by Oliver Optic
CHAPTER XIV.
THE CONSPIRACY.
"Well, Charley, my pipe is out," said Tim Bunker, as he joined his lateassociate in the club.
"It was rather sudden," replied Charles, disconcerted by the meeting,for he had actually made up his mind to keep out of Tim's way. "I didn'texpect any such thing."
"I did; I knew old Sedley meant to get rid of me."
Tim always knew everything after it was done. He was a very profoundprophet, but he had sense enough to keep his predictions to himself.
"You did not say so," added Charles, who gave the Bunker credit for allthe sagacity he claimed.
"It was no use; it would only have frightened you, and you arechickenish enough without any help. But no matter, Charley; for my part,I am glad he turned me out. He only saved me the trouble of getting outmyself."
"Did you really mean to leave?"
"To be sure I did."
"What for?"
"Because I didn't like the company, to say nothing of being nosed roundby Frank Sedley, Bill Bright, or whoever happened to be coxswain. Ifyou had been coxswain, Charley, I wouldn't minded it," replied Tim,adroitly.
"But I wouldn't nose the fellows round," replied Charles, tickled withTim's compliment.
"I know you wouldn't; but they wouldn't make you the coxswain. They hateyou too much for that."
"It is strange they haven't elected me," said Charles, musing.
"That's a fact! You know more about a boat than three quarters of them."
"I ought to."
"And you do."
Charles had by this time forgotten the promise he had made to CaptainSedley--forgotten the good resolution he had made to himself. Tim'sflattery had produced its desired effect, and all the ground which theBunker had lost was now regained.
"I am sorry they turned you out, Tim," said he.
"I am glad of it. They will turn you out next, Charley."
"Me!"
"Yes."
"Why should they?"
"Because they don't like you."
"They wouldn't do that."
"Don't you believe it," replied Tim, shaking his head, and putting on avery wise look. "I'll bet they'll turn you out in less than a month."
"Do you know anything about it?"
"Not much."
They had now reached the end of the grove, and Tim suggested that theyshould take seats and "talk over matters." Charles readily assented,and they seated themselves by the margin of the lake.
"What do you know, Tim?" asked Charles, his curiosity very much excited.
"I only know that they don't like you, and they mean to turn you out."
"I don't believe it."
"Do you mean to tell me I lie?"
"No, no; only I can't think they would turn _me_ out."
"I heard Frank say as much," replied Tim, indifferently.
"Did you."
"To be sure I did."
Charles stopped to think how mean it was of Frank to try to get him outof the club; how hypocritical he was, to treat him as a friend when hemeant to injure him. It did not occur to him that Tim had told afalsehood, though it was generally believed that he had as lief tell alie as the truth.
"You are a fool if you let them kick you out, as they did me," continuedTim.
"What can I do?"
"Leave yourself."
"Next week is vacation; and we have laid out some first-rate fun."
"There will be no fun, let me tell you."
"What do you mean, Tim?"
"If you want to be the coxswain of a boat as good as the Zephyr nextweek, only say the word," replied Tim, slapping him on the back.
"How can that be?" asked Charles, looking with surprise at hiscompanion.
"And you shall have as good a crew as the Zephyr; better fellers thanthey are, too."
"I don't understand you."
"You shall in due time."
"Tell me what you mean, Tim."
"Will you join us?"
"Tell me about it, first."
"And let you blow the whole thing?"
"I won't say a word."
"Will you promise not to say anything?"
"Yes."
"Will you swear it?"
Tim had read a great many "yellow-covered" books in his time, in whichtall buccaneers with long beards and bloodshot eyes required theirvictims to "swear," and he seemed to attach some importance to theceremony. Charles "swore," though with considerable reluctance, not toreveal the secret, when it should be imparted to him.
"You must join our society, now."
"Society?"
"Yes; we meet to-night at eight o'clock, in the woods back of my house."
"What sort of a society is it, Tim?" asked Charles, with a great manymisgivings.
"That you shall learn when we meet. Will you come?"
"My father won't let me go out in the evening."
"Run out, then."
Tim suggested various expedients for deceiving his parents, and finallyCharles promised to attend the meeting.
"You haven't told me the secret yet."
"The society is going to camp on Center Island next week, and we aregoing to take the Zephyr and the Butterfly along with us."
"Take them? How are you going to get them?"
"Why, take them, you fool!"
"Do you mean to steal them?"
"Humph! We mean to _take_ them."
"But do you suppose Captain Sedley and George Weston will let you keepthem?"
"They can't help themselves. We shall take the Sylph, and every otherboat on the lake, with us, so that no one can reach us. Do youunderstand it?"
"I do; but how long do you mean to stay there?"
"All the week."
"And sleep on the ground?"
"We can have a tent."
"How will you live?"
"We shall carry off enough to eat beforehand." Then you see, we can sailas much as we please, and have a first-rate time on the island. I shallbe coxswain of one boat, and you shall of the other if you like."
"But we shall have to come home some time."
"In about a week."
"What would my father do to me then?"
"Nothing, if you manage right. If he offers to, just tell him you willrun away and go to sea. He won't do nothing then."
"I don't know about that."
"He won't kill you, anyhow. And you will have a week's fun, such as younever had before in your life."
"The Zephyrs won't have anything to do with me after that."
"They hate you, Charley, and all they want is to get you out of theclub. You are a fool if you don't leave yourself!"
Charles paused to consider the precious scheme which had thus beenrevealed to him. To spend a week on the island, and not only to be hisown master for that time, but command one of the boats, pleased him verymuch. It was so romantic, and so grateful to his vanity, that he wastempted to comply with the offer. But then the scheme was full of peril.He would "lose caste" with the Zephyrs; though, if Tim's statement wastrue, he was already sacrificed. His father would punish him severely;but perhaps Tim's suggestion would be available, and he knew his motherwould be so glad to see him when he returned, that she would save himfrom the effects of his father's anger. His conscience assured him, too,that it would be wrong for him to engage in such a piece of treacherytowards his friends; but Tim declared they were not his friends--thatthey meant to ruin him.
Thus he reasoned over the matter, and thus he got rid of the objectionsas fast as they occurred to him. While he was thinking about it, Timcontinued to describe in glowing colors the fun they could have;occasionally relating some adventure of "Mike Martin," "Dick Turpin," orother villain, whose lives and exploits were the only literature he everread.
But Charles could not fall at once. There were some difficulties whichhe could not get over. It was wrong to do as Tim proposed; it was sowritten on his soul. The "still small voice" could not be silenced. Asfast as he reconciled one obje
ction, another came up, and something inhis bosom kept saying, "You must not do it."
The more he thought, the more imperative was the command. "Run away asfast as you can!" said the voice within him. "You are tempted; flee fromthe temptation."
"I guess I won't join you, Tim," said he.
"You won't, eh?" replied Tim, with a sneer.
"I think not; I don't believe it is right. But I won't say anythingabout it."
"I rather guess you won't. It wouldn't be safe for you to do so."
"I won't, upon my honor, Tim," replied Charles, rising from his seat,and edging away from his dangerous companion.
"Look here, Charley Hardy; in one word, you've got to join the Rovers."
"The what?"
"That's the name of a society," answered Tim, who had mentioned itwithout intending to do so.
It was certainly a piratical appellation, and Charles was notprepossessed by it in favor of the society. It had a ring of bold anddaring deeds, and his studies had not prepared him to entertain a veryhigh opinion of Tim's heroes, Dick Turpin and Captain Kidd.
"You can't back out now, Master Hardy," continued Tim.
"I don't want to join you, but I won't say a word."
"Very well, my fine fellow!" and Tim rose and walked away towards home.
Charles did not like this. He was afraid of Tim; afraid that someterrible thing would happen to him if he did not keep on the right sideof him.
Like thousands of others, he had not the courage to do his duty, andleave the consequences to take care of themselves. He was more afraid ofthe Bunker than of the frowns of an accusing conscience.
"I say, Tim!" he called.
"Well, what you want _now_?" replied Tim, stopping.
"Suppose I don't join?"
"Then you will be in Rippleton jail before to-morrow night; that's all."
"What for?"
"No matter; if you come to the meeting to-night, all right; if youdon't--Rippleton jail;" and Tim hastened away, heedless of Charles'scalls.
Rippleton jail! What could he mean by that? He felt guilty, and hisheart beat so violently that he could hardly breathe. The stolen purse,which still lay buried on Center Island, seemed to haunt him, and withthat he immediately connected Tim's dreadful threat. His confederatemeant to charge him with stealing it. It was all very plain, and hisconscience told him how justly he would be accused. He could not go tojail innocent, as Tony had, and be borne home in triumph from the courtby the boat club.
His frame trembled with emotion; and he knew not what to do. There was aright way and wrong way for him to proceed--the path of duty and thepath of error.
"I will go to Captain Sedley and tell him all about it," said he tohimself, "and tell him that they mean to steal the boats."
This was the path of duty; but he had not the courage to walk in it. Hewould be despised even then, and Tim Bunker would certainly be revengedif he did.
"I _will_ go;" and he actually walked a short distance towards CaptainSedley's house; but his courage failed him; he dared not do right, andthat evening he joined the "Rovers."
Poor Charles!