CAPTAIN CARTER
“A fine Scout I prove to be!” Warwick berated himself. “Why, I’ve messed
up the expedition to Peru! Without that translation, there may be no
trip.”
The other three Rovers knew that War might be right about the
expedition. However, careless as he had been in leaving the manuscript
unguarded, they did not blame him.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Ken said, to make him feel better. “We all fell
for that telephone gag.”
“Whoever took that translation can’t be far from here,” Warwick
muttered. “Why, I wasn’t away from this table five minutes, if that
long.”
As the four Explorers searched the terrace floor, a waiter came over to
inquire if anything had been lost. Jack told him about the missing
papers and asked if anyone had visited the table during their absence.
The waiter recalled that a man had stopped there for a moment and then
had left the terrace.
“Can you describe him?” Willie asked eagerly.
“He was heavy set, deeply tanned. Why, there he is now—leaving the hotel
grounds.”
The waiter indicated the retreating figure of a stockily built man,
dimly outlined against the dark shrubbery. The stranger moved swiftly,
away from the terrace.
“He’s the one who snatched the parchment!” War exclaimed with instant
conviction. “Let’s nail him!”
To the dismay of the waiter, the four Explorers leaped nimbly over the
terrace railing onto the lawn below.
By this time the man they pursued was midway across the hotel grounds.
Unaware that anyone followed, he paused beside a tall evergreen and bent
over as if to place something at its base. Now that the stranger was
beyond the reflection of the terrace lights, the Scouts could not
discern his movements clearly.
“He’s pitching that manuscript!” Warwick whispered. “Let’s grab him
quick!”
“We can circle in from behind,” Ken advised. “Be quiet and careful.”
“We might be making a mistake,” Jack advised uneasily, but the others
did not heed.
Moving softly through the darkness, they suddenly surrounded the
stranger. War grabbed him firmly by the arm.
“We got you, mister!” he asserted. “Hand over that manuscript!”
The man pulled angrily away. He was powerfully built, with a
close-cropped head of chestnut colored hair. Ken and Willie moved in
close, cutting off all possible escape.
“Manuscript!” the stranger exclaimed. “What are you blubbering about
anyhow? What’s the big idea?”
“You know well enough!” War accused. “You took that translation from our
hotel table just now!”
“Say, are you kids crazy?”
“We want those papers,” War insisted. “Hand ’em over!”
“You little hoodlum, you!” the man snarled. “If you don’t stop pawing in
my pants pocket, I’ll sock you! I’ve had enough of this!”
“Maybe you can explain what you were hiding by this evergreen,” Willie
suggested pointedly.
“Well, jar my rigging! You kids have got bats in the belfry! I was
looking for my wristwatch.”
“Your wristwatch!” War said scornfully, “That’s good!”
“The strap unfastened and it slipped off. It’s here somewhere.”
Taking no part in the conversation, Jack had devoted himself to
inspecting the ground beneath the evergreen.
“Is this your watch, sir?” he inquired, holding up the shiny object.
“It is! I hope you realize now that you’ve made a blasted mistake.”
“But—I was sure—” Warwick stammered, completely deflated. “The waiter
said he saw you at our table on the terrace. Maybe you’ll explain what
you were doing there.”
“I went to the terrace to see a guy named George Livingston. They told
me that was his table. No one there. Only empty dishes. So I left.”
“You were to see Mr. Livingston?” Jack repeated. “Then you must be—”
“Captain Carter. Captain Edmund Carter, skipper of the _Shark_.”
“Jumping hop toads!” War muttered. “I—I guess I’ve made another bad
mistake.”
The captain’s laugh was unpleasant. “I should complain to the police,”
he said. “But forget it. No use getting one’s wind up over trifles.”
“That’s very decent of you,” Jack replied. “We apologize, Captain
Carter.”
“It was an unfortunate mistake,” added Ken. “Happy—Mr. Livingston had
shown us the parchment translation. We left it on the table when we were
called away, and it disappeared.”
“So you tag me?”
“It was a mistake,” Jack said patiently. “By the way, when you stopped
at our table, did you see the manuscript?”
“Oh, so now you want to put me through the third degree! It’s not enough
that you grab me from behind and maul me?”
“We’re only trying to learn what became of a very valuable property,”
Jack answered, carefully holding his temper in check.
“Son, I didn’t see your papers or whatever it was you lost. Get that
straight?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, that’s settled. Now do you know where I’ll find this character,
Livingston?”
Jack resented the captain’s manner of referring to the Scout leader. He
answered briefly. “He’s at the hotel.”
“Can you take me to him?”
“I guess so.”
“Then cast off,” Captain Carter ordered. “We’ll forget that you tried to
manhandle me. Lucky for you I got a milk-and-honey disposition.”
Unconcerned by the Scouts’ loss of the manuscript, the seaman strode
down the path toward the hotel.
In the darkness, he could not see the faces of the four Rovers which all
too plainly mirrored their private thoughts as to the captain’s
“milk-and-honey” temperament.
At the hotel once more, the boys could not find Mr. Livingston in the
lobby. Somewhat puzzled by his prolonged absence, they returned to their
original table with the captain.
As he studied the menu, the Explorers were able to examine his ruddy,
unfriendly face. A jagged scar marred his left cheek. As for his dark
eyes, they had a quick trick of shifting, and never seemed to return a
steady, even gaze.
Willie, trying hard to make conversation, said: “You must know a lot
about Peru, Captain Carter.”
“I’m wondering—” Jack began, and broke off.
“Have you been there often?”
“Too often.”
“It must be an interesting country.”
“Lousy,” the captain growled. “Three areas—coastal, the sierra region
and the heavily forested slopes that lead to the Amazonian plains. Rain,
heat, freezing cold. Lima, the capital, ain’t so bad. They ought to
chuck the rest of the country into the Pacific.”
“Oh, it can’t be that bad,” Ken protested. “I hope not, because we’re
going there with Mr. Livingston.”
Captain Carter laid aside his menu and stared directly at Ken. In that
unguarded moment, concern and hostility were reflected in his lined
face.
“You mean I got to nursemaid a bunch of kids?” he demanded.
“That’s an unflattering way of putting it,” Ken replied. “We’ve never
been to Peru, but we’re not softies.”
“I’ll vouch for that,” said a voice directly behind the captain.
Unnoticed, Mr. Livingston had crossed the terrace to the table.
“Oh, here you are!” exclaimed Jack in relief. “We couldn’t find you
anywhere, Mr. Livingston.”
“I see you’re in good company,” replied the Scout leader, shaking hands
with Captain Carter. “Sorry to have been held up. Anything wrong?”
“Plenty,” Warwick answered. Without mentioning the unfortunate episode
with Captain Carter, he told of the manuscript’s disappearance.
The loss plainly startled the Scout leader. Nevertheless, he said very
little and did not blame Warwick.
“Don’t worry about it,” he advised the Scouts. “I’m mighty sorry to lose
the translation, but if we’re lucky enough to find that old missionary
who made it, we should be able to duplicate the information.”
As Captain Carter ate his dinner, the Scouts listened attentively to his
talk with Mr. Livingston. The seaman ignored them entirely as he
discussed details of the proposed trip.
“According to the arrangement, I’ll be off for Peru next week,” he
growled. “See to it that all your heavy supplies are at the dock ready
for loading on the _Shark_ by noon of the sixth.”
“Everything will be there,” Mr. Livingston promised. “We’ll follow next
month by plane and meet your boat at the coastal port of Cuertos.
Right?”
“Right,” the captain scowled. “I’m warning you though, this is no
expedition for a bunch o’ kids.”
“The Explorers are well seasoned,” Mr. Livingston returned. “They’re
tough and efficient. I know I can depend on them. That’s why I told Mr.
Monahan I wouldn’t attempt the search for his brother without their
help.”
“That’s a laugh! If you run afoul of a tribe of wild Indians, you figure
to hold ’em at bay with your Scout knives?”
“I doubt that would be our way, captain. There are methods of handling a
situation that do not involve force.”
“Yeah? Well, give me my two fists or a round of ammunition!” Captain
Carter had finished his dinner. He shoved back his chair. “I’ll be going
now,” he announced. “My job is to get your supplies through to Cuertos
on time. The _Shark_ will be there. Just don’t come cryin’ to me when
the going gets rough!”
With barely a nod to the four Scouts, the seaman left the terrace.
Without comment, Mr. Livingston settled the bill for all the dinners.
“Pleasant character,” Jack remarked. “Tough as an old lanyard knot!”
“I wonder where Mr. Monahan found him?” speculated Ken.
“Captain Carter introduced himself—sold the expedition, so to speak. He
knows Peru thoroughly.”
“He certainly took a dislike to us,” Jack commented. “Not that I blame
him too much.”
War himself related to Mr. Livingston how he had mistaken the captain
for a thief.
“I sure am sorry I jumped him the way I did,” he said contritely. “I
guess I’m in the doghouse now.”
“No such thing,” the Scout leader smiled. “You acted a bit impulsively,
without thinking through the situation. Next time you’ll react more
wisely.”
“You still want me to make the trip?”
“I certainly do.”
“Thanks,” War said, his eyes shining. “I’ll do my best to prove worthy.
I’m going to try to find out what became of that missing manuscript.”
“That’s a job for all of us,” Jack amended. “We’re all equally
responsible for the loss.”
Before leaving the hotel, Mr. Livingston and the Rovers talked to
several of the waiters and other diners. No one had seen any person
except Captain Carter visit their table.
“I’m wondering—” Jack began, and broke off.
“Wondering what, Jack?” prompted Mr. Livingston.
“Well, maybe my suspicions are unfounded. But it hit me that maybe we
made a mistake not to search Captain Carter.”
“We got into enough trouble as it was,” Warwick muttered.
“Supposing—just for speculation—that Captain Carter knew we were
following him and dropped that watch into the shrubbery.”
“So that when we found it we’d assume we’d made a terrible mistake!”
Willie exclaimed. “Maybe he had the translation in his pocket all the
time!”
“We were chumps not to have searched him,” asserted War.
Mr. Livingston smiled. “An interesting speculation,” he commented. “Off
hand though, I can’t imagine why Captain Carter would want the
translation. For that matter, had he asked to see it, I certainly would
have shown it to him. We’re all supposed to be working together to find
Burton Monahan. So a motive for the theft seems to be lacking.”
“I guess so,” Jack admitted reluctantly.
“Bear in mind that we’re saddled with Captain Carter for the duration of
the trip.”
“And it’s poor policy to stir up bad feeling before we’re even on our
way.”
“Exactly, Jack,” the Scout leader agreed. “We must do our level best to
get along with the captain. He’s not the man of my choice. But if he
once gets the idea that we’re unfriendly or watching him, he could cause
us a peck of trouble.”