PROWLERS
Sometimes Jack had to be not only skipper but mate also of the good
ship _Sea-Lark_, when his “crew” was otherwise engaged. Now and then
Tony Santo needed his son’s assistance in the boat-yard. On one such
occasion――it was the day following the rescue of Rodney Farnham――a man
entered the shed and addressed the boat-builder.
“Do you rent boats here?” he asked.
“I can let you have a dory if you want to go down the creek,” replied
Tony.
The man shook his head impatiently.
“Something larger than that,” he answered. “A sailing-boat, for
instance.”
“You can’t do much sailing on the creek,” said the boat-builder. “Why
don’t you inquire along the wharves?”
“Why, I was wondering,” was the hesitating reply, “whether you happened
to have a little sloop――something I could handle by myself.”
George observed the man curiously. He did not look like a person
who would go in for sailing, and, by the same token, he was not
particularly prepossessing. He was a little above the average height,
and his clothes, though new, did not fit him well. His manner seemed
nervous, and he fidgeted with one of the buttons on his coat while
talking.
“Nothing just now,” replied Tony.
“Do you remember a little sloop called the _Sea-Lark_?” asked the
stranger.
George and his father exchanged glances.
“Why, yes,” replied Tony. “Belonged to Mr. Farnham?”
“That’s right,” said the man. “What ever became of her? If I could get
her she’d be just the sort I want.”
“I don’t think money would hire her,” put in George.
“Well, you see,” explained Tony, “these boys have her. She ran ashore
in the Sangus three years ago and they got her afloat a while ago and
fixed her up.”
“What?” exclaimed the stranger, sharply. “Where is she now?”
“She’s being used as a ferry-boat, across the harbor.”
“Who owns her?” was the next query.
“Jack Holden. You’ll find him down on Garnett and Sayer’s wharf with
her ’most any time.”
“Jack Holden, eh? If he won’t hire her he might be willing to sell her,
maybe.”
“It isn’t very likely, but you can go and ask him. I guess you’ll find
him down there now.”
“Thanks,” said the man laconically, and presently went off.
But the stranger, though he went to the ferry, was in no apparent hurry
to tackle Jack on the question of hiring or buying the sloop. He stood
chatting with Cap’n Crumbie on the wharf until the _Sea-Lark_ returned,
and then crossed to the Point and strolled off.
“That’s a rum-looking bird you took across just now,” commented Cap’n
Crumbie, as soon as Jack landed back.
“I didn’t notice him specially,” replied Jack. “At least, not at first.
He didn’t seem to be able to keep still for more than a minute. I
noticed his hands, though, when he gave me his fare. He must have been
doing some pretty hard work for a long time, and yet he wasn’t dressed
quite like a workman.”
Cap’n Crumbie grunted. He prided himself on being able to distinguish a
day tripper or a drummer from a regular visitor on sight, and an artist
from both.
“I couldn’t place him. He don’t belong here, anyway,” replied the
watchman.
“He was cross-eyed or something, wasn’t he?” Jack asked.
Cap’n Crumbie shook his head.
“No,” he replied slowly. “I know what you mean, though. It’s his eyes
that are set too close together. Don’t you never lend a quarter to a
feller whose eyes come as near each other as that, Jack, ’cause it’s
all New England to a piece o’ cheese that you’ll be twenty-five cents
short from that moment on. My guess is that if yon feller isn’t a crook
o’ some sort, he’s a mighty good imitation.”
The subject of the stranger was then dropped, but an hour later Jack
took especial notice of the man when he came on board the ferry again
at the Point, to return to town.
“Nice little boat you’ve got here,” the man observed.
“I like her very well,” replied Jack.
“She would just about suit me. I’ve been looking for a craft of this
sort. Would you like to rent her?”
“By the hour, do you mean?” Jack asked.
“Something like that. I only want to potter around.”
“I can’t do that very well,” said the captain. “I’m fairly busy in the
day time with the ferry. I could take you out some evening, though.”
“Oh, I can manage her by myself,” replied the man. “You needn’t bother
to come.”
“I wouldn’t let her go out unless I was in her. I wouldn’t trust her to
any one.”
“Huh! Well, what about selling her?”
“Not this season,” said Jack. “I have only just started this ferry and
it looks as though I might clean up something by the fall.”
“Best let me hire her,” said the man. “My name is Martin, and I expect
to be around Greenport for a while. Look here, you needn’t be afraid of
me doing any damage to her. I’ll promise not to take her outside the
breakwater, and of course if there _should_ be any damage I’ll make it
good.”
Jack wavered for an instant, but only an instant. The sloop was by far
the most treasured possession he had ever had, and the idea of allowing
some one else to run her about, perhaps scraping her bottom against the
rocks, or even capsizing her, was distinctly distasteful. Moreover, had
not Cap’n Crumbie warned him only a little while previously of placing
much faith in such a man? As a matter of fact, if something did happen
to the _Sea-Lark_ and this man gave him another boat in her place, it
would not be the same. He loved the _Sea-Lark_ for what she was, for
what she had already done for him, and because of the long hours of
toil he had spent in making her into what she was.
“No, thanks,” he said. “Any time you want to go for a sail in the
evening, after the ferry stops running at six o’clock, I’ll take you,
but I won’t let her go otherwise.”
Martin shrugged, and strolled forward for a while, after which he went
below into the little cabin, where there were one or two passengers
sitting. As the sloop neared the wharf he came on deck again.
“Now, don’t forget what I’ve said,” he remarked. “Any time you change
your mind, let me know, see?”
“I’m not likely to, thanks,” replied Jack, surprised at the man’s
persistence.
Jack and the watchman were standing together on the wharf a few minutes
afterward, when George Santo joined them.
“Well, did you sell the _Sea-Lark_, Jack?” he inquired.
“Sell her? Who to?” replied the skipper.
“A man was inquiring about her,” said the mate. “He asked us all sorts
of questions at the boat-yard, and then said he was coming down here
to make a dicker with you.”
“How funny!” observed the captain of the _Sea-Lark_. “He must be crazy
about her. I’m not surprised, but I wonder why, all the same. You
didn’t tell him I wanted to sell her?”
“I told him money wouldn’t buy her from you.”
“Well, that’s pretty nearly true. I don’t like the chap. Nor does the
Cap’n, here. He worries me. George Santo, you’re fired! Where have
you been all this day? Here I’ve been steward, and ship’s carpenter,
and cook, and deck-hand, and cabin-boy ever since eight o’clock this
morning. I wanted to see you on a little matter of business.”
“If I’m fired, you can’t have any business with me; can he, Cap’n
Crumbie?”
“Come hither!” said Jack, catching hold of George’s ear and leading him
upon the sloop. “Step into the office. Not into the sea, idiot! Quick
march, into the cabin! Now, sit down. See,” he added, producing a small
note-book from his pocket; “I have been working out some figures.
We’re making money, son――not millions, exactly, but we’re doing better
than I ever expected. I want to have a settling up with you. I asked
Cap’n Crumbie what would be fair, and he said you ought to have a third
of the takings. The boat takes a share, and as she’s mine, that goes to
me, of course. The other third I take.”
“But I don’t want to take a share,” George protested. “I’ve done
nothing, except play around a bit.”
“I don’t care whether you want to or not; you’re going to if I have
to give it to your father for you. Think of your starving wife and
children that you were talking about when I signed you on.”
The captain fetched out a bundle of bills and a handful of loose
silver, laid them on the table, and divided the money into three piles.
One he pushed over to his mate and the rest he stowed into his own
pocket.
“What’ll I do with all this?” asked George.
“How do I know? Found a college or something. Anyway, drop it into
your pocket now. By the way, don’t forget to report on Sunday, in your
best uniform, the one with the gold braid on it that I didn’t buy you.
The Farnhams are coming out for a sail, and I’ll need your help, Mr.
Mate.”
The sloop was tied up each night at Garnett and Sayer’s wharf, where
Cap’n Crumbie could see her during his nightly peregrinations. Not that
Jack was afraid of her being stolen, for such a thing was unlikely, but
there was always the possibility of the youthful element of Greenport
scrambling over her and doing damage.
On the morning following Rodney Farnham’s rescue, however, the watchman
reported something to the captain of the _Sea-Lark_ which aroused vague
misgivings in him.
“What time did you go to bed last night?” asked the Cap’n, eyeing Jack
suspiciously.
“About ten o’clock. Why?”
“Umph!” snorted the watchman. “I thought maybe it was you prowling
around, having some sort of a joke; and yet I knew it was too late for
you to be up to any pranks.”
“Not a prank!” replied Jack. “I was tired and went straight to sleep.
You went to bed early too, didn’t you, George?”
The mate nodded, and the watchman pushed his cap back and rubbed his
head in a perplexed fashion.
“Blest if I know, exactly,” he said. “The sloop’s all right. I went on
board and examined her again this morning, and not a thing had been
touched.”
“Examined her _again_! But what happened in the night?” Jack was now
becoming concerned, in spite of the fact that the sloop lay basking in
the bright sunshine at his feet.
“’Twas about midnight, as near as I can remember,” said the Cap’n.
“I’d been having a little doze in my cubby, and I walked out here to
take a squint ’round. I’d no idea anything was wrong, mind you. It was
mighty dark, ’cause the moon hadn’t got up yet, and it was cloudy.
I was standing right here, lighting my pipe, when I heard something
down yonder at the far side of the _Sea-Lark_. It wasn’t much of a
noise, more like the soft bumping of a dory up against her side than
anything. P’r’aps I wouldn’t have taken any special notice of it, only
there was no wind, and as far as I could remember nobody had left any
dory near.”
“‘Hello, there!’ I calls out, not thinking anything special about it.
If I’d known then what I knew a minute later I’d ha’ been down aboard
the sloop afore you could ha’ said your own name. But I didn’t.
“There was somebody there, right on the deck of your ferry-boat, but
he didn’t say a word. I heard the bumping sound again, as though he’d
drawn a dory to the side with a jerk, and he jumped into it. Then he
rowed off quick as lightning. I hollered after him, but he took no
notice, so I got my lantern and went aboard the sloop. The cabin door
was locked, just as you always leave it. Come to think of it, there’s
nothing special any one could steal. Anyway, that’s all that happened,
but you may be sure I didn’t take no more dozes till daybreak.”
“How queer!” commented Jack, uneasily.
“Rowed clean away, he did. Mind you, it might ha’ been some one who’d
landed there while I was dozing, and he was just putting off again,
but why did he land against the side o’ the _Sea-Lark_ when he could
pretty near have walked onto the wharf ten yards further on?”
“And what was he doing there, anyway, at midnight?” asked Jack. “You
don’t get people prowling around the wharf very often at that time of
night, do you?”
“If I catch ’em at it you may be sure I want to know what they’re
after,” replied the watchman. “The queer thing about it was his sliding
off without saying a word when I hailed him.”
“I don’t like it,” said Jack. “There may have been nothing wrong, of
course, but, well, you see, I should feel sick if anything happened to
that boat.”
“I wonder who it could have been,” said George.
“Cap’n Crumbie, I have half a mind to spend to-night on board,” said
Jack. “I could sleep in one of the bunks in the cabin just as well as
in bed at home.”
The watchman took his pipe out of his mouth and carefully laid it
down. When he did that you knew he was thinking hard.
“There’s no _need_ to do that, son,” he replied, “so long as I’m here.
You may depend on it I’m going to keep my eyes skinned for the next
week or so, till we get the moon again. But then again, there wouldn’t
be any harm done if you do want to sleep aboard.”
“Yes, Jack, let’s,” pleaded the mate. “I don’t think I’ve ever slept on
a boat.”
“All right,” agreed the skipper. “If we both get murdered don’t blame
me. Bring a blanket down after supper, George, and we’ll make ourselves
comfortable.”
Cap’n Crumbie lent the boys a lantern, and after wishing them a cheery
“good night,” left them alone. For about an hour they chatted, and
then, feeling sleepy, turned out the light and rolled themselves up in
their blankets. George dropped off to sleep within a few minutes, but
Jack turned about in his bunk for some time before following suit. He
did not expect his slumbers to be disturbed, for, the more he thought
about it the more he came to the conclusion that the visitor to the
sloop the previous night must have come to the wharf for something
which had nothing to do with the _Sea-Lark_. There was so little on
board that could be stolen. Nobody in his senses would do such a clumsy
thing as attempt to get away with the old sails, he mused.
It was pitch-black in the cabin. Up on deck it was not much better, for
the thin crescent of a moon was not due for hours yet, and there were
clouds in the sky again to-night. Occasionally the sloop rocked gently
as the water lapped her side and burbled between her and the wharf.
It was a soft, soothing sound. Jack was perfectly comfortable, and
very happy. It was a good idea to sleep on the boat, he reflected. The
novelty of the thing appealed to him greatly. Later, when the weather
grew hot, he and George would often do it. He wondered vaguely what
Cap’n Crumbie was doing on the wharf. Perhaps snatching forty winks in
his own little snuggery. Jack felt he couldn’t blame the Cap’n if he
did snatch forty winks――fifty, if he liked――
And then he dropped suddenly into healthy slumber.
How long he slept he had not the remotest idea, but he awoke with a
start. Something had happened, but he did not quite realize what. That
he _had_ been awakened by something he was perfectly sure. Almost
holding his breath, and listening intently for the slightest sound, he
lay perfectly still, his eyes open, but seeing nothing in the darkness.
After perhaps twenty seconds Jack raised himself cautiously to his
elbow, still straining his ears. Then there came again the thing which
had awakened him.
The sloop swayed, as though something were being pressed heavily upon
her side.
Silently as a shadow, Jack slipped from his bunk, and extended a hand
to awaken his chum. But on second thought he changed his mind. George
would be sure to say something if he were awakened, and that would
scare the midnight prowler off instantly.
Jack was standing in the middle of the cabin, feeling for a stout stick
which he had placed at hand before going to sleep. Then there came a
slight creaking sound from the handle of the companionway door.
Some one outside was turning it.