JACK COUNTS HIS PROFITS
“Well, what is it?” asked Jack. “Did our friend turn out to be a
detective after all and arrest some one?”
“Not so far,” replied the Cap’n. “When he shows me his badge I’ll
believe he’s a cop, but not otherwise. You wouldn’t think he could say
‘boo’ to a goose, would you? But he can! A holy terror, that’s what he
is, when he starts, though he looks as though butter wouldn’t melt in
his mouth.”
“But what happened?” George demanded.
“Pretty near everything, except blue murder!” replied Cap’n Crumbie.
“After you left he was hanging around here as usual, when another
chap came down to the wharf. I was standing at the door o’ my cabin
and the second feller didn’t see me. I ran my optics over him,
’cause I see he was a stranger to these parts. Well, he walked down
all peaceful-like, kind o’ strolling, as though he had the whole day
to himself. Martin didn’t see him coming, ’cause he was leaning up
against one of the piles, at the edge o’ the wharf. Number Two had his
hands in his pockets, and was as happy as a May morning, till all of a
sudden he seemed to recognize Martin. He whipped his hands out of his
pockets, leaned forward a bit, and said something in a low voice which
sounded to me like ‘Whitey.’ Martin swung round as though he’d heard a
rattlesnake.
“‘Hegan!’ he said to Number Two, looking mighty surprised. ‘What are
you doing here?’
“‘Same thing that you are, I s’pose,’ says Hegan. ‘Didn’t expect to see
me for a while yet, eh?’
“‘Well, you’re too late,’ says Martin.
“And that started it. What they were talking about I didn’t understand
exactly. All I could make out was that Hegan didn’t believe he was too
late for something or other, and Martin got so het up he come near to
having a fit. The things he said to Number Two warn’t never heard in
no chapel, and why Hegan didn’t punch him is more than I can make out.
Hammer and tongs they went at it, but Hegan didn’t lose his temper as
much as the other chap. He’d made up his mind about whatever it was,
and didn’t mean to give way.
“All of a sudden, Martin spotted me, and as quick as a wink he calmed
down as meek as a lamb. He muttered something to the other feller so
low that I couldn’t hear, and next thing you know Number Two produces a
cigar-case and they both lights up and walks away as nice and calm as
if nothing had ever happened. They hadn’t got off the wharf when you
landed.”
“Mysteriouser and mysteriouser!” commented Jack. “I’ve got a feeling
that something is going to happen to some one, somehow.”
“Captain Brains, of the good ship _Sea-Lark_!” the mate observed,
grinning.
“But, joking aside,” said Rod, “there does seem to be something in the
wind, doesn’t there? What do you think of it, Mr. Crumbie?”
“_Cap’n_ Crumbie, at your service,” the watchman corrected, with a
reproving glance.
“My mistake, _Cap’n_. But you’re the only one who saw the two
quarreling. You don’t agree with Jack that this Martin may be a
detective looking for some one? The other chap, Hegan, may be another
detective, and they’re both after the same person. That would explain
what you overheard.”
“Son,” the watchman replied, “I’ve been a law-abidin’ citizen all my
life, and the police haven’t been much in my line. But I’ve got two
eyes in my head, and I’ve never seen a police officer yet, in uniform
or out of it, who hadn’t got his business written all over him. No,
if either of ’em has ever seen a badge, it was only when it had to be
shown to ’em!”
“You seem to study human nature a lot,” said Rod. “Do you remember Mr.
Harmon, who has been staying at our bungalow for the last ten days?”
“’Course I do,” replied the Cap’n. “Hasn’t he been coming to Greenport
for the last ten years? You mean the chap who stood on this very wharf
two days since and talked to me for over an hour.”
“That’s Mr. Harmon,” Rod agreed. “Now, you’re a fairly good judge of
people. What would you guess he was?”
“Ho! I don’t have to make no guess about him,” said the watchman,
scornfully. “I _know_. But then I’ve known him so long, and I couldn’t
go wrong.”
“Well, what is he?” asked Rod.
“Why, an artist, o’ course. You can spot ’em every time. They don’t
seem to know nothing much outside paint an’ sketching. But he collects
butterflies, too. Showed me one he said he’d paid fifteen dollars for,
and it wasn’t much bigger than my two thumb-nails, so I laughed at him.”
“You did!” said Rod, smiling. “Why, Cap’n Crumbie?”
“I’ve seen butterflies that _were_ butterflies, in my time,” replied
the watchman. “Sailors get chances o’ that kind, you know. What with
what I’ve seen”――he cast a sidelong glance at Jack and George, knowing
he could not stretch the bow too far before them――“and heard from
shipmates, I was able to tell him all about the big butterflies in the
South Pacific islands. Pretty nigh as big as my hat, some of ’em are,
flying all over the place, and to be had for the catching, without
paying any fifteen dollars a time, either.”
Rod roared with laughter.
“He took it all in, of course?” the boy asked at last.
“’Course he did. ’Tain’t funny,” protested the Cap’n, knocking the
ashes out of his pipe with unnecessary violence.
“But it _is_ funny,” replied Rod. “You see, Mr. Harmon’s hobby is
butterflies and he spends half his time and lots of money traveling
around to places like the South Sea islands after them.”
“Well I’m blest!” commented the watchman, with an inward twinge at the
memory of some of the wilder statements he had made to Mr. Harmon.
“Didn’t know these artist chaps ever made lots o’ money like that.”
“That’s funnier still,” replied Rod, with a broader smile. “He only
paints pictures for fun, on vacations.”
“Now, who’d ha’ thought that!” was Cap’n Crumbie’s pensive reply.
During the next forenoon, Jack in view of what the watchman had told
them, was not surprised to see the man who called himself Martin appear
on the dock with a companion. And from the mysterious and yet eloquent
signs which Cap’n Crumbie made, both with his index-finger and with
his left eye, the lid of which drooped in an unmistakable wink, Jack
realized that the individual with him was his opponent of the previous
day.
Hegan was no more like the popular idea of a detective than his
companion. He was a short, bull-necked person, with red, beefy hands, a
bold, determined, and also unshaven face, an insolent air, and bright,
beady eyes which darted about restlessly. He smoked cigars incessantly,
lighting one from the stub of another.
The two men were waiting at the end of the wharf when the ferry
returned from the Point, and stepped on board as soon as the other
passengers had disembarked.
“Well, how’s business?” Martin asked, addressing Jack the moment he got
on board. He spoke in a tone which Jack regarded as a shade too free
and easy, considering the length of time they had known each other.
“Very good, thanks,” he replied quietly.
“How much is the fare?” asked Hegan, pulling a handful of coins out of
his pocket. “Ten cents? Here’s fifty for you.”
Jack accepted the half-dollar, and handed back the change.
“Only ten cents a head,” he said. “If you want to go for a sail in the
harbor you can pay more, of course.”
“That’s a good idea,” declared Hegan. “What d’you say, Martin? A little
run round the bay, huh? You won’t be seasick? Go to it, son,” he added,
addressing the captain. “We’ll have a full dollar’s worth.”
And as the _Sea-Lark_ sped away, Cap’n Crumbie, standing on the edge of
the wharf, with his hands jammed down into his pockets, and his eyes
on the little craft slipping into the distance, shook his head slowly
and soberly.
“Now, I wonder where I’ve seen that chap Hegan afore,” he muttered.
“Maybe it was a long time ago, and maybe it wasn’t such a long time.
_But I’ve seen him afore, somewhere._”
Meanwhile, with exaggerated friendliness, Hegan was endeavoring to gain
a friendly footing with the crew of the sloop.
“Nothing like a sail on the briny for your health,” he declared. “My
friend Martin talked about buying a boat some time since, but he’s
changed his mind now. Says he might be going back to New York before
long, and he couldn’t take it along with him. I’d like to see him
trying to navigate a sloop o’ this size up Broadway. Ha, ha! Well,
well, you boys certainly are three good sailors! And a very nice boat
you have here, too. We must come for a sail in her again. We’ve nothing
to do just now――on a vacation, you know. This boat must be thirty feet
long. A good broad beam, too. And I’ll bet she has a nice little cabin.
Come down and have a peek below deck, Martin.”
Jack, at the wheel, watched them descend the companion and enter the
cabin, where they remained only a few moments. He heard them conversing
in low tones and though he could not have explained it, he felt
relieved when they reappeared on deck. It seemed to him, however, that
an indefinable change had come over the two passengers in that short
interval. Hegan was, if anything, a shade more affable, and, slapping
his thigh heartily, laughed boisterously at every little joke he made.
“They’re a queer couple, aren’t they?” commented Jack, when the men had
gone ashore again at the wharf.
Rod was sitting on the top of the deck-house, with his eyes narrowed as
he watched their late passengers walk away.
“I give it up,” he said. “It’s none of our business what they’re after,
of course, and they’re too deep for me.” He paused for a moment, with
his head held on one side reflectively. Then: “Jack, I can’t help
wondering whether one of those chaps knows anything about that person
who was prowling about the sloop at midnight.”
Jack nodded and looked up into the clear blue sky, as though seeking
inspiration.
“I have wondered that myself,” he said. “But what’s the use of
wondering? As Cap’n Crumbie says, there are a hundred million people in
the United States, and it might have been any one of them.”
During the first few weeks while the ferry was running Jack had
purposely avoided giving his father exact figures of what the
_Sea-Lark_ had earned, as he wished to save up a pleasant surprise
for him. More than once Mr. Holden had made inquiries on the subject,
expressing the hope that his son was not being disappointed.
“You’re looking better for it, anyway, my lad,” he declared one evening
while they were sitting together on the porch of the cottage. “Not
that you were sick, but a month out in the sea air all day makes a
difference to any one. If you don’t gain any more than that we shan’t
have anything to grumble at, shall we?”
“N-no,” replied Jack. “But you’d rather the sloop and I fetched a
dollar or two in, wouldn’t you?”
“You know well enough I’d be thankful, Jack. We can do with all that
comes our way these days. Not that I’d have you spend it, though. If
you do get a little in hand this season I want you to put it away in
the bank and keep it there safely till we absolutely can’t do without
it. By the way, you ought to get those sails and halyards paid for.
Debts are no good to any one. Promise me you’ll pay for them as soon as
you take enough money to meet the bill.”
Jack smiled.
“I settled up for those long ago,” he replied, entering the house and
going over to a cupboard where he usually kept his own particular
property. Taking out a small wooden box, he returned to the porch,
placing it in an empty chair by his father’s side.
“What have you got there?” Mr. Holden asked.
“The family treasure-chest,” replied his son. “It isn’t awfully full,
of course, but I intended to reach a certain sum before I handed any
of it over to you. Guess how much there is.”
“Five dollars,” said Mr. Holden, immediately.
“What, Dad? Do you think I’ve been running that packet of mine for over
a month and only made as much as that? Spread this paper on your knees
and I’ll tip it all out so that you can count for yourself.”
Jack opened the box and upset the contents of the box on his father’s
lap. There were clean bills and dirty bills, dimes, nickels, quarters,
and half dollars. Mr. Holden raised his eyebrows.
“Why, son, you’ve got a good little pile here!” he declared.
It was not without a certain sense of pride that Jack watched his
father adding up the contents of his treasure-chest. For it was almost
the first money he had ever earned, and every dime there represented
one passenger carried across the ferry, to say nothing of the dimes he
had handed over to his mate.
“Thirty-two dollars!” declared Mr. Holden, at last. “Jack, you’re a
wizard! How did you do it?”
“Didn’t you think I should do as well as that?” the boy asked.
“Why, no, not in this short while,” replied Mr. Holden. “Not after
you’d paid for your paint and your fittings, and paid your crew, too.”
“Well, there are two more months yet, Dad,” said Jack, hopefully, “and
I ought to do even better during the rest of the season. You see,
the people over on the Point are beginning to depend on the ferry.
We always run on time, once an hour, and only miss the trip when the
weather makes it impossible. The more the people learn to look for us,
the better it is for the treasure-chest.”
“I shall have to look to my laurels,” said Mr. Holden, “or you’ll be
making more than I do. Now, don’t keep this in the house. Take it down
to the bank, where it will be safe. You――you know, I’ve never felt too
safe with money lying round since――that night――”
Mr. Holden’s voice trailed into silence, leaving his sentence
unfinished, but Jack knew what night he was thinking of, and he
answered soberly: “All right, Dad.”
He gathered up the bills and coins and replaced them in the wooden box.
“I’ll keep it all together till the end of the season, and then I’ll
hand it over to you.”
The throb of an automobile caught the lad’s ear, and he looked down the
street. A large limousine was approaching the cottage.
“Why, that’s the Farnhams’ car,” he said, going to the end of the
porch. A moment later the vehicle stopped in front of the cottage, and
Rodney jumped out.
“I’ve brought some one to see you,” he called. Jack needed no second
glance to know that the prosperous-looking gentleman who followed on
the heels of Rodney was the lad’s father.
“So you’re the young captain of the _Sea-Lark_, are you?” asked Mr.
Farnham, pleasantly. “I hadn’t been at home an hour before Rod insisted
on my driving over to see you. And this is your father? Glad to meet
you, Mr. Holden. Your boy has made a real business enterprise of it, I
understand. Well,” he added, turning to Jack, “and how do you like the
sloop?”
“She’s just perfect, sir, thanks,” replied Jack, a little shyly.
“I――I’m awfully obliged to you for letting me have her.”
“That’s all right,” said Mr. Farnham. “Don’t forget your promise to
take me for a sail in her sometime.”
“Why, of course, she is yours to use whenever you like, sir,” replied
Jack.
“She’s not mine, at all!” replied the man, laughing. “You’re the only
one who has any claim on her now. Besides, I have the motor-boat. All
the same, I’m coming down some day soon for that sail. I want to see
how you and your merry men manage her.”