CHAPTER III.
JACK TEMPLETON.
Jack Templeton stood in a shady grove in a little hamlet on the northcoast of Africa. A lad of seventeen, he was the only white person in thevillage, or in fact for many miles around. He had come there with hisfather five years before.
His father's reasons for thus practically burying himself alive, Jackdid not know. He had started up a little store and had made a bareliving selling goods to the natives. Twice a year a ship brought himstock enough for the ensuing six months, but except at these rareintervals, a white man was seldom seen in the village.
A year before Jack's father had died, and Jack had inherited the littlestore. Now he was following in his father's footsteps. Of his father'spast life he knew next to nothing, beyond the fact that his father, bybirth, was an Englishman, and, before coming to the little Africanvillage, had lived for some years in the United States.
In spite of his youth, Jack was of huge stature. Always tall for hisage, he had filled out so rapidly that now at seventeen he was well oversix feet and big all through. His strength was immense, and there wereno three natives in the village that could stand up against him.
His father had been a scholar, and Jack was a keen student. He spokeseveral languages besides English and one or two native dialects.
As Jack stood in the little grove this warm afternoon he kept anattentive eye on a shabby looking schooner that was creeping up from thesouth. At a distance of about a mile from the shore the schooner luffedup, hoisted a dirty red ensign and dropped her anchor; a fishing canoe,which had paddled out to meet her, ran alongside and presently returnedshoreward with a couple of strangers.
Jack made no move, in spite of the fact that he was well aware that thestrangers, probably, were headed direct for his store. To-day he was inno mood to meet a white man, for he was not quite ready to take hisdeparture from the village.
The canoe landed, the strangers stepped ashore and disappeared.Presently a file of natives appeared moving toward the shore, eachcarrying a large basket of provisions. Then suddenly two white menappeared, running.
They jumped in the canoe, the men pushed off and the little craft beganto wriggle its way through the surf. At the same moment another figureappeared on the beach, and made unmistakable signs of hostility to thereceding canoe.
Jack recognized this figure. It was his assistant. As Jack crossed thesand toward the village, the black assistant came running toward him.
"Dem sailors am tiefs, sar!" he gasped, when he had come within earshot.
Jack comprehended in a moment. "Do you mean they didn't pay you?" hedemanded.
"Yes, sar! No, sar!" exclaimed the assistant excitedly. "Dey no paynuttin'."
"All right," said Jack calmly. "We'll go aboard and collect for itthen."
"All canoes out fishin' 'cept dat one," exclaimed the negro, pointing tothe one carrying the sailors back to the schooner.
"We'll wait for that one, then," replied Jack.
The two sat down on the beach to wait. The negro said nothing. He knewJack too well to try and dissuade him from his purpose, so he kept hisown counsel.
The canoe ran alongside the schooner, and having discharged itspassengers and freight, put off for its return to shore. Then theschooner's sails began to slide up the stays; the canvas aloft began toflatten out to the pull of the sheets. The schooner was preparing to getunder way.
The canoe had now reached the beach and Jack and the black assistantclimbed in. Then they put off toward the schooner.
As the canoe bounded forward, Jack suddenly caught the sound of theschooner's windlass pawl. The anchor was being hove up.
The natives in the canoe bent to the work. The canoe swept alongside theschooner and Jack, grasping a chain, swung himself up into the channel,whence he climbed to the bulwark rail and dropped down on the deck.
The windlass was manned by five men, plainly Italians. A sixth wasseated on the deck nearby.
"Good afternoon," said Jack. "You forgot to pay for those provisions."
The seated man looked up with a start, first at Jack, then at theassistant, who now sat astride the rail, ready either to advance orretreat. The clink of the windlass ceased and the other five men cameaft grinning.
"What are you doing aboard this ship?" demanded the seated sailor inhalting and very poor English.
"I've come to collect my dues," replied Jack. "I'm the owner of theseprovisions."
"You are mistaken," said the sailor. "I am the owner."
"Then you have got to pay me."
"Look here," remarked the sailor, rising. "You get overboard quick!"
"I want my pay," declared Jack.
"Pitch him overboard," spoke up another sailor.
The first sailor, evidently the commander, advanced.
Jack stood motionless with his long legs wide apart, his hands claspedbehind him, his shoulders hunched up and his chin thrust forward. Hepresented an uninviting aspect.
The sailor evidently appreciated this, and for a moment hesitated. Thenhe came forward again. But he picked a bad moment for his attack, for herushed just as the deck rose.
There was a resounding "smack, smack," the sailor staggered backward,upsetting two men behind him, staggered down the deck closely followedby Jack, and finally fell sprawling in the scuppers with his head jammedagainst the stanchion.
The two other men scrambled to their feet and, with their threecompanions, closed in on Jack; but the latter did not wait to beattacked.
He charged the group, hammering right and left, regardless of the thumpshe got in return, and gradually drove them, bewildered by his quicknessand heavy blows, through the space between the foremast and the bulwark.
Slowly they backed away before his battering, hampered by their numbersas they struck at him, until one man, who had the bad luck to catch twouppercuts in succession, whipped out his sheath knife.
Jack's quick eye caught the glint of the steel just as he was passingthe fife rail. He whipped out an iron belaying pin and brought it downon the man's head. The man dropped, and as the belaying pin rose andfell, the other men drew back.
Suddenly a shot rang out. A little cloud of splinters flew from the mastnear Jack's head. Glancing forward. Jack beheld the leader emerge fromthe forecastle hatch and aim at him with a revolver. At that moment Jackwas abreast of the uncovered main hatch. He had perceived a tier ofgrain bags covering the floor of the hold. He stooped, and with hishands on the coaming, vaulted over, dropped on the bags, picked himselfup and scrambled forward under the shelter of the deck.
The hold of the ship was a single cavity. The forward part contained aportion of the outward cargo, while the homeward lading was stowed abaftthe main hatch. There was plenty of room to move about.
For a moment after Jack dropped to this place of temporary refuge theair was thick with imprecations and the sound of angry stamping came toJack's ears. Hardly had he squeezed himself behind the stack of baleswhen a succession of shots rang out.
Then there was a pause, and soon the leader commanded one of his men tofollow Jack. The man demurred. None of the others would go after him.
"He's too handy with that belaying pin," observed one.
One man was struck with a brilliant idea.
"Bottle him up," he cried. "Clap on the hatch covers and batten down.Then we have him and can sleep in our bunks in peace."
"Good," exclaimed the leader.
This plan seemed to satisfy all parties, and a general movement warnedJack that his incarceration was imminent. For a moment he was disposedto make a last desperate sortie, but the certainty that he would bekilled before he reached the deck decided him to lie low.
The hatch covers dropped into their beds. Then Jack heard the tarpaulindragged over the hatch, shutting out the last gleams of light that hadfiltered through joints of the covers; the battens were dropped into thecatches, the wedges driven home.
Jack sat in a darkness l
ike that of the tomb.
The Boy Allies on the North Sea Patrol Page 3