Dave Porter in the South Seas: or, The Strange Cruise of the Stormy Petrel

CHAPTER XI
A FIGHT AND ITS RESULT

"Dave, if you fight, and Doctor Clay hears of it, you'll get into trouble," whispered Roger. "You know what his rules are."

"I am not going to fight, but I'll defend myself," was the calm answer.

"Maybe you're afraid to fight," sneered Nat Poole, who stood close by.

Before the country youth could answer, Gus Plum sprang forward and aimed another blow at Dave's face. Dave ducked, but was not quite quick enough, and the fist of his enemy landed on his ear.

This aroused the boy from Crumville as never before. The look on the bully's face was such as to nerve him to do his best, and, casting prudence to the winds, he "sailed in" with a vigor that astonished all who beheld it. One fist landed on Plum's nose and the other on the bully's chin, and down he went in a heap against the boathouse.

"Have you had enough?" demanded Dave, his eyes fairly flashing.

"No!" roared the bully, and scrambling up, he rushed at Dave, and the pair clenched. Around and around the little dock they wrestled, first one getting a slight advantage and then the other.

"Break away!" cried some of the students. "Break away!"

"I'll break, if he'll break!" panted Dave. Plum said nothing, for he was doing his best to get the country boy's head in chancery, as it is termed; that is, under his arm, where he might pummel it to his satisfaction.

But Dave was on his guard, and was not to be easily caught. He knew a trick or two, and, watching his opportunity, led Plum to believe that he was getting the better of the contest. Then, with remarkable swiftness, he made a half-turn, ducked and came up, and sent the bully flying clean and clear over his shoulder. When this happened both were close to the edge of the dock, and, with a cry and a splash, Gus Plum went over into the river.

"Gracious! did you see that fling!"

"Threw him right over his head into the river!"

"The fellow who tackles Dave Porter has his hands full every time!"

So the comments ran on. In the meantime Dave stood quietly on the edge of the dock, watching for the bully, and trying to regain his breath.

Plum had disappeared close to the edge of the dock, and all the bystanders expected him to reappear almost immediately. But, to their surprise, he did not show himself.

"Where is he? Why doesn't he come up?"

"He must be playing a trick on Porter. Maybe he is under the dock."

"No, he can't get under the dock. It is all boarded up."

"He must have struck his head on something, or got a cramp, being so heated up."

Dave continued to wait, and as his enemy did not come to light, a cold chill ran over him. What if Plum was really hurt, or in trouble under water? He knew that the bully was not the best of swimmers.

"There he is!" came in a shout from one of the boys, and he pointed out into the stream, to where Gus Plum's body was floating along, face downward.

Dave gave one look and his heart seemed to leap into his throat. By the side of the dock was a rowboat, with the oars across the seats. He made a bound for it.

"Come," he said, motioning to Roger, and the senator's son followed him into the craft. They shoved off with vigor, and Dave took up the oars. Then another boat put off, containing Poole and two other students.

A few strokes sufficed to bring the first rowboat up alongside of the form of the bully. Plum had turned partly over and was on the point of sinking again, when Roger reached out and caught him by the foot. Then Dave swung the rowboat around, and after a little trouble the two got the soaked one aboard.

Gus Plum was partly unconscious, and a bruise on his left temple showed where his head had struck some portion of the dock in falling. As they placed him across the seats of the rowboat, he gasped, spluttered, and attempted to sit up.

"Better keep still," said Dave, kindly. "We don't want the boat to go over."

"Where am I? Oh, I know now! You knocked me over."

"Don't talk, Plum; wait till we get back to shore," warned Roger.

A few strokes took the boat back to the dock, and Dave and Roger assisted the dripping youth to land. Gus Plum was so weak he had to sit down on a bench to recover.

"You played me a mean trick," he spluttered, at last. "A mean trick!"

"That's what he did," put in Nat Poole, who had also returned to the dock. "I guess he was afraid to fight fair."

"I suppose you wanted to drown me," went on the bully of Oak Hall.

"I didn't want to drown you, Plum – I didn't even want to push you overboard. I didn't think we were so close to the dock's edge."

"Humph! It's easy enough to talk!" Gus Plum gazed ruefully at his somewhat loud summer suit. "Look at my clothes. They are just about ruined!"

"Nonsense," came from Roger. "They need drying, cleaning, and pressing, that's all. You can get the job done down in Oakdale for a dollar and a half."

"And who is going to pay the bill?"

"Well, if you are too poor to do it, I'll do so," answered Roger.

This reply made the bully grow very red, and he shook his fist at the senator's son.

"None of your insinuations!" he roared. "I am not poor, and I want you to know it. My father may have lost some money, but he can still buy and sell your father. And as for such a poorhouse nobody as your intimate friend there, Porter – "

"For shame, Plum!" cried several.

"Oh, go ahead and toady to him, if you want to. I shan't stop you. But I'd rather pick my company."

"And so would I," added Nat Poole. "I once heard of a poorhouse boy who was the son of a thief. I'd not want to train with a fellow of that sort."

Dave listened to the words, and they seemed to burn into his very heart. He came forward with a face as white as death itself.

"Nat Poole, do you mean to insinuate that I am the son of a thief?" he demanded.

"Oh, a fellow don't know what to think," replied the Crumville aristocrat, with a sneer.

"Then take that for your opinion."

It was a telling blow, delivered with a passion that Dave could not control. It took Nat Poole squarely in the mouth, and the aristocrat went down with a thud, flat on his back. His lip was cut and two of his teeth were loosened, while the country's boy's fist showed a skinned knuckle.

"Whoop! did you see that!"

"My! what a sledge-hammer blow!"

"Poole is knocked out clean!"

Such were some of the comments, in the midst of which Nat Poole sat up, dazed and bewildered. Then he gasped, and ejected some blood from his mouth.

"You – you – " he began.

"Stay where you are, Nat Poole," said Dave, in a voice that was as cold as ice. "Don't you dare to budge!"

"Wha-what?"

"Don't you dare to budge until you have begged my pardon."

"Me? Beg your pardon! I'd like to see myself!"

"Well, that is just what you are going to do! If you don't, do you know what I'll do? I'll throw you into the river and keep you there until you do as I say."

"Here, you let him alone!" blustered Plum, starting to rise.

"Keep out of this, Plum, or, as sure as I'm standing here, I'll throw you in again, too!" said Dave.

"Dave – " whispered Roger. He could see that his friend was almost beside himself with passion.

"No, Roger, don't try to interfere. This is my battle. They have been talking behind my back long enough. Poole has got to apologize, or take the consequences, and so has Plum. I'll make them do it, if I have to fight them both!" And the eyes of the country boy blazed with a fire that the senator's son had never before seen in them. "I don't deny that I came from the poorhouse, and I don't deny that I know nothing of my past," went on Dave, speaking to the crowd. "But I am trying to do the fair thing, every boy here knows it, and – and – "

"We are with you, Dave!" came from the rear of the crowd, and Luke Watson pushed his way to the front, followed by Phil, Shadow, and Buster Beggs.

"Dave Porter is one of the best fellows in this school," cried Phil.

"And Plum and Poole are a couple of codfish," added Buster.

"I – I – am a codfish, am I?" roared Plum.

"You are, Gus Plum. You say things behind folks' backs and try to bully the little boys, and in reality you are no better than anybody else, if as good. You make me sick."

"I'll – I'll hammer you good for that!"

"All right, send me word when you are ready," retorted Buster.

In the meantime Dave was still standing over Nat Poole. Suddenly he caught the aristocratic youth by the ear and gave that member a twist.

"Ouch! Let go!" yelled Nat Poole. "Let go! Don't wring my ear off!"

"Will you apologize?" demanded Dave, and gave the ear a jerk that brought tears to Poole's eyes.

"I – I – oh, you'll have my ear off next! Oh, you wait – oh! oh! If I ever get —ouch!"

"Say you are sorry you said what you did to me," went on Dave, "or into the river you go!" And despite Poole's efforts, he dragged the aristocrat toward the edge of the dock.

"No! no! Oh, I say, Porter! Oh, my ear! I don't want to go into the river! I – I – I take it back – I guess I made a mistake. Oh, let me go!"

"You apologize, then?"

"Yes."

"Then get out, and after this behave yourself," said Dave, and gave Nat Poole a fling that sent him up against the boathouse with a bang. In another instant he was by Gus Plum's side. "Now it's your turn, you overgrown bully," he continued.

"Wha-what do you mean?" stammered Plum, who had looked on the scene just enacted with a sinking heart.

"I mean you must apologize, just as Poole has done."

"And if I won't?"

"I'll thrash you till you do – no matter what the consequences are," and Dave hauled off his jacket and threw off his cap.

"Would you hit a fellow when he is – er – half drowned?" whined the bully.

"You're not half drowned – you're only scared, Plum. Now, then, will you apologize or not?" And Dave doubled up his fists.

"I – I don't have to. I – I —oh!"

The words on Plum's lips came to a sudden end, for at that instant the country boy caught him by the throat and banged his head up against the boathouse side.

"Now apologize, and be quick about it," said Dave, determinedly.

"Oh, my head! You have cracked my skull! I'll – I'll have the law on you!"

"Very well, I'm willing. But you must apologize first!" And Plum's head came into contact with the boathouse side again, and he saw stars.

"Oh! Let up – stop, Porter! Don't kill me! I – I – take it back! I – I apologize! I – I didn't mean anything! Let up, please do!" shrieked Gus Plum, and then Dave let go his hold and stepped back.

"Now, Gus Plum, listen to me," said the country boy. "Let this end it between us. If you don't, let me tell you right now that you will get the worst of it. After this, keep your distance and don't open your mouth about me. I shan't say anything to Doctor Clay about this, but if you say anything, I'll tell him all, and I know, from what he has already said, that he will stand by me."

"Maybe he doesn't know – "

"He knows everything about my past, and he has asked me to stay here, regardless of what some mean fellows like you might say about it. But I am not going to take anything from you and Poole in the future; remember that!" added Dave, and then he picked up his cap and jacket, put them on, and, followed by Phil, Roger, and a number of his other friends, walked slowly away.

CHAPTER XII
SHADOW AS A SOMNAMBULIST

The manner in which Dave had brought Gus Plum and Nat Poole to terms was the talk of Oak Hall for some time, and many of the pupils looked upon the country boy as a veritable leader and conqueror.

"I wish I had been there," said Chip Macklin to Roger. "It must have been great to see Plum and Poole eat humble pie. What do you think they'll do about it?"

"They won't do anything, just at present," answered the senator's son. "They are too scared." And in this surmise, Roger was correct.

But, though the majority of the students sided with Dave, there was a small class, made up of those who were wealthy, who passed him by and snubbed him, not wishing to associate with anybody who had come from a poorhouse. They said nothing, but their manners were enough to hurt Dave greatly, and more than once the country boy felt like packing his trunk and bidding good-by to Oak Hall forever. But then he would think of his many friends and of what kind-hearted Doctor Clay had said, and grit his teeth and declare to himself that he would fight the battle to the end, no matter what the cost.

If the story of the encounter came to the ears of the master of the school or the teachers, nothing was said about it, and, in the multitude of other events coming up, the incident was forgotten by the majority. But Dave did not forget, and neither did Plum and Poole.

"Oh, how I detest that chap!" grumbled Poole to Plum, one night when they were alone. "Gus, we must get square."

"That's right," returned the bully. "But not now. Wait till he is off his guard, then we can fix him, and do it for keeps, too!"

On the following Saturday evening Chip Macklin called Dave to one side. The young student was evidently excited over something.

"What is it, Chip?" asked Dave. "Hurry up, I can't wait long, for I want to join the fellows in the gym."

"I want to tell you something about Gus Plum," was the answer. "I think I've discovered something, but I am not sure."

"Well, out with it."

"This afternoon I got permission to ride over to Rockville on my bicycle, to get some shirts at the furnishing store there. Well, when I came out of the store, I saw Gus Plum coming out of the post-office on the opposite side of the street. He had some letters in his hand, and he turned into the little public park near by, sat down on a bench, and began to read them."

"Well, what is remarkable about that, outside of the fact that he is supposed to get all his letters in the Hall mail?" remarked Dave.

"That's just it. I made up my mind something was wrong, or else he'd have his mail come here. I saw him tear three of the envelopes to pieces and scatter the bits in the grass. When he went away, I walked over to the spot and picked up such bits of paper as I could find. Of course, you may say I was a sneak for doing it, but just look at what I found."

"I have no desire, Chip, to pry into Plum's private affairs."

"Yes, but this is not his private affair – to my way of thinking. It concerns the whole school," returned Chip Macklin, eagerly.

Dave glanced at the bits of paper, and at once became interested. One piece contained the words, "Stamp Dealer"; another, "Rare Sta – w York," and another, "Stamps Bought and Sold by Isaac Dem – nett Street, Sa – "

"These must have come from dealers in stamps," said Dave, slowly.

"That is what I thought."

"Did you ever know Gus Plum to be interested in stamps?"

"No."

"Were the letters addressed to him?"

"I don't know. Strange as it may seem, I couldn't find any of the written-on portions of the envelopes."

"Did Plum see you?"

"Not until later – when I was on my way back to the Hall."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. He acted as if he wanted to avoid me."

After this the pair talked the matter over for several minutes, but could reach no satisfactory conclusion regarding the bits of paper.

"Do as you think best, Chip," said Dave, at last. "If you want to go to Doctor Clay, I fancy he will be glad to hear what you have to say."

"Well, if Plum has those lost stamps, don't you think he should be made to return them?"

"By all means. But you've got to prove he has them first, and the doctor won't dare to say anything to Plum until he is sure of what he is doing. Otherwise, Plum's father could raise a big row, and he might even sue the doctor for defamation of character, or something like that."

A little later found Chip Macklin in the doctor's office. The small boy was rather scared, but told a fairly straight story, and turned over the bits of paper to the master of the Hall. Doctor Clay was all attention.

"I will look into this," he said. "In the meantime, Macklin, I wish you would keep it to yourself."

"I have already told Dave Porter about it. I wanted his advice."

"Then request Porter to remain quiet, also," and Chip said that he would do as asked, and later on did so.

The end of the school term was now close at hand, and Dave turned to his studies with renewed vigor, resolved to come out as near to the head of the class as possible. He received several letters from Professor Potts, Mr. Wadsworth, and a delicately scented note from Jessie, and answered them all without delay. The letter from Jessie he prized highly, and read it half a dozen times before he stowed it carefully away among his few valued possessions.

On Wednesday evening Dave partook rather freely of some hash that was served up. On the sly, Sam Day salted his portion, and, as a consequence, the country boy went to bed feeling remarkably thirsty. He drank one glass of water, and an hour later got up to drink another, only to find the water pitcher empty.

"It's no use, I've got to have a drink," he told himself. "And if I catch the fellow who salted my hash – "

He slipped into part of his clothing, and, taking the water pitcher, made his way through the hallway to the nearest of the bathrooms. Here he obtained the coldest drink possible, and then, filling the pitcher, started to return to dormitory No. 12.

As he neared the dormitory, he saw somebody pass along the other end of the hallway. It was a boy, fully dressed, and with a cap set back on his head.

"Shadow Hamilton!" he murmured, as the boy passed close to a dimly burning hall light. "Now, what is he up to?"

He put down his pitcher and stole forward, until he was directly behind Shadow. Then, of a sudden, he beheld the boy swing around and put out his hands, feeling for the rail of a rear stairs. Shadow Hamilton was fast asleep.

"He is doing some more of his sleep-walking!" thought Dave. "Now, what had I best do?"

There was no time to think long, for the sleep-walker was already descending the back stairs slowly and noiselessly. Dave hurried into the dormitory, set down the pitcher, and aroused Roger, who was nearest to him.

"Come, quick!" he whispered. "Slip on your clothes, and don't make any noise."

"Oh, I'm too sleepy for fun!" murmured Roger.

"This isn't fun, it's important. Come, I say!"

Thus aroused, the senator's son rolled from his couch and hurried into his clothing. In a few minutes both boys had their shoes and caps on, and along the hallway they sped, and down the back stairs. The door below was unlocked, but closed. Soon they were out in the rear yard of the Hall, and there they beheld Shadow Hamilton walking slowly in the direction of the boathouse.

"Who is it?" whispered Roger.

"It is Shadow. He is walking in his sleep. I want to find out where he is going and what he'll do."

"Humph! This certainly is interesting," answered the senator's son.

"Whatever you do, Roger, don't arouse him, or there may be an accident," cautioned Dave. "Let him go his own way."

"But he may hurt himself, anyway."

"No, he won't. A sleep-walker can walk a slack wire, if he tries it, and never tumble. Haven't you heard of them walking on the ridge pole of a house? I have."

"I've read about such things. And I know they say you mustn't arouse them. He is going into the boathouse!"

The chums ran forward and reached the doorway of the boathouse just as Shadow Hamilton was coming out. The somnambulist had a pair of oars, and he stepped to the edge of the dock and untied one of the boats and leaped in.

"I must find them!" they heard the youth mutter to himself. "I must find them and bring them back!"

"Did you hear that?" asked Roger. "What is he talking about?"

"That remains to be found out. Come, let us follow him," returned Dave.

They procured two pairs of oars, and were soon in another boat and pulling behind Shadow Hamilton. The boy who was asleep seemed to possess supernatural strength, and they had no easy time of it keeping up with him. His course was up the Leming River, past Robbin's Point, and then into a side stream that was rather narrow, but almost straight for a distance of two miles.

"Do you know where this stream leads to?" questioned Roger.

"I do not."

"Almost to the old castle that we visited last winter on our skates, the day we caught that robber and saved Billy Dill. The river makes half a dozen twists and turns before the castle is reached, but this is a direct route and much shorter."

"Can it be possible that Shadow is going to the old castle?" queried the country boy.

"I'm sure I don't know. We'll learn pretty soon."

As my old readers know, the place referred to was a dilapidated structure of brick and stone which had been erected about the time of the Revolutionary War. It set back in a wilderness of trees, and was given over largely to the owls and to tramps. It belonged to an unsettled estate that had gone into litigation, and there was no telling if it would ever be rebuilt and occupied in a regular way.

It was dark under the trees, but by pulling close to the boat ahead, Dave and Roger managed to keep Shadow Hamilton in sight. As soon as the somnambulist came near to the castle he ran his boat up the bank, leaped ashore, and stalked toward the building.

"He has disappeared!" cried Roger, softly.

"I see him," answered Dave. "Come!" and he led the way into the old structure and to the very rooms where the encounter with the robber and with Billy Dill had occurred.

Scarcely daring to breathe, they watched Shadow move around in an uncertain way, touching this object and that, and opening and shutting several closet doors, and even poking into the chimney-place.

"Gone! gone! gone!" they heard him mutter. "What shall I do? What shall I do?" And he gave a groan.

Five minutes passed and the sleep-walker left the castle and hurried to his boat. His course was now down the stream toward the Hall, and Dave and Roger followed, as before. At the dock the boats were tied up, the oars put away, and Shadow Hamilton went back to the room from which he had come. Peering in, Dave and Roger saw him undress and go to bed, just as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.