Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net.
THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB AT NANTUCKET
OR
The Mystery of the Dunstan Heir
By
H. IRVING HANCOCK
Author of The Motor Boat Club of the Kennebec,
The Motor Boat Club Off Long Island, Etc.
Illustrated
Philadelphia
Henry Altemus Company
Copyright, 1909, by Howard E. Altemus
[Illustration: "Help! I Drown!" Came in a Muffled Voice.]
Contents
CHAPTER I--THE PAIR IN THE SEAT AHEAD
CHAPTER II--BOUNCER WAKES UP
CHAPTER III--THE LUCKIEST BOY IN THE WORLD
CHAPTER IV--SIGHTING THE "PIRATE"
CHAPTER V--A JOKE ON THE ENEMY
CHAPTER VI--TOM HAS A BAD QUARTER OF AN HOUR
CHAPTER VII--"THE QUICKEST WAY OF WALKING THE PLANK"
CHAPTER VIII--TOM DISCOVERS THE HEIR
CHAPTER IX--TED HURLS A THUNDERBOLT
CHAPTER X--OVERHAULING THE MYSTERY
CHAPTER XI--WHERE THE WATER TRAIL ENDED
CHAPTER XII--JOB HAS HIS COURAGE TESTED
CHAPTER XIII--A CAPTURE IN RECORD TIME
CHAPTER XIV--HEADED FOR THE SUNKEN REEF
CHAPTER XV--IN THE TEETH OF DEATH
CHAPTER XVI--FOLLOWING UP THE CLUE
CHAPTER XVII--JOE PLAYS JUSTICE A SCURVY TRICK
CHAPTER XVIII--THE MESSAGE UNDER THE ROCK
CHAPTER XIX--THE SIGHT BEHIND THE ATTIC LIGHT
CHAPTER XX--BLIND MAN'S BUFF IN FEARFUL EARNEST
CHAPTER XXI--THE LAST DASH TO WIN
CHAPTER XXII--JED RUNS A NAVAL BOMBARDMENT
CHAPTER XXIII--SPYING ON THE FILIBUSTERS
CHAPTER XXIV--CONCLUSION
CHAPTER I--THE PAIR IN THE SEAT AHEAD
"Is the 'Meteor' a fast boat?"
"Very fast, indeed."
"But can she beat anything along this coast? That's what I want to
know."
"Judge for yourself. On her trial trip she made within a small fraction
of twenty-eight miles an hour."
"Whew! That's tremendous speed, even for a fast and costly boat such as
the rich build to-day. But how long has she been in the water?"
"Since last March."
"She may have fouled a good deal since then, or her machinery may be a
good deal below the mark by this time."
"Humph! For that matter, something could be made to happen to the boat,
I suppose."
Of the two men carrying on this conversation in a day-coach seat on a
railway train, one was five-foot-seven, florid and somewhat stout, with
a bull neck and keen, twinkling eyes. His whole appearance hinted that
he had spent most of his forty years of life on the open sea. The other
man, who was short, slim and swarthy, with narrow, piercing black eyes,
might have been a few years older. His every motion betokened great
activity. One might have guessed him to be a Spaniard. His general
attire, though it was somewhat careless, would place him in the
business-man class.
At the first mention of the name "Meteor" two American boys, seated
immediately behind the men, started slightly and immediately were all
attention. Each boy was about sixteen years of age. Tom Halstead was
fair, brown-haired and blue-eyed with a naturally merry look. Joe Dawson
was darker, somewhat more reserved in manner and was Tom's fast chum and
great admirer.
Yes; readers of the preceding volume in this series will recognize Tom
and Joe at once as the young Americans who became the original members
of the Motor Boat Club of the Kennebec. It was they who put Broker
Prescott's fast motor boat, the "Sunbeam," once more in commission; they
who went through some most lively adventures along the coast near the
mouth of the Kennebec and who rendered tremendously important services
to Revenue Officer Evans, a cousin of the broker, in penetrating the
secret of Smugglers' Island.
Now these same two members of the Motor Boat Club were traveling on
business that they believed to be wholly commonplace. They were headed
for the island of Nantucket, south of Cape Cod. The experiences ahead of
them, they imagined, were to be of the most ordinary kind. They had no
glimpse, as yet, of the new excitements that Fate had in store for them.
They had no hint of the startling adventures into which they were soon
to be plunged.
But that mention of the name "Meteor" had aroused their instant
attention. That was the name of the motor boat that they were to join
and take charge of at Wood's Hole. The craft was the property of Mr.
Horace Dunstan, one of the wealthy residents of the island of Nantucket.
An ordinary boy might not have heard the low-toned conversation of the
pair in the seat ahead. But Tom and Joe, attuned to the life of the sea
and with ears trained to note the slightest irregularity of the sound of
machinery, possessed acute hearing indeed.
At the first words of that conversation between the unknown pair Tom
gave Joe a slight nudge in the side. Dawson's eyes promptly closed, his
lips parting, his head sinking slightly forward. He appeared to be sound
asleep. Halstead seemed to be wholly interested in the newspaper at
which he was glancing. Not even when the possibility of foul play to the
"Meteor" was mentioned did either youngster betray any further sign.
Indeed, the men in the seat ahead were evidently confident that the boys
could not hear their low-pitched talk. None of the other seats near by
was occupied.
The accommodation train from Boston, rolling slowly along late in this
July afternoon, had just left Falmouth for its run of a few miles to
Wood's Hole, the last stop, as this would be the end of the mainland
route. Across the meadows the hot breath of July came through the open
car windows. The brightness of the sunshine inclined one to close his
eyes, so that Joe Dawson's slumber seemed the most natural thing in the
world. Indeed, Tom Halstead's eyes were narrowing; he seemed the next
candidate for a doze. Yet, depend upon it, neither boy had been more
awake in his life. The slightest hint of possible mischief to the boat
that was soon to be intrusted to their care was enough to set their
nerves a-tingle.
"That was a queer rumpus on Boston Common the other day," began the
florid-faced man. The subject had been changed. No further mention was
made of the "Meteor." Tom Halstead felt tremendously disappointed. He
had hoped to hear more that would be of interest to himself. But the
pair in the seat ahead did not again refer to the "Meteor." So Tom,
after stealthily making a few pin pricks in his newspaper, settled far
down in his seat, holding the paper before his face as though reading.
In reality he was studying what he could see of the faces of the men who
had so suddenly aroused his interest. With the paper close enough to his
face the pin holes were almost as good as windows.
Over those last few miles droned the train. Tom felt cheated in not
hearing more, but to all appearances the strangers had forgotten the
existence of the "Meteor." When the train was yet a mile out from Wood's
Hole the two men arose, going to the forward end of the car. The train
slackened in speed, the two men dropping off on the further side of the
car from where the boys sat. By the time that Halstead deemed it prudent
to slip across to a window opposite, the two men were out of sight.
"Now what on earth can be the reason for those two fellows desiring any
injury to a gentleman's private yacht?" muttered Tom, rejoining his
chum.
"At all events, it's handy to be well warned in advance," returned Joe
with a quiet grin.
"Yes, if we run across that pair within twenty cable lengths of the boat
we'll know 'em and be on our watch," answered Halstead with a meaning
flash in his eyes.
They had little more time for puzzling their heads, for the train was
now rolling in at the little station at Wood's Hole. There were less
than a dozen people to disembark. Out of such a small crowd anyone
looking for two young motor boat experts would have little difficulty in
selecting the two boys with weather-tinted faces, who wore suits of
strong, serviceable navy blue, soft brown canvas shoes and straw hats.
So a tall, slender man of forty-five, dressed in outing gray and wearing
an expensive fine-straw hat, came at once toward them.
"Captain Tom Halstead?" he inquired, looking from one boy to the other.
"That's my name, sir," Tom answered. "You are Mr. Horace Dunstan?"
"Yes. And heartily glad that you did not disappoint me."
"There was no good reason why we should, sir," Halstead rejoined, then
presented his chum. Mr. Dunstan shook hands with both very cordially,
although he was not able to conceal entirely his astonishment at their
youthfulness.
"I--er--really expected to find you a little older," Mr. Dunstan
admitted with an easy laugh. "However, it's all right. My friend,
Prescott, told me he had found, among the seacoast boys of Maine, some
of the best material for motor boat handlers in the world. I asked him
to send me the best pair he knew, so, of course, it's all right, for
Prescott never goes back on a friend."
"We've handled Mr. Prescott's boat in some rather tight places," said
Tom quietly.
"You have your suit cases, I see. There's no need to carry them down to
the water front. Come over here and hand them to the driver."
Mr. Dunstan led the way to the solitary hack at the station, though
neither sturdy boy would have thought anything of walking and carrying
his baggage.
"Now we'll drive down at once and you'll see the 'Meteor'" proposed
their host. "Perhaps you will be able to tell, very soon, what ails the
craft. I have had one or two local machinists look her over and the
owner of one small motor boat who thought he knew all about such craft.
Yet the engine doesn't work well enough for me to be satisfied to try to
use the boat."
In a few minutes the three alighted near a pier that jutted some hundred
feet out over the water. At the further end lay as jaunty a fifty-foot
craft as either boy had ever laid eyes on.
"So that's the 'Meteor'? Oh, she's a dandy!" cried Tom in a burst of
enthusiasm.
"Say, look at the beauty of her lines! What speed she ought to be good
for, with a strong, well-behaving engine!" came from quiet Joe.
Horace Dunstan smiled with pardonable pride as he led the way down the
pier. As far as first impressions went the boat was worthy of extended
praise. Though only five feet longer than the "Sunbeam," she had the
look of being a much larger craft. There was more forecastle. The space
of the bridge deck seemed better arranged. There was an awning over the
bridge deck and another over the cockpit aft. The cabin looked roomier.
From davits at the starboard side swung a natty-looking small boat.
"Gr-r-r-r!" came a warning sound from the closed forecastle as the trio
stepped aboard.
"In the absence of crew I've kept my bull pup down in the engine room,"
explained Mr. Dunstan.
"A mighty good idea," muttered Tom with a swift recollection of the
fragments of conversation he and Joe had overheard on the train.
"Stand back a moment, until I let him out and present you to him,"
requested the owner. "Don't be afraid of him. Bouncer is a very
intelligent dog. Hell understand an introduction as quickly as a human
being would."
One of the forecastle windows was open, to give air to the dog, though
it was not large enough to let him out.
"It's all right, Bouncer," called Mr. Dunstan reassuringly, as he fitted
a key at the forecastle door. "Now come out like a four-footed gentleman
and meet some friends of ours."
Bouncer came nimbly out, a low-built, thickset bulldog of the finest
fighting type. He had a square-set pair of jaws that looked capable of
taking a tremendous grip. His look, however, under the prompt petting of
his owner, was kindly and curious.
"These young gentlemen are all right, Bouncer," spoke Mr. Dunstan. "Go
over and get acquainted with them. Let them pet you."
Bouncer contented himself with a brief sniffing at each boy in turn.
Then he submitted to caresses, wagging his short stump of a tail.
"He understands. You'll never need to be afraid of this dog, unless you
do some such extreme thing as to attack me or a member of my family,"
Mr. Dunstan assured them. "Now come down into the engine room."
"Say, this is something like!" uttered Joe enthusiastically, as he
stepped below and stood looking about him. Here there was an abundance
of room, for much of the engine was housed back under the bridge deck.
The engineer had plenty of space in which to move about. Forward of the
engine room, shut off by a curtain, was the galley. Here were stove,
sink, ice box, dishrack and room for a goodly supply of foods.
Through a passageway Mr. Dunstan led them under the bridge deck.
Curtained off from the passage was a wide berth.
"We generally call this the captain's berth," explained the owner.
"I guess my berth will be on one of the engine room lockers with Joe,"
smiled Halstead.
The cabin proved to be spacious and handsome. The four locker seats
could be fitted into berths when cruising. The cockpit aft was large and
contained, besides side seats, half a dozen comfortable armchairs.
"Now suppose we go back to the engine," desired Mr. Dunstan, turning
about. "I'm anxious, indeed, to know whether you can locate the trouble
that has tied this craft up here."
Returning to the engine room, the boys opened their suit cases, taking
out overalls and jumpers. Clad in these they were soon armed with
wrenches and other tools, exploring the mysteries of that engine.
"This machine hasn't had very good care," spoke Joe after a while.
"She's fouled with dirt and thick oil at a good many points."
"Has the motor been overheated?" asked the owner.
"I don't believe so, sir; at least, not to any serious extent," Joe
stated as his opinion.
"Any repairs to parts going to be necessary?"
"A few, but simple ones, I guess. We ought to be able to make 'em from
the materials at hand."
"You--er--couldn't run out to-night, I suppose?"
"We shall be very fortunate, sir," Joe answered, "if we can take this
boat out to-morrow forenoon."
"We'll stay aboard to-night and work as late as we can," Tom explained.
"Joe can't really tell, until we get started, just how much will have to
be done. But the motor is not hurt past ordinary repair."
"I was going to ask you over to the hotel for dinner to-night," hinted
the owner.
"There seems to be plenty of everything to eat in the galley," Tom
answered seriously. "So, if you don't mind, sir, we'll stay right by our
work and help ourselves to food as we can."
"Make yourselves at home, then. Do you mean to sleep aboard to-night?"
inquired Mr. Dunstan, as he started up the steps to the bridge deck.
"I think we'd better, for more reasons than one, perhaps," Halstead made
answer as he, too, stepped to the bridge deck. "Mr. Dunstan," he went on
in a lower voice, "do you know of anyone who could have a good reason
for wanting to injure your boat?"
"Why, no," replied the owner, though nevertheless he gave a slight
start. "Why?"
Tom described the men and the conversation aboard the train. Mr. Dunstan
listened with interest, though he shook his head when the two men were
described.
"There might be a shadow of reason for their talk in one direction," he
admitted, slowly and reluctantly. "But, pshaw, no; I'm dreaming. No,
there can't be any reason for wanting to ruin my boat. Very likely you
didn't hear quite right."
"At any rate," Halstead went on, "Joe and I will be aboard to-night, and
probably every night as long as we're in your employ."
"You seem to take this thing seriously, Halstead."
"I don't believe, sir, in throwing away what seems like a very valuable
hint. It won't do any harm for us to be watchful, anyway. By the way,
sir, do you mind letting the dog stay aboard, too?"
"Certainly you may have him," nodded the owner. "He won't interfere with
you and he'll sleep with one eye and both ears open. Well, make
yourselves at home here, boys. Do whatever you please in the galley and
feed and water Bouncer. I'll be at the hotel this evening in case you
should want me for anything."
After impressing upon Bouncer that he was still to remain aboard, Mr.
Dunstan strolled leisurely down the pier. Both boys went hard at work.
"What do you make of our new employer?" asked Joe after a while.
"He seems like an ordinary, easy-going man," Tom replied. "I don't
believe he ever startled anyone by doing anything very original, but
he's a gentleman, and we're going to find him considerate and just.
That's all we can ask in any man."
After that there wasn't much talk, except the few words now and then
that related to taking the motor to pieces, and repairing and replacing
its parts. At the close of day they helped themselves to a bountiful
meal and made a fast friend of Bouncer by catering to his healthy
appetite. Then, by the light of lanterns, they went to work again. It
was after eleven o'clock when they found themselves too drowsy to do
further justice to their work.
"Let's go up on deck and get some air. After that we'll turn in,"
proposed Halstead.
"I wonder if we're going to have visitors or any trouble?" mused Joe.
"Somehow I can't empty my head of that talk in the car this afternoon."
"If we _do_ have any trouble," laughed Tom nodding down at the dog
dozing on the deck at their feet, "I've a private notion that we're
going to be able to pass some back--to someone."
Twenty minutes later the motor boat chums had made up berths on the
engine-room lockers and had undressed and gone to bed. Both were soon
sound asleep. They relied on Bouncer, who lay on the deck just outside
the open hatchway, to let them know if anything threatening happened.