Over a sea "as smooth as glass," that fateful Monday morning, the
"Meteor" made a dashing run to Wood's Hole. It was just five minutes of
seven by the clock when the swift craft tied up at the village on the
mainland.
All through the trip Horace Dunstan had remained seated in one of the
armchairs in the cockpit aft. His head had been bowed in sorrow. His
face was haggard and ashen, for he had not slept through the night.
On the pier awaiting him stood Mr. Crane, his lawyer, and Musgrave, who
had been in charge of the force of detectives who had been vainly
seeking the young heir.
"You have not a word of hope, of course, gentlemen?" asked Mr. Dunstan
in a weak voice.
"There is no news whatever," replied Musgrave.
"Our only hope," added Crane, "lies in the barest possibility that the
court may find some legal excuse for adjourning the matter for a few
days and giving us a chance for a longer hunt."
"May I put in a word?" asked Tom, who had been standing close by.
"Yes," assented Horace Dunstan.
"Now I know, and we all know," Halstead went on, "that Ted Dunstan has
been illegally spirited away and that it is simply impossible for his
father to produce him in court. It is no guess-work, for I have seen Ted
Dunstan, alive, and with Mr. Dunstan's enemies. If you were to make the
claim, Mr. Crane, and use me as a witness, would that help matters any
in inducing the court to adjourn the matter? Could the court then
legally postpone the bringing of the Dunstan heir into view?"
"I'm afraid not," replied the great lawyer thoughtfully. "In the first
place, the court would have only Mr. Dunstan's word for it that he is
really anxious to produce his son in court. There would be no evidence
that could corroborate Mr. Dunstan's statement. As to your testimony,
Captain Halstead, if it were admitted at all, it would work us the
greatest harm, for you would be obliged to say, under oath, that Ted
told you he was with those other people by his own choice as well as at
his father's command."
Mr. Musgrave nodded. Horace Dunstan bowed his stricken head lower.
"I understand the force of what you say, Mr. Crane," Tom nodded.
"Hush! Here comes Judge Swan now," whispered the lawyer. "What can he be
doing here?"
A portly, white-haired man, yet with a fresh, young-looking face, had
just stepped onto the pier and came toward them. He was judge of the
probate court over at Nantucket.
"Good morning, gentlemen," he greeted pleasantly. Then, by a nod, he
drew Lawyer Crane toward him, though the judge spoke loudly enough for
the rest to hear.
"Are you going to have a case to bring before me to-day, Mr. Crane?"
"Provided we can find young Theodore Dunstan in time, your honor,"
answered the lawyer. "Our search has been unceasing."
"I wish you the utmost measure of good fortune, then," replied Judge
Swan. "Under the terms of the will, as I understand them, this is the
last day of grace that you have. But remember, court will be open up to
the minute of four this afternoon."
Mr. Crane thanked his honor. Every hearer present, however, realized
that Judge Swan had answered, as far as his dignity and official
position permitted, how any appeal for postponement must be answered
from the bench. The motion would be denied.
The justice turned to stroll apart from the rest, but the lawyer kept at
his side.
"Judge," he asked in an undertone, "since you know the whole of our
painful predicament, can you offer me any suggestion?"
"The most I can say, because it is the most I am able to say," murmured
the judge, "is that I sincerely trust that Mr. Dunstan and yourself will
be able to produce young Theodore in court before four o'clock this
afternoon."
They soon turned, strolling back to the group.
"I feel a good deal annoyed," said Judge Swan, presently. "I was in
Boston yesterday. My friend, Mr. Percival, was to start over to
Nantucket with me at six this morning, in order that I might open court
at nine o'clock. Mr. Percival wired me yesterday that his launch had
broken down, but the telegram must have reached Boston after I had gone
to the train. So I must go over on the forenoon passenger steamer, I
fear."
"If we were going back sooner," explained Mr. Crane, "my client would be
most happy to give you a seat on his boat. But we feel that, if young
Theodore Dunstan is found, it will be on the mainland. So we are waiting
until the last moment."
"Yet, if heaven favors us," broke in Horace Dunstan, "we could take my
son over on the regular forenoon passenger boat, and be in court this
afternoon. The 'Meteor' could be back here soon after the passenger boat
leaves. So, Judge, may I offer you the use of the 'Meteor?'"
"Do you mean that?" asked Judge Swan, looking at the owner in delight.
"Most assuredly," replied Mr. Dunstan. "I shall be glad, judge, if you
will make use of my boat."
"Then I shall accept with great pleasure," replied his honor. "I know
how swift your boat is."
"Then, captain," said Mr. Dunstan, turning to Halstead, "you understand
your instructions, which are to get Judge Swan in Nantucket before nine
o'clock this morning."
"It's the only boat in these waters that could do it," Tom replied, with
pardonable pride, as he sprang aboard.
"Come back, captain, as soon as you land his honor," was Mr. Dunstan's
parting word. "If you pass the passenger steamer, watch for me at her
rail. I may signal you."
Before she had left the pier three hundred yards behind, the nimble
motor boat was going at better than twenty miles an hour. Gradually the
speed was increased. Judge Swan stood on the bridge deck beside Tom.
"It is really exciting to travel on a boat like this," commented his
honor, presently. "You must enjoy it, captain."
"I do sir, when the engine works all right, which it does usually,"
Halstead answered.
The sea as smooth as ever, and no hindering breeze blowing, the craft
behaved splendidly, making within a notch of her best speed. In time
they left Martha's Vineyard behind, and headed out toward the big, green
island of Nantucket.
"The engine isn't likely to break down this morning, is she?" asked the
judge, who had just returned from a smoke aft.
"I don't think so, sir. It would make a sad mix-up in your court work if
we got stuck out here on the open sea, wouldn't it, sir?"
"I imagine it would annoy my clerk a good deal," replied Judge Swan,
reflectively. "He would have to sit in court all day without me, and
then, when four o'clock came, he would, in my absence, be obliged to
declare court adjourned until nine o'clock to-morrow morning."
"And in that case there wouldn't be any legal session of the court
to-day, would there, sir?"
"There couldn't be a legal session in my absence. However, we'll trust
that your engine won't meet with any mishap," replied Judge Swan,
smiling and turning away.
Tom Halstead's hands began to tremble as he guided the wheel. There was
a queer look in his eyes; his head was whirling a bit.
Had Judge Swan purposely given him a hint? It was a staggering thought.
Halstead, when in doubt, was likely to think and act quickly.
"Come and relieve me at the wheel for a few moments, Jed," he called.
Then, in a twinkling, the young skipper was down in the engine room.
"Joe," he whispered, breathlessly, to his chum, "the judge just informed
me that, if anything went wrong with the engine, and we couldn't make
Nantucket before four o'clock, there would be no legal session of
probate court."
"Did he mean that for a hint?" queried Joe, his look becoming keen.
"I'll leave that for you to figure out, chum."
"Where are we, now?" was Dawson's next question.
Halstead informed him.
"Say," muttered Joe, "I wish you'd go up on deck and stay there a while.
I want to attend to my work for a while."
Tom went back up on deck, lounging near Jed, at the wheel. It wasn't
long before the speed slackened. Then, the boat slowed down to mere
headway. Even this soon ceased.
"I'll try not to hinder you long," called up Joe, showing his face in
the hatchway. "I think I can soon get the engine fixed."
"Use all the speed you can, Joe, but do it well, whatever has to be
done," Tom answered. Then he made his way aft to report to Judge Swan
that the engineer had said he hoped the motor would soon be in order
again.
"Are there any books aboard?" his honor wanted to know.
"There's a book-shelf in the cabin, sir."
Judge Swan disappeared into the cabin. The next time Halstead looked aft
he saw the judge snug in one of the armchairs, reading.
The place was ideal for such a breakdown. The "Meteor" lay almost
motionless upon the smooth sea, miles from land, with no troublesome
reefs near. Under the awnings it was delightfully cool.
For an hour Joe remained in the motor room, neither Tom nor Jed
bothering him with their presence. Then Tom went aft to see if their
guest was comfortable. Judge Swan looked up with a pleasant smile.
"If I didn't have that session of court on hand, captain, I wouldn't
mind if this break lasted all day."
"It wouldn't be bad," the young skipper assented. "We have a good larder
and a fine young cook aboard."
"How serious is the break?" inquired his honor.
"Why, Dawson reports that he hopes very soon to be under way again."
"I hope he won't hurry enough to interfere with thorough repair,"
pursued Judge Swan.
When Tom went forward again it occurred to him to take a look down into
the engine room. The sight that met his gaze was a surprising one. Joe
was lying on his back on one of the lockers, the first time he had ever
been asleep at his post!
The time dragged on slowly. His honor, being wholly comfortable and well
occupied where he was, didn't come forward to ask any questions.
"There's the forenoon boat coming," whispered Jed, at last.
"Confound it," muttered Tom. "I wish I had thought to keep better out of
her track."
The passenger steamer soon signaled. Tom answered on the auto whistle.
Then the passenger steamer ran in closer to the motor boat. The captain
of the steamer, standing before the pilot house, megaphone in hand,
called over the waters:
"Are you in distress?"
"Only a temporary break in the engine," Tom answered, through his
megaphone.
"Do you need any assistance?"
"No, thank you," Halstead responded.
"Do you wish to transfer any passengers?"
Judge Swan came forward to the young skipper. At the same time Tom saw
Mr. Dunstan and Mr. Crane at the rail, among the boat's passengers.
"How soon before you'll be under way, Captain Halstead?" asked his
honor.
Now, Joe being fast asleep, Halstead had to answer for his friend.
"Judge, we ought to be under way soon."
"Then tell the captain of the steamer you've no passengers to transfer,"
directed his honor, next starting aft once more.
"No passengers to transfer, captain, thank you," Tom answered.
"All right, 'Meteor.' Wish you good luck!" A moment later, after both
craft had whistled, the passenger steamer continued on her way.
Now, it was too bad, of course, but noon came and found the "Meteor"
still unable to proceed. Soon after that Jed appeared, setting up a
table in the cockpit. A cloth was laid, and a pleasing luncheon spread
before the delayed judge. Joe came to at the first mention of food, and
the three members of the crew ate forward.
"It's a mean thing to have such a break out on the open," Joe
complained, as he finished eating. "However, I'll do the best I can for
you."
The afternoon began to slip by. It was considerably after three o'clock
when Joe thrust his head up through the hatchway to say:
"Captain, if you'll be satisfied to go at slow speed, I think we can
make a start now."
"Then start her, and keep to whatever speed your judgment decides upon,"
Tom replied. Making his way aft he informed Judge Swan.
"I am delighted to hear it, of course," replied that gentleman. "I must,
however, give you credit for commanding a boat aboard which a very
pleasant day of idleness can be enjoyed."
The "Meteor" was soon going at a speed that seemed lame and halting for
her. She made the harbor at Nantucket, however, at 4.20, and landed her
distinguished passenger. Judge Swan shook hands with all three boys,
thanking them for his pleasant day.
Knowing that Mr. Dunstan was not at Wood's Hole, Tom decided to make the
run straight to the home pier. Leaving Jed at the wheel, after they were
out of the harbor, the young skipper went below.
"Joe," he asked soon, "what was wrong with the engine?"
"The vaporizer," Joe replied briefly.
"What ailed it?"
"Why, you see," Dawson replied calmly, "after the speed stopped I
disconnected the vaporizer and put it in one of the lockers. Then,
somehow, I forgot all about that vaporizer for some hours. When I
thought of it I got it out of the locker, wiped it off on some waste,
connected it again--and then the engine began to behave fairly well."
Tom's lips puckered. Whistling, he turned his face away from his chum,
looking out through one of the portholes.
"What's the matter?" inquired Dawson, looking up in some surprise.
"Joe," retorted the young skipper, "don't you think that was rather a
scurvy trick to play on justice?"
"Trick?" repeated Joe in an injured voice. "Well, if you call that a
'trick,' my captain, then all I have to say is that Judge Swan didn't
seem to be very much upset about it."
"There having been no legal session of probate court to-day," Tom went
on, "that gives our friends one day of grace in which to find Ted
Dunstan."
"I wish it were a year more, instead of a day," sighed Dawson.
"I wonder," muttered Tom, as though talking to himself. "I wonder
whether Judge Swan hinted himself aboard the 'Meteor' just so Joe could
play that scurvy, unmannerly trick against the blind goddess of justice?
I wonder!"