Читать книгу The Motor Boat Club at Nantucket: or, The Mystery of the Dunstan Heir - Hancock Harrie Irving - Страница 1

“Is the ‘Meteor’ a fast boat?”

“Very fast, indeed.”

“But can she beat anything along thiscoast? That’s what I want to know.”

“Judge for yourself. On her trial trip shemade within a small fraction of twenty-eightmiles an hour.”

“Whew! That’s tremendous speed, even fora fast and costly boat such as the rich build to-day.But how long has she been in the water?”

“Since last March.”

“She may have fouled a good deal since then,or her machinery may be a good deal below themark by this time.”

“Humph! For that matter, something couldbe made to happen to the boat, I suppose.”

Of the two men carrying on this conversationin a day-coach seat on a railway train, one wasfive-foot-seven, florid and somewhat stout, witha bull neck and keen, twinkling eyes. His wholeappearance hinted that he had spent most of hisforty years of life on the open sea. The otherman, who was short, slim and swarthy, with narrow, piercing black eyes, might have been a fewyears older. His every motion betokened greatactivity. One might have guessed him to be aSpaniard. His general attire, though it wassomewhat careless, would place him in the business-manclass.

At the first mention of the name “Meteor”two American boys, seated immediately behindthe men, started slightly and immediately wereall attention. Each boy was about sixteen yearsof age. Tom Halstead was fair, brown-hairedand blue-eyed with a naturally merry look. JoeDawson was darker, somewhat more reserved inmanner and was Tom’s fast chum and greatadmirer.

Yes; readers of the preceding volume in thisseries will recognize Tom and Joe at once asthe young Americans who became the originalmembers of the Motor Boat Club of the Kennebec.It was they who put Broker Prescott’sfast motor boat, the “Sunbeam,” once more incommission; they who went through some mostlively adventures along the coast near the mouthof the Kennebec and who rendered tremendouslyimportant services to Revenue Officer Evans, acousin of the broker, in penetrating the secretof Smugglers’ Island.

Now these same two members of the MotorBoat Club were traveling on business that theybelieved to be wholly commonplace. They wereheaded for the island of Nantucket, south ofCape Cod. The experiences ahead of them, theyimagined, were to be of the most ordinary kind.They had no glimpse, as yet, of the new excitementsthat Fate had in store for them. Theyhad no hint of the startling adventures intowhich they were soon to be plunged.

But that mention of the name “Meteor” hadaroused their instant attention. That was thename of the motor boat that they were to joinand take charge of at Wood’s Hole. The craftwas the property of Mr. Horace Dunstan, oneof the wealthy residents of the island of Nantucket.

An ordinary boy might not have heard thelow-toned conversation of the pair in the seatahead. But Tom and Joe, attuned to the life ofthe sea and with ears trained to note the slightestirregularity of the sound of machinery, possessedacute hearing indeed.

At the first words of that conversation betweenthe unknown pair Tom gave Joe a slightnudge in the side. Dawson’s eyes promptlyclosed, his lips parting, his head sinking slightlyforward. He appeared to be sound asleep. Halsteadseemed to be wholly interested in the newspaperat which he was glancing. Not even whenthe possibility of foul play to the “Meteor”was mentioned did either youngster betray anyfurther sign. Indeed, the men in the seat aheadwere evidently confident that the boys could nothear their low-pitched talk. None of the otherseats near by was occupied.

The accommodation train from Boston, rollingslowly along late in this July afternoon, had just left Falmouth for its run of a fewmiles to Wood’s Hole, the last stop, as thiswould be the end of the mainland route. Acrossthe meadows the hot breath of July camethrough the open car windows. The brightnessof the sunshine inclined one to close hiseyes, so that Joe Dawson’s slumber seemed themost natural thing in the world. Indeed, TomHalstead’s eyes were narrowing; he seemed thenext candidate for a doze. Yet, depend upon it, neither boy had been more awake in his life.The slightest hint of possible mischief to theboat that was soon to be intrusted to their carewas enough to set their nerves a-tingle.

“That was a queer rumpus on Boston Commonthe other day,” began the florid-faced man.The subject had been changed. No furthermention was made of the “Meteor.” Tom Halsteadfelt tremendously disappointed. He hadhoped to hear more that would be of interest tohimself. But the pair in the seat ahead did notagain refer to the “Meteor.” So Tom, afterstealthily making a few pin pricks in his newspaper, settled far down in his seat, holding thepaper before his face as though reading. Inreality he was studying what he could see ofthe faces of the men who had so suddenlyaroused his interest. With the paper closeenough to his face the pin holes were almost asgood as windows.

Over those last few miles droned the train.Tom felt cheated in not hearing more, but toall appearances the strangers had forgotten theexistence of the “Meteor.” When the train wasyet a mile out from Wood’s Hole the twomen arose, going to the forward end of the car.The train slackened in speed, the two mendropping off on the further side of the carfrom where the boys sat. By the time thatHalstead deemed it prudent to slip across toa window opposite, the two men were out ofsight.

“Now what on earth can be the reason forthose two fellows desiring any injury to a gentleman’sprivate yacht?” muttered Tom, rejoininghis chum.

“At all events, it’s handy to be well warnedin advance,” returned Joe with a quiet grin.

“Yes, if we run across that pair within twentycable lengths of the boat we’ll know ’em and beon our watch,” answered Halstead with a meaningflash in his eyes.

They had little more time for puzzling theirheads, for the train was now rolling in at thelittle station at Wood’s Hole. There were lessthan a dozen people to disembark. Out of sucha small crowd anyone looking for two youngmotor boat experts would have little difficulty inselecting the two boys with weather-tinted faces, who wore suits of strong, serviceable navy blue, soft brown canvas shoes and straw hats. So atall, slender man of forty-five, dressed in outinggray and wearing an expensive fine-straw hat, came at once toward them.

“Captain Tom Halstead?” he inquired, lookingfrom one boy to the other.

“That’s my name, sir,” Tom answered. “Youare Mr. Horace Dunstan?”

“Yes. And heartily glad that you did notdisappoint me.”

“There was no good reason why we should, sir,” Halstead rejoined, then presented hischum. Mr. Dunstan shook hands with both verycordially, although he was not able to concealentirely his astonishment at their youthfulness.

“I – er – really expected to find you a littleolder,” Mr. Dunstan admitted with an easylaugh. “However, it’s all right. My friend,Prescott, told me he had found, among the seacoastboys of Maine, some of the best materialfor motor boat handlers in the world. I askedhim to send me the best pair he knew, so, ofcourse, it’s all right, for Prescott never goesback on a friend.”

“We’ve handled Mr. Prescott’s boat in somerather tight places,” said Tom quietly.

“You have your suit cases, I see. There’s noneed to carry them down to the waterfront. Come over here and hand them to thedriver.”

Mr. Dunstan led the way to the solitary hackat the station, though neither sturdy boy wouldhave thought anything of walking and carryinghis baggage.

“Now we’ll drive down at once and you’ll seethe ‘Meteor’” proposed their host. “Perhapsyou will be able to tell, very soon, what ails thecraft. I have had one or two local machinistslook her over and the owner of one small motorboat who thought he knew all about such craft.Yet the engine doesn’t work well enough for meto be satisfied to try to use the boat.”

In a few minutes the three alighted near apier that jutted some hundred feet out over thewater. At the further end lay as jaunty a fifty-footcraft as either boy had ever laid eyes on.

“So that’s the ‘Meteor’? Oh, she’s a dandy!”cried Tom in a burst of enthusiasm.

“Say, look at the beauty of her lines! Whatspeed she ought to be good for, with a strong, well-behaving engine!” came from quiet Joe.

Horace Dunstan smiled with pardonable prideas he led the way down the pier. As far as firstimpressions went the boat was worthy of extendedpraise. Though only five feet longerthan the “Sunbeam,” she had the look of beinga much larger craft. There was more forecastle.The space of the bridge deck seemedbetter arranged. There was an awning overthe bridge deck and another over the cockpitaft. The cabin looked roomier. From davitsat the starboard side swung a natty-lookingsmall boat.

“Gr-r-r-r!” came a warning sound from theclosed forecastle as the trio stepped aboard.

“In the absence of crew I’ve kept my bull pupdown in the engine room,” explained Mr. Dunstan.

“A mighty good idea,” muttered Tom with aswift recollection of the fragments of conversationhe and Joe had overheard on the train.

“Stand back a moment, until I let him outand present you to him,” requested the owner.“Don’t be afraid of him. Bouncer is a veryintelligent dog. Hell understand an introductionas quickly as a human being would.”

One of the forecastle windows was open, togive air to the dog, though it was not largeenough to let him out.

“It’s all right, Bouncer,” called Mr. Dunstanreassuringly, as he fitted a key at the forecastledoor. “Now come out like a four-footed gentlemanand meet some friends of ours.”

Bouncer came nimbly out, a low-built, thicksetbulldog of the finest fighting type. He had asquare-set pair of jaws that looked capable oftaking a tremendous grip. His look, however, under the prompt petting of his owner, waskindly and curious.

“These young gentlemen are all right,Bouncer,” spoke Mr. Dunstan. “Go over andget acquainted with them. Let them pet you.”

Bouncer contented himself with a brief sniffingat each boy in turn. Then he submitted tocaresses, wagging his short stump of a tail.

“He understands. You’ll never need to beafraid of this dog, unless you do some such extremething as to attack me or a member ofmy family,” Mr. Dunstan assured them. “Nowcome down into the engine room.”

“Say, this is something like!” uttered Joeenthusiastically, as he stepped below and stoodlooking about him. Here there was an abundanceof room, for much of the engine was housed backunder the bridge deck. The engineer had plentyof space in which to move about. Forward ofthe engine room, shut off by a curtain, was thegalley. Here were stove, sink, ice box, dishrackand room for a goodly supply of foods.

Through a passageway Mr. Dunstan led themunder the bridge deck. Curtained off from thepassage was a wide berth.

“We generally call this the captain’s berth,”explained the owner.

“I guess my berth will be on one of the engineroom lockers with Joe,” smiled Halstead.

The cabin proved to be spacious and handsome.The four locker seats could be fitted intoberths when cruising. The cockpit aft was largeand contained, besides side seats, half a dozencomfortable armchairs.

“Now suppose we go back to the engine,” desiredMr. Dunstan, turning about. “I’m anxious, indeed, to know whether you can locatethe trouble that has tied this craft up here.”

Returning to the engine room, the boys openedtheir suit cases, taking out overalls and jumpers.Clad in these they were soon armed withwrenches and other tools, exploring the mysteriesof that engine.

“This machine hasn’t had very good care,”spoke Joe after a while. “She’s fouled withdirt and thick oil at a good many points.”

“Has the motor been overheated?” asked theowner.

“I don’t believe so, sir; at least, not to anyserious extent,” Joe stated as his opinion.

“Any repairs to parts going to be necessary?”

“A few, but simple ones, I guess. We oughtto be able to make ’em from the materials athand.”

“You – er – couldn’t run out to-night, I suppose?”

“We shall be very fortunate, sir,” Joe answered,“if we can take this boat out to-morrow forenoon.”

“We’ll stay aboard to-night and work as lateas we can,” Tom explained. “Joe can’t reallytell, until we get started, just how much willhave to be done. But the motor is not hurt pastordinary repair.”

“I was going to ask you over to the hotel fordinner to-night,” hinted the owner.

“There seems to be plenty of everything toeat in the galley,” Tom answered seriously.“So, if you don’t mind, sir, we’ll stay rightby our work and help ourselves to food aswe can.”

“Make yourselves at home, then. Do youmean to sleep aboard to-night?” inquired Mr.Dunstan, as he started up the steps to the bridgedeck.

“I think we’d better, for more reasons thanone, perhaps,” Halstead made answer as he, too, stepped to the bridge deck. “Mr. Dunstan,”he went on in a lower voice, “do youknow of anyone who could have a good reasonfor wanting to injure your boat?”

“Why, no,” replied the owner, though neverthelesshe gave a slight start. “Why?”

Tom described the men and the conversationaboard the train. Mr. Dunstan listened withinterest, though he shook his head when the twomen were described.

“There might be a shadow of reason for theirtalk in one direction,” he admitted, slowly andreluctantly. “But, pshaw, no; I’m dreaming.No, there can’t be any reason for wanting toruin my boat. Very likely you didn’t hear quiteright.”

“At any rate,” Halstead went on, “Joe andI will be aboard to-night, and probably everynight as long as we’re in your employ.”

“You seem to take this thing seriously, Halstead.”

“I don’t believe, sir, in throwing away whatseems like a very valuable hint. It won’t doany harm for us to be watchful, anyway. Bythe way, sir, do you mind letting the dog stayaboard, too?”

“Certainly you may have him,” nodded theowner. “He won’t interfere with you and he’llsleep with one eye and both ears open. Well, make yourselves at home here, boys. Do whateveryou please in the galley and feed and waterBouncer. I’ll be at the hotel this evening incase you should want me for anything.”

After impressing upon Bouncer that he wasstill to remain aboard, Mr. Dunstan strolledleisurely down the pier. Both boys went hardat work.

“What do you make of our new employer?”asked Joe after a while.

“He seems like an ordinary, easy-going man,”Tom replied. “I don’t believe he ever startledanyone by doing anything very original, buthe’s a gentleman, and we’re going to find himconsiderate and just. That’s all we can ask inany man.”

After that there wasn’t much talk, except thefew words now and then that related to takingthe motor to pieces, and repairing and replacingits parts. At the close of day they helpedthemselves to a bountiful meal and made a fastfriend of Bouncer by catering to his healthy appetite.Then, by the light of lanterns, theywent to work again. It was after eleven o’clockwhen they found themselves too drowsy to dofurther justice to their work.

“Let’s go up on deck and get some air. Afterthat we’ll turn in,” proposed Halstead.

“I wonder if we’re going to have visitors orany trouble?” mused Joe. “Somehow I can’tempty my head of that talk in the car this afternoon.”

“If we do have any trouble,” laughed Tomnodding down at the dog dozing on the deck attheir feet, “I’ve a private notion that we’regoing to be able to pass some back – to someone.”

Twenty minutes later the motor boat chumshad made up berths on the engine-room lockersand had undressed and gone to bed. Both weresoon sound asleep. They relied on Bouncer, wholay on the deck just outside the open hatchway,to let them know if anything threatening happened.