THE MESSAGE OF HOPE.
"Do you mean that you were on your way to see Mr. Spence at the time
your boat struck a snag?" asked Jack, surprised and perplexed at the
same time.
"That's just what we were, my boy," replied the other, looking
curiously at Jack, as though naturally wondering what sort of mission
could be taking this flotilla of Northern motor boats to visit the
party in question.
Jack would have liked to ask questions, but realized that such a course
would be bordering on the impudent. There might be numerous people
interested in Van Arsdale Spence besides the young aviator whom they
had agreed to assist by carrying the packet to the coast town.
"In that case you have only to remain aboard here, and we will land
you. I have a pilot with me, to lead us right," he remarked.
"So I see, old Pete Smalling, eh? Hello! Pete, struck a job at last,
after looking for ten years?" remarked the man, winking at the hungry
passenger, who was disposing of his food at a prodigious rate of speed.
"I reckon as I hev, Mistah Marshal," answered the other, with
considerable of respect in his voice and manner.
So Jack knew his surmise was correct, and that the heavy-set individual
was an officer of the law, after all. But what he could be going to
see Spence for, was of course beyond his power to guess. The planter
who had owned that fine place now seemed to be living in what might be
called seclusion. Had he done anything for which he could be taken to
task by the law? Jack hoped not, for the sake of that fine young
aviator, Malcolm Spence, who must surely be some relative, and was
deeply interested in his welfare.
The boats moved on in company, so that it was possible to converse back
and forth if any of them so desired.
"I suppose this Mr. Spence must have lived around here quite some
time?" Jack remarked a little later, as the man smiled encouragingly
toward him.
"All his life, suh, all his life. He was born on that spot north of
Beaufort; yes, and his father before him, I reckon. It never has gone
out of the hands of the Spences up to now," came the ready reply.
"Oh! by the way, did this gentleman ever have any family?" asked Jack.
"I should reckon he did that, suh--three fine gals, an' just one son.
The gals they stick by him through it all; but the boy, he left the old
man goin' on two yeahs now. It's nigh about broke his heart, I heah."
"I don't suppose that this son's name could have been Malcolm?"
suggested Jack, pretty sure of his ground now.
"That's just what it was, suh, Malcolm Gregory Spence. They was a time
when we all 'spected he was going to make something out of himself,
because you see the boy was mighty clever; but he quarreled with his
old man and went off. P'raps he's dead by now. The old man thinks so,
leastways; though one of the gals don't seem to believe that way."
Jack could see it all. In some way, Malcolm, estranged from his
family, had managed to learn about their recent financial troubles, and
that they had left the old home, to go, he knew not where.
And Jack, as he pressed his hand over the pocket where he had again
secreted that mysterious missive, only hoped that it would bring joy
and happiness into the home of the Spences. How pleasant it would seem
to be the bearer of good news.
He said nothing more, though having discovered this much he could
easily guess that the errand of the marshal must have some connection
with the breaking of the last tie that would hold the Spence family to
the old home up the Sound. Perhaps the marshal and the lawyer were on
their way to inform the owner that foreclosure proceedings had been
instituted, and to get his signature to documents that were necessary
to the proper carrying out of the sad business.
Pete, having stowed away an incredible amount of stuff, so that he
could hardly draw a full breath, began to manifest more or less
interest in their progress. He suggested little changes in the course
they were taking, and presently broke out with:
"Thar, if so be yuh jest look yondah, suh, p'raps ye kin see a boat
tied up tuh a stake. Thet's whar old Van Arsdale lives now, a fishin'
shack on a patch o' ground he happens tuh own. But I done heard as how
them slick gals o' his'n gone an' made even sech a tough place look
kinder homelike. An' see, thar's the ole man right now, alookin'
toward us, wonderin' who we be."
Jack could easily see all that the other described. It was a lonely
place for a man to bring his three sweet daughters; but doubtless
necessity compelled such a thing.
The man with the white mustache and goatee, who looked like a real
Kentucky colonel, Jack thought, walked down to the rude little dock to
meet them. Of course, he recognized the marshal, who must have been an
old acquaintance of his; and had little difficulty in guessing the
errand that was probably bringing him there.
Then three young girls came running down to gather about the old man,
as if suspecting the coming of new trouble they wished to be near to
help him bear his cross.
Jack found himself quivering with eagerness. And again did he hope
that the message from the absent son and brother might soften the blow
that seemed about to fall upon this devoted little family.
They reached the landing and hastened to get ashore; all but Pete, who
had developed a second-stage appetite, and started in eating again,
regardless of all other matters.
The old planter stood there like a lion at bay, with his three
daughters clinging to him. It was a pretty picture, that would often
come up in the memory of the boys when far away from the scene itself.
He seemed to be paying particular attention to the marshal, who stepped
forward and gravely shook hands with him.
"I had your letter, Mr. Burrows, and looked to see you some time
today," was the way Mr. Spence opened the conversation.
"And as I wrote you, Spence," the marshal replied, "I'm only here in my
official capacity to carry out the execution of the law's demands. As
your friend, suh, I deeply sympathize with you in your troubles, but
being sworn to do my duty, however painful it may be, there was no
choice left to me."
"I understand all that, Burrows. This is only a mere matter of
routine, anyway. The blow fell months ago, when I had to leave my old
home. I thought I might save it in some way by keeping myself
secreted, in the hope that several friends in another part of the
country would come to my assistance. But that hope no longer exists,
sir, and I am now ready to do whatever is required."
"There is no hurry, Spence," the marshal went on, curiosity concerning
the mission of the motor boat boys getting the better of him, "and as
these gentlemen happened to rescue us from a very serious position,
since our boat was wrecked, and they were even then on the way to visit
you, perhaps you would like to talk with them, suh."
It seemed as though Mr. Spence noticed the presence of the boys for the
first time then. He looked at them with a puzzled brow, as though
unable to guess what such a party of pleasure seekers could want with a
broken-hearted Southern planter.
So Jack at once stepped forward, while his mates gathered in a clump,
eagerly observing every little thing that transpired.
"While we were coming down the Delaware River, sir, starting on our
long coast cruise, we happened to come in contact with a young aviator,
who had alighted on the water close by us in a new hydro-aeroplane.
When he mentioned his name we recognized it as belonging to a daring
aviator who had suddenly jumped into national fame as one of the most
skillful of his class. He heard of our plans, and that in all
probability we would pass close to Beaufort. And he asked us to bear a
packet to a Mr. Van Arsdale Spence, whose present place of residence he
did not seem to know, but believed we would be able to learn it after
we arrived here. So I am pleased, sir, to hand you the sealed message
that was given to us by your son, now famous in the world of aviation,
Mr. Malcolm Spence!"
The old planter started, and turned pale as his trembling hand was
outstretched to take the packet. Indeed, he was utterly unable to open
it, so that one of his daughters proceeded to do this for him.
Jack held his breath. Oh! how he did hope that it would be good news,
for if ever any one had need of cheering intelligence this old,
broken-down man did.
He saw him adjust his glasses and commence to read. Already had the
three girls gleaned all that was contained in that missive, and from
their happy faces Jack understood that it was all right.
If he had any doubt he had only to look at the face of the planter.
First it was eager, then yearning, and finally he turned to the marshal
with possibly the first laugh that had burst from his lips these many
moons.
"Aha! you're having your journey for your pains, Burrows!" he cried.
"The old place isn't going to leave the Spence family after all. Look!
this is from my boy, and directs me to go to the bank in Beaufort, to
which he has transmitted funds to make the first payment that will save
our home! More will follow as soon as he hears from us. Money is
flowing in on him, money and honors as thick as they can come. And his
heart has gone out to the father and sisters he left years ago. It's
all right, Burrows, thanks to these kind boys who have borne his
message to me."
He went around, shaking the hand of every one with vehemence. And no
one looked happier than the marshal, upon learning that stern duty
after all would not compel him to take from his old friend the home of
his ancestors.
"But it was a close shave, let me say," was his remark later on to
Jack, as they all started to gather under the humble roof of the
fisherman's shack which the devotion of those three brave daughters had
almost beautified, so that the old man might not be too much broken
down; "another day would have been too late."
"Then I'm glad that storms and breakdowns did not keep us from getting
here on time," said the commodore of the Motor Boat Club.