Jack Harkaway and His Son's Escape from the Brigands of Greece Part 111

"In your sleep?"

"No, awake. I followed the sounds to the hold."

"Well?"

"They were plainer heard there. I pushed my way over the barrels and boxes, and nosed down in all the corners with my bull's eye lantern, when suddenly I heard a half-suppressed cry, a violent gasp rather, as if someone had too suddenly found himself on the edge of a precipice, or had seen a ghost."

"Well, well."

"Well, at that very moment a hand was placed upon my arm."

"Yes."

"I started back and drew my dirk, and then I found my self attacking--"

"Mole?"

"No. Joe Basalt."

Harry Girdwood burst out laughing at this.

"So it was Joe Basalt that was hiding and having a lark with you all the while?"

"I didn't say so," replied young Jack, thoughtfully.

"Why, then, what, in the name of all that's wonderful, do you think it could have been?"

"I don't know, but Joe Basalt chaffed me. He swore I was walking in my sleep; but I have come back upon my old opinion since I have thought the job over."

"You mean that you actually believe there is someone concealed in the hold?"

"Is--or was. Now, you watch Joe Basalt, Harry, and see if there is not some thing very strange in his manner."

"I will, if you like, but--good-morning, Tiller."

This was to Jack Tiller, who came up to them touching his forelock.

"Good-morning, Master Jack--morning, Master Harry. We've got a fis.h.i.+ng party on, gentlemen, and thought as you might like to jine us."

"Who's going?"

"Me and Sam Mason, Tommy s.h.i.+pwright and Bill Adams, Joe Basalt and old Higgy--only that lot among the common folk," added he, with a grin.

"And who among the superior cla.s.s?" asked young Jack, laughingly.

"Mr. Mole."

"What, Mr. Mole! Why, what on earth is he going for?"

"That's exactly the p'int of it, young gentlemen,"

"How so?"

"We're going a-fis.h.i.+ng with something new-fangled which Mr. Mole has inwented."

The two boys looked at each other and grinned.

"Larks are on, Jack," said Harry Girdwood. "I'm in it, for one."

"And I too."

"That's your sort," cried Joe Basalt. "Mr. Harvey's going, too, and Mr.

Jefferson; now I go to Mr. Harkaway and ask his consent."

And Joe left them singing--

"Avast!" cries Jack, "do you suppose I ain't a man my dooty knows?

For liberty afore we goes To ax the skipper I propose."

And the well-disciplined sailor went to Harkaway's cabin and broached the question.

"All right, Basalt," said Harkaway; "only look sharp after the young gentlemen; you know what boys they are to get into mischief."

"All right, your honour; trust me."

"I do, Joe Basalt," responded Harkaway; "I do, for I know that there was never a straighter or truer man ever trod a deck than you are."

"Come, I say, your honour," remonstrated Joe Basalt, modestly, "draw it mild."

"No deceit about you, I know it; nothing underhand about Joe Basalt."

A sudden thought flashed through the sailor's head, and it brought up a very unpleasant reminder.

With it came a flush to his bronzed face.

He touched his forelock respectfully to Harkaway and ran up stairs.

As he went he muttered to himself--

"I felt like a miserable swab!" he muttered; "a d--d, deceitful son of a sea-cook--that's what you are, Joe Basalt, I wish I'd never had nothing to do with that precious stowaway."

CHAPTER XLII.

SHARK-FIs.h.i.+NG--BILLY LONGBOW'S YARNS--TELL THAT TO THE MARINES --A NOVEL BAIT--HOW MR. MOLE HAD THE LAUGH HIS OWN WAY.