarmed boys.

The boats were now within a stone's throw of each other, the English boat lying a little to the left of Sam's track, but the officer in command of it, supposing that the party would surrender at the word of command, ordered his men not to open fire.

"They's a mighty heap on 'em for sich a little boat," whispered Sid Russell.

"So much the better," said Sam. "They're badly crowded."

Then, turning to his companions, he said:—

"Lie down, quick, they'll fire in a moment."

The boys could see no indication of any such purpose on the part of the British marines, but Sam knew what he was about and he knew that his next order to his boys would draw a volley upon them.

Turning to Tom, and straightening himself up to his full height, while the British officer was loudly calling to him to lie to and surrender, Sam cried out:

"Jam your helm down to larboard, Tom, quick and hard, and ram her into 'em!"

Tom was on the point of hesitating, but remembering Sam's previous injunction and his own promise, he did as he was ordered, suddenly changing the boat's course and running her directly toward the British row boat, which was now not a dozen yards away. The speed at which she was going was fearful. The British, seeing the manoeuvre, fired, but wildly, and the next moment Sam's great solid hulk of a boat struck the British craft amidships, crushed in her sides, cut her in two, and literally ran over her.

"Now, bring her back to the wind," cried Sam, "and hold your course."

The boat swung around and was flying before the wind again in a second. Boats were rapidly lowered from the war ship to rescue the struggling marines from the water into which Sam had so unceremoniously thrown them.

"Three cheers for our naval victory, and three more for our commodore!" called out Billy Bowlegs, and the response came quickly.

"It's too soon to cheer," said Sam. "We're not out of the scrape yet."

The next moment a puff of smoke showed itself on the side of the war ship and a shower of grape shot whizzed angrily around the boat. A second and a third discharge followed, and then came solid shot, sixty-four pounders, howling like demons over the boys' heads, and plowing the water all around them. Their speed quickly took them out of range, however, and the firing ceased.