“And that Gasper Pold is a bad one too,” went on the captain. “I heard about him down in New Orleans. He cheated a lot of people with lottery tickets and policy-playing once, and they got after him hot-footed, and he had to clear out and lay low for awhile.”
“Well, in one way the folks who are foolish enough to invest in lottery tickets or play policy deserve to lose their money,” put in Sam.
“You are right, lad,—gambling is nothing short of a curse and nobody ought to stand for it. Why, on this very river men have been ruined by gambling, and some have committed suicide and others have become murderers, all because of cards—and drink. One is as bad as the other, and both as bad as can be.”
“Of course they don’t gamble as they used to,” came from Harold Bird. “The times have changed a great deal for the better.”
CHAPTER XIII
THE CAPTURE OF SOLLY JACKSON
The Rover boys and their friends from Putnam Hall had never been as far south as New Orleans before, and they viewed the city and its approaches with deep interest. The levees were piled high with cotton, molasses, and other commodities, and more activity was shown than they had witnessed since leaving the Ohio.
The small steamboat had a regular landing-place, but under orders from Dick and Harold Bird the captain took her up and down the levees and also to the other side of the stream. All on board kept their eyes open for a possible view of the launch, but nothing was seen of the Venus.
“It is possible that she has gone further,” said Tom. “Wonder if we can’t find out from some of the rivermen?”
“We can try anyway,” returned Sam. “It doesn’t cost money to ask questions.”
They spent the remainder of that day in hunting for some trace of the launch and then put up at one of the leading hotels over Sunday. They rested soundly and after dinner felt, as Tom put it, “a hundred per cent. better and some extra.” Then they took another walk and made more inquiries.
The captain of the small steamboat had no charter for the next few days, so he was anxious to remain in their employ, and he took them along the waterfront again early Monday morning. During this trip they fell in with another captain who told them he had seen the Venus on Sunday afternoon, with four men on board, puffing down the river.
“I was interested in the launch, so I noticed her particularly,” said he. “Two of the men had quite some liquor aboard and I was thinking they might fall overboard, but they didn’t.” Then he described how the party was dressed, and our friends came to the conclusion that they must be Pold, Todd, Jackson, and Baxter.
“Where could they be going to next?” asked Fred.
“That remains for us to find out—if we can,” answered Dick. “All I can think of to do, is to follow them.”
“Can’t we telegraph ahead to stop the launch and arrest those on board?” questioned Songbird.
“Yes, we can do that.”
The authorities were consulted and the telegrams sent. Then off our friends hurried, and were soon on the way down the Mississippi once more.
About ten miles below New Orleans is the entrance to Lake Borge Canal, an artificial waterway connecting the Mississippi with Lake Borge, which opens, through Mississippi Sound, into the Gulf of Mexico. The captain of the small steamboat had an idea the men who had stolen the launch were making for this canal, and he was not mistaken. Arriving at the canal entrance, our friends learned that the launch had been taken through very early in the morning.
“Well, this ends the search so far as I am concerned,” said the steamboat captain. “I suppose you want to go on somehow.”
“Can’t we send word to the other end of the canal?” asked Sam.
“Yes, we can telephone to the station there,” answered Harold Bird, and this was done without delay.
“Want the launch Venus, do you?” came back over the wire. “She went through some hours ago.
“Where did she go to?”
“Somewhere on the lake.”
This was all the satisfaction they could get, and bidding the steamboat captain goodbye after paying him off, the Rovers and their friends looked around for some means of getting to Lake Borge, a distance of seven or eight miles.
A barge was going through, and they were soon on board. They urged the owner to hurry and offered him big pay, and as a consequence before noon they reached the lake. Here they ran into an old fisherman, who told them that the persons in the launch had had a quarrel with two officers of the law and had sailed off in the direction of Bay St. Louis.
“This is certainly getting to be a long chase,” remarked Tom. “First thing we know we’ll be following them all the way across the Gulf of Mexico.”
“Well, I am willing,” answered Dick, promptly.
“And so am I,” added Harold Bird. “I intend to bring them to justice if I possibly can.”
Again there was a consultation, and the old fisherman told them how they might reach Bay St. Louis, a town of considerable importance on Mississippi Sound. The trip took some time, and on the way they looked around eagerly for some sight of the launch, but the craft did not appear.
At Bay St. Louis came a surprise. The launch had entered the harbor on fire and those on board had had to swim for their lives. The craft had been running at full speed, had struck a mud scow and gone under, and was now resting in eight feet of water and mud.
“Was she burnt very much?” asked Harold Bird, of the person who gave this information.
“I don’t think she was,” was the answer. “She went down before the flames got very far.”
“And what of the rascals who ran, or rather swam, away?” asked Dick.
“They came ashore, went to a hotel, where they dried their clothing and got something to eat, and then went off to get the launch raised.”
“I don’t believe they intended to raise the launch,” said Sam, promptly. “That was only a bluff.”
“Exactly what I think,” put in Tom. “Those fellows know they’ll be followed sooner or later, and they’ll try to make themselves scarce.”
What to do next our friends scarcely knew. They went to several points along the sound front, but could gain no information of value.
“We’ve lost them,” said Songbird, dismally. “All our long chase for nothing.”
They were moving from one dock to another when they saw a man sitting on some bales of cotton, sleeping soundly and snoring lustily.
“Why, isn’t that the carpenter who was going to repair the Dora?” cried Sam.
“Sure it is!” answered Tom. “Here is luck!”
“I wonder if those other rascals are near?” questioned Fred.
They looked all around, but soon reached the conclusion that Solly Jackson was alone. Then they shook the fellow and roused him. He had evidently been drinking, but he was now almost sober.
“What’s the matter?” he demanded, sleepily. “Lemme alone, Pold.”
“Wake up, you rascal!” cried Dick. “You’re not on the launch.”
“What’s the reason I ain’t?” stammered Solly Jackson. “Oh, she got on fire, didn’t she? Well, let her burn!” And he attempted to go to sleep again.
“You’ll wake up!” cried Harold Bird, and between them he and Dick shook the fellow until he was thoroughly aroused. When he realized his position he was greatly alarmed.
“Oh, gentlemen, it’s all a mistake,” he whined. “I—er—I didn’t run off with the launch, or the houseboat either. All a mistake, I tell you!”
“It was a mistake,” answered Dick, grimly. “And you’ll find it so when you are behind the prison bars.”
“Whe—where are the others?”
“That is what we want to know,” said Tom. “Where did you leave them?”
“Ain’t they here?”
“No. Where were you with them last?”
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Solly Jackson scratched his head thoughtfully.
“At the tavern. I had several drinks, and that’s the last I knew.”
“Did they bring you here and leave you?” asked Sam.
“I reckon they did—I don’t know exactly. But, gentlemen, I didn’t steal the boats and things, really I didn’t. It was Gasper Pold did the trick.”
“You aided him,” said Tom.
“He said at first he had bought the houseboat and was going to take her to New Orleans. He wanted me to go along and finish the repairs, and I didn’t find out what was really up till we got to the Lake Sico bayou. Then he told me that if I didn’t stick to him he’d shoot me.”
“When did Sack Todd and Dan Baxter join you?” asked Sam.
“Just before we left. I don’t know where they came from, but Pold knew Sack Todd well and Todd brought in the young fellow. Then they hid the houseboat in the bushes and stole what they could, and afterwards ran off with the launch.”
“Yes, but you helped the others to make us prisoners,” came from Songbird, severely.
“I did it because I had to—Pold said he’d shoot me if I went back on him. Mr. Bird,”—Solly Jackson turned to the young Southerner,—“you know I ain’t no bad man like Pold an’ that sort.”
“I know you are weak-minded and weak-kneed,” answered Harold Bird, in disgust. “But you stood in with those rascals and you must take the consequences.”
“It’s mighty hard on a fellow as ain’t done nothin’!”
“Where did the other fellows go?” demanded Tom.
“I don’t know—reckon they left me when I went to sleep here.”
“Didn’t they mention any place?” demanded Dick, sternly. “Come, if you expect us to be easy on you, you must tell us all you know.”
“They did,” answered Solly Jackson, after scratching his head again. “Gasper Pold said he thought of going to Tampa, Florida, where he has several friends. That young Baxter said he’d like to go to Tampa, and Sack Todd said he might go along. Then they talked of going over to Mobile, to get a steamer there for Tampa, but Pold said it wouldn’t do, as all the steamboat landings and railroad offices might be watched. So then Pold said he would look around and see if he couldn’t find some boat that was going to Tampa from here.”
“A steamer?” queried Harold Bird.
“Either that or a sailing vessel, he didn’t much care which. He said a sailing vessel might be safer, especially if they could ship without those on shore knowing it.”
This was practically all that Solly Jackson could tell them. As he grew more sober he seemed truly repentant of his misdeeds. He said Gasper Pold had plied him with liquor before running away with the Dora, and that had he been perfectly sober he should never have aided in such a rascally bit of work. That he had been nothing more than a tool from start to finish there could be little doubt. He agreed to go with them and do all he could to locate his former companions, and also do what he could towards having the gasoline launch raised and put in order.
CHAPTER XIV
ON A GULF STEAMER
“Well, now for a life on the ocean wave!” came from Tom.
“Und a houses on der rollings deeps,” put in Hans.
“And may the enemy be captured in short order,” came from Harold Bird.
“All well enough to hope that, but I am afraid we have some work before us, perhaps something we won’t like,” said Dick, seriously. “Those men know that the prison is staring them in the face, and they will do all in their power to escape. If cornered they may put up a stiff fight.”
“Well, we can put up a fight too,” answered Sam.
The conversation took place on the forward deck of the Mascotte, a gulf steamer running from Mobile to Tampa and other points on the Florida coast. Two days had passed since the boys had arrived at Bay St. Louis and in that time they had accomplished several things of more or less importance.
It had been an easy matter to obtain all possible information from Solly Jackson, and for the time being the fellow was in the hands of the law, awaiting further developments. He had promised, if the others were captured, that he would give evidence against them, and in return for this Dick and Harold Bird said they would be easy on the carpenter when he came up for trial.
The gasoline launch had been raised without much trouble and towed to a shipyard, where she was to undergo repairs. The craft was not damaged a great deal, but would need a new gasoline tank and some new seats. Fortunately the gasoline supply had been low at the time the fire broke out, otherwise those on board would have been blown sky-high.
After numerous inquiries Tom and Sam Rover had learned that Pold, Todd, and Dan Baxter had taken passage for Tampa on a schooner named the Dogstar. The vessel carried a light load of lumber consigned to a firm that was erecting a new winter hotel on Tampa Bay, and expected to make a fairly quick passage across the gulf.
The Rovers and their friends had taken the train from Bay St. Louis to Mobile, after first sending messages to Mrs. Stanhope, Mrs. Laning, and the girls. At Mobile they had just been in time to catch the Mascotte and had been equally fortunate in securing several vacant staterooms.
“We’ll head them off this time,” said Tom, yet this was by no means certain, it depending somewhat on the quickness of the trip made by the lumber schooner. The Mascotte was by no means a first-class steamer, and it had been a question, the day before the voyage was undertaken, if she had not better be laid up for repairs to her engine and boilers. But of this our friends knew nothing.
As soon as the trip was begun Dick and Harold Bird had an interview with the captain of the steamer and told the latter how anxious they were to get track of the Dogstar. To their dismay, however, the captain proved to be anything but agreeable and said he could not bother himself over their personal affairs, even when offered pay to do so.
“He’s a regular lemon,” said Tom. “I don’t think he’d do a favor for anybody.”
“And this steamer is a tub,” answered Sam. “I shouldn’t wish to travel very far in her.”
Yet with it all the boys felt in pretty fair spirits as they gathered on the deck and talked matters over. But in less than an hour they were in open rebellion.
They went to the dining room for dinner and were served with food that was scarcely fit to eat. As they had paid for first-class accommodations all found fault.
“Waiter, bring me some meat that isn’t burnt,” said Sam.
“And bring me some that is fresh,” added Harold Bird.
“And bring me a cup of coffee that is worth more than ten cents a pound,” came from Songbird. “This is nothing but mud.”
“Even this bread is next door to being sour,” said Fred.
“Yah, dis vos der vorst tinner vot I efer see alretty!” was Hans’ comment. “I vos make a kick py der cabtain, ain’t it!”
“Sorry, gen’men,” said the waiter. “But dat meat am de best we have, an’ dar ain’t no udder kind ob coffee an’ bread, sah!”
“Whose fault is it, the cook’s or the captain’s?” asked Tom.
At this question the waiter shrugged his shoulders. Then he leaned over and whispered into Tom’s ear.
“Wish yo’ would make a kick—I hates to serve sech food—’deed I does!”
The boys left the table half hungry and so did the other passengers. Dick walked up to one of the others.
“Don’t you think we ought to make them serve us with better food?” he asked, flatly.
“I do, sir,” was the answer of the passenger. “But the cook said it was the best he had. He said we might go to the captain or to anybody we please. He is going to leave the boat when we arrive at Tampa.”
Without more ado Dick, Harold Bird, and about a dozen others sought out Captain Fretwood, who was in his private cabin.
“What is it?” d
emanded the officer, eying the crowd sourly.
“We have come to complain of the food served at dinner,” said Dick. “It was so poor we could not eat it.”
“Oh, the food is all right,” answered the captain in an overbearing tone.
“No, it is not all right,” put in Harold Bird.
“We paid for first-class accommodations and we want first-class food,” put in Tom, with spirit.
“That’s the talk,” came from several in the crowd.
“See here, I am not to be dictated to by a lot of boys!” cried Captain Fretwood, angrily. “We are giving you good food, and that is all there is to it.”
“It’s a fraud!” cried Sam.
“A downright imposition,” added Songbird.
“Our tickets read ‘First Cabin with Meals,’” said Fred. “Those meals aren’t good enough for steerage passengers. Unless you give us something better—”
“Ha! do you threaten me on my own ship?” bellowed the captain.
“We certainly do!” said Dick, as Fred glanced at him questioningly.
“I can put you in irons for it, young man!”
“No, you can’t. We are not going to touch you or any of your crew. But unless you serve us with first-class food from now on I, for one, shall make a complaint against you as soon as we land, and have you arrested.”
At this announcement the face of the captain of the Mascotte grew purple with rage. He stepped forward as if to strike Dick. But the latter stood his ground, looked the irate officer full in the eyes, and the man paused.
“We have had trouble enough without your adding to it,” said Harold Bird. “We ask only that which is due us.”
“The young man is perfectly right,” said an elderly passenger. “The food is horrible. If he makes a complaint to the authorities I shall sustain him.”
“So will I,” added several.
“All right, have your own way,” grumbled the captain. “I see you are bound to get me in a hole. If the food wasn’t good it was the fault of the cook.”
“He says it is your fault, and he is going to leave you at the end of this trip.”
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