Harry Brackett reached for the line with which the car was moored, and drew the car in to shore. Then, taking from his pocket a ring on which several keys dangled, he proceeded to try them, one by one, in the padlock of one of the trap-doors. A certain key finally answered his purpose, and the next moment Mr. Carleton saw the door lifted. Harry Brackett, using a short-handled net, lifted out half a dozen lobsters, dropped them into his boat, and, relocking the trap-door, got into his boat, and started to row away.
But he nearly fell over in his seat with fright, when the sound of laughter close on shore greeted him. The next moment, Mr. Carleton stepped into view.
“Ha! ha!” laughed Mr. Carleton. “Oh, you’re a sly dog. I see what you’re up to. Little bake going on among some of you island chaps, eh? No reason why our friends should not contribute something to the fun. Oh, I’ve been a boy, myself. Look out they don’t catch you, though. Heavy fine, you know, for that sort of thing.”
Harry Brackett, terrified, rowed ashore to where Mr. Carleton was standing. He must explain. He had no idea of stealing the lobsters—which was met with derisive laughter from Mr. Carleton, and the assurance that he was a bold young chap.
From which effort at dissimulation, Harry Brackett came, at length, to beg and implore Mr. Carleton that he would say nothing about it.
Now, if Mr. Carleton had had any notion that young Harry Brackett might at some time be useful to him, he certainly went about the manner of gaining an ascendency over him most admirably. For didn’t Mr. Carleton promise that he would say nothing about the affair? And didn’t he feign to treat it as a huge joke? He certainly did. But how cunningly, also, in all his making light of it, did he convey to young Harry Brackett’s mind the fact that he knew it was a criminal thing; and that it would meet with heavy punishment, if discovered. And how cunningly did he play upon first the one, and then the other idea; the idea of a practical joke, and the idea of the penalty for it, if it should be known; until young Harry Brackett would gladly have promised to do anything in all the world that Mr. Carleton might ask, to buy his silence.
“Then you won’t let on about it?” urged Harry Brackett, apprehensively, for the tenth time or more, as he started to row away.
“Never a word from me,” said Mr. Carleton. “Ho, you rascal—I’ve been a youngster, too. But you’re taking pretty big chances of getting into trouble. Look out for yourself. Ho! ho!”
“I’ll never take another chance like it,” whined Harry Brackett.
For the remainder of Mr. Carleton’s stay on the island, there was one more youth that avoided him now, though for a different reason than that of the others. This was young Harry Brackett. He was ashamed to look Mr. Carleton in the face. Perhaps, on the other hand, it was rather Mr. Carleton who avoided meeting the young yachtsman. And perhaps he, too, was ashamed of what he had done.