The Motor Boat Club at Nantucket: or, The Mystery of the Dunstan Heir

CHAPTER V – A JOKE ON THE ENEMY

The slight, swarthy stranger rolled hiscigarette up nicely, moistening the edgeof the paper, stuck the thing between hislips, lighted the tobacco and began to smoke inevident enjoyment.

“That’s my party, all right,” quivered Tom.“And now I’ve found him what on earth am Igoing to do with him?”

That was a new poser. Halstead had been sointent on identifying his suspect that, now herecognized him, he must figure out what wasto be done.

“If the fellow is all right he ought to haveno objections to going along with me and answeringquestions. If he won’t do that” – hereTom’s eyes began to flash – “I believe I’ll makehim. This is a business that calls for sternmeasures. This fellow belongs to the crowdthat must know all about Ted Dunstan’s disappearance.”

Yet, to look at him, one would hardly suspectthe swarthy man leaning against the pier railof being a conspirator. As he smoked he appearedto be wholly at peace with himself andwith the world. He did not seem to have a careon earth.

As he still crouched behind a bush, watchingthe nearby fellow in the dark, an impulse ofmischief came to Tom Halstead. He rememberedthat night prowling about the “Meteor”over at Wood’s Hole, and he remembered howBouncer had frightened this same man.

“Gr-r-r-r!” sounded Tom suddenly from behindthe bush. “Gr-r-r-r! Woof! Woof!”

It was a splendid imitation of the growl andbark of a bulldog. At the same instant Tommade a semi-spring through the bush.

The “pirate” uttered a wordless howl offright. He lurched, attempted to recover himselfand leap at the same instant, and —

Splash! There was another howl of terroras the man slipped over backward, then, head-first, struck the water at the side of the pier.

“Help! I drown!” came in a muffled voice, and a new note of terror sounded on the night.

Now drowning anyone was as far from TomHalstead’s mind as could be. With an upwardbound he sprinted out onto the pier, bendingunder the rail close to where the frightened onewas making huge rings on the water in hisstruggle to keep up.

In his efforts the fellow reached one of thepiles of the pier, hanging to it in mortal terror.

“Help, help, kind sir!” he pleaded hoarsely.“Not a stroke do I swim. Pull me out before Idrown.”

Throwing himself upon the pier, Tom bentdown with both hands.

“Here, catch hold,” he hailed. “You’re inno danger. I’ll pull you out all right.”

It was some moments before Tom could persuadehis “pirate” to let go that frantic clutchat the pile. But at length Halstead drew hisdripping suspect up onto the boards of thepier.

“Where is that terrible, that miser-r-rabledog!” panted the swarthy one, glaring abouthim.

“That’s all right,” Tom answered composedly.“There isn’t any dog.”

“But – but I heard him,” protested the other, still nervous, as he stared suspiciously aroundhim. “The wr-r-retched animal sprang for me.His teeth almost grazed my leg.”

Such was the power of imagination – a finetribute to Tom’s skill as a mimic.

“Aren’t you thinking of the other night, overat Wood’s Hole, when you tried to get aboardthe ‘Meteor’ to wreck the engine?”

Halstead shot this question out with disconcertingsuddenness. The young skipper lookedstraight, keenly, into the other’s eyes, standingso that he could prevent the stranger’s suddenbolt from the pier.

“I? What do you talk about?” demanded theforeigner, pretending astonishment.

“Oh, I know all about you,” nodded Tom.“You’re the party.”

“Be careful, boy! You insult me!” cried theother angrily.

“That’s all right, then,” Tom went on coolly.“Now maybe I’m going to insult you a littlemore. The trouble is, I need information, andyou’re the best one to give it to me. Where’sTed Dunstan?”

“I – I – you – ” stammered the foreigner.“What do I know about Ted Dunstan? No, no,no! You are wrong. I have not seen the boy – donot know him.”

“Yet you appear to know that he is a boy,”insisted Tom sternly. “Come, now, if you won’ttalk with me you’d better walk along with me, and we’ll find some one you’ll be more willingto answer.”

“How? I walk with you? Boy, do not be afool,” retorted the swarthy one angrily. “Ishall not walk with you. I do not like yourcompany.”

“I’m not sure that I like yours, either,” retortedthe boy. “But there are times when Icannot afford to be particular. Come, whyshould you object to walking along with me?All I propose is that we find the nearest constableand that you answer his questions. Theconstable will decide whether to hold you ornot.”

“Step aside,” commanded the swarthy manimperiously. Full of outraged dignity he attemptedto brush past the young skipper. ButTom Halstead, both firm and cool, now that hismind was made up, took a grip on the fellow’sleft arm.

“Take your hand off! Let me go!” screamedthe fellow, his eyes ablaze with passion. “Outof my way, idiot, and take yourself off!”

As the swarthy one struggled to free himselfTom only tightened his grip, much as the bullpup would have done.

“Don’t be disagreeable,” urged Tom.“Come, my request is a very proper one. I’monly asking you to go before one of the officersof the law. No honest man can really objectto that.”

“You – ” screamed the foreigner.

He shot his right hand suddenly into a jacketpocket. But Tom, watching every movementalertly, let go of the fellow’s left arm, makinga bound and seizing his right arm with bothstrong hands. There was a fierce struggle, butHalstead’s muscles had been toughened byexercise and by many days of hard work at a steeringwheel in rough weather. This slight manfrom another country was no match for theAmerican boy.

Down they went to the flooring of the pierwith a crash, but young Halstead was uppermost.In another twinkling he was bending theswarthy one’s right arm until that fellow wasready to sue for a truce.

Tom now held him helpless, kneeling on him.

“What were you trying to fish out of thatjacket pocket?” demanded the young motor boatcaptain, thrusting his own hand in. He drewout something and held it up briefly – a claspknife.

“A coward’s tool!” uttered Tom, his voiceringing scornfully. Then he threw the claspknife far out so that it splashed in the water.“Why don’t you cultivate a man’s muscle andfight like a man, instead of toting around thingslike that? Come, get up on your feet.”

Bounding up, Halstead yanked the other upright.In a twinkling the swarthy man brokefrom him, sprinting off the pier.

“You haven’t learned to run right, either,”grinned Halstead, dashing after the “pirate”and gripping a hand in his collar.

That brought them facing each other again.How the swarthy one glared at his resoluteyoung captor! They were about of a height, these two, and might have weighed about thesame. But the man possessed nowhere near thestrength of this sea-toughened boy.

“Now see here,” spoke Tom more pleasantly,“I’m doing what I think is right or I wouldn’tventure to be so rough. Walk along with mesensibly, until we can find out where a constablelives. I’ve got the best of you and you realizeI can do it again. But I don’t want to be roughwith you. It goes against the grain.”

The swarthy one’s only answer was to glareat the young skipper with a look full of hate.

Tom suddenly changed his tone.

“I know what you’re thinking of, myman,” he cried tauntingly. “You are justthinking to yourself what a fine time you’dhave with me if you had me down in Honduras – whereyour friends do things in a differentway!”

The taunt told, for the stranger’s eyesgleamed with malice.

“Ah, in good Honduras!” he hissed. “Yes,if I had you there, and – ”

He stopped as suddenly as he had begun.

“That’s just what I wanted to know,” mockedHalstead. “Honduras is your country, and nowI know to a dot why you’re interested in havingTed Dunstan vanish and stay vanished for awhile. Come along, now. We’ll keep right onuntil we find that constable!”

Tom seized the stranger’s right arm in earnestnow. The other held back, as though hewould resist, but suddenly changed his mind.

“You are somewhat the stronger – withhands,” he said in an ugly tone. “So I shall gowith you. But perhaps you will much regretwhat you are doing to-night.”

“Oh, I hope not,” Tom jeered cheerily. “Atall events I’m doing the best I know how. AndI’m glad you’re not going to make any fuss. Ihate to be cranky with anyone.”

The place to which the pier belonged looked, from what Tom had been able to see of it, likea run-down coast farm. Away up on a hill tothe left were a dilapidated old farm house andother buildings. Halstead feared, though, thatthe stranger might have friends up at that houseand so decided to keep on through the woods atthe right.

Before long they struck a fairly well definedroad through the forest, a road that lookedas though it might lead to somewhere in particular.

“We’ll keep right on along this road, if youdon’t mind,” said the boy. He kept now only afair hold of the other’s wrist. As the swarthyone offered no opposition, they made passablygood speed over the road. But Tom, though helooked unconcerned, was wholly on the alert forany sudden move on the part of his captive.

“If I find I’m wholly in the wrong,” saidTom pleasantly, after they had gone at least aquarter of a mile in this fashion, “there isn’tanyone in the whole United States who’d bemore glad to make a complete apology.”

“But that will not save you from trouble,”breathed the swarthy one angrily. “The lawsof your country do not allow such high-handeddeeds as you have been guilty of.”

“Down in Honduras the laws are a bit different, aren’t they?” asked Halstead very pleasantly.

“Down in Honduras, they – ”

The swarthy one checked himself suddenly.

“That is the second time you have asked meabout Honduras,” he went on presently. “Whydo you say so much about Honduras?”

“I’ve trapped you into admitting that it’syour country,” laughed Halstead. “And thattells me, too, why you are so interested in havingTed Dunstan kept out of sight for the nextfew days.”

“What’s all this talk about Honduras?” demandeda gruff voice. The challenge madeboth jump. A stocky figure stepped alertly outfrom behind a tree. It was the solidly built, florid-faced man – the other of the pair Tomhad first seen in the seat ahead.

“Oh, you, you, you!” cried the swarthy onedelightedly, as he wrenched his captive wristfree from Halstead’s weakening clutch. “Youhave appeared in time, my friend!”

“So?” roared the florid-faced one, taking abusiness-like grip of Tom Halstead’s collar.“What was this young cub doing?”

“Doing?” cried the swarthy one, dancing inhis wrath, his eyes gleaming like coals. “Hehad the impudence, this boy, to say he wouldtake me to a constable. He insists that I knowall about one Ted Dunstan.”

“Does, eh?” growled the powerful, florid-facedone, giving Tom a mighty shake. “Thenwe’ll take care of this young man! Oh, we’llgive him a pleasant time!”

“Yes, yes! Just as we would in Honduras!”laughed the swarthy one gleefully. “He hasbeen asking much, just now, about the way theydo things in Honduras.”

“Then he’ll be sure to be just the lad who’llappreciate a little information at first hand!”jeered Tom’s captor.

CHAPTER VI – TOM HAS A BAD QUARTER OF AN HOUR

“So the youngster was going to be high-handedwith ye, was he?” demandedthe florid-faced one, and despite the intensedarkness there in the woods, Tom Halsteadcould see the ugly gleam in his strong-handedcaptor’s eyes.

The swarthy one stepped to the other side ofhis friend and whispered something in thatworthy’s ear. It was a rather long communication.Though he tried with all his might tooverhear some of it, Halstead could not distinguisha single word. Yet, as the narrationproceeded, Tom felt that powerful grip on hiscoat collar increase in intensity.

“Well, we’ll take care of you, youngster,”declared the florid-faced one at last. “You’retoo big a nuisance to have at large! And asyou’ve been giving your time to other folks’business, we’ll take good care of your time afterthis! Come along now!”

Tom had not tried to resist and for a most excellentreason. He well knew that his presentcaptor could fell him like a log. Here no contestof muscles was to be thought of. Craft mustbe substituted for strength.

In the boy’s brain revolved swiftly many plansfor escape. Just as the florid-faced one startedto force him over the path lately taken the rightidea came to the young captive. He puckeredhis lips, emitting a shrill whistle.

Nor had he guessed wrongly. There was anecho here. Back on the air came almost theexact duplicate of the whistle Halstead had letloose.

In a jiffy both of his captors halted. Perhapsthey suspected it to be only an echo, but theywanted to make sure.

Quicker than a flash, though, before theycould make any tests for themselves, Halsteadshouted:

“Fine! Rush ’em quick, fellows! Jump on’em and hold ’em down. Don’t let either rascalget away!”

His voice was so joyous, so exultant, that itcompletely fooled the pair for an instant.Though the florid-faced one did not release thetightness of his grip on the young skipper’scoat collar, he, like the swarthy one, used hiseyes to look about in all directions.

That moment was enough for Tom Halstead, doubly quick-witted in his peril. His hands flewup the front of his uniform coat, ripping buttonsout of button holes at one swift move. Wrench!Tom slipped out of his coat, springing aheadunder the trees.

“Here, you! Come back here!” roared theflorid-faced one absurdly, as he plunged afterthe young fugitive. The swarthy one, too, joined in the chase, freeing himself of a torrentof Spanish words.

Tom Halstead had just a few seconds’ start, aided by the darkness that enveloped them all.A hundred yards or so Tom dashed, rathernoisily. Then, off at right angles to his formercourse he sped on tip-toe, nor did he go muchmore than fifty yards ere he landed up against astraight tree whose low-hanging limbs bore anabundant foliage.

Up this tree-trunk, without hesitation, shinnedthe young skipper, drawing himself well upamong the leaves in what he felt must be recordtime for such a feat.

For a few moments more he could hear hispursuers stumbling along the wrong course.Then he knew, by the sounds, that they hadturned back and were keeping well apart in thehope of covering more ground. But the uncertaintyof their steps, however, told the boy upthe tree that his pursuers were wholly off thetrail and giving up the chase. Then, veering, the florid-faced man and the swarthy one cametoward each other. They halted almost squarelyunder the tree that held young Halstead.

Tom’s first, throbbing thought was that theyhad tracked him here. He did not stir, but thegrim lines around his mouth deepened. Letthem try to get him then. They would have toclimb the tree to get at him and he meant tomake use of his hands and feet in defendinghimself.

“I can give them all they want for a while,”he told himself between his teeth. In fact, in hisexcitement he all but made his remark halfaloud.

“Well, he’s got away from us, all right,”growled the florid-faced one in a tone of mingleddisappointment and rage.

“We shall at least know him well after this,”sighed the swarthy one in a sinister tone.

“And I hope you’ll have your wish,” flaredlistening Tom indignantly, “though I’ll try tocontrol the time and place of meeting.”

“I’d rather have lost a thousand dollars thanthat boy,” went on the larger man gruffly.

“A thousand?” sneered the other. “Diablo!I’d give five thousand to have him in our handsthis moment.”

“And I believe I’d give more,” echoed Tomsilently, “to keep out of your clutches – if I hadthe money.”

Then, drawing closely together, the pair conversedin whispers. Again Tom groaned overhis hearing which, keen as it was, could get nothingconnected from the low tones of the pair onthe ground. Whatever they were saying, theseplotters must be terribly in earnest over something.In his eagerness Tom bent too far forward.His foot slipped. Frantically he clutchedat a branch overhead to save himself fromplunging to the ground. Of course the movemade some noise.

“Diablo! What was that? And so close, too!” demanded the smaller man.

“What?” demanded the larger man.

“That noise! Some one must be prowlingabout here,” continued the swarthy one in awhisper just loud enough to reach Tom’s ears.

As he spoke the Spaniard’s head turned insuch a way as to show that he was looking upinto the tree in which Tom stood. It was becominga truly bad quarter of an hour for theboy.

“I heard nothing,” said the other one gruffly.“Leastways, nothing more than some night animalstirring, maybe.”

“Let’s make a search of these trees,” proposedthe Spaniard.

Tom shivered. Danger was again comingmuch too close to please him.

“Come along,” rejoined the florid-faced oneimpatiently. “We’re wasting too much time, listening to the whisperings of the wind. Comealong, Alvarez.”

After a brief objection the one addressed asAlvarez turned and stepped off with his friend.They had not gone far when Tom Halsteadslipped down the tree trunk. Alarmed as hehad been when danger threatened most, he nowknew that he must follow them.

“For they may lead me straight to Ted Dunstan,”he thought eagerly.

Naturally he did not think it wise to get tooclose to the pair. Captured again, Tom Halsteadknew that he was not likely to be able tobe of any further service to his employer. Besides,in escaping and leaving his coat in thehands of the enemy he now remembered how hiswhite shirt might betray him if he got too closeto them.

“It’s a wonder they didn’t see all this whitewhen I was up in the tree,” he muttered, as hestole along in pursuit. “The leaves must havecovered me mighty well.”

For perhaps five minutes Halstead keptsteadily behind the pair, guiding himself by thedistant sound of their steps, for they did notkeep to any path. Then suddenly the boyhalted. The noise of footsteps ahead had diedout. Tom stood, silent, expectant, but no soundcame to his ears in the next two or three minutes.Then a disagreeable conclusion forceditself on the young skipper’s mind.

“Gracious! They’ve slipped away from meor else they’re at the end of their tramp.”

Again Halstead stole forward on tiptoe. But, though he spent nearly the next half-hour inexploring, he found nothing to reward hissearch. He came at last to a road which hejudged to be the same one along which he hadstarted with the Spaniard. Taking his coursefrom the stars, seaman fashion, Halstead keptalong. Within ten minutes he was upon a roadthat looked like a highway.

“Say, but how good that sounds!” he thrilled, suddenly halting. He had the presence of mindnext to slip behind the trunk of a big tree.

A horse was moving lazily along the road.There was the sound of wheels, too, thoughabove all rose a cheery whistling, as thoughthe owner of that pair of lips were the happiestmortal alive. It was a good, contented whistling.It had about it, too, the ring of honesty.The cheery sound made Tom Halstead feel faithat once in the owner of that whistle.

Then there came into sight a plain, much-wornopen buggy, drawn by a sleek-looking grayhorse. Seated in the vehicle was a youngsterof about Tom’s own age, who looked much likea farmer’s boy. He had no coat on, his suspendersbeing much in evidence. On his headhe wore a nondescript, broad-brimmed strawhat of the kind used by haymakers. At least itlooked as though it might once have been thatsort of a hat, but its shape was gone. Fromwhere Halstead stood not much of a glimpsecould be had of the boy’s face.

“Good evening, friend,” Tom hailed, steppingout from behind the tree.

“Evening! Who-o-oa!” The other boyreined up, peering down through the semidarkness.“Want a lift?”

“Just what, if it happens that you’re headedtoward the town of Nantucket,” Tom replied.

“That’s just where I’m headed. But holdon – gracious! I came within an ace of forgetting.I’ve got to turn back and drive to Sanderson’sfor a basket of eggs. Won’t take me long, though. Pile in.”

Tom gladly accepted the invitation. After hislate experiences it seemed good to be againwith some one who appeared to be wholesomeand friendly. The other boy turned about, layingthe whip lightly over the horse.

“Look as if you were off of some yacht,”commented the other boy, noting Halstead’sblue trousers and cap.

“I’m the skipper at present on Mr. Dunstan’s‘Meteor,’” Tom explained.

“Say, that’s the man whose son disappearedto-day,” exclaimed the other boy.

“Then you’ve heard about it?”

“Yep; it’s all over the island now, I guess.Constables been going everywhere and asking aheap of questions. Have they found youngTed?”

“I’m afraid not,” sighed Tom.

“Too bad. But who could have wanted himto disappear?”

“That’s a long story,” Tom answered discreetly.“But say, where are you going?”

For the young driver was turning off theroad to go to the very farmhouse to which thepier seemed to belong.

“To Sanderson’s, as I told you,” replied theother boy.

“Does that pier down at the water front belongto him?”

“Yep, though I guess he don’t have muchuse for it.”

“What sort of man is Sanderson?”

“Good enough sort, I guess.”

“What does he do for a living?”

“He farms some, but I guess that don’tamount to a lot,” replied the young driver. “Ihear he’s going into some new kind ofbusiness this fall. Some kind of a factory he’sgoing to build on the place. I know he’s beenhaving a lot of cases of machinery come overon the boat from Wood’s Hole lately.”

“Machinery?” echoed Halstead. Somehow, from the first, that word struck a strange notewithin him.

“There’s Sanderson, now,” continued theyoung driver, pointing toward the house withhis whip.

Then the buggy drew up alongside the backporch. Halstead had plenty of chance to studythis farmer as he greeted the young driver:

“Hullo, Jed Prentiss. After them eggs?”

“Yes; and nearly forgot ’em.”

“I reckoned you’d be along about now. Well,I’ll get ’em.”

Farmer Sanderson appeared to be about fiftyyears of age. He would have been rather tallif so much of his lanky height had not beenturned over in a decided stoop of the shoulders.He had a rough, weather-beaten skin that seemedto match his rough jean overalls and flannelshirt. The most noticeable thing about this manwas the keenness of his eyes. As the farmercame out again to put the basket of eggs in theback of the buggy Tom Halstead asked suddenly:

“Do you know a man who looks like aSpaniard and wears brown striped trousers and ablack coat?”

Farmer Sanderson, so the young captainthought, gave a slight start. Then he unconcernedlyplaced the basket in the buggy beforehe answered:

“Can’t say as I know such a party. But I’veseen a fellow that answered that description.”

“When, if I may ask, and where?”

“Why, late this afternoon I saw such a partyhanging around my pier. I s’posed he wasfishing, but I didn’t go down to ask any questions.”

Tom put a few more queries, though withoutbetraying too deep an interest. Farmer Sandersonanswered with an appearance of utterfrankness, but Tom learned nothing from thereplies.

“I wonder,” ventured Jed Prentiss, afterthey had driven some distance along the road,“whether you think your Spanish-looking partyhad anything to do with Ted Dunstan’s beingmissing?”

Tom laughed good-naturedly, but made noreply, thinking that the easiest way of turningoff the question.

“Say,” broke in Jed again after a while, “Iwish you could get me a job aboard the ‘Meteor.’”

“What kind of a job?” inquired the youngcaptain.

“Why, I’m generally handy aboard a boat.Been out on fishing craft a good deal. The jobI struck Mr. Dunstan for, some weeks ago, wasthat of steward. You see, I’m a pretty fair seacook, too. But Mr. Dunstan said he didn’t needa steward or a cook aboard. I wonder if he’dchange his mind.”

“He might,” replied Tom.

“Do you think you’d like to have meaboard?”

“From what I’ve seen of you, Jed, I think Iwould,” replied Tom Halstead heartily. “Atany rate, I’ll speak to Mr. Dunstan about you.”

“Will you, though?” cried Jed delightedly.“Say, I’d give my head – no, but the hair offthe top of my head – to go cruising about on the‘Meteor.’ It must be a king’s life.”

“It is,” Tom assented.

Then, for some time, the two boys were silentBut at last Tom Halstead, after some intensethinking, burst out almost explosively:

“Machinery? Great Scott!”

“Er – eh?” queried Jed, looking at him in surprise.

“Oh, nothing,” returned the young skipperevasively. “Just forget that you heard me sayanything, will you?”

“Sure,” nodded Jed obligingly. Soon after, they drove into the quaint little old seaport, summer-resort town, Nantucket. Tom’s glancealighted on a bicycle shop, still open. ThankingJed heartily for the lift, Halstead hurriedinto the shop. He succeeded in renting a bicycle, agreeing that it should be returned in themorning. Then, after some inquiries as to theroad, Tom set out, pedaling swiftly.

He got off the road once, but in the end foundthe Dunstan place all right. At the gatewayto the grounds Halstead dismounted. For afew moments he stood looking up at the house, only a part of which was lighted.

“Machinery?” repeated the young skipper tohimself, for the twentieth time. “Machinery?Eh? Oh, but we want to know all about that, and, what’s more, we’ve got to know. Machinery!It pieces in with some other facts thathave come out to-day.”

Then mindful of the fact that the news he borewas, or should be, of great importance to thedistracted master of the house beyond, TomHalstead, instead of remounting, pushed hiswheel along as he walked briskly up the driveway.

“Machinery!” he muttered once more underhis breath. He could not rid himself of themagic of that word.

Yet it was a huge pity that the young motorboat captain could not have possessed sharpenough vision to see into the heart of a denseclump of lilac bushes that bordered the driveway.Had his vision been that keen he wouldhave seen his very Spaniard crouched low inthe clump.

That worthy saw the boy and watched himwith baleful, gleaming eyes. It was a look thatboded no good to the young skipper.

“You are too wise, young gringo, and, besides, you have struck me down,” growledAlvarez. “But we shall take care of you. Youshall do no more harm!”