The Motor Boat Club at Nantucket: or, The Mystery of the Dunstan Heir Harrie Hancock Hancock H. Irving Harrie Irving The Motor Boat Club at Nantucket; or, The Mystery of the Dunstan Heir CHAPTER I – THE PAIR IN THE SEAT AHEAD “Is the ‘Meteor’ a fast boat?” “Very fast, indeed.” “But can she beat anything along thiscoast? That’s what I want to know.” “Judge for yourself. On her trial trip shemade within a small fraction of twenty-eightmiles an hour.” “Whew! That’s tremendous speed, even fora fast and costly boat such as the rich build to-day.But how long has she been in the water?” “Since last March.” “She may have fouled a good deal since then,or her machinery may be a good deal below themark by this time.” “Humph! For that matter, something couldbe made to happen to the boat, I suppose.” Of the two men carrying on this conversationin a day-coach seat on a railway train, one wasfive-foot-seven, florid and somewhat stout, witha bull neck and keen, twinkling eyes. His wholeappearance hinted that he had spent most of hisforty years of life on the open sea. The otherman, who was short, slim and swarthy, with narrow, piercing black eyes, might have been a fewyears older. His every motion betokened greatactivity. One might have guessed him to be aSpaniard. His general attire, though it wassomewhat careless, would place him in the business-manclass. At the first mention of the name “Meteor”two American boys, seated immediately behindthe men, started slightly and immediately wereall attention. Each boy was about sixteen yearsof age. Tom Halstead was fair, brown-hairedand blue-eyed with a naturally merry look. JoeDawson was darker, somewhat more reserved inmanner and was Tom’s fast chum and greatadmirer. Yes; readers of the preceding volume in thisseries will recognize Tom and Joe at once asthe young Americans who became the originalmembers of the Motor Boat Club of the Kennebec.It was they who put Broker Prescott’sfast motor boat, the “Sunbeam,” once more incommission; they who went through some mostlively adventures along the coast near the mouthof the Kennebec and who rendered tremendouslyimportant services to Revenue Officer Evans, acousin of the broker, in penetrating the secretof Smugglers’ Island. Now these same two members of the MotorBoat Club were traveling on business that theybelieved to be wholly commonplace. They wereheaded for the island of Nantucket, south ofCape Cod. The experiences ahead of them, theyimagined, were to be of the most ordinary kind.They had no glimpse, as yet, of the new excitementsthat Fate had in store for them. Theyhad no hint of the startling adventures intowhich they were soon to be plunged. But that mention of the name “Meteor” hadaroused their instant attention. That was thename of the motor boat that they were to joinand take charge of at Wood’s Hole. The craftwas the property of Mr. Horace Dunstan, oneof the wealthy residents of the island of Nantucket. An ordinary boy might not have heard thelow-toned conversation of the pair in the seatahead. But Tom and Joe, attuned to the life ofthe sea and with ears trained to note the slightestirregularity of the sound of machinery, possessedacute hearing indeed. At the first words of that conversation betweenthe unknown pair Tom gave Joe a slightnudge in the side. Dawson’s eyes promptlyclosed, his lips parting, his head sinking slightlyforward. He appeared to be sound asleep. Halsteadseemed to be wholly interested in the newspaperat which he was glancing. Not even whenthe possibility of foul play to the “Meteor”was mentioned did either youngster betray anyfurther sign. Indeed, the men in the seat aheadwere evidently confident that the boys could nothear their low-pitched talk. None of the otherseats near by was occupied. The accommodation train from Boston, rollingslowly along late in this July afternoon, had just left Falmouth for its run of a fewmiles to Wood’s Hole, the last stop, as thiswould be the end of the mainland route. Acrossthe meadows the hot breath of July camethrough the open car windows. The brightnessof the sunshine inclined one to close hiseyes, so that Joe Dawson’s slumber seemed themost natural thing in the world. Indeed, TomHalstead’s eyes were narrowing; he seemed thenext candidate for a doze. Yet, depend upon it, neither boy had been more awake in his life.The slightest hint of possible mischief to theboat that was soon to be intrusted to their carewas enough to set their nerves a-tingle. “That was a queer rumpus on Boston Commonthe other day,” began the florid-faced man.The subject had been changed. No furthermention was made of the “Meteor.” Tom Halsteadfelt tremendously disappointed. He hadhoped to hear more that would be of interest tohimself. But the pair in the seat ahead did notagain refer to the “Meteor.” So Tom, afterstealthily making a few pin pricks in his newspaper, settled far down in his seat, holding thepaper before his face as though reading. Inreality he was studying what he could see ofthe faces of the men who had so suddenlyaroused his interest. With the paper closeenough to his face the pin holes were almost asgood as windows. Over those last few miles droned the train.Tom felt cheated in not hearing more, but toall appearances the strangers had forgotten theexistence of the “Meteor.” When the train wasyet a mile out from Wood’s Hole the twomen arose, going to the forward end of the car.The train slackened in speed, the two mendropping off on the further side of the carfrom where the boys sat. By the time thatHalstead deemed it prudent to slip across toa window opposite, the two men were out ofsight. “Now what on earth can be the reason forthose two fellows desiring any injury to a gentleman’sprivate yacht?” muttered Tom, rejoininghis chum. “At all events, it’s handy to be well warnedin advance,” returned Joe with a quiet grin. “Yes, if we run across that pair within twentycable lengths of the boat we’ll know ’em and beon our watch,” answered Halstead with a meaningflash in his eyes. They had little more time for puzzling theirheads, for the train was now rolling in at thelittle station at Wood’s Hole. There were lessthan a dozen people to disembark. Out of sucha small crowd anyone looking for two youngmotor boat experts would have little difficulty inselecting the two boys with weather-tinted faces, who wore suits of strong, serviceable navy blue, soft brown canvas shoes and straw hats. So atall, slender man of forty-five, dressed in outinggray and wearing an expensive fine-straw hat, came at once toward them. “Captain Tom Halstead?” he inquired, lookingfrom one boy to the other. “That’s my name, sir,” Tom answered. “Youare Mr. Horace Dunstan?” “Yes. And heartily glad that you did notdisappoint me.” “There was no good reason why we should, sir,” Halstead rejoined, then presented hischum. Mr. Dunstan shook hands with both verycordially, although he was not able to concealentirely his astonishment at their youthfulness. “I – er – really expected to find you a littleolder,” Mr. Dunstan admitted with an easylaugh. “However, it’s all right. My friend,Prescott, told me he had found, among the seacoastboys of Maine, some of the best materialfor motor boat handlers in the world. I askedhim to send me the best pair he knew, so, ofcourse, it’s all right, for Prescott never goesback on a friend.” “We’ve handled Mr. Prescott’s boat in somerather tight places,” said Tom quietly. “You have your suit cases, I see. There’s noneed to carry them down to the waterfront. Come over here and hand them to thedriver.” Mr. Dunstan led the way to the solitary hackat the station, though neither sturdy boy wouldhave thought anything of walking and carryinghis baggage. “Now we’ll drive down at once and you’ll seethe ‘Meteor’” proposed their host. “Perhapsyou will be able to tell, very soon, what ails thecraft. I have had one or two local machinistslook her over and the owner of one small motorboat who thought he knew all about such craft.Yet the engine doesn’t work well enough for meto be satisfied to try to use the boat.” In a few minutes the three alighted near apier that jutted some hundred feet out over thewater. At the further end lay as jaunty a fifty-footcraft as either boy had ever laid eyes on. “So that’s the ‘Meteor’? Oh, she’s a dandy!”cried Tom in a burst of enthusiasm. “Say, look at the beauty of her lines! Whatspeed she ought to be good for, with a strong, well-behaving engine!” came from quiet Joe. Horace Dunstan smiled with pardonable prideas he led the way down the pier. As far as firstimpressions went the boat was worthy of extendedpraise. Though only five feet longerthan the “Sunbeam,” she had the look of beinga much larger craft. There was more forecastle.The space of the bridge deck seemedbetter arranged. There was an awning overthe bridge deck and another over the cockpitaft. The cabin looked roomier. From davitsat the starboard side swung a natty-lookingsmall boat. “Gr-r-r-r!” came a warning sound from theclosed forecastle as the trio stepped aboard. “In the absence of crew I’ve kept my bull pupdown in the engine room,” explained Mr. Dunstan. “A mighty good idea,” muttered Tom with aswift recollection of the fragments of conversationhe and Joe had overheard on the train. “Stand back a moment, until I let him outand present you to him,” requested the owner.“Don’t be afraid of him. Bouncer is a veryintelligent dog. Hell understand an introductionas quickly as a human being would.” One of the forecastle windows was open, togive air to the dog, though it was not largeenough to let him out. “It’s all right, Bouncer,” called Mr. Dunstanreassuringly, as he fitted a key at the forecastledoor. “Now come out like a four-footed gentlemanand meet some friends of ours.” Bouncer came nimbly out, a low-built, thicksetbulldog of the finest fighting type. He had asquare-set pair of jaws that looked capable oftaking a tremendous grip. His look, however, under the prompt petting of his owner, waskindly and curious. “These young gentlemen are all right,Bouncer,” spoke Mr. Dunstan. “Go over andget acquainted with them. Let them pet you.” Bouncer contented himself with a brief sniffingat each boy in turn. Then he submitted tocaresses, wagging his short stump of a tail. “He understands. You’ll never need to beafraid of this dog, unless you do some such extremething as to attack me or a member ofmy family,” Mr. Dunstan assured them. “Nowcome down into the engine room.” “Say, this is something like!” uttered Joeenthusiastically, as he stepped below and stoodlooking about him. Here there was an abundanceof room, for much of the engine was housed backunder the bridge deck. The engineer had plentyof space in which to move about. Forward ofthe engine room, shut off by a curtain, was thegalley. Here were stove, sink, ice box, dishrackand room for a goodly supply of foods. Through a passageway Mr. Dunstan led themunder the bridge deck. Curtained off from thepassage was a wide berth. “We generally call this the captain’s berth,”explained the owner. “I guess my berth will be on one of the engineroom lockers with Joe,” smiled Halstead. The cabin proved to be spacious and handsome.The four locker seats could be fitted intoberths when cruising. The cockpit aft was largeand contained, besides side seats, half a dozencomfortable armchairs. “Now suppose we go back to the engine,” desiredMr. Dunstan, turning about. “I’m anxious, indeed, to know whether you can locatethe trouble that has tied this craft up here.” Returning to the engine room, the boys openedtheir suit cases, taking out overalls and jumpers.Clad in these they were soon armed withwrenches and other tools, exploring the mysteriesof that engine. “This machine hasn’t had very good care,”spoke Joe after a while. “She’s fouled withdirt and thick oil at a good many points.” “Has the motor been overheated?” asked theowner. “I don’t believe so, sir; at least, not to anyserious extent,” Joe stated as his opinion. “Any repairs to parts going to be necessary?” “A few, but simple ones, I guess. We oughtto be able to make ’em from the materials athand.” “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 lateas we can,” Tom explained. “Joe can’t reallytell, until we get started, just how much willhave to be done. But the motor is not hurt pastordinary repair.” “I was going to ask you over to the hotel fordinner to-night,” hinted the owner. “There seems to be plenty of everything toeat in the galley,” Tom answered seriously.“So, if you don’t mind, sir, we’ll stay rightby our work and help ourselves to food aswe can.” “Make yourselves at home, then. Do youmean to sleep aboard to-night?” inquired Mr.Dunstan, as he started up the steps to the bridgedeck. “I think we’d better, for more reasons thanone, perhaps,” Halstead made answer as he, too, stepped to the bridge deck. “Mr. Dunstan,”he went on in a lower voice, “do youknow of anyone who could have a good reasonfor wanting to injure your boat?” “Why, no,” replied the owner, though neverthelesshe gave a slight start. “Why?” Tom described the men and the conversationaboard the train. Mr. Dunstan listened withinterest, though he shook his head when the twomen were described. “There might be a shadow of reason for theirtalk in one direction,” he admitted, slowly andreluctantly. “But, pshaw, no; I’m dreaming.No, there can’t be any reason for wanting toruin my boat. Very likely you didn’t hear quiteright.” “At any rate,” Halstead went on, “Joe andI will be aboard to-night, and probably everynight as long as we’re in your employ.” “You seem to take this thing seriously, Halstead.” “I don’t believe, sir, in throwing away whatseems like a very valuable hint. It won’t doany harm for us to be watchful, anyway. Bythe way, sir, do you mind letting the dog stayaboard, too?” “Certainly you may have him,” nodded theowner. “He won’t interfere with you and he’llsleep with one eye and both ears open. Well, make yourselves at home here, boys. Do whateveryou please in the galley and feed and waterBouncer. I’ll be at the hotel this evening incase you should want me for anything.” After impressing upon Bouncer that he wasstill to remain aboard, Mr. Dunstan strolledleisurely down the pier. Both boys went hardat work. “What do you 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 startledanyone by doing anything very original, buthe’s a gentleman, and we’re going to find himconsiderate and just. That’s all we can ask inany man.” After that there wasn’t much talk, except thefew words now and then that related to takingthe motor to pieces, and repairing and replacingits parts. At the close of day they helpedthemselves to a bountiful meal and made a fastfriend of Bouncer by catering to his healthy appetite.Then, by the light of lanterns, theywent to work again. It was after eleven o’clockwhen they found themselves too drowsy to dofurther justice to their work. “Let’s go up on deck and get some air. Afterthat we’ll turn in,” proposed Halstead. “I wonder if we’re going to have visitors orany trouble?” mused Joe. “Somehow I can’tempty my head of that talk in the car this afternoon.” “If we do have any trouble,” laughed Tomnodding down at the dog dozing on the deck attheir feet, “I’ve a private notion that we’regoing to be able to pass some back – to someone.” Twenty minutes later the motor boat chumshad made up berths on the engine-room lockersand had undressed and gone to bed. Both weresoon sound asleep. They relied on Bouncer, wholay 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 enthusiastslie wrapped in the first soundslumber of the summer night, lulledinto unconsciousness by the soft lapping of thesalt water against the sides of the “Meteor,”let us take a brief glimpse at the events whichhad brought them here. Readers of the preceding volume in this seriesare aware of how the Motor Boat Club came tobe organized. It now numbered fourteen members, any one of whom was fully qualified tohandle a motor boat expertly under any ordinarycircumstances. Every member was a boy born and broughtup along the seacoast. Such boys, both by inheritanceand experience, are usually well qualifiedfor salt-water work. They are aboard ofboats almost from the first days of life that theycan recollect. Seamanship and the work requiredabout marine machinery are in the airthat surrounds their daily lives. It is fromamong such boys that our merchant marine andour Navy find their best recruit material. Itwas among such boys that broker George Prescotthad conceived the idea of finding materialfor making young experts to serve the ownersof motor cruisers and racers along the NewEngland coast. Tom and Joe were undoubtedly the pick ofthe club for skill and experience. More thanthat, they were such fast friends that theycould work together without the least danger offriction. Though Halstead was looked upon asthe captain, he never attempted to lord it overhis chum; they worked together as equals ineverything. Mr. Dunstan had long known Mr. Prescott inBoston, where both had offices. So, whentrouble happened in the “Meteor’s” engineroom, Mr. Dunstan had sent the broker a longtelegram asking that gentleman to send by thenext train the two most capable experts of theClub. He had added that he wanted the boysprincipally for running the boat on fast time betweenNantucket and Wood’s Hole, for theowner had a handsome residence on the island, but came over to the mainland nearly every dayin order to run in by train to his offices in Boston.The “Meteor,” therefore, was generallyrequired to justify her name in the way ofspeed, for Mr. Dunstan’s landing place at Nantucketwas some thirty-five miles from Wood’sHole. Further, Mr. Dunstan’s telegram had intimatedthat he was likely to want the young menfor the balance of the season, though his messagehad not committed him absolutely on thatpoint. The pay he had offered was more thansatisfactory. Wood’s Hole is a quaint, sleepy little seaportvillage. The main life, in summer, comes fromthe passing through of steamboat passengersfor Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket. Thenight air is so quiet and the sea scent so strongthat even the city visitors at the little hotel findit difficult to stay up as late as eleven o’clock. On this night, or rather morning, at oneo’clock, there were but two honest people in thewhole place awake. Over at the Marine BiologicalLaboratory, Curator Gray and an assistantwere still up, bending drowsily overa microscope in one of the laboratory rooms.But that building was too far from the “Meteor’s”pier for the scientists to have anyhint of what might be happening near themotor boat. It was the night before the new moon. Thestars twinkled, but it was rather dark when thefigures of two men appeared at the land end ofthe pier. On their feet these men wore rubber-soledcanvas shoes. Not a sound did they makeas they started to glide out on the pier. But Bouncer woke up. “Gr-r-r-r!” the bull pup observed, thrustinghis head up, his hair bristling. All this requiredbut a few seconds. In another instant Bouncerwas at the rail, his nostrils swelling as he tooka keen look down the length of the pier. Thenan angrier growl left his throat. It ended ina bound and Bouncer landed on the pier. Hisshort legs moving rapidly under him Bouncerrushed to meet the soft-shoed gentlemen. That last, angrier note from the bull puproused Tom Halstead as a bugle call might havedone. He leaped to his feet, snatching at histrousers. Joe stirred, half alertly. When heheard his chum’s feet strike the engine-roomfloor Dawson, too, sprang up. “Mischief, just as we thought!” breathedTom. Down at the land end of the pier there was asudden mingling of startled human voices. “Por la gracia 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 throatof a big-calibered pistol. It was followed, justas Tom bounded to the deck, pursued by Joe, bythe rapid pounding of a horse’s hoofs and therattle of wheels. “There they go!” cried Tom, leaping to thepier in his bare feet and racing shoreward overthe boards. But it was too late for the boys toovertake the prowlers, who were now behind afast horse. “Did they shoot that fine dog?” growled Joe, his voice rumbling with indignation. Bounceranswered the question for himself by running tomeet them, his tail a-wag, guttural grunts ofsatisfaction coming from his throat, while asignal flag of information fluttered from hismouth. “He took hold of one of ’em,” chuckled Tom.“Good old fellow, you’ve brought us a sampleof their cloth. Good boy! May I have it?” Tom bent down to stroke the dog, who submittedvery willingly. When Halstead tookhold of the large, irregular fragment of cloththe bull pup grunted once or twice, then let go. Back all three went to the boat. Tom lighteda lantern, then held the cloth forward. “Brown, striped trouser goods,” he chuckled.“Joe, whom have we seen with trousers of thispattern?” “That Spanish-looking chap in the seat aheadon the train,” muttered Dawson grimly. “Now if Mr. Dunstan doubts that some onewants to put his boat out of commission we’llhave something definite to call to his attention,”uttered Tom excitedly. “Bouncer, you stockylittle darling!” Joe looked the dog over carefully to makesure 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 ortwo for avenging you. But those rascals didn’teven hurt your grit. You’re ready for ’emagain – if they come!” For some time the boys were too excited tolie down again. When at last they did, theykept their trousers on, ready for any furthersurprise. Bouncer took up his old post on thedeck above, seemingly free from any trace ofexcitement. It was nearly half-past six in the morningwhen Joe next opened his eyes. In a hurry heroused his chum. Donning bathing trunks andshirts both dropped over the side for a refreshingswim. Then after drying and dressing, Halsteadwent forward into the galley, while Joesnatched a few minutes at the work left overfrom the night. Breakfast was a hurried affair, for there wasstill much to do about the motor. It was afternine o’clock when Tom stood back, looking oninquiringly while Joe put on the finishingtouches. “Now I’ll turn on the gasoline and see ifwe can get any news,” proposed Joe. Afew moments later he started the ignitionapparatus and gave the drive wheel a fewturns. Chug! chug! the engine began slowly. Joe, oil can in hand, looked on with the attention ofa scientist making an experiment. Bit by bit heincreased the speed of the engine, smoothing thework with oil. “Give us a little time and the old motor’llmote,” observed Dawson quietly. “Yes,” nodded Tom equally observant. Had they been more of amateurs at the workthey would have felt elated, for the engine respondedto all increased speeds that were tried.But these two had worked enough about motorsto know that such an engine may come to acreaking stop when everything appears to berunning at the best. Chug! chug! It was a cheery sound as theminutes went by and the motor did better andbetter. “I’m almost hopeful that everything is inshape,” declared Dawson at last. “Good morning, boys!” came a pleasant hailfrom the pier. “I see everything is in fine trim.” “It looks that way, Mr. Dunstan,” answeredTom, stepping up above and, by way of salute, bringing his hand to the visor of the Club’s uniformcap that he had donned this morning.“But motors are sometimes cranky. We don’tdare begin to brag just yet.” “This morning’s mail brought me a letterfrom Mr. Prescott,” went on the owner, holdingup an envelope. “He has written me sevenpages about you. It seems that you are greatpets of my friend’s. He tells me that I canplace every confidence in you.” “Why, that’s mighty nice of Mr. Prescott,”replied Tom quietly. He was greatly pleased, nevertheless, for he could now see that Mr. Dunstan’sopinion of them had gone up severalnotches. “Well, well,” continued the owner, as heglanced smilingly down into the engine room;“are you going to cast off now and take me overto Nantucket? It’s four days since I’ve seen myhome and that lucky little rascal, Ted.” Tom didn’t know or inquire who Ted was orwhy that “rascal” was so very fortunate. Insteadhe replied: “We were thinking of a little trial trip first, sir, just to see how the craft will behave underway.” “Good enough,” nodded the owner. “ButI’m aboard, so why can’t I go with you?” “Of course you can, sir.” Tom ran ashore to cast off while Joe did somelast fussing over the motor. Having cast thestern-line aboard and coiled it, Tom now cameforward, throwing off the bowline, boardingwith it. “Start her up at very slow speed ahead, Joe,”called down the young captain, taking his placeat the wheel and throwing it over a little. With the first throbs of the propeller the“Meteor” began to glide away from the pier.Mr. Dunstan had taken his post at Halstead’sright. The water being deep enough, the youngcaptain moved out confidently. “Just a little more speed, Joe,” Tom called, when the pier end was some two hundred yardsastern. A little faster and still a little faster the propellershaft turned, until it settled down to goodwork. The “Meteor” was moving at abouttwelve miles an hour. “Fine!” cried Mr. Dunstan joyously.“We’re all right now.” “We’re not yet quite out of the – well, I won’tsay woods, but sea woods,” smiled Tom quietly. “I’m forgetting my duty,” cried Mr.Dunstan in sudden self-reproach. “I mustact a bit as pilot until you know these watersbetter.” “Why, I studied the chart, sir, nearly all theway from Portland,” replied Tom. “I thinkI am picking up the marks of the course allright.” “You can’t see Nantucket from here, but canyou point straight to it?” inquired Mr. Dunstan. “I’m heading straight along the usual coursenow,” Tom replied. “Right! You are. I guess you know yourway from the chart, though you’ve never seenthese waters before. Keep on. I won’t interfereunless I see you going wrong.” “Shall I head straight on for the island?”asked Halstead. “Or would you rather keepclose to the mainland until we see how theengine behaves?” “Keep right on, captain, unless your judgmentforbids.” Tom, therefore, after a brief talk with hischum through the open hatchway, held to hiscourse, to the south of which lay the big islandof Martha’s Vineyard, now well populated bysummer pleasure seekers. Notch by notch Joe let out the speed, thoughhe was too careful to be in a hurry about that.He wanted to study his machine until he knewit as he did the alphabet. Every fresh spurtpleased the owner greatly. “Your Club has some great fellows in it ifyou two are specimens,” said Mr. Dunstan delightedly.“Prescott knew what he was writingwhen he told me to stand by anything youwanted to do.” By the time when they had the Vineyard fairlysouth of them and the craft was going at morethan a twenty-mile gait, Tom judged that heshould inform the owner of the happening of thenight before. He therefore called Joe up fromthe motor to take the wheel. Then Halstead toldMr. Dunstan what had taken place, exhibitingthe fragment of cloth secured by Bouncer andconnecting this, in theory, with the swarthy manthey had seen aboard the train. Bouncer, looking up in his master’s face andwhining, seemed anxious to confirm Tom Halstead’snarration. “Why, there’s something about all this thatwill make it well for us all to keep our eyesopen,” said Mr. Dunstan. Tom, watching the owner’s face, felt that thatgentleman had first looked somewhat alarmed, then much more annoyed. “There’s something that doesn’t please himand I shouldn’t think it would,” the young captainreflected. “Yet, whatever it is he doesn’tintend to tell me, just yet, at all events. I hopeit’s nothing in the way of big mischief thatthreatens.” “Of course I’d suggest, sir,” Tom observedfinally, “that Dawson and myself sleep aboardnights.” “You may as well,” nodded the owner, andagain Tom thought he saw a shadow of worrimentin 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 atthe house nights,” replied Mr. Dunstan, immediately after looking as though he were tryingto dismiss some matter from his mind. Joe, too, had been keen enough to scent thefact that, though Mr. Dunstan tried to appearwholly at his ease, yet something was giving thatgentleman a good deal of cause for thought.Mr. Dunstan even went aft, presently, seatinghimself in one of the armchairs and smokingtwo cigars in succession rather rapidly. “We’ve put something into his mind thatdoesn’t lie there easily,” hinted Joe. “But, of course, it’s none of our business unlesshe chooses to tell us,” replied Halstead. A little later Joe Dawson went down into theengine room to get the best reasonable work outof the motor. Even at racing speed the “Meteor’s”bow wave was not a big one. Therewas almost an absence of spray dashing overthe helmsman. Tom did not need to put on oilskins,as he had often done on the “Sunbeam.”The “Meteor’s” bow lines were so beautiful andgraceful, so well adapted to an ideal racingcraft, that the bridge deck in ordinary weatherwas not a wet place. As they neared cool, wind-swept Nantucket,Mr. Dunstan came forward once more, to pointout the direction of his own place. This lay onthe west side of the island. As they ran incloser the owner pointed out the mouth of a cove. “We’ve come over in two hours,” announcedMr. Dunstan, consulting his watch as theyneared the cove. “Now that we understand the boat and theengine,” answered Tom, “we ought to go overthe course in less than an hour and a half.” “Fine!” pronounced the owner. “That’swhat the boat was built for. Do that and I canmake the trip to my Boston offices every weekday – if I decide that it’s best to do so.” Tom noted a certain hesitancy about those lastfew words. Again he felt sure that some mysterythreatened the owner’s peace of mind. Into the cove and up alongside the pier the“Meteor” was run. From here large and handsomegrounds and a huge white house, the latterwell back from the water, were visible. “We’ll leave Bouncer on board for the present,”said Mr. Dunstan. “I’ll take you up tothe house so you can get used to the place. Byand by we’ll have lunch. And I want to showyou my boy, Ted.” CHAPTER III – THE LUCKIEST BOY IN THE WORLD Hardly had Mr. Dunstan’s new boatcrew followed him ashore when awhooping yell sounded from up theroad that led to the house. Then into sightdashed a boy mounted on a pony. On they cameat a full gallop, the boy reining up with a jerkwhen barely six feet from his father. “Careful, Ted!” warned Mr. Dunstan laughingly.“Don’t ride me down. You’re notyet through with your use for a father, youknow.” “I was trying to show you, dad, how Sheridanand I are learning our paces together,” repliedthe youngster. He was a rather slightly builtboy, with clustering yellow hair and gray eyes.He wore a khaki suit and a sombrero modeledafter the Army campaign hat. Even his saddlewas of the Army type, being a miniature McClellanin model. Tom liked this lad after the first look. Therewas something whole-souled about this little fellowwith the laughing eyes. And, though hehad been reared in a home of wealth, there wasnothing in the least snobbish in the way hesuddenly turned to regard the Motor Boat Clubboys. “Ted, Captain Halstead and his friend, Dawson,”said Mr. Dunstan. “You’ll be glad toknow that they’ve got the ‘Meteor’ in runningorder again.” Ted was careful to dismount before he offeredhis hand, with graceful friendliness, toeach of the boys. “You’ve made dad happy if you’ve got hisboat to running again,” laughed Master Ted. “And you? Aren’t you fond of motor boating?”queried Tom. “Oh, yes; after a fashion, I suppose,” repliedthe Dunstan hopeful deliberately. “Butthen, you see, I’m cut out for a soldier. I’m togo into the Army, you know, and anything to dowith salt water smacks a bit too much of theNavy.” All of which remarkable declaration MasterTed made as though he imagined these new acquaintancesunderstood all about his futureplans. “The Army is fond of the Navy, of course,”the lad added by way of explanation. “Yet, toa soldier, the Army is the whole thing.” “Oh, I see,” smiled Captain Tom, though intruth he didn’t “see” in the least. “Yes, Ted’s to be a soldier. He’s doomed – or destined – tothat career,” nodded Mr. Dunstangood-humoredly. “There’s a whole longstory to that, Halstead. Perhaps you and Dawsonshall hear the story later. But for nowwe’d better get up to the house.” Master Ted evidently took this as a hint thatthe subject was to be pursued no further forthe present, for he merely said in a very graciousway: “Of course, I shall see you again. So nowI’ll take myself off – with Sheridan.” Resting his left hand through the bridle andgripping the pony’s mane, Master Ted used hisright hand to strike the pony a smart blow overthe rump. As the pony bounded forward thelad made a flying leap into the saddle. It wassuch a flying start as almost to startle Tom andJoe. “He rides like a cowboy,” declared Tom admiringly, watching the mounted youngster outof sight. “He has need to, I fancy,” replied Mr. Dunstangravely. “That is, since he’s going intothe Army, for Ted wouldn’t be satisfied with beinganything less than a cavalryman.” As Mr. Dunstan’s last words or the tone inwhich they were uttered seemed to dismiss thesubject, Halstead and his chum knew that theywere not to be further enlightened for the present.They followed their employer up to thehouse. He took them into a roomy, old-fashionedlooking library, with heavy furniture, and, excusinghimself, left them. He soon returned tosay: “The family are now at luncheon, all exceptMaster Ted, so I have given instructions to haveluncheon served to us in here presently.” In half an hour the meal was before Mr. Dunstanand the boys. It tasted rarely good aftertheir hasty snatches of food aboard the boat.When it was over Mr. Dunstan took a chair onthe porch, lighted a cigar and said: “I’m going to take it easy for a while.Would you like to look about the grounds?” Tom and his chum strolled about. They foundit a delightful country place, covering someforty acres. There was a large stable, a carriagehouse and a garage which contained abig touring car. There were greenhouses, apoultry place and a small power house thatsupplied electric light to the buildings andgrounds. “It looks like the place of a man who hasenough money, but who doesn’t care about makinga big splurge,” commented Joe. “It also looks like the place of an easy-goingman,” replied Halstead. “I wonder how a manlike Mr. Dunstan came to get the motor-boatcraze?” “Oh, I imagine he likes to live out on thisbeautiful old island, and merely keeps the boatas a means of reaching business,” suggestedDawson. After an hour or more they returned to thehouse to find Mr. Dunstan placidly asleep in thesame porch chair. So the boys helped themselvesto seats, kept quiet and waited. Theywere still in doubt as to whether their employerwanted to use the boat later in the day. Theirswas a long wait, but at last Mr. Dunstan awoke, glanced at his watch and looked at the boys. “Becoming bored?” he smiled. “Oh, no,” Tom assured him, “but I’ve hadhard work to keep from falling sound asleep.” “Have you seen Master Ted lately?” “Not since we first met him down by thepier.” “That’s a youngster with quite a picturesquefuture ahead of him, I imagine,” continued Mr.Dunstan. “I call him the luckiest boy alive.Perhaps he is not quite that, but he is going tobe a very rich man if he follows a certaincareer.” “It must be an Army career, then,” hintedHalstead. “It is, just that. And I suppose I might aswell tell you the story, if it would interest youany. A lot of people know the story now, sothere’s no harm in repeating it.” Their host paused to light a cigar before heresumed: “Ours used to be a good deal of a militaryfamily. In fact, every generation supplied twoor three good soldiers. There were five Dunstans, all officers, serving in the War of theRevolution. There were four in the War of1812, two in the War with Mexico and two inthe Civil War. We gradually fell off a bit, yousee, in the numbers we supplied to the Army.The two who served in the Civil War wereuncles of mine. My father didn’t go – wasn’tphysically fit. There were three of us brothers,Gregory, Aaron and myself. Both were olderthan I. Aaron would have made a fine soldier, but he was always weakly. The fact that hecouldn’t wear the uniform almost broke hisheart. Yet Aaron had one fine talent. He knewhow to make money almost without trying. Infact, he died a very rich man. “Greg, on the other hand, was what I expectyou would call the black sheep of the family. Hewent to Honduras years ago. He’s a planter, doing fairly well there, I suppose. He’s prettywild, just as he used to be. He’s always gettingmixed up in the many revolutions that they havedown in that little republic of Honduras. Oneof these days I’m afraid he’ll be shot by a fileof government soldiers for being mixed up insome new revolutionary plot. “My brother Aaron never married. Greghas two daughters, but no sons. Ted is my onlyson and Aaron just worshiped the lad as thelast of the race. Aaron wanted Ted to becomea soldier and keep the family in the Army. Theyoungster was willing enough, but I didn’twholly fancy it. However, my brother Aarondied a little while ago and I found he had fixedthe matter so that Ted will have to be a soldier.” “How could your brother do that?” askedTom. “Why, you see, under the will, brother Gregis let off with one hundred thousand dollars andI get the same. But there’s a proviso in thewill that if, within ninety days from Aaron’sdeath, Ted appears in probate court with me orother guardian, and there both Ted and myselfpromise that he shall be reared for the UnitedStates Army, then half a million dollars is tobe paid over to myself or other guardian, intrust for the boy. The income from that halfmillion is to be used to rear and educate him.But Ted, as a part of his promise, must makeevery effort to get himself appointed a cadet atWest Point.” “Some other boy might get the cadetshipaway from him,” suggested Joe Dawson. “In case Ted simply can’t win a West Pointcadetship,” replied Mr. Dunstan, “then, at theage of twenty-one, his promise will oblige him toenlist in the Army as a private soldier and doall in his power to win an officer’s commissionfrom the ranks.” “Even then, there’s a chance to fail,” hintedTom. “If the lad fails absolutely to get a commissionin the Army,” responded Mr. Dunstan, “hewill lose a lot of money – that’s all. There isanother fund, amounting to two and a half milliondollars, that is to be kept at interest untilthe young man is thirty. By that time themoney, through compound interest, will bemuch more than doubled. On Ted’s thirtiethbirthday all that huge sum of money is to beturned over to him if he has won, somehow, acommission as an officer of the Army. If he hastried, but failed, then the money is to be devotedto various public purposes. “But if Ted fails to go into probate court ontime, with myself or other guardian, and havethe promise made a matter of record, thenhe loses everything. In that case I get thesame hundred thousand dollars as otherwise, but Greg, instead of receiving only ahundred thousand is to get a cool milliondollars.” “Isn’t your brother Gregory likely to contestsuch a will?” asked Tom thoughtfully. “The will provides that, if he does contest, heshall lose even his hundred thousand dollars,”Mr. Dunstan replied. “I have had great lawyersgo all over the will, but they can’t find asingle flaw through which it can be broken. Yousee, the will is right in line with what lawyerscall ‘public policy.’ It’s altogether to the publicinterest to have the boys of our best old families,as of the best new ones, brought up with theidea that, they’re to give their lives to the serviceof their country. So the will is bound tostand against any contest, and if Greg or myselftried to break it we’d only cheat ourselvesout of goodly sums of money.” “Then Master Ted, of course,” pursued Tom,“has been or is going before the probate courtto have the promise recorded.” “To-day is Tuesday,” answered Mr. Dunstan.“The ninety days are up next Monday. On thatday there will be a short session of probate courtand Ted and I are going to be on hand.” “Is this the first time probate court has beenin session since the will was read, sir?” askedHalstead. “Oh, no,” replied their employer in his mosteasy-going tone. “But there was no hurry andI wanted to give the lawyers plenty of time toconsider the matter. Next Monday, beingwithin the required ninety days, will do as wellas any other time.” “Well, of all the easy-going men!” gaspedTom inwardly. “To think, with such a big fortuneat stake, of dilly-dallying until the very lastday of all!” “So, you see, Ted really is a very lucky boy,”finished Mr. Dunstan. “I should say he is!” breathed Halstead, hisface flushing at the thought. He would havebeen happy over a West Point cadetship withoutany enormous reward. “The luckiest boy I ever heard of!” ventedJoe, his nerves a-thrill over this story of one ofFortune’s greatest favorites. “No wonder yourson, sir, is so eager about being a soldier.” “Is your brother Gregory in this countrynow?” asked Tom slowly. “Not to the best of my knowledge,” almostdrawled their employer. “The last I heard ofhim he was still on his plantation in Honduras, probably hatching more revolutionary plots andgiving the government a good excuse for sendingits soldiers to shoot him one of these days.But I do know that, for a while, Greg had Americanlawyers hard at work trying to find someway to smash Aaron’s will. They gave it up, though, and so did Greg, after hearing from methat Master Ted was wild to follow a soldier’scareer.” Both boys were silent for some time. Yet, ifthey did no talking, their thoughts very nearlyran riot. To them it seemed that Ted Dunstan’slot in life lay in all the bright places of gloryand fortune. How they would have relishedsuch a grand chance! “By the way,” said Mr. Dunstan, risingslowly and stretching, “I haven’t seen theyoungster in hours. I think I’ll locate him andbring him around here.” He went into the house. Within the next tenminutes two of the men servants left the house, running hurriedly out of sight in different directions.At the end of twenty minutes Mr. Dunstanhimself appeared, looking actually worried. “We can’t seem to find Ted anywhere,” heconfessed uneasily. “The young man hasn’tbeen seen since he stabled his pony at half-pasttwelve. I thought he would lunch with Mrs.Dunstan; she thought he was lunching with us.We’ve sent all about the grounds, we’ve telephonedthe neighbors and the town, and all withoutavail. The pony is in the stable and theyoung man seems to have disappeared.” “Disappeared?” repeated Tom Halstead, springing to his feet, electrified by the news.“Don’t you think it more likely, sir, he’s beenhelped to disappear?” “You think he may have been spiritedaway?” demanded Mr. Dunstan. “But why?” “Haven’t you yourself told us, sir, that itwould be worth some one’s trouble, to the extentof nine hundred thousand dollars, to havethe boy vanish?” asked Tom breathlessly. “You suspect my brother?” “Pardon me, sir, for forgetting that GregoryDunstan is your brother,” Tom went on whitening.“Yet that talk about disabling the ‘Meteor’!The man who looked like a Spaniard – butthe people of Honduras are of Spanish descent.Why should anyone want to disable the‘Meteor,’ unless to stop a pursuit by water?You yourself have told us that your brother hasa weakness for mixing up in revolutions downin Honduras.” All this Halstead had shot out jerkily, thinkingeven faster than he spoke. “But at this very moment Greg is down inHonduras,” objected Mr. Dunstan. “Even if he is, wouldn’t friends of his, whomay want funds for a new revolution, see howeasy it was to get the money through gettingTed out of the way?” asked Tom quickly.“Grant that your brother is wholly innocent ofany plot about your son. Wouldn’t supposedfriends of his perhaps be willing to spirit theboy away, knowing that if the big money prizewent to your brother, Gregory Dunstan couldafterwards be persuaded to throw his fortuneinto some new revolutionary cause?” “Yes, yes, it’s all possible – horribly possible,”admitted Mr. Dunstan, covering his facewith his hands. “And Greg, who is a citizenof Honduras now, has even had aspirations inthe way of becoming president of Honduras.Halstead, I will admit that I had even thoughtof the possibility of some just such attempt asthis, and yet in broad daylight I dismissed it allas idle dreaming. And now Ted’s gone – heavenonly knows what has become of him!” “Of course,” put in Joe coolly, “it may turnout that the youngster just went fishing. Hemay walk in any moment for his supper.” “But he went without his lunch,” retortedMr. Dunstan. “That was wholly unlike Ted.” “The ‘Meteor’ may be disabled now,” brokein Tom. “If she isn’t, won’t it be more thanwell worth while to get the craft out and goscouting through these waters?” “Yes, yes!” cried Mr. Dunstan. “Come on, boys.” As they raced down through the groundsthey espied the coachman returning. “Come along, Michael!” shouted Mr. Dunstan.Then, to the boys he explained: “If the ‘Meteor’ is fit to go out, Michael cango along with you. If there’s any fighting he’sa heavy-fisted, bull-necked fellow who’d face aregiment of thieves.” Joe had the key of the engine-room hatchwayout in his hand before they reached the pier.In a jiffy he had the sliding door unlocked, almostleaping down into the engine room. Withswift hands he set the engine in motion. “All right here,” he reported, while Bouncer, just liberated, frisked about his master’s legsand then whined. “Keep the bulldog aboard, too, Michael,”called Mr. Dunstan, as he stepped ashore.“Start at once, Captain Halstead. Go as farand wide as you can and hail any craft youthink may have news. Michael, I rely upon youto use your fists if there’s need.” “If there’s the chanst!” grinned the Irishmanreadily. “I’ll run back to the house and get in touchwith the police,” Mr. Dunstan shouted backover his shoulder. Tom sprinted aft along the pier, throwing thestern-line aboard. He leaped aboard forwardwith the bowline, not stopping then to coil it. Not even calling to Joe, whose head wasbarely six feet away, young Captain Tom Halsteadgave the bridge bellpull a single jerk. Asthe response sounded in the engine room alertJoe gave the engine slow speed ahead. Tomthrew the wheel over and the fine boat glidedout from her berth. Two bells! Full speed ahead! The “Meteor”forged forward, gaining headway everymoment. The hunt for missing Ted Dunstanwas started in earnest. CHAPTER IV – SIGHTING THE “PIRATE” “How much speed do you want for thistrip?” asked Joe, poking his headup through the hatchway as soon asthe “Meteor” was running smoothly northward. “On a hunt like this I think Mr. Dunstan willwant us to burn gasoline,” Tom answered.“Give her about all the speed she can make.” “That means twenty-five miles – or more?”insisted Dawson. “Twenty-five will be close enough to goingfast,” Tom replied. Almost immediately the fast motor boat beganto leap through the water. Though the boatminded her helm sensitively, Halstead restedboth hands upon the wheel, watching intentlyahead. “Hey! What you trying to do? Swamp us, with your wake?” demanded an irate fishermanin a dory, as they raced past him. But they had gone only close enough to enablebig Michael, standing on the deck house, topeer at the inside of the dory. Several other small craft without cabins theyran close to in the same manner, making surethat no stolen boy was on any of them. Up near Great Point they encountered a cabinsloop. Michael, however, recognized a clergymanfriend as one of this party, so Halsteadpassed them with only a friendly toot from theauto whistle. Then down around the east coast of Nantucketthey sped, further out to sea now, since inshoreno craft were observed. They kept on untilthe south coast, too, had been passed, but therewas no sign to gladden their eyes nor arousetheir suspicions. Next along the south shore ofthe island the “Meteor” raced, and on out toMuskeget Island. From this point they hadonly to round the latter island and steer straightback for the inlet where Mr. Dunstan’s pier lay. “Sure, I don’t like to go back stumped likethis,” growled Michael. “No more do I,” rejoined Tom. “Say, we’vegot daylight enough; I’m going to retrace ourwhole 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 back, going now within a quarterof a mile of the shore. “It begins to look,” hinted Joe, “as thoughwhoever is leading the young Dunstan heirastray hasn’t taken him off the island of Nantucketat all.” “There are plenty of hiding places on Nantucket, aren’t there?” inquired Tom, turning tothe big coachman. “Plenty,” nodded Michael, “if the rapscallionsknew their way about the old island. But,by the same token, the rascals would be in plentyof danger of being found by the constables.” “Of course Mr. Dunstan is having the localofficers search,” pondered Tom aloud. “Hesaid he would. He can telegraph the mainlandfrom the island, too, can’t he, Michael?” “Sure,” nodded the coachman. “Then Mr. Dunstan must have waked upsome pretty big searching parties by this time, both on the island and on the mainland,” Halsteadconcluded. “But see here, Michael, whywouldn’t it be a good plan to put you ashore?You can telephone Mr. Dunstan and see ifthere’s any news.” “And if there ain’t any,” suggested the Irishman,“I might as well be going home acrossthe island on foot, and keeping me eyesopen. I can ask questions as I go along, andmaybe be the first of all to find out any ralenews.” “That’ll be the best plan of any,” approvedHalstead. “It begins to look more sure, everyminute, that we’re not going to need your finelot of muscle.” At the lower end of the east coast of the islandTom remembered having seen a pier that wouldserve them for landing the Irishman. Theymade for that pier accordingly and Michaelleaped ashore. “I’ll telephone and then come back withinsight,” the coachman called back to them, ashe started. “If ’tis good news I’m hearing, I’llthrow up me hat two or three times. If ’tis nonews, I’ll wave a hand.” The “Meteor” then fell off, but kept to herbearings while ten minutes passed. ThenMichael appeared in sight from the shore. Hewaved one hand and signed to the boys to keepon their course. “Too bad!” sighed Tom. “But it makes itmore certain than ever now, doesn’t it, Joe, thatsome real disaster has happened to young TedDunstan? It’s past the lad’s dinner time now.No healthy boy goes without either luncheon ordinner, unless there’s a big reason for it.” “Unless Ted has merely gone to some friend’shome and has forgotten to notify his parents,”suggested Dawson. “But Ted doesn’t strike me as the boy who’slikely to do that. He’s a fine little fellow, andI don’t believe he’d be guilty of being so inconsiderateas to leave home for hours withouttelling some one.” They had the “Meteor” under full headwaynow. Tom, with one hand on the wheel, kept akeen lookout. They had run along some mileswhen Halstead gave a sudden gasp, made adive for the rack beside the wheel that held thebinoculars and called sharply: “Take the wheel, Joe!” With that Tom Halstead bounded down intothe engine room. Over at one of the openportholes he raised the marine glasses to hiseyes. “What’s the matter?” called down Joe, filledwith the liveliest curiosity. “Matter enough!” came his chum’s excitedrejoinder. “Don’t look when I tell you. Keepyour eyes on your course ahead. But you sawthat little pier over at port?” “Yes.” “Maybe you noticed a man sitting there?” “I did,” Joe admitted. “When I first saw him,” Tom went on, showinghis animated face at the hatchway, “I didn’tthink much about him. But the second time Ilooked I thought I saw something that broughtback recollections. That was why I came downhere for a near-sighted peep through the glasses.The fellow couldn’t see me down here and soought not to suspect that we have noticed himparticularly.” “But who is he?” cried Joe eagerly. “Oh, he’s the right man, all right,” Tom retortedperhaps vaguely. “He’s got on eitherthe 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 thesame old pattern of brown, striped – ” “The Span – ” “The pirate, I call him,” growled Halstead, stepping up on deck and replacing the binocularsin their rack without another look ashore. Theywere rapidly leaving astern the solitary oneseated against the pier rail. “Do you think – ” began Joe, but Tom gavehim no chance to finish. “I don’t think anything,” broke in Halstead, alive with energy. “I am going to know – that’swhat.” Tom took the wheel himself, swinging thecraft around a point of land just ahead. “Look back, Joe. This shuts us out from thesight of that striped pirate, doesn’t it?” “Yes,” nodded Dawson. Tom shut off the speed, adding: “Stand ready, Joe, to use speed or wheel, andkeep her about so-so. I’m going to lower thedingey into the water and row ashore. I’ll riga line to her stern, so you can haul her back.Don’t bother to get the small boat up at thedavits. Just make her fast astern. Andthen – ” “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 justwhat I’m doing and assure him I won’t be afraidto telephone if I learn anything worth while.I’ll get over to his place as soon as I can, laterin the evening.” Tom got the small boat into the water, leftone end of a small rope in Joe’s hands androwed somewhat more than a hundred feet tothe beach. From there he waved his hand. Joebegan to haul in on the line. Within thirty feetof the beach the woods began; Halstead wasquickly lost to his chum’s sight. Full darkness came on while Tom was stillin the woods heading cautiously south. As hehastened along, making little or no noise, Halsteadwondered what he would do with the manin case he discovered him to be really one ofthe pair who had sat in the seat ahead on thetrain. “I suppose I’d better wait and make up mymind after I’m sure it is the same fellow,” Tomconcluded. The young skipper did not, at any time on thisswift walk, move far from the shore line. Atlast he came to the edge of the woods, a veryshort distance from the pier he was seeking.There was still a man there, seated on the railof the pier. There were some bushes, too, to aidin shielding the boy’s forward progress if heused care. Tom went down, almost flat, thencrept forward, moving swiftly, silently, betweenbushes. At last he was near enough to be sure of hisman, trousers and all. It was the same manHalstead had seen on the train. The “pirate”was at this moment engaged in rolling a cigarette. CHAPTER V – A JOKE ON THE ENEMY The slight, swarthy stranger rolled hiscigarette up nicely, moistening the edgeof the paper, stuck the thing between hislips, lighted the tobacco and began to smoke inevident enjoyment. “That’s my party, all right,” quivered Tom.“And now I’ve found him what on earth am Igoing to do with him?” That was a new poser. Halstead had been sointent on identifying his suspect that, now herecognized him, he must figure out what wasto be done. “If the fellow is all right he ought to haveno objections to going along with me and answeringquestions. If he won’t do that” – hereTom’s eyes began to flash – “I believe I’ll makehim. This is a business that calls for sternmeasures. This fellow belongs to the crowdthat must know all about Ted Dunstan’s disappearance.” Yet, to look at him, one would hardly suspectthe swarthy man leaning against the pier railof being a conspirator. As he smoked he appearedto be wholly at peace with himself andwith the world. He did not seem to have a careon earth. As he still crouched behind a bush, watchingthe nearby fellow in the dark, an impulse ofmischief came to Tom Halstead. He rememberedthat night prowling about the “Meteor”over at Wood’s Hole, and he remembered howBouncer had frightened this same man. “Gr-r-r-r!” sounded Tom suddenly from behindthe bush. “Gr-r-r-r! Woof! Woof!” It was a splendid imitation of the growl andbark of a bulldog. At the same instant Tommade a semi-spring through the bush. The “pirate” uttered a wordless howl offright. He lurched, attempted to recover himselfand leap at the same instant, and — Splash! There was another howl of terroras the man slipped over backward, then, head-first, 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 TomHalstead’s mind as could be. With an upwardbound he sprinted out onto the pier, bendingunder the rail close to where the frightened onewas making huge rings on the water in hisstruggle to keep up. In his efforts the fellow reached one of thepiles of the pier, hanging to it in mortal terror. “Help, help, kind sir!” he pleaded hoarsely.“Not a stroke do I swim. Pull me out before Idrown.” Throwing himself upon the pier, Tom bentdown with both hands. “Here, catch hold,” he hailed. “You’re inno danger. I’ll pull you out all right.” It was some moments before Tom could persuadehis “pirate” to let go that frantic clutchat the pile. But at length Halstead drew hisdripping suspect up onto the boards of thepier. “Where is that terrible, that miser-r-rabledog!” panted the swarthy one, glaring abouthim. “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 aroundhim. “The wr-r-retched animal sprang for me.His teeth almost grazed my leg.” Such was the power of imagination – a finetribute to Tom’s skill as a mimic. “Aren’t you thinking of the other night, overat Wood’s Hole, when you tried to get aboardthe ‘Meteor’ to wreck the engine?” Halstead shot this question out with disconcertingsuddenness. The young skipper lookedstraight, keenly, into the other’s eyes, standingso that he could prevent the stranger’s suddenbolt from the pier. “I? What do you talk about?” demanded theforeigner, pretending astonishment. “Oh, I know all about you,” nodded Tom.“You’re the party.” “Be careful, boy! You insult me!” cried theother angrily. “That’s all right, then,” Tom went on coolly.“Now maybe I’m going to insult you a littlemore. The trouble is, I need information, andyou’re the best one to give it to me. Where’sTed Dunstan?” “I – I – you – ” stammered the foreigner.“What do I know about Ted Dunstan? No, no,no! You are wrong. I have not seen the boy – donot know him.” “Yet you appear to know that he is a boy,”insisted Tom sternly. “Come, now, if you won’ttalk with me you’d better walk along with me, and we’ll find some one you’ll be more willingto answer.” “How? I walk with you? Boy, do not be afool,” retorted the swarthy one angrily. “Ishall not walk with you. I do not like yourcompany.” “I’m not sure that I like yours, either,” retortedthe boy. “But there are times when Icannot afford to be particular. Come, whyshould you object to walking along with me?All I propose is that we find the nearest constableand that you answer his questions. Theconstable will decide whether to hold you ornot.” “Step aside,” commanded the swarthy manimperiously. Full of outraged dignity he attemptedto brush past the young skipper. ButTom Halstead, both firm and cool, now that hismind was made up, took a grip on the fellow’sleft arm. “Take your hand off! Let me go!” screamedthe fellow, his eyes ablaze with passion. “Outof my way, idiot, and take yourself off!” As the swarthy one struggled to free himselfTom only tightened his grip, much as the bullpup would have done. “Don’t be disagreeable,” urged Tom.“Come, my request is a very proper one. I’monly asking you to go before one of the officersof the law. No honest man can really objectto that.” “You – ” screamed the foreigner. He shot his right hand suddenly into a jacketpocket. But Tom, watching every movementalertly, let go of the fellow’s left arm, makinga bound and seizing his right arm with bothstrong hands. There was a fierce struggle, butHalstead’s muscles had been toughened byexercise and by many days of hard work at a steeringwheel in rough weather. This slight manfrom another country was no match for theAmerican boy. Down they went to the flooring of the pierwith a crash, but young Halstead was uppermost.In another twinkling he was bending theswarthy one’s right arm until that fellow wasready to sue for a truce. Tom now held him helpless, kneeling on him. “What were you trying to fish out of thatjacket pocket?” demanded the young motor boatcaptain, thrusting his own hand in. He drewout something and held it up briefly – a claspknife. “A coward’s tool!” uttered Tom, his voiceringing scornfully. Then he threw the claspknife far out so that it splashed in the water.“Why don’t you cultivate a man’s muscle andfight like a man, instead of toting around thingslike that? Come, get up on your feet.” Bounding up, Halstead yanked the other upright.In a twinkling the swarthy man brokefrom 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 resoluteyoung captor! They were about of a height, these two, and might have weighed about thesame. But the man possessed nowhere near thestrength of this sea-toughened boy. “Now see here,” spoke Tom more pleasantly,“I’m doing what I think is right or I wouldn’tventure to be so rough. Walk along with mesensibly, until we can find out where a constablelives. I’ve got the best of you and you realizeI can do it again. But I don’t want to be roughwith you. It goes against the grain.” The swarthy one’s only answer was to glareat the young skipper with a look full of hate. Tom suddenly changed his tone. “I know what you’re thinking of, myman,” he cried tauntingly. “You are justthinking to yourself what a fine time you’dhave with me if you had me down in Honduras – whereyour friends do things in a differentway!” The taunt told, for the stranger’s eyesgleamed 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,” mockedHalstead. “Honduras is your country, and nowI know to a dot why you’re interested in havingTed Dunstan vanish and stay vanished for awhile. Come along, now. We’ll keep right onuntil we find that constable!” Tom seized the stranger’s right arm in earnestnow. The other held back, as though hewould resist, but suddenly changed his mind. “You are somewhat the stronger – withhands,” he said in an ugly tone. “So I shall gowith you. But perhaps you will much regretwhat you are doing to-night.” “Oh, I hope not,” Tom jeered cheerily. “Atall events I’m doing the best I know how. AndI’m glad you’re not going to make any fuss. Ihate to be cranky with anyone.” The place to which the pier belonged looked, from what Tom had been able to see of it, likea run-down coast farm. Away up on a hill tothe left were a dilapidated old farm house andother buildings. Halstead feared, though, thatthe stranger might have friends up at that houseand so decided to keep on through the woods atthe right. Before long they struck a fairly well definedroad through the forest, a road that lookedas though it might lead to somewhere in particular. “We’ll keep right on along this road, if youdon’t mind,” said the boy. He kept now only afair hold of the other’s wrist. As the swarthyone offered no opposition, they made passablygood speed over the road. But Tom, though helooked unconcerned, was wholly on the alert forany sudden move on the part of his captive. “If I find I’m wholly in the wrong,” saidTom pleasantly, after they had gone at least aquarter of a mile in this fashion, “there isn’tanyone in the whole United States who’d bemore glad to make a complete apology.” “But that will not save you from trouble,”breathed the swarthy one angrily. “The lawsof your country do not allow such high-handeddeeds 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 meabout Honduras,” he went on presently. “Whydo you say so much about Honduras?” “I’ve trapped you into admitting that it’syour country,” laughed Halstead. “And thattells me, too, why you are so interested in havingTed Dunstan kept out of sight for the nextfew days.” “What’s all this talk about Honduras?” demandeda gruff voice. The challenge madeboth jump. A stocky figure stepped alertly outfrom behind a tree. It was the solidly built, florid-faced man – the other of the pair Tomhad first seen in the seat ahead. “Oh, you, you, you!” cried the swarthy onedelightedly, as he wrenched his captive wristfree from Halstead’s weakening clutch. “Youhave appeared in time, my friend!” “So?” roared the florid-faced one, taking abusiness-like grip of Tom Halstead’s collar.“What was this young cub doing?” “Doing?” cried the swarthy one, dancing inhis wrath, his eyes gleaming like coals. “Hehad the impudence, this boy, to say he wouldtake me to a constable. He insists that I knowall about one Ted Dunstan.” Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/hancock-harrie-irvin/the-motor-boat-club-at-nantucket-or-the-mystery-of-th/) на ЛитРес. 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