The Motor Boat Club at Nantucket: or, The Mystery of the Dunstan Heir

“Dat’s a fac’, boss. Why should yo’ botheryo’ haid?” responded Pedro, though he did notsay it very heartily.

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

“Pedro,” he called, pointing, “that sloop carriesthe red jack fluttering from her bowsprittip. That, then, is our boat.”

“Fo’ shuah, boss. An’ I done hope dat Cap’nJonas French done got some good news ob dekind dat we wanter heah.”

“Give us some speed and we’ll soon be alongsidethe sloop.”

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

“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 thegentleman from Honduras. Captain French’scheeks were no longer deep red in color. Hisskin had more of a bronze hue. As such changesdo not occur naturally within a few days, it wasevident that the captain must have employedsome dye with much skill. Even the tint of hishair was changed.

“I have something to discuss with you, myfriend,” replied Don Emilio. “I will comeaboard for a while. Throw off your mainsheetand lie to, so that I can come alongside.”

Pedro slowed down the speed considerably.Don Emilio, with a skill that spoke of somepractice, ran the launch around to leeward andup under the sloop’s quarter. The two crafttouched lightly and at that instant Alvarezstepped aboard the sloop. Pedro, with his handon the starboard wheel rope, eased gently awayfrom the sailing sloop.

“Now run into the cove, Pedro,” called backDon Emilio. “Wait there until I come to you, unless danger threatens. If you see signs oftrouble, act in whatever way you may need toact.”

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

As Captain Jonas French hauled in his mainsheetand the sloop’s sail filled, Pedro madeobliquely for shore. Having no need of speed,he made less demand on the engine than he hadbeen doing.

Some time later Pedro ran halfway into alittle cove that dented the mainland of Massachusetts.Stopping the speed he stepped forwardand cast over an anchor, reeling in theslack and making fast. This done, the darkydrew out an old pipe, filled it and lighted it, settlingback for a lazy smoke.

And Tom Halstead? He was doing his bestnot to pant and betray himself, but his had beena rough experience. None but a boy as much athome in the water as on land could have stoodthe strain of this performance.

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

Just as this happened Halstead’s other handstruck a line trailing in the water. Then theboy was forced to come up for air. As he didso he heard the voices of the pair aboard overat the starboard gunwale. That gave Tom asafe chance to give the trailing rope a pull.It held, showing that it was made fast on board.

Necessity makes one think fast. To Tom thediscovery of this rope was a most unexpectedbit of good fortune. As soon as he had time toget 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 fashionwas a piece of disorderly ship’s housekeeping ofwhich an American skipper would hardly beguilty. But the sailors of the Latin races areless particular. That line might have been overthe gunwale for hours or even days, but a manlike Alvarez would give little heed to it.

When the launch went on her way again Tomhad his right arm hooked well through the loop.He floated, his feet astern along the side, thoughin no danger from rudder or propeller. Hishead, out of water, was hidden by the bulginglines of the launch’s side hull. He was not likelyto be discovered unless one of the occupants ofthe launch leaned well out and looked down.

“If only they’d run a little slower this wouldbe about as easy as lying in a soft bed,” chuckledthe young motor boat captain gleefully. Hehad grinned broadly at Don Emilio’s seemingunconcern over his fate.

“I reckon where they go I’m going too,” Halsteadtold himself with great satisfaction. Hisclothing, filled with water, would have been uncomfortable, even dangerous, had he attemptedto swim far, but as it was the launch’s enginewas doing all the work. Tom simply allowedhis rather buoyant body to be towed. None theless the speed of the towing, so greatly in excessof a swimmer’s speed, began to tell uponhis endurance. Later that cabin sloop wasbriefly in the boy’s sight. Halstead was forcedto lower his head all he could in the water, butCaptain French, having no reason to scanthe launch’s water line, did not happen to detectthe strange “tow.” As the two boatswent alongside it was the launch’s starboardbow that touched, so that Tom, at port, wasin no danger of being seen from the othercraft.

Nor was the young motor boat captain againin sight after the two craft parted. Pedro’sslower speed, making for the cove, came as ahuge relief to the “boy overboard.”

While the anchor was being dropped, Halsteadhad opportunity to see how wild and deserteda bit of nature the surroundings were.There was not a house or other sign of humanhabitation anywhere in sight.

While Pedro sat up forward, smoking, a voicesounded that thrilled Captain Tom Halsteadwith instant wonder.

“Hullo, Pedro! What a nap I must havehad.”

“Yo’ shuahly did sleep fast, chile.”

“I’m coming out, now.”

“Ef yo’ do, young boss, be kyahful,” warnedthe black man.

“Oh, there’s no one around here to see me,”contended that other voice, and now it soundedas though the owner were in the bow of thecraft.

“Ef Ah done thought Ah could trust yo’ Ah’dtuhn in in dat forrad cubby mahself,” declaredthe negro. “Ah’s powahful drowsy.”

“Go ahead, Pedro,” agreed the other speaker.“You needn’t be afraid of me. I’ll keep abright lookout.”

There was the sound of the negro stowinghimself away in the forward cubby, muchroomier than the one Tom had tried at thestern.

Halstead had heard the conversation with afeeling at first as though his brain were whirlinginside his head. The long dousing in the waterwas beginning to make itself felt in a chill, butit was not wholly this that made the young skippershake.

“That’s Ted Dunstan’s voice,” he told himself, trembling. “He’s on board this very craft.I’ve found the missing Dunstan heir.”

Soon Pedro’s snores could be heard. ThenTom Halstead hauled himself up along the ropeuntil he could just peer over the gunwale. Hislast doubt vanished; he could no longer questionhis ears, for now his glance fastened uponthe living heir of the Dunstans!

CHAPTER IX – TED HURLS A THUNDERBOLT

The youngest of the Dunstans was sittingwhere Pedro had been seated only ashort time before. Ted held a book inhis hands, his gaze fixed on one of the pages.

“He’s playing crafty,” thought Tom. “He’swaiting until he’s sure that black man is sound, sound asleep. Then he’ll make his dash forfreedom. Oh, if he only knew how close afriend is!”

“Whirr-ugh!” Pedro’s snore smote heavilyon the air.

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

Yet Tom’s teeth were threatening so persistentlyto chatter that he had to hold his jawsfirmly together for a moment before he daredattempt a slight signal.

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

“Whirr-rr-ugh!” came the noisy safety-signalfrom Pedro.

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

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

Ted Dunstan looked up now, his glance travelingswiftly astern. Then he caught sight ofthe eager face of the “Meteor’s” young skipper.At sight of the peeper’s face the Dunstanheir’s face was a study in amazement. Atfirst he just stared, as though suddenly in adaze.

“Come here!” whispered Tom ever so softly.

Ted laid his book down, shot a swift, uncertainglance at the cubby in which Pedro lay, thenrose uncertainly. Tom hauled himself up, perchinghimself on the gunwale.

“Be quick and silent about it,” whisperedTom, as Ted reached him and stood staring withall his might. “Can you swim?”

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

“If you can we’ll be ashore in a jiffy,” Halsteadresponded 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 justslip down into the water and trust yourself tome. I’ll manage it for both of us. Be quickabout it, though, for every minute counts.”

“There’s some mistake, somewhere,” pronouncedTed, a decided coldness in his tone.

“Mistake?” echoed Halstead, as though theother had struck him. “What do you mean,Ted? Don’t you remember me? I’m in chargeof your father’s motor boat. I’ve been lookingfor you for days, and now you can escape.”

“But I don’t want to escape,” declared MasterTed coolly, almost sneeringly. “Besides, there’s nothing to escape from.”

“Nothing to escape from?” echoed Tomaghast. “Why, Ted Dunstan, you simply can’tknow what you’re saying. Look how this crowdhave used you.”

“Well, then, how have they used me?” Tedchallenged coolly. “I am having the time ofmy life.”

“The time of your – Say, Ted Dunstan, have you any idea how nearly crazy your fatheris over your absence?”

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

This was uttered so candidly that Halsteadwondered if he had taken leave of his ownsenses. There could be no doubt at all thatyoung Dunstan believed every word he was uttering.

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

“Of course he does. It’s by his orders thatI am here and that I am keeping quiet. Andnow, clear out. I’ve talked to you more than isright. I know what you and your chum are – apair of slippery eels!”

“You say your father knows – You say heordered you – ” Tom went on vaguely. “TedDunstan, do you think you’re telling the truthor anything like it? And who on earth shouldyou – ”

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

“But Ted – ” persisted the dumfoundedyoung skipper.

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

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

Dazed, thunderstruck, his mind wholly befuddledby this astounding turn to the mystery,Tom Halstead did not linger. He knew too wellwhat was likely to happen to him if he fell intoPedro’s hands.

Slipping over the side, Tom cast off from therope, striking out strongly, swiftly for the shorewhich was distant not more than one hundredand 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 thecheek 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 Tedin sudden dismay and terror.

But Pedro dived back into the forward cubby.All this conversation the young motor boat captainhad heard, for it passed in no low tones.Just as Pedro reached the cubby Tom scrambledup on the beach. Before him were the deepwoods. In among the trees he plunged. Theinstant he was satisfied that he was out of sightof the launch, he turned at right angles, speedingswiftly for some hundred and fifty yards.Then he halted to listen.

“Where he done gone?” demanded Pedro, reappearing on deck, gripping a double-barreledshotgun.

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

Tom heard the murmur of the voices – nothingmore. A minute later he heard the steadychug! chug! of the launch’s steam engine asthat craft started. Then the noise ceased as thecraft got smoothly under way. But Halsteadwas up a tree, now, where he could watch.

“Heading out to sea, are you?” he chuckled, despite his great anxiety. “And in a six-mileboat. Hm! I think the ‘Meteor’ can overtakeyou and at least keep you in sight. For thatmatter, 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 wasdown on the ground, making speedily for wherehe judged the road to be. As he came in sightof the road he heard another chug! chug! thatmade his heart bound with delighted hope.

“Hi, there! Stop there, please!” shouted theyoung motor boat captain, waving his arms ashe sighted a touring car headed toward the village.

There was only the chauffeur on the front seatand an elderly man in the tonneau. The chauffeurglanced back at this other man, then sloweddown the auto.

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

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

“I hope you won’t mind my wet clothes inyour car,” hinted Tom apologetically. “I gota big drenching in the ocean and there wasneither 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. Theelderly man smiled, though he evidently wasnot curious, for he asked no further questions.Halstead sat there delightedly watching the distancefade. Even to his anxious mind the tripseemed a brief, speedy one. As the car ran inby the railway station Halstead saw thelate afternoon train slowly backing down thetrack. It had been in, then, for three or fourminutes.

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

“I’m glad I’ve been able to be of some usein the world to-day,” laughed the old gentlemanpleasantly.

But Tom, bounding across the tracks and overthe ground, hardly heard him. The young skipperhad but one thought at this moment – to getaboard and have his craft under way at theearliest possible second.

As Halstead neared the pier he saw Joe andJed seated on the deckhouse, while Mr. Crane, the Dunstan lawyer, arrived on the train, waswalking along over the boards.

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

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

“Get aboard, sir, as quickly as you can, if youplease,” requested the young skipper all butbreathlessly.

“May I inquire – ” began the lawyerslowly.

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

In his eagerness Tom almost shoved the legalgentleman over the side. Mr. Crane, not a littleastonished at the hasty procedure, looked asthough about to resent such treatment, but fortunatelychanged his mind.

Tom himself seized the bowline and threw off.He and Jed sprang aboard, fore and aft, atabout the same instant. The “Meteor’s” enginewas already chugging merrily.

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

CHAPTER X – OVERHAULING THE MYSTERY

“And now,” demanded Lawyer Crane, inhis calm, heavy voice, “may I askwhat all this chaos and confusion isabout?”

“In just a minute or two, sir, I’ll be hugelydelighted to have you listen,” Halstead answered.“But I want to get out of this coveand clear of coast shoals and ledges first.”

Joe had already begun to make the engine“kick” somewhat, and the boat was movingfast, leaving behind her a graceful swirl ofwater. Jed, after coiling the stern-line, hadcome forward, and, though he asked no questions, that youth was whistling a ditty of fastmovement, the surest sign of all that he sharedin the unknown excitement.

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

“She?” repeated Mr. Crane. “Who?”

“That boat! Don’t you see the steam launchwith the yellow hull?”

The launch was some two or more miles away, heading over the waters in a direction thatwould carry her past the northern end ofMartha’s Vineyard. Mr. Crane adjusted hisglasses, staring hard. At last he made out thelow-lying hull.

“I see some sort of a craft out there,” he repliedslowly. “But I must congratulate youon having very good eyes, Captain Halstead,if you can make out the fact that she is paintedyellow. However, what have we to do with thatboat?”

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

“Going after her?” repeated Mr. Crane, inslow astonishment. “Why, I was under theimpression that your present task related tocarrying me over to Mr. Dunstan’s home.”

“That comes next,” replied Tom. “Mr.Crane, hardly twenty minutes ago I was aboardyonder boat, and was talking with Master TedDunstan.”

The lawyer gasped, then rejoined, slowly:

“That’s a most remarkable statement, to saythe least.”

But Joe Dawson and Jed Prentiss, who knewHalstead better, were staring at him with eyeswide 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 greatsurplus of water out of them, but they werestill undeniably more than damp.

“That was all part of the experience,” Halsteadanswered, annoyed by the impressionthat the lawyer thought him trying to spin amere sailor’s yarn. “Do you care to hear whathappened, sir?”

“Why, yes, assuredly, captain.”

Tom reeled the story off rapidly. The lawyergasped once or twice, but certainly the youngskipper’s wet clothing gave much of an appearanceof truth to the “yarn.”

“And now, sir, what do you think of MasterTed’s claim that he was having the time of hislife, 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 shallbe much interested in hearing what Mr. Dunstanhas to say about it all.”

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

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

“That launch is following an almost straightcourse. 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 staringthe harder.

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

Halstead didn’t say any more. He didn’tlike the half-skepticism of the legal gentleman.The young skipper held straight on until theywere astern of the yellow-hulled launch andcoming 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 upclose. See if you can spot anyone hiding inthe boat.”

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

Jed halted, rather uneasily, at that sinistersuggestion. Then, meeting Tom’s firm glance, the boy got well forward and stood up, whileJoe dropped down into the engine room to meetany order that might come about stoppingspeed.

“I hardly fancy anyone aboard that boatwould dare threaten us with firearms,” saidthe lawyer, slowly. “There are too many witnesseshere to risk such a serious breach of thelaw.”

“Mm!” chuckled Captain Tom grimly, tohimself. “I wonder if this learned gentlemanimagines that everyone has the wholesome respectfor the law that possesses him?”

He leaned forward, to reach the bell-grip, steering, after the “Meteor’s” headway hadbeen all but stopped, so that they would passwithin a dozen feet of this mysterious craft.

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

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

Jed jumped down nimbly. Apparently hewas glad to provide himself with so handy aweapon as the boat-hook. With this he steppedout forward again. Tom ran the Meteor inuntil the two craft almost bumped.

“Ugh!” grunted Jed. “It looks almost uncannyto see that engine pumping right alongwith no sign of human care.”

Gradually he drew the bow of the movinglaunch closer.

“Go aboard,” directed Tom.

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

“Are you afraid?” hailed Halstead.

“Well,” admitted Jed, candidly, “I’ve nonotion for being pounced on or shot from ambush.”

“That would have happened already, if itwas going to,” Tom rejoined with a smile.“Stop the engine, and then we’ll make fastand all come on board.”

That Jed accomplished with one hand, whileJoe 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 skipperfollowed into the launch. A quick searchmade it plain that there was no human being ineither the forward or after cubby.

“The wheel was spiked,” discovered Tom.“You see, the boat was started on her courseand then her spiked wheel held her rather closeto it. Whoever was aboard, after having fixedwheel and engine, got off. This was done tofool 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 anopinion, but thought better of it and closedhis lips.

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

“Clearly,” assented the lawyer, slowly.“And there’s a right to salvage if theowner of this derelict appears and claimsthe boat.”

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

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

“Decidedly,” replied the lawyer. “We mustacquaint Mr. Dunstan with this whole prepos – unaccountablestory.”

As soon as the “Meteor” was well underway, on her homeward course, Halstead calleddown:

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

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

Jed even helped vigorously in the rub-down.Tom’s teeth were chattering at the outset, butthe friction warmed his blood. He put on dryclothing, of which he had enough aboard. Andnow Jed came out of the galley with a cup ofsteaming coffee.