“He wasn’t really Sir Peter,” Mr. Tuckerman explained. “He was only plain Mr. Peter, like his neighbors in Barmouth. But he had the bad taste to side with the King of England when the colonists objected to paying taxes without being represented in the government—in other words, he was what they called a Tory—and so the people nicknamed him Sir Peter in joke. There are lots of stories I could tell you about him. I’m very much interested in history, you see.”
Tom nodded. The more he listened to this Mr. John Tuckerman the more he liked him. And yet simply to camp out on an island in the harbor, even on Cotterell’s Island, where he had never set his foot—though he had often wanted to—didn’t strike him as a very thrilling adventure.
Perhaps Mr. Tuckerman read his thought, for, lowering his voice again, he said, “There’s a mystery connected with the place; I’ve found references to it in some old family letters. And the house is full of old furniture and bric-a-brac. I can hardly wait to explore it.”
The man’s tone was undoubtedly eager, and though Tom had never felt any great interest in old furniture and such things he found his curiosity rapidly rising. An island and a house to explore—Crusty Christopher’s at that—and possibly a mystery. He might be making a great mistake if he let this adventure escape.
Mr. Tuckerman was speaking again. “I might as well explain at once that I’m a dreadful landlubber. I don’t know anything about sailing boats, and not very much about fishing. I’m afraid my education has been very much neglected along certain lines. I want to camp on that island, and I want company. Do you know how to cook—to cook the sort of things campers eat, I mean?”
“I can cook some things. But my friend David Norton can cook almost anything. He’s one of the fellows I meant.”
“It would be splendid if we could get David, too. I’d take along plenty of provisions, but one does get tired of living on canned things.”
“Ben Sully’s a corking fisherman,” said Tom. “Ben and David and I have camped out a lot together.”
“I’d like to keep the expedition as quiet as I can,” Mr. Tuckerman stated. “I don’t want a lot of curiosity-seekers poking round the island.”
“I think you’re right,” agreed Tom. “I’ll swear both of them to secrecy; except to their families, of course. You wouldn’t mind our telling our parents?”