Four Afloat: Being the Adventures of the Big Four on the Water

“What’s that?” asked Nelson.

“Shut up and I’ll tell you. It’s a dandy big old summer hotel with about three hundred swells stopping at it. And palms and orchestra chaps in red pyjamas and all sorts of frills. Well, I butted in out of the fog with my blanket nicely folded over my arm and my feet wringing wet and no cap nor anything and strolled up to the desk. All the old gentlemen around the fireplace were staring at me just as though I was President Roosevelt.”

“I can fancy the resemblance,” said Bob dryly.

“Well, I asked as big as life for the manager and they sent for him. He was a nice-looking young chap and I told him who I was and all about it. He seemed to think it awfully funny and asked me into his private office and made me tell him all over again about it. Then he wanted to know what I was after. I told him I was after something to eat, principally. So he sent me down to what they called the ‘ordinary,’ which is a young dining room where the nurses and kids eat, and pretty soon I was wallowing in coffee and rolls and beefsteak and Spanish omelet and – ”

“Oh, hush!” begged Nelson.

“ – and some sort of griddle cakes. It was fine. Afterwards I went back to the manager chap and thanked him. ‘And now what are you going to do?’ he asked. Well, I didn’t know. I didn’t feel like setting out to hunt you fellows again and I told him so. But, of course, I didn’t have any money with me, not a red cent, and I told him that, too. So he said I could stay there if I wanted until the next day. But he sort of suggested that I’d better keep out of sight, seeing as I wasn’t exactly dressed for a party. There was an eight-course dinner at one o’clock, although they called it luncheon, and I did pretty well, considering that I’d had my breakfast about two hours before. At the table there was a young fellow about my age and we got to talking. He was the head bell boy; ‘Captain’ he called himself; and he went to school at St. Something-or-other’s in Connecticut. We had a long chin and I found that the bell boys were all schoolfellows, and after luncheon I went up with him and met some of them. They were dandy fellows and I said I wouldn’t mind a job there myself. So the Captain – his name was Roberts – said if I meant it he’d take me on, because they had lost two boys and hadn’t found any new ones yet. So I said ‘Me for the ice-water pitchers!’”

“Well, if you’re not the craziest dub, Tommy!” laughed Nelson.

“Roberts handed me out a nice little plum-colored uniform; long trousers, a monkey jacket with four thousand little round brass buttons down the front and a funny little round cap with a line of gilt braid chasing over the top of it. And a fellow named McCarthy lent me a pair of shoes, because mine weren’t fit to be seen. So I was fixed. But the sad part of it was that as soon as I got to be a bell boy I didn’t eat in the ordinary. And we didn’t get any of the frills. But there was enough of it; you could have all you wanted, you know. I went on duty at six o’clock. There were seven of us and I tell you we were busy! Along about nine o’clock everything began to happen at once; ice water, find the chambermaid, bring sea water in a bucket, find out why the electric light didn’t work, get a plate of oatmeal crackers, find lost kids and – oh, everything! And the bell in the office was thumping holes in itself. But it was pretty good fun. And when you got to the fourth floor you could slide nearly three flights on the banister rail – if no one saw you. But along about twelve or half-past I thought my legs were coming off. They wouldn’t let us ride on the elevator unless we were showing some one to his room and the stairs were fierce. They let me off at one o’clock and I couldn’t wait to get my clothes off. I guess I’ve lost ten pounds.”

Nelson hooted.

“Where did you sleep?” asked Bob.

“In the Servants’ Hall, as they called it; a building back of the hotel with a lot of little rooms with iron beds in them. I could have slept on the office floor or on top of the elevator cage that night! To-day I didn’t have to go to work until twelve o’clock, and I was glad of it, I tell you, for my legs were stiff as anything! They’re stiff yet,” added Tom, stretching them carefully as though he was afraid they might break off, “but not so bad; they’ve got limbered up now.”

“Did they let you off early?” asked Nelson.

Tom shook his head smilingly.

“No,” he answered. “I severed my connection with the Seamont Inn at exactly half-past eight. It was this way. I got a call to Room 86. When I went up there an old codger with a white mustache and a red face lighted into me for not coming sooner; said he’d been ringing for ten minutes and I was the slowest boy he’d ever seen and needed to have some of the fat worked off me. I said I’d bet I could beat him to the end of the hall and back and he got waxy about it; said he was going to send for the manager and have me discharged. I told him to go ahead. So I went downstairs and resigned before the old codger could report me. The manager chap said he guessed I wasn’t cut out for a bell boy. I asked him if I owed him anything and he said No, I’d worked it off. He was very decent about it. I told him I’d be glad to pay him, though, if he thought I owed him anything and he wanted to know how. ‘Thought you said you didn’t have any money?’ said he. I told him I didn’t have any when I got there, but that I’d made four dollars and seventy-five cents in tips. He thought that was funny, too; he had a keen sense of humor for a hotel man. But he said we were square, and so I thanked him and shook hands with him and changed my clothes. Roberts was sorry I was going; said they all had trouble with the red-faced old idiot.”

“He ought to have spanked you, just the same,” said Bob.

Tom grinned.

“He’d have tried it, I guess, if he’d had any clothes on to speak of. Well, I called up the hotel in New London on the ’phone and asked if you fellows had been there and they said you had and had left word that I was to come to the wharf by the ferry slip. So when it stopped raining I started to walk it; they said it was only three and a half miles. But about the time I was half way it began to pour like anything. I got under a tree for a while, but that wasn’t any good and so I came on. When I saw this light I thought it was a house. But while I was trying to find the doorbell I heard you fellows talking. I heard Bob say ‘I guess I’m like Tommy.’ Then I opened the door a bit and peeped in. That’s all.”

“And you thought it would be a fine joke to scare the life out of us, eh?” asked Bob.

Tom nodded.

“Well, you came pretty near to doing it. I never saw a more outlandish object than you were when you came through the door!”

“Why didn’t you go back to the cove yesterday afternoon?” asked Nelson.

“I was bell-boying,” answered Tom calmly. “Besides, you fellows were having your joke and I thought you might as well enjoy it.”

“It would have served you jolly well right,” replied Bob severely, “if we’d gone on and left you.”

“I wouldn’t have cared.”

“Oh, no, I suppose not,” said Nelson sarcastically. “I’d like to know what you’d have done.”

“Stayed right there until I’d made another dollar or two and gone on to New York to Dan’s house.”

“Huh! Dan’s father would have thrown you off the doorsteps! Think he’d have taken in such a looking thing as you were?”

“I’d have risked it,” laughed Tom. “When’s Dan coming back?”

“To-morrow morning. And as soon as he does we’re going to make trades for New Haven. I’m tired of loafing around here doing nothing but hunt for idiots,” said Nelson.

“Meaning me, dearie?” asked Tom. “Hope you choke. Say, can we get back to the boat to-night? It’s raining harder than ever.”

“What time is it?” asked Nelson. “Got your watch on, Bob?”

“Quarter to twelve,” answered Bob. “I vote we stay here and be as comfortable as we can. Is there any more wood?”

“Plenty. There are two or three old gunny sacks around and we can spread those out, put our oilskins on top and sleep finely. We can spread Tommy’s blanket over us.”

So, after building the fire up high, they followed Nelson’s plan and, lying close together for warmth, were soon asleep, with the rain pelting a lullaby on the leaky roof.

They awoke shivering at seven o’clock and started back to town. The sun was out bright and a mile of the muddy road warmed them up. They reached the hotel at half-past eight and went through the entire bill of fare. But it took time and consequently it was almost ten when they crossed the railroad tracks at the station and walked down the wharf. They had left Barry on board the evening before and Bob was calling himself names for deserting him for so long when Nelson, who was a few yards ahead, uttered a cry of astonishment and stopped dead in his tracks.

“What’s the row?” asked Bob, hurrying to his side.

Nelson looked dazedly at Bob and then at the water below them. And Bob and Tom, following his eyes with their own, understood. The Vagabond had disappeared.

CHAPTER XXI – TELLS OF THE SEARCH FOR THE VAGABOND

“Are you sure you left her here?” asked Tom. “Don’t be a fool, Tommy, if you can help it,” answered Bob shortly. “Of course we’re sure.”

“Then – where is she?”

“Well, if we knew we wouldn’t be standing here answering your idiotic questions,” replied Nelson. After which he and Bob, each having sat on Tom, regained some of their equanimity.

“You don’t suppose anyone has swiped her, do you. Nel?” Bob asked anxiously.

“Looks like it,” was the answer. “Only – how could they get in to start the engine?”

“Are you sure you locked the door?”

“Positive. And here’s the key. And the only other one is in the cabin, unless Dan has it; he had it a couple of days ago.”

“They might have burst the locks, I suppose,” said Bob. But Nelson looked doubtful.

“They might break the padlock on the hatch, but the door lock is a pretty stiff one to get at. I suppose they might have picked it, though.”

“Maybe they didn’t start the engine,” said Tom. “Maybe they just towed her away as she was.”

“That’s right, Tommy!” exclaimed Bob. “That’s just about it. If she’s been stolen that’s the way they’ve done it. Besides, even if anyone could get the door open Barry wouldn’t let them stay in the engine room long enough to turn the wheel over. He’d scare ’em out in no time. He wouldn’t let anyone but you or Tommy or me go down those stairs.”

“Or Dan,” suggested Tom thoughtfully.

“Dan, of course,” answered Bob.

“And Dan had the other key, maybe,” continued Tom.

“Yes, I think so,” said Nelson. “By Jove, Tommy, you’re right! Perhaps Dan has gone off with her!”

“Nonsense!” said Bob. “He wouldn’t know how to start her, to say nothing of running her after she was started!”

“I’m not so sure,” answered Nelson. “He’s watched things pretty carefully lots of times, come to think of it. Besides, it wouldn’t make much difference to him whether he knew how or not. If he wanted to do it he would, and he’s a lucky beggar.”

“But could he have got back as early as this?” asked Bob.

“Let’s go over to the station and find out,” suggested Tom.

“You and Bob go,” Nelson said, “and I’ll see if I can find anyone around here who saw the Vagabond go out.” At the station Bob consulted the ticket agent.

“First train leaves New York at 4.54,” said the agent, “and arrives here at 9.45.”

“He wouldn’t take that,” said Bob to Tom. “He’d have to get up at four o’clock. Besides, we were at the wharf at a quarter to ten. What’s the next one?”

“Eight o’clock from New York, arriving here 10.45,” answered the agent. “Another at 10.00, arriving 12.45, another at 10.02, arriving – ”

“Thanks,” interrupted Bob. “Those would be too late. There’s no train, then, except the 4.54 which gets here before 9.45?”

Their informant shook his head impatiently and they moved aside.

“That disposes of Dan,” said Bob. “It isn’t the least bit likely that he’d get up at four o’clock to take a slow train when he could wait until eight and get one reaching here only an hour later. And if he has taken the eight o’clock he won’t be here for nearly three quarters of an hour. So it looks as though some one had deliberately run off with the boat.”

“Gee!” said Tom. “Won’t we be in a fix? Do you suppose we’ll ever find it and get it back?”

“I don’t know,” replied Bob. “I should think, though, that a thirty-six-foot launch would be a pretty hard thing to hide.”

“But the fellow who took it could paint out the name and fix her up a little differently and no one could tell she was stolen.”

“Yes, if we gave him time. But what we’ve got to do now is to get busy. There’s Nel over there.”

Nelson’s report was not comforting. No one had seen the launch that morning, and one old fellow who had rowed across the river at seven o’clock and whose skiff was now tied at the end of the wharf declared that the launch had not been there when he arrived.

“That means,” said Nelson, “that she’s been stolen some time in the night. The man over at the ferry slip says I ought to tell the police and the harbor master at once and telephone up to Norwich and to New Haven and Stonington. So I guess we’d better get busy. Of course they could tow the launch over to some place on Long Island just as easily as they could take her to New Haven, and we can’t very well telephone there, I suppose.”

“Of course you can,” said Bob. “They’ll give you connection at New York. But I think you might as well save your money. If she’s been stolen there’s just one place the thief will take her to, and that’s New York or somewhere around there.”

“Maybe,” replied Nelson dolefully. “Thunder! If we don’t find her I’ll hate to go back home and face the pater!”

“We’ll find her,” said Bob earnestly. “Do you know where the police hang out?”

“Yes, the man told me where to go,” answered Nelson as they left the wharf.

“If she was towed away,” said Tom, “they must have used a launch, I suppose.”

“Probably,” Bob agreed. “They wouldn’t be likely to use a rowboat and a sailboat wouldn’t be much better. If the wind died out they’d be caught.”

“Unless they started early last night and got over to Long Island or down the shore somewhere while it was dark,” said Nelson. “They might put in at some little out-of-the-way place and no one would think of looking for them.”

“Well, if it was a launch,” said Tom, “wouldn’t it be a good plan for the police to find out whether any launch is missing?”

“I should think it would,” said Bob, and Nelson agreed. “We’ll suggest it to them. Have you any more of those clever ideas, Tommy?”

“Well; I think we ought to hire a boat of some sort, a launch if we can find one, and hunt around ourselves. It wouldn’t be much of a trick to run up to Norwich, and it wouldn’t take long to search the shore around here.”

“That’s a scheme!” cried Nelson. “Tommy, you’re a brick! It will keep us busy, besides, and I’d go crazy if I had to sit around the hotel here and wait for the police to do things!”

“How about money?” asked Bob.

“Thunder! That’s so! They’ve got our money, too! How much have you got, Bob?”

“Two or three dollars.”

“And I’ve got four-seventy-five,” said Tom.

“That’s about seven,” said Nelson, “and I’ve got about a dollar in change. Eight dollars won’t go very far, though, when it comes to telephoning all around the country and renting a launch!”

“You forget Dan,” said Bob. “He’s sure to have a lot of tin on him.”

“That’s right. And look here!” Nelson stopped and looked back toward the railroad station. “What time is it, Bob?”

“Almost half-past ten.”

“Then one of us ought to go back to the station and meet Dan. If he goes down there and finds the launch gone there’s no knowing where he will wander to. Will you go down and wait for him, Tommy? Tell him what’s up and hold him at the station until we get back.”

“All right,” answered Tom. “And we might be making inquiries about a launch, eh?”

“Yes, but be back on the platform by eleven.”

Tom retraced his steps to the station, leaving the others to go on in search of the police officials. He passed a fruit and candy store on the way and was sorely tempted to buy some of the latter, but he told himself resolutely that what money he had ought to be expended toward recovering the Vagabond and so fought off the temptation. The Mayflower Limited rolled in on time to the minute and Tom watched the steps of the long line of parlor cars in expectation of seeing Dan descend. But no Dan appeared. After making certain of this fact Tom went into the station and studied the time-table.

“Now he can’t get here until a quarter to one,” he said disgustedly. “And we need his money like anything! I dare say he didn’t want to pay the extra fare on the Limited, the stingy beggar!”

He went down to the wharf to make sure that Dan had not somehow managed to get off of the train on the other side and gone to look for the Vagabond. But the wharf was empty, and so Tom set out on the search for a launch to rent.

Twenty minutes later the three met again on the station platform, all more cheerful for having accomplished something. Bob reported smilingly that the wheels of justice were in motion and that already the local sleuths were on the trail. Nelson had sent telephone messages up and down the Sound and over to Long Island. Tom had found the very thing they wanted in the way of a launch.

“She’s a little bit of a thing, only eighteen feet long,” he explained, “but she can go like anything. And we can hire her for six dollars a day. I tried to make him take five, but he wouldn’t. She’s right up here at a wharf. Come on and look at her.”

The Sylph proved to be a very smart-looking little craft, built of white cedar and mahogany. Her engine took up a good deal of space, but there remained room for four passengers. The owner had built her himself and was very proud of her, so proud that when Bob and Nelson became enthusiastic over her lines and finish, and when he had learned why they wanted her, he voluntarily knocked off a dollar of the renting price.

“Call it five dollars for to-day and the same for to-morrow if you need her again,” he said. “I guess you can run the engine all right, but I’ll show you one or two things about it that you probably aren’t used to.”

The one or two things proved to be small improvements of his own devising and it took some time for Nelson to understand them. But at a quarter to twelve they had paid their five dollars and were in possession of the Sylph. They ran her down to the wharf where they had left the Vagabond and found that she went finely.

“Shall we wait for the 12.45 train and get Dan?” asked Nelson. “Or shall we leave word for him somewhere and start out now?”

“Let’s get at it as soon as we can,” answered Bob. “Dan can look out for himself.”

So Nelson was left in charge of the launch while Bob went to the station to telephone a message to the hotel in case Dan turned up there looking for them, and Tom hurried to the nearest store after crackers and cheese and cookies. For with only sixty cents left between them there was no use thinking about an elaborate luncheon. When they returned in the evening they would go to the hotel and live on credit until Nelson’s father sent them some money. Bob and Tom were soon back and the Sylph headed up the river.

Bob had been in favor of searching downstream and along the shore east and west of the river mouth first, but Nelson said he had a feeling that the Vagabond had been taken toward Norwich, and Tom threw his vote with Nelson’s. It wasn’t likely that the thief would leave the launch anywhere around the town, but they searched the waterfront thoroughly to be on the safe side and then ran across the river to the Groton shore. After a search there the Sylph was again headed upstream. Twice in the ensuing half hour they approached the east shore to examine boats which, seen from the middle of the river, seemed to bear some resemblance to the Vagabond. But in each case they were doomed to disappointment, the craft proving on closer acquaintance to be very little like their missing launch. They went slowly in order that they might search each bank of the stream carefully and at half-past one they had only reached the second bend in the river. For some time past they had seen no launches either in the stream or moored along the banks and Bob suggested that Nelson send the Sylph at a faster pace so that they would have more time to look around and make inquiries at Norwich before it was necessary to turn homeward.

“All right,” Nelson answered. “I guess she isn’t hidden around here anywhere.”

It didn’t seem likely, for the banks were devoid of coves, and field and forest came straight down to the water’s edge. Nelson was just reaching forward to advance the spark, and the Sylph was just swinging around the turn in the river, when Tom began to sputter.

“Lu-lu-lu-lu-look!” he cried.

“Where?” asked Nelson and Bob with one voice, turning their heads excitedly from side to side. Tom pointed across the stream toward the west bank.

“Th-th-there! Su-su-su-see that bu-bu-bu-boat under the tu-tu-tu-trees?”

“Jove!” exclaimed Bob.

“The Vagabond!” cried Nelson, turning the wheel over fast.

“Looks like it,” said Bob excitedly, “but what’s she doing there? I don’t believe it is her after all, Nel.”

“I know it is,” was the reply as the Sylph, headed obliquely across the river, chugged her fastest. “I’d know her anywhere!”

“Wu-wu-wu-well,” stuttered Tom, “I du-du-du-don’t pr-pretend to knu-knu-know the bu-bu-boat, bu-bu-but I knu-knu-know the du-du-du-du-dog!”

“He’s right,” exclaimed Bob. “That’s Barry on the cabin roof!”

“Then they did get into the engine room,” said Nelson, his eyes fixed intently on the distant craft, “and they didn’t tow her. I wish,” he added, “that we had that revolver of yours, Bob.”

“So do I,” answered Bob gravely.

The little Sylph, as though comprehending the impatience of those she carried, dashed across the river.

CHAPTER XXII – WHEREIN THE VAGABOND IS RECOVERED AND THE THIEF IS CAPTURED

The Vagabond lay anchored close to shore, her nose pointing upstream and shaded by the drooping branch of a willow tree. Beside her, tugging gently at the painter, was the tender. On the cabin roof, stretched out at full length in a patch of hot sunshine, lay Barry. No other life was visible, and had it not been that the tender was tied to an awning stanchion and that the cabin door and hatch were wide open those on the Sylph would have concluded that the person who had run away with the Vagabond had rifled her of money and other valuables and abandoned her here. But at least a dozen yards separated her from the land and it was not likely that the thief would have swam ashore while there was a tender handy. “No, it was evident to the party on the Sylph that whoever had taken the Vagabond from the wharf at New London was still on board, and when they had approached to within a hundred yards Nelson slowed down the engine, resolved to get as near as possible to the Vagabond without detection. Bob and Tom silently peeled off their coats, and Nelson followed suit, cinching in his leather belt in a businesslike way.

“It’s funny about Barry,” said Nelson softly. “You’d think they’d have got rid of him.”

“Oh, he probably made friends,” answered Bob. “I’m glad he did. They might have thrown him overboard.”

“How many do you suppose there are?” asked Nelson as he opened the switch, shut off the gasoline and allowed the Sylph to glide silently toward the enemy. Bob shook his head. Tom wanted to talk but realized that in his present excited state it would be idle to make the attempt. “I don’t believe there are more than two,” continued Nelson. “If there were, one of them would be sure to be up on deck.”

“Suppose they’ll show fight?” asked Bob.

“I hope they do,” answered Nelson earnestly, “I just hope they do!”

“Well, but I don’t want any pistols flashed on me,” muttered Bob. “Get ready, Tommy. I’ll go forward and make fast. If we can sneak on board quietly and shut the doors and lock them maybe we can make terms.”