The Motor Boat Club in Florida: or, Laying the Ghost of Alligator Swamp

CHAPTER XXI
DIXON STOCK DROPS

“JOE, you can keep yourself so easily out of sight, somehow, that I’m going to use you to play the spy to-day,” hinted Captain Tom to his chum, after the two had had an early breakfast together.

“I’m not afraid of anything you use me for,” Dawson retorted.

“You must have a better opinion of me than I have of myself sometimes,” retorted the motor boat captain, thinking of his unintentional eavesdropping of the night before.

“What do you want me to do?” Joe Dawson asked.

“You know the morning train that leaves here, for Washington and New York?”

Joe nodded.

“Get aboard that train as soon as it comes in on the spur. If Oliver Dixon is aboard of it, and doesn’t leave when the Tampa station is reached, then jump out and telephone me here.”

“And then – ?”

“Hustle aboard again, keeping Dixon in sight, but try to keep yourself out of his line of vision.”

“Something must be in the wind,” commented Joe.

“Something is in the wind,” his chum admitted. “If Oliver Dixon tries to leave here to-day, then I shall go to Mr. Tremaine, and he’ll very likely decide to have the authorities telegraph ahead to have Dixon arrested. If that should happen, you’ll be there to see that the officers don’t get someone else by mistake.”

“But Dixon might go around through the town of Tampa, instead,” objected Joe. “He might be too smart to take the northbound train here at the hotel.”

“Yes; or he might go through the town and take the Florida Central train,” assented Halstead. “If he doesn’t leave here by the train, but goes up through Tampa, then you, on board the train, will see him if he gets aboard at the Tampa station. If he doesn’t go by that train, you’ll be here in season to shadow him away in case he tries to leave by the Florida Central. So he can’t start north to-day without our knowing it. It’s best for you to do this work. Then, if Dixon is watching me, he’ll find me sitting on one of the porch chairs from which I couldn’t see him take the train. That will do a lot to throw him off his guard.”

“I know my part, then,” agreed young Dawson. “I’ll do it, too.”

One of the railroads that enter Tampa goes on down to Port Tampa, nine miles below. This road also maintains a spur entering the hotel grounds. All through trains by this road arrive and depart on the spur.

Dixon, however, appeared about the lobby and the verandas that forenoon, looking as though anything but flight was in his mind. Much of his time he spent in the company of Henry Tremaine, and appeared unusually lively and contented.

“No get-away for him,” decided Halstead, later. “He’s going to stay and have some more tries at his luck with Miss Silsbee. Anyway, it’s too late, now, for him to take the morning train north by either railway.”

Joe went as far as Tampa, of course without result. He took the street car back to the hotel, reporting to Tom, by a mere signal, as he passed, the fruitlessness of his mission. Then Joe hung about, in the background, until after the time for the morning train to leave over the Central road. At that time Dixon was chatting with Mr. and Mrs. Tremaine and Ida Silsbee.

Further vigilance, for the present, therefore, seemed unnecessary. Leaving Dixon with the other members of the party, the two motor boat boys hurried over to the bathing pavilion for their morning salt water swim.

It was just after one o’clock when the chums returned through the hotel office.

“Captain Halstead!” called the clerk.

Tom hastened over to the desk.

“You’re just in time, Captain. Here’s a letter registered for you, and under special delivery stamp. The young man just came in with it.”

“Let me have it quick, then, please,” Tom begged, turning upon the messenger from the Tampa post office.

“Sign, first,” requested the messenger.

This Tom did in a hurry, then seized upon his letter. It was postmarked at Tres Arbores, and the boy remembered the writing. The letter was from Clayton Randolph, and repeated, in a more emphatic manner, the news that the officer had already sent Halstead while he was at the lake.

“I’m sending this just as you ask,” Randolph ran on, “though I don’t suppose it’s necessary, because at the same time I sent you the other letter, I dropped one for Mr. Tremaine in the Tres Arbores post office. Of course he got it on his return to this town.”

“Of course he didn’t!” blazed Tom inwardly. “Oliver Dixon got the mail there, and he was smart enough to keep Randolph’s letter from ever reaching Mr. Tremaine.”

“Something interesting that you have?” smiled Joe, watching his chum’s face.

“Interesting?” palpitated Tom Halstead. “Well, rather! Now, where’s Mr. Tremaine?” – as the boys turned away from the desk.

“Speaking of angels,” returned Joe Dawson. “There he is coming in through the doorway yonder.”

“I’ve got to see him on the jump, then. Come along.”

“What’s this?” demanded Henry Tremaine, as Tom almost breathlessly thrust into his hands the letter just received.

“Read it,” begged Captain Halstead.

This the charter-man did, his face changing color as soon as he began to understand.

“Dixon?” he faltered. “Oh, impossible! Yet – confound it! The case does look black, doesn’t it? I must see Dixon, anyway. If this is injustice, then he must have a chance to prove his innocence at once.”

“Do you know where he is?” Halstead inquired.

“No; the ladies have just passed through to luncheon, and they sent me to find the young man. Now, I’m more than ever anxious to find him.”

Henry Tremaine looked worried, though he was not yet ready to believe Dixon certainly guilty. Tremaine’s nature was a large one; he was unsuspicious, usually. He hated to believe anyone guilty of real wickedness.

“Ah, good morning, Mr. Tremaine,” came, cordially, from Mr. Haight, the president of the bank, as that gentleman stepped inside from the porch.

“How do you do, Mr. Haight?” returned the perplexed Tremaine.

The bank president started to pass on, then turned.

“Oh, by the way, Mr. Tremaine, I was very glad to attend to your note this morning – ”

“My note?” demanded Tremaine.

“That is to say, the one you endorsed.”

“The note I endorsed?” gasped Henry Tremaine, paling. “Great Scott, man, who presented it?”

“Do you mean to tell me, sir, that you don’t know of a note presented to-day with your endorsement?” demanded President Haight, in great agitation.

“Great Scott, man, I don’t!” cried Henry; Tremaine. “And I’m still trying to find out who presented it.”

“Oliver Dixon,” rejoined Mr. Haight, in a sepulchral voice.

“Dixon? For how much?”

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

“Did he get the cash?”

“Good heavens, yes!” gasped Mr. Haight, now fully understanding that the whole transaction had been wrong.

“In real money?” insisted Tremaine, on whose forehead the cold ooze now began to stand out.

“Yes, sir; in banknotes. Don’t tell me, Tremaine, that your endorsement was forged.”

“But it was! I have endorsed no notes for anybody.”

“Yet, if it wasn’t your signature, it was as good as a photograph of your writing,” gasped Mr. Haight.

“Oh, Dixon has seen enough of my signature. He had no difficulty in getting plenty of material in that line to copy. Oh – the miserable scoundrel!”

Tom and Joe had heard this conversation quite unnoticed by either of the distracted gentlemen.

“One thing,” cried Tremaine, hoarsely; “I don’t believe the fellow can get far away from here before we can overtake him. This early discovery is most fortunate!”

“He can’t get a train away before four o’clock,” broke in Tom Halstead, energetically. “But he might get some kind of a craft out of Port Tampa. Hadn’t you better get on the ’phone, quickly, and inform the police! Also, you might inquire of the two station agents whether Dixon has bought a ticket away from Tampa.”

“Yes! And you and Joe Dawson hustle over the hotel! We must get hold of this precious, unmasked rascal! Come along, Haight!”

“I guess Dixon stock has dropped,” uttered Joe, grimly, as the two motor boat boys hurried away.

As they were passing the entrance to the dining room they encountered Mrs. Tremaine and Ida Silsbee coming out.

“We couldn’t wait for the rest of you,” confessed Mrs. Tremaine. “We’ve lunched. But – what on earth – ?”

“Oliver Dixon,” spoke Tom, in a cautious undertone, “has presented a note for fifty thousand dollars at the bank, with Mr. Tremaine’s endorsement forged on the note. It is feared he has gotten away with the money.”

Joe, not caring to lose any time, had darted on ahead.

“Why – I – I – never believed him such a scoundrel,” gasped Mrs. Tremaine, paling. She sank into a chair, trembling.

“The villain had the audacity, last night, to ask me to marry him,” murmured Ida, in a low tone, clenching her hands tightly.

“I know it,” confessed Tom, bluntly. “I was in that room, behind the draperies. I meant to reveal myself, but it was all out, and you two turned from the room before I could decide what to do. Oh, I felt miserably ashamed of myself for my eavesdropping.”

“You couldn’t help it, and you needn’t be ashamed,” retorted Ida Silsbee. “Tom, I’m heartily glad I had a witness to my good judgment.”

“I’ve got his trail,” called Joe, softly, running back to join them. “Dixon left twenty-five minutes ago, on a train going out from the spur at this hotel.”

“Then he must have gone to Port Tampa,” breathed Tom, tensely.

“Yes – to the port,” Joe Dawson nodded.

“Then we’ve got to find Mr. Tremaine like lightning. There’s a speed cruiser for charter down at the port. Dixon may even now be hustling away on her,” cried Captain Halstead, springing away. “If he has done that he can land on some wild part of the coast of Mexico, or transfer to some ship bound for South America. The earth may swallow him up – him and his booty!”

Leaving the ladies where they had first met them, the boys raced to the telephone exchange. Here they encountered Tremaine and the bank president.

“There’s just one thing to do, then,” responded Henry Tremaine. “I’ll arrange for a special engine on the jump. Haight, you get a couple of local officers here in a hurry. This is a felony charge, so they won’t have to wait for warrants.”

In a few moments the local railway and police officials were busy. A locomotive was quickly awaiting the party on the siding, where it was coupled to a day coach. Two policemen in plain clothes arrived in an automobile.

“Remember, I’m going with you,” cried Mrs. Tremaine, with more energy than she had shown in years. “So is Ida. The poor child can’t be left behind to wonder what luck we’re having.”

There wasn’t even time to object to taking the ladies along. They hurried into the car, and the locomotive started, with a clear track ahead.

“One little detail I haven’t found time to tell you, yet,” panted Mr. Haight, after the engine had started down the single track to Port Tampa. “Dixon also cashed with me a check for nine thousand dollars.”

“On the Ninth National, of New York?” Halstead asked.

“Yes.”

“Then I guess the check part is good, as far as you’re concerned,” nodded Tremaine. “The nine thousand is probably part of the ten thousand that the fellow stole from my stateroom on the ‘Restless’ and sent to New York. Halstead has just put me straight on that matter.”

“Then he stole that money from your trunk?” asked Mrs. Tremaine, opening her eyes very wide.

“Yes, my dear; we’ve every reason to think so. But tell me, Haight, how did you come to cash that note so promptly – so – er – easily?”

“Why, you told me, only yesterday, my dear Tremaine, that you’d cheerfully endorse any commercial paper that Dixon had or chose to present,” replied the bank president.

Henry Tremaine groaned.

“That’s what comes of my being so cursed good-natured and obliging,” he muttered, with a ghastly smile. “Now, see here, Haight, if it comes to the worst, and your bank is up against a big loss, I’ll stand by what I said yesterday. But I’m fairly itching to lay my fingers on Oliver Dixon. The – ”

He stopped immediately, aware of the presence of the ladies.

“I beg your pardon, my dear, and Ida,” said Tremaine. “I’m so angry that I almost let violent language escape me.”

As the train sped along, with a clear track ahead and no stops necessary, Mr. Haight went on to explain:

“Dixon told me he had closed negotiations for a fine place a little way outside of Tampa; that he needed some of the cash for paying for the place, and the rest to turn over to a contractor so that improvements on the place could start at once. It all sounded fearfully plausible; and, with your ready and extensive guarantee for young Dixon – ”

“Please don’t remind me of my idiocy again until I’ve had time to pull up a notch,” begged Tremaine.

The two Tampa officers had seated themselves together at the forward end of the car. They were lean, quiet men, of undying nerve, and crack shots in the moment of need.

It did not take long to haul the one-car special down to the port. As the train began to run out onto the long mole, all hands in the car crowded at the forward doorway.

Before the engine came to a full stop Tom Halstead and Joe Dawson were off and running at a great burst of speed for the extreme end of the mole. Halstead was the first to gain it.

“The ‘Buzzard’ is gone from anchorage,” he cried, as his gaze swept the harbor.

“That little bit of hull we can see away down past the harbor looks like the ‘Buzzard’ heading south,” declared Joe.

“It must be,” nodded Tom Halstead. “But Jeff will very likely know.”

A busily-throbbing little naphtha launch was hovering close in the water.

“Hurry in for a fare, can you?” shouted Captain Halstead, framing his mouth with his hands.

The launch turned in at the float, and by this time the other members of the party had hastened up.

“Out to the ‘Restless’, and give your whistle head enough so that our man on board will hear you,” cried Tom, as the launch cast off.

In response to the screeches of the whistle Jeff Randolph soon appeared on the deck of the motor cruiser, waving his arms in answer.

“Get everything ready for a lightning start!” yelled the young skipper over the water. This Joe supplemented with some strenuous signals.

“Do you know whether that’s the ‘Buzzard’ vanishing to the southward?” demanded young Captain Halstead, the instant he clambered over the side.

“Yes; it is,” nodded Jeff, promptly.

CHAPTER XXII
KICKING WATER IN THE WAKE OF THE “BUZZARD.”

“DID you see what passengers she carried?” added Tom Halstead, breathless with suspense.

“A young man. I didn’t note him particularly at the distance,” Jeff Randolph drawled.

“Could it have been Oliver Dixon!”

“Why, yes, about his build, though the distance was considerable, and the fellow’s back was turned this way as he went on board.”

“Just one passenger went to the ‘Buzzard’, eh?” broke in Henry Tremaine.

“All I noticed,” confessed Jeff. “I wasn’t paying particular attention.”

Joe, in the meantime, had made a straight break down into the motor room. Now his engines were running.

“Lay out forward, here, Jeff, to help me stow the anchor away,” called the youthful skipper. One of the Tampa officers also aided.

“Crowd the speed on, Joe, as fast as you properly can,” shouted down Halstead as he took his place at the wheel.

Almost with a jump the “Restless” started. The boat supposed to be the “Buzzard” was now about hull-down. Her solitary signal mast would be a hard thing to keep in sight across an interval of several miles.

By this time Jeff Randolph was in possession of the main facts. He knew they were in frenzied pursuit of Oliver Dixon, who was believed to carry with him some sixty thousand dollars, in all, that Henry Tremaine stood to lose.

Now that President Haight knew his bank did not stand to lose a large sum, because of Tremaine’s unfaltering guarantee, the bank man was no longer near a state of collapse. Still, he keenly felt Tremaine’s suspense.

“I’ll never be such a fool again,” muttered Tremaine, to his wife. “I’ll never go security for anyone after this – not even my brother.”

“I can’t understand why you were so easy over the loss of the first ten thousand dollars,” murmured his wife.

“That was because I believed the whole matter would come out presently. I didn’t want to suspect Halstead, and I didn’t want to suspect young Oliver Dixon. So I didn’t know where the lightning might hit. Rather than stir up trouble I preferred to wait and see what the developments would be. Ten thousand dollars I could stand the loss of, if I had to, but sixty thousand – ”

The “Restless” was kicking the water at a furious gait, now, but Captain Halstead groaned when he realized that the “Buzzard” had succeeded in taking her hull wholly out of sight.

“Mr. Tremaine, I’ll have to press you into service,” called the young sailing master, firmly.

“Yes; do give me something to do,” begged the charter-man, stepping up beside the wheel.

“The ‘Buzzard’ is now so far away, sir, that I’m not quite sure whether I can see her signal mast or not. Sometimes I think I do; at other times I’m in doubt. You might take the marine glass, sir, and see if you can pick up that mast and keep it in sight.”

“Indeed, I will,” breathed Tremaine, anxiously.

“Joe,” Captain Tom called down through the forward hatchway, “kick on every bit of speed you can crowd out of the motors. We’ve got to hump faster.”

“If I go much faster,” called Joe, dryly, “I’ll blow out a cylinder head.”

“Take a chance,” Halstead urged. “We’ve got to crawl up on that other craft.”

“I can make out her signal mast,” announced Henry Tremaine.

“Then keep that stick in sight, sir. There’s one nasty trick the ‘Buzzard’ might play on us if she got far enough in the lead,” explained the young skipper.

“What trick is that?”

“If she’s running close enough to shore, she might succeed in putting Dixon on land, then the ‘Buzzard’ could head out on her cruise again. If that happened, every throb of our propellers would be carrying us further and further from Oliver Dixon and his booty.”

“Good heavens, yes!” agreed Tremaine. “Well, I’m holding that signal mast steadily.”

“Does she seem to be nearing land?”

“Not yet. I judge her course to be southward.”

“Let me have the glass a second,” begged Halstead, jamming the wheel spokes with his knees as he reached out for the glass.

He took a long, intent look.

“Yes; she’s holding her southerly course,” Tom declared.

“Are we going to catch up with her!”

“I don’t know, yet,” Halstead admitted. “The ‘Buzzard’ is a fast boat. Whether we can catch up with her only the next two hours can tell. We’ve got a mighty good boat under our feet, Mr. Tremaine.”

“We need one!” cried that gentleman.

It being none of their affair, particularly, for the present, the two Tampa officers were lounging in deck chairs aft, smoking quietly. The ladies, however, stood just behind the men, as close to the bridge deck as they could keep without interfering with the handling of the craft.

“Let me have the glass again, please,” begged Halstead, ten minutes later. “Yes, I thought so,” he continued, after looking. “That line on the water near the horizon is the ‘Buzzard’s’ hull showing once more. Then we must be creeping up on her.”

“Want me to take the wheel, Cap’n, for a spell?” – hinted Jeff Randolph.

“Not just now,” vouchsafed Tom Halstead. “Just now straight steering counts for as much as the speed of the propellers. You may be a better helmsman than I, by a good deal, but I can’t take a single chance for the next hour.”

In the next half hour, during which the Tampa harbor was left far behind, the hull ahead loomed up no larger. It remained an all but indistinct line on the horizon.

“If Mr. Dixon is on that boat, do you think he knows we’re after him?” Ida Silsbee asked.

“He must have more than a suspicion,” Tom Halstead grinned.

“What an awful feeling his must be, then!” exclaimed the girl, shuddering.

“Are you sorry for him!” asked Mrs. Tremaine, slowly.

“Only in the sense that I’m sorry for any man who yields to the temptation to turn thief,” replied the girl, slowly.

As Joe Dawson thrust his head up through the hatchway his chum at the wheel could see that the young engineer was much disturbed.

“Are we crowding your motors too hard, Joe?” inquired Halstead.

“They’re mighty warm,” Dawson admitted.

“Any danger of exploding a lot of gasoline gas?” demanded Henry Tremaine.

“I won’t just say that,” replied Joe, hesitatingly. “But – ”

“But what?”

“If I keep up this overheating one or both of the motors may be put out of business.”

“Is that all?”

“It would ruin a pair of good engines.”

“If that’s all, boys,” responded Tremaine, “don’t let it worry you. If you hurt any engines, or damage your boat in any way, I’ll make good for it. I want to catch Dixon, and get that stolen money back. But, above money and every other consideration – at no matter what expense – I feel that I must overtake and punish the man who so fearfully abused my confidence and trust!”