The Frontier Boys in the Sierras Part 11

"Skylarking is all right," whispered Jo to his comrade in mischief, "but this sealarking is different."

"If you were going to be hung you would try to pun," growled Tom.

By stealthy observation they found that there was no chance for them to reach the hood of the forecastle on the forward deck without being seen by the keen-eyed captain.

"Think up some scheme, Jo," urged Tom, "to distract the old boy's attention or he will spot us sure."

Jo thought a minute, then he discovered what he imagined would be a fine scheme.

"You stay here, Tom," he whispered, and sped back towards the cabin.

"He need not have told me that," grumbled Tom. "I wouldn't be apt to stay anywhere else."

Meanwhile, Jo had reached his cabin, and he hastily pushed the sliding door open and went in. He was not long in getting what he was after.

It was a s.h.i.+p's bell, with a history to it, that he had picked up in Hawaii--the bell, not the history. Holding the clapper tight so that it would not betray him, Jo made his way quickly to the ladder-like stairs leading to the quarter deck and tied it underneath, in such a way that it was sure to ring.

This promised to be a double-barreled joke, and they would be lucky if the recoil did not kick them over. When it was properly fastened Jo let go of it and sped back to Tom. Scarcely had he reached his fellow conspirator than there came the clear metallic ring of a s.h.i.+p's bell.

Weird and uncanny it sounded through the stormy darkness of the night.

The old captain could scarcely believe his ears. Then came that startling vibration again.

"By Thundas, what's that?" he cried.

"It sounded to me like a s.h.i.+p's bell," said Jim. "I'd soon find out, if you would take the wheel, sir." Growling something, the old fellow made in the direction of the sound, and Jo and Tom scudded for the forecastle, which they reached without being discovered.

Meanwhile, the captain had come to the ladder leading from the quarter deck to the main deck, and the tolling came from the darkness, just beneath his feet. There was a strain of superst.i.tion in him, as in all sailors, and he had heard yarns of ghostly bells on haunted s.h.i.+ps that tolled for the dead about to be. And it shook the old fellow's nerve.

Just then the shepherd's dog began to howl dismally and this put the seal on matters as far as the captain was concerned.

He could not locate the continued tolling, so he returned to the bridge and reported the fact to Jim, with his own view of the case.

"I don't wonder at it either, Skipper," he said in tremulous tones.

"This was once a pirate's s.h.i.+p, and I don't need to tell you anything about its former captain, Bill Broom. There's been many a deed of blood done aboard this s.h.i.+p." Jim felt generally angry, but not at the captain, whom he understood, but he hated to have the s.h.i.+p of which he was fond, given a bad name.

"Take the wheel, sir," said Jim, "and I'll find out in a jiffy what's wrong. If this s.h.i.+p is harboring any ghosts, I'll fumigate them out."

"It's a job for a young man," replied the captain, taking the wheel.

"I wish you good luck, Skipper."

No sooner did the captain take the helm than Jim strode across the quarter deck in the direction of the tolling sound. It was weird enough to give almost anyone the creeps. Just imagine for yourself how it would be, with that metallic sound coming out of the stormy darkness. Fortunately for him, Jim was not imaginative, and did not see things unless he was shown. He reached the top of the ladder, and the tolling was just beneath his feet. He started down and then something happened.

Let us return to the two desperate characters, to wit: Tom and Jo, whose malign efforts had started all this trouble. When we left them, they were in the steep ladder-way leading down into the forecastle.

They stopped there for a minute, panting both with excitement and from the dash they had made. It was as dark as pitch below them, but they could hear the stentorian snore of Pete and the st.u.r.dy Irish lad, who did the most of the stoking.

"Give me some more matches, Jo," whispered Tom.

"Don't you laugh and give us away," warned Jo.

Here they proceeded to rub the sulphur on their faces until their countenances took on a ghostly greenish-white hue. Then they crept down the steps into the dark forecastle.

"Who's that?" cried Pete, who slept with one eye open after the manner of sailors.

The boys gave a deep groan and then Irish roused up. Pete was already wide awake, and aghast at what he saw, two greenish-white faces in the gloom and with audible groans too. At first he was paralyzed, then Irish broke the spell.

"Howly Saints!" he yelled, "it's the devil!"

Then he sprang from his bunk yelling at every second, and made for the ladder. Pete wasted no breath in yells. He put it into action. When the boy gave his first yell the old sailor likewise jumped for the ladder; no matter if he did have to pa.s.s within a few inches of those ghostly ghosts, the fresh air for him.

It was a case of two minds with but a single thought, for old Pete and the boy met at the ladder and then there was a wild scramble. First Pete would start part way up and Irish would pull him down, then the boy would get up a ways and Pete would yank him deckward and the boy was yelling for help with every breath. It was a regular cat fight and Tom and Jo were weak from suppressed laughter, at the exhibition. It was funny in a way, but those laugh best who laugh last sometimes, as Jo and Tom were likely to find out.

Finally the boy did get out on deck with Pete at his heels, and they ran aft yelling at the tops of their voices.

"Murther!" "Haul in," according to their different modes of expressions.

"What's the matter with you wild Indians?" roared the captain from his station at the wheel. "Get below there till you are called."

It was lucky for them that he was not free to get at them, for the old captain was doubly irritated by their outcry since he had been somewhat nervous himself. Pete and the lad ran aft as though the devil indeed was after them. Jim heard the commotion just as he started down the ladder, and in a jiffy he had collared the runaways.

"Here, shut up!" he yelled, shaking them fiercely. "What's all this noise about?"

It took a couple of minutes before he could get anything coherent out of them. When he found out what they had to tell he started for the forecastle, grabbing a belaying pin on his way. He was thoroughly aroused, and he knew something was wrong, but he could not divine what it was.

"What's the matter with those b.o.o.bies?" cried the captain when he saw the tall figure in the darkness making for the forecastle.

"Think they have seen ghosts," yelled Jim, "as near as I can make out, dreaming, I guess."

"I'd give 'em something to dream about if I could lay hands on them,"

said the captain. Jim laughed and strode to the hood of the forecastle.

Now let us see what had become of the two practical jokers. It looked very much as though they were trapped and the joke had turned out more seriously than they expected, as is often the case, and they knew it would go hard with them when they were captured.

"We have got to hide," cried Jo, "those idiots have roused the whole s.h.i.+p. I didn't think they would act like that."

"We will probably be keel-hauled for this," said Tom. "Where are you going to hide, Jo?"

"Don't know, but we have got to hide somewhere, and soon, too."

Jo was more daring than Tom, and he made a dash for the deck with the hope that he would be able to get back to his cabin and be innocently asleep when an investigation should be made, but no sooner did he get out than he saw that all retreat was cut off, for he could dimly see Jim's form coming along the pa.s.sageway. He hesitated for a second undecided which way to turn, then he crouched quickly in the direction of the bow. It had come to him like an inspiration. There was a covered cubby hole roofed over, where old chains and such things were kept, in the bow.

CHAPTER XIII

TOM'S BAD LUCK

Jo crawled as far back as he could into his hiding place, b.u.mping his head and bruising his knees on the rusty chains, and in the remotest corner he crouched much like a scared kitten. He had just got safely hidden when Jim reached the hood of the forecastle.

Then Jim descended in search of the ghosts. No sooner had he lighted a lantern than Pete appeared hobbling down the steps into the dim interior with the bell, that Jo had tied to the ladder, in his hand.

This the old sailor felt would give the clue to the mystery, and it did.