AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY
"Don't let him worry you," said Mr. Dunn consolingly. "He's a surly
fellow, and he's always interfering in my department."
"But the captain may discharge me," replied Nat. "Still, I am sure
those boxes came aboard. I counted them carefully and I don't believe
I would be ten out of the way."
"Of course not. Probably the mate stowed them in some other place and
he's forgotten all about it. They'll turn up."
"I hope so, for I would not like to make a mistake the first day out."
At that moment a deckhand came up to where Nat stood talking to the
purser.
"Captain wants to see you," he said to the boy.
"Don't get excited now," advised Mr. Dunn. "Here, take our checking
list with you and tell the captain exactly how it happened. If you are
sure the boxes came aboard say so--and stick to it."
"I will," answered Nat, and, with rather an uneasy feeling, he went
aft to where the captain's cabin was located.
He found the mate there, looking quite excited, while Captain Marshall
was far from calm. Evidently there had been high words between the
men.
"What is this, Nat?" asked the captain. "The mate says he is short ten
boxes. You have them on your list as coming aboard, but they are not
to be found. You know that will make trouble, to have anything wrong
with the cargo."
"I'm sure nothing is wrong," replied Nat. "I went over my list
carefully, and I am positive the boxes are on board."
"And I say they're not," insisted the mate. "I guess I've been in this
business long enough to know more than a green lad who has only been
here a day."
"You want to be careful, Nat," went on Captain Marshall. "I have
always depended on Mr. Bumstead in regard to matters connected with
the stowing of the cargo."
"I am sure those boxes are aboard, sir," went on Nat firmly. "If you
will allow me to take a look I think I can find them."
"What! Go through all the cargo after it's stowed away!" exclaimed the
angry mate. "I guess not much! I'll not allow it!"
The door of the cabin opened and there entered the pilot, Mr.
Weatherby. He started back on seeing the mate and Nat.
"Oh, excuse me," he said. "I didn't know you had any one in here,
Captain Marshall."
"That's all right, come right in," replied the commander. "There's a
little difficulty between Nat and Mr. Bumstead, and I'm trying to
straighten it out."
He related what had taken place, and told of the missing boxes.
"And there you are," he finished. "It seems to be quite a mix-up, and
I'm sorry, for I like to keep my cargo and the records of it
straight."
"Hum," murmured the pilot. "Mr. Bumstead says the boxes are not here,
and Nat says they came aboard, eh? Well, I should think the easiest
way would be to look and see if they are here or not."
"That's what I proposed," exclaimed Nat eagerly.
"Yes! I guess I'll have you disturbing the whole cargo to look for ten
small boxes!" exclaimed the mate. "Not much I won't! I'm right, and I
know it!"
"No, I think Nat is right," said Mr. Weatherby quietly.
"Do you mean to tell me I made a mistake?" inquired Mr. Bumstead.
"I don't know whether you did or not. But I know Nat's plan is the
only one that can decide the matter. If the boxes came aboard the
last thing, they can't be very far down among the rest of the cargo.
It will not take long to look. What do you say, captain?"
Captain Marshall was in a sort of quandary. The mate was his chief
officer, and he wanted to be on his side because Mr. Bumstead owned
some shares in the ship, and also because Mr. Bumstead relieved the
commander of a lot of work that, otherwise, would have fallen to the
share of the captain. On the other hand Mr. Marshall did not want to
offend the pilot. In addition to being a relative of his, Mr.
Weatherby was one of the stockholders in the company which owned the
steamer _Jessie Drew_, and, as the captain was an employee of this
company, he did not want to oppose one of the officers of it.
"I suppose that's the only way out of it," the captain finally said,
though with no very good grace. "Only the whole cargo must not be
upset looking for those boxes."
"I'll be careful," promised Nat. "I think I know where they were
stowed."
"Um! You think you do, but you'll soon find you're much mistaken!"
said the mate scornfully.
"I'll give you a hand," said the pilot. "Mr. Simmon, my helper, is in
the pilot-house," he went on, in answer to a questioning glance from
Captain Marshall. "The ship is on a straight course now, and we'll
hold it for an hour or two. Now, Nat, come on, and we'll see if we
can't solve this puzzle."
It did not take long to demonstrate that Nat was right, and the mate
wrong. The ten boxes were found in the afterhold, where they had been
put by mistake, which accounted for the mate not being able to find
them.
"What have you to say now?" asked the pilot of Mr. Bumstead, when the
search was so successfully ended.
"What have I to say? Nothing, except that I think you did a mean thing
when you got this boy in here, and kept my nephew out of the place,
which he needs so much. But I'll get even with him yet for coming
here." It appeared the mate's protest to Captain Marshall, about
employing Nat, had been of no effect.
"I guess Nat needed a place to work as much as did your nephew,"
replied Mr. Weatherby, when his _protege_ had gone back to the
purser's cabin. "His father is dead, and you ought to be glad that the
orphan son of an old lake sailor has a chance to earn his living,
instead of making it hard for him."
"Was his father a lake sailor?" asked the mate quickly.
"Yes. Nat's father was James Morton, who was employed on a lumber
barge."
"James Morton! On a lumber barge!" exclaimed the mate, turning pale.
"Are you sure of that?"
"Certainly. But what of it? Did you know Mr. Morton?"
"Jim Morton," murmured the mate. "I might have recognized the name. So
his son is aboard this vessel! I must do something, or----"
"What was that you said?" asked the pilot, who had not caught the
mate's words.
"Nothing--I--er--I thought I used to know his father--but--but it must
be another man."
The mate was clearly very much excited over something.
"Now look here!" exclaimed Mr. Weatherby sternly. "Nat is not to blame
for coming here. I got him the place, and I'll look out for him, too.
If you try any of your tricks I'll take a hand in the game myself.
Now, I've given you your course, and I want you to keep on it. If you
run afoul of me you'll be sorry for it."
The mate turned aside, muttering to himself, but the pilot thought it
was because he had made a mistake about the boxes.
"Look out for him, Nat," said Mr. Weatherby, a little later, after the
pilot had reported to the captain the result of the search for the
missing boxes. "He seems to have some grudge against you, and he'll do
you an injury if he can."
"I believe that," replied Nat, "though I can't see why he should. I
never injured him, and it was not my fault that I got the place he
wanted for his nephew."
"No, of course not. But keep your weather eye open."
"I will."
Captain Marshall showed no very great pleasure at finding that Nat was
in the right. The truth was he feared the mate would be chagrined over
the mistake he himself had made, and Captain Marshall was the least
bit afraid of Mr. Bumstead, for the commander knew the mate was aware
of certain shortcomings in regard to the management of the vessel, and
he feared his chief officer might disclose them.
"You want to be careful of your lists," the commander said to Nat.
"You were right this time, but next time you might be wrong."
Nat's pleasure at finding he had not made a mistake was a little
dampened by the cool way in which the captain took it, but Mr.
Weatherby told him not to mind, but to do his work as well as he
could, and he would get along all right.
For two or three days after that the voyage proceeded quietly. On the
third day the ship stopped at a small city, where part of the cargo
was discharged. Nat and the purser were kept busy checking off, and
verifying cargo lists, and, when the _Jessie Drew_ was ready to
proceed, Nat took to the mate a duplicate list of what cargo had been
discharged.
"Sure this is right?" asked Mr. Bumstead surlily.
"Yes, sir," replied Nat, more pleasantly than he felt.
"Don't be too sure, young man. I'll catch you in a mistake yet, and
when I do--well, look out--that's all."
He tossed the list on his desk, and, as he did so, some papers slipped
to the floor of his office. He stooped to pick them up, and something
dropped from his pocket.
It was a flat leather book, such as is used by some men in which to
carry their money or papers. Nat idly glanced at it as the mate
restored it to his pocket. Then the boy caught sight of something that
made his heart beat quickly.
For printed in gold letters on the outside of the wallet was a name,
and the name was that of his dead father, James Morton!
"That pocketbook! Where did you get it?" he eagerly asked of the mate.
"Pocketbook? What pocketbook?"
"The one that dropped from your pocket just now."
"That? Why, that's mine. I've had it a good while."
"But it has my father's name on it! I saw it. It is just like one he
used to carry. He always had it with him. Let me see it. Perhaps it
has some of his papers in it!"
Nat was excited. He reached out his hand, as if to take the wallet.
"You must be dreaming," exclaimed the mate, and Nat noticed that his
hands trembled. "That is my pocketbook. It has no name on it."
"But I saw it," insisted Nat.
"I tell you it hasn't! Are you always going to dispute with me? Now
get out of here, I want to do my work," and the mate fairly thrust Nat
out of the room, and locked the door.
"I'm sure that was my father's pocketbook," murmured the boy, as he
walked slowly along the deck. "How did the mate get it? I wonder if he
knew my father? There is something queer about this. I must tell Mr.
Weatherby."
Nat would have thought there was something exceedingly queer about it,
if he could have seen what the mate was doing just then. For Mr.
Bumstead had taken the wallet from his pocket, and, with his knife, he
was carefully scraping away the gold letters that spelled the name of
James Morton--Nat's father.