CHAPTER XVI
[The House of Many Clocks]
It hardly deserved the name of wharf, for it was merely two planks supported on poles sunk in the sand, with a home-made ladder descending to the water. A rusty chain and padlock hung from one of the poles. The Corsair stopped its sober chugging and Jack guided it up to the ladder. The wharf jutted out some six feet from the bank into what was practically a tiny basin. Beyond it the stream narrowed again and went twisting off out of sight behind low banks covered with grasses and rushes. Just at the turn a few cattails showed that the little basin was probably the limit of tide-water and that beyond the stream was fresh. The boys made fast the launch and quietly climbed the ladder to the rickety landing. There was an old anchor up there and a battered tin can showing the remains of one or two defunct clams. A dozen feet from the bank stood the cabin, a small affair of drift-wood and old lumber, with a sagging door half open on its leather hinges, one small window and a roof variously covered with pieces of tin, sheet iron and tarred paper, from which a foot or so of stove pipe protruded. A few feet distant at the left was a still smaller structure, half hen-house and half shed. A few thin, wiry looking hens and a ridiculously long-legged rooster scratched about in the dirt outside. The shed open in front, held a motley collection of broken lobster-pots, spars, rigging and canvas. There was a chopping block there, with a hatchet sticking into it, and a pile of wood broken into stove lengths was stored in a corner. Between wharf and house lay a litter of planks, a lobster-pot, a rotting fish-net draped over a carpenter’s horse, a number of cork floats, some empty tin cans, a pot of blue paint and a paint brush and, supported between the lobster-pot and the carpenter’s horse, a pair of oars, painted blue and still sticky to the touch.
“There they are!” exclaimed Hal triumphantly. “What did I tell you? He’s gone and painted them blue!”
“Hm,” said Jack, “It would be pretty hard to identify them, wouldn’t it?”
“They’re just the same length and everything,” asserted Hal stoutly. “Of course they’re mine!”
“They’re yours if you say so and they’re his if he says so,” said Bee judicially. “I guess he’s got ahead of us here, Hal. I don’t believe we’d have any right to take them. We never could prove they were the oars that were stolen from us.”
“But—but—” began Hal excitedly.
“Let’s just look around a bit,” said Jack, “and see if we can find anything else that belongs to you. We’d better not waste too much time, either. It’s probable, Honest William is off for the day, but there’s no telling.” He pushed open the door and stepped inside the cabin and the others followed. It was so dark in there that for a moment they could see nothing clearly and while they waited to accustom their eyes to the gloom there was a sudden clamor that sent their hearts into their throats and sent them tumbling over each other’s back through the doorway.
Ding-ding, ding-ding, ding! Dong-dong, dong-dong, dong! Tink-tink, tink-tink, tink! Ding-dang, ding-dang, ding!