A Sailor in Spite of Himself

by Harry Castlemon

Gus started back and gazed at the old man in great amazement. Was the latter able to read the thoughts that were passing in his mind? It certainly looked like it. He had heard that men, even landsmen who knew nothing of the ways of the world, had been kidnapped and shipped off to sea to fill up a crew that could not be completed by voluntary enlistment, and it had occurred to him that that would be a good way to rid himself of the presence of his cousin, if he could only find some one to undertake the task. Knowing the deadly enmity that Barlow cherished toward Captain Nellis, Gus had visited him on purpose to ascertain whether or not he was ripe for such a scheme, and was delighted to know that he had found a willing tool—so willing, indeed, that he himself need have nothing to do with the matter. All he had to do was to remain in the background, and Barlow would do all the work and run all the risk.

This was a highly encouraging state of affairs, and Gus would have felt perfectly at his ease had it not been for the hints Barlow had thrown out in connection with Mr. Nellis's disappearance. Gus turned the conversation back to this subject as soon as he could, but all he learned was that one morning, following a remarkably stormy night, Mr. Nellis's boat had been found on the reefs with a hole knocked in her, and the supposition was that her owner had been out on one of his fishing excursions and had been caught in the storm and drowned. At any rate, he was never seen or heard of afterward. This was no news to Gus, for he had heard it long ago. He wanted to know what Barlow had seen on that stormy morning, but on this subject the old man refused to talk. It was none of his business, he said, and with that the boy was obliged to be contented.

Gus left the sailors' boarding-house heartily wishing that he had never gone near it. He had felt sure of his position before, but he did not feel so now. His uncle had been treacherously dealt with, that was plain, but instead of being safely out of the way was likely to make his appearance at any moment. He could not be far away, either, for Barlow had confidently assured him that he would be certain to turn up, and that, too, before he was wanted. Then what would happen? Gus trembled when he thought of it.

"Father had a hand in it," said he, as he climbed into the buggy. "I can now account for that wild look in his eye, and understand what he meant when he said that after all he had done and dared for me I ought to treat him with more respect. I declare it is the worst thing I ever heard of. If I am to be a party to this business I ought to know just what has happened, so that I can be prepared for any emergency."

But this was something Gus never found out. He visited Barlow a dozen times during the next two days, but could gain nothing further from him. He had several interviews with his father, during which he hinted so broadly at what he had heard that Mr. Layton exhibited the same signs of alarm he had shown when his son first came home; but he volunteered no information, and Gus dared not ask for it. These things made such an impression on him that on the morning of the day Bob was expected home from Elmwood Gus had all his luggage removed to the rooms in the south wing that had been prepared for him, and saw that everything was arranged in his cousin's room just as he had found it. As matters now stood Bob's star was in the ascendant, and Gus did not think it would be policy to begin an open warfare with him. But he did not for an instant lose sight of what had for the last few months been the main object of his life.

After Gus left the academy affairs went on in much the usual way. True, there was less wrangling and quarrelling among the students, and such fellows as Simpson and Scotty were obliged to keep themselves altogether in the background. The "cut-oar matter," as the boys called it, was thoroughly investigated, and every one who was in any way mixed up with it, and there proved to be at least a score of them, was sent to coventry without ceremony. The culprits at first assumed an independent attitude, and tried to show themselves as indifferent to the students as the latter were to them; but this plan did not succeed very well, and in their hearts they wished they had had nothing to do with Gus Layton and his attempted fraud.

Examination week ended and the closing exercises over, the students began to separate to their homes, all of them apparently light-hearted and joyous, and speaking confidently of meeting again at the beginning of the next school-year. Bob Nellis was melancholy and low-spirited. As far as he knew, he had no home to go to. There was no kind father waiting to receive him and tell him that he was satisfied with his conduct at school and of the progress he had made there. He was going among those who were almost strangers to him, and who he knew had no interest in him. He took a sorrowful leave of the school and of his mates, and with Sprague for a companion—he lived in the same village that Bob did—set out for home. As long as he remained in sight of the familiar buildings he kept looking back at them as if he never expected to see them again. He did go back to them, however, and prepared for college there; but he first passed through some adventures the like of which he had never dreamed of.

"Now, Bob, I want you to tell me what is the matter with you," said Sprague, laying his hand affectionately on his companion's shoulder. "Ever since your uncle countermanded your order for that new shell you haven't acted at all like yourself. Do you think your uncle has gone back on you?"

"I know it," said Bob. "But, Sprague, you will excuse me for not saying too much. When I get home I shall know just how the land lays. I may be wrong, but that's the way things look now."

"Only just one question more and then I'll drop the matter," said Sprague, earnestly. "I heard before I came here that your father used to be worth a lot of money. Has your uncle got hold of it?"