WHAT HAPPENED TO CALEB BACKSTAY.
Although Larry had a week to himself at home, he did not spend all of
the time there.
He and Kate were both anxious to learn more of what Caleb Backstay knew
of the past, and so three days after coming home he and his sister
determined to call at the hospital and see how the old sailor was
faring.
They found the sufferer propped up by pillows in his neat bed at the
end of a long ward, and glad to see the young fireman who had saved his
life.
“I shan’t never forget ye,” he said, as he gave Larry’s hand a warm
squeeze. And he smiled as Kate was introduced.
“I don’t wish to trouble you too much; you are not yet well enough to
stand it,” said Larry. “But you must know I am very anxious to hear all
you know concerning my father.”
“It ain’t a great deal as I can tell ye,” answered the old sailor,
reflectively. “Truth is, my mind ain’t none o’ the best and that fire
twisted me up badly. I reckon to be myself afore a great while, though.”
“You said my father had been robbed by some rascals who had afterward
carried him to some ship outward bound.”
“Yes, he was robbed and he was carried away to the Skylark.”
“The Skylark? What sort of a vessel was that?”
“A big trading schooner.”
“Where was she bound?”
“South America, I believe; I wasn’t sure. To tell the truth, when the
thing happened I was about half seas over. When I came around the next
day I was robbed myself.”
“Was my father drunk? Tell me plainly,” demanded Larry.
“Drunk? Not a bit of it. The men wanted him to drink with ’em, but he
wouldn’t.”
“Then he was carried off entirely against his own will?”
“To be sure he was.”
“Who did the work?”
“The captain of the Skylark—I forget his name—and two other men.”
“Do you know the other men?”
“Not by name.”
“Could you remember their faces?”
“I think I could. But don’t ask me now. My poor head’s too upsot for
it.”
Caleb Backstay showed plainly that he was exhausted, and Larry did not
question him any more, although more anxious than ever to learn the
details of the affair.
“We will come again day after tomorrow,” said the young fireman.
“All right, Barlow. I’ll tell ye all when I’m well enough,” murmured
Caleb Backstay.
Kate and Larry had brought some fruit for the sufferer, and, leaving
this, they departed for home.
“I reckon his story is a straight one,” said Larry, as he and his
sister walked along. “Poor father was carried off to sea against his
will.”
“Then he must be alive!” cried Kate.
“If the rascals who carried him off didn’t have orders to kill him.”
“Oh, Larry, do you think that possible?”
“If he is alive why didn’t he return to New York after the trip was
over?”
Kate’s face fell.
“That is true. But he may have escaped. He may be somewhere in South
America with no money, you know.”
“If he was strong he could work his passage back.”
So they talked the matter over, but could reach no conclusion.
The two days passed slowly, and during that time Larry got back his
strength rapidly. He took the second trip to the hospital alone, Kate
remaining behind to look after Mrs. Morrison, who was ill.
To our hero’s intense surprise, Caleb Backstay had left the hospital.
“Left!” he ejaculated to the attendant who brought him the news.
“Yes, sir.”
“But—but he said nothing of leaving two days ago. He didn’t seem able
to leave.”
“Some rich friend took him away in a coach.”
“Some rich friend? Did you learn where to?”
“Somewhere in Harlem, I believe.”
Our hero was nonplussed, and his face showed it.
“Did he leave any word for me?”
“No, Mr. Barlow. He—that is, I don’t know as I ought to tell of it.”
“Of what?”
“Well, to me the whole thing looked rather peculiar. Mr. Backstay
wanted to leave word, but his friend said he could send word later.”
“Oh! And has any word come?”
“Not yet.”
“Did the friend leave any name?”
“Robert Brown.”
“And that is all you know?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When did Backstay leave?”
“This morning.”
Larry could learn no more, and, sick at heart, he left the hospital.
His hope of learning the particulars of his father’s disappearance was
now dashed to the ground.
“The whole thing looks suspicious to me,” he reasoned. “I had no idea
Caleb Backstay had rich friends here.”
Our hero’s suspicions were correct. The sudden taking away of the old
sailor from the hospital was the work of Martin Pollox.
Pollox had read with much astonishment about Larry’s bravery at the
oil dock fire, and it had amazed him to learn that the sailor who was
rescued was Caleb Backstay.
“That man!” he exclaimed. “That man who knows so much about the
abducting of Walter Barlow. And I thought he had gone away from New
York for good.”
With much anxiety he watched the recovery of both Larry and the old
sailor.
Then to Check Sluggers he delegated the task of getting our hero out of
the way, while he took it upon his own shoulders to do for Backstay in
such a fashion that the old sailor could not make use of his knowledge
of the past.
He sent Backstay a letter stating that an old friend, a sea captain,
wanted him to come to Harlem and be cared for. At this new place he
should have every comfort.
Caleb Backstay was too weak, mentally and physically, to refuse the
offer, and so left the hospital without a protest.
He was driven over to the East Side to a cheap boarding house, and
here, late at night, he found himself face to face with Martin Pollox.
“I wanted to be your friend, Backstay,” said Pollox, “but you have been
talking too much for your own good.”
The old sailor was startled, but he was helpless to do anything for
himself.
“Send me back to the hospital,” he pleaded, feebly.
“I cannot do that,” answered Martin Pollox. “You would tell Larry
Barlow too much.”
“What do you know of what I have said?”
“If you must know, I have had my spies around. You must quit New York
at once.”
“But I can’t move.”
“I am going to put you on board ship. An ocean voyage will do you good.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“But go you shall. The Red Rover sails tomorrow afternoon for the
Sandwich Islands, by way of Cape Horn, and you shall sail on her. It
will be a long trip, I admit, but that can’t be helped.”
In vain Caleb Backstay protested.
“I have made up my mind to this, and I am not to be turned aside,” said
Martin Pollox.
That very night old Caleb Backstay was transferred to the Red Rover and
the ship sailed away from New York at the time mentioned.
Thus was one link in the chain of evidence Larry had been forging
broken.