WAYNESHATD UNIVERSITY- UBRARY


‘‘It Ought to Be "Worth Five Dollars.”

Frontispiece

The Motor Boat Club of the Kennebec

The Secret of Smugglers’ Island

By

H. IRVING HANCOCK

Author of The Motor Boat Club at Nantucket,

Etc.

t7

Illustrated

PH I LADELPHIA

HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY

Copyright, 1909, by Howard E. Altemus

CONTENTS

Chapter    Page

I. Skipper Tom Makes His Bow, ................ 7

II. The'First Stroke of Business,............... 21

III. In the Fog, .................................36

IY. On the Track of the Puzzle,................ 49

Y. Braving the Unknown Enemy, .........   62

YI. In an Ugly Clutch, ........■................. 73

YII. Tom Halstead’s Beal Grit, ... .■.....  80

YIII. Worse Than a Wild Man’s Deed, .......  90

IX. Ab Perkins “Jonahs” Himself,............  95

X. The Hew Club Forms and Matt “Distinguishes ’ ’' Himself, ...................... Ill

XI. The Signal of Distress, ..................... 124

XII. Life or Death, .:........................  133

XIII. That One Odd Passenger,..................   140

XIY. Ab Has a * ‘ Fine Time, ” ..................... 150

XY. On the Heels of the Mystery,..........  157

XYI. In the Cave of Terrors,...................... 166

XYII. A Ticklish Moment, .................  177

XYTII. Joe Makes an Astounding Discovery, ........ 186.

XIX. Off for the ‘ ‘ Big Night, ”................... 195

XX. The Sea Trap,............................... 205

XXI. Captors or Captives1? ........................ 217

XXII. Face to Face in the Danger Zone, ........... 226

XXIII. The Big Prize of All,..........   236

XXIY. Conclusion, .......................  249

The Motor Boat Club of the Kennebec

CHAPTER I

SKIPPER TOM MAKES HIS BOW

X 7ILL the old tub float nowV’

\/\ Dick Davis smiled as, standing on the little pier, he glanced down into the carefully painted though plainly very old steam launch that lay alongside.

“I don’t believe I’d call her an old tub, Dick,” remonstrated Tom Halstead, straightening up from the engine over which he had been bend-ing.

“Why not?” asked Dick, still smiling as he looked the seventeen-foot craft over from stem to stern.

“Well,” Tom argued, “it doesn’t sound exactly respectful. ’ ’

“Respectful to the boat, do you mean?” smiled Dick.

“Put it another way, then,” suggested Tom. “I don’t much mind your calling the ‘Daphne’ 7

8 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

an old tub. Yet if folks hereabouts take to doing that generally it’ll do a lot of barm among the summer guests bere. Joe and I, you know, bave sunk our tiny little capital in tbis boat and we’re still beels over head in debt on her account, all in the hope of getting a bit ahead in the world. ’ ’

“And I wish you both all the luck in the world, Tom! ’ ’ cried young Davis, bending forward over the rail to offer bis band, which young Halstead grasped. “May you bave a big and prosperous summer! ”

Dick meant all be said. He was big-hearted and generous, though be didn’t for an instant realize bow much the “Daphne” venture meant to Tom and to the latter’s chum, Joe Dawson.

Never bad Dick really had to think over a penny, a nickel or a dollar. He was the son of a prosperous shipbuilder up the Kennebec River at Bath, Maine. The seventeen years of life had been easy for this young man. He was nearly ready for college. When he came out he would step, almost at once, into a partnership with his father.

The elder Davis maintained a small yard for furnishing supplies and light repairs to coastwise sailing vessels such as put in at this pretty little Kennebec village of Bayport. Young

OF THE KENNEBEC    9

Davis went there every summer because he liked the place and people, and becanse he delighted in meeting and mingling with the snmmer gnests who came to the two little hotels.

So it was all play, in snmmer, with Dick Davis. He had only to dress well, lonnge ahont with plenty of spending money in his pockets and enjoy himself in any lazy fashion that appealed to him. Not so with Tom Halstead. He knew the pinch of poverty, and had known it ever since he had been nine years old, when the sinking of one of the Atlantic liners had carried to the bottom, among others, Tom’s father, at that time first, assistant engineer.

The widow, who had been left with this son and a little daughter, Myra, now nine years old, had continued to live in Bayport after her husband’s tragic death. Mrs. Halstead belonged to the persistent, plucky type of New England pioneer women. Her husband had left her the little seven-room cottage and the two acres of ground that they called home. In summer Mrs. Halstead, by hiring outside help, conducted a laundry for summer guests. During two months she did well enough, hut the profits had to he stretched out over a year’s expenses for the family. Tom looked after a cow, a few pigs and chickens, and as much of a garden as there was room for. So the family held to-

10 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

gether, and son and daughter were able to have their schooling.

Joe Dawson, who was Tom’s own age, six: teen, had even less standing in the world. He was an orphan, alone in the world, who had drifted into Bayport two years before. In the winter Joe worked hard in return for his schooling and keep, going from one farmer or storekeeper to another. In the summer, when visitors filled the little village comfortably, Joe found his natural place working on the pleasure boats that ran around Bayport.

This summer both boys felt that they had found a great chance. Silas Hopkins, proprietor of the Bayport House, had owned and operated the old launch “Daphne” for several seasons. He now considered her rather too old and worn to reflect credit on his hotel, so he had agreed to sell the craft to our two young friends. The price was one hundred and twenty dollars, but Mr. Hopkins agreed to accept twenty dollars down and to allow the young sailors two years in which to make payment in full. By getting all their spare change together the boys had raised enough for the first payment. By going in debt at the hardware store they had obtained paint and some other materials needed for putting the launch in more presentable condition. Their own labor had

OF THE KENNEBEC    11

supplied the rest. Both boys were popular in the village and-nearly everyone wished them well.

Now, as Skipper Tom released Dick’s hand, -he bent once more over the engine. Steam was coming up rapidly. Where was Joe?

Laughing and chattering, more than a score of young summer people of both sexes' came down the street and out onto the pier, at which several other boats were made fast.

1 Say, see the old tub! ’ ’ called one young man from the city, laughing as he pointed at the > “Daphne.” “Beal steam coming out of the spout of her teakettle, too! ’ ’

Some of the young ladies laughed. Tom, still bending low, flushed painfully.

“Old tub, eh?” snorted Dick Davis indignantly. “Let me tell you, Will Morrill, there are not many stauncher, more seaworthy boats of her size on the Maine coast, and no more careful fellow to handle her than Tom Halstead. It’ll be full moon in a few days, and then I’m going to ask a party of friends to try a moonlight trip on the 1 Daphne.’ Of course, Morrill, if you’re afraid of wetting the polish on your shoes, we ’11 leave you safe on land. ’ ’

Some of the girls glanced teasingly at Morrill, who was very fastidious about his appear-

12 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

ance. At this moment Captain Ezra Peters, who ran the sailing packet out to Evans Island, sauntered out onto the pier. Espying our hero, this retired old salt hailed him with:

“Morning, Captain Halstead. You’ve got your craft fixed up fine. I wish you good luck, and I’m pretty sure you’ll get it.”

That fraternal word from an experienced captain put Tom right with the crowd and with his own wounded self. The flush died away as he nodded gratefully and thanked Captain Ezra.

Another glance at the steam gauge told Skipper Tom that the boiler was all ready for the trial.

“Where can Joe be! "What’s keeping him1?” wondered Halstead anxiously. “I wish he’d come. If the boat behaves well it would be'fine to make a good start before so many onlookers. And I believe the old ‘Daphne’ is going to behave mighty well to-day. ’ ’

Too-oot! Toot!

Tom sounded a long blast and a short one on the whistle, then stood looking up the street. But no Joe appeared in sight.

“I’m going out a little way alone, then, just to see if I can’t show these summer people a well-behaved boat,” young Halstead muttered.

More people were coming out onto the pier,

OF THE KENNEBEC    13

though Joe was not among them. Casting off the stern painter,-Tom ran forward and cast off at the how also. Then, with three more sharp toots, the eager young skipper seated himself a little aft of amidships, where he could rest his left hand on the engine lever, his right clutching the starboard tiller rope that ran through rings to the steering wheel at the bow.

With just bare headway, Skipper Tom cleared the pier. When out a few feet he threw the lever over gradually until the launch was making her best speed, not better than six knots. And now, as Tom turned for an instant to look back at the pier, he discovered that he had an unbidden passenger.

“I didn’t know you were on board, Matt Bragg, ’ ’ said Halstead a bit stiffly, as he gazed, none too pleased, at the big, hulking, coarse-featured, slouchy looking young fellow of seventeen who sat across the thwarts.

“ ’Spose ye didn’t,” grunted Matt, who had always been the bully of the younger boys of the village. He was now employed in the stable of the Bensonhurst, the other summer hotel. “When I see a boat headin’ to the place I wanter go I generally step aboard. When ye take me to the place I’m headed for I’ll get off.”

14 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

Tom’s clear blue eyes flashed as be glanced back again at tbe bully so much bigger and stronger than be was.

“I don’t know tbat I’m going any place, except out in tbe stream a bit and tben back to tbe pier,” tbe boy announced.

“Yes, ye are, and ye’re beaded jest rigbt,” growled Matt. “Ye’re almost bead on for Lowtber’s Point, and tbet’s wbere I’m going. Ye’ll run into tbe little wharf over there an’ let me off. Understand?”

Matt’s tone plainly implied that there was a thrashing in store for tbe young skipper unless be obeyed. But Tom, who felt tbat often tbe least trouble followed tbe fewest words, didn’t reply. Matt, feeling tbat > the question must be settled, said no more just tben.

Young Halstead gave all bis attention to tbe running of tbe boat. Tbe engine tbat he and Joe bad tinkered with so patiently was behaving quite as well as could have been expected. Always obedient to her helm, tbe “Daphne,” under expert handling, was therefore behaving very well. Tom, in watching bis craft with growing pride, almost forgot about Matt, behind him, until tbe latter growled out:

“ ’Bout three more points to starbud, young man! ”

OF THE KENNEBEC    15

Tom didn’t answer.

“Goin’ to mind what I tell ye?” demanded Matt gruffly.

Instead, Tom Halstead, satisfied with his boat, took a wide sweep around to port.

“Here, there! Whatcher doin’?” demanded Matt angrily.

“Going back to the pier,” replied Tom quietly, without looking at the bully.

“Ye’re goin’ to take me to Lowther’s Point —that’s what!” roared Bragg.

Tom turned back to look at him coolly.

“Matt, if yon had asked me, as a favor, to take you over to the point, I might have done it. But there’s no. particular reason why a dead-head passenger should sneak aboard and then expect to have things run just to please him. ’ ’

“Yon take me over to the point,” roared Matt, now purpling, “or ”

“Or, then!” laughed Tom, but there was a snap to his blue eyes.

Matt, seeing that the young skipper had no intention whatever of turning back to the point, suddenly rose to his feet.

“Tom Halstead, I’ll learn ye one or two things! This, for instance!”

Matt aimed a blow that would have knocked the young skipper down into his own machinery,

16 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

but Tom dodged it by a narrow margin. It was sucb a cowardly blow that, Halstead’s blood warmed up. He saw that Matt was aiming another. Quicker than a flash Tom darted in and landed one on Matt Bragg’s broad chest.

There was a snarl, a yell, and then Tom Halstead gasped. Splash! Matt had fallen backward, overboard. That was much more than Tom had intended. Moreover, Matt was but ■little of a swimmer, and this was out in the middle of the river.

“Gracious!” quivered dismayed Halstead. Bending down like a flash he shut oft the speed ahead. In another twinkling he had reversed the lever and the propeller began to churn vigorously.    \

Leaping to the stern Tom saw Matt rise above the surface of the water, striking out lustily though clumsily.

“Help! I’m drown—ugh!”

Bragg’s appeal ended in a gurgle as his wide-open mouth took in a lot of water.

There was a round life-preserver with a length of rope secured to it at the stern. Snatching up the life-preserver and the coil of rope Tom took instant, accurate aim, throwing the round, canvas-covered circle so that it fell just between Matt’s flying hands. Bragg clutched tightly at the life-preserver. Tom had

AT NANTUCKET    17

spoke Joe after- a while. “She’s fouled with dirt and thick oil at a good many points.”

‘‘Has the motor been overheated?” asked the owner.

“I don’t believe so, sir; at least, not to any serious extent,” Joe stated as his opinion.

“Any repairs to parts going to be necessary?”

“A few, but simple ones, I guess. We ought to be able to make ’em from the materials at hand. ’ ’

“You—er—couldn’t run out to-night, I suppose?” -

“We shall be very fortunate, sir,” Joe answered, “if we can take this boat out to-morrow forenoon.”

“We’ll stay aboard to-night and work as late as we can,” Tom explained. “Joe can’t really tell, until we get started, just how much will have to be done. But the motor is not hurt past ordinary repair. ”

“I was going to ask you over to the hotel for dinner to-night,” hinted the owner.

“There seems to be plenty of everything to eat in the galley,” Tom answered seriously. “So, if you don’t mind, sir, we’ll stay right by our work and help ourselves to food as we can.”

“Make yourselves at home, then. Do you

a—Motor Boat Club at Nantucket,

18    -    THE    MOTOR    BOAT    CLUB

mean to sleep aboard to-night?” inquired Mr. Dunstan, as he started up the steps to the bridge deck.

“I think we’d better, for more reasons than one, perhaps, ’ ’ Halstead made answer, as he, too, stepped to the bridge deck. “Mr. Dunstan,” he went on in a lower voice, “do yon know of anyone who conld have a good reason for wanting to injure yonr boat?”

“Why, no,” replied the owner, thongh nevertheless he gave a slight start. “Why?”

Tom described the men and the conversation aboard the train. Mr. Dnnstan listened with interest, thongh he shook his head when the two men were described.

“There might be a shadow of reason for their talk in one direction,” he admitted, slowly and reluctantly. “But, pshaw, no; I’m dreaming. No, there can’t be any reason for wanting to ruin my boat. Very likely you_didn’t hear quite right. ”

“At any rate,” Halstead went on, “Joe and I will be aboard to-night, and probably every night as long as we’re in your employ.”

“You seem to take this thing seriously, Halstead. ’ ’

“I don’t believe, sir, in throwing away what seems like a very valuable hint. It won’t do any harm for us to be watchful, anyway. By;

AT NANTUCKET    19

the way, sir, do yon mind letting the dog stay aboard, toot”

“Certainly yon may have him,” nodded the owner. “He won’t interfere with yon and he’ll sleep with one eye and both ears open. Well, make yourselves at home here, boys. Ho whatever yon please in the galley and feed and water Bouncer. I’ll be at the hotel this evening in case yon should want me for anything.”

After impressing upon Bouncer that he was still to remain aboard, Mr. Dunstan strolled leisurely down the pier. Both boys went hard at work.

“What do yon make of our new employer?” asked Joe after a while.

‘ ‘ He seems like an ordinary, easy-going man, ” Tom replied. “I don’t believe he ever startled anyone by doing anything very original, but he’s a gentleman, and we ’re going to find him considerate and just. That’s all we can ask in any man. ”

After that there wasn’t much talk, except the few words now and then that related to taking the motor to pieces, and repairing and replacing its parts. At the close of day they helped themselves to a bountiful meal and made a fast friend of Bouncer by catering to his healthy appetite. Then, by the light of lanterns, they went to work again. It was after eleven o ’clock

20 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

when they found themselves too drowsy to do further justice to their work.

“Let’s go up on deck and get some air. After that we’11 turn in,” proposed Halstead.

“I wonder if we’re going to have visitors or any trouble?” mused Joe. “Somehow I can’t empty my head of that talk in the car this afternoon.”

“If we do have any trouble,” laughed Tom nodding down at the dog dozing on the deck at their feet, “I’ve a private notion that we’re going to be able to pass some back—to someone.”

Twenty minutes later the motor boat chums had made up berths on the engine-room lockers and had undressed and gone to bed. Both were soon sound asleep. They relied on Bouncer, who lay on the deck just outside the open hatchway, to let them know if anything threatening happened.

CHAPTER II

BOUNCER WAKES UP

WHILE our two young motor boat enthusiasts lie wrapped in the first sound slumber of the summer night, lulled into unconsciousness by the soft lapping of the salt water against the sides of the “Meteor,”

AT NANTUCKET    21

let us take a brief glimpse at the events which had brought them here.

Headers of the preceding volume in this series are aware of how the Motor Boat Club came to be organized. It now numbered fourteen members, any one of whom was fully qualified to handle a motor boat expertly under any ordinary circumstances.

Every member was a boy born and brought up along the seacoast. Such boys, both by inheritance and experience, are usually well qualified for salt-water work. They are aboard of boats almost from the first days of life that they can recollect. Seamanship and the work required about marine machinery are in the air that surrounds their daily lives. It is from among such boys that our merchant marine and our Navy find their best recruit material. It was among such boys that broker George Prescott had conceived the idea of finding material for making young experts to serve the owners of motor cruisers and racers along the New England coast.

Tom and Joe were undoubtedly the pick of the club for skill and experience. More than that, they were such fast friends that they could work together without the least danger of friction. Though Halstead was looked upon as the captain, he never attempted to lord it over

22 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

his chum; they worked together as equals in everything.

Mr. Dunstan had long known Mr. Prescott in Boston, where both had offices. So, when trouble happened in the “Meteor’s” engine room,. Mr. Dunstan had sent the broker a long telegram asking that gentleman to send by the next train the two most capable experts of the Club. He had added that he wanted the boys principally for running the boat on fast time between Nantucket and Wood’s Hole, for the owner had a handsome residence on the island,

- but came over to the mainland nearly every day in order to run in by train to his offices in Bos-

- ton. The “Meteor,” therefore, was generally required to justify/her name in the way of speed, for Mr. Dunstan’s landing place at Nantucket was some thirty-five miles from Wood’s' Hole.

Further, Mr. Dunstan’s telegram had intimated that he was likely to want the young men ^ for the balance of the season, though his message had not committed him absolutely on that point. The pay he had offered was more than satisfactory.

Wood’s Hole is a. quaint, sleepy little seaport village. The main life, in summer, comes from the passing through of steamboat passengers for Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket. The

AT NANTUCKET    23

night air is so quiet and the sea scent so strong that even the city visitors at the little hotel find it difficult to stay up as late as eleven o ’clock.

On this night, or rather morning, at one o ’clock, there were but two honest people in the whole place awake. Over at the Marine Biological Laboratory, Curator Cray and an assistant were still up, bending drowsily over a microscope in one of the laboratory rooms. But that building was too far from the “ Meteor’s” pier for the scientists to have any hint of what might be happening near the motor boat.

It was the night before the new moon. The stars twinkled, but it was rather dark, when the figures of two men appeared at the land end of the pier. On their feet these men wore rubber-soled canvas, shoes. Not a sound did they make as they started to glide out on the pier.

But Bouncer woke up.

“G-r-r-r-r!” the bull pup observed, thrusting his head up, his hair bristling. • All this required but a few seconds. In another instant Bouncer was at the rail, his nostrils swelling as he took a keen look down the length of the pier. Then an angrier growl left his throat. It end^d in a bound and Bouncer landed on the pier. His short legs moving rapidly under him. Bouncer rushed to meet the soft-shoed gentlemen.

24 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

That last, angrier note from the bnll pnp ronsed Tom Halstead as a bugle call might have done. He leaped to his feet, snatching at his trousers. Joe stirred, half alertly. When he heard his chum’s feet strike the engine-room floor Dawson, too, sprang up.

“Mischief, just as we thought!” breathed Tom.

Down at the land end of the pier there was a sudden mingling of startled human voices.

“Por la gratia de Dios!” sounded an excited, appealing wail.

“Get away, you beast, or I’ll* kill you!” roared another voice in English.

Bang! That was the noise from the throat of a big-calibered pistol. It was followed, just as Tom bounded to the deck, pursued by Joe, by the rapid pounding of a horse’s hoofs and the rattle of wheels.

“There they go!” cried Tom, leaping to the pier in his hare feet and* racing shoreward over the hoards. But it was too late for the hoys to overtake the prowlers, who were now behind a fast horse.

“Did they shoot that fine dog?” growled Joe, his voice rumbling with indignation. Bouncer answered the question for himself by running to meet them, his tail a-wag, guttural grunts of satisfaction coming from his throat, while a

AT NANTUCKET    25

signal flag of information fluttered from his mouth.

‘ ‘ He took hold of one of ’em, ’ ’ chuckled Tom. “Good old fellow, you’ve brought us a sample of their cloth. Good boy! May I have it?”

Tom bent down to stroke the dog, who submitted very willingly. When Halstead took hold of the large, irregular fragment of cloth the bull pup grunted once or twice, then let go.

Back all three went to the boat, Tom lighted a lantern, then held the cloth forward.

“Brown, striped trouser goods,” he chuckled. “Joe, whom have we seen with trousers of this pattern?”

‘ ‘ That Spanish-looking chap in the seat ahead on the train,” muttered Dawson grimly.

“Now if Mr. Dunstan doubts that some one wants to put his boat out of commission we’ll have something definite to call to his attention,” uttered Tom excitedly. “Bouncer, you stocky little darling!”

Joe looked the dog over carefully to make sure that a bullet had not even grazed that reliable, business-like animal.

“If they had touched you, old splendid,” growled Joe, “we’d have had a good clew or two for avenging you. But those rascals didn’t even hurt your grit. You’re ready for ’em again—if they come!”

26 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

. For some time tlie boys were too excited to lie down again. When at last they did, they kept their tronsers on, ready for any farther surprise. Bouncer took up his old post on the deck above, seemingly free from any trace of excitement.

It was nearly half-past six in the morning when Joe next opened his eyes. In a hurry he roused his chum. Donning bathing trunks and shirts both dropped over the side for a refreshing swim. Then after drying and' dressing, Halstead went forward into the galley, while Joe snatched a few minutes at the work left over from the night.

Breakfast was a hurried affair, for there was still much to do about the motor. It was after nine o’clock when Tom stood back, looking on inquiringly while Joe put on the finishing touches.

“Now I’ll turn on the gasoline* and see if we can get any news,”* proposed Joe. A few moments later he started* the ignition apparatus and gave the drive wheel a few turns.

Chug! chug! the engine began slowly. Joe, oil can in hand, looked on with the attention of a scientist making an experiment. Bit by bit be increased the speed of the engine, smoothing the work with oil.

AT NANTUCKET

27

*‘Give us a little time and the old motor’ll mote,” observed Dawson quietly.

“Yes,” nodded Tom equally observant.

Had they been more of amateurs at the work they would have felt elated, for the engine responded to all increased speeds that were tried. But these two bad worked enough about motors to know that such an engine may come to a creaking stop when everything appears to be running at the best.

Chug! chug! It was a cheery sound as the minutes went by and the motor did better and better.    '

“I’m almost hopeful that everything is in shape,” declared Dawson at last.

‘ ‘ Good morning, boys! ’ ’ came a pleasant hail . from the "pier. “ I see everything is in fine trim. ’ ’ “It looks that way, Mr. Dunstan,” answered Tom, stepping up above and, by way of salute, bringing his hand to the visor of the Club’s uniform cap that he had donned this morning. “But motors are sometimes cranky. We don’t dare begin to brag just yet.”

“This morning’s mail brought me a letter from Mr. Prescott,” went on the owner, holding up an envelope. (‘ He has written me seven pages about you. It seems that you are great pets of my friend’s. He tells me that I can place every confidence in you.”

28 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

“Why, that’s mighty nice of Mr. Prescott,” replied Tom qnietly. He was greatly pleased, nevertheless, for he conld now see that Mr. Dun-stan’s opinion of them had gone np several notches.

“Well, well,” continued the owner, as he glanced smilingly down into the engine room; ‘ ‘ are you going to cast off now and take me over to Nantucket? It’s four days since I’ve seen my home and that lucky little rascal, Ted.”

Tom didn’t know or inquire who Ted was or why that “rascal” was so very fortunate. Instead he replied:

“We were thinking of a little trial trip first, sir, just to see how the craft will behave under way.”

“Good enough,” nodded the owner. “But I’m aboard, so why can’t I go with you?”

“Of course you can, sir.”

Tom ran ashore to cast off while Joe did some last fussing over the motor. Having cast the stern-line aboard and coiled it, Tom now came forward, throwing off the bowline, boarding with it.

“Start her up at very slow speed ahead, Joe,” called down the young captain, taking his place at the wheel and throwing it over a little.

With the first throbs of the propeller the “Meteor” began to glide away from the pier.

AT NANTUCKET    29

Mr. Dunstan liad taken his post at Halstead’s , right. The water being deep enough, the young captain moved out confidently.

“Just a little more speed, Joe,” Tom called, when the pier end was some two hundred yards astern.

A little faster and still a little faster the propeller shaft turned, until it settled down to good work. The “Meteor” was moving at about twelve miles an hour.

“Fine!” cried Mr. Dunstan joyously. “We’re all right now.”

“We’re not yet quite out of the—well, I won’t say woods, hut sea woods,” smiled Tom quietly.

“I’m forgetting my duty,” cried Mr. Dunstan in sudden self-reproach. “I must act a bit as pilot until you know these waters better. ’ ’

“Why, I studied the chart, sir, nearly all the way from Portland,” replied Tom. “I think I am picking up the marks of the course all right.”

“You can’t see Nantucket from here, hut can you point straight to it!” inquired Mr. Dunstan.

“I’m heading straight along the usual course now, ’ ’ Tom replied.

“Right! You are. I guess you know your way from the chart, though you’ve never seen

30 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

these waters before. Keep on. I wonT interfere unless I see you going wrong. ”

“Shall I head straight on for the island?” asked Halstead. “Or would you rather keep x close to the mainland until we see how the engine behaves?”

“Keep right .on, captain, unless your judgment forbids.”

Tom, therefore, after a brief talk with his chum through the open hatchway, held to his course, to the south of . which lay the big island of Martha’s Vineyard, now well populated by summer pleasure seekers.

Notch by notch Joe let out the speed, though he was too careful to be in a hurry about that. He wanted to study his machine until he knew it as he did the alphabet.- Every fresh spurt pleased the owner greatly.

“Your Club has some great fellows in it if . you two are specimens, ’ ’ said Mr. Dunstan delightedly. “Prescott knew what he was writing when he told me to stand by anything you wanted to do. ”

By the time when they had the Vineyard fairly south of them and the craft was going at more than a twenty-mile gait, Tom judged that he should inform the owner of the happening of the night before. He therefore called Joe up from the motor to take the wheel. Then Halstead told

AT NANTUCKET

31

Mr. Dunstan what had taken place, exhibiting the fragment of cloth secured by Bouncer and connecting this, in theory, with the swarthy man they had seen aboard the train.

Bouncer, looking up in his master’s face and whining, seemed anxious to confirm Tom Halstead’s narration.

“‘Why, there’s something about all this that will make it well for us all to keep our eyes open,” said Mr. Dunstan.

Tom, watching the owner’s face, felt that that gentleman had first- looked somewhat alarmed, then much more annoyed.

“There’s something that doesn’t please him and I shouldn’t think it would,” the young captain reflected. “Yet, whatever it is he doesn’t intend to tell me, just yet, at all events. I hope it’s nothing in the way of big mischief that threatens.”

“Of course I’d suggest, sir,”' Tom observed finally, “that Dawson and myself sleep, aboard nights.”

“You may as well,” nodded the owner, and again Tom thought he saw a shadow of worri-ment in the other’s eyes.

“Are you going to let Bouncer stay aboard, too, sir?” Tom asked.

“Ordinarily I think I’ll let the dog sleep at the house nights,” replied Mr. Dunstan, imme-

32 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

diately after looking as though he were trying to dismiss some matter from his mind.

Joe, too, had been keen enough to scent the fact that, though Mr. Dunstan tried to appear wholly at his ease, yet something was giving that gentleman a good deal of cause for thought. Mr. Dunstan even went aft, presently, seating himself in one of the armchairs and smoking two cigars in succession rather rapidly.

“We’ve put something into his mind that doesn’t lie there easily,” hinted Joe.

“But, of course, it’s none of our-business unless he chooses to tell us,” replied Halstead.

A little later Joe Dawson went down into the engine room to get the best reasonable work out of the motor. Even at racing speed the “Meteor ’s ’ ’ bow wave was not a big one. There was almost an absence of spray dashing over the helmsman. Tom did not need to put on oilskins, as he had often done on the 1 Sunbeam. ’ ’ The ‘ ‘ Meteor’s ’ ’ bow lines were so beautiful and graceful, so well adapted to an ideal racing craft, that the bridge deck in ordinary weather was not a wet place.

As they neared cool, wind-swept Nantucket, Mr. Dunstan came forward once more, to point out the direction of his own place. This lay on the west side of the island. As they ran in closer the owner pointed out the mouth of a cove.

OF THE KENNEBEC    33

Losing no time on uncertain moves, lie loosened and held np a piece of the mechanism.

“What’s that?” asked Mr. Prescott.

“The vaporizer that converts the gasoline into gas just before it mixes with air. Hold it up to the light, sir, and see how clogged the tiny openings are. No gasoline could get through.”

“Halstead,” admitted the owner after a look, “I begin to believe you know what you’re doing. ’ ’

Nodding, though without a word, Halstead bent to replace the vaporizer and to make other parts secure. Then he returned to the deck, the owner still following. Tom pumped the oil from the barrel back into the tank, then summoned Joe alongside and returned the barrel. Once more the young engineer returned below to the motor space. He took several careful looks at the mechanism, then glanced up to inquire :

“Shall I try to start the motor, sir?”

“Yes!” came from the broker.

Tom turned on the gasoline, set the igniters at work and bent over to “turn over” the engine. A few turns and things began to move. Chug! chug! chug! Tom’s face was radiant with delighted pride.

“Halstead!” exclaimed Mr. Prescott ear-

Met or Bout Club of the Kennebec.

34 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

nestly. “By Jove, boy, you have been a wizard with this engine!”

“Do you want this craft taken to Bayport under her own power?” asked the young skipper looking up, his eyes gleaming.

“Under her own power, of course, if you can do it, ’ ’ came the prompt answer.

“Then I’ll do it, sir.”

There being a lever-control that could be operated from beside the steering-wheel, Halstead stepped quickly outside. Mr. Prescott followed, scarcely less excited. Young Halstead sounded the hoarse auto horn in front of him, and Joe, close inshore on his way to return the oil barrel, signaled back. Tom pointed down the river. Joe, in turn, pointed and nodded his head to show that he understood. Then actually trembling with excitement, Tom Halstead ran forward to pull up the anchors on either side. In this heavy work he was aided by the owner.

“All clear!” breathed the excited, happy boy. His hands on the steering-wheel he reached with his right foot for the lever-control. The chugging of the motor changed to vibrant motion. Under Tom’s eager hands the beautiful “Sunbeam” swung around, heading down the river.

“Hurrah!” cheered the young skipper hap-

OF THE KENNEBEC    35

pily, as lie felt tlie whole structure- tremble under him like a thing of life.

“Yon’re one thing that I like—an enthusiast, ” smiled the owner.

“Can there be any truer sport in the world than skillfully controlling a splendid craft like this!” demanded Halstead.

“I don’t believe there can. I wish it were in me to learn,” replied the owner.

The “Sunbeam” was moving along at something like eight miles an hour. Though Tom knew she could go much faster he did not care to let out the speed until he had felt his craft and the motor thoroughly under his hands. He had made such a good beginning that it would never do to spoil all by any careless move. Besides he had such a plan in his mind!

Mr. Prescott became again the man of few and quiet words as the perfect craft moved leisurely down the river. In the windings, Joe, who was following, was soon lost to sight. Tom stood at his post as though in a dream of happiness, until he had gently, neatly landed the “Sunbeam” alongside the pier at Bayport.

“Well done, lad! Well done, indeed!” cried the owner commendingly. “By the way, Halstead, I wonder if it would be wise and possible for me to engage you to stand by the ‘Sunbeam’ for the summer?”

36 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

CHAPTER III

m THE FOG

DESPITE this beginning, the bargain was not struck too quickly. Mr. Prescott was not a man to leap in the dark. Also Tom made it plain that he and Joe were chums, and that one must share the other’s good fortune. The broker was not averse to having a crew of two instead of one, since, if they were caught in rough weather, two might be needed for handling the boat.

As for the boys, if they could earn, for three months, the fifty dollars apiece that Mr. Prescott suggested, they stood to make at least as much as they were likely to do with the launch. As to the “Daphne,” they would be able to pay for that craft out of their earnings. At the same time they would always have a chance to sell the old steam launch on good terms.

“I’ll tell you what, boys,” proposed the broker at last. “Go home to your dinners and think it all over. So will I while I am eating my luncheon. Then meet me here at the pier at half-past one. We will take a run down the river and into the ocean. I can then see how you handle a boat in the open, and by the

OF THE KENNEBEC    37

time we come back we shall have reached a decision. ’ ’

This, being wholly sensible, was agreed to. Mr. Prescott therenpon walked np the path to the hotel, while the two chnms hnrried along by the road.

“Oh, if he only agrees to it!” breathed Joe excitedly.

“I don’t know, of course,” answered Tom more calmly. “But somehow, Joe, I feel that we have made the best stroke of our lives.”

‘ ‘ That is, old fellow, you have, ’ ’ protested his friend. “For you have done it all.”

“You’ll have your chance, too, this afternoon,” hinted Halstead.

Then the boys parted, Joe to hasten to the place where he had been earning his keep by odd chores, while Tom almost ran home to carry the news to his mother and Myra.

“Don’t get too excited, my boy,” advised his ' mother. “A wise man sometimes changes his mind. The chance looks bright, but if it fails remember that you and Joe have your launch, anyway. ’ ’

“But you don’t understand, mother, the difference between running a slow, old-fashioned steam tub and being skipper of a fast motor boat!” cried Tom almost indignantly.

Mrs. Halstead, a woman on whom care, worry

38 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

and hard work had left many marks, smiled wistfully. 'She, of course, hoped with all her heart that her son would have his wish granted.

Tom was hack at the pier and aboard the “Sunbeam” at ten minutes of one. Joe got along five minutes later. Nor had they more than seated themselves on the rail of the bridge deck when along came Matt Bragg, a cold wet rag round his right wrist and a look of black hate on his face.

“Better get off that fine boat before the owner comes along and chases ye off,” snarled the bully.

“Why, if you like, Matt,” grinned young Halstead amiably, as he swung his feet, “you can wait and see the owner do it. ”

“Mebbe ye think ye’ve been hired to sit there and act as caretakers,” sneered Bragg.

“Perhaps we have—or more,” laughed Joe.

Both boys seemed so wholly happy that Matt became suspicious of some good fortune for them, so he did not choose to wait. When his wrist was well the bully meant to try again to even matters with Halstead, though he certainly didn’t intend to try it when the two chums were together. With a sneer Matt turned and walked off the pier.

Mr. Prescott returned ten minutes ahead of the time he had set.

OF THE KENNEBEC    39

4 4 Yon’re on hand sharp, I see, young men,” he smiled.

IYes, sir,” Tom responded. “I don’t believe it will be a bad plan.to start early, either.”

“Why!”

“Well, if I know anything about the look of matters off to seaward there’ll be one of onr Maine fogs rolling in by the end of the afternoon.”

II Sol” asked the broker. He glanced seaward, shading his eyes with one hand, though he made little or nothing of the light haze that hung low in the south. “Very good, captain, cast off as soon as you like.”

There being room enough, Mr. Prescott brought an armchair from aft and placed it near the port rail on the little bridge deck. Joe, at a nod from his chum, cast off the bowline, then ran down the pier astern. Tom, starting the motor, gave the lever-control a slight shove, throwing over the wheel. ’The boat, still fast at the stern, veered her nose around.

“Cast off the stern-line, Joe!” shouted the young captain.

This Dawson did, at the same time leaping aboard and coiling the rope neatly. Tom, glancing backward over his shoulder,, let on the speed a notch more. The “Sunbeam”

W THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

headed down the river, her sharp bow dividing the waters in two graceful lines.

11 Say, bnt this boat acts as thongh she conld go!” cried Joe, coming forward to coil the bowline.

“She can,” langhed Tom happily. “Bnt as yet she’s making only ten miles an hour. Just wait until we get some speed out of her—if Mr. Prescott is willing,” he added, with a side glance at the owner.

“Yes, go ahead and call out more speed as soon as you’re sure you have the boat under good control,” agreed the broker.

“Get down by the engine, Joe, and take the word from me,” Tom directed.

With Joe’s hand at the lever the speed was let out to fourteen miles, then to sixteen. To the excited boys it seemed like racing. They had never traveled faster than this. Now the bow cut the water so that it, tossed up a fine spray over those on the bridge deck. Mr. Prescott rose, went to a locker, changed his straw hat for a visored cap and put on a raincoat.

“You’d better call your friend to the wheel and get the same outfit for yourself, captain,” was the broker’s advice.. And Tom followed it promptly, just in time to save himself from being wet to the skin, for now they were in the rougher water near the mouth of the Kenne-

OF THE KENNEBEC    41

bee. Joe, as soon as relieved at the wheel, found a cap and raincoat, too, for he conld remain on deck except when needed at the lever.

“ Captain, yon know the rocks in these waters, I hope f’ ’ called Mr. Prescott, as he sat looking ont over the river’s month.

“Yes, sir,” Tom answered promptly.

At that instant the broker leaped to his feet, for, just under the river’s surface, at port, he had caught sight of the top of an ugly looking ledge hardly twenty feet' away.

“Did you know that reef was there, Halstead?” he demanded.

“Yes, sir; but we cleared it with plenty of room, didn’t we, sir?” Tom answered.

“Had I known it was there I should have given it a berth by at least two hundred feet,” was the broker’s reply.

However, they were soon so far out past the river’s mouth as to be past the danger of running on reefs or ledges. By the broker’s order they kept on straight out to sea. Tom gradually increased the speed until the fast, capable crafty vibrating heavily from stem to stern, was making her twenty-two miles and the cool spray was dashing back over them like a heavy rain.

“Oh, this is glorious,” breathed Tom, as, with hand on the wheel, he peered sharply

42 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

ahead. “It’s grand work, Mr. Prescott, darting over the ocean at this speed. ’ ’

“Oh, twenty-two miles an hour is very comfortable speed,” said the broker quietly. “The boat can be put to twenty-six, though, or better, as you shall find out for yourself one of these days when you’ve grown wholly used to handling the ‘Sunbeam.’ ”

On and out they kept until the lower-lying parts of the coast line had been left behind below the horizon. Out here there was a somewhat heavy, though not dangerous, sea running. Now Mr. Prescott who, though he could not run his own boat, had some idea of what he ought to demand of a skipper, made Tom run at all speeds, including the feat of steering the “Sunbeam” at slow speed through the trough of the sea. Here she wallowed heavily from side to side between the ridges of whitecaps, but to Tom and Joe, born and bred on the coast, it was just the same as running over the most placid waters.

Their course had now taken them several miles eastward from the mouth of the river.

“Strike in about due north and then cruise up the coast,” directed Mr. Prescott. “What are you looking backward at, captain?” “Trying to figure out whether the fog is going to overtake us,” rejoined young PXal-

OF THE KENNEBEC    43

stead. “Do you see, sir, that low-lying bank of clouds astern !”

*1 Pooh! That must he miles away. ’’

“It’s fog, and it’ll he on us long before dark, sir.”

Joe glanced astern, regarding the fog hank solemnly, though he said nothing. The “Sunbeam” danced on over the waters at more than twenty miles an hour, and had covered several miles before the cloud behind grew noticeably larger. And now, what had seemed some time before like a mere speck on the ocean began to loom up larger and larger, an island of considerable size. In the center it rose up steeply a mass of rock, with groves of trees here and there. The land near the shore was covered with trees. The island appeared to have an area of about twenty acres.

“What place is that!” asked Mr. Prescott. “It has two names, sir,” Tom replied rather briefly. “One is Ghosts’ Island, the other Smugglers’ Island.”

“Why two names, eh!” pursued the broker. “And what do they mean!”

“The names go with two very gruesome tales, both dealing with disaster and mysterious death,” Halstead answered gravely. “A lot of people hereabouts will tell you that the island is haunted, and haunted terribly. All kinds of

44 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

strange sounds and signs have been observed or beard from tbe island, especially in foggy or black weather. And tales that go away back to 1824 deal with people who have gone to tbe island tbrongb curiosity, and have never been seen afterwards.”

‘ ‘ Humph! ’ ’ said tbe broker curiously. * ‘ Anyone disappeared there in recent years %

“I haven’t beard of anyone going to Smugglers’ Island in late years,” returned Captain Tom. “Everyone hereabouts gives tbe place as wide a    berth as    possible.    It    has

tbe name of being    an accursed part    of    tbe

earth. ’ ’

“Here’s tbe fog sneaking up on us,” broke in Joe, pointing astern. “We’ll be in tbe thick of it in ten minutes more.”

Prom off shore came tbe warning of foghorns and fog-bells.    Two big    steamers,    one of

them already wrapped in tbe    embrace    of    tbe

fog, were sounding hoarse whistles.

“Boys, this doesn’t look like making tbe Kennebec in safety,” cried Mr. Prescott, rising and looking about him. “Halstead, can you make any sort of shelter at this island?”

“We can’t anchor off tbe island safely, sir,” Tom answered. “There’s a little cove on tbe north side of the island. We can get in there, if we race for it, and drop anchor on a safe

OF THE KENNEBEC    45

bottom—if you want to get that close to a gruesome island.”

“The cove, then, and make it before this fog stops us,” decided the broker promptly. Tom looked a trifle queer, but said nothing. Joe vanished below, forward, his hand at the lever, ready for orders. The young skipper, with one eye sideways on the fast-approaching fog, made rapid time round the island, sighting the little cove, for which he headed under bare steerage way. It was a ticklish place to get into, this tiny, reef-strewn cove, but Tom made it, found clear water and let go the anchors. While they were doing this Mr. Prescott curiously regarded as much as he could see of the bleak, gloomy looking shore of the island that the fog was quickly to shut from view.

“Boys,” announced the broker, “in this cold, miserable fog I’d rather he on shore than on deck if you can stand for it. Will you haul up the tender and put me ashore? I can at least stretch my legs there.”

So they hauled in the small hoat that had been dragging astern during the trip. It had shipped some water, and this tffe boys rapidly baled out. Joe took the oars. Mr. Prescott stared curiously iqp the slope as the hoat beached.

“Let’s take a hit of a stroll about before the

46 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

fog gets so thick we can’t even see each other,” proposed the broker. Crossing the narrow strip at the cove’s edge he trndged up the rising ground, Tom at his side and Joe just behind. Sharp-pointed rocks jutted above the soil here and there; many fragments of broken rock lay over the ground. Two hundred feet up from the water stood a small ledge, flanked on either side by a pine tree. It was an object resting on the ledge that caught the broker’s attention.

“Look at that packing case up there,” said Mr. Prescott, pointing to a wooden box, cubical in form and measuring about three feet on each side. “That’s a new case—nothing that has been out in the weather. Too large for picnickers to bring here. Boys, there must he some one living on the island.”

Mr. Prescott halted, looking all about him. “I never heard of anyone living here,” replied Tom. “It has such a gruesome name, this island, that even picnickers and launch parties keep away from here.”

Just now another big, dense bank of fog rolled in over the island. It came rolling mistily down the hill slope, hiding even the ledge and the sentinel pines from their sight.

“I don’t want to pry into other people’s business,” said the broker musingly, “but let’s go up and have a close look at that packing case.

OF THE KENNEBEC    47

Such an object on an uninhabited island arouses my curiosity. ’ ’

Though the fog now hid the ledge from them, the trio had their bearings so perfectly and the distance was so short that they had no difficulty in going straight to the spot.

As they reached the spur of stone, and Mr. Prescott rested one hand on it, he turned a wonder-struck face to the boys.

“Halstead,” he asked sharply, “wasn’t there a packing case on this ledge a minute or two ago ?’ ’

“There certainly was,” gasped Tom.

“I saw it, too,” volunteered Joe, his eyes now very wide open.

“Then where is if?”

The conundrum was too much for any of them. There had been no sound or sign of other human presence there, yet that case, had it been packed with anything of weight, would have needed at least two men to move it. Perhaps it was the fog that made the broker. shiver slightly. Tom said nothing, though his lips were tightly set. It was uncanny, to say the least.

All three would have been considerably more disturbed had they been aware that a pair of gleaming human eyes was watching them uncertainly. Not fifteen feet away from them a

48 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

man lay hugging the ground, his face screened by weeds and low bushes. Those bright, dan-gerous-looking eyes had all they could do to see anything at all through the thick fog. The owner of the eyes stifled the sound of his own breathing all he could as he muttered to himself :

“If they get too meddlesome around here something will happen that will surprise them a heap more than just-the vanishing of a wooden box!”

In silence Mr. Prescott led the way to the westward a few rods. That gave the unknown watcher a chance to glide stealthily off. A few moments later an awesome sound broke the silence. It was a low, penetrating wail that sounded like nothing human. The trio from the motor boat halted, looking quickly at each other.

4 What was that ? Where did it come from f ’’ whispered Mr. Prescott sharply.

“I told you this island has an evil name,” replied Tom.

“I’m. going to find out what all this mystery means,” i*etorted the broker doggedly.

A big and dangerous contract, as they were soon to find!

AT NANTUCKET    49

both hands upon the wheel, watching intently ahead.

“Hey! What you trying to do? Swamp us with your wake ? ’ ’ demanded an irate fisherman in a dory, as they raced past him.

But they had gone only close enough to enable big Michael, standing on the deck house, to peer at the inside of the dory.

Several other small craft without cabins they ran close to in the same manner, making sure that no stolen boy was on any of them.

Up near Great Point they encountered a cabin sloop. Michael, however, recognized a clergyman friend as one of this party, so Halstead passed them with only a friendly toot from the auto whistle.

Then down around the east coast of Nantucket they sped, further out to sea now, since inshore no craft were observed. They kept on until the south coast, too, had been passed, but there was no sign to gladden their eyes nor arouse their suspicions. Next along the south shore of the island the “Meteor” raced, and on out to Muskeget Island. From this point they had only to round the latter island and steer straight back for the inlet where Mr. Dunstan’s pier lay.

“Sure, I don’t like to go back stumped like this,” growled Michael.

‘‘No more do I, ” rejoined Tom. ‘‘Say, we’ve

4—Motor Boat Club at Nantucket.

50 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

got daylight enough; I’m going to retrace our whole course and keep in closer to shore. ’ ’

Joe, who for some time had been on deck, nodded his approval. Cutting a wide sweep, Tom headed hack, going now within a quarter of a mile of the shore.

“It begins to look,” hinted Joe, “as though whoever is leading the young Dunstan heir astray hasn’t taken him off the island of Nantucket at all. ”

“There are plenty of hiding places on Nantucket, aren’t there?” inquired Tom, turning to the big coachman.

“Plenty,” nodded Michael, “if the rapscallions knew their way about the old island. But, by the same token, the rascals would he in plenty of danger of being found by the constables.” “Of course Mr. Dunstan is having the local officers search,” pondered Tom aloud. “He said he would. He can telegraph the mainland from the island, too, can’t he, Michael?” “Sure,” nodded the coachman.

“Then Mr. Dunstan must have waked up some pretty big searching parties by this time, both on the island and on the mainland,” Halstead concluded. “But see here, Michael, why wouldn’t it be a good plan to put you ashore? You can telexffione Mr. Dunstan and see if there’s any news.”

AT NANTUCKET

51

“And if there ain’t any,’’ suggested the Irishman, “I might as well be going home across the island on foot, and keeping me eyes open. I can ask questions as I go along, and maybe be the first of all to find out any rale news.”

“That’ll be the best plan of any,” approved Halstead. “It begins to look more sure, every minute, that we’re not going to need your fine lot of muscle.”

At the lower end of the east coast of the island Tom remembered having seen a pier that would serve them for landing the Irishman. They made for that pier accordingly and Michael leaped ashore.

“I’ll telephone and then come back within sight,” the coachman called back to them, as he started. “If ’tis good news I’m hearing, I’ll throw up me hat two or three times. If ’tis no news, I’ll wave a hand.”

The “Meteor” then fell oft, but kept to her bearings while ten minutes passed. Then Michael appeared in sight from the shore. He waved one hand and signed to the boys to keep on their course.

“Too bad!” sighed Tom. “But it makes it more certain than ever now, doesn’t it, Joe, that some real disaster has happened to young Ted Dunstan? It’s past the lad’s dinner time now.

52 THE MOTQB BOAT CLUB

No healthy hoy goes without either luncheon or dinner, unless there’s a big reason for it.” “Unless Ted has merely gone to some friend’s home and has forgotten to notify his parents,” suggested Dawson.

. “But Ted doesn’t strike me as the boy who’s likely to do that. He’s a fine little fellow, and I (lon’t believe he’d be guilty of being so inconsiderate as to leave home for hours without telling some one.”

They had the “Meteor” under full headway now. Tom, with one hand on the wheel, kept a keen lookout. They had run along some miles when Halstead gave a sudden gasp, made a dive for the rack beside the wheel that held the binoculars and called sharply:

‘ ‘ Take the wheel, Joe! ”

With that Tom Halstead bounded down into the engine room. Over at one of the open portholes he raised the marine glasses to his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” called down Joe, filled with the liveliest curiosity.

“Matter enough!” came his chum’s excited rejoinder. “Don’t look when I tell you. Keep your eyes on your course ahead. But you saw that little pier over at port?”

“Yes.”

‘ ‘ Maybe you noticed a man sitting there ? ”

AT NANTUCKET    53

“I did,” Joe admitted.

“When I first saw him,” Tom went on, show, ing his animated face at the hatchway, “I didn’t think mnch abont him. But the second time I looked I thought I saw something that brought hack recollections. That was why I came down here for a near-sighted peep through the glasses. The fellow couldn’t see me down here and so ought not to suspect that we have noticed him particularly.”,

“But who is h'ef” cried Joe eagerly.

“Oh, he’s the right man, all right,” Tom. retorted perhaps vaguely. “He’s got on either the same pair or another pair just like ’em.” “ Pair ? Of what ? ’ ’ demanded Joe. “Trousers, of course, you dull old simpleton!” whipped out Halstead. “Joe, it’s the same old pattern of brown, striped——”

“The Span ”

“The pirate, I call him,” growled Halstead, stepping up on deck and replacing the binoculars in their rack without another look ashore. They were rapidly leaving astern the solitary one seated against the pier rail.

“Do you think ” began Joe, but Tom gave

him no chance to finish.

“I don’t think anything,” broke in Halstead, alive with energy. “I am going to know—that’s what.”

54 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

Tom took the wheel himself, swinging the craft around a point of land just ahead.

“Look back, Joe. This shuts us out from the sight of that striped pirate, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” nodded Dawson.

Tom shut off the speed, adding:

“Stand ready, Joe, to use speed or wheel, and keep her about so-so. I’m going to lower the dingey into the water and row ashore. I’ll rig a line to her stern, so you can haul her hack. Don’t bother to get the small boat up at the davits. Just make her fast astern. And

then ”

“Wait here for you,” guessed Joe.

“No, as soon as you get the dingey made fast, put on headway and run the boat back to Mr. Dunstan’s pier. Report to him, telling him just” what I’m doing and assure him I won’t be afraid to telephone if I learn anything worth while. I’ll get over to his place as soon as I can, later in the evening. ’ ’

Tom got the small boat into the water, left one end of a small rope in Joe’s hands and rowed somewhat more than a hundred feet to the beach. From there he waved his hand. Joe began to haul in on the line. Within thirty feet of the beach the woods began; Halstead was quickly lost to his chum’s sight.

Full darkness came on while Tom was still

AT NANTUCKET    55

in the woods heading cautiously south. As he hastened along, making little or no noise, Halstead wondered what he wonld do with the man in case he discovered him to be really one of the pair who had sat in the seat ahead on the train.

“I suppose I’d better wait and make up my mind after I’m sure it is the same fellow,” Tom concluded.

The young skipper did not, at any time on this swift walk, move far from the shore line. At last he came to the edge of the woods, a very short distance from the pier he was seeking. There was still a man there, seated on the rail of the pier. There were some bushes, too, to aid in shielding the boy’s forward progress if he used care. Tom went down, almost flat, then crept forward, moving swiftly, silently, between bushes.

At last he was near enough to be sure of his man, trousers and all. It was the same man Halstead had seen on the train. The “pirate” was at this moment engaged in rolling a cigarette.

56 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

CHAPTER V

A JOKE OK THE ENEMY

HE slight, swarthy stranger rolled his

cigarette up nicely, moistening the edge

of the paper, stuck the thing between his lips, lighted the tobacco and began to smoke in evident enjoyment.

“That’s my party, all right,” quivered Tom. “And now I’ve found him what on earth am I going to do with him?”

That was a new poser. Halstead had been so intent on identifying his suspect that, now he recognized him, he must figure out what was to be done. s

“If the fellow is all right he ought to have no objections to going along with me and answering questions. If he won’t do that”—here Tom’s eyes began to flash—“I believe I’ll make him. This is a business that calls for stern measures. This fellow belongs to the crowd that must know all about Ted Dunstan’s disappearance. ’ ’

Yet, to look at him, one would hardly suspect the swarthy man leaning against the pier rail of being a conspirator. As he smoked he appeared to be wholly at peace with himself and

AT NANTUCKET

57

with the world. He did not seem to have a care on earth.

As he still crouched behind a bush, watching the nearby fellow in the dark, an impulse of mischief came to Tom Halstead. He remembered that night prowling about the “Meteor” over at Wood’s Hole, and he remembered how Bouncer had frightened this same man.

“Gr-r-r-r!” sounded Tom suddenly from behind the bush. “Gr-r-r-r! Woof! Woof!”

It was a splendid imitation of the growl and bark of a bulldog. At the same.; instant Tom made a semispring through the bush.

The “pirate” uttered a wordless howl of fright. He lurched, attempted to recover himself and leap at the same instant, and——

Splash! There was another howl of terror as the man slipped over backward, then, headfirst, struck the water at the side of the pier.

“Help! I drown!” came in a muffled voice, and a new note of terror sounded on the night.

Now drowning anyone, was as far from Tom Halstead’s mind as could be. With an upward bound he sprinted out onto the pier, bending under the rail close to where the frightened one was making huge rings on the water in his struggle to keep up.

In his efforts the fellow reached one of the piles of the pier, hanging to it in mortal terror.

58 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

“Help, help, kind sir!” lie pleaded hoarsely. “Not a stroke do I swim. Pnll me out before I drown. ’ ’

Throwing himself npon the pier, Tom hent down with both hands.

“Here, catch hold,” he hailed. “You’re in no danger. I’ll pull you out all right.”

It was some moments before Tom could persuade his “pirate” to let go that frantic clutch at the pile. But at length Halstead drew his dripping suspect up onto the hoards of the pier.

“Where is that terrible, that miser-r-rahle dog! ’ ’ panted the swarthy one, glaring about him.

“That’s all right,” Tom answered composedly. “There isn’t any dog.”

“But—but I heard him,” protested the other, still nervous, as he stared suspiciously around him. “The wr-r-retched animal sprang for me. His teeth almost grazed my leg. ”

Such was the power of imagination—a fine tribute to Tom’s skill as a mimic.

“Aren’t you thinking of the other night, over at Wood’s Hole, when you tried to get aboard the ‘Meteor’ to wreck the engine!”

Halstead shot this question out with disconcerting suddenness. The young skipper looked straight, keenly, into the other’s eyes, standing

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so that he could prevent the stranger ’s sudden bolt from the pier.

111 ! What do you talk about I ’ ’ demanded the foreigner, pretending astonishment.

11 Oh, I know all about you,’ 9 nodded Tom. “You’re the party.”

1 ‘Be careful, boy! You insult me!” cried the other angrily.

“That’s all right, then,” Tom went on coolly. “Now maybe I’m going to insult you a little more. The trouble is, I need information, and you’re the best one to give it to me. Where’s Ted Dunstanf”

“I—I—you-” stammered the foreigner.

“WHiat do I know about Ted Dunstan! No, no, no! You are wrong. I have not seen the boy —do not know him.”

“Yet you appear to know that he is a boy,” insisted Tom sternly. “Come, now, if you won’t talk with me you’d better walk along with me, and we’ll find some one you’ll be more willing to answer.”

“How! I walk with you! Boy, do not be a fool,” retorted the swarthy one angrily. “I shall not walk with you. I do not like your company.”

“I’m not sure that I like yours, either,” retorted the b6y. “But there are times when I cannot afford to be particular. Come, ■why

60 THE MOTOKf BOAT CLUB

should you object to walking along with me? All I propose is that we find the nearest constable and that you answer his questions. The constable will decide whether to hold you or not.”

“Step aside,” commanded the swarthy man imperiously. Full of outraged dignity he attempted to brush past the young skipper. But Tom Halstead, both firm and cool, now that his mind was made up, took a grip on the fellow’s left arm.

* ‘ Take your hand off! Let me go! ” screamed the fellow, his eyes ablaze with passion. “Out of my way, idiot, and take yourself off! ”

As the swarthy one struggled to free himself Tom only tightened his grip, much as the bull pup would have done.

“Don’t be disagreeable,” urged Tom. “Come, my request is a very proper one. I’m only asking you to go before one of the officers of the law. No honest man can really object to that.”

' “You ” screamed the foreigner.

He shot his right hand suddenly into a jacket pocket. But Tom, watching every movement alertly, let go of the fellow’s left arm, making a bound and seizing his right arm with both strong hands. There was a fierce struggle, but Halstead’s muscles had been toughened by exer-

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cise and by many days of hard work at a steering wheel in rough weather. This slight man from another country was no match for the American hoy.

Down they went to the flooring of the pier with a crash, but young Halstead was uppermost. In another twinkling he was bending the swarthy one’s right arm until that fellow was ready to sue for a truce.

Tom now held him helpless, kneeling on him.

“What were you trying to fish out of that jacket pocket?” demanded the young motor boat captain, thrusting his own hand in. He drew out something and held it up briefly—a clasp knife.

“A coward’s tool!” uttered Tom, his voice ringing scornfully. Then he threw the clasp knife far out so that it splashed in the water. “WThy don’t you cultivate a man’s muscle and fight like a man, instead of toting around things like that? Come, get up on your feet.”

Bounding up, Halstead yanked the other upright. In a twinkling the swarthy man broke from him, sprinting off the pier.

“You haven?t learned, to run right, either,” grinned Halstead, dashing after the “pirate” and gripping a hand in his collar.

That brought them facing each other again. How the swarthy one glared at his resolute

62 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

young captor! They were about of a height, these two, and might have weighed about the same. But the man possessed nowhere near the strength of this sea-toughened hoy.

“Now see here,” spoke Tom more pleasantly, “I’m doing what I think is right or I wouldn’t venture to he so rough. Walk along with me sensibly, until we can find out where a constable lives. I’ve got the best of you and you realize I can do it again. But I don’t want to be rough with you. It goes against the grain. ’ ’

The swarthy one’s only answer was to glare at the young skipper witlr a look full of hate. Tom suddenly changed his tone.

“I know what you’re thinking of, my man,” he cried tauntingly. “You are just thinking to yourself what a fine time you’d have with me if you had me down in Honduras—where your friends do things in a different way!”

The taunt told, for the stranger’s eyes gleamed with malice.

“Ah, in good Honduras!” he hissed. “Yes,

if I had you there, and -”

He stopped as suddenly as he had begun.

‘ ‘ That ’s just what I wanted to know, ’ ’ mocked Halstead. “Honduras is your country, and now I know to a dot why you’re interested in having Ted Dunstan vanish and stay vanished for a

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while. Come along, now. We’ll keep right 011 until we find that constable!”

Tom seized the stranger’s right arm in earnest now. The other held back, as though he would resist, hut suddenly changed his mind.

“You are somewhat the stronger — with hands,” he said in an ugly tone. “So I shall go with you. But perhaps you will much regret what you are doing to-night.”

“Oh, I hope not,” Tom jeered cheerily. “At all events I’m doing the best I know how. And I’m glad you’re not going to make any fuss. I hate to he cranky with anyone.”

The place to which the pier belonged looked, from what Tom had been able to see of it, like a run-down coast farm. Away up on a hill to the left were a dilapidated old farm house and other buildings. Halstead feared, though, that the stranger might have friends up at that house and so decided to keep 011 through the woods at the right.

Before long they struck a fairly well defined road through the forest, a road that looked as though it might lead to somewhere in particular.

“We’ll keep right on along this road, if you don’t mind,” said the boy. He kept now only a fair hold of the other’s wrist. As the swarthy one offered no opposition, they made passably

64 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

good speed over the road. But Tom, though he looked unconcerned, was wholly on the alert for any sudden move on the part of his captive.

“If I find I’m wholly in the wrong,” said Tom pleasantly, after they had gone at least a quarter of a mile in this fashion, “there isn’t anyone in the whole United States who’d be more glad to make a complete apology.”

“But that will not save you from trouble,” breathed the swarthy one angrily. “The laws of your country do not allow such high-handed deeds as you have been guilty of.”

“Down in Honduras the laws are a bit different, aren’t they?” asked Halstead very pleasantly.

“Down in Honduras, they ”

The swarthy one checked himself suddenly. “That is the second time you have asked me about Honduras, ’’ he went on presently. “Why do you say so much about Honduras ? ’ ’

“I’ve trapped you into admitting that it’s your country,” laughed Halstead. - “And that tells me, too, why you are so interested in having Ted Dunstan kept out of sight for the next few days.”

“What’s all this talk about Honduras?” demanded a gruff voice. The challenge made both jump. A stocky figure stepped alertly out from behind a tree. It was the solidly built,

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florid-faced man—the other of the pair Tom had first seen in the seat ahead.

“Oh, yon, yon, yon!” cried the swarthy one delightedly, as he wrenched his captive wrist free from Halstead’s weakening clutch. “Yon have appeared in time, my friend!”

“ So ? ’ ’ roared the florid-faced one, taking a business-like grip of Tom Halstead’s collar. “What was this young cub doing1?”

“Doing?” cried the swarthy one, dancing in his wrath, his eyes gleaming like coals. “He had the impudence, this boy, to say he would take me to a constable. He insists that I know all about one Ted Dunstan. ”

“Does, eh?” growled the powerful, floridfaced one, giving Tom a mighty shake. “Then we’ll take care of this young man! Oh, we’ll give him a pleasant time!”

“Yes, yes! Just as we would in Honduras!” laughed the swarthy one gleefully. “He has been asking much, just now, about the way they do things in Honduras.”

“Then he’ll be sure to be just the lad who’ll appreciate a little information at first hand!” jeered Tom’s captor.

5—Motor Boat Club at Nantucket.

66 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

CHAPTER VI

TOM HAS A BAD QUARTER . OF AH HOUR

“    0 the youngster was going to be fligh

ty banded witb ye, was be?” demanded tbe florid-faced one, and despite the intense darkness there in tbe woods, Tom Halstead could see tbe ugly gleam in his strong-banded captor ’s eyes.

Tbe swarthy one stepped to tbe other side of his friend and whispered something in that worthy’s ear. It was a rather long communicar tion. Though he tried with all his might to overhear some of it, Halstead could not distinguish a single word. Yet, as the narration proceeded, Tom felt that powerful grip on his coat collar increase in intensity.

“Well, we’ll take care of you, youngster,” declared the florid-faced one at last. “You’re too big a nuisance to have at large! And as you’ve been giving your time to other folks’ business, we ’11 take good care of your time after this! Come along now! ”

Tom had not tried to resist and for a most excellent reason. He well knew that his present captor could fell him like a log. Here no con-

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test of muscles was to be thought of. Craft must be substituted for strength.

In the boy’s brain revolved swiftly many plans for escape. Just as the florid-faced one started to force him over the path lately taken the right idea came to the young captive. He puckered his lips, emitting a shrill whistle.

Nor had he guessed wrongly. There was an echo here. Back on the air came almost the exact duplicate of the whistle Halstead had let loose.

In a jiffy both of his captors halted. Perhaps they suspected it to be only an echo, but they wanted to make sure.

Quicker than a flash, though,' before they could make any tests for themselves, Halstead shouted:

“Fine! Bush ’em quick, fellows! Jump on ’em and hold ’em down. Don’t let either rascal get away!”

His voice was so joyous, so exultant, that it completely fooled the pair for an instant. Though the florid-faced one did not release the tightness of his grip on the young skipper’s coat collar, he, like the swarthy one, used his eyes to look about in all directions.

That moment was enough for Tom Halstead, doubly quick-witted in his peril. His hands flew up the front of his uniform coat, ripping buttons

68 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

out of button boles at one swift move. Wrench! Tom slipped out of bis coat, springing abead under tbe trees.

“Here, you! Come back here!” roared tbe florid-faced one absurdty, as be plunged after the young fugitive. Tbe swarthy one, too, joined in tbe chase, freeing himself of a torrent of Spanish, words.

Tom Halstead bad just a few seconds’ start, aided by tbe darkness that enveloped them all. A hundred yards or so Tom dashed, rather noisily. Then, off at right angles to his former course he sped on tip-toe, nor did he go much more than fifty yards ere he landed up against a straight tree whose low-lianging limbs bore an abundant foliage.

Up this tree-trunk, without hesitation, shinned the young skipper, drawing himself well up among the leaves in what he felt must be record time for such a feat.

For a few moments more he could hear his pursuers stumbling along the wrong course. Then he knew, by the sounds, that they had turned back and were keeping well apart in the hope of covering more ground. But the uncertainty of their steps, however, told the boy up the tree that his pursuers were wholly off the trail and giving up the chase. Then, veering, the florid-faced man and the swarthy one came

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toward each other. They halted almost squarely under the tree that held young Halstead.

Tom’s first, throbbing thought was that they had tracked him here. He did not stir, hut the grim lines around his month deepened. Let them try to get him then. They wonld have to climb the tree to get at him and he ;meaht to make nse of his hands and feet in defending himself.

“I can give them all they want for a while,” he told himself between his teeth. In fact, in his excitement he all but made his remark half aloud.

“Well, he’s got away from us, all right,” growled the florid-faced one in a tone of mingled disappointment and rage.

“We shall at least know him well after this,” sighed the swarthy one in a sinister tone.

“And I hope you’ll have your wish,” flared listening Tom indignantly, “though I’ll try to control the time and place of meeting.”

“I’d rather have lost a thousand dollars than that boy,” went on the larger man gruffly.

“A thousand?” sneered the other. “Diablo! I’d give five thousand to have him in our hands this moment.”

“And I believe I’d give more,” echoed Tom silently, “to keep out of your clutches—if I had the money.”

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Then, drawing closely together, the pair conversed in whispers. Again Tom groaned over his hearing which, keen as it was, conld get nothing connected from the low tones of the pair on the gronnd. Whatever they were saying, these plotters mnst be terribly in earnest over something. In his eagerness Tom bent too far forward. His foot slipped. Frantically he clntched at a branch overhead to save himself from plunging to the gronnd. Of course the move made some noise.

11 Diablo! What was that? And so close, too! ’ ’ demanded the smaller man.

“What?” demanded the larger man.

“That noise! Some one must be prowling about here,” continued the swarthy one in a whisper just loud enough to reach Tom’s ears.

As he spoke the Spaniard’s head turned in such a way as to show that he was looking up into the tree in which Tom stood. It was becoming a truly bad quarter of an hour for the boy.

“I heard nothing,” said the other one gruffly. “Leastways, nothing more than some night animal stirring, maybe.”

“Let’s make a search of these trees,” proposed the Spaniard.

Tom shivered. Danger was again coming much too close to please him.

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“Come along,” rejoined the florid-faced one impatiently. “We’re wasting too mncli time, listening to the whisperings of the wind. Come along, Alvarez.”

After a brief objection the one addressed as Alvarez turned and stepped oft with his friend. They had not gone far when Tom Halstead slipped' down the tree trunk. Alarmed as he had been when danger threatened most, he now knew that he must follow them.

‘ ‘ For they may lead me straight to Ted Dun-stan,” he thought eagerly.

Naturally he did not think it wise to get too close to the pair. Captured again, Tom Halstead knew that he was not likely to be able to be of any further service to his employer. Besides, in escaping and leaving his coat in the hands of the enemy he now remembered how his white shirt might betray him if he got too close to them.

“It’s a wonder they didn’t see all this white when I was up in the tree, ’ ’ he muttered, as he stole along in pursuit. “The leaves must have covered me mighty well.”

For perhaps five minutes Halstead kept steadily behind the pair, guiding himself by the distant sound of their steps, for they did not keep to any path. Then suddenly the boy halted. The noise of footsteps ahead had died

72 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

out. Tom stood, silent, expectant, but no sound came to bis ears in the next two or three minutes. Then a disagreeable conclusion forced itself on the young skipper’s mind.

“Gracious! They’ve slipped away from me or else they’re at the end of their tramp.”

Again Halstead stole forward on tiptoe. But, though he spent nearly the next half-hour in exploring, he found nothing to reward his search. He came at last to a road which he judged to be the same one along which he had started with the Spaniard. Taking his course from the stars, seaman fashion, Halstead kept along. Within ten minutes he was upon a road that looked like a highway.

11 Say, b’ut how good that sounds! ” he thrilled, suddenly halting. He had the presence of mind next to slip behind the trunk of a big tree.

A horse was moving lazily along the road. There was the sound of wheels, too, though above all rose a cheery whistling, as though the owner of that pair of lips were the happiest mortal alive. It was a good, contented whistling. It had about it, too, the ring of honesty. The cheery sound made Tom Halstead feel faith at once in the owner of that- whistle.

Then there came into sight a plain, much-worn open buggy, drawn by a sleek-looking gray horse. Seated in the vehicle was a youngster

AT NANTUCKET    '    ,    73

of about Tom’s own age, who looked much like a farmer’s boy. He had no coat on, his suspenders being much in evidence. On his head he wore a nondescript, broad-brimmed straw hat of the kind used by haymakers. At least it looked as though it might once have been that sort of a hat, but its shape was gone. From where Halstead stood not much of a glimpse could be had of the boy’s face.

“Good evening, friend,” Tom hailed, stepping out from behind the tree.

“Evening! Who-o-oa!” The other boy reined up, peering down through the semidarkness. “Want a lift?”

“Just what, if it happens that you’re headed toward the town of Nantucket,” Tom replied.

“That’s just where I’m headed. But hold on—gracious! I came within an ace of forgetting. I’ve got to turn back and drive to Sanderson’s for a basket of eggs. Won’t take me long, though. Pile in.”

Tom gladly accepted the invitation. After his late experiences it seemed good to be again with some one who appeared to be wholesome and friendly. The other boy turned about, laying the whip lightly over the horse.

“Look as if you were off of some yacht,” commented the other boy, noting Halstead’s blue trousers and cap.

74 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

“I’m the skipper at present on Mr. Dunstan’s ‘Meteor,’ ” Tom explained.

“Say, that’s the man whose son disappeared to-day,” exclaimed the other hoy.

“Then you’ve heard about it?”

“Yep; it’s all over the island now, I guess. Constables been going everywhere and asking a heap of questions. Have they found young Ted?”

“I’m afraid not,” sighed Tom.

“Too bad. But who could have wanted him to disappear?”

“That’s a long story,” Tom answered discreetly. “But say, where are you going?”

For the young driver was turning off the road to go to the very farmhouse to which the pier seemed to belong.

“To Sanderson’s, as I told you,” replied the other boy.

“Does that pier down at the water front belong to him?”

“Yep, though I guess he don’t have much use for it.”

“What sort of man is Sanderson?”

“Good enough sort, I guess.”

“What does he do for a living?”

“He farms some, but I guess that don’t amount to a lot,” replied the young driver. “I hear he’s going into some new kind of busi-

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ness this fall. Some kind of a factory he’s going to build on the place. I know he’s been having a lot of cases of machinery come over on the boat from Wood’s Hole lately.” “Machinery?” echoed Halstead. Somehow, from the first, that word struck a strange note within him.

“There’s Sanderson, now,” continued the young driver, pointing toward the house with his whip.

Then the buggy drew up alongside the back porch. Halstead had plenty of chance to study this farmer as he greeted the young driver: “Hullo, Jed Prentiss. After them eggs?” “Yes; and nearly forgot ’em.”

“I reckoned you’d be along about now. Well, I’ll get ’em.”

Farmer Sanderson appeared to be about fifty years of age. He would have been rather tall if so much of his lanky height had not been turned over in a decided stoop of the shoulders. He had a rough, weather-beaten skin that seemed to match his rough jean overalls and flannel shirt. The most noticeable thing' about this man was the keenness of his eyes. As the farmer came out again to put the basket of eggs in the back of the buggy Tom Halstead asked suddenly :

“Do you know a man who looks like a Span-

76 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

iard and wears brown striped tronsers and a black coat?”

Farmer Sanderson, so the yonng Captain thought, gave a slight start. Then he unconcernedly placed the basket in the buggy before he answered:

“Can’t say as I know such a party. But I’ve seen a fellow that answered that description.” “When, if I may ask, and where?”

“ Why, late this afternoon I saw such a party hanging around my pier. I s’posed, he was fishing, but I didn’t go down to ask any questions. ”

Tom put a few more queries, though without betraying too deep an interest. Farmer Sanderson answered with an appearance of utter frankness, but Tom learned nothing from the replies.

“I wonder,” ventured Jed Prentiss, after they had driven some distance along the road, “whether you think your Spanish-looking party had anything to do with Ted Dunstan’s being missing?”

Tom laughed good-naturedly, but made no reply, thinking that the easiest way of turning off the question.    ■    .

“Say,” broke in Jed again after a while, “I wish you could get me a job aboard the ‘Meteor.’”

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“What kind of a job?” inquired the young captain.

“Why, I’m generally handy aboard a boat. Been ont on fishing craft a good deal. The job I struck-Mr. Dunstan for, some weeks ago, was that of steward. You see, I’m a pretty fair sea cook, too. But Mr. Dunstan said he didn’t need a steward or a cook aboard. I wonder if he’d change his mind. ”

‘ ‘ He might, ’ ’ replied Tom.

“Do you think you’d like to have me aboard?”

“From what I’ve seen of you, Jed, I think I would,” replied Tom Halstead heartily. “At any rate, I’ll speak to Mr. Dunstan about you. ’ “Will you, though?” cried Jed delightedly. “Say, I’d give my head—no, but the hair off the top of my head—to go cruising about on the ‘Meteor.’ It must be a king’s life.”

“It is,” Tom assented.

Then, for some time, the two boys were silent. But at last Tom Halstead, after some intense thinking, burst out almost explosively: “Machinery? Great Scott!”

< ‘ Er—eh ? ’ ’ queried Jed, looking at him in surprise.

“Oh, nothing,” returned the young skipper evasively. “Just forget that you heard me say anything, will you?”

78 THE MOTOB BOAT CLUB

'“Sure,” nodded Jed obligingly. Soon after, they drove into the quaint little old seaport, summer-resort town, Nantucket. Tom’s glance alighted on a bicycle shop, still open. Thanking Jed heartily for the lift, Halstead hurried into the shop. He succeeded in renting a bicycle, agreeing that it should be returned in the morning. Then, after some inquiries as to the road, Tom set out, pedaling swiftly.

He got off the road once, but in the end found the Dunstan place all right. At the gateway to the grounds Halstead dismounted. For a few moments he stood looking up at the house, only a part of which was lighted.

‘ ‘ Machinery ? ’ ’ repeated the young skipper to himself, for the twentieth time. “Machinery? Eh? Oh, but we want to know all about that, and, what’s more, we’ve got to know. Machinery! It pieces in with some other facts that have come out to-day.”

Then mindful of the fact that the news he bore was, or should be, of great importance to the distracted master of the house beyond, Tom Halstead, instead of remounting, pushed his wheel along as he walked briskly up the driveway.

“Machinery!” he muttered once more under his breath. He could not rid himself of the magic of that word.

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79

Yet it was a huge pity that the young motor boat captain could not have possessed sharp enough vision to see into the heart of a dense clump of lilac bushes that bordered the driveway. Had his vision been that keen he would have seen his very Spaniard crouched low in the clump.

That worthy saw the boy and watched him with baleful, gleaming eyes. It was a look that boded no good to the young skipper.

“You are too wise, young gringo, and, besides, you have' struck me down,” growled Alvarez. “But we shall take care of you. You shall do no more harm!”

CHAPTER YII

“the quickest way op walking the plank”

IT was Tuesday when Ted Dunstan disappeared. Now, Saturday had arrived. On Monday the heir must appear, with his father, in the probate court, or the great fortune would he forever lost to the young man.

The days from Tuesday to Saturday had been full of suspense and torment to those most interested. Horace Dunstan had lost his easy-going air. He started at the slightest sound; he hurried up whenever he heard others

80 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

talking. Every new sound gave him hope that his son was about to appear in the flesh.

Par from slow had the search been. Mr. Dunstan’s messages had brought a score of detectives to the scene. Some of these, aided by the local constables, had scoured the island of Nantucket unavailingly. The greater number of the detectives, however, had operated on the mainland, their operations extending even to Boston and New York.

Yet not a sign of the missing boy had been found. There was not a single clew to his fate, beyond the little that Tom Halstead and Joe Dawson had been able to tell concerning Alvarez and the florid-faced American.

Halstead’s notion about Farmer Sanderson’s “machinery” had crystallized into the belief that the cases of “machinery” received by the farmer were in reality cases of arms and ammunition, intended to be shipped to aid some new revolution in Honduras. Alvarez and the florid-faced man, the latter undoubtedly a seafaring man, might justly be suspected of being employed in some scheme to smuggle military supplies to Honduras. Tom had read in the newspapers, more than once, that filibusters sending military supplies to Central American republics label their cases of goods “machinery” in order to get past vigilant eyes unsus-

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pected. Gregory Dunstan was known to be interested in revolutionary movements, and Parmer Sanderson miglit be suspected of helping Alvarez and other filibusters by having arms and ammunition shipped to him as machinery, and afterwards slipped out of the country from the end of the farmer’s pier on some dark, stormy night. Moreover, Gregory Dunstan and his friends were the sole ones who could be interested in having Master Ted vanish at such a time. All parts of the theory fitted nicely together, Tom thought, and Horace Dustan agreed with him.

Yet anything relating to attempts by filibusters to ship anus secretly to another country should be brought to the notice of the United Slates Government. So Mr. Dunstan wrote fully to the authorities at Washington, who, so far, had not taken the pains to reply to his communication.

During these days the “Meteor” had been almost constantly in service. Tom and Joe felt nearly used up, so incessant had been their work. Jed Prentiss was now aboard, for, with detectives arriving and departing at all hours, there was frequently need of serving a visitor with a meal while the “Meteor” dashed over the waves to or from Nantucket. Jed was enjoying himself despite his long hours and hard

6—Motor Beat Club at .\ar.tucket.

; 82 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

work. He even found time to hang about Joe and learn much about the running of the motor.

By Saturday noon Horace Dunstan, who seemed to have aged much, gave up the notion that his detectives could aid him at Nantucket. The last three on the island were sent over to Wood’s Hole on the “Meteor,” with instructions to help the men at work on the case on the mainland.

“Thank goodness, we’re through with ’em,” grunted Jed, leaving the galley and coming up through the engine room hatchway. “I hope we’ll get a breathing spell to-morrow.”

“We’ve had a brisk four days of it,” nodded Tom. “I wouldn’t mind that at all, if only we had gotten any nearer to finding Ted. But all this work and nothing gained is enough to wear a fellow out.”    -

It was a part of Tom’s nature that he felt keenly all of his employer’s worries over the missing Ted. It worried Halstead, too, to think of any boy hopelessly losing such a huge fortune as was at stake.

“If only we could find Alvarez, and get a good grip on him,” growled Halstead, as Joe came up on deck, “I’d feel almost warranted in torturing him until he told all he knew.”

Joe nodded gravely, then suddenly grinned.

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“I can imagine anyone as big-hearted as yon are, Tom, putting any human being to the torture. ’ ’

“I said I’d almost be willing to,” insisted Tom.

“Well, you won’t find Alvarez, so what’s the use of arguing?” asked Dawson, slowly. “He and his red-faced friend have skipped away from this part of the country, I believe. ’ ’

“And Mr. Dunstan has only until Monday,” sighed Halstead. “And Ted to lose millions! Did you ever hear of a case of such tough luck before?”

Jed began to whistle sympathetically. He, too, would have given worlds to be able to pounce upon the vanished Ted. For young Prentiss was all loyalty. Having entered the Dunstan employ, he felt all the sorrows of the family. The more he thought about the affair the more restless the whistling boy became.1

“How long are we tied up here for?” demanded Jed, at last.

“Until the late afternoon train gets in from Boston,” Tom answered, listlessly. “Mr. Dunstan is expecting Mr. Crane, his lawyer, along. If Mr. Crane doesn’t arrive we’ve got to come over again to-morrow morning.”

Jed glanced at the clock before the steering wheel.

84 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

“Hours to wait,” he went on, dismally. “Well, I’m going ashore to stretch my legs, if there’s no objection.”

“Hone at all,” Halstead replied, “if you’re hack on time. ”

Jed was over the rail in no time, whistling as he went. A few minutes later Tom Halstead found himself bored by this inactive waiting, and so, as Joe had some cleaning to do on the engine, the young skipper decided to take a stroll ashore.

In the village all looked so decidedly dull, this hot July afternoon, that Tom walked on through and beyond the little place. After he had gone the better part of a mile he seated himself on a tumble-down hit of stone wall between two big trees. It was cool here, and shady. The drone of insects soon made the hoy feel drowsy.

“Here, there mustn’t he any of this,” muttered Halstead, shaking himself awake. ‘ ‘ I mustn’t fail to get back to the boat on time.” After that he was wide awake. But the green, the quiet and the cool air made the young captain feel that he did not care to leave, this spot until it was necessary. For perhaps fif-ten minutes more he sat chewing at a wisp of grass and thinking—always of the missing heir.

AT NANTUCKET    85

Then the sound of a short little cough made him look up. Some one was coming along the road. That some one came in sight. Almost choking with astonishment, Halstead went backward over the wall. It looked as though he had fallen, hut it was all part of his frantic wish to get out of sight.

“Alvarez, by all that’s unbelievable!” he gasped, as he lay utterly still behind that wall. “It doesn’t look like him, but it’s his size, his carriage, his walk, his little tickling cough as he inhales his cigarette! ”

The man was coming nearer, walking at a steady though not rapid gait. Tom hugged himself as close to the ground as he could, peering between two stones in the wall. For an instant, as the other went by, Halstead had a good glimpse of the fellow. Where Alvarez had but a moustache, this man had a full black beard. Gone were the brown striped trousers, for this man wore a blue serge suit. But the face was swarthy; there was the same gleam in the dark eyes. Even the way of holding the fuming little cigarette was the same.

“It’s Alvarez, or his double, disguised,” breathed Halstead, frantic with joy. “I’ll jump on him, and pin him to the earth!”

On swift second thought the excited boy changed his mind. It might serve a far bigger

86 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

purpose to follow this swarthy little rascal, if he could do so undetected.

Alvarez, apparently, wasn’t suspicious of being trailed, for he kept steadily on. Halstead followed on the other side of the wall, ready to drop out of sight at the first sign of the other’s turning. When the wall ended the hoy found other shelter, and followed on. It was but a short chase. A quarter of a mile further on the Spaniard left the road, pushing his way through the bushes and undergrowth of a patch of woods until he came to a small, almost hid--den cove. And in this cove, her stern within stepping distance of the land, lay a yellowhulled steam launch.

Tom sank low behind the bushes, and" peered through. He could see all that followed.

“Pedro!” called Alvarez, softly.

A man who had been dozing up in a seat by, . the bow of the boat now awoke and turned, displaying the face of a negro. He was a big and strong built fellow. And Tom, the instant he heard that low call from the bearded stranger, knew it to be Alvarez’s voice.

Pedro hurried to the stern. Some talk between the two followed, but in tones so low that Halstead could understand not a word of it, until the Spaniard, half turning away, finished by saying:

AT NANTUCKET    87

“I’ll be back soon. Be ready—and be watchful.”

Tbe negro nodded heavily as the Spaniard started away. But this time Tom Halstead made no effort to follow the swarthy one. If the Spaniard was to return, that would not be necessary.

‘ ‘ I wonder how fast I can return to Nantucket, and then be ready to chase this craft when she shows her nose outside!” wondered the boy. “For it’s five to one this launch will make for Alvarez’s hiding-place, and that is where Ted Dunstan is to be found. Yet.—confound it all! —if I give chase in the ‘Meteor,’ Alvarez certainly won’t lead us to the place.”

It was a puzzling, an immense problem. And whatever was to be done must be decided upon instantly. While Halstead still pondered, a cheering sound came to his ears. “Whirr-ugh! Whirr-ugh! ’ ’ The negro, in his former seat at the bow of the launch had proved his watchfulness by going sound asleep and snoring!

“Oh! If I could only get through to Alvarez’s hiding-place on this boat!” thought Tom wildly, his breath coming hard and fast. No time was to be wasted in doing nothing. Assuring himself that the negro was still soundly asleep, Halstead stepped forward, cat-footed.

Still the black guardian of the boat slum-

88 THE- MOTOR BOAT CLUB

bered. Tom, as be reached the water’s edge, prayed that nothing would disturb the fellow’s sleep... The launch was not a cabin affair, but there was a covered deck at the bow, and, under it, a hatchway leading into a little cubby. As the negro sat sleeping, his legs' crossed squarely before the entrance to that cubby. Then Halstead edged around until he made sure that there was another little cubby under the stern-sheets of the launch.

“If I could only get in there and hide!” breathed the young skipper, fervently. Hardly had he formed the wish when he stepped stealthily to the boat. His eyes watchfully on the negro, Tom gained the stern hatch. He bent down before it to inspect the space beyond. The space in there was small, and much of it taken up by the propeller shaft boxing. It looked like taking a desperate chance to try to fold himself up in that tiny space.

“But this is a time to take desperate chances!” gritted the young motor boat captain. “And it’s the only chance I see that looks good!”

Another glance at the snoring negro, and Tom Halstead stealthily worked his feet in through the hatchway. His body followed. He twisted and wriggled until he had got himself as far back into the limited space as was possi-

AT NANTUCKET    89

ble. His head was where he could gaze out into the cockpit of the launch.

“I know just what a sardine feels like, anyway, after the packer gets through with it,” reflected the boy, dryly. He stretched a little, to avoid as much as possible the cramping ofdiis body.

Then he had a wait of many minutes, though at last the hail of Alvarez was heard from the shore. It took a second call to rouse the sleeping Pedro.

“Now, quick out of this,” ordered the Spaniard. ‘ ‘ Get up the anchor. Then take your place by the engine. ’ ’

Alvarez himself went forward to the wheel at the bow. The launch was soon under way, moving at what appeared to be its usual speed, about six miles an hour.

“Neither one has seen me in here,” thought Tom, tensely. “Oh, what huge luck if they go through the trip without seeing me! ”

Though Halstead could not even guess it, from where he lay, the launch took a north- -easterly course along the coast, and was presently about two miles from shore.

“Pedro,” chuckled the Spaniard, at last, looking back at the negro who squatted by the engine, “if my own father saw me now would he know me for Emilio Alvarez! Would he!”

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90

“He’d be a wondahful smart man if he did, fo ’ shnah, ’ ’ grinned the negro.

“In this disguise I would hardly be afraid to walk about in Nantucket,” continued Senor Alvarez. “I doubt if any of my enemies would recognize me. They ”

Alvarez’s lips shut suddenly with a snap. While he was speaking he had been looking astern. Tom Halstead now squirmed as he saw the Spaniard’s startled gaze fixed directly on him.

“Pedro!” shouted the swarthy one. “Look sharp, man. There’s some one in that cubby astern!”

Alvarez had started himself to leave the wheel. Then, realizing that the boat would run wild without some one at the helm, he pointed dramatically.

Though Halstead had trusted to the darkness and the shadow in that cubby, the discovery that he dreaded had happened. Not willing to be caught in there, like a fox in a trap, he made a lively scramble to get out. He was on his feet in the cockpit by . the time that Pedro, staring as though at a ghost, leaped up and faced him.

“Grab the boy!” shouted Alvarez in glee. “Nab him and hold him fast. Pedro, you shall have a present for this!”

As Halstead scrambled out he had looked for

AT NANTUCKET    91

some object with which to defend himself. There was nothing at hand. He was obliged to face his bigger assailant with nothing but his fists.

“Keep off!” warned. Halstead, throwing up his guard.

As the negro leaped for him Tom shot out his left fist, landing on the side of the black man’s head. The blow had no effect, save that it angered Pedro, who struck out with his own right. It was a powerful blow. Halstead dodged so that he received it only glancinglv, but the act of dodging threw him off his balance. He toppled, then plunged swiftly overboard, sinking from sight.

“Stop the engine! I want him alive!” screamed Alvarez, leaping away from the wheel.

Pedro responded swiftly, stopping the speed, then reversing the engine briefly. The launch was brought to, almost stationary, close to the place where Tom Halstead had fallen overboard.

“Get the boat hook,” commanded Alvarez. “Jump in after him if necessary. I want that meddling boy. I’ve a score to settle with him.”

But, though both remained at the rail for some time, peering down into the water, Tom Halstead did not reappear.

“Fo’ goodness’ sake,” chattered the black

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man soberly, “dat boy done sink, fo’ shuah. He ain’t gwine come back, boss.”

“The propeller must have struck him on the head,” declared Alvarez thoughtfully. Then, with a white face and an attempt at a light laugh, he added:

“After all, what does it matter, Pedro? That’s the quickest way of walking the plank. We didn’t mean to drown him—but we’re rid of his meddling! ’ ’

CHAPTER VIII

TOM DISCOVERS THE HEIR

TOM HALSTEAD wasn’t drowned—not quite. The wicked seldom find safety in believing that their evil work has come out in the way that will most benefit them. We shall presently see what did happen to Tom.

Although he tried to pretend that he was not affected by the tragedy that he believed had just been enacted, Senor Alvarez, when he returned to his seat by the wheel, did not at once call for speed ahead. Instead he rolled a fresh cigarette with trembling fingers, spilling so much of the tobacco that he had to make a fresh start. When, at last, he had the thing lighted and had

AT NANTUCKET    93

taken a couple of whiffs, he turned to the black man to ask:

“After all, Pedro, what difference can it make if the meddling boy chose the ocean to our company? Am I not a gentleman of Honduras, Don Emilio Alvarez? Am I not descended from Spanish grandees? Why should I bother my head because one of the American riff-raff has gone overboard?”

“Dat’s a fae’, boss. Why should yo’ bother yo’ haid?” responded Pedro, though he did not say it very heartily.

Don Emilio smoked for some moments in silence. Then the sight of a cabin sloop rounding a point of land to the northeast of them claimed his attention.

“Pedro,” he called, pointing, “that sloop carries the red jack fluttering from her bowsprit tip. That, then, is our boat.”

“Fo’ shuah, boss. An’ I done hope dat Cap’n Jonas French done got some good news ob de kind dat we wanter heah.”

‘ ‘ Give us some speed and we ’11 soon be alongside the sloop. ”

The launch was soon going along at her usual speed of some six miles an hour, veering in shore somewhat to cross the course of the sloop. As they came to close quarters a voice from the other boat called:

94 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

‘ ‘ The news is all right, Alvarez. ”

It was the voice of the florid-faced one, yet he, too, had changed almost as much as had the gentleman from Honduras. Captain French’s cheeks were no longer deep red in color. His skin had more of a bronze hue. As such changes do not occur naturally within a few days, it was evident that the captain must have employed some dye with much skilL Even the tint of his hair was changed.

“I have something to discuss with you, my friend,” replied Don Emilio. “I will come aboard for a while. Throw off your mainsheet and lie to, so that I can oome alongside.”

Pedro slowed down the speed considerably. Don Emilio, with a skill that spoke of some practice, ran the launch around to leeward and up under the sloop’s quarter. The two craft touched lightly and at that instant Alvarez stepped aboard the sloop. Pedro, with his hand on the starboard wheel rope, eased gently away from the sailing sloop.

“Now run into the cove, Pedro,” called hack Don Emilio. “Wait there until I come to you, unless danger threatens. If you see signs of trouble, act in whatever way you may need to act. ’ ’

“I’se understand yo’, boss,” replied the black man.

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As Captain Jonas French hauled in his main-sheet and the sloop’s sail filled, Pedro made obliquely for shore. Having no need of speed, he made less demand on tire engine than he had been doing.

Some time later Pedro ran halfway into a little cove that dented the mainland of Massachusetts. Stopping the speed he stepped forward and cast over an anchor, reeling in the slack and making fast. This done, the darky drew out an old pipe, filled it and lighted it, settling back for a lazy smoke.

And Tom Halstead? He was doing his best not to pant and betray himself, but his had been a rough experience/ None but a boy as much at home in the water as on land could have stood the strain of this performance.

When Tom went overboard, striking the water, the cold shock had aroused all his faculties. He went over the starboard gunwale and, finding himself going, had had the sense to dive as deeply as he could. He passed under the hull, coming out at port. Then he turned, keeping still under water until one of his hands touched the port side of the hull.

Just as this happened Halstead’s other hand struck a line trailing in the water. Then the boy was forced to come up for air. As he did so he heai’d the voices of the pair aboard over

96 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

at the starboard gunwale. That gave Tom a safe- chance to give the trailing rope a pnll. It held, showing that it was made fast on board.

Necessity makes one think fast. To Tom the discovery of this rope was a most unexpected bit of good fortune. As soon as he had time to get his breath he tied a loop in it securely. Through this he could thrust one or both arms, at need.

The trailing overboard of a line in this fashion was a piece of disorderly ship ’s housekeeping of which an American skipper would hardly be guilty. But the sailors of the Latin races are less particular. That line might have been over the gunwale for hours or even days, but a man like Alvarez would give little heed to it.

When the launch went on her way again Tom had his right arm hooked well through the loop. He.floated, his feet astern along the side, though in no danger from rudder or propeller. His head, out of water, was hidden by the bulging lines of the launch’s side hull. He was not likely to be discovered unless one of the occupants of the launch leaned well out and looked down.

“If only they’d run a little slower this would be about as easy as lying in a soft bed, ’ ’ chuckled the young motor boat captain gleefully. He had grinned broadly at Bon Emilio’s seeming unconcern over his fate.

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97

“I reckon where they go I’m going too,” Halstead told himself with great satisfaction. His clothing, filled with water, would have been uncomfortable, even dangerous, had he attempted to swim far, hut as it was the launch’s engine was doing all the work. Tom simply allowed his rather buoyant body to he towed. None the less the speed of the towing, so greatly in excess of .a swimmer’s speed, began to tell upon his endurance. Later that cabin sloop was brieffy in the boy’s sight. Halstead was forced to lower his head all he could in the water, but Captain French, having no reason to scan the launch’s water line, did not happen to detect the strange ‘ ‘ tow. ’ ’ As the two boats went alongside it was the launch’s starboard bow that touched, so that Tom, at port, was in no danger of being seen from the other craft.

Nor was the young motor boat captain again in sight after the two craft parted. Pedro’s slower speed, making for the cove, came as a huge relief to the “boy overboard.”

‘While the anchor was being dropped, Halstead had opportunity to sec hove wild and deserted a bit of nature the surroundings were. There was not a house or other sign of human habitation anywhere in sight.

While Pedro sat up forward, smoking, a voice

;r—Motor Boat Ctub at Xantuckct.

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sounded that thrilled Captain Tom Halstead with instant wonder.

4 4 Hullo, Pedro! What a nap I must have had.”    .    '    '    "

44Yo’ shuahly did sleep fast, chile.”

44I’m coming out, now.”

44Ef yo’ do, young boss, he kyahful,” warned the black man.

4 4 Oh, there’s no one around here to see me, ’ ’ contended that other voice, and now it sounded as though the owner were in the how of the craft.

44Ef Ah done thought Ah could trust yo’ Ah’d tuhn in in dat forrad cuhhy mahself,” declared the negro. 44Ah’s powahful drowsy.”

4 4 Go ahead, Pedro, ’ ’ agreed the other speaker. 44You needn’t he afraid of me. I’ll keep a bright lookout.”

There was the sound of the negro stowing himself away in the forward cuhhy, much roomier than the one Tom had tried at the stern.

Halstead had heard the conversation’with a feeling at first as though his brain were whirling inside his head. The long dousing in the water was beginning to make itself felt in a chill, but it was not wholly this that made the young skipper shake.

44That’s Ted Dunstan’s voice,” he told him-

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99

self, trembling. “He’s on board this very craft. I’ve found the missing Dunstan heir.”

Soon Pedro’s snores could be heard. Then Tom Halstead hauled himself up along the rope until he could just peer over the gunwale. His last doubt vanished; he could no longer question his ears, for now his glance fastened upon the living heir of the Dunstans!

CHAPTER IX

TED HURLS A THUNDERBOLT

HE youngest of the Dunstans was sitting

where Pedro had been seated only a

.short time before. Ted held a book in his hands, his gaze fixed on one of the pages.

44 He’s playing crafty, ’ ’ thought Tom. 44 He’s waiting until he’s sure that black man is sound, sound asleep. Then he’ll make his dash for freedom. Oh, if he only knew how close a friend is! ”

“Whirr-ugli!” Pedro’s snore smote heavily on the air.

“He’ll sleep now, as only a colored man can sleep, ’ ’ thought Tom jubilantly. 4 4 There’s only just- one time to do this thing, and that’s now! Here goes to let Ted Dunstan know that help is right at hand.”

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Yet Tom’s teeth were threatening bo persistently to chatter that he had to hold his jaws firmly together for a moment before he blared attempt a slight signal.

“Pss-sst!” It was a low signal indeed. Ted Dnnstan half raised his gaze from the printed page, then glanced down again.

“ Whirr-rr-ugh! ’ ’ came the noisy safety-signal from Pedro.

Tom ventured to raise his head a trifle higher above the port gunwale.

‘ ‘ Pss-sst! pss-sst! ” he hissed desperately.

Ted Dunstan looked up now, his glance traveling swiftly astern. Then he caught sight of the' eager face of the “Meteor’s” young skipper. At sight of the peeper’s face the Dunstan heir’s face was a study in amazement. At first he just stared, as though suddenly in a daze.

‘ ‘ Come here! ’ ’ whispered Tom ever so softly.

Ted laid his book downpshot a swift, uncertain glance at the cubby in which Pedro lay, then rose uncertainly. Tom hauled himself up, perching himself on the gunwale.

“Be quick and silent about it,” whispered Tom, as Ted reached him and stood staring with all his might. “Can you swim?”

“Why?” demanded Ted curtly, and not exactly in a whisper, either.

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“If you can we’ll be asbore in a jiffy,” Halstead responded eagerly.

‘ ‘ Ashore ! ’ ’ demanded Ted.

“Why, of course. I’ve come to rescue you. There’s nothing to fear if you’re quick about it. But be lively. If you can’t swim, then just slip down into the water and trust yourself to me. I’ll manage it for both of us. Be quick about it, though, for every minute counts.” “There’s some mistake, somewhere,” pronounced Ted, a decided coldness in his tone.

“Mistake!” echoed Halstead, as though the other had struck him. “What do you mean, Ted! Don’t you remember me! I’m in charge of your father’s motor boat. I’ve been looking for you for days, and now you can escape. ’ ’ “But I don’t want to escape,” declared Master Ted coolly, almost sneeringly. “Besides, there’s nothing to escape from.”

“Nothing to escape from!” echoed, Tom aghast. “Why, Ted Dunstan, you simply can’t know what you’re saying. Look how this crowd have used you.”

“Well, then, how have they used me!” Ted challenged coolly. “I am having the time of my life.”

* ‘ The time of your Say, Ted Dunstan,

have you any idea how nearly crazy your father is over your absence!”

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“That’s strange,” mocked the Dunstan heir. “My father knows perfectly well where I am, and just why, too. ’’

This was nttered so candidly that Halstead wondered if he had taken leave of his own senses. There conld he no donbt at all that yonng Dunstan believed every word he was uttering.

“Your father knows you’re here?” Tom insisted questioningly.

“Of course he does. It’s by his orders that I am here and that I am keeping quiet. And now, clear out. I’ve talked to you more than is right. I know what you and your chum are— a pair of slippery eels! ”

“You say your father knows  You say he

ordered you ” Tom went on vaguely. “Ted

Dunstan, do you think you’re telling the truth or anything like it? And who on earth should you ”

“Clear out of this,” ordered the Dunstan heir firmly. “I don’t like to see you get into any trouble, but I’m not going to listen to you any longer. My father can tell you about this, if he has a mind to. I’ve no right to talk about it and I won’t. Now if you can swim as well as you say you can, prove it and reach shore on the double-quick. Pedro! Pedro! Wake up! Now you git, Halstead!”

Clear Out of This!3 ’ Ordered the Dunstan Heir.


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“But Ted persisted the dumfounded

young -skipper;

“Well, stay, then, and let Pedro get his hands on you,” defied the Dunstan heir. “Pedro! Aren’t you going to wake up?”

“Coming, chile,” sounded a drowsy voice, followed by the noise of heavy movements.

Dazed, thunderstruck, his mind wholly be- v fuddled by this astounding turn to the mystery, Tom Halstead did not linger. He knew too well what was likely to happen to him if he fell into Pedro’s hands.

Slipping over the side, Tom cast off from the rope, striking out strongly, swiftly for the shore which was distant not more than one hundred and fifty feet.

“That’s him!” cried Ted Dunstan, pointing, and. forgetting his grammar in his excitement. “That’s one of those slippery boys. He had the cheek to say he had come to rescue me.”

“He did, hey? Huh! I’se gwine fix him!” uttered the black man savagely. “Jest yo’ wait, chile, twell I’se bring out dat shotgun.”

“Oh, no, no, Pedro! Not that!” pleaded Ted in sudden dismay and terror.

But Pedro dived back into the forward cubby. All this, conversation the young motor boat captain had heard, for it passed in no low tones. Just as Pedro reached the cubby Tom scrambled

106 THE MOTOB BOAT CLUB

up on the beach. Before him were the deep woods. In among the trees he plunged. The instant he was satisfied that he was out of sight of the launch, he turned at right angles, speeding swiftly for some hundred and fifty yards. Then he halted to listen.

“Where he done gone!” demanded Pedro, reappearing on deck, gripping a double-barreled shotgun.

“I’m not going to tell you,” retorted Ted sulkily. “Shooting is not in the game.”

Tom heard the murmur of the voices—nothing more. A minute later he heard the steady chug! chug! of the launch’s steam engine as that craft started. Then the noise ceased as the craft got smoothly under way. But Halstead was up _ a-tree, now, where he could watch.

. “Heading out to sea, are you!” he chuckled, despite his great anxiety. “And in a six-mile boat. Hm! I think the ‘Meteor’ can overtake you and at least keep you in sight. For that matter, three boys can fight better than one!” Tom didn’t linger up the tree to think all that. Ere he had finished speaking to himself he was down on the ground, making speedily for where he judged the road to be. As he came in sight of the road he heard another chug! chug! that made his heart bound with delighted hope.

‘ ‘ Hi, there! Stop there, please! ” shouted the

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young motor boat captain, waving bis arms as he sighted a touring car headed toward the village.

There was only the chauffeur on the front seat and an elderly man in the tonneau. The chauffeur glanced back at this other man, then slowed down the auto.

“If you’re going into Wood’s Hole, take me with you?” begged Tom so earnestly that the older man swung open the door, saying crisply: 11Jump in! ”

Nor did Halstead lose a second. He plumped down into the seat by the door and the car was off again, going at some twenty miles an hour.

“I hope you won’t mind my wet clothes in your car,” hinted Tom apologetically. “I got a big drenching in the ocean and there was neither chance nor time to make a change.” “You’re in a hurry to get to the village, eh?” smiled the elderly man.

“In as big a hurry as I ever was to get anywhere, ’ ’ breathed Halstead fervently. The elderly man smiled, though he evidently was not curious, for he asked no further questions. Halstead sat there delightedly watching the distance fade. Even to his anxious mind the trip seemed a brief, speedy one. As the car ran in by the railway station Halstead saw -the late afternoon train slowly backing down the

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track. It had been in, then, for three or four minutes.

“Thank you, thank you!” breathed Tom fervently, as he threw open the door to leap out, then closing it behind him. “You haven’t any idea what a huge favor you’ve done me.”

“I’m glad I’ve been able to be of some use in the world to-day,” laughed the old gentleman pleasantly.

But Tom, bounding across the tracks and over the ground, hardly heard him. The young skipper had but one thought at this moment—to get aboard, and have his craft under way at the earliest possible second.

As Halstead neared the pier he saw Joe and Jed seated on the deckhouse, while Mr. Crane, the Dunstan lawyer, arrived on the train, was walking along over the boards.

“Joe, get the engine started on a hustle!” bellowed Tom, using both hands to form a trumpet. “Jed, on the pier with you and stand by the stern-line, ready tp cast off!”

Both boys leaped to obey such crisp commands. . Lawyer Crane, having reached the boat, turned on the pier to look inquiringly at the racing young skipper.

“Get aboard, sir, as quickly as you can, if you please,” requested the young skipper all but breathlessly.

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“May I inquire ” began the lawyer

slowly.

“Yes, sir; when we’re under way. But we haven’t a second to lose in starting. (Jet aboard, sir, if you please.”

In his eagerness Tom almost shoved the legal gentleman over the side. Mr. Crane, not a little astonished at the hasty procedure, looked as though about to resent such treatment, but for-tunatelv changed his mind.

Tom himself seized the bowline and threw oft. He and Jed sprang aboard, fore and aft, at about the same instant. The “Meteor’s’’ engine was already chugging merrily.

“Slow speed ahead, Joe,” bellowed down Captain Tom, and the “Meteor” swung gracefully out. “Now work her up to good speed,” he called, a few moments later. “We’re on the grand old chase!”

CHAPTER X

OVERHAULIN'G THE MYSTERY

“ A ND now,” demanded Lawyer Crane, in his calm, heavy voice, “may I ask what all this chaos and confusion is

about ?”

“In just a minute or two, sir, I’ll be hugely

110 THE MOTOR BOAT CLTJB

delighted to have you listen,” Halstead answered. “But I want to get out of this cove and clear of coast shoals and ledges .first.”

Joe had already begun to make the engine 4 ‘ kick ’ ’ somewhat, and the boat was moving fast, leaving behind her a graceful swirl of water. Jed, after coiling the stern-line, had come forward, and, though he asked no questions, that youth was whistling a ditty of fast movement, the surest sign of all that he shared in the unknown excitement.

‘ ‘ There she is! ” cried Halstead, suddenly, taking his right hand from the wheel to point out over the water.

“She?” repeated Mr. Crane. “Who?” “That boat! Don’t you see the steam launch with the yellow hull?”

The launch was some two or more miles away, heading over the waters in a direction, that would carry her past the northern end of Martha’s Vineyard. Mr. Crane adjusted his glasses, staring hard. At last he made out the low-lying hull.

‘ ‘ I see some sort of a craft out there, ’ ’ he replied slowly. “But I must congratulate you on having very good eyes, Captain Halstead, if you can make out the fact that she is painted yellow. However, what have we to do with that boat?”

AT NANTUCKET

111

“We’re going after her,” responded Tom, briefly. He was wondering just how to begin the wonderful story of his late adventure.

“Going after her?” repeated Mr. Crane, in slow astonishment. “Why, I was under the impression that your present' task related to carrying me over to Mr. Dunstan’s home.” “That comes next,” replied Tom. “Mr. Crane, hardly twenty minutes ago I was aboard yonder boat, and was talking with Master Ted Dunstan.”

The lawyer gasped, then rejoined, slowly: “That’s a most remarkable statement, to say the least.”

But Joe Dawson and Jed Prentiss, who knew Halstead better, were staring at him with eyes wide open and mouths almost agape.

“I saw Ted Dunstan,” repeated Tom, firmly. “Moreover, he gave me the jolt of my life.” “Did he incidentally throw you overboard?” asked the lawyer, eyeing* Tom’s wet garments. The sun and wind had dried the first great surplus of water out of them, but they were still undeniably more than damp.

‘ ‘ That was all part of the experience, ’ ’ Halstead answered, annoyed by the impression that the lawyer thought him trying to spin a mere sailor’s yarn. “Do you care to hear what happened, sir?”

112 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

“Why, yes, assuredly, captain.”

Tom reeled tlie story off rapidly. The lawyer gasped once or twice, but certainly the young skipper’s wet clothing gave much of an appearance of truth to the “yarn.”

“And now, sir, what do you think of Master Ted’s claim that he was having the time of his life, and was hiding by his father’s orders?” Tom wound up, inquiringly.

“Really, I shall have to think it all over,” replied the lawyer cautiously. “And I shall be much interested in hearing what Mr. Dun-stan has to say about it all.”

“Say, that’s queer,” broke in Joe, suddenly, staring hard at the launch, now not much more than half a mile distant.

“What is?” asked Halstead, who had kept his mind on what he was telling the lawyer.

1‘ That launch is following an almost straight course. Yet I don’t see a soul at the wheel, nor a sign of a human being aboard,” Joe replied.

“Say, there isn’t anyone in sight, is there?” demanded Jed, stopping his whistling and staring the harder.

“It will certainly complicate the adventure,” commented Lawyer Crane, “if we overhaul a craft navigated by unseen hands. ’ ’

Halstead didn’t say any more. He didn’t

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like the half-skepticism of the legal gentleman. The young skipper held straight on until they were astern of the yellow-hulled launch and coming up on the windward quarter.

“Get out on the deck forward, Jed,” directed Halstead. ‘ ‘ Stand up as straight as you can, and get the best look possible as I run up close. See if you can spot anyone hiding in the boat. ”    '

“Look out,” cautioned Joe Dawson, dryly, as Jed Prentiss started to obey. ‘ ‘ Someone on the other craft may open fire.”

Jed halted, rather uneasily, at that sinister suggestion. Then, meeting Tom’s firm glance, the boy got well forward and stood up, while Joe dropped down into the engine room to meet any order that might come about stopping speed.

“I hardly fancy anyone aboard that boat would dare threaten us with firearms,” said the lawyer, slowly. “There are too many witnesses here to risk such a serious breach of the law.”

“Hm!” chuckled Captain Tom grimly, to himself. “I wonder if this learned gentleman imagines that everyone has the wholesome respect for the law that possesses him?”

He leaned forward, to reach the bell-grip, steering, after the “Meteor’s” headway had

8—Motor Boat Club at Nantucket.

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been all but stopped, so that they would pass within a dozen feet of this mysterious craft.

“Say,” hailed back Jed, “I don’t believe there’s a soul on board that craft. I can see the bottom of the inside of the boat.”

1 Get the boat-hook, then, ’ ’ ordered Halstead. “We’ll lay alongside and make sure that she’s deserted.”

Jed jumped down nimbly. Apparently.be was glad to provide himself with so handy a weapon as the boat-hook. With this he stepped out forward again. Tom ran the Meteor in until the two craft almost bumped.

“Ugh!” grunted Jed. “It looks almost uncanny to see that , engine pumping right along with no sign of human care. ”

Gradually he drew the bow of the moving launch closer.

“Go aboard,” directed Tom.

Jed stood up high on his toes, to take a last careful look. Then he leaped to the other craft, bounding down into her cockpit. There he stood still for a few moments, tightly gripping the boat-hook in an exaggerated attitude of defence.

“Are you afraid?” hailed Halstead.

“Well,” admitted Jed, candidly, “I’ve no notion for being pounced on or shot from ambush.”

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“Tliat would have happened already, if it was going to,” Tom rejoined with a smile. “Stop the engine, and then we’ll make fast and all come on hoard. ’ ’

That Jed accomplished with one hand, while Joe did the same with the “Meteor’s” engine. Then Prentiss reached over with the boat-hook, gradually hauling the smaller craft up to the “Meteor.”

Leaving Joe behind on deck, the young skipper followed into the launch. A quick search made it plain that there was no human being in either the forward or after cubby.

“The wheel was spiked,” discovered Tom. “You see, the boat was started on her course and then her spiked wheel held her rather close to it. Whoever was aboard, after having fixed wheel and engine, got off. This was done to fool us, and we’ve had a fine old chase. ’ ’

Lawyer Crane, on the deck of the “Meteor,” opened his mouth. He was about to offer an opinion, but thought better of it and closed his lips.

“Mr. Crane,” asked Tom, after a few moments, “what are our rights? We can take this abandoned boat in tow, can’t we, and take her over to Mr. Dunstan’s pier?”

“Clearly,” assented the lawyer, slowly. “And there’s a right to salvage if the

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owner of this derelict appears and claims the boat”

Tom clambered back aboard the “Meteor,” and, going aft, threw a line to Jed, who made fast around a butt at the bow of the launch. Then Jed came back.

“Now, Mr. Crane,” smiled Captain Tom, “we are again at your orders. Unless you think of something better, we can keep on to Nantucket. ’ ’

‘‘Decidedly,” replied the lawyer. “We must acquaint Mr. Dunstan with this whole pre-pos—unaccountable story. ’ ’

As soon as the “Meteor” was well under way, on her homeward course, Halstead called, down:

“Joe, I’ve stood this drenched clothing as long as I think is good' for me in this sea wind. Take the wheel, please, and I’ll go below and get a rub and some dry clothing.”

“I’m going down with you,” broke in Jed. “There’s hot water, and you ought to have some coffee.”

Jed even helped vigorously in the rub-down. Tom’s teeth were chattering at the outset, but the friction warmed his blood. He put on dry clothing, of which he had enough aboard. And now Jed came out of the galley with a cup of steaming coffee.

“Say, Jed, what made you look so skittish

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when yon boarded that other boat ! ’’ asked the yonng skipper, smiling. “Were you really afraid!”

“Afraid!” repeated Jed, looking sheepish. “Well, Tom, I’ll tell you how it is. When there’s no danger near, and I’m thinking over brave deeds, I’m a regular hero, and no mistake. But when I get right down where I think some one may be a going to open on me with both barrels of a shotgun, then I get—well, I won’t say afraid, but tormentingly nervous!” Halstead laughed heartily.

‘ ‘ I guess that’s the way with the whole human race, Jed. The man who lugs off the reputation for being brave is the man who won’t run, because he is ashamed to let anyone see how mortally afraid he is.”

“But what do you make of Ted Dunstan’s queer talk!” asked Jed Prentiss. “Do you believe his father really did give him orders to go off with, that crowd!”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Halstead answered. “Mr. Dunstan is our employer.”

“But young Ted always has been a mighty truthful boy,” pursued Jed, wonderingly. “Oh, it’s all mighty queer, whatever’s the truth.”

“I guess we’d better let it go at that last statement,” proposed Tom; “at least, until we’ve heard what Mr. Dunstan has to say.”

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With three or four cups of coffee down, Halstead felt so much warmer that he returned to deck to take the wheel. The “Meteor” was necessarily going much more slowly than usual, with her tow astern. The trip was bound to be such a long one that Jed started things in the galley, then went back through the passageway to the cabin, where he set the folding table with a white cloth. When Lawyer Crane seated himself at supper he was astonished to find how excellent a meal could be prepared in short time aboard this craft.

It was nearing dark when Captain Halstead guided the “Meteor” in toward the Dunstan pier.    .

While the boat was being made fast by Joe and Jed, Mr. Crane stepped hurriedly ashore.

‘ ‘ Come along, Captain Halstead, 7 said the man of law. “Mr. Dunstan must hear your remarkable story without a moment’s delay.”

CHAPTER XI

WHERE THE WATER TRAIL ENDED

HORACE Dunstan, pausing in his excited walk in his library, stopped and stared in amazement when Tom came to one point of his strange recital.

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“Ted said I gave him instructions to go with that crowd?” he demanded.

“He made that point extremely plain to me, sir,” Halstead insisted.

“But I—I never gave him any such instructions,” cried Mr. Dunstan, rumpling his hair.

“It seemed unbelievable, sir. And yet your son struck me as a truthful boy.”

“He is; he always was,” retorted the father. “Ted hated a lie or a liar, and yet this statement is wholly outside of the truth. I assure

you ”    ;

“If you’ll permit me, sir,” broke in the lawyer, who had been listening silently up to this point, “I’ll indicate one or two points at which

young Halstead’s most remarkable ”

“Crane,” broke in the master of the house, with unlooked-for sternness, “if you’re about to throw any doubt around Tom Halstead’s story, I may as well tell you plainly that you’re going a little too far. Halstead has been most thoroughly vouched for to me. If you have any notion in your mind that he has been yarning to us, I beg you to let the idea remain in your mind. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Hm!” said the lawyer, and subsided.

• “Captain Halstead,” went on Ted’s father, “my son’s statement is so extraordinary that I don’t pretend to fathom it. But I give you

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my word, as a man of honor, that I am as much at sea in this matter as anyone conld be. But I must get in touch with Wood’s Hole at once.” There was a telephone instrument in the room that speedily put the distracted father in communication with one of his detectives over on the mainland. A long talk followed, the upshot of it being that the detective in charge of the search asked that the “Meteor” be sent over to Wood’s Hole at once, that she might be ready for any sea-going following-up of clues that might be necessary.    

“For, of course, we’ve got to find that cabin sloop,” finished Detective Musgrave. “If the sloop isn’t at sea, then the chase undoubtedly must be followed on the mainland. If we have the “Meteor” here we can do quickly anything that may appear necessary. ”

So Tom received his instant sailing orders. As he hurried from the house, down through the grounds, the young skipper felt relieved at one point. With his belief in Ted’s honesty he had been inclined to suspect that Horace Dun-stan, for some unknown reasons of his own, such, for instance, as a distaste for having his son go into the Army, might have brought about a pretended disappearance.

“But now I know,” muttered Tom, “that Mr. Dunstan is just as honest in his declara-

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tions as Ted appeared to be in saying the opposite. If Horace Dunstan has been lying to me just now, I’d have very little further faitb in human honesty.”    ■

The “Meteor” was speedily on her way. First Joe, and then Tom, was served in the little galley, Jed getting in his mouthfuls as best he could before the motor boat was tied up at Wood’s Hole.

Before Tom had time to land a keen-eyed, smooth-faced man of thirty-five, broad-shouldered and a little above medium height, stepped forward out of the darkness and over the rail.

“Ho you know me, Captain Halstead?” he asked, in a low voice.

“Yes, I think so,” Tom answered. “You’re Mr. Musgrave, one of the detectives sent down from New York at Mr. Dunstan’s request.”

“I am in charge of the case at this point,” said Musgrave. “Lead me below.”

Tom conducted his caller down into the engine-room, thence through the passageway into the cabin.

“Now, tell me all you can of this affair, and talk as quickly as you can,” directed the detective.

Tom told his brief but potent narrative without pausing for breath.

“I have telegraphed or telephoned men from

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our agency, so that many points are covered for some distance north, along the coast, ’’ murmured Mr. Musgrave. “We are also having the islands watched as far around as Block Island. But, since the launch was found running wild and the cabin sloop was not sighted, I am inclined to believe that the trail runs somewhere on the mainland. If you’ll take your friend, Joe Dawson, along with you, I’ll send also one of the Wood’s Hole constables, a man named Jennison. If you run into any of that crew, Jennison has power to make arrests, and he’s the sort of man who wouldn’t back down before a cannon. I have an automobile ready, and Jennison knows what’s expected of him. You’re to search up along the coast, to see if you can find any trace of that cabin sloop. ’ ’

“Do you think Jed Prentiss will be sufficient guard to leave with the boat?” questioned Halstead. “The Alvarez crowd would like noth-. ing better than to disable this fine craft if they got a chance to sneak aboard. ’ ’

“I’ll send down one of the hotel employes to keep Prentiss company, then. Now come along, Halstead. Jennison and the automobile are waiting.”

Two minutes later Tom and Joe found themselves speeding along a road that led up along the coast.

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“There’s no use stopping the first mile or so,” explained Constable Jennison, a slight but wiry-looking man of rustic type. “We’ve been over the near ground already. But we’ll go forty miles or more before we give up the search for the home berth of that sloop.”

Just below Falmouth the auto-car turned from the road to run down to a cove where several sailing craft and two launches were at anchor. The owner was found. He did not own or know of any such sloop as Halstead described.

On again they went. There was a chauffeur on the front seat. The constable and the boys were in the tonneau. Two more boat-letting resorts were visited, but without success. The constable, however, far from being depressed, became jovial.

“Are you armed, Halstead!” he inquired, a twinkle in his eyes.

“No; I have no use for boys that carry guns,” replied Tom.

“You’re sensible enough,” responded the constable seriously. Then, resuming his bantering tone, he went on:

“But you ought to be ready for anything tonight. Here, put this in your pocket.”

“What’s this thing supposed to be good for!” Toni demanded dryly, as he took from the officer

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a cheap little bronze toy pistol. It was modeled after a business-like revolver, but a glance showed that it was meant only to explode paper caps.

“It belongs to my five-year-old boy,’’ laughed Jennison. “He knows that I often carry a pistol and be doesn’t know the difference between a real one and bis Fourth of July toy. So to-night, when I was leaving the bouse, be insisted on my taking bis pistol and I bad to in order to keep him quiet. ”    ,

“It looks dangerous enough in the dark,” remarked Joe, bending over and taking the “weapon” with a laugh. He looked it over, then returned it to Tom, who, in turn, offered it to the officer.

“Drop it in your pocket, ’ ’ said the latter. “It ought to make you feel braver to feel such a thing next to your body.”

With a laugh Tom did as urged. The automobile soon made another stop at a boatyard. Here, again, the search was useless, so they kept on. A fourth was visited with no better result. They were now ten miles from Wood’s Hole, but they kept on. A mile further on the car descended a low hill, toward the water, then turned almost at right angles. Just as they rounded this bend in the road Halstead leaned suddenly forward.

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“Stop!” he called to the chauffeur.

“What’s the matter?” asked Jennison, as the car halted.

“ As we came around the bend the searchlight threw a ray between the trees, and I’m sure I saw a. cabin sloop down in the offing,” Tom explained.

“/ didn’t see it.”

“And I got only a brief glimpse,” Halstead rejoined. “But don’t you think it’s worth our while to get out and go down to the water’s edge ? ”

“Of course,” nodded the constable. The three piled out of the tonneau, leaving the chauffeur alone. Tom led the way, going straight between the trees down to the water.

“That’s the very sloop, I’d almost swear,” whispered Tom, pointing to a craft at anchor a hundred yards or so from shore. A small boat lay hauled up on the beach. Not far from where the three stood was a ramshackle little shanty from which no light slione.

“We’ll give our attention to the house, first,” declared the constable. Accordingly they stepped up to the door, Jennison knocking loudly. From inside came a snore. The. summons had to be repeated before a voice inside demanded:

“Who’s there? What’s wanted?”

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“A traveler who wants to speak with you,” replied the officer.

There were sounds inside. Then the door opened. They were confronted by a white-haired old man, partly dressed and holding a lighted lantern. He made a venerable picture as he stood there in the doorway.

“ Well ?” he asked.

“That’s your sloop out in the offing?” Jen-nison asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you use her to-day?”

“No; I rented her to a stranger, who wanted to go fishing. I didn’t know he had returned. Said he might be out most of the night, and the sloop wasn’t hack when I turned in at dark.” “Wasn’t, eh?” asked the constable, with quick interest. “Now will you tell me what the stranger looked like?”

“Why, he was about forty-five, I guess. Rather heavily built. His skin was well-bronzed——”

“That’s the man, French,” whispered Tom, nudging the officer. “His face had been stained a good bronze color.”

“Did the stranger give any word about com- • ing back at some other time?” asked Jennison.

“No; he paid me for the afternoon and the evening, ’ ’ replied the old man. It was plain

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that he had told all he knew about the stranger. The old man stated that he himself was a fisherman, but that in summer he often made more money taking out parties of summer boarders.

Joe, in the meantime, had gone down to the beach to watch the sloop. There appeared to be no one stirring aboard the craft, but, as a precaution, Jennison and the boys rowed out, thus making sure that the sloop was deserted. They hurriedly returned to shore. Jennison now displayed his badge, asking permission to look into the,shanty. The old man readily gave the permission, adding, somewhat shakily: “I’m not used to having my house suspected, but I’m glad to give the law’s officer any privileges he may want here.”

The search was unavailing. Jennison and his young companions hastened back to the automobile where they stood deliberating.

“That sloop has come in since dark,” observed Halstead. “That old man looks as though he could be thoroughly believed. Yet that’s the very sloop. I’m positive about that. So the rascals can’t have had much the start of us. ’ ’

“They’re a needle in the haystack, now, anyway,” sighed Constable Jennison. “We’re at the end of the water trail and we know where they landed.”

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“But we also know that they’re on the mainland; at least it looks mighty certain,” suggested Tom Halstead.

“That’s true,” nodded the officer. “Well, Mr. Musgrave must know of this at once. The next village is less than three miles away. I’m going there in the auto as fast as I can and telephone him.”

“You’ll come hack this way?” hinted Tom. “Yes, without a doubt.”

“Then leave us here. We’ll hunt for any signs we can find of them while you’re gone.” “But how’ll I find you on my return?” “Why, if you stop here, and honk your horn twice, we’ll come running to you.”

“You might run into the rascals,” mused Jen-nison.

“I hope we do,” muttered Tom.

“See here,” demanded the officer curiously, “aren’t you hoys afraid to take a chance like this?” His glance fell on Joe Dawson.

“No,” returned Joe very quietly.

“Well, it may not be a bad idea to leave you .here until I return,” said Jennison briskly. “You may pick up some sign. Anyway, I hope you don’t get into any trouble. Good-by for a few minutes.”

The car Sped out of sight, but neither boy waited to watch it.

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“It’s a pretty fair guess, Joe,” said Tom, ' “that Alvarez and French came up this1 way from the shore. Now, that way, the road leads to Wood’s Hole. And there’s the opposite direction. Alvarez has a little foot like a woman’s; French has a very large foot. Now if we can find two such foot marks together,- it would look as though we could find the direction our men have taken. Have you any matches?”

“Plenty,” Dawson replied.

‘ ‘ So have I. Then suppose you go that way, ’ ’ pointing toward Wood’s Hole. “And I’ll, go the other way. We can light matches every two or three hundred feet and examine the ground. One of us may pick up the trail we want to find. ’ ’

‘ ‘ Good enough, ’ ’ was all that came from quiet Joe, as he started at once.

For a few minutes the boys could see each other’s lights when matches were struck. Then the winding of the road hid them from each other.

Twice the young skipper had found imperfect footprints in the sandy road, but they were not clear enough for him to be sure that these were the tracks he sought. Now Tom stopped again, striking a match and walking slowly along as he shielded the flame from the light breeze with his hands. Then suddenly he came to a brief

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halt, as his gaze traveled across the road. He saw an object on the gronnd in front of a bnsh, an object that cansed him to bonnd across the road.

*4 Great! Pine! ’ ’ breathed the boy jubilantly. “I’d know this little article anywhere. It’s the tobacco pouch of ”

“Ah, good evening, my friend,” broke in a taunting voice. “It’s the meddling boy himself!”

Halstead, even before he could straighten up, found himself staring between the branches' of the bush into a pair of gleaming, mocking eyes.

“Senor Alvarez!” cried the young skipper.

Then something struck Tom heavily from behind, felling him to the ground, unconscious.

CHAPTER XII

JOB HAS HIS COUEAGB TESTED

WHEN young Halstead next knew anything his mind was hazy at first. He realized dimly, and then more clearly, that he was upon some one’s shoulder, being carried. There was a buzzing, too, over his right ear, where his head throbbed dully and ached.

As he opened his eyes wider he saw that he

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was being carried along under trees and over rising ground.

Then his thoughts became clearer and he felt certain it was none other than Captain Jonas French who was carrying him. Some one else, probably Alvarez, was treading the ground behind him.

Halstead gave a sigh, then murmured:

1 ‘ Put me down! ’ ’

They were luckless words, for French vented but the one syllable, “ Right, ” then dropped him to the ground and sat on him.

“Don’t make the mistake of trying to make any noise, either,” growled the once florid-faced one. “No one could hear you here except us, but we’ll take noise as an evidence of unkind disposition on your part. ’ ’

“Tie him,” murmured Don Emilio, standing over the boy.

Without making any response in words, French rolled the boy over on his face. Tom didn’t attempt to resist. He was too weak; his strength was just beginning to come back. French knotted a rope around his wrists, held behind him, then quickly lashed the young skipper’s ankles together.

“And this!” insisted Alvarez. A gag composed or two handkerchiefs was forced between Halstead’s lips and made fast there.

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“Now, my meddling boy, yon may be as unpleasant as yon please,” mocked Don Emilio Alvarez, bending over and smiling into Halstead’s face. “Ah, yon bave been tronblesome to ns—very. And yon bave inquired what I would do to yon if I had yon down in Honduras, where they do things differently. Ah, well! Perhaps, my meddling boy, yon shall discover what I would do to you! Will yon, my large friend, lift him and carry him on again? We are not far from the place where we can keep him securely enough.”

With a grunt French once more shouldered his burden, tramping on through the forest, Alvarez still bringing up the rear. Then, from the crest of a rise they pressed between a fringe of bushes and next began to descend a narrow, rocky path. They stopped in a ravine, densely grown with trees.

“Even in the daytime this place is hardly likely to be found by prying eyes, ’ ’ laughed Alvarez confidently. “And now, my captain, you' might rid yourself of the meddling boy.” French dropped Tom at the base of a young spruce tree, knotting another cord to his feet and passing it around the trunk of the tree.

“He won’t get away—can’t, even though we were to leave him here through the night,” muttered French gruffly.

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“And I, since my meddling boy fonnd for me the tobacco poncli that I dropped in bis path for , bait, will enjoy a smoke once more,” laughed Senor Alvarez. He rolled a cigarette, which he soon was puffing. French, having filled a pipe, lighted that and stretched himself at full length. Thus several minutes went by. Tom Halstead, unable to talk, spent his energies in wondering whether Ted Dunstan was anywhere in the near neighborhood.

After many minutes had passed tile deep silence of this wild spot was broken by an owl hoot. Alvarez, raising his head, answered by a similar hoot Then from the distance came two hoots.    ;

"Come, we will go forward to meet our friends,” proposed the swarthy little man eagerly, as he sprang to his feet. French got up more lumberingly, though almost as quickly. Together they trod up to the head of the ravine. Out of the darkness ahead came Pedro and a little brown man who looked as much like a Spaniard as- Alvarez did.

“We’se done brought yo’ dis,” stated Pedro with a grin that showed his big, white teeth.

- “This” was Joe Dawson, his hands tied behind him, his face as sullen as a storm cloud in a summer shower. Joe was walking, led by Pedro, and pushed at times by the brown man.

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“Ho, ho!” laughed Alvarez, in keen relish. “You have not done badly. You bring me the other meddling hoy. Halt him here—so. Tie him against this tree that he may have a chance to lean. ” Alvarez watched until Joe had been moored fast, then asked:

“How many did you come out with to-night!” “Guess!” proposed Joe pleasantly.

“Don’t dare to be impertinent, boy!” warned Don Emilio, his eyes flashing. “Answer me straight, and—what do you call it!—to the point, as you Americans say. ’ ’

“Lemon V’ laughed Joe Dawson coolly. “No, thank you. I always take vanilla.”

“Boy, if you get me any more angry,” stormed Don Emilio, “you will regret it.”

But Dawson merely looked at the swarthy, false-bearded little man with an air of boredom.

“Let me handle him,” proposed Jonas French, stepping forward.

“I’ll be glad if you will wait on me,” drawled Joe, looking at the larger man. “I don’t believe this little fellow knows his business or his goods.”

With an angered cry Don Emilio darted in, striking his cool tormentor across the face.

“Hold on,” objected Joe lazily, “I didn’t ask to be called until nine o ’clock. ’ ’

“Are you going to stop this nonsense!” ,de-

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manded Don Emilio, liis voice quavering with wrath.

“Dawson,” remarked French, “you don’t appear to realize your fix. ”    ,

Joe stared at him haughtily, remarking: “My hill is not due until the end of the week. Go away and let me read in peace.”

Pedro, in the background, was holding one hand over his broad mouth to hide his expansive grin over this cool nonsense. But Don Emilio was fast losing his not very certain temper.

“Go and bring that other boy Halstead,” ordered Alvarez. “When the two of them see each other they’ll know their game is up, and they’ll come to their senses. If not, nothing will make any difference to them after a few minutes more. ’ ’

Without a word French turned, treading down the ravine. Just a little later he reappeared, looking bewildered.

“Alvarez,” he gasped, “come here. That other boy isn’t where we left him. Hurry! ’ ’ Uttering an exclamation of amazement, Alvarez darted after his friend. Pedro and the little brown man, caught in the astonishment, bolted after their leaders.

Joe could not get away from the tree to which he was bound, but he stood there grinning with

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cool enjoyment. In another moment he felt a lively sound at his back. Then Halstead whispered in his ear:

“I’m cutting you loose, old fellow! Bolt with me! ”

Dawson, straining at the cords while Tom •slashed at them, was quickly free.

“Come along,” begged Tom. “Never mind stopping to leave cards or writing a note of regret. Hustle—this way! ’ ’

Halstead led in the swift flight in the direction that he judged the roads to lie. They tried to go noiselessly, but they had not gone far when a shout behind showed them that their flight had been detected.

“Sprint, old chum!” floated hack over Halstead’s shoulder.

In looking back, the young skipper stumbled. Joe had to pause long enough to drag his comrade to his feet. That lost them a few precious seconds, but they dashed onward once more. As they ran they heard the feet of the pursuers behind. From greater familiarity with the ground some of those in chase were gaining on the fugitives.

Joe now led in the chase, with Tom at his heels. They came to what appeared to be the wooded slope leading down to the road. Joe ran up against a wall almost sooner than he had

]

1

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expected. He nearly fell over it, but recovered and jumped. Halstead landed in the road beside him.

There was another flying figure in the air, and Pedro was beside them, reaching out. Behind were French and Don Emilio.

“Yo better stop, fo’ shuah!” called Pedro, parting his lips in a grin of huge enjoyment. “Dere ain’t no use in tryin’ to git away from me.”

CHAPTER XIII

A CAPTURE IU RECORD TIME

“X OOK out! He’s mine!” shouted Joe.

I    But Tom Halstead had sprung in

the same instant at Pedro. The result was that the combined assault of the boys bore the fellow to the ground, and Tom, remembering, just in the nick of time, the toy cap pistol that Jennison had handed him, and which had escaped discovery a few minutes before, hauled that ridiculous “weapon” out, pressing it against the temple of the black man.

“Don’t you stir, if you know what’s best for you,” warned the young skipper sternly.

Joe, seeing the lay of the land, leaped up to meet Captain French, who was just reaching that wall.

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At that moment the noise of a speeding auto was borne to them, while around the bend Whizzed the machine, sending its strong searchlight ray ahead to illumine the scene.

The yells of its occupants caused the other pursuers of the hoys to halt in confusion. Before they had time to think what to do the automobile was racing up to the spot and stopping. Alvarez and his two companions bore away up the wooded slope as fast as their alarm could spur them.

‘ ‘ What’s this going on here ? ’ ’ demanded Constable Jennison, as he leaped out into the road.

“You’ll find some of the rascals up there among the trees,” replied Tom, coolly. “I have one of ’em here, hut he’s tame now.” Pedro, in fact, in his dread lest he be shot, was lying on his stomach, his face between his crossed arms, while Halstead stood over him, holding that wholly useless 11 pistol. ’ ’,

“Just move that car a few yards ahead, will you?” begged Tom of the chauffeur, fearing that in the strong light, Pedro might steal a look sideways and find out what a comical “weapon” had scared him.

“There are three of the crowd up there,” added Joe. “They were chasing us, hut your arrival scared them off.”

“I’ll make sure of the one we have, first,” re-

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turned the constable, going toward the prostrate negro. ‘ ‘ My man, put your hands behind you, and be quick about it.”

Pedro obeyed without a murmur, the constable snapping handcuffs on him without loss of an instant. “Now, help me lift him into the auto—front seat,” directed the officer. But Pedro, seemingly afraid of the consequences of any stubbornness, aided his captors.

“Can you keep him, Jack?” asked the constable of the man at the steering wheel.

“I can bring him down, if he tries to bolt,” came the quick retort from the chauffeur.

‘‘ (Fore hebben, Ah won’t try nothing funny,’ 9 protested Pedro, solemnly. He was seemingly still afraid that the slightest defiance would cost him his life.

“See that this fellow is locked up, Jack,” commanded Jennison, in a low voice. “Speed some, too, and get back here as fast as you can with some more men. It may be that there’s going to be a fight.9 9

Just as the car started two sharp reports rang out from the hillside above. There were two flashes, and bullets whizzed ominously over the road. One of them pierced Tom’s uniform cap, carrying it from his head.

There being nothing he could do, Dawson threw himself to the ground, out of harm’s way.

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Tom, crouching low, darted across the road after his hat. But Jennison leaped forward, weapon in hand, letting three shots fly hack to answer the defiance from under the trees.

“Come on! We’ll close in on ’em and mow ’em down if they don’t surrender!” shouted the officer.

His call to the boys was intended for the hearing of those above. He had no notion that the hoys, unarmed, would accompany him. Yet, as Jennison hounded over the wall, the two young motor boat hoys, were behind him on either side.

“Now, then, you fellows up there, throw down your shooting irons and prepare to give yourselves up,” called the doughty constable. “If you don’t ”

Four shots answered this demand, the bullets clipping off leaves so close to the trio that the hoys crouched lower almost. instinctively.

“All right, then, I’m coming up to get you!” shouted the constable running forward, weapon in hand. But he halted at length, well away from the road, uncertain which way to turn.

“What are you hoys doing here, unarmed?” he whispered, facing them in surprise.

“We’re as safe here as we’d he anywhere else hereabouts,” Tom Whispered hack.

“Yes, I don’t know hut that’s so. But

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wliere can the scoundrels be? Do you know anything about the lay of the land here?”

“I think we can find the ravine where they took us,” suggested Joe.

“Try to, then.”

Both hoys now. went a bit in advance of the officer, hut he kept close to them, in order to he on hand if they ran into any danger.

The ravine proved to he empty, however. Tom pointed out where he had slashed Joe’s bonds away. “And over yonder,” he added, “I guess I can show you the rope I worked my own wrists out of. Once I worked my hands free it didn’t take me long to cut away the rest of the tackle.”

Though they searched for upwards of an hour, they were unable to find any further trace of the scoundrels. Nor did they come upon any place that looked as though it had been used as a hiding place for the missing Dunstan heir.

Then a loud honking from the road recalled them. The chauffeur was there with the machine, from which were alighting four deputies whom he had brought out with him from Wood’s Hole.

“I’m going to leave you men here to carry on the search,” explained Mr. Jennison. “Keep it up all through the night, and through the daylight, too, if you run across anything that

144 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

looks like a trail. These young men will describe to you the fellows you’re expected to find. I’ll he hack bye and bye, but don’t wait for me.”

Tom and Joe quickly described the three fugitives from justice. Then Jennison turned to the chauffeur to inquire:

' 11 Could you work any information out of that black man?”

“•Not a word,” came the grumbling reply. “After a few minutes he got over being so scared, but he couldn’t be made to say a word about his crowd. Just closed his mouth, and wouldn’t talk. Musgrave has him in hand now, at the station house, but not a word can the fellow be made to say. ”

“I’m going back with you, now,” proposed Jennison, “to see what I can get out of him. You boys may as well come with me. It looks like a losing chase here. If we can get something out of the chap, Pedro, we’ll have something real to come back with.”

So Tom and Joe piled in with their new friend. In less than half an hour they had entered the little guard-room of the police station at Wood’s Hole. Pedro, still manacled, was seated in a hard wooden armchair between two constables, while Detective Musgrave paced the floor before him.

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held, on, descending fast, and reached the motor boat’s cockpit in safety. Then another seaman came down. Cheers went up from those above as they saw this good start to safety made.

Next a pulley tackle was attached to the rope. For a few moments the two hulls rolled closer to each other. Then, as they parted and the rope tautened, there was a shriek up aloft. A woman came plunging down to life or death. Beady hands caught her. She stood safe in the cockpit. ■    ...

“Into the cabin, madam, please,” called Tom, opening the door. “Go up forward as far as you can, to make room for more.”

Then another woman came over the side, and she, too, landed in safety. Just as the third started the two craft rolled toward each other. The slack of the rope let the woman into the angry sea. But she was close to the “Sunbeam.” Tom caught a boathook in her clothing, drew her close, and ready hands seized her, doing the rest.

As fast as they came, secured to the pulley tackle, the women were released and all but hustled into the cabin. It was hard on them, for in that awful sea the little “Sunbeam” rolled and pitched as though the next wave must carry the motor craft to the bottom. Out-

IO—Motor Boat Club of the Kennebec.

146 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

side the hoarse shouting of orders sounded much more like panic than the discipline of cool, brave men and boys.

One woman, in fact, after a particularly heavy roll, feeling that the end had come, made a frantic dash from the little cabin. Though it went against his grain, Joe caught her, thrusting her firmly back inside as he shouted at hei4 sternly:

“Now that you’re safe, don’t hinder our work of getting the rest out of this alive!”

After the four women passengers came two male passengers. Then Tom saw that the next to descend the rope looked like stokers.

“There’s one more passenger to be accounted for,” thought Halstead. “Wonder where he is?”

But he did not ask. After all, it appeared to be none of his business, but rather that of the “Dundee’s” skipper. So our hero stood by with his chum, giving a hand with the seamen at the line and pulley tackle.

Bump! Another sea, the heaviest yet, caught the little ‘ * Sunbeam, ’ ’ dashing her up against the steamship. The shock threw a dozen men down, but all were able to save themselves from going overboard. Shrieks of terror came from the cabin.

“Get in there with the passengers, all who

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can crowd in,” shouted Tom. “Steady them! Keep their nerve together.”

Then to Mr. Prescott he added:

“Another smash or two like that, sir, will start onr planks. We’ve got to hurry this work if we’re to keep afloat and get clear in time to save ourselves.”

He made rapid gestures to the captain of the steamship up at that other rail to hurry on the work of getting his crew over the side. The work of rescue moved somewhat faster. Only the fenders had saved the motor boat so far. If the gale increased in severity, or the sea came in higher, it was not difficult to guess the end.

A heavy man in long oilskin and sou’wester was now rigged to the pulley tackle up aloft.

“Let him come!” roared Tom as he saw the line tautening. But he had misjudged, for a shorter wave rolled in, slackening the rope just as the heavy man on the tackle started. He all but reached the smaller deck below. Suddenly the motor craft rolled, and the heavy one, all but aboard, got soused in the sea instead. One of the seamen stood by to gaff the endangered one’s clothing with a boathook, but could not quite reach. Then the return roll brought the all but drowning man nearer. Boathook and then hands caught hold, and he was drawn aboard.

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“Mighty close shave, friend,” commented one of the seamen grimly.

“It takes a lot more than that to finish me,” retorted the rescued one in a low, indifferent tone—a low voice, that is, in a tempest.

Bnt Tom Halstead, who, though his hack was turned, heard' some of the words, had to get a swift, strong grip on himself to keep from wheeling about like a flash and looking the man over.

He knew that voice! He could not have mistaken it among a thousand. It was the voice of the brute who had tormented him on Smugglers ’ Island. It was the same wretch who had afterwards left him buried alive on that bit of ledge-surrounded island!

“That’s the one odd passenger who didn’t come down with the other six!” throbbed the young captain. “That evil spirit of Smugglers’ Island—the one wretch in the world I must live to get even with!”

Then Tom turned to hurry on the work of rescue, not even taking a covert look at his enemy. He would know that man again when he looked, for he had had a good glimpse of him while on the tackle.

“And if I don’t show any curiosity about him, he’ll feel sure I haven’t recognized him,” reasoned Halstead. “He knows that the other

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night I didn’t get. as much as a single glimpse of his wicked face. He took too good care for that!”

Again the “Sunbeam” took an all but shattering crash up against the big, unmanageable hulk of the steamship. But the last man of all, Captain Barstow of the “Dundee,” now came sliding down the rope without waiting for the tackle.

“Cast off! Get clear like a flash! Dick, stand by to give the speed ahead!” roared Captain Tom through the megaphone. Nor did any one lag. There were seamen aboard to give quick hands. One bell, then two, sounded in the motor room, and Ab, who had been quiet longer than ever before in waking hours, put the engine through its paces.

As well handled as could have been, the “Sunbeam,” still sound and seaworthy despite her narrow escapes from being stove in, swung outward and around the hull.

“My good old boat won’t float another half hour,” said Captain Barstow huskily. He remained astern, watching as long as he could see.

The danger was not yet over, nor would it be until the tight little motor craft floated in smoother waters. But with the fury of the gale astern Captain Tom risked more speed than he

150 THE, MOTOR BOAT CLUB

had dared coming out into the teeth of the tempest.

Swinging the searchlight as he picked up the dangerous approach to the river, the young skipper of the “Sunbeam” seemed to have his mind wholly on his big task of making port safely. Yet he found chance to mutter to himself:

“I mustn’t let that one odd passenger have even a guess that I know him—hut I shan’t let him slip away from me. He must he made to pay up!”

CHAPTER XIV

AB HAS A “PINE TIME”

OW, how on earth did the big fellow I ^ contrive to he on a boat that comes in from Newfoundland!” wondered Tom, as he stood beside Dick on that pitching, rolling trip hack to the Kennebec.

A possible answer was not long in arriving. “Of course, the big fellow has had time to take a train to St. Johns, in season to ship back by the boat,” Halstead understood. “But why should he make such a trip!”

To this there were two answers:

“It may have been that he couldn’t guess how much trouble for him might lie behind the ‘Sun-

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beam’s’ prowlings around Smugglers’ Island. So be may have thought it best to skip the country and get on foreign soil. Then he may have received a masked telegram which told him that all was safe here. But, on the* other hand, the big fellow may have been picked up at sea. It may even he that Captain Barstow is mixed up in some smuggling or other crooked operations with the big fellow’s crowd.”

Despite all his puzzling, Halstead did not let his thoughts get wholly away from the handling of the motor craft. His watchful eye was on what was happening. As they picked up the mouth of the river Tom relieved Davis at the wheel. Dick, tired and drenched, hastened below to the motor room. Ab came on deck, for „Joe, too, was below.

“Stand close to me, Ab,-” spoke Halstead, no louder that was necessary. “I want you to pay big heed to all I’ve got to say to you. After we get well into the river, Ab, I want you to find some excuse to go aft. Either in the cockpit or the cabin you’ll notice the tallest, heaviest man of them all, in a long oilskin and wearing a big sou’wester. Get such a good look at him that you can’t miss knowing him the next time you see him—but don’t, on any account, let him even guess that you’re noticing him. Understand ?”

152 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

“Pm on/’ nodded Ab, slangily bnt gravely. Tom steered into the river, Ab handling tbe searchlight for him, as the rudder tugged so at the wheel that'it kept Halstead busy.

They made the river in.good form, keeping well to the middle, until Mr. Prescott showed up at our hero’s side.

“Captain,” he said, “we’ve got so many aboard that we won’t even think of picking up our Port Popham party to-night. But run in there, just the same, and we ’11 get ymrd ashore that we’ve saved all hands.”

As Tom ran in close to the steamboat pier they found all Mr. Prescott’s party out there, attracted by the searchlight’s rays.

“Tell Mrs. Holcomb,” roared the broker through the megaphone, “that we’ve brought her sister ashore safely, and that we rescued every other soul aboard the ‘Dundee.’ We’re taking them to Bayport now, and we’ll come over for you in the morning.”

A big cheer burst from the little group on the pier. Then, with-a blast from the whistle, Tom swung the “Sunbeam” round and headed once more up the river.

“I got a good look at your party, all right,” Ab reported, in an undertone. “Whee! He looks like a cold-blooded devil-fish, all right!” “Ab/’ returned the young skipper, “that’s

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the chap who buried me up to the chin, as you found me the other morning.”

Perkins’ eyes looked nearly as big as saucers. ‘ ‘ Going to have him arrested ? ’ ’ demanded Ab.

1 ‘What- would be the good? I have no proof against him except my own word. No, no; what I want to do, Ab, is to follow him, once he gets ashore. You want to be the first to get ashore. Bun up the pier. I’ll give you some order, but you’ll understand that that’s only a blind. Get where you can watch the big fellow as he comes along. Then follow him, no matter where, until he roosts for the night. But don’t let him catch you on the trail, or he may do a heap-worse for you than he did for me. Will you do this trick for me, Ab?”

“Will a hornet sting?” demanded Ab, with fine scorn. “0 Tom, Tom, we’ll teach him that a fellow named Halstead is the wrong one to fool with! We ’11 show him! ’ ’

“Don’t let him get away from you, Ab. And be mighty sure that he’s roosted for tbe night before you come back.”

“You jest leave it to me,” begged Ab, earnestly. It was the biggest matter with which he had ever been intrusted, and the Perkins boy felt duly elated.

How grandly good the lights of old Bayport looked as the motor craft neared the village.

154 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

In a short time they were alongside the hotel pier. Ab landed with the how hawser, made fast, then darted away np the pier.

“Ask mother to hurry the hot coffee, Ab!” Tom bellowed after him.

The other hoy, still running, waved an arm to show that he had heard, then vanished beyond. Tom had already told Perkins to find him at the hotel when he had a report to make.

Captain Barstow, his crew and passengers all crowded round the young skipper and his friends, as well as Mr. Prescott, pressing warm praise and thanks upon them. But this scene was soon over. Tom, as soon as he could quit the boat, hurried to his home, got dried and warmed up, and changed his uniform for one of his own suits of clothing. Then he went back to the hotel. There, everyone was near retiring. But our hero found a chair on a quiet portion of the veranda, and sat down to wait for the time to pass until Perkins returned.

The hours began to file by. Tom was nodding in his chair, dreaming over again the scenes of the wreck, when the night clerk touched him on the shoulder.

“Tom, there’s a party wants you on the ’phone. ’ ’

“Eh?” demanded the young skipper. “Oh, yes; thank you. Coming! ”

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By the time that he reached the telephone booth he woke np with a jolt, for the voice that greeted him over the wire was Ab’s, saying:

“Oh, Tom, I’ve had a perfectly tine time!”

1 ‘ Glad to hear it, bnt what of the news yon went after?”

“Oh, that’s 0. K.!” came the exultant answer. “Meet me at Tyner’s Crossing jest as soon as yon can git there. That’s all—bnt hnstle! ”

The bell rang off qnickly. It was plain that Ab was telephoning from some place where he didn’t care to have too much overheard. Bnt a hint was all Halstead wanted. “0. K. ” meant that Ab had followed his man and knew where he now was. The rest could—must—keep until Halstead could arrive at Tyner’s Crossing. This part, though, would be easy. Halstead fairly ran home, got his bicycle out of the shed, mounted and started at racing speed.

The roads soon becoming rougher, Tom was forced to slacken speed somewhat. It was seven miles to Tyner’s Crossing—a long distance to a boy impatient to get a look-in at the mystery surrounding the doings on Smugglers’ Island. The crossing was about half a mile from the seacoast. Then, with a jump, Halstead realized that the crossing was also almost due north of

156 THE MOTOB BOAT CLUB

the cove where the strange white sloop lay almost continually at anchor.

While still a mile away from the crossing Tom caught a moment’s glimpse of some one in the road ahead, coming toward him. At this late hour, and fearful of a trap, Tom slid quickly from his wheel, drew it into a thick clump of hushes and hid himself.

He did not have long to wait before a man, sauntering and smoking, was close at hand.

All in a flash Halstead sprang into the road, landing so suddenly that the other fairly jumped.

‘ ‘ Mr. Evans! ’ ’ called Tom, in a voice thrilling with delight.

The revenue officer held out his hand, greeting the hoy with an amused smile.

“It’s good to he really sure you’re on earth,” Tom went on, fervently. “Mr. Prescott didn’t seem to know where you were, but he didn’t seem really worried.”

“Probably not,” smiled the revenue officer. “I sent him a note at the hotel informing him of my safety, and of the fact that I was extremely busy.”

“May I ask how far you’ve gotten into the mystery?” Tom whispered.

Donald Evans’ face clouded.

“I know,” he answered, “if anything, really

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less than I did when I left yon on the ‘Sunbeam’ the other night. ’ ’

Halstead recounted, hastily, as they drew in under the shadow of the trees, what he had discovered this night, and what Ah had done.

“Let’s.move fast on to the crossing,” cried the revenue officer. “What you’ve told me, pieced to what I knew but didn’t think was 'worth anything, ought to give us the answer to this whole big riddle! ”

CHAPTER XV

on THE HEELS OF THE MYSTERY

LEAVING his wheel well hidden, Halstead trudged briskly down the road, alone, keeping as much as possible in the

shadow.

Donald Evans preferred to keep in the wake of the boy—out of his sight, in fact. But Tom, knowing that the experienced and armed revenue officer was constantly within call, felt much safer with regard to any possible trap that mght lurk near him.

“What on earth happened to Evans, and how did he ever get away from the island alive ? ’ ’ Tom wondered. “But I suppose he doesn’t feel it necessary to tell me all he knows. ’ ’

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Suspense, wonder and the thirst for adventure put new speed into Tom Halstead’s feet. He had done a man’s big work already that evening, but now he was unaware of fatigue. The desire, too, to. get even with the wretch who had all but killed him, made the boy’s eyes flash.

He reached Tyner’s Crossing, which, at this late hour of the night seemed as lonely as the grave. He halted, looking uncertainly about. When he turned" again he beheld freckled Ab Perkins at his side, grinning as though at a huge joke.

“Say,” murmured Perkins, “it was the easiest ever! Your man didn’t seem to have any idea that he could be followed. I don’t believe he turned around once to look. Not that he’d have been likely to see me, if he had. But—say, who’s this hiking this way?”

“You’ll know, in a moment,” Tom made answer. “He’s all right, too—our king-pin in tonight’s work.”

Then Donald Evans came upon the scene. He accepted, gravely, our hero’s introduction of Ab.

“Now, tell us, Perkins,” urged the revenue officer, “what became of the man you followed to-night?”

“Well, you see,” grinned the auburn-haired boy, “he didn’t do much except to go to bed.”

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‘ ‘ That is, ’ ’ observed Mr. Evans, “yon followed him to a house, and you think he went to bed.’’ “Say, I didn’t take anyone’s word for it,” rejoined Ah, with an injured look. “I shinned a lightning rod, and I saw my man undress and blow out the light. Ain’t that enough1?”

“It ought to he,” admitted the revenue man, with a smile. “And now, whereabouts is the house ?’ ’

“ Disben’s farmhouse,” Perkins replied. “I guess it’s the headquarters place for the whole queer crowd.”

‘ ‘ That can hardly be, ’ ’ Mr. Evans broke in. “Guess again,” Ah challenged, promptly. “Why, Disben,” went on the revenue man, “is a farmer who follows rather an unusual line. Instead of raising the regulation farm-crops, he harvests and markets drug herb crops; sells his wares to the big drug houses.”

“I’m not saying he don’t,” Ab admitted. “But let me tell you something else. The man I followed to-night went up to the north side of Disben’s house. He let out a whippoorwill’s call, then repeated it. A man came to a window upstairs, and there was some low-voiced talk. Then Disben came to the door and let my man, the big fellow, into the house. After that, some of Disben’s suirposed hired men came downstairs, and the whole crowd had a long pow-wow,

160 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

though I couldn’t get close enough to hear what they said. Now, Mr. Evans, if the man I followed is crooked, doesn’t that make the whole crowd out to he queer ? ’ ’

The revenue man mused in silence for some moments.

“I’m afraid I’ve been rather foolish,” he said, at last. “Anyway, I seem to have gotten on the wrong track. By the way, boys, does either of you .know any of Disben’s hired men? Are they natives of this part of the country?” “No,” answered Tom. “Disben himself was brought up in this county, but he was away for a good many years. His hired men were all strangers when they came here.”

“How long has Disben been on this farm of his?”

“About two years,” Tom informed him. “And how long has that strange white sloop been seen at the cove?”

Tom and Ab glanced at each other with new light shining in their eyes before Tom answered: “That sloop was first noticed soon after Disben settled down on his present place. ’ ’

Mr. Evans was silent for some time, as though trying to connect this information with some other data in his mind. Whatever it was, however, he did not state. But at last the revenue man observed:

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161

“One of the cables has parted!’’ shouted Jed, through the increasing tempest Another and heavier squall struck them, again heeling the motor boat over. She righted herself, but the gale was becoming stronger, and, despite the remaining anchor, the “Meteor” now began to drift toward the lee shore of Muskeget.

Miss Elsie, deathly white, and clutching desperately at the lifelines, began to sob.

“It’s fearful, I know,” spoke Captain Tom, quietly. “But we’ve got to face it and hope for the best. You were admiring courage a while ago, but now you can show as much as any man could. ’ ’

“You’re right,” Miss Elsie called back through the roar of the gale, as she steadied herself. “Thank you; by pointing out the need of courage you’ve given me much.”

Tom turned to stare, with grave, impassive face, to leeward. An eighth of a mile off the beach at Muskeget lay a reef ordinarily sunken below the surface in calm weather. But now the waves were dashing over this ledge, showing the jagged points of the rough stone.

“If a miracle doesn’t happen,” thought the young skipper, noting the course of the boat’s drift, “we’ll wreck there soon, and then there’s a doubt if one of us gets out of it alive!”

II—Motor Boat Club at Nantucket.

162 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

CHAPTER XV

IN THE TEETH OE DEATH

«TT THAT’S the worst, now, captain?”

\\ It was Miss Jessie who asked this, her lips close to the yonng skipper’s ear, for the gale’s roar now drowned out all ordinary tones.

“Do you see that line of spray?” asked Halstead, pointing to where the water dashed over the reef.

'“Yes.”

“I’m wondering if it’s possible for us not to he dashed on that. ’ ’

“Wrecked?” demanded Jessie, her face paling, hut her lips steady.

“That’s one of our dangers.”

“And that will mean that we must he drowned?”

“We’ll hope not,” replied Halstead, forcing a smile. “Joe! Jed!”

Getting his friends where Mrs. Lester could not overhear, Halstead went on quickly:

“If we go to smash on the reef, remember that I’m to take the mother into the water. Joe, you take the elder daughter; Jed, you the younger one. If we have to get into the water

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with women’s lives to save, remember the glory of American seamen!”

“I’ll get ashore double, or not at all,” Joe promised, and he knew very well how little likelihood there was of reaching safety on land.

“I’ll prove I’m one of you,” promised Jed, though his face was ashen. Tom grabbed his hand long enough to give it a' mighty squeeze. Then the young skipper moved to the starboard rail where he could watch best. His calculations had proved correct. The ‘ ‘ Meteor, ’ ’ drifting helplessly, was bound to strike on the reef. "With fascinated gaze Tom watched the angry breakers.

“We’re pretty near the finish, aren’t we?” asked Miss Jessie in his ear. The girl’s voice was icily calm.

“I think we’re going to strike within two or three minutes,” Tom responded, stonily. “If we do, trust to us in the water, and try not to hamper us. I’ll try to get your mother ashore,

Jed takes you, and Joe your sis ”

Tom stopped short. Where on earth was Joe? That youth had vanished from the deck.

“Why, I thought Joe was here, right ready for his next duty,” cried Halstead, amazedly.

“Where ”

“He went below,” bawled back Jed. “But he’s not in the engine room.”

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“Then lie’s doing something that’s good, anyway, ’ ’ spoke Tom, with whole faith in his tried comrade. '

Once more the yonng captain turned to watch the line of breakers. The ‘ * Meteor ’ ’ was deadly close now, her staunch hull in imminent danger.

“Here—quick!” roared Dawson’s heaviest tones.

His head showed in the hatchway. He was handing through a metal can.

“And I’ve got another one,” he shouted. “Thought there must he some reserve aboard, so I explored the spare lockers aft. There— got it?”

For Tom had snatched up a five-gallon can and was lifting it to the covered deck forward. The “Meteor” was rolling and pitching under the lashing of the gale. Waves broke and dashed over that forward deck, but Joe, with a second five-gallon can, followed. Both boys had to crawl, feeling as though they were holding on by their teeth.

“You pour—I’ll shield the inlet from water!” shouted Dawson, over all the roar of the elements. “It’s life or death in a minute, now, old chum!”

Well enough Tom knew that, but he saw also the one bare chance of getting all hands out of their awful plight. Dawson crawled around to

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windward of the inlet to the gasoline tank, shielding it as mnch as he could with his body. He unscrewed the cap, while Tom removed the smaller top of one of the gasoline cans.

“Wait until the dash of the next_■wave is past,” shouted Halstead. “Then I’ll pour.” Though it took many precious moments, they contrived to empty the can into the tank without getting any salt water mixed with it.

~ “Now, another can!” breathed Joe tensely.

But Tom, raising his eyes to glance at the spray-ridden reef, answered quickly:

“Later. There isn’t a second to lose now. Hustle hack!”

The dragging anchor retarded the how of the boat somewhat. It was the stern that seemed about to strike the reef. While Joe worked liked lightning in the engine room Tom stood with both hands resting on the wheel. He dreaded, every instant, to feel the hump and the jar that should tell the news that the “Meteor” had struck. -

‘ ‘ What do you want I Speed ahead ? ’ ’ bawled up Joe.

“As quickly as you can possibly give it,” Tom answered.

Still Halstead stared astern. It seemed as though the reef were rising to meet the hull of the boat.

166 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

Throb! Chug! The motor was working, slowly. "With an inward gasp of thanksgiving Halstead swung the bow around a bit to port. The engine, weaker than the gale, must drag the anchor at least a short distance. Any attempt to raise it too soon might hold the boat to the danger line.

But Tom felt a sudden glow of happiness. The “Meteor” was forging slowly ahead. She would soon be safe, if the engine remained staunch. There was fearfully little oil in the tank, and he knew that the delivery of gas to the ignition apparatus must be very slight.

Out of the engine room came Joe in a hurry, signaling to Jed to follow him. The two crawled out, over that wet, slippery forward deck of the rolling, pitching boat, and managed to empty a second can into the tank. The engine was working better by the time that the pair regained the bridge deck.

“That’s enough to get us out of all trouble,” shouted Joe briefly. “We needn’t bother about the third one aft until we’re well out of this.” Captain Tom, watching the reef that they were slowly leaving behind, soon decided that it was time to haul in the anchor that had held. Joe $nd Jed accomplished this. The instant that the drag was clear of the bottom the “Meteor” shot ahead.

AT NANTUCKET    167

“Hurrah!” yelled all three of the young seamen, when that new start came.

“We’re safe, now, aren’t we?” inquired Mrs. Lester, bending forward, her eyes shining.

“Unless there’s some new trouble with the motor,” Tom answered her, “we ought to be hack at the Dunstan place in twenty minutes.” Now, Jed brought the third can of gasoline from the locker aft. He and Joe succeeded in emptying it. If all went well, there was now enough oil in the tank to carry the boat much further than she had to go. Even at that, however, the boat was running with less gasoline than she had ever carried in her tank before.

“There are Mr. Dunstan and his wife down at the pier, watching us,” announced Miss Jessie, as they came within eye-range of the Dunstan place. “They must have been dreadfully worried about us.”

“Now, I know what danger is, and just what courage and steadfastness men may show,” remarked Miss Elsie, as they passed south of a little headland that formed one of the shelters of the Dunstan cove.

“And you know how much grit women may show,” rejoined Halstead, “for not once did you give us any trouble. ’ ’

“Perhaps we were too badly frightened to make trouble,” laughed Jessie Lester.

168 THE MOTOB BOAT CLUB

“Well, you didn’t any of yon faint or have -hysterics after yon realized the danger was over, did yon?” retorted Captain Tom, laughing. “Yon can’t get away from the charge that yon all showed splendid courage as soon as' yon realized that we were in real danger.”

“But yon were planning to swim ashore with us from the reef,” said Mrs. Lester.

“I’m very, very thankful we didn’t have to try it,” replied Halstead, soberly. “It would have been one of those one-in-a-hnndred chances that I don’t like to have to take.”

Jed was busy, now, putting out the heaviest fenders along the port side of the hull. Even in the cove the waves were running at a troublesome height. Yet Tom and Joe, by good team work at their respective posts;ran the “Meteor” in alongside the pier, almost without a jar.

“I’m thankful you’re all back safe,” called Mr. Dunstan, coming toward them. “I would have been worried, Mrs. Lester, if I hadn’t known all about the captain and crew that had the boat out.”

But (when he heard about the hairbreadth escape from going on the reef off Muskeget Mr. Dunstan’s face went deathly pale. He asked the ladies to return to the house, while he boarded the “Meteor” and faced the boys anxiously.

AT NANTUCKET    169

“What on earth can it mean that the gasoline ran ont? ” he demanded. - “Dawson, are you absolutely sure that you had plenty of oil when you returned at daylight this morning?” “Positive of it, sir,” came emphatically from Engineer Joe.    ,

“Then that oil must have been pumped quietly out of the tank while you three slept almost the sleep of the dead,” exclaimed the owner.

“It was pumped out very early in the day, too,” Tom insisted. “Such a big quantity couldn’t have been pumped anywhere except overboard. It would have taken several barrels to hold what was ixuthe tank. Yet, by the time we were on deck, at a little after noon, there wasn’t a sign of gasoline anywhere on the water about us. The tide had carried it away. ’ ’ “I suppose anyone could have operated a steam-engine k over your heads and you boys wouldn’t have heard it this morning, you were so sound asleep,” mused Mr. Dunstan. “Yet it was in broad daylight that you berthed the boat. It must have been a daring man who would have come down openly through these grounds on such an errand. ”

“Unless—— ” began Halstead thoughtfully. “Well, unless—what, captain?”

“Mr. Dunstan, it’s possible, isn’t it, that one

170 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

of your men about the place may be disloyal to you? Sucb a man may have done this thing either to help your enemies, dr to satisfy some spite against you/’

I can’t think of a man in my employ I’d suspect of such a thing,” murmured the troubled man.

Plainly the owner was not the man to discuss this suspicion with. Toward dark, however, Tom and Joe went to one man on the place whom they believed to be above all suspicion. That was big Michael, the coachman. With Michael, they discussed the matter long and earnestly.    .

Though the honest coachman could tell them nothing definite, Tom Halstead went away from that talk on a new scent of danger ahead.

Dawson, too, was thinking hard, and, as a consequenece, was even more quiet than usual.

“Pin afraid it wouldn’t be much use to go to Mr. Dunstan with this,” sighed the young captain. “We’ll just keep our eyes open.”

AT NANTUCKET    171

CHAPTER XVI

FOLLOWING TJP THE CLUE

THERE was plenty to do by the time tbe boys got back to the pier. Jed, lone-1 banded, was pumping gasoline into tbe tank tbrougb tbe strainer. Several barrels of tbe oil bad been sent down to tbe water front. Stripping off tbeir coats, Tom and Joe turned to and helped.

Bouncer, tbe bull pup, was on band also, chained in tbe engine room. In view of tbe late near-tragedy Mr. Dunstan bad decided to keep tbe dog aboard, at tbe borne pier, hereafter, and bad brought Bouncer down himself.

“We’11 finish this job, Jed, if you’ll turn to and cook up a quick supper,” proposed Halstead.

“Anything on?” asked Jed, looking keenly at them.

“I shouldn’t wonder,” nodded tbe young captain.

Jed asked no more questions, but got a "tempting supper ready in close to record time. As they were eating Tom told Jed, in low tones, tbe little they bad discovered.

172 THE MOTOE BOAT CLUB

Briefly, it was this: The Dunstan gardener and greenhonse man was a Frenchman named Gambon. He was a quiet, even sulky fellow, who had made no friends among the other employes of the place. Mr. Dunstan had once rebuked the Frenchman for some carelessness. Michael had seen Gambon shake his fist after the employer as the latter was going away. This had happened four months ago.

There was not very much in that alone. But Gambon, who lived in a little two-room cottage all by himself, and who had no work to occupy him evenings, had always been in the habit of smoking and reading, then retiring early. For more than the last fortnight, however, Gambon had left the place every evening. Sometimes he was gone an hour; sometimes he had not returned until late. Two nights after Ted’s disappearance Michael, who had reported to Mr. Dunstan concerning the Frenchman’s actions, had been authorized to follow Gambon. The Frenchman, however, merely went to the Park in Nantucket and sat for a couple of hours on one of the benches, smoking and seemingly dreaming. Mr. Dunstan, when this' tame fact was reported to him, pooh-poohed Michael’s suspicions and forbade him to watch the Frenchman any longer.

“For,” said Mr. Dunstan, “watching any

AT NANTUCKET    173

man long enough is likely to make a half-rascal of him.”

“But, Captain Tom, when a very quiet man suddenly changes the fixed habits av year-rs,” said Michael earnestly, “then there’s likely a strong reason for it, and maybe a bad one. ’’

These were the facts that Tom and Joe now rehearsed, in undertones, to Jed.

“Does it look likely, from that,” asked Prentiss, “that Gambon would steal down here in early morning and pump our tank dry?”

“Michael saw him standing on the wharf, this morning, smoking,” replied Halstead. “Michael thought we must be up and about, though, so he didn’t pay any attention to the Frenchman.”

“Kind of a hazy clue, altogether, isn’t it?” queried Jed.

“It’s enough to be worth looking into,” Tom replied earnestly. “Do you realize that to-morrow is the last day that Mr. Dunstan has to_get Ted before the probate court? That, if he doesn’t do it to-morrow, the big inheritance of millions goes by the board? So anything is big enough to work on to-night. It’s our lashchance. Now Mr. Dunstan has assured me that the ‘Meteor’ won’t be ordered out to-night. Joe and I are going to watch the Frenchman. Jed, you’ll

174 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

want to stay right here by the-boat and beep a sharp eye on it, for Gambon may not he the one who is trying to pnt the ‘Meteor’ on the scrap heap. You’ll have Bouncer to help yon., Even if it came to taking tho boat over to Wood’s Hole, on a changed order, yon’re equal to it, aren’t yon?”

“Just give me the chance!” cried Jed. “I’d welcome it.”

As soon as dark fell Joe stole across the grounds at the further end, stationing himself by the road. Tom, on the other hand, hid himself not far from Gambon’s little cottage. This was the plan of the chums to prevent the Frenchman from giving them the slip, in case he had any suspicions. There was still a light in Gambon’s cottage. After half an hour, however, the light vanished. Then Gambon came out, carrying a thick walking stick.

Tom watched the Frenchman until he was out of sight. Then after him the young skipper went on tip-toe. It was not difficult to keep quietly on the trail, for the gardener appeared far from suspicious.

Then, minutes later, Joe stepped out from behind a tree, touching Tom lightly on the arm. They went along together.

“It’s easy so far,” whispered Halstead. “May he a reason,” answered Joe. “Our

AT NANTUCKET    175

Frenchman may have nothing to conceal. Perhaps he’s only going courting.”

As Michael had reported, the gardener’s route lay along the highway to Nantucket. The lights of the little town were in sight when Halstead suddenly gave Joe a nudge. Both dodged behind hushes. For the Frenchman had stepped oft the road under some trees. First looking around him, Gambon next bent over, moving a stone twice the size of his head. He picked up a piece of paper. Tom and Joe were breathing hard by this time.

Carefully replacing the stone, Gambon struck a match, scanning the piece of paper he held in his hand. In another instant he touched the flaming match to a corner of the paper, watching it burn up.

“Confound him for that!” muttered Tom in his chum’s ear.

Gambon was coming hack now. The two friends crouched lower behind the hushes. By them walked the Frenchman, looking straight ahead. As soon as it seemed wise to do so the chums started after him. They saw him, however, return to his cottage, where he lighted his lamp, smoked and by and by extinguished the light and went to bed.

“We’ve found the spy,” groaned Tom, as the two chums neared the pier. “It’s fearful luck,

176 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

Joe, that we couldn’t have known about him before. But it’s too late now for the knowledge to do us any good. To-morrow is the last day for Ted Dunstan to show up. After we see that the boat and Jed are safe I’ll run up to the house for a moment and see Mr. Dunstan.”

When Tom told their employer, a little later, what they had discovered that gentleman at first appeared considerably interested.

“I'm afraid, though, Halstead,” he commented, “that we’re all of us inclined to suspect anything and anyone. G-ambon is a bachelor and has saved a goodly bit of money. What more likely than that he may be courting a sweetheart? That would be a likely enough place for her to leave a note for him. Perhaps it was only a note as to an engagement that had to be broken for this evening, for, as you say, Gambon came right back. Whatever the note was about we’d probably feel rather ashamed if we forced the Frenchman to tell us about it. By the way, I am going to bed at once, now, for at at half-past five in the morning I shall want to start for Wood’s Hole. I’ve heard from Crane again, and he’s coming over with me at full speed, in order to be in court with me. We’re going to see if we can’t get an adjournment for one day. Of course, there seems little hope of it, as the terms of the will are so exacting. Oh,

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Halstead, I made a huge mistake in letting the matter go so long!”

There were tears in Mr. Dnnstan’s eyes. Halstead, mnch touched, hade his employer goodnight, returning to the boat.

CHAPTER XYII

JOE PLAYS JUSTICE A SCURVY TRICK

VER a sea “as smooth as glass,” that

fateful Monday morning, the “Me

teor” made a dashing run to Wood’s Hole. It was just five minutes of seven by the clock when the swift craft tied up at the village on the mainland.

All through the trip Horace Dunstan had remained seated in one of the armchairs in the cockpit aft. His head had been bowed in sorrow. His face was haggard and ashen, for he had not slept through the night.

On the pier awaiting him stood Mr. Crane, his lawyer, and Musgrave, who had been in charge of the force of detectives who had been vainly seeking the young heir.

“You have not a word of hope, of course, gentlemen?” asked Mr. Dunstan in a weak voice.

“There is no news whatever,” replied Musgrave.

13—Motor Boat Club at Nantucket.

178 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

“Our only hope,’’ added Crane, “lies in the

barest possibility tbat the court'may find some legal excuse for adjourning the matter for a few days and giving ns a chance for a longer hunt.” “May I put in a word?” asked Tom, who had keen standing close by.

“Yes,” assented Horace Dunstan.

, “How I know, and we all know,” Halstead went on, “that Ted Dunstan has been illegally spirited away and that it is simply impossible for his father to produce him in court. It is no guess-work, for I have seen Ted Dunstan, alive, and with Mr. Dunstan’s enemies. If you were to make the claim, Mr. Crane, and use me as a witness, would that help matters any in inducing the court to adjourn the matter? Could the court then legally postpone the bringing of the Dunstan heir into view?”

“I’m afraid not,” replied the great lawyer thoughtfully. “In the first place, the court would have only Mr. DunstarCs word for it that he is really anxious to produce his son in court. There would be no evidence that could corroborate Mr. Dunstan’s statement. As to your testimony, Captain Halstead, if it were admitted at all, it would work us the greatest harm, for you would be obliged to say, under oath, that Ted told you he was with those other people by his own choice as well as at his father’s command.”

AT NANTUCKET    179

Mr. Musgrave nodded. Horace Dunsta» bowed his stricken head lower.

' ■ . “I understand the force of what yon say, Mr. Crane, ’ ’ Tom nodded.

“Hush! Here comes Judge Swan now,” whispered the lawyer. “What can he he doing here?”

A portly, white-haired man, yet with a fresh, young-looking face, had just stepped onto the pier and came toward them. He was judge of the probate court over at Nantucket.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” he greeted pleasantly. Then, by a nod, he drew Lawyer Crane toward him, though the judge spoke loudly enough for the rest to hear.

“Are you going to have a ease to bring before me to-day, Mr. Crane?”

‘ ‘ Provided we can find young Theodore Dun-stan in time, your honor, ’ ’ answered the lawyer. “Our search has been unceasing.”

“I wish you the utmost measure of good fortune, then,” replied Judge Swan. “Under the terms of the will, as I understand them, this is the last day of grace that you have. But remember, court will be open up to the minute of four this afternoon.”

Mr. Crane thanked his honor. Every hearer present, however, realized that Judge Swan had answered, as far as his dignity and official posi-

180 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

tion permitted, Low any appeal for postponement must be answered from the bench. The motion wonld be denied.

The justice turned to stroll apart from the rest, but the lawyer kept at his side.

“ Judge,” he asked in an undertone, “since you know the whole of our painful predicament, can you offer me any suggestion ?”

“The most I can say, because it is the most I am able to say,” murmured the judge, “is that I sincerely trust that Mr. Dunstan and yourself will be able to produce young Theodore in court before four o’clock this afternoon.”

They soon turned, strolling back to the group. “I feel a good deal annoyed,” said Judge Swan, presently. “I was in Boston yesterday. My friend, Mr. Percival, was to start over to Nantucket with me at six this morning, in order that I might open court at nine o’clock. Mr. Percival wired me yesterday that his launch had broken down,' but the telegram must have reached Boston after I had gone to the train. So I must go over on the forenoon passenger steamer, I fear.”

“If we were going back sooner,” explained Mr. Crane, “my client would be most happy to give you a seat on his boat. But we feel that, if young Theodore Dunstan is found, it will be

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181

on the mainland. So we are waiting until the last moment.”

“Yet, if heaven favors us,” broke in Horace Dunstan, “we could take my son over on the regular forenoon passenger boat, and he in court this afternoon. The 1 Meteor’ could be hack here soon after the passenger boat leaves. So, Judge, may I offer you the use of the ‘Meteor?’ ”

“Do you mean that?” asked Judge Swan, looking at the owner in delight.

“Most assuredly,” replied Mr. Dunstan. “I shall be glad, judge, if yon will make use of my boat.”

“Then I shall accept with great pleasure,” replied his honor. “I know how swift your boat is.”

“Then, captain,” said Mr. Dunstan, turning to Halstead, “you understand your instructions, which are to get Judge Swan in Nantucket before nine o’clock this morning.”

“It’s the only boat in these waters that could do it,” Tom replied, with pardonable pride, as he sprang aboard.

“Come back, captain, as soon as you land his honor,” was Mr. Dunstan’s parting word. “If you pass the passenger steamer, watch for me at her rail. I may signal you.”

Before she had left the pier three hundred

182 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

yards behind, the nimble motor boat was going at better than twenty miles an hour. Gradually the speed was increased. Judge Swan stood on the bridge deck beside Tom.

“It is really exciting to travel on a boat like this,’’ commented his honor, presently. “You must enjoy it, captain.”

“I do sir, when the engine works all right, which it does usually, ’ ’ Halstead answered.-The sea as smooth as ever, and no hindering breeze blowing, the craft behaved splendidly, making within a notch of her best speed. In time they left Martha’s Vineyard behind and headed out toward the big, green island of Nantucket.

“The engine isn’t likely to break down this morning, is she?” asked the judge, who had just returned from a smoke aft.

“I don’t think so, sir. It would make a sad mix-up in your court work if we got stuck out here on the open sea, wouldn’t it, sir?”

“I imagine it would annoy my clerk a good deal,” replied Judge Swan, reflectively. “He would have to sit in court all day without me, and then, when four o’clock came, he would, in my absence, be obliged to declare court adjourned until nine o’clock to-morrow morning. ’ ’

“And in that case there wouldn’t be any le-

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183

gal session of the court to-day, would there, sir!”

“There couldn’t he a legal session in my absence. However, we’ll trust that your engine won’t meet with any mishap,” replied Judge Swan,, smiling and turning away.

Tom Halstead’s hands, began to tremble as he guided the wheel. There was a queer look in his eyes; his head was whirling a bit.

Had Judge Swan purposely given hiin a hint! It was a staggering thought, Halstead, when in doubt, was likely to think and. act quickly.

“Come and relieve me at the wheel for a few moments, Jed,” he called. Then, in a twinkling, the young skipper was down in the engine room.    1

“Joe,”, he whispered, breathlessly, to his chum, “the judge just informed me that, if anything went wrong with the engine, and we couldn’t make Nantucket before four o’clock, there would he no legal session of probate court.”

“Hid he mean that for a hint!” queried Joe, his look becoming keen.

“I’ll leave that for you to figure out, chum.”

“Where are we, now!” was Dawson’s next question.

Halstead informed him.

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“Say,” muttered Joe, “I wish you’d go up on deck and stay there a while. I want to attend to my work for a while.”

Tom went hack up on deck, lounging near Jed, at the wheel. It wasn’t long before the speed slackened. Then the boat slowed down to mere headway. Even this soon ceased.

“I’ll try not to hinder you long,” called up Joe, showing his face in the hatchway. “I think I can soon get the engine fixed. ’ ’

“Use all the speed you can, Joe, hut do it well, whatever has to he done, Tom answered. Then he made his way aft to report to Judge Swan that the engineer had said he hoped the motor would soon be in order again.

“Are there any hooks aboard1?” his honor wanted to know.

“There’s a book-shelf in the cabin, sir.”

Judge Swan disappeared into the cabin. The next time Halstead looked aft he saw the judge snug in one of the armchairs, reading.

The place was ideal for such a breakdown. The “Meteor” lay almost motionless upon the smooth sea, miles from land, with no troublesome reefs near. Under the awnings it was delightfully cool.

For an hour Joe remained in the motor room, neither Tom nor Jed bothering him with their presence. Then Tom went aft to see if their

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185

guest was comfortable. Judge Swan looked up with a pleasant smile.

“If I didn’t have that session of court on hand, captain, I wouldn’t mind if this break lasted all day. ”

“It wouldn’t be bad,” the young skipper assented. “We have a good larder and a fine young cook aboard. ’ ’

“How serious is the break?” inquired his honor.

“Why, Dawson reports that he hopes very soon to be under way again.”

“I hope he won’t hurry enough to interfere with thorough repair,” pursued Judge Swan.

When Tom went forward again it occurred to him to take a look down into the engine room. The sight that met his gaze was a surprising one. Joe was lying on his back on one of the lockers, the first time he had ever been asleep at his post!

The time dragged on slowly. His honor, being wholly comfortable and well occupied where he was, didn’t come forward to ask any questions.

“There’s the forenoon boat coming,” whispered Jed, at last.

“Confound it,” muttered Tom. “I wish I had thought to keep better out of her track. ’ ’

186 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

The passenger steamer soon signaled. Tom answered on the anto whistle.

Then the passenger steamer ran in closer to the motor boat. The captain of the steamer, standing before the pilot house, megaphone in hand, called over the waters:

“Are you in distress?”

“Only a temporary break in the engine,” Tom answered, through his megaphone.

“Do you need any assistance?”

“No, thank you,” Halstead responded.

“Do you wish to transfer any passengers?”

Judge Swan came forward to the young skipper. At the same time Tom saw Mr. Dunstan and Mr. Crane at the rail, among the boat’s passengers.

“How soon before you’ll be under way, Captain Halstead?” asked his honor.

Now, Joe being fast asleep, Halstead had to answer for his friend.

“Judge, we ought to be under way soon.”

“Then tell the captain of the steamer you’ve no passengers to transfer,” directed his honor, next starting aft once more.

“No passengers to transfer, captain, thank you,” Tom answered.

“All right, ‘Meteor.’ Wish you good luck!” A moment later, after both craft had whistled, the passenger steamer continued on.her way.

AT NANTUCKET    187

Now, it was too bad, of course, but noon came and found the “Meteor” still unable to proceed. Soon after that Jed appeared, setting up a table in the cockpit. A cloth was laid, and a pleasing luncheon spread before the delayed judge. Joe came to at the first mention olfood, and the three members of the crew ate forward.

“It’s a mean thing to have such a break out on the open, ” Joe complained, as he finished eating. “However, I’ll do the best I can for you.’’ The afternoon began to slip by. It was considerably after three o ’clock when Joe thrust his head up through the hatchway to say:

“Captain, if you’ll be satisfied to go at slow speed, I think we can make a start now.” “Then start her, and keep to whatever speed your judgment decides upon, ’ ’ Tom - replied. Making his way aft he informed Judge Swan.

111 am delighted to hear it, of course, ’ ’ replied that gentleman. “I must, however, give you credit for commanding a boat aboard which a very pleasant day of idleness can be enjoyed.” The “Meteor ” was soon going at a speed that seemed lame and halting for her. She made the harbor at Nantucket, however, at 4.20, and landed her distinguished passenger. Judge Swan shook hands with all three boys, thanking them for his pleasant day.

Knowing that Mr. Dunstan was not at Wood’s

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Hole, Tom decided to make the run straight to the home pier. Leaving Jed at the wheel, after they were ont of the harbor, the young skipper went below.

“ Joe,” he asked soon, “what was wrong with the engine!”

“The vaporizer,” Joe replied briefly.

“What ailed it!”

“Why, you see,” Dawson replied calmly, “after the speed stopped I disconnected the vaporizer and put it in one of the lockers. Then, somehow, I forgot all about that vaporizer for some hours. When I thought of it I got it out of the locker, wiped it off on some waste, connected it again—and then the engine began to behave fairly well.”

Tom’s lips puckered. Whistling, he turned his face. away from his chum, looking out through one of the portholes.

“What’s the matter!” inquired Dawson, looking up in some surprise.

“Joe,” retorted the young skipper, “don’t you think that was rather a scurvy trick to play on. justice!”

“Trick?” repeated Joe in an injured voice. “Well, if you call that a ‘trick,’ my captain, then all I have to say is that Judge Swan didn’t seem to be very much upset about it.”

“There having been no legal session of pro-

AT NANTUCKET    189

bate court to-day,” Tom went on, “that gives oiir friends one day of grace in which to find Ted Dunstan.”

“I wish it were a year more, instead of a day,” sighed Dawson.

“I wonder,” muttered Tom, as though talking to himself. “I wonder whether Judge Swan hinted himself aboard the ‘ Meteor ’ just so Joe could play that scurvy, unmannerly trick against the blind goddess of justice! I wonder!”

CHAPTER XVIII

THE MESSAGE UNDER THE ROCK

) so you’ve gained until another day,

anyway, sir,” Tom wound up his ac


count of the “accident” to the “Me

teor ’s ’ ’ motor.

“I fear it will do us but little good,” sighed "Horace Dunstan. “I feel that possibility in the way of search has been exhausted. It looks as-tliough we were doomed to defeat.”

“I don’t like to think, Mr. Dunstan, that any such thing as defeat is possible as long as there’s more time left us,” was Halstead’s answer.

“I trust, my young friend, that your faith will be justified.”

“Any instructions for to-night, sir!”

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“No; nothing remains to be done and you young men deserve your rest at last.”

“Then Joe and I may stretch our legs on shore.”

“That will he all right, as long as Jed Prentiss and Bouncer remain aboard to watch the boat.”

Joe started first that night, hurrying away before Gambon had left his cottage. Tom remained behind, in hiding near the gate, to fob low the Frenchman. Gambon came out, half an hour after dark, armed with the same heavy walking stick. As before, he turned straight in the direction of Nantucket, the young skipper following just out of sight.

To-night there seemed to be more need of caution. Several times the Frenchman turned or halted and listened, hut each time the young skipper was not to he seen.

Just before Gambon reached the grove where the rock lay Joe stepped up beside his chum.

“There’s a message there and I read it,” whispered Joe.

“What was it!” Tom eagerly demanded,. “Simply this: ‘Oceanside, 332.’ ”

“What do you make of that, Joe!” “Telephone number is my guess.”

‘ ‘ It must he. You put the message back under the rock!”

AT NANTUCKET    191

“Yes, indeed.”

“Then, see here, Joe. I’m going to slip into the woods and hurry on ahead to Nantucket.. I’ll find out where“Oceanside, 332,’ is. Yon follow Gambon, and see if he goes to a telephone. If he does, try to hear what’s said. Whatever yon do to-night, though, Joe, don’t let Gambon get ont of your sight. Remember, slim as it is, it’s onr last chance! ”

“And you?”

“All I can say,” Tom replied, “is that you’ll see me again, old fellow, whenever and where-ever we happen to meet. Good-by, now, and be sharp to-night. ”

‘ ‘ Good luck to you, Tom. ”

Moving through the woods, ■' Halstead was quickly in Nantucket. In, a drug store he picked up the telephone directory, scanning the pages until he located “Oceanside, 332.” He could have jumped from sheer excitement. It was the telephone number of the farmer, Sanderson, on the east side of the island. Sanderson was the man who had been receiving so many cases of “machinery” from the mainland.

Slipping out of the drug store, Halstead went swiftly down one of the side streets. He did not want to run any risk of encountering Gambon.

“So the scene shifts back to Sanderson’s?” thought the young skipper excitedly. “Then if

192 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

Don Emilio’s crowd isn’t there, there must at least he some one there who has authority to telephone orders to Gambon. Whatever those orders are Joe will have to find out—if he can. ’ ’ Down at the further end of' this side street, as Captain Tom knew, was a shop where a bicycle could be rented. Within two minutes the boy felt the saddle of a wheel under him. He pedaled fast, yet he did not take the principal highway that led past Sanderson’s.

“There’s too much chance of being seen by the wrong folks if I go openly on the main road,” Tom told himself.

• From Jed he had learned the lay of the roads in that part of the island. WTell trained to sailing by chart, Halstead found that he could pick his roads and paths, even at night, from the mental map of the east side of the island that Jed had supplied him.    \

When he dismounted it was on a side road, at a distance of a quarter of a mile from Sanderson’s house. Most of the land between was covered by young woods.

First of all, Halstead looked about for a thicket that offered a secure hiding place for .his rented wheel. When that had been stowed away the young skipper secured his bearings once more.

“And now to see what’s going on at Sander-

OF THE KENNEBEC    193

There was keenness in Halstead’s look, and his tone was brisk, but there was little about him that suggested anger. Returning the steady gaze thoughtfully, the stranger soon replied:

“I will come out in the open with you, then. I admit that I have reasons why I don’t want this craft in commission to-night. You look like a young fellow who is open to business.”

“What do you mean by that?” flared Tom suspiciously..

“Just this, my boy,” continued the stranger in a half-coaxing tone. / ‘ There are several little things that can be done to a motor so slickly that nothing can be proved, but any one of those things will put an engine out of business for a day or two. Now you do that and you and your friend keep your mouths shut, and ”

The stranger drew a roll of bills from an inner pocket.

“I’ll pay you each one hundred dollars for the little service.”

“You infernal scoundrel!” burst indignantly from Tom.

“Not. quite enough, eh?” smiled the other insinuatingly. “I can go just a trifle higher. I’ll make it a hundred and fifty apiece. That will take all the money I have with me. But, of course. I can also find good paying—very good

IS—Motet- J!cjt C.'nb of the Kennebec.

194 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

paying—jobs for yon both for tbe rest of the summer.”

“Stop your talk right there,” ordered Tom Halstead angrily. “Yon never had money enough to hire us to sell out folks who Ve trusted us.”

“But, my dear, foolish young friend, you seem to be throwing away the best chance for fortune you ever had. There’ll be other chances

to make money '”

“I’d sooner never have any money,” Tom retorted bluntly.

“Then how can we come, to terms?” -“We can’t—not your kind of terms,” Halstead uttered coldly.

“Then what can we doj’’

“You can’t do anything. As for me, I’m going to run back to Bayport and signal from the river until I bring men down to the pier who’ll take good care of you for the United States Government.”

With a few brisk turns at the wheel Tom Halstead brought the “Sunbeam’s” bow around, pointing her nose back at the river’s mouth.

“Then,” spoke the stranger hoarsely, “you force me to take this craft over into my own hands! ”

To a pocket under his coattails his right hand shot back, resting on something gleaming.

OF THE KENNEBEC    195

CHAPTER XIX

OFF FOR <CTHB BIG EIGHT ’’

OTJGrH Tom Halstead did not see tlie


weapon, lie nnderstood the move. His


eyes flashed, hnt he did not let go of the wheel with either hand. He had no need to.

Joe, hovering behind the stranger, lifted the wrench that he had snatched np in the motor room.

His aim as true as his arm was swift, Joe bronght the head of that wrench down on the fellow’s right elbow.

There was a yell of pain from the wretch as his arm fell away from the weapon. But Joe did not stop there. Following np his attack instantly with a dexterons trip and shove, Dawson sent the fellow face downward to the deck and fell npon him.

“What’s this? A pistol?” growled Joe, snatching the weapon from the stranger’s hip pocket and tossing it contemptuously over into the water. “Nobody hut a coward carries such a thing as that among decent people. Now lie still, yon, or I shall get mad and hurt yon!” *Dazed at first by the suddenness of the attack, the discomfited prowler was now trying to

196 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

throw the valiant Joe off his back. Bnt that youngster hung, and even tapped the rascal lightly on the head with the wrench.

“You forget I’ve got the upper hand here,” warned Joe coldly. “You’re not going to get away, or get the best of us, no matter what we have to do to stop you.”

“You’ve won; I’m out,” almost whined the stranger. He had just tried to use his right arm, and had found that while that member was not broken it pained him so that it could not be depended upon in a scrimmage.

Tom had kept a watchful eye on the encounter, ready to leap to his chum’s aid if needed. Now, by the deck control, Halstead ' stopped the engine.

“Keep him quiet, Joe,” counseled the young skipper, “until the headway is spent. Then I’ll drop the wheel and help you to take care of him. ’ ’

“It won’t need two of you,” came from the prostrate, beaten man. “With my right arm fit for a sling an infant could handle me.”

But Tom stood by the wheel a few moments, then left it to look down at captor and captive. Joe Dawson sat calmly astride the fellow, ready to use the wrench at the first sign of need.

“Keep him there, Joe, and I’ll get a bit. of cord,” said Tom dryly. He disappeared

OF THE! KENNEBEC 197

into the motor room, but was gone only an instant.

See here, yon ’re not going to tie my hands,’’ pleaded the stranger. “My right arm is next door to broken. Ton’ll pnt me in tortnre if yon force my right hand behind my back. ’ ’

“We’ll have to try that and see,” retorted Tom as he, too, knelt on the deck. “Pnt both yonr hands behind yon—quickly! ’ ’

Tom had to take hold of the fellow’s right arm before he wonld obey. The prisoner made a lot of fnss abont it, bnt Halstead, patient, firm and yet hnmane, forced the man’s right wrist behind him, and was satisfied that the act cansed no severe pain.

With that the left wrist was pnt in place beside its mate. While Joe still held the wrench in readiness Tom tied the two wrists together with some masterly hitches and knots that a seacoast boy is likely to know.

“Now let’s help him to his feet, Joe, and take him into the cabin,” proposed the yonng skipper. The prisoner was made as comfortable as possible on a seat.

“Let me have yonr handkerchief, Joe,” desired Tom, taking out his own.

“See here, what are yon going to do?” demanded the prisoner uneasily.

“You’ve lost even the right to inqnire,” came

198 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

Halstead’s cool retort. “Calm Mm, Joe, if lie shows signs of nervousness.”

This ironical advice Dawson interpreted exactly by stepping closer to the stranger and holding the wrench in a most businesslike manner.

Tom quickly forced a gag into the prowler’s mouth and made it securely fast.

“I hate to do that to you,” admitted Halstead, and there was a tone of real reluctance in his voice. “But to-night’s business is a big one, which you probably know as well as we do, and we can’t allow the United States Government to he beaten for want of a couple of handkerchiefs placed where they’ll do the most good.”

The prisoner’s eyes gleamed with rage, hut he could, of course, make no verbal answer.

“Now I think you’d better stay here with him, Joe, just to prevent accidents,” finished the young skipper. “Take a look at this impulsive gentleman once in a while, you know. ’ ’

With which, and laughing lightly, Tom -bounded up onto deck, going forward. Yet, despite his laughter, he was somewhat worried. Of course, he and Joe had a right to defend • themselves. Just how much right they had, not only to make a prisoner of the fellow, but ac-

OF THE KENNEBEC 199

tually to gag Mm, Tom was not quite sure. Had Mr. Evans been aboard it would have been a different matter, for be was an officer of tbe national Government.

“However, I’m doing it on bis account,” reflected Halstead, “so I hope it’s all legal and square. ”

For a few moments be remained in tbe motor room when he reached tbe forward end of tbe drifting boat. When be came on deck once more, and started tbe craft, it was almost a limping “Sunbeam” that once more began to move through tbe water.    '    '    '

Tbe boat did not, in fact, now make more than six miles an hour. After a few minutes of this Dawson’s curiosity proved too big to contain all within himself. Thrusting bis bead up over tbe deck-house lie called forward:

“What ails tbe speed, Tom?”

“You’ll find out, by and by,” came tbe mysterious answer. But Halstead’s illuminating wink prevented Dawson from becoming downhearted over tbe crawling pace of tbe boat. “ Joe, when we get near land, make your man lie on tbe floor of tbe cabin. I don’t want him seen by anyone ashore. ’ ’

“Naturally not,” Dawson replied, with a grin of understanding. Then be vanished into tbe cabin, while Tom once more gave bis whole at-

200 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

tention to handling what seemed a most erippled •boat.

Even when they had entered the river, Bay-port seemed a long way off. But at last the “Sunbeam” headed slowly in toward the pier. There was a crowd out there and along the beach, for the late afternoon was one of the popnlar times of the day with the summer guests.

Tom ran in close enough to the pier to speak the shore easily, though he made no attempt to land. Thereupon Donald Evans hurried down from the hotel and,out to the end of the pier.

1 £ Come right in alongside, captain, ’5 he called.

“I—I’d rather not,” Tom called back, with pretended hesitation.

“Why not?”

“Well, I—I—we haven’t been Careless, Mr. Evans, I’m sure we haven’t, but—but—”

“Come right out with it, Halstead. What’s the matter?” demanded Donald Evans, impatiently, and looking worried.

“I don’t know, sir,” the young skipper replied, “what is the matter. But the engine isn’t working right. You saw us coming up the river? That was the best possible speed we could make, and everything aboard feels and looks as though we’d break down at any instant. Honestly, sir, I’m afraid to tie up, for fear we can’t get started

OE THE KENNEBEC 201

again. There’s Dick'Davis; get him to bring yon ont alongside in a skiff. ’ ’

Though he was much worried, Donald Evans obeyed this request, calling Dick to him at once. Meanwhile, scores of other people who had overheard were possessed by at least mild curiosity.

Mr. Evans was quickly on board, while Dick, in the small boat, held to the bridge-deck rail. Tom led the revenue officer down into the motor room. There he told rapidly what had happened, finishing with:

“The engine isn’t hurt, sir. Never was in finer shape. But the Disben crowd of rascals sent a man here to hurt the engine. We’ve got that tool of theirs where he can’t send a signal to them, and my lie was meant to throw them off the scent, in case they’ve anyone over there on shore watching for news of us..”

“Tom Halstead, you’re clever enough for ten boys! ’ ’ beamed the revenue officer, gripping our hero’s hand. “You’re great!”

“Did we do right in tying and gagging the fellow as we did!”

‘ ‘ Quite right, ’ ’ nodded Mr. Evans. “ I ’11 take the whole responsibility for that.”

“But what are you going to do with him, Mr. Evans-? It won’t be wise to take him ashore, now, will it?”

“Not by any means,” retorted the revenue

202 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

man. “He stays aboard until this night’s work is over and he can’t do us any further harm. There’s no jail here that holds United States prisoners, so I’m hound to keep him here until I can take him to a proper place of detention. Now, I’m going to the cabin for a look at the scoundrel.”

While Mr. Evans was so engaged, Tom found chance to explain to Dick in low tones, after he had first dropped an anchor over to hold the “Sunbeam” where she lay.

As Mr. Evans came out of the cabin he looked very grave, but—

“G-ood boys, both of you!” he whispered, ex-ultingly, as he passed Tom. “I’ve put on handcuffs in place of that cord. ’ ’

^ With that the revenue man stepped down over the side. Dick rowed him ashore. Both showed very long faces as they stepped from the skiff to the pier. Tom looked after them with a fine pretense of concern.

1 ‘ Mr. Evans! ” he called, over the water. “Well?” returned the owner’s cousin. “Shall I bring the boat in to the pier?” “No,” came the answer, in a cold voice that deceived all the listeners. “Stay where you are. Don’t touch the engine until I come aboard after I’ve had my supper.”

So Tom seated himself on the end of the deck-

OF THE KENNEBEC    203

house, acting as though he were trying not to look the picture of woe and anxiety. It was a fine piece of acting, that hoodwinked everyone on shore. Matt Bragg, the bully, got wind of what had “happened,” and came swaggering out on the pier.

“Eh-yeh! Fine skipper, ain’t ye?” jeered Matt across the water. “Think ye know all about running a boat, smarty, but ye can’t do a thing ’cept smash it up!”

“Fine and manly you are, Matt Bragg,” retorted Tom, sourly. “All you can think of is to jump on a fellow after he’s down.”

“Eh-yeh!” grinned Matt. “Afraid ye’re goin’ to lose yer job, ain’t ye? Well, losin’ a job is ’bout all ye ever was fit for!”

Tom turned his face away, as though unable to endure the taunts, and Matt, after a parting shaft of sarcasm, hurried away to tell everyone he met how Tom and Joe bad put a valuable racing motor boat out of commission. This was just what our hero had hoped he would do.

“Disben must have some watch around here, to keep track of what happened to us,” reflected Halstead. “So it’ll be funny if he doesn’t get word that our sting is drawn.”

If Mr. Evans was “angry” he showed himself at least generous, for he sent aboard from the hotel, by Dick, a most bountiful supper,

204 . THE MOTOB BOAT CLUB

which Tom and Joe ate in the cabin while Davis remained on deck to prevent any curions ones from coming alongside.

_ It was just before dark when Mr. Evans, Dick and Ab finally came oft in the skift, to the stem of which a line was tied, the other end in the hand of a hotel porter who hanled the skift pier-ward after the trio had come on board.

“Now, get under way,” directed Mr. Evans;

“As soon as we can, and the best we can?” inquired Halstead, with a meaning look.

“Yes, of course.”

Dick had gone to the cabin to relieve Joe, who now stepped down into the motor room. When the “Sunbeam” finally got away, chugging slowly, dismally down the river, the glances of quite a crowd of curious ones followed the craft from shore and pier.

“Say, it does seem tough to have to pretend, even, that we’re crippled,” said Tom to the revenue man, “when we’re just making the start on ‘the big night.’ ”

OF THE KENNEBEC 205

CHAPTEB XX

THE SEA TRAP

44"1" HOPE it does prove 'to be' ‘the big I night,’ ” replied Donald Evans, wistfully. “My boy, I’ve been a long time hoping to put this matter through successfully.” “Big luck to you to-night, then,” said the young skipper earnestly.

- “Why, Halstead, if I do succeed, the credit will be due more to you than to myself. Due to you and Dawson, and, in lesser extent, to Perkins and Davis. If we go through to success tonight, don’t think I shall ever imagine that I did most of it.”

As they were out of earshot of the shore now, Donald Evans looked down at the water that seemed to move but sluggishly past them, and chuckled heartily.

“You find out, Tom, that that crowd had sent a man to cripple the engine, and you come in limping, with a long face. And you keep the enemy guessing as to what became of the fellow they sent to do the job. That is genius, lad!” The revenue man laughed heartily. Tom himself felt some pride in his and Joe’s achievement.

206 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

“If those fellows have found a boat that can sail at all, they’ll expect to run away from us like the wind, in case we show up, ’ ’ went on the revenue officer. “Why, Tom, the ‘Sunbeam’ acts like a tub. One would think it would take us nearly all night to cross the river.”

In truth, the “Sunbeam” was acting a little worse than she had done in making Bayport late that afternoon. As Mr. Evans said, anyone in a good, fast sailing boat, with the wind that was stirring to-night, would have no fear of being overtaken by this creeping, halting motor boat.

The moon would not rise until midnight. Out over the open sea there was a bit of haze, besides.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you,” hinted the young skipper, presently.

“Go ahead and ask,” suggested Mr. Evans.

“Of course, if you don’t think it best to answer, you won’t.”

“Of course not,” replied the revenue man, quizzically.

“I’ve been wondering, sir, what happened to you the night you took the tender and rowed away to Smugglers’ Island?”

Donald Evans laughed enjoy ably.

“I thought that would puzzle you a good

OF THE KENNEBEC 207

deal,” he admitted. “But there wasn’t anything very strange about that night. You see, I got to the island all right. Nothing happened in the landing. I even hid the small boat, as I thought, without being discovered.”

“That’s about the way it started with me,” hinted Tom.

“Well,” continued the revenue officer, “for some time I prowled over the island—very cautiously, you understand—without running into a sign of anything mysterious or hostile. Apparently, I was the only human being on . the island. I even got round to the north side of the island, where the cove was. There lay the white sloop.”

' “Then you knew there was some one on the island!”

“Yes, of course. So then I started to go over the center of the island, going as stealthily as an Indian would. Halstead, it rather got on my nerves to go up all over the top, as I had been all round the sides, and yet not find a sign of a human being. All the while I knew there must be men there, or how could I account for the presence of the sloop ? ’ ’

“It must have been puzzling,” admitted Halstead.

“Finally, my boy, I stepped on a small stone, and set it rolling. Then, all like a flash, came

208 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

a gruff hail. I didn’t answer, but stood still behind a bush. Bang! went a pistol ”

“The shot that Joe and I beard,” broke in Tom.

“That bullet fanned my face so close that I could feel the beat from the lead,” continued Donald Evans.

“You didn’t shoot back, did you1?”

“No; I didn’t want the folks of the island to find out that there was any spy at band. I stood absolutely still for a few minutes. Then I got away as silently as I could. While I was getting away I beard some one prowling about the bushes where I bad stood.

“After thinking the matter over further, I decided to get aboard the sloop and bide, hoping I’d overbear enough to set me on the right track. So I got back to where I’d left the tender. I turned her over and set her adrift, for I saw that wind and current would carry her out from the island. Then I worked round to the sloop.

“There seemed to be no one aboard. A skiff lay so that I could step in, and thence to the sloop. She was deserted. In the cabin I found a locker that suited my purpose. It was nearly-filled with cordage. I got that truck out, and myself in, then pulled the cordage back over me. I felt pretty safe, and so I was. It was

OF THE KENNEBEC 209

pretty nearly two hours before anyone came aboard. Then, as I judged by the voices, five men came. They growled and swore a bit about things in general, but soon put off. They anchored in the cove off Disben’s farm. I had my trip in safety to land, but I didn’t learn anything. ’ ’

“You must have been sailing to shore,” observed Halstead, “at about the time that that big Ben was burying me up to my neck. ’ ’

*1 Probably, ’ ’ agreed Mr. Evans. 1 ‘ Of course, I didn’t dare to leave the sloop until long after the others had gone. Then I concluded that, since I had disappeared, I might as well remain out of sight for the time being. Later I found a chance to send my cousin, Prescott, a note letting him know that I was safe. After that I hung about the Disben neighborhood, trying to locate the crew that used the sloop. But I’ll admit that, until you and Ab Perkins helped me out, I was taken in by Disben’s pretenses that he raised drug herbs, and that he really didn’t know who the strangers were that had paid him for the right to moor a boat in his cove.”

Ab had stood behind, listening. He was so interested that he actually forgot to say anything. But now the freckle-faced youth began to dance a clumsy jig.

14^-Metor Boat Club of the Kennebec.

210 THE MOTOB BOAT CLUB

“What’s that for?” smiled Donald Evans.

“Why, we’re ont after excitement, ain’t we?”

“Yes,” nodded the revenne officer.

“Well,” went on Ah, almost plaintively, “if you knew how mighty little excitement there •usually is in a small town, you’d know just how I feel, now the fbig night’ has come.”

11 Go ahead and make all the racket you want, then,” laughed Mr. Evans. “Get it all done at once, so that you won’t feel tempted when the time comes that we absolutely must have silence. ’’

Saying which the revenue officer sauntered aft, to take a look at his prisoner and to try to extract some information from him.

The prisoner, still handcuffed and gagged, lay on the floor, Dick sitting over him, watching him with even more alertness than was required. As to talking, however, that was something to which the prisoner couldn’t he coaxed or driven, not even for the pleasure of keeping that gag-out of his mouth.

“Say,” demanded Joe, plaintively, thrusting his head up through the motor room companion-way, “how much longer does this engine stay broken?”

“Find it tough to keep up the farce?” smiled down Captain Tom.

“Why, say,” admitted Dawson, “treating a

OF THE KENNEBEC 211

bang-up motor like this makes me feel so ashamed that I want, to hide my face. It doesn’t seem half-decent. It’s like a reflection on my knack for handling an engine.”

“If we run into what we hope to to-night,” Tom replied, gravely, “you may yet have a chance to distinguish yourself.”

“And I feel creepy, too,” went on Joe, pointing to the extinguished side lights. There was no light at the masthead, either, nor anywhere save for the one electric bulb over the motor, and another single light in the cabin, whose porthole curtains were drawn.

“The lights are oft by order of Mr. Evans. He’s an agent of the Treasury Department at Washington, and has the right to order the lights out in coastwise navigation,” Tom rejoined.

“I know it,” assented Joe, stepping up on deck. “Yet sailing a craft at night without lights makes me feel like a pirate just the same.” They were passing out on the open ocean now, and Donald Evans came again on deck. The weather, though not stormy or threatening, was growing thicker with haze, as is likely to be the case off the Kennebec in summer.

“How far do you think we can be seen, captain?” asked the revenue officer.

“At half a mile a keen-eyed man might catch

212 THE MOTOE BOAT CLUB

sight of us, with our lights off, Tom replied. “But in this haze, at a mile, I believe we are safe from detection, unless one is using a night glass.”

“The engine isn’t making noise enough to he heard a mile?”

“Not over the noise of the water.”

* ‘ Then, to he reasonably safe, don’t run in within a mile and a half of Smugglers ’ Island, ’ ’ ordered the revenue officer. “And cruise about; don’t lie to.”

Tom repeated his orders, that there might be no misunderstanding. Lighting a cigar, Donald Evans seated himself on the deck-house, looking as though he had not a care in the world; as if, in fact, he were seriously thinking of . turning in soon for the night.

Tom lessened the speed still more, to Joe’s secret disgust. But everything depended on stealth and trick, not on an engineer’s sentiment. To those aboard it seemed almost as though the “Sunbeam” were merely drifting. Yet she covered the few miles needed to take the position ordered by the revenue officer. As she reached that position Mr. Evans took the night glass.

“Don’t move more than you have to back and forth, captain, to hold about this place,” he directed.

OF THE KENNEBEC!

213

For some minutes lie carefully examined botli tlie north and south sides of Smugglers ’ Island through the night glass.

“Do you make out anything at the cove, captain?” he asked finally, passing the glass to our hero.

Halstead spent some time looking through the glass.

“I don’t believe there’s any craft in the cove, nor anyone moving there,” Tom replied finally. “But now and then it seems to me that there’s some one moving along the beach at the south side.

“That’s what I thought I saw,” commented Mr. Evans.

“And there seems to be something—a scow or rowboat—putting off from the beach. If we go a little more to the south’ard I think perhaps we can see more.”

“Do so,” nodded the revenue man.

Slowly and carefully Tom advanced the position of the “Sunbeam,” while Mr. Evans kept the glass to his eyes.

“By Jove, there’s something out on the water—a larger craft of some sort, I should say. The haze makes it hard to tell exactly what the shape is that I see. You look, captain. ”

Again Tom held the night glass to his eyes.

214 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

“It is a craft; not exactly a small one, either, sir. But I can’t make out any mast. What would you think, Mr. Evans, if Disben’s crowd are using a motor boat to-night?”

“That wouldn’t surprise me any,” came the cool answer. “It'would show how afraid they are of us, yet how determined they are to put some big move through in spite of any chance. If they have a power-driven craft to-night, then it’s because they’re bent on showing a clean pair of heels to any pursuer. ”

“They’re loading, that’s sure,” mused Tom as he continued to watch through the glass. Then they must have some hiding place on the island, even if we couldn’t find it.”

“What more likely than that they have a cave on the island, as they have on the mainland?” asked Donald Evans.

“True,” nodded Tom.

“I wonder if they’d feel disturbed if they knew we are out here?” mused the revenue man.

“Very likely they do know it, sir,” said Tom quietly. “Disben and his friends could have a night glass as well as we. Are you going to move in on them, Mr. Evans?”

“Not until that craft yonder gets under way. I’d rather catch them on the water with a full

OF THE KENNEBEC 215

cargo of smuggled goods aboard—if that’s what they’re loading with.”

Tom, in order that he might keep up the watch with the night glass, called Ab to take the wheel. Ab wanted to talk some of his excitement off, but Tom shut him up more sternly than he had ever done before, explaining that silence and watchfulness were needed more than talk.

For another hour the watchers on board the ‘ ‘Sunbeam ’’ waited. Then suddenly they awoke to the fact that the other craft was under way, coming toward them.

“Stick to the wheel, Ab,” ordered Tom tensely. “Joe, you’ll soon be able to save your feelings by humping the motor up.”

Tom himself reached for the searchlight, ready to turn it on when the proper moment should arrive. Donald Evans ran back to the cabin where he had left a suit case. He soon returned, fitting together the halves of a take-down repeating rifle. This done, he slipped several cartridges into the magazine.

“That has a businesslike look,” muttered Ab.

“Never mind,” Tom interposed. “Stick to your wheel, old fellow.”

The other craft went somewhat to port. She

216 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

seemed likely to pass, going west, half a mile from the “Sunbeam.”

“Let them get opposite,” directed Mr. Evans. “Then throw the light on them and give chase.”

Tom ordered the bow swung round so that the “Sunbeam” should head west.

Too-oot! too-oot! Over the waters came a derisive pair of blasts from an auto whistle, as the other craft began to forge rapidly ahead through the water.

“Now go after ’em!” breathed Mr. Evans tensely.

In an instant Halstead turned on the searchlight and swung its dazzling ray across the waves until the keen light, piercing the thin haze, rested across the other boat. '

Too-oot! came the other’s whistle mockingly. “Give us more speed, Joe! Ab take an oblique course to go after them! ’ ’ called Tom.

At the rail of the strange boat several long-coated figures, hats drawn down over faces, stood to watch the discomfiture of the supposedly crippled “Sunbeam.” Their taunting yells came over the water as Captain Tom Halstead’s craft leaped forward in chase. In another instant those yells died out, for they saw that the “Sunbeam” was far from being disabled.

OF THE KENNEBEC 217

Donald Evans sprang to the port rail, cocking the rifle, bringing the bntt to his shoulder. He fired well ahead of the other craft.

That single shot over the hows was the signal for the suspected smugglers to lie to for the “Sunbeam” to come alongside.

CHAPTER XXI

CAPTORS OR CAPTIVES!

THAT the command carried by that shot was not to be obeyed was almost instantly apparent. From the auto whistle of the strange craft came several short, jerky blasts, as though the fugitives were mocking the pursuers.

“More speed, Joe, but don’t crowd it all on at once,” Tom commanded.

At the time the shot was fired the stranger was making about sixteen miles an hour. This was soon increased by at least two miles. Halstead, not wanting to heat his engine too rapidly, did not crowd matters at once. In fact, during the first few minutes, he lost ground in the race. It became a stern chase, and it was bound to prove a grim one.

Amidships, aft and over the deck house the

218 THE MOTOB BOAT CLUB

stranger was well piled with, packing cases, as the “Sunbeam's” searchlight showed. Probably a lot more of merchandise was stored away below. On the decks they conld make out at least eight of the enemy from the pursuer’s bridge deck.

Then as Joe, wholly willing, obeyed the order to get a little more speed out of the motor, the “Sunbeam” appeared to he gaining. Only for a few moments, though, for the stranger soon proved that she, too, was fast. She let out several notches of speed that left the second craft further to the rear.

“Now make the engine pound, Joe, though not quite the limit,” Tom bawled down hoarsely. Out in clear water, with some one else to guide him, Ab was a safe and excellent helmsman. He kept the prow of the “Sunbeam” pointed right at the stern of the stranger. Again the pursuer began to gain, though not for long. The stranger managed to show another spurt of speed.

“Now go the whole limit—the whole twenty-six miles, Joe, if you think the motor’ll stand it,” Captain Tom shouted excitedly down the companionway. Dawson had .been waiting for this order, fairly aching for it. He had nursed his engine along that it might be prepared for the last jump of speed. He opened up every-

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thing, then sat hack, watching the motor with the pride of love.

The stranger had been sending hack a series of taunting toots, but soon this cease(d. Dis-ben’s crowd, if they were the ones aboard the stranger, had evidently discovered that there might he such a thing as boasting too soon.

Tom stood beside the wheel, the night glass at his eyes. Suddenly, as they came nearer the stranger, there was a new note in the young skipper’s voice.

“Look out, Mr. Evans. They’re bringing rifles to the stern of the vessel ahead!”

“They are, eh?” asked the revenue officer quietly. “Going to fight us, eh? Then things are going to be lively!”

Hardly had he finished speaking when a bright-red flash shot over the stern of the stranger.

Kzzz-zew! sped a bullet through the air not many feet above the “Sunbeam’s” bow.

“We’ll show ’em we don’t stand for that!” snapped the revenue man. He raised the rifle quickly, taking fair aim at the sternpost of the stranger. Bang! He sent the law’s answer after the law-breakers. For, whatever else the stranger might be doing, she was breaking the law by carrying no light. The “Sunbeam’s” own lights were on now;, even earlier in the

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night Halstead had had the Treasury Department’s authority for running without them.

Tom watched through the night glass for the effect of that shot.

“Did I seem to hit anyone, lad?” queried the revenue man.

“I think not, sir,” was Tom’s quiet answer.

Three more flashes showed, almost together, at the stem of the stranger. The fugitives plainly were desperate, reckless, when they dared offer such direct resistance to the law of the land.

Two of the bullets sped by harmlessly overhead. The third struck the woodwork close to the freckle-faced hoy at the wheel, making him start back. Then the young helmsman stood straight again, lifting one hand to shake his fist at the stranger.

“You don’t scare old Ah Perkins out of any fun that way, consarn yel’Mie yelled angrily. Mr. Evans coolly answered with two rapidly aimed shots.

“Hit anyone, Tom?” he again inquired.

“I think not, sir.”

“Marksmanship is a difficult thing in the dark, and it seems about equally hard in the glare of the searchlight.”

Two more shots flashed out from the stranger’s stern.

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“Consarn ’em!” yelled Ab. “ They ’re firing for our searchlight!”

- Such seemed to he the case, for the fugitives now began to fire faster and several of the bullets swinged by close to the searchlight. Yet a few of the bullets whizzed by close enough to give the trio on the “Sunbeam’s” deck a mighty unpleasant knowledge of what it meant to be under fire.

“Now hold the light right on them,” directed the revenue officer. “This nonsense has got to stop. I’m going to do my best to wing a man at every shot.”

The next time that Donald Evans fired one of the men huddled at the stranger’s stem was seen to topple over. Yet a second later the revenue man himself gave a quick little gasp of pain.

“Yes, but that’s fair. It’s give and take now, Halstead. Here, take my rifle, while I examine and fix up my shoulder.”

Tom took the weapon just as Dick Davis, unable longer to remain idle in the cabin, came running forward.

“I’ve got to have some of this,” he breathed his eyes flashing.

“Keep that gun of mine going,, Halstead,” commanded Mr. Evans sharply.

Tom almost flinched. He had stood there

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bravely enough moving the searchlight while hostile bullets raced by. But shooting at human beings seemed another matter.

“I—I don’t know about ” he began, but

the revenue officer broke in commandingly:

“Fire as fast and straight as you can into that crowd. Bowl ’em over, if you can. They’re law-breakers escaping a United States officer. In the name of the Government I order you to shoot to hit!”

That settled the last of Halstead’s doubts.

“Take care of the searchlight, Dick,” he panted. “Throw the ray in their eyes, if you can. ’ ’

Planting himself firmly against the forecastle, young Halstead waited only an instant to get the hang of the sights along the rifle. Then he fired, once, twice, thrice. They were so close now that at the third shot he could see one of the men at the stranger’s stem fall back. It gave Tom an odd feeling for an instant, to realize that he had hit a human being. But he was doing soldier’s duty now, and for the Government. He fired until the magazine was exhausted.

Mr. Evans, -having scorned to go below to treat his wound, which was through the fleshy part of his right shoulder, had his coat off and his sleeve rolled up.

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“You’ll find cartridges. enough in my coat pocket, Halstead,” muttered the revenue man. Tom knelt and swiftly filled the magazine. Dick was now having his first exciting taste of being under fire, for the searchlight proved the fairest target aboard the “Sunbeam.” Ab, at the wheel, had heard several bullets strike about him, but with all his boastfulness the frecklefaced boy was no coward. Joe’s head was above the companionway, his nostrils sniffing the battle. , Then Tom rose again, bringing the rifle butt to his shoulder.

There is such a thing as marksmanship, and there is another quality known as luck. Though there were three men aboard the stranger firing, and though their bullets came fearfully close, Mr. Evans was the only one aboard the “Sunbeam’ ’ who had been hit by the time that Tom struck over his second man. That, with Donald Evans’ one lucky shot, disposed of the original marksmen among the fugitives. But the places of two of them were quickly taken.

“I think I can get one more notch of speed out of the engine,” muttered Joe. The instant he had done it his head was above the forecastle again.

“If they have valuable merchandise aboard we must have put a few holes through it,” grinned Tom.

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The “Sunbeam” was holding all her promise of speed. The stranger craft was failing a hit at the propeller. So the pursuing craft hauled steadily after the pursued, lessening the distance every moment.

With three men hit—most of the luck on the law’s side—the fugitives must have lost some of their insolent assurance. Though two men still crouched with rifles.at the stranger’s stern, they did not seem ready to use them. Either they were afraid luck was going against them or they were waiting to fire at closer quarters.

Donald Evans, having attended to his wound, did not trouble to put on his coat again. Instead he snatched up a megaphone, bringing it to 'his mouth and shouting:

“Lie to and let us come alongside. I am an officer of the customs service and I mean to board you!”

“If you try it you’ll get boarded up, and for good and all!” came the significant retort from John Disben, as he stepped forward into the glare of the pursuing searchlight.

“You are now threatening to commit an act of piracy. If you carry matters too far you’ll have yourselves to thank for it,” returned Donald Evans. “Whatever your conduct may be, as a United States officer I’m bound to lay

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alongside and board yon. I am preparing to do it. Go after them, Captain Halstead! ’ ’

The “Sunbeam” now made ber last desperate spurts of speed. The crew on that other deck ahead of them stood watching them sullenly. The stranger craft, too, was being worked for more speed. She was a fast boat, though not quite in the condition of the “Sunbeam.’7

Tom passed the ride to Dick Davis. Our hero’s hand was at the wheel now, his eye calculating the fine problem of going at full speed and yet running as easily as possible alongside the other boat.

As the moments passed the “Sunbeam” overhauled her prey, then, inch by inch, ranged up alongside. The hostile rails were barely a dozen feet from each other.

“Ready!” shouted Tom at last. He ran in alongside. The stranger craft sheered off, but Tom followed, hanging on doggedly until Joe, leaping up from the motor room, made fast to the other boat with a boathook. That was enough for Donald Evans. He sprang aboard the hostile craft, holding a revolver in his left hand. Dick Davis followed with the rifle.

“Take the wheel, Ab, and shove off at the right second,” called Tom Halstead tensely. He leaped aboard the other*craft unarmed. Joe,

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dropping tlie boathook, followed. Ab, true to his trust, gave the wheel a turn veering away. The Government’s little hoarding party was aboard the fugitive boat—as captors or captives ?

CHAPTER XXII

FACE TO FACE IN THE DANGER ZONE

“"VTOBODY invited you aboard here!” I ^ roared John Disben, stepping forward, one of the rifles in his hand. But the purple passion in his face, the ugly gleam in his eyes looked more dangerous than the weapon.

“A United States revenue officer doesn’t have to wait for an invitation to hoard a vessel in these waters,” retorted Donald Evans.

His coolness filled the hoys with admiration for this young man of unquestioned courage. Don Evans followed up his statement with another that came crisply and decisively:

“John Disben, I take it you commanded here until we came aboard. It is my duty, therefore, to inform you that this boat is seized in the name of the United States Government. And you and your crew are Government prisoners.” “You say it easily,” sneered Disben.

“Why shouldn’t I?” retorted the revenue

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officer as calmly as ever. “If you resisted it would be the act of a madman. If you fight us, even though you succeed, what becomes of you? Wherever this craft and crew went they would be pursued as pirates by the whole power of the United States. Now since you are all under arrest I direct you all to file into the cabin, after laying down your rifles on the deck. You will consider yourselves prisoners, and I will station a guard at the door. My own prize crew is now in charge here.”

Not one of the three men who held rifles offered to lay them down. Instead the others waited, sullenly,J to see what reply John Dis-ben would make. That swarthy man allowed his lips to part in a sneer.

“See here, Mr. Revenue Officer, if you’re in control here, you won’t mind proving it, will you?”

“Not in the least,” rejoined Evans quietly. “Within a very few seconds I’m going to shoot down any man whom I see still holding a weapon in his hands. Davis, I authorize— direct—you to shoot as soon as you see me start to do it. Remember, these are men defying the United States laws and the lawful acts of a United States officer.”    \

There were murmurs at this—some signs of weakening here and there among the sullen

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crew. But in the midst of the impression created by the revenue officer’s threat the big fellow, Ben, who was not armed, acted on his own account.

Leaping forward, ere anyone could guess his intention or hinder him, Ben wrapped his powerful arms around Tom Halstead.

“Younker,” he roared, “you and I will go down to see Davy Jones!”

As he uttered the words Ben, holding the boy tight in his arms, leaped to the rail, then plunged overboard. Locked together they sank below the waves.

Cool as he had been, Donald Evans gave a gasp of dismay at this sudden blow to his plans.

Yet hardly had the first splash sounded when there came a second. Joe Dawson, thinking in tenths of seconds, had gone overboard to help his chum if help were possible.

When Joe had first boarded the stranger craft he had carried with him a marlin spike that he had believed might be useful. As he went over the side into the water Dawson still gripped that handy implement.

Tom and his assailant came up together, but Ben bore his head under once more. In fact, the big fellow succeeded in sinking with him. When they came up for the second time Joe



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was close to them. Tom fought with the fury of desperation, giving even Ben a hard time in handling him.

Rapidly through the water, with a long side stroke, forged Joe. He got close enough, then swung over, balancing his buoyant weight. At close quarters he raised the marlin spike, striking a savage blow that fell on Ben’s head.. It was the first that Ben knew of the presence of another foe.

That blow all but stopped the big fellow’s activities. With a hoarse bellow, half choked by a wave, he let go of Tom Halstead, making a wild, strong plunge to reach Dawson.

But Joe, with the fish-like courage of a sea-coast boy in the water, sank unconcernedly, swiftly swimming under water and coming up at a new spot. Ben, watching for him, made another spurt through the water.

Joe waited. Just as the big fellow got close Tom Halstead seized one of his legs. Again Ben was forced to turn and fight. That gave Joe a chance he didn’t miss, of darting in close and landing another angry blow on the big fellow’s head. It was a glancing one, but even so, the big fellow roared and began to fear.

Tom had let go of the leg, forced to do so by Ben’s violent kicks. But the two boys were

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now on either side of him, wholly at home in the deep water.

There was another sonrce of danger to Ben. The stranger craft had shot ahead, Evans not yet having secured mastery there. Bnt Ab had witnessed the affair. Anything in the line of excitement being in the red-haired one’s line, Ab promptly ran in at reduced speed. He ran so close, in fact, as to compel Joe to dive to get out of the way. But Dawson came up near enough still to be a factor in the fight.

Once more Ben tried to pounce upon Tom-Halstead. Our hero let himself go below the surface in the darkness. Down after him went Ben, but when he rose to the surface alone, Ab, having stopped speed and reversed, was close enough to lean far out and strike the big fellow over the head with the wooden end of the boat-hook. Reaching over with one foot, Perkins shut off the reverse, as he had done the forward speed'. Then swinging the boathook around he deftly caught the all but unconscious Ben by planting the hook in his collar.

Ab swiftly had the big fellow alongside. Tom and Joe, plunging forward with their fastest strokes, hauled themselves aboard. Then all three gave their attention to hauling the big fellow onto the bridge deck of the ‘ ‘ Sunbeam.” Nearly unconscious, what few senses

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Ben had remaining were cowed by the speed of the fight. The three boys together wefte able to bend the big arms behind the fellow and bind them ere any fresh fight dawned in Ben.

“Now right after the other boat!” came crisply from Halstead. “Mr. Evans and Dick are left in a ticklish place enough.”

The stranger craft, having fallen much away in speed, was not difficult to overtake. Evans, his nerve briefly shaken by the late happenings, had not yet carried out his purpose of compelling surrender. Tom ranged the “Sunbeam” once more alongside the other motor boat, and he and Joe quickly stepped across to the other deck, Ab veering off as before.

‘ ‘ G-ood boys! ’ ’ breathed Evans in a voice low though exultant. “Now, John Disben, I’m going to give you and your fellows until I count ten ”

“You needn’t,” roared the sulky one. “If you make a move to shoot we’ll do the same thing!”

“ until I count ten to lay down your guns

and submit, ’ ’ insisted the revenue officer. “One!”

Two of the smuggler crew turned hastily to get out of the way of bullets.

“Two,” counted Don Evans. “Three, four, five, six ”

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One of the three armed men laid dowrl his rifle, darting hack ont of harm’s way. An angry' noise escaped John Disben, though he still glared ferociously at the revenue man.

“Seven, eight—” reeled off Mr. Evans.

Another man laid down his rifle. Disben screamed with rage.

‘‘Nine, ten!’’ finished Evans.

With a roar that was part groan, Disben laid down-his own rifle.

“You didn’t get us,” he snarled, as he stepped aft. “It’s the power of the United States Government that got us.”

“Step into the cabin, all of you,” ordered •Evans, smoothly. “Close the door after you. Now, Davis, take your stand outside, rifle ready, ,and shoot down any man who tries to get out. ’ ’

Then the revenue man, Tom and Joe went forward. Here, the sole remaining member of the smuggler crew stood at the wheel, handling the engine also.

“Dawson, take the wheel and the controls,” directed Donald Evans, coolly. “You, my man,” to Disben’s fellow, “go ahead of me and into the cabin with your mates. Captain Halstead, I now place you in command of this boat and her prize crew.”

The finish had come quickly enough. As Jar

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as could be seen, nothing now remained but to take the captured boat, the prisoners and the cargo into Bayport. This other craft, which turned out to be the “Elsie,” being provided with a searchlight, Tom swung the ray coastward until he had picked up his present bearings. Then he tooted a signal to Ab to follow, keeping as close as safety permitted.

“ Captain of a prize crew, eh, Tom ?’ * smiled Joe. “How does that feel after having been so lately nothing but captain of our little steam tub, the ‘Daphne’?”

“I. can tell you a lot better when this ‘big night’ is over,” laughed Captain Tom. “It never pays to toot your whistle too loudly until you’re tied up safely at the pier after the cruise. ’ ’'

“Oh, for all purposes, I guess we’re as good as safely tied up for the night,” hazarded Joe.

“You never can tell,” replied his chum.

Neither boat’s skipper now attempted any more of the racing speed, yet both boats went along at a pretty good rate. By and by they were close to the mouth of the river, and Mr. Evans, who had been aft with Dick, now came forward again.

They stood there chatting until Tom, after a glace seaward, suddenly clutched at the arm of the revenue officer.

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“See that, Mr. Evans?” he demanded, huskily.

“That” was a series of searching rays, shot straight up and down against the sky. Yet the ship that sent these signals was so far away as to he invisible.

“You guess what that can be, don’t you, Mr. Evans?” insisted the young skipper. “It looks as though our ‘big night’ had just begun!”

CHAPTER XXIII

THE BIG PRIZE OE ALL

DONALD EVANS watched those signals with interest, but he was not a man to jump too hastily at conclusions.

“Do you imagine, Halstead, that that is another smuggling craft?” he inquired.

Tom tried to choke down his eagerness as he answered:

“What I think, sir, is only a guess, but here it is: Your prisoners were out for more to-night than merely running a cargo off the island. I believe, sir, that Disben and his crew also intended to meet the big ship that brings over their smuggled goods from the other side. The big ship is out there, now, signaling impatiently. ”

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“But if we hadn’t overhauled this craft Dis-ben would have been too far east by^his time to see the signals,” objected Mr. Evans, thoughtfully.

“Yes, sir, he would; because, as soon as he knew we were watching this boat- he was wild to lead us away from the bigger prize. See that signaling, sir? It’s growing almost frantic.”

“It does look that way,” assented the revenue officer..

“Now, watch me signal back, and see what happens, ’ ’ proposed Tom.

Donald Evans not objecting, Halstead shot the “Elsie’s” searchlight ray high into the sky, then dropped it. This he repeated three times. There was a pause. Then a shaft of light from the invisible vessel moved up and down twice. Tom answered it just as it had been given. There was no more signaling from out-sea.

“Didn’t I guess right?” asked Tom, his face aglow.

“By Jove, we ought to go after that other ship,” breathed Mr. Evans, excitedly. “But how can we? - To go out as we are might only invite a prompt rescue of the prisoners we now have. Yet to go into Bayport and get back means to lose a lot of valuable time.”

1 There’s Fort Popham, a United States Gov- -ernment post, ‘over there,” quivered Halstead,

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pointing over the port bow at the shore of the river they were now close to.

“But a United States fort isn’t a United States jail,” replied Donald Evans. “However, on a

pinch, they might—they might ”

“It’s worth trying for, isn’t it?” qnestioned Tom, eagerly. “And, as I run in toward the Fort, I can keep tooting the police call. ’ They may understand on shore, and chase the guard down to the pier to find out what all the whistling means. ’ ’

“Tom,” laughed the revenue man, easily, “it wouldn’t be you if you weren’t thinking quickly. Your plan is just the idea.”

Joe went below, now, .to look over the engine. Tom took his place at the wheel. The entrance to the river was made, and Halstead swung well around to port, steering straight for the Fort. Ab kept at safe distance behind. It looked as though excitement were the one thing needful to keep Perkins from Jonahing himself. He handled the “Sunbeam,” all alone, as carefully as Halstead himself could have done.

For two full minutes before he steered the “Elsie” into the pier at Fort Popham, Halstead kept sounding the police call on the, auto whistle. That unusual noise, close to the quiet old Fort, had the desired effect. Several soldiers could be seen running down to the pier. There was an

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officer among them by the time that Tom brought the “Elsie” gently alongside the pier. Ab, obeying Mr. Evans’ signal, lay to ontside with the ‘ ‘ Snnbeam. ’ ’

“Yon ,are one of the officers at this post?” questioned Donald Evans, leaping lightly ashore and hastening up to one of the men in uniform.

“I am Captain Yarney, the commanding officer here,” responded that gentleman. “I heard you sounding the police call, and supposed that something must be very wrong.”

“The boat has a cabinful of prisoners,” smiled Donald Evans.

“Prisoners?” echoed Captain Yarney. “But, my dear sir, this is a military post, not a police station. ’ ’

“These are United States prisoners, caught in the act of smuggling,” explained Evans. “I am an agent of the United States revenue service. Here are my papers, captain.”

By the light of a lantern that one of the soldiers carried the military officer looked at the papers.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Evans?” he asked.

“It will all be very easy, captain, I think. What I wish to ask you to do is to take charge of the prisoners that I have aboard this boat.

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If you will lock the prisoners up in your guardhouse, I will not ask you to keep them for me later than the morning. Then I will come here with a force of deputies and take them otf your hands.’ -

This was an unusual request, yet one within the power of the commanding officer to grant. Captain Varney thought but a moment, then agreed.

“I will also ask permission to leave this captured boat at the pier for a few hours, at least,” Donald Evans continued. “We suspect that one of the ships engaged in smuggling is waiting out yonder on the ocean. We mean to go alongside of her, in our other boat.”

*1 That will be all right, ’ ’ nodded the army officer. 11 Sergeant, take the guard and go aboard for the prisoners. How many have you, Mr. Evans!”

“Nine, in all, captain, three of them wounded.

“Be very careful, sergeant, that none of the nine gets away from you. You would better use, sergeant, all the soldiers who are here. Even our men who are unarmed will be of some service. ’ ’

Saluting, the sergeant led his men aboard. Dick willingly enough moved away from his post at the cabin door.

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“The boat is also loaded down with smuggled goods,” continued Evans, who had examined this cargo on the way in. “Can you place a one-man guard over the boat for the night?”

“I will,” nodded the captain.

“There are but eight prisoners in the cabin,” reported the sergeant, from the “Elsie’s” deck.

“By Jove, I forgot the big fellow, out on the ‘Sunbeam,’ ” muttered the revenue officer. “And also that other chap, gagged through all these hours, in the ‘Sunbeam’s’ cabin. Captain, there are ten prisoners‘in all.”

“Then, be good enough to signal the other boat to come in with the remaining two,” requested Captain Varney.

Ab was accordingly signaled, and brought in the “Sunbeam.” Captain Varney went to look over the entire lot of prisoners, still sullen, but cowed, now, under guard of alert United States troops. Of the three wounded two were painfully injured, though none dangerously.

“Pardon me,” whispered Joe, resting a hand on the revenue officer’s arm, “but you don’t know what sort of trouble you may have on your hands if you succeed in overhauling the ship outside, do. you?”

“We may have a little excitement,” admitted Mr. Evans, but he appeared wholly cool about it. “I was thinking,” Joe continued, “that you

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would have a heap less trouble if you could borrow some of these soldiers to take out on the 1 Sunbeam’ with us. Even smugglers aren’t likely to put up much of a fight if they find themselves facing United States soldiers.”

“By Jove, that is a good idea,” admitted the revenue man, quickly. “But I’ve imposed on this captain’s good nature a good deal already.”

“Still, Mr. Evans,” hinted Tom, “what are our soldiers for in this country, if they’re not to help in upholding the laws! I don’t want to intrude ideas on you, hut wouldn’t it he a good notion just to ask the captain for a few soldiers? At the worst, he can’t do more than refuse. ’ ’

“He can’t, that’s true,” admitted Mr. Evans. “And it might be a real comfort, out yonder, a little later, to have one’s self hacked by a few good old bayonets.”

The prisoners were being brought ashore now. The big fellow, Ben, as he stepped to the pier, singled out Tom Halstead with his eyes.

“This is your time to laugh, younker,” admitted the big fellow, seemingly without grudge. “Still, I may have another day myself by and by. But don’t go to bed to-night thinking I meant to drown you out yonder. I didn’t. It struck me that if I blew up some such rumpus as

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that I’d get your crowd excited, and give our fellows a chance to take the upper hand. But my mates were too dull to see the point, and ”

In a jiffy, just then, something else happened. Ben, while speaking, had been covertly using his eyes to good advantage, taking in the “lay” of the land. Now, like a flash, he 'bolted past the line of soldiers. Bounding off the pier to the sand beyond, he started to make good'his escape.

“Halt, or we’ll fire!” shouted Captain Varney, sternly.

But Ben kept on running.

“Johnson! Ackerly!” commanded Captain Varney. “Aim low and—fire!”

As the two military rifles each sent a red streak out into the night big Ben stumbled and fell. When the soldiers reached him he was found to be suffering from a painful wound through his right leg. That shooting had an excellent effect in keeping the other prisoners in line.

“Corporal,” ordered the captain, “get the surgeon and a hospital stretcher.”

“I’m sorry we’re making so much trouble for you, captain,” said Donald Evans, apologetically. He seemed to forget his own bandaged wound.

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“No trouble, really,” replied the- officer. “This is such a dull old post, usually, that I fancy my men like something real to do. ’ ’

Joe Dawson nudged the revenue man’s arm significantly.

“Captain, I hope you’ll overlook my greediness, then,” smiled the revenue man, “but have you a few soldiers who’d appreciate an adventure on the sea to-night ?”

“What do you mean?” asked Captain Varney, looking at him sharply.

Mr. Evans stated his request for a few soldiers to go out on the “Sunbeam” and aid in boarding the suspected ship. This was a very unusual kind of service to expect, but Captain Varney, on thinking it over quickly, decided that it would not be improper.

“I’ll let you have a corporal and four men,” he replied, presently. “Corporal Shea, take four men, each of you armed with rifle and bayonet and twenty rounds of ammunition. G-o aboard as soon as ready, and take your further orders from Mr. Evans.”

Not more than ten minutes had been spent ashore. Tom was at the wheel, Joe at the motor, and Dick and Ab at the bow and the stern-lines as soon as the little squad of soldiers had stepped aboard the ‘ ‘ Sunbeam. ’ ’

“This surely is the ‘big night,’ ” murmured

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Tom, joyously, as lie headed the craft down to the ocean.

“If the captain of that ship hasn’t tired and sailed on,” hinted Mr. Evans.

“We’ll mighty soon know,” predicted Tom. “Dick, will you take the wheel?”

The little group of soldiers sat on the deckhouse, 'further aft. They looked up in interested curiosity as Captain Tom reached out to the searchlight apparatus.

Four flashes, first up and then down, Tom made, aiming them in the direction from which the out-sea signals had first come.

Then followed moments of suspense.

“Hurrah!” cried Halstead, at last, for the signal was answered from the distance. Now, Halstead signaled with two flashes. The response came with the same number.

Yet, by sending the flash horizontally over the water our hero could not yet pick up the faraway ship. He signaled, however, every two or three minutes, as the 1 Sunbeam ’ ’ raced over the waves. Every time the signals were answered. At last, when some seven or eight miles out, Tom picked up the ship, still hull-down. She was lying to, or else moving under the slowest headway. Mr. Evans now directed the soldiers to go into the cabin and refrain from showing themselves until they were wanted.

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Going at more than twenty-mile speed, Cap- * tain Tom soon had the vessel within hailing distance. He and Mr. Evans were in long oilskins and sou’westers that served as a very good disguise in case those on shipboard were looking for individuals whom they knew. The steamer, a vessel of some three thousand tons, was under bare headway as Tom rounded her stern and prepared to come up on the port side.

“Now, there’s one thing we can’t do, Mr. Evans,” warned Tom. “We can’t attempt to go alongside that craft if she suddenly puts on speed. We’d smash this boat to kindling. Even when we went alongside the ‘Elsie’ at close quarters we took a big chance on a smash. ’ ’ “Motor boat ahoy!” came the sudden hail from the rail of the steamship.

“ ‘Donald Griggs’ ahoy!” answered Tom, having read that name on the stem of the vessel. “What do you want of us?”

“We’ve some passengers for you,” replied Tom, pleasantly, in a tone meant to be mysterious.

“Who are they?” came the quick demand. “Ever hear of a man named Ben?” asked Tom. “We want to come alongside, for we’ve got to hurry this night’s work.”

The side ladder was down, and Tom, not much more than drifting along, was making for it.

OF THE KENNEBEC    247

The instant that he touched, Donald Evans leaped onto the gangway. The corporal and four soldiers rushed from the cabin, also getting on the ladder and following the revenue man, who was mounting the steps fast.

“Hold on there!” roared a voice aboard. “We don’t want ye. Get off as quick as ye can! ’ ’ .

“Captain, if that’s your title,” retorted Donald Evans, stepping onto the vessel’s deck, while the soldiers crowded behind him, “I’m an agent of the customs service, and these are United States troops. We take charge of this vessel until further notice. If you ring for speed ahead, or attempt any resistance, you’ll do it at your peril. Here is my authority for what I am doing. ’ ’

Mr. Evans held out his official papers, but the captain, bounding back, looked uncertainly at his crew, many of whom were crowding close with black looks. It was at this instant that Tom and Ab came up the ladder to see what' was happening.

For a brief instant it looked as though the captain might try to resist, but many of the crew looked doubtful as they saw that businesslike file of soldiers, ready for work of the sternest kind.

“I see, captain,” announced the revenue man, “that you’ve a good many cases of goods piled

248 THE MOTOB BOAT CLUB

up forward. Bring me your ship’s papers. If these goods are not satisfactorily listed in the manifest I shall be compelled to hold this vessel and her officers and crew for smuggling.”

“The game is up, I guess,” declared the steamship’s captain, his black scowl giving place to a sickly grin. “I admit I can’t offer a good explanation for some things you’ll find aboard this craft.”

“Then, captain,” ordered the revenue man, “you’ll go ahead at slow speed, make for the mouth of the Kennebec and anchor off Fort Popham. Captain Halstead, you’ll remain aboard and go to the bridge with him, to make sure that no wrecking or other tricks are attempted. ’ ’

While the big craft was slowly making for the river, and the late moon shone through the haze of the night, Donald Evans inspected the piled-up cargo forward. Pie discovered enough in the next hour to show him that this big craft carried a fortune in laces that were to have been smuggled into the country.

The commander of the “Grriggs” soon became communicative enough to state that he was Captain Eben Lawrence, and that the big fellow, Ben, was his brother, and shore manager for John Disben, head of the largest band of smugglers on the Atlantic Coast.

OF THE KENNEBEC 249

CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION

OFF Fort Popham the “Donald Griggs” was anchored and her officers taken ashore to the military post as prisoners. The “Sunbeam,” as the sun rose that morning, was returning to the Fort with a score of Bay-port men whom the revenue officer had roused from their beds and sworn in as special officers. These were now to relieve the military in guarding the prisoners, all of whom were transferred to the “ Griggs ’ ’ until a revenue cutter arrived from Portland. At Bayport Mr. Evans’ wound had been dressed by a physician.

The morning was well started when the ‘ ‘ Sunbeam,” more sprightly than those aboard of her, returned to the pier at Bayport. Dick was at the wheel, the others, except Joe, standing near him on the bridge deck. All were so weary that it seemed as though they could keep their eyes open no longer.

Yet all the club boys soon found something to interest them and to get their eyes fully open again. Tied to the pier, at the side, lay the “Daphne,” the steam launch that Tom and Joe had purchased from Mr. Hopkins, proprietor of

250 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

the Bayport House. A little while after our two young friends obtained their position with Mr. Prescott they had traded the 1 ‘Daphne” hack to Mr. Hopkins at a little profit.

How Mr. Hopkins stood looking down into the “Daphne’s” interior. Beside him stood a local constable, one of whose hands rested on Matt Bragg’s arm. That young bully was crying as though he had received a merited thrashing from a schoolmaster.

As the “Sunbeam” ran, alongside the pier Tom and Joe, scenting something, left Dick and Ab to make all snug and tight, and stepped over to the little group by the steam launch.

“Oh, hullo, boys,” was Mr. Hopkins’ greeting. “Matt Bragg didn’t know you had traded the ‘Daphne’ back to me, and he has gotten into a bit of trouble through his ignorance.”

“Let me go, Mr. Hopkins—do!” sobbed the bully piteously. “I’ll go to work for you. I’ll work the bill of damages off.”

“Do you think I’d have a young rascal like you working for me?” demanded Mr. Hopkins ironically. “No, no, Matt; you’ve been a pretty mean sort all along, and now I reckon it will do you good to settle with the law for your misdeeds.”

Tom and Joe, after a look at the “Daphne’s” engine, hardly needed to be told anything.

OF THE KENNEBEC    251

“A little after daylight two of my men caught Matt Bragg here smashing up things/ ’ said Mr. Hopkins. “He bolted and got away, but my men came and told me and I sent the constable after young Bragg. Now I guess he’ll have plenty of chance to feel good and sorry for the mean trick he thought he was playing on you two.”

“Let me go,” whined Matt brokenly. “I’ll never do such a thing again. I’ll he decent after this.”

Mr. Hopkins shook his head grimly.

“You coax him to let me off, Tom, and I’ll he your friend for life, ’ ’ promised Matt, appealing to our hero.

“The ‘Daphne’ isn’t my boat, and so I haven’t anything to do with the matter,” replied Halstead.

For a few days Matt, remanded by the local justice, remained at the police station. Then it turned out that an uncle who had died had left Matt, one of his heirs, the sum of one hundred dollars, with the provision that it he turned over to him as soon as the estate was straightened. Mr. Hopkins accepted sixty dollars, which was a fair price for the damage done; the lawyer got the other forty dollars. Matt, who would have relished spending that money on a trip to Boston, discovered that he

252 THE MOTOR BOAT CLIJB

had, by his spitework, injured no one hut himself. v    a

Within the next fortnight Donald Evans, assisted by other agents in the revenue service, unearthed all that remained unknown about the crowd who had made such criminal use of Smugglers’ Island.

For two years the operations of Disben and his accomplices had been going on. Two other steam vessels in the foreign trade, besides the “Donald Griggs,” had been implicated in the smuggling operations. Officers and crews of these vessels had been highly paid for their work. But the other two ships were now seized also, and their officers and crews punished by terms in prison.

In the early part of the nineteenth century, and again during the Civil War, the island had been the headquarters, secretly, of desperate bands of smugglers. People in those other times, who had sometimes been tempted to - investigate the island, had vanished. So the island had a bad name in local history, and of this fact Disben and his accomplices had taken advantage. Hear the highest point on the island lay a cave whose entrance was most ingeniously concealed.

It was the practice of the smugglers to have the smuggling steam vessels reach the coast

OF THE KENNEBEC    253

from abroad on moonless nigbts. On sncb nights the white sloop had been nsed in transferring smuggled cargoes to the island, where they were hidden in the cave. On other dark nights, at their convenience, Disben and his accomplices had removed the smuggled goods from the island to the cavern on shore, off the cove near Fisher’s Island.

Disben’s drug herb farming had been all a “blind.” This was carried on in order that Disben might have an excuse for keeping a lot of men at his place. The drug herb farming also furnished a seemingly good reason for shipping so many packing cases from Disben’s place to the railroads.

In order to keep up the ghostly reputation of Smugglers’ Island, and thus have the place shunned by residents and summer guests, the smuggling band had equipped their island cave with many ghostly devices, instruments for making weird, blood-curdling sounds and the like.

But now the whole band was broken up and its members sent to prison. Operations were stopped that had cost the United States Government several fortunes in customs duties dodged by the smugglers.

Donald Evans was generosity itself. He described to his superiors the splendid parts

254 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB

played in the whole affair by the first four members of the Motor Boat Club. Tom, Joe, Dick and Ab all have letters from the Secretary of the Treasury in which that high official speaks most flatteringly of their plucky services to their country.

It was not until considerably later that it transpired that Ben Lawrence, after his meeting with our hero, had fled on the train to St. Johns. There, learning by wire from Dishen that there was no trouble in the air, the big fellow left a letter of instructions for his skipper brother to the effect that on his next trip the “Griggs” would be met further out to sea by the band in a motor boat. As the 1 Griggs 9 touched regularly at St. Johns before proceeding to the United States the instructions were received and acted upon, as the reader knows. The “Elsie” was a boat chartered from an innocent owner.

Three days after the “big night,” when Mr. Prescott had returned to his summer stopping place, Tom Halstead approached his employer with the news:

“I have two more boys, sir, and first-rate material they are, who want to join our Motor Boat Club.”

“Bring them to see me, then,” replied Mr. Prescott. “We want several new members.”

OF THE KENNEBEC 255

And before tbe week was out the club had been increased to a total of nine members, not counting Mr. Prescott, who served as president. Tom Halstead was made fleet captain of the club and Joe first fleet engineer.

Before the season was far advanced several motor boats had arrived in the Kennebec, most of the craft hailing from Boston. Some of them would have been short of crews had it not been for Mr. Prescott’s foresight in forming the Motor Boat Club, whose young members, all coast-bred boys, rapidly qualified for duties aboard these fast pleasure boats.

“We’re going to have a grand summer of fun, boys,’’ declared the broker one night in late June, to Halstead and Dawson.

Did they? By all means.

However, many of their most intensely interesting doings must now be postponed in the narration, but will appear in another volume, entitled:

“The Motor Boat Club at Nantucket; Or, The Mystery of the Dunstan Heir.”

[the end]

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