KEEPING HIS COURSE
By Ralph Henry Barbour
PURPLE PENNANT SERIES
The Lucky Seventh
The Secret Play
The Purple Pennant
YARDLEY HALL SERIES
Forward Pass
Double Play
Winning His Y
For Yardley
Around the End
Change Signals
HILTON SERIES
The Half-back
For the Honor of the School
Captain of the Crew
ERSKINE SERIES
Behind the Line
Weatherby’s Inning
On Your Mark
THE “BIG FOUR” SERIES
Four in Camp
Four Afoot
Four Afloat
THE GRAFTON SERIES
Rivals for the Team
Winning His Game
Hitting the Line
BOOKS NOT IN SERIES
Keeping His Course
The Brother of a Hero
Finkler’s Field
Danforth Plays the Game
Benton’s Venture
The Junior Trophy
The New Boy at Hilltop
The Spirit of the School
The Arrival of Jimpson
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, Publishers, New York
[Illustration: “Hold on! Isn’t that a sort of a light over there?”]
KEEPING
HIS COURSE
BY
RALPH HENRY BARBOUR
AUTHOR OF
“HITTING THE LINE,” “WINNING HIS GAME,”
“RIVALS FOR THE TEAM,” ETC.
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATED BY
WALT LOUDERBACK
D. APPLETON & COMPANY
NEW YORK LONDON
1918
Copyright, 1918, by
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
Copyright, 1916, by
The Commercial Advertiser Association
Printed in the United States of America
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. TOBY RESENTS AN INSULT 1
II. THE _Turnover_ 13
III. ARNOLD PAYS HIS DEBTS 26
IV. FRIENDS AFLOAT 36
V. SHOTS IN THE DARK 49
VI. PURSUIT AND CAPTURE 62
VII. THE STOLEN LAUNCH 75
VIII. THE HIDDEN NAME 88
IX. “THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD!” 100
X. TOBY BLOCKS THE PLATE 112
XI. TOBY MAKES UP HIS MIND 125
XII. “T. TUCKER, PROP.” 143
XIII. TRICK FOR TRICK 155
XIV. TOBY IS DOWNHEARTED 170
XV. PHEBE CHRISTENS THE KNOCKABOUT 181
XVI. LOST IN THE FOG 193
XVII. THE LIGHTED WINDOW 206
XVIII. MR. TUCKER CONSENTS 220
XIX. TOBY ACCEPTS A CHALLENGE 230
XX. A CLOSE CALL 243
XXI. THE DISTRESS SIGNAL 261
XXII. INTO PORT 273
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
“Hold on! Isn’t that a sort of a light over there?” _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
“We’ve gained like anything, Arn!” 66
Toby pegged hard to Tim 122
He consumed a large piece of apple pie 254
KEEPING HIS COURSE
CHAPTER I
TOBY RESENTS AN INSULT
A boy with light blue eyes that just about matched the slightly hazy
June sky sat on the float below the town landing at Greenhaven, L. I.,
and stared thoughtfully across harbor and bay to where, two miles
northward, the village of Johnstown stretched along the farther shore.
He had a round, healthy, and deeply tanned face of which a short nose,
many freckles, the aforementioned blue eyes, and a somewhat square chin
were prominent features. There was, of course, a mouth, as well, and
that, too, was prominent just now, for it was puckered with the little
tune that the boy was softly whistling. Under a sailor’s hat of white
canvas the hair was brown, but a brown that only escaped being red by
the narrowest of margins. That fact was a sore subject with Toby Tucker.
Perhaps had his hair been really and truly red, beyond all question, he
wouldn’t have minded being called “Ginger” and “Carrots” and “Sorrel
Top” and “Red Head” and all the other names frequently――but usually
from a safe distance――bestowed on him. Perhaps it was the injustice of
it that hurt. That as may be, a hint that Toby’s hair was red――or even
reddish――was equivalent to a declaration of war, and entailed similar
consequences! He wore, besides the duck hat, a sailor’s jacket of like
material, a pair of khaki trousers, and brown canvas “sneakers.” You
wouldn’t have called him “smartly dressed,” perhaps, but what he wore
seemed to suit him and was, at least, clean.
From where he sat, perched on a box labeled “Sunny South Brand
Tomatoes,” he had a clear view of Spanish Harbor, and beyond its mouth
a wide expanse of Great Peconic Bay. Beyond that again lay the green
fields and low, wooded hills of the north shore. A coal barge, which
had lately discharged her cargo at Rollinson’s Wharf, was anchored in
the middle channel, awaiting a tug. Nearer at hand were a half-dozen
pleasure sailboats, a blunt-nosed, drab-hued fishing sloop, and a
black launch, all tugging gently at their moorings on the incoming
tide. On either side of the float a little company of rowboats and
small launches rubbed sides. Behind him, the rusted iron wheels of the
gangplank, leading to the wharf above, creaked as the float swung to
the rising water.
Toby had the landing to himself. The box on which he sat held
provisions for the yacht _Penguin_, and some time around nine o’clock
a tender was to call for them. Toby, when school wasn’t in session,
did such odd jobs as fell to his hand, and just now, it being Saturday
morning, he was earning a whole quarter of a dollar from Perkins &
Howe, the grocers. Having propelled the box to the gangplank in a
wheelbarrow, and slid it down to its present resting place, all that
remained was to continue sitting right there until some one claimed it,
a task which suited Toby perfectly.
Not that he was especially lazy or disliked work, for he wasn’t
and didn’t, but it was pleasantly hot today, and Toby was in a
contemplative frame of mind, and sitting there in the sun, with
the water lapping beneath him and the good smell of the sea in his
nostrils, was very satisfying to Toby’s soul. The visions he saw with
those blue eyes of his, squinted a bit because of the glare on the
dancing water, must have been enthralling, since he didn’t observe the
white launch that entered the harbor until it was almost up to the
landing.
Then the chug-chug of her exhaust caught his attention, and he shaded
his eyes and observed her intently. She wasn’t very big, perhaps
eighteen feet over all, and she had a spray hood in lieu of cabin.
At present the hood was down, and Toby could see much mahogany and
polished brass as the launch sped, head on, for the landing. There was
only one passenger in sight, a boy of about Toby’s age, who stood at
the wheel in the bow. Toby, who knew most of the craft that entered
Spanish Harbor, failed to recognize this one. Nor did the name, in gilt
letters on her nose, make him any wiser.
“_Frolic_,” muttered Toby. “Never heard of her before. Must be a new
one. Wonder where that lubber thinks he’s going to? He’ll be on the
float in a minute if he doesn’t look out!”
When about forty feet away the boy in the launch threw the clutch into
reverse. There was much churning of green water under the stern, and
the boat’s speed lessened, but what with the impetus given her and
the incoming tide she seemed bound to either land high and dry on the
float or to considerably damage her immaculate white and gold bow. The
skipper dropped the wheel and looked excitedly around for a boat-hook.
“Sheer off, you idiot!” cried Toby, nimbly scrambling out of the way.
“Put your wheel over!”
“Grab her!” responded the boy in the launch. “Fend her off!”
Toby grunted. Then there was a crash, the float bobbed and shivered,
and the white launch, finding further progress barred, rebounded from
the obstacle in her path, and, leaving much fresh white paint on the
canvas fender, churned merrily backward. Simultaneously two boys, one
on the float and one in the launch, scrambled to their feet again and
broke into speech.
“Hey, you boob!” yelled Toby. “Look where you’re going! You’ll have her
stern into that dory in a minute. Shut off your engine!”
“Why didn’t you grab her?” demanded the boy in the launch angrily.
“Couldn’t you see she was going to hit?”
“I’d look nice trying to stop her, wouldn’t I?” countered Toby
contemptuously. “Why don’t you learn to run a launch before you come
around here destroying property? What were you trying to do, anyhow?
Climb the gangplank in her?”
“I couldn’t come in any way but straight on, could I? Look at all those
boats along the sides! Why don’t they give a fellow a chance to get up
here?”
“Well, you’re not expected to make your landing at sixty miles an hour,
you silly lubber. Here, hold that out and I’ll pull you in.”
Somewhat disgruntled, the amateur navigator proffered the end of the
boat-hook and in a jiffy the _Frolic_ was alongside. Toby returned
to his seat on the box and watched the other make fast. Conscious of
Toby’s ironical regard, the skipper of the _Frolic_ was flustered and
awkward, and twice got the line tangled around his feet. When he stood
up from his task, he was red of face and out of temper. “That suit your
highness?” he inquired.
Toby grinned. “Well, it ain’t customary in these parts to make a boat
fast with a square knot, but I guess she’ll hold.”
“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” sneered the other.
Toby made no reply to that, merely smiling in a most exasperating
manner. Presently, when the skipper of the _Frolic_ had laboriously
shoved the launch out of the way, he looked questioningly about the
landing.
“Where can I get gasoline?” he asked more affably.
Toby was maddeningly deliberate. “Gasoline?”
“Yes.”
“How much do you want?”
“What’s that got to do with it?” demanded the other impatiently.
“Well, if you want as much as ten gallons it would pay me to get it for
you.”
“I can get it myself if you’ll tell me where they keep it. Don’t they
have it here at this landing? Isn’t this the town landing?”
“Yes.” Toby looked around the float. “I don’t see any gasoline, though;
do you?”
“Well, then, where――――”
“You can get all you want at Tucker’s wharf over there.”
The other followed the direction of Toby’s pointing finger. “At the
boat yard you mean?”
Toby nodded. “Yes; just chug over there to the float where you see the
red tank.”
“Why couldn’t you tell me that before I tied up?”
“You didn’t ask me.” The other grunted and set about casting off again,
during which operation Toby studied him speculatively.
He saw a boy of perhaps a year his senior, and Toby was fifteen,
fairly tall, slim, and undeniably good looking. He had brown eyes
and brown hair, the latter slicked back in a way that was strange
and awe-inspiring to the observer, and his face, with its straight
nose and somewhat pointed chin, lacked the healthy coat of tan that
Toby’s possessed. Yes, he was a good looking chap, Toby decided, but a
most unpleasant and unlikable one. That fact, however, was not going
to prevent Toby from making a sale, and when the visitor had sprung
aboard, Toby glanced doubtfully at his box of groceries, swept the
harbor without seeing anything that looked like the tender from the
_Penguin_, and jumped lightly to the _Frolic_.
“I’ll go over with you and get it,” he said. “Where’s your boat-hook?
All right. Start her up!”
The other viewed him doubtfully. “What have you got to do with it?” he
asked, suspiciously.
“That’s my father’s wharf, and he’s busy up in the shed. If it’s
gasoline you want, I’m your man. Take her across easy now.”
The engine started at half-speed, and the _Frolic_ slid quietly away
from the town landing, past the end of the coal wharf, and across
the Cove to the boat-yard landing. This time the launch’s operator
performed his task more creditably and nestled up against the small
float with no more damage to her paint. While he made her fast Toby
sprang out and ran up the gangplank to the big red tank at the end of
the wharf.
“How much do you want?” he called back.
“About nine, I guess. My tank holds ten, and I think there’s almost a
gallon in it.”
“All right.” Toby held a five-gallon can under the faucet and when it
was full climbed down again and swung it to the bow of the launch.
“Look out for the paint,” requested the other boy. “Wait till I get the
funnel. Go ahead now.”
Toby poured the contents of the can into the tank and returned again to
the wharf. When the final four gallons had been added he set the can
back on the float and observed: “One ninety-eight, please.”
“One ninety―――― Say, how much do you charge a gallon?” exclaimed the
other, incredulously.
“Twenty-two cents. This is the best there is.”
“Twenty-two! Why, I only paid twenty in New York the other day!”
“You were lucky,” drawled Toby. “It’s twenty-two here. What you got
was low-grade, I guess.”
“Well, I don’t intend to pay any twenty-two cents. I’ll pay just what I
paid in New York. Here’s two dollars, and I want twenty cents change.”
Toby, hands in pockets, paid no heed to the proffered bill. Instead
he looked speculatively at the little round hole through which the
gasoline had disappeared. “It’s going to be hard to get it out of
there,” he mused. “Maybe we can do it with a pump, though.”
“Get it out? What for? Look here, twenty cents is enough and――――”
“Not when the price is twenty-two,” replied Toby decidedly. “We charge
the same as everywhere else here. You’d have paid twenty-two at the
town landing just the same.”
“At the town landing! You said they didn’t keep it there!”
“No, sir, I didn’t. I said I didn’t see any.” Toby grinned. “And I
didn’t, either. You can’t, from the float.”
“You’re a smart guy, aren’t you?” said the other angrily. “You make me
come away over here and then try to hold me up! Well, you can’t do it!
You fork over twenty cents and you’ll get this two dollars, you――you
red-headed cheat!”
Toby’s grin faded instantly. “What did you call me?” he asked very
quietly after a moment’s silence.
“You heard it! Now you find twenty cents and――――”
They were standing on the canvas-covered deck at the bow, a precarious
place at the best, with the launch rolling a bit, and not at all the
sort of place the _Frolic’s_ skipper would have selected for battle had
he been allowed a choice. But he wasn’t, for his naughty remarks were
rudely interrupted, rudely and unexpectedly! With something between a
grunt and a snarl, Toby threw himself upon him.
“Take it back!” he panted. “’Tain’t red, and you know it!”
The older boy gave way before the sudden assault, tried to wrest his
arms free from Toby’s grip, failed at that, and, bringing his greater
weight to bear, forced the other back across the tiny decking. They
struggled and panted, only the rubber soles they wore keeping them from
going overboard.
“Let me alone, you silly ass!” grunted the older youth. “We’ll both be
in the water in a second.”
“Take it back, then!” panted Toby. “’Tain’t red, is it?”
“Yes, it is! It’s red as――as fire!” He wrenched an arm free and struck
out angrily. The blow missed, and Toby caught at the arm, trying now
to trip his opponent up. But the law of gravity cannot be trifled with
forever, and what was bound to happen sooner or later happened right
then. Toby’s leg worked behind the other; he bore back and――over they
went, still tightly clasped together, with a splash that awoke the
echoes of the Cove!