AFTER THE WRECKERS
Blake Stewart was at a loss. He did not know what to do, and, though he
had been expecting to hear this request at almost any time, he was no
more prepared for it now than he would have been had it been made
directly after Blake learned of Mr. Duncan's flight.
"Well?" asked Joe, suggestively, when his chum did not answer. "Aren't
you going to tell me?"
"What makes you think I have a secret, Joe?" Thus Blake tried to
temporize, so that he might think what was best to do.
"Oh, I'm sure you have," declared Joe, "and you might as well tell me
now as any time, for I'm bound to find it out. I don't believe there's
any more danger now," and he paused to look back along the almost hidden
path they had followed. "I can't see anything of that man," he added.
"We gave him the slip, all right.
"Now go ahead, Blake, and end my suspense. I've seen for some time that
you've been keeping something back from me. I don't know what it is, but
it's something about my father. And I appreciate why you're doing it.
You want to spare my feelings."
"That's it!" cried Blake, eagerly, glad of any chance to put off what he
regarded as a most unpleasant duty. "It is for your sake, Joe, that I
have been keeping silent, and I wish you would go on letting me do so.
Believe me, if I thought it well for you to know I'd tell you."
"Is it--is it that he isn't my father, after all?" faltered the lad,
following a silence in which all sound of pursuit had died away. The
boys felt that they were safe now. "Do you mean to say, Blake, that this
man whom I've traced after such hard work, isn't any relation to
me--haven't I any folks, after all?"
"No, Joe, it isn't that at all. He's your father, as far as I know, and
I will admit there is some secret about him. But I'd rather not tell
you."
"I want to know it," insisted Joe, firmly.
"If you'll only wait," went on his chum, "it may all be explained
when--when he comes back. Then there won't be any need of a secret.
Better wait, Joe."
"No, I've got to hear it right away. If it's any disgrace--and it must
be, or you'd be willing to tell me--if it's any disgrace, it's my duty
to stand up for my father when he isn't here. I'm his son, and I have a
right to know about it, and protect his name as much as I can. Tell me,
Blake."
The other hesitated a moment. If he told, it would be, he felt, breaking
his promise made to the lighthouse keeper, but then the promise was not
so sacred that it could not be broken. It was given under a sort of
discretion, and Blake knew that he would be allowed to reveal what had
been said if he felt that it was best to do so. The time now seemed to
have come to do this. He took a sudden resolve.
"All right, Joe," he said, "I'll tell you. There is a secret about your
father. I suppose you know what sort of men those were that we just got
away from?" and he nodded in the direction of the hill down which they
had raced.
"I've been puzzling my head about them, Blake," came the answer, "and
all I can say is that they must be either men who are experimenting with
a new kind of light, or else they are--wreckers!"
"That's it, Joe. They are wreckers, and they're plotting to lure some
vessel on the rocks by means of false lights."
"The scoundrels!" burst out Joe. "We've got to spoil their wicked
game."
"That's what we have. We'll tell the police, or some one in authority."
"But before we do," broke in Joe, "tell me about my father, though I
begin to suspect now," and there was a look of sadness on his face.
"I presume you pretty well know what is coming," said Blake, slowly,
"now you have heard what those men said. The whole amount of it is, Joe,
that your father is suspected of having been in league with those
wreckers--that he helped to lure vessels on these same rocks."
"My father a wrecker!" cried Joe. "It can't be--I won't believe it!"
"I didn't want to either, when I heard it," said Blake, "and maybe, now
that I've told you, we can work together and find some way of proving
him innocent."
"That's it!" cried the son. "Oh, if he were only here to help us! I
wonder why he went away?"
"The lighthouse keeper said," began Blake, "that your father left
because he feared to be arrested. And the day after he went away an
officer did come for him," and he proceeded to relate what Mr. Stanton
had said.
"I don't believe it!" cried Joe, when the account was finished. "Of
course, I don't remember my father, and, naturally, I don't know what
sort of a man he was, but I don't believe he was a wrecker!"
"And I don't either!" added Blake. "Here's my hand on it, Joe, and we'll
do our best to find out the truth of this thing," and the two chums
clasped hands warmly.
"But it's mighty strange what those men said about him," went on Joe.
"To think that we would stumble on the wreckers right at work. We can
lead the police to the very place where they have set up their false
light."
"Maybe we can do better than that, Joe."
"How?"
"Why, we may be able to help the police catch these same fellows."
"That's so. Have you a plan, Blake?" asked his chum, eagerly, as they
walked on along the path.
"Not yet, but we'll make one up. But, Joe, did you notice just what it
was that big wrecker said?"
"Not exactly; I was too excited when I heard them mention my father's
name."
"Well, they as much as said that your father had refused to give them
the information they wanted, and this spoiled their scheme. That might
go to show that they made offers to him to have him help them in their
wicked plans, and he refused. That made them turn against him, and----"
"I see, Blake! You mean that, maybe, after all, he left because he was
afraid of the wreckers, and not because he had done anything wrong?"
"That's it, Joe. Of course, it's all guess work on our part, so far, and
I think the best thing we can do is to go to the lighthouse and tell Mr.
Stanton all we've seen and heard. He may be able to advise us, even if
he is an old man. At any rate, he'll know what police or government
officers to go to, so we can catch these wreckers."
"That's right, Blake. Come on. I guess we can go down on the beach now.
Those fellows won't venture out into the open after us, I don't
believe."
"No, they seem to have given up the chase," replied Blake, and the two
lads were soon down on the shore.
A look around showed no signs of the supposed wreckers, and a little
later the two lads were in the lighthouse telling their story to the
wondering and amazed keeper.
"So that's how the scoundrels are planning to work; are they?" cried the
old man. "Going to duplicate my light, and fool the poor sailors! But
we'll put a spoke in their wheel, boys. We'll spike their guns for 'em,
and have 'em behind the bars, if there's any law in this land.
"Putting up a false light right opposite those rocks--the most dangerous
on the coast! No punishment would be too bad for 'em. Did you happen to
hear, boys, when they expected to play that wicked game?"
"They didn't mention any special night," replied Blake; "it seemed that
they counted on getting some information which failed them--Joe's
father," he added, thinking it well to let Mr. Stanton know that Joe had
been informed of the secret.
"Joe's father; eh?" said the old man, musingly. "Boy, I'm mighty sorry
for you," he said, softly; "for I know the disgrace is trying, and if it
had been possible to keep this from you----"
"I'm glad I know!" burst out Joe. "There isn't going to be any disgrace.
My father is innocent, I'm sure of it; and I believe we can prove it,
once we have these wreckers arrested."
"That's the way to talk!" cried the old man. "Boys, I'll help you. We'll
get right after these miscreants. Maybe I was wrong, after all, in
thinking Nate Duncan guilty. He was a good man, and it made me feel bad
even to suspect him."
"What do you think is the best thing to do?" asked Blake. "We ought to
act quickly, or they may leave this part of the country, to try their
scheme farther down the coast. It might succeed, then."
"That's right," declared Mr. Stanton. "We must act at once. My assistant
is here now, and I'll have him go with you. I'm a little too old for
such work. Besides, one of us will have to stay here to guard the light.
No telling but what the scoundrels might try to wreck it. But if they
come, I'll be ready for 'em!" he cried, as he took down an old-fashioned
musket from the wall. "I'll stand by to repel boarders!" he exclaimed,
holding the weapon above his head, and then sighting it at an imaginary
enemy.
"I'll call my assistant," he went on. "Tom Cardiff is as sturdy a lad as
you'd wish to see. He can get one of the men from the life saving
station, and with a couple of the government secret service officers you
ought to be able to get those wreckers, don't you think?"
"Sure!" cried Joe.
"Did you mean for us to help catch 'em?" asked Blake.
"I certainly did," went on the keeper. "That is, unless you're----"
"Afraid? Not a bit of it!" cried Blake, vigorously.
"Besides, you know just where they were located," continued Mr. Stanton.
"Though they may have taken the alarm and left," suggested Joe.
"Then we'll trace 'em!" cried his chum. "Where is your helper, Mr.
Stanton?"
"I'll call him. I say Tom--Tom Cardiff!" he shouted up the lantern
tower. "I'll finish cleaning the lens. I've got other work for you. Come
down!"
"Coming!" was the answer, and a little later a well built young fellow,
muscular and of fine appearance, greeted the boys. The introduction was
soon made, and the story of the lads told.
"Wreckers; eh?" exclaimed Tom Cardiff. "I'd just like to get hold of
some of the wretches," and he stretched out his vigorous arms.
"Well, get after 'em, then!" exclaimed the old man. "You don't want to
lose any time. Telephone for the officers."
The wire was soon busy, and arrangements made for the secret service men
to come to the lighthouse. One of the life saving squad, from a station
a little farther down the coast, was also engaged.
"Now you boys had better go back to your place," said Mr. Stanton; "and
arrange to come back to-night. That's the only time to get after these
fellows. They probably have finished their work, from what you told me,
and they'll lay low until it's dark. Then we'll get after 'em!"