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

CHAPTER VII – “THE QUICKEST WAY OF WALKING THE PLANK”

It was Tuesday when Ted Dunstan disappeared.Now, Saturday had arrived.

On Monday the heir must appear, withhis father, in the probate court, or the greatfortune would be forever lost to the young man.

The days from Tuesday to Saturday hadbeen full of suspense and torment to thosemost interested. Horace Dunstan had lost hiseasy-going air. He started at the slightestsound; he hurried up whenever he heard otherstalking. Every new sound gave him hope thathis son was about to appear in the flesh.

Far from slow had the search been. Mr.Dunstan’s messages had brought a score of detectivesto the scene. Some of these, aided bythe local constables, had scoured the island ofNantucket unavailingly. The greater numberof the detectives, however, had operated onthe mainland, their operations extending evento Boston and New York.

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

Halstead’s notion about Farmer Sanderson’s“machinery” had crystallized into the beliefthat the cases of “machinery” received by thefarmer were in reality cases of arms and ammunition, intended to be shipped to aid some newrevolution in Honduras. Alvarez and theflorid-faced man, the latter undoubtedly a seafaringman, might justly be suspected of beingemployed in some scheme to smuggle militarysupplies to Honduras. Tom had read in thenewspapers, more than once, that filibusterssending military supplies to Central Americanrepublics label their cases of goods “machinery”in order to get past vigilant eyes unsuspected.Gregory Dunstan was known to beinterested in revolutionary movements, andFarmer Sanderson might be suspected of helpingAlvarez and other filibusters by havingarms and ammunition shipped to him as machinery, and afterwards slipped out of the countryfrom the end of the farmer’s pier on somedark, stormy night. Moreover, Gregory Dunstanand his friends were the sole ones whocould be interested in having Master Ted vanishat such a time. All parts of the theoryfitted nicely together, Tom thought, and HoraceDunstan agreed with him.

Yet anything relating to attempts by filibustersto ship arms secretly to another countryshould be brought to the notice of the UnitedStates Government. So Mr. Dunstan wrotefully to the authorities at Washington, who,so far, had not taken the pains to reply to hiscommunication.

During these days the “Meteor” had beenalmost constantly in service. Tom and Joefelt nearly used up, so incessant had been theirwork. Jed Prentiss was now aboard, for, withdetectives arriving and departing at all hours, there was frequently need of serving a visitorwith a meal while the “Meteor” dashed overthe waves to or from Nantucket. Jed was enjoyinghimself despite his long hours and hardwork. He even found time to hang about Joeand learn much about the running of themotor.

By Saturday noon Horace Dunstan, whoseemed to have aged much, gave up the notionthat his detectives could aid him at Nantucket.The last three on the island were sent over toWood’s Hole on the “Meteor,” with instructionsto help the men at work on the case onthe mainland.

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

“We’ve had a brisk four days of it,” noddedTom. “I wouldn’t mind that at all, if onlywe had gotten any nearer to finding Ted. Butall this work and nothing gained is enough towear a fellow out.”

It was a part of Tom’s nature that he feltkeenly all of his employer’s worries over themissing Ted, It worried Halstead, too, tothink of any boy hopelessly losing such a hugefortune as was at stake.

“If only we could find Alvarez, and get agood grip on him,” growled Halstead, as Joecame up on deck, “I’d feel almost warranted intorturing him until he told all he knew.”

Joe nodded gravely, then suddenly grinned.

“I can imagine anyone as big-hearted as youare, Tom, putting any human being to the torture.”

“I said I’d almost be willing to” insistedTom.

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

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

Jed began to whistle sympathetically. He, too, would have given worlds to be able topounce upon the vanished Ted. For youngPrentiss was all loyalty. Having entered theDunstan employ, he felt all the sorrows of thefamily. The more he thought about the affairthe more restless the whistling boy became.

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

“Until the late afternoon train gets in fromBoston,” Tom answered, listlessly. “Mr. Dunstanis expecting Mr. Crane, his lawyer, along.If Mr. Crane doesn’t arrive we’ve got to comeover again to-morrow morning.”

Jed glanced at the clock before the steeringwheel.

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

“None at all,” Halstead replied, “if you’reback on time.”

Jed was over the rail in no time, whistling ashe went. A few minutes later Tom Halsteadfound himself bored by this inactive waiting, and so, as Joe had some cleaning to do on theengine, the young skipper decided to take astroll ashore.

In the village all looked so decidedly dull, this hot July afternoon, that Tom walked onthrough and beyond the little place. After hehad gone the better part of a mile he seatedhimself on a tumble-down bit of stone wall betweentwo big trees. It was cool here, andshady. The drone of insects soon made theboy feel drowsy.

“Here, there mustn’t be any of this,” mutteredHalstead, shaking himself awake. “Imustn’t fail to get back to the boat on time.”

After that he was wide awake. But thegreen, the quiet and the cool air made the youngcaptain feel that he did not care to leave thisspot until it was necessary. For perhaps fifteenminutes more he sat chewing at a wisp ofgrass and thinking – always of the missingheir.

Then the sound of a short little cough madehim look up. Some one was coming along theroad. That some one came in sight. Almostchoking with astonishment, Halstead wentbackward over the wall. It looked as thoughhe had fallen, but it was all part of his franticwish to get out of sight.

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

The man was coming nearer, walking at asteady though not rapid gait. Tom huggedhimself as close to the ground as he could, peeringbetween two stones in the wall. For aninstant, as the other went by, Halstead had agood glimpse of the fellow. Where Alvarezhad but a moustache, this man had a full blackbeard. Gone were the brown striped trousers, for this man wore a blue serge suit. But theface was swarthy; there was the same gleamin the dark eyes. Even the way of holdingthe fuming little cigarette was the same.

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

On swift second thought the excited boychanged his mind. It might serve a far biggerpurpose to follow this swarthy little rascal, ifhe could do so undetected.

Alvarez, apparently, wasn’t suspicions of beingtrailed, for he kept steadily on. Halsteadfollowed on the other side of the wall, ready todrop out of sight at the first sign of the other’sturning. When the wall ended the boy foundother shelter, and followed on. It was but ashort chase. A quarter of a mile further onthe Spaniard left the road, pushing his waythrough the bushes and undergrowth of a patchof woods until he came to a small, almost hiddencove. And in this cove, her stern withinstepping distance of the land, lay a yellow-hulledsteam launch.

Tom sank low behind the bushes, and peeredthrough. He could see all that followed.

“Pedro!” called Alvarez, softly.

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

Pedro hurried to the stern. Some talk betweenthe two followed, but in tones so low thatHalstead could understand not a word of it, until the Spaniard, half turning away, finishedby saying:

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

The negro nodded heavily as the Spaniardstarted away. But this time Tom Halsteadmade no effort to follow the swarthy one. Ifthe Spaniard was to return, that would not benecessary.

“I wonder how fast I can return to Nantucket, and then be ready to chase this craft when sheshows her nose outside?” wondered the boy.“For it’s five to one this launch will make forAlvarez’s hiding-place, and that is where TedDunstan is to be found. Yet – confound it all! – ifI give chase in the ‘Meteor,’ Alvarez certainlywon’t lead us to the place.”

It was a puzzling, an immense problem. Andwhatever was to be done must be decided uponinstantly. While Halstead still pondered, acheering sound came to his ears. “Whirr-ugh!Whirr-ugh!” The negro, in his former seatat the bow of the launch had proved his watchfulnessby going sound asleep and snoring!

“Oh! If I could only get through to Alvarez’shiding-place on this boat!” thought Tomwildly, his breath coming hard and fast. Notime was to be wasted in doing nothing. Assuringhimself that the negro was still soundlyasleep, Halstead stepped forward, cat-footed.

Still the black guardian of the boat slumbered.Tom, as he reached the water’s edge, prayed that nothing would disturb the fellow’ssleep. The launch was not a cabin affair, butthere was a covered deck at the bow, and, underit, a hatchway leading into a little cubby.As the negro sat sleeping, his legs crossedsquarely before the entrance to that cubby.Then Halstead edged around until he made surethat there was another little cubby under thestern-sheets of the launch.

“If I could only get in there and hide!”breathed the young skipper, fervently. Hardlyhad he formed the wish when he steppedstealthily to the boat. His eyes watchfully onthe negro, Tom gained the stern hatch. He bentdown before it to inspect the space beyond.The space in there was small, and much of ittaken up by the propeller shaft boxing. Itlooked like taking a desperate chance to tryto fold himself up in that tiny space.

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

Another glance at the snoring negro, andTom Halstead stealthily worked his feet inthrough the hatchway. His body followed. Hetwisted and wriggled until he had got himselfas far back into the limited space as was possible.His head was where he could gaze out intothe cockpit of the launch.

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

Then he had a wait of many minutes, thoughat last the hail of Alvarez was heard from theshore. It took a second call to rouse the sleepingPedro.

“Now, quick out of this,” ordered the Spaniard.“Get up the anchor. Then take yourplace by the engine.”

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

“Neither one has seen me in here,” thoughtTom, tensely. “Oh, what huge luck if they gothrough the trip without seeing me!”

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

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

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

“In this disguise I would hardly be afraidto walk about in Nantucket,” continued SeñorAlvarez. “I doubt if any of my enemies wouldrecognize me. They – ”

Alvarez’s lips shut suddenly with a snap.While he was speaking he had been lookingastern. Tom Halstead now squirmed as he sawthe Spaniard’s startled gaze fixed directly onhim.

“Pedro!” shouted the swarthy one. “Looksharp, man. There’s some one in that cubbyastern!”

Alvarez had started himself to leave the wheel.Then, realizing that the boat would run wildwithout some one at the helm, he pointed dramatically.

Though Halstead had trusted to the darknessand the shadow in that cubby, the discovery thathe dreaded had happened. Not willing to becaught in there, like a fox in a trap, he made alively scramble to get out. He was on his feetin the cockpit by the time that Pedro, staringas though at a ghost, leaped up and faced him.

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

As Halstead scrambled out he had looked forsome object with which to defend himself.There was nothing at hand. He was obligedto face his bigger assailant with nothing but hisfists.

“Keep off!” warned Halstead, throwing uphis guard.

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

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

Pedro responded swiftly, stopping the speed, then reversing the engine briefly. The launchwas brought to, almost stationary, close tothe place where Tom Halstead had fallenoverboard.

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

But, though both remained at the rail forsome time, peering down into the water, TomHalstead did not reappear.

“Fo’ goodness’ sake,” chattered the blackman soberly, “dat boy done sink, fo’ shuah. Heain’t gwine come back, boss.”

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

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

CHAPTER VIII – TOM DISCOVERS THE HEIR

Tom Halstead wasn’t drowned – notquite. The wicked seldom find safetyin believing that their evil work hascome out in the way that will most benefit them.We shall presently see what did happen to Tom.

Although he tried to pretend that he was notaffected by the tragedy that he believed had justbeen enacted, Señor Alvarez, when he returnedto his seat by the wheel, did not at once call forspeed ahead. Instead he rolled a fresh cigarettewith trembling fingers, spilling so much ofthe tobacco that he had to make a fresh start.When, at last, he had the thing lighted and hadtaken a couple of whiffs, he turned to the blackman to ask:

“After all, Pedro, what difference can itmake if the meddling boy chose the ocean to ourcompany? Am I not a gentleman of Honduras,Don Emilio Alvarez? Am I not descended fromSpanish grandees? Why should I bother myhead because one of the American riff-raff hasgone overboard!”

“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!