"Wake up, sir," cried Jackson, roughly shaking his superior officer by the shoulder – "Tom Newcombe!"
The second lieutenant knew that the mention of that name would arouse the executive sooner than any thing else.
"Mercy on us!" exclaimed Harry, "you don't say so! Where is he?"
"In his boat, now, and going down the harbor at the rate of ten knots an hour. He has been on board this yacht doing some mischief, of course, and I am expecting every instant to find myself going to the bottom. His pirate crew is with him."
"The Crusoe band!" Harry almost gasped.
"There are several fellows with him, and I don't know who else they can be."
"Call away the jolly-boat, and man her with an armed crew," said Harry. "Mr. Richardson!"
"Here, sir," answered the midshipman, who had just come into the cabin with his boots in one hand, and his coat in the other.
"Take charge of the jolly-boat, pursue those fellows, and capture them, at all hazards, if they can be found. Mr. Jackson, stand by to get the vessel under way immediately."
The second lieutenant sprang up the ladder, followed by the midshipman, and, a few moments afterward, Harry heard the boat's crew scrambling over the side, and the boatswain's whistle calling the men to their stations.
"Am I doomed to live in constant fear of that fellow as long as I remain at the academy?" said the first lieutenant to himself. "What could he have wanted here? I'll have the yacht searched at once, and discover, if I can, what he has been up to."
But the executive soon learned that it was not necessary to search the vessel to find out what Tom Newcombe had been doing, for, just at that moment, he was alarmed by the rapid tolling of the bell, and Jackson burst into the cabin, pale and excited.
"The yacht is on fire, sir!" said he.
Harry, too astonished to speak, hurried on deck, and, to his consternation, saw a dense smoke arising from the fore-hatchway. The students did not grumble now at being called to fire-quarters, for this was not a false alarm; the inside of the galley was a sheet of flames.
CHAPTER II.
SAM BARTON'S HARBORING PLACE
Tom Newcombe seemed to possess, in a remarkable degree, the faculty of creating a disturbance wherever he went, and his re-appearance in the village was the signal for a general commotion. Johnny Harding came in for a share of the trouble, and was the hero of an adventure that gained him an enviable reputation in Newport. In order that the reader may understand how it came about, we must go back and describe some events with which he is not acquainted.
For two weeks after the Spartan sailed with the fisher-boy on board, Tom Newcombe led a most miserable life. His father took especial care that every moment of his time, from eight in the morning until four in the afternoon, should be occupied with some business or another, and, in Tom's estimation, this was the very worst punishment that could be inflicted upon him. In addition to that, the law against going outside the gate after dark was rigidly enforced; and thus Tom was thrown upon his own resources for recreation.
There were few boys in the village he cared to associate with now. He avoided the students, and Johnny Harding and his set, as he would a pestilence; but he was not always successful in his efforts to keep out of their way, for he had a good many errands to do about the village, and at almost every corner he met somebody he did not want to see. Besides, Johnny had taken up his position behind Mr. Henry's counter; and, although he had become a steady, well-behaved boy in other respects, he was as full of mischief as ever, and seemed to take unbounded delight in tormenting Tom. Mr. Henry's store was but a short distance from the office; and as Johnny was constantly running up and down the wharf on business, he met Tom frequently, and never failed to make particular inquiries concerning the welfare of the young ruffians who had composed the Crusoe band.
"Ah, good morning, captain!" he would say, raising his hand to his cap with a military flourish, "how's the governor? and how does the society come on?"
Tom sometimes made an angry reply; but generally he would take to his heels, and as soon as possible get out of hearing of his tormentor. Nine times in ten he did not better himself any; for, while he was running away from Johnny, he would encounter some one else who had something to say about the yacht or the Crusoe band. He was thus kept continually in hot water, and he knew that such would be his condition as long as he remained in the village. There was one way of escape, and that was to do as Johnny Harding had done, when he came home from the memorable expedition of the Night-Hawks. He saw his folly, acknowledged it, and resolved that his future life should make some amends for it. He held to this determination; and was now in a fair way to make a man of himself. Tom, however, did not possess the moral courage to do this. He was one of those boys who are always in the right, and he did not believe that the troubles he had got into were the results of his own misdeeds. He laid the blame upon somebody else – principally upon his father, at whom he was highly enraged. He wanted to get out of the village, and he set his wits at work to conjure up some plan to induce the merchant to send him to sea, or permit him to make another contract with Mr. Hayes; but Mr. Newcombe thought the office was the best place for Tom, and told him so in a manner so decided, that the boy knew that argument was useless.
All this while he had been busy with his plan for the organization of a new secret society, but he was obliged to confess that, under the circumstances, it was not likely to amount to any thing. He needed the assistance of the old members of the Crusoe band; but his father had ordered him to have nothing further to do with them, and, more than that, he took care to see that the order was obeyed. Tom, knowing that he was closely watched, kept aloof from the ferry-boys, and when his work for the day was over, he found relief from his troubles by sailing about the bay in the Mystery. One evening he extended his cruise around Block Island; and it was then an incident happened that brought about the events we have yet to describe. He was sailing around a high rocky promontory which formed the southern part of the island, his mind, as usual, busy with his new scheme, when he was aroused by hearing his name pronounced. He looked toward the shore, and was frightened nearly out of his senses when he discovered a boy, who bore a strong resemblance to Sam Barton, standing on a rock at the foot of the bluff, waving his hat to him. Tom was not superstitious, but he believed, with every one else in Newport, that the governor had deliberately put an end to his existence by jumping into the harbor on that stormy night, and his sudden appearance in that lonely spot was enough to startle him.
"Come ashore, Muley; I want to talk to you."
The voice certainly sounded like Sam Barton's, and Tom, astonished and perplexed, brought the Mystery up into the wind, and sat gazing at the bluffs as if he hardly knew whether or not it was safe to venture any nearer to it.
"Don't you know me, Muley?" asked the boy on shore. "I'm Sam Barton."
"Why, you were drowned," returned Tom.
"Drowned! Not much, I wasn't. I ketched hold of a spar that happened to be in the water near me, an' here I am all right."
Tom, being now convinced that the boy on shore was really the long-lost governor of the Crusoe band, filled away, and, when the Mystery had approached within a few feet of the rock, Sam said:
"Now, Muley, you're close enough. I want to ask you one question before you come ashore. Have you gone back on me?"
"No, I haven't," replied Tom, who had already told himself that the meeting with Sam was most fortunate, and that, with his assistance, his new idea could be successfully carried out, "but I have a small account against you. You made me captain of the yacht, without my asking you for the position, and then refused to obey my orders, and broke me without one word of excuse or apology. I didn't like that very well, but as our expedition proved a failure, I don't care so much about it. What are you doing, governor? and how came you here?"
"Are you sure you won't tell any body in the village that you saw me?" demanded Sam. "You see, I am afraid of Bobby Jennings and Mr. Grimes, an' I don't care about tellin' you too much till I know how fur you can be trusted."
"I won't say a word to any body – honor bright," replied