CHAPTER X—OVERHAULING THE MYSTERY
“And now,” demanded Lawyer Crane, in his calm, heavy voice, “may I ask what all this chaos and confusion is about?”
“In just a minute or two, sir, I’ll be hugely delighted to have you listen,” Halstead answered. “But I want to get out of this cove and clear of coast shoals and ledges first.”
Joe had already begun to make the engine “kick” somewhat, and the boat was moving fast, leaving behind her a graceful swirl of water. Jed, after coiling the stern-line, had come forward, and, though he asked no questions, that youth was whistling a ditty of fast movement, the surest sign of all that he shared in the unknown excitement.
“There she is!” cried Halstead, suddenly, taking his right hand from the wheel to point out over the water.
“She?” repeated Mr. Crane. “Who?”
“That boat! Don’t you see the steam launch with the yellow hull?”
The launch was some two or more miles away, heading over the waters in a direction that would carry her past the northern end of Martha’s Vineyard. Mr. Crane adjusted his glasses, staring hard. At last he made out the low-lying hull.
“I see some sort of a craft out there,” he replied slowly. “But I must congratulate you on having very good eyes, Captain Halstead, if you can make out the fact that she is painted yellow. However, what have we to do with that boat?”
“We’re going after her,” responded Tom, briefly. He was wondering just how to begin the wonderful story of his late adventure.
“Going after her?” repeated Mr. Crane, in slow astonishment. “Why, I was under the impression that your present task related to carrying me over to Mr. Dunstan’s home.”
“That comes next,” replied Tom. “Mr. Crane, hardly twenty minutes ago I was aboard yonder boat, and was talking with Master Ted Dunstan.”
The lawyer gasped, then rejoined, slowly:
“That’s a most remarkable statement, to say the least.”
But Joe Dawson and Jed Prentiss, who knew Halstead better, were staring at him with eyes wide 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 great surplus of water out of them, but they were still undeniably more than damp.
“That was all part of the experience,” Halstead answered, annoyed by the impression that the lawyer thought him trying to spin a mere sailor’s yarn. “Do you care to hear what happened, sir?”
“Why, yes, assuredly, captain.”
Tom reeled the story off rapidly. The lawyer gasped once or twice, but certainly the young skipper’s wet clothing gave much of an appearance of truth to the “yarn.”
“And now, sir, what do you think of Master Ted’s claim that he was having the time of his life, 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 shall be much interested in hearing what Mr. Dunstan has to say about it all.”
“Say, that’s queer,” broke in Joe, suddenly, staring hard at the launch, now not much more than half a mile distant.
“What is?” asked Halstead, who had kept his mind on what he was telling the lawyer.
“That launch is following an almost straight course. 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 staring the harder.
“It will certainly complicate the adventure,” commented Lawyer Crane, “if we overhaul a craft navigated by unseen hands.”
Halstead didn’t say any more. He didn’t like the half-skepticism of the legal gentleman. The young skipper held straight on until they were astern of the yellow-hulled launch and coming 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 up close. See if you can spot anyone hiding in the boat.”
“Look out,” cautioned Joe Dawson, dryly, as Jed Prentiss started to obey. “Someone on the other craft may open fire.”
Jed halted, rather uneasily, at that sinister suggestion. Then, meeting Tom’s firm glance, the boy got well forward and stood up, while Joe dropped down into the engine room to meet any order that might come about stopping speed.
“I hardly fancy anyone aboard that boat would dare threaten us with firearms,” said the lawyer, slowly. “There are too many witnesses here to risk such a serious breach of the law.”
“Mm!” chuckled Captain Tom grimly, to himself. “I wonder if this learned gentleman imagines that everyone has the wholesome respect for the law that possesses him?”
He leaned forward, to reach the bell-grip, steering, after the “Meteor’s” headway had been all but stopped, so that they would pass within a dozen feet of this mysterious craft.
“Say,” hailed back Jed, “I don’t believe there’s a soul on board that craft. I can see the bottom of the inside of the boat.”
“Get the boat-hook, then,” ordered Halstead. “We’ll lay alongside and make sure that she’s deserted.”
Jed jumped down nimbly. Apparently he was glad to provide himself with so handy a weapon as the boat-hook. With this he stepped out forward again. Tom ran the Meteor in until the two craft almost bumped.
“Ugh!” grunted Jed. “It looks almost uncanny to see that engine pumping right along with no sign of human care.”
Gradually he drew the bow of the moving launch closer.
“Go aboard,” directed Tom.
Jed stood up high on his toes, to take a last careful look. Then he leaped to the other craft, bounding down into her cockpit. There he stood still for a few moments, tightly gripping the boat-hook in an exaggerated attitude of defence.
“Are you afraid?” hailed Halstead.
“Well,” admitted Jed, candidly, “I’ve no notion for being pounced on or shot from ambush.”
“That would have happened already, if it was going to,” Tom rejoined with a smile. “Stop the engine, and then we’ll make fast and all come on board.”
That Jed accomplished with one hand, while Joe 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 skipper followed into the launch. A quick search made it plain that there was no human being in either the forward or after cubby.
“The wheel was spiked,” discovered Tom. “You see, the boat was started on her course and then her spiked wheel held her rather close to it. Whoever was aboard, after having fixed wheel and engine, got off. This was done to fool 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 an opinion, but thought better of it and closed his lips.
“Mr. Crane,” asked Tom, after a few moments, “what are our rights? We can take this abandoned boat in tow, can’t we, and take her over to Mr. Dunstan’s pier?”
“Clearly,” assented the lawyer, slowly. “And there’s a right to salvage if the owner of this derelict appears and claims the boat.”
Tom clambered back aboard the “Meteor,” and, going aft, threw a line to Jed, who made fast around a butt at the bow of the launch. Then Jed came back.
“Now, Mr. Crane,” smiled Captain Tom, “we are again at your orders. Unless you think of something better, we can keep on to Nantucket.”
“Decidedly,” replied the lawyer. “We must acquaint Mr. Dunstan with this whole prepos—unaccountable story.”
As soon as the “Meteor” was well under way, on her homeward course, Halstead called down:
“Joe, I’ve stood this drenched clothing as long as I think is good for me in this sea wind. Take the wheel, please, and I’ll go below and get a rub and some dry clothing.”
“I’m going down with you,” broke in Jed. “There’s hot water, and you ought to have some coffee.”
Jed even helped vigorously in the rub-down. Tom’s teeth were chattering at the outset, but the friction warmed his blood. He put on dry clothing, of which he had enough aboard. And now Jed came out of the galley with a cup of steaming coffee.
“Say, Jed, what made you look so skittish when you boarded that other boat?” asked the young skipper, smiling. “Were you really afraid?”
“Afraid?” repeated Jed, looking sheepish. “Well, Tom, I’ll tell you how it is. When there’s no danger near, and I’m thinking over brave deeds, I’m a regular hero, and no mistake. But when I get right down where I think some one may be a going to open on me with both barrels of a shotgun, then I get—well, I won’t say afraid, but tormentingly nervous!”
Halstead laughed heartily.
“I guess that’s the way with the whole human race, Jed. The man who lugs off the reputation for being brave is the man who won’t run, because he is ashamed to let anyone see how mortally afraid he is.”
“But what do you make of Ted Dunstan’s queer talk?” asked Jed Prentiss. “Do you believe his father really did give him orders to go off with that crowd?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Halstead answered. “Mr. Dunstan is our employer.”
“But young Ted always has been a mighty truthful boy,” pursued Jed, wonderingly. “Oh, it’s all mighty queer, whatever’s the truth.”
“I guess we’d better let it go at that last statement,” proposed Tom; “at least, until we’ve heard what Mr. Dunstan has to say.”
With three or four caps of coffee down, Halstead felt so much warmer that he returned to deck to take the wheel. The “Meteor” was necessarily going much more slowly than usual, with her tow astern. The trip was bound to be such a long one that Jed started things in the galley, then went back through the passageway to the cabin, where he set the folding table with a white cloth. When Lawyer Crane seated himself at supper he was astonished to find how excellent a meal could be prepared in short time aboard this craft.
It was nearing dark when Captain Halstead guided the “Meteor” in toward the Dunstan pier.
While the boat was being made fast by Joe and Jed, Mr. Crane stepped hurriedly ashore.
“Come along, Captain Halstead,” said the man of law. “Mr. Dunstan must hear your remarkable story without a moment’s delay.”