THE RED MESSAGE
When the boys reached Beaufort and had tied up at a wharf, it was
still too early to expect to find any shops open. They left Hank on
watch, however, and went up into the town, Joe to look, presently, for
a dealer in electrical supplies, while Captain Tom sought a ship's
joiner to fit and hang a new hatch to replace that smashed in the
affair of the night before. Both boys were presently successful,
though it was noon before the joiner had his task finished.
While the last of the work on the new hatch was being done, Tom and
Joe went once more uptown to get a message from Mr. Seaton's attorney
regarding the date when the formal hearing of the men arrested the
night before would take place in court. Hank Butts was left to watch
over the boat and keep an eye over the joiner.
"Any strangers around here?" queried the young skipper, after the
joiner, his work completed, had gone aboard.
"Only a young black boy," Hank replied. "He seemed curious to look
over the boat, but he didn't offer to go below, or touch anything, so
I didn't chase him off."
"Cast off, Hank. Give us some power, Joe, and we'll get back to Lonely
Island," declared the young captain, going to the wheel.
Hardly more than a minute later the "Restless" was gliding out of the
harbor.
"Guess Hank's young negro visitor left a note," called up Joe, showing
in the doorway of the motor room and holding forth a note. Hank took
it, passing it to Halstead.
"Mind the wheel a minute, Hank, please," requested Tom, looking
closely at the envelope.
It was addressed only to "Halstead," the writing being in red, and
thick, as though laid on with the point of a stick. The message on the
sheet inside was crisp and to the point. It ran:
If you think your doings have been forgotten, you'll soon know
differently!
"Humph!" muttered Joe, following up, and taking the sheet as his chum
held it out. "That must be from Anson Dalton."
"Or Captain Dave Lemly, of the 'Black Betty,'" returned Tom, without a
trace of concern in his tone.
"It's a threat, all right," muttered Hank Butts, his hair bristling
when the sheet came into his hands. "Confound 'em, I hope whoever
sent this tries to make good--when we're looking!"
Just then Captain Tom changed the course abruptly, the bows of the
"Restless" sending up a shower of spray that sprinkled Hank from head
to foot. As he turned to get out of the way the wind caught the sheet
written in red from his hand, blowing it out across the water.
"Let it go," laughed Tom. "We know all the red message had to say."
"The negro that I allowed on deck came on purpose to drop the note
where it would be found," muttered Hank.
"No matter," smiled Tom. "We're always glad to know that we're
remembered by nice people."
"I'd like to have that black boy here for a minute or two," grunted
Hank, clenching his fists.
"What for?" Tom Halstead queried. "He probably didn't have any guilty
knowledge about the sender."
"That reminds me," broke in Joe. "Stand close by the motors a few
minutes, will you, Hank?"
With that Dawson vanished aft. When he came back he announced:
"I've just flashed the wireless word back to Mr. Seaton's lawyer about
the message we got, advising the lawyer that it probably shows
Dalton, or Lemly, or both, to be in Beaufort. And the lawyer was able
to send me news, received just after we left."
"What?"
"The schooner, 'Black Betty,' has just been seized, thirty miles down
the coast, by United States officers. She'll be held until the customs
men have had a chance to look into the charges that the schooner has
been used in the smuggling trade."
"Was Lemly caught with her?" asked Tom, eagerly.
"No such luck," retorted Joe.
"I'd feel better over hearing that Dave Lemly was the prisoner of the
United States Government," remarked young Halstead. "If he keeps at
liberty _he_ is the one who is going to be able to make Anson Dalton
dangerous to us."
"Then you're beginning to be afraid of that pair, are you?" asked Joe
Dawson, looking up.
"No, I'm not," rejoined Tom Halstead, his jaws firmly set. "A man--or
a boy, either for that matter--who can be made afraid of other people
isn't fit to be trusted with the command of a boat on the high seas.
But I'll say this much about my belief concerning Dalton: For some
reason we've been in his way, and are likely to be much more in his
way before we're through with him. If Dalton got a chance, he wouldn't
hesitate to wreck the 'Restless,' or to blow her up. For any work of
that sort Dave Lemly is undoubtedly his man."
"What can make them so desperate against Mr. Seaton?" queried Joe.
"We can't even guess, for we don't yet know the story that's behind
all this mystery and the list of desperate deeds."
"I wonder if Mr. Seaton will ever tell us?" pondered Joe.
"Not unless he thinks we really need to know."
"But he has already hinted that it's all in a big fight for a
fortune," urged Hank.
"Yes, and we can guess that the fight centers in South America, since
that is where Clodis was bound for when this business started,"
replied Skipper Tom.
"I wonder if there's any chance that our cruise will reach to South
America?" broke in Hank Butts, eagerly.
"Hardly likely," replied Tom, with a shake of the head. "If there had
been even a chance of that, Mr. Seaton would have arranged for an
option extending beyond the end of this month."
"Just my luck," grumbled Hank, seating himself on the edge of the
deck-house. "Nothing big ever happens to me."
"Say, you're hard to please," laughed Joe, turning and going down into
the motor room.
They were not long in making Lonely Island, where the "Restless" was
tied up and the hatchways locked securely. The boys were not required
to remain at the boat, one of the guards being stationed, night or
day, at the wharf.
Powell Seaton was much interested in the account Tom gave him of the
red message, though he did not say much.
There was no change or improvement in the condition of Mr. Clodis, who
still lay in a darkened room, like one dead.
That afternoon Joe, with some help from his comrades, repaired the
bungalow's wireless plant and got in touch with the shore once more.
Through the night four men were kept on guard, one on the porch,
another at the wharf, and two others patrolling the island. No attempt
of any sort on the part of Dalton or the latter's confederates was
discovered.
The next morning brought still no change in the condition of Clodis.
He was alive, breathing feebly, and Dr. Cosgrove was attempting to
ward off an attack of brain fever.
Through the forenoon Joe was kept rather busy sending messages ashore
to the authorities, for Powell Seaton, though not leaving the island,
was waging a determined campaign to get hold of Dalton.
"I don't need Dalton, particularly," confessed Mr. Seaton, as he sat
with the three motor boat boys at the noon meal. "But it would be
worth a very great deal of money to get back the papers that Dalton
must have stolen after assaulting my sick friend, yonder, on board the
'Constant.'"
"Do you--do you know--what was in the stolen papers?" asked Captain
Tom Halstead, hesitatingly.
"Very well, indeed," rejoined their employer, with emphasis. "But the
real trouble is that I don't want to have that knowledge pass to the
gang that are behind Anson Dalton."
"Yet Dalton must have had time to join his principals, or
confederates, by this time, and turn the papers over to them,"
hazarded Halstead.
"That's hardly likely," murmured Powell Seaton, "since the gang of
rascals behind Anson Dalton must be, at this moment, somewhere in the
interior of Brazil."
"Oh!" said Tom, reflectively.
"You're curious, I see, to know what all this great mystery means,"
smiled Mr. Seaton.
"I--I don't want to let myself be curious about what is none of my
business," declared Tom Halstead, bluntly.
"I'm going to tell you the story now, just the same," replied Powell
Seaton, in a still lower voice.