The _Argo_ was scudding along in a good breeze to Barmouth. Ben was
carving a small piece of wood into what he fancied was a resemblance to
a mermaid. David, his hands clasped behind his head, lounged in a
comfortable corner. Tuckerman was at the tiller, and Tom surveyed his
pupil through approving eyes.
“Professor, I think we’re ready to give you your diploma,” Tom said, as
he noticed the easy manner in which Tuckerman handled the sailboat.
“You’re an able seaman. I’ll give you an honor mark as a navigator.”
“And I’ll pass you as a first-rate cook,” said David, turning and
nodding his head. “You fried those eggs this morning just as well as I
could have, and praise can’t be higher than that.”
“You coax the fish right out of the sea,” said Ben, looking up from his
carving. “There was a time when I didn’t believe you’d ever learn to
bait a hook so the fish couldn’t nibble it off; but you can do it now.
I’ll graduate you as a competent fisherman.”
“And my swimming?” asked Tuckerman, his eye on the water curling over
the bow.
“Well, as to that,” said David, “you’re not exactly a merman, but you
can paddle along at a decent pace. Yes, we’ll call you a swimmer. I
should say you were a pretty good all-around fellow now, Professor.”
Tuckerman looked pleased. Praise from these three boys was very
satisfying. And he knew that what they said was not mere idle banter. He
had learned a great deal since he had been camping with them.
“Thanks,” he said. “To be able to sail a boat, to cook, to fish, to
swim—why, that’s more than I ever expected to learn when I came here
from the west. I tell you what! It was a great thing for me when I
decided to take a look at my Uncle Christopher’s island.”
“And what are you going to do with it now that you’ve seen it?” asked
Tom.
“I don’t know. I’ve got to go back to my home. I don’t suppose anyone
would want to live way out in the harbor nowadays. There’s not enough to
do there. But I hate to take all those fine old furnishings out of the
house. They belong there, and they don’t belong anywhere else.”
“There’s an old house out on the Boston road,” said Ben, “that the owner
keeps up as a sort of a museum. He has all the old furniture that was
used in colonial days. There’s a great deal of travel on that road in
summer, and he charges a quarter for every person that goes over the
house. There’s a care-taker, of course. I think she serves tea for a
quarter extra.”
“That’s an idea,” said Tuckerman. “Only my house isn’t on a main road.
It’s a rather hard place to reach.”
“All the better,” put in Tom. “People like excursions. We could put up
signs in Barmouth and all along the road. ‘Be sure to take the boat to
famous Cotterell Hall on Cotterell’s Island and hunt for the treasure!’
That would get them all right. You could charge as much as you like.”
“And Tom could run a ferry, and Ben be the care-taker and serve
ginger-ale at a dollar a glass,” suggested David.
“And you could cork your face and be the famous mahogany man from the
Barbadoes,” retorted Ben. “He’s a wonder in a minstrel show, Professor.”
“It sounds good,” Tuckerman agreed. “It’s certainly up-to-date. But
somehow I don’t feel that it’s quite dignified enough for Cotterell
Hall.”
“You can make it dignified enough,” said Tom, “by charging enormous
prices.”
Tuckerman laughed. “You’re right. You fellows are Yankees sure enough.
You make me feel like a greenhorn.”
“And think of the business it would bring to Barmouth,” said Ben,
putting the attempt at a mermaid into his pocket and sitting up
straight. “People who went to the island would probably have to spend
the night at the hotel. Why, you ought to be able to make a deal with
the proprietor to share his profits.”
“Ben’s started now,” exclaimed David. “Stop him somebody quick, or he’ll
be spending the money we’re making from the concern.”
“I think it’s a great idea,” Ben proceeded, as usual paying no attention
to David’s jibe. “It’ll put Barmouth on the map. ‘Cotterell Hall, the
most famous treasure house on the Atlantic Coast!’”
“I wish you wouldn’t use that word ‘treasure,’” Tom protested. “It has a
hoodoo sound.”
“And speaking of putting things on the map,” said Tuckerman, “here’s the
wharf ahead. Don’t get me all excited while I bring her up to the dock.”
The _Argo_ made a perfect landing. “Good enough,” said Tom. “That
couldn’t have been done better. Professor, you’re a dandy.”
They went up the main street and turned off to the elm-shaded lane where
the Halletts lived. They were going to call on Milly Hallett.
Milly was at home. She was, in fact, enjoying an afternoon nap in the
Nantucket hammock on the side porch when Tom spied her from the lane.
The sound of footsteps woke her, and seeing who was coming in at the
gate she swung her feet down from the hammock, smoothed her rumpled
skirt, and patted her fluffy hair. And because she still felt a trifle
piqued that Tom was having all the fun of camping on Cotterell’s Island,
she decided on the spur of the moment to be a little standoffish with
the callers.
“Hello, Milly,” said her brother, in the offhand way brothers have, “we
thought we’d come over to see how you were getting along.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Tuckerman,” said Milly, standing up and giving that
gentleman the tips of her fingers. “I hope the boys are looking after
you all right on your island.”
“I can’t complain,” smiled Tuckerman. “We do as well as we can, without
any ladies to help us.”
“Won’t you sit down?” Milly invited politely.
Tuckerman took a chair, and the three boys, impressed in spite of
themselves by Milly’s society manner, perched on the rail of the porch.
“We were wondering,” said Tuckerman, “whether we could induce you to
come out to supper on the island. We hoped the simplicity of the meal
would be atoned for by the beauty of the scenery. I can promise you a
fine sunset.”
“Thank you for the invitation.” Milly swung gently back and forth. “Let
me see—what did I have on hand for this evening?”
“Oh, chuck it, Milly!” said Tom. “Of course you want to come along.”
“I remember now,” said Milly suavely. “I have a date with my friend
Sarah Hooper. There’s a new movie in town.”
“Well, of course,” said Tuckerman in a regretful tone, “we can’t compete
with a new moving-picture show.”
Milly smiled. “The boys are still giving you plenty of good food, are
they? And keeping you amused?”
David moved impatiently on his perch. “The Professor never got better
food anywhere. He says so himself.”
“I thought perhaps the menu might get a little tiresome,” Milly
suggested sweetly. “Boys are so apt to stick to one or two of the same
things when they have to cook for themselves.”
“We don’t,” grunted David.
“She knows we don’t,” said Tom. “I say, Milly, what’s your game?”
“Game?” Milly wrinkled her pretty nose. “I don’t know what you mean!”
She glanced again at Tuckerman. “Boys are funny creatures, aren’t they?”
The boys came down from the rail with one accord. Indignant replies were
on the tongues of each; but Milly pointed beyond them at the lane. “Here
comes Sarah Hooper now,” she said. “It’s just possible I can get her to
change our date.”
Up the path came the black-eyed girl, a yellow sweater on her arm.
“Hello, everybody!” she sang out, as she reached the porch. “What is it?
An experience meeting?”
“They want me to go to supper with them on Mr. Tuckerman’s island,” said
Milly. “I told them I had a date with you.”
“Perhaps Miss Sarah Hooper will join the party,” Tuckerman added
promptly. “We’d like her to.”
“Fine!” exclaimed Sarah. “I don’t know why I shouldn’t.”
“Milly said,” put in Tom, “that you and she were going to a new movie.”
A glance passed from Sarah to Milly, and Sarah nodded her head. “That’s
so,” she agreed. “I do remember we were.”
“However,” said Milly, “if Sally would really like to accept your
invitation, we can go to the movies some other time.”
There was a pause, for Sarah was not sure what her friend wanted her to
say; and then Ben broke the silence by pounding the porch-rail with his
fist. “By jiminy, girls are funny creatures, aren’t they? They’re crazy
to come, but they don’t want to admit it.”
“Oh!” began Milly. But Tuckerman interposed.
“The funnier people are, the pleasanter it is to be with them. We do
need the company of ladies on our island. We’ve only been seeing each
other, and sandpipers and gulls. It would be doing us a great favor if
these two ladies would come and freshen us up.”
“Well,” said Sarah, charmed by this gallant speech, “I’d be glad to
come. It’ll be a perfect evening.”
Milly got up from the hammock. “I’ll contribute a box of fudge.”
“That’s all that’s needed to make it complete,” said Tuckerman.
The girls went indoors, Milly to tell her mother about the party, and
Sarah to telephone to her house.
“Now,” said Tuckerman, on the porch, “we’ve got to give them as good a
time as they’d have had at the movies.”
“Milly wanted to come all along,” said Tom. “Why didn’t she say so?”
“I think,” answered Ben, “that she wanted to show us that she was having
just as good a time here at home as we were having in camp; and she knew
she wasn’t.”
Tuckerman smiled and nodded. “Ben’s hit it on the head. And that’s all
the more reason why we should see that they enjoy themselves this
evening.”
They all agreed to that line of reasoning, and the first result of it
was that they suggested to Milly that she should sail the _Argo_ back to
the island. She was very much pleased, and Milly, on her mettle, handled
the craft as skillfully as Tom could have done himself.
They landed, and Sarah said that she would like to see the island, since
all she had seen of it on her first visit had been Cotterell Hall and
the shore about the camp. So the boys and Tuckerman took their guests on
a regular tour, through the woods, where the russet-green pine-needles
made a clean and fragrant carpet, dappled with patches of sunlight;
along the little beaches, curves of yellow sand, where sandpipers played
and strutted, or flew in silver bands; up on the ramparts of cliffs,
against which the waves rolled in and slipped and slid in white cascades
over the low-lying ledges, and so to the southern point, where they
watched the sun setting in all its glory, tinting the sky and the sea in
wonderful combinations of shifting colors.
Then they went to the camp, where David made a marvelous fish chowder of
cunners and cod that Ben had caught that morning. And for dessert they
had apple fritters and Milly’s home-made fudge.
When it was time to take their guests back to Barmouth, Tom suggested
that they sail around the island. As they cruised up the ocean side they
saw a sail to the east. And after watching the distant boat intently for
some minutes David exclaimed, “I think that’s the fishing-smack that
took me from the cove to Gosport!”
Tom shifted the tiller, and the _Argo_ took a course toward the larger
boat. As they sailed, David, in answer to Milly’s questions, told of his
adventure with the crew of the smack.
To the northeast lay a small island, and the larger boat sailed around
its southern point. The _Argo_ kept up its chase, and presently came on
the fishing-smack at anchor off a half-moon beach.
The big boat stood silhouetted against the violet sky of the summer
night. It was too dark to distinguish figures on her deck. Apparently
she had come to anchor there for the night.
“How about it, Dave?” asked Ben. “Is that the craft that kidnapped you?”
“Looks like her picture,” was the answer.
“Want to hail your good friend Sam?” inquired Tom.
“No, I don’t,” said David. “He might throw something out here that the
girls wouldn’t like.”
“Oh, don’t mind us,” exclaimed Milly and Sarah in chorus.
“I don’t know what the smack—if it is Dave’s boat—is doing around
here,” said Tuckerman. “There can’t be much to steal from that island.”
For a time the _Argo_ bobbed about, but there came no hail from the
boat, no light appeared, she might have been a ship without a crew.
“Let sleeping hornets lie,” Tuckerman advised. And at the suggestion Tom
sheered away. The _Argo_ sailed up the shore of the island and pointed
her bow toward the twinkling lights of the town.
They were all enjoying the breeze, the star-sprinkled sky, the soft
swish of the water against the side of the boat when Ben, from a brown
study, spoke. “If the men on that smack are the thieves who broke into
Mr. Fitzhugh’s house, might they be hunting around here for the
Cotterell treasure?”
“Well, I wish them luck at finding it,” said David.
“Thieves who broke into Mr. Fitzhugh’s house!” cried Milly. “Oh, do tell
us about that!”
Then the whole story came out, and when she had heard it all Milly said
positively, “I think Ben’s right. They’re planning to steal something
from your island.”
“Hope they don’t take our cooking outfit,” said Tom.
“Or any of my fine old colonial furniture,” added Tuckerman.
“Oh, no,” scoffed David. “It’s the treasure they’re after.”
“Don’t you want to take our watch-dog back with you?” said Sarah. “He’s
fine at biting tramps.”
There was a laugh from the crowd. And they were still talking of ways of
protecting the island from prowlers when the sailboat ran up to the
wharf.
The campers escorted the girls to their homes and then went back to the
harbor.
On the waterfront they encountered a man—he had been a sea-captain in
his day—smoking a pipe and regarding the lights of the harbor. He knew
the boys. “Hello, Tom,” he said, “I hear you’re out on the island,
hunting for Sir Peter’s treasure.”
“Well, we’re camping on the island,” Tom admitted.
“Haven’t found the treasure yet, have you?” The mariner chuckled.
“There’s treasure hid all along the coast, if you believe the stories. I
was brought up on yarns about treasures, Captain Kidd’s and others. And
I’ve hunted for ’em, too. But I never laid my hands on none. Howsomever,
I always thought there might be something to the story about Sir Peter.
But it’s one thing to think there’s a treasure, and another to lay hands
on it.”
“Where would you look?” asked Ben.
The mariner reflected. “Well, if I was hiding a treasure I’d put it
where I could get it if I wanted it in a hurry. Seems to me I’d pick out
a place in the chimney-breast. I’ve heard of folks hiding things in
places like that.”
“Seems to me we’ve got to pull the house down,” said David. “And then
like as not we wouldn’t find it.”
“Might be so,” the mariner agreed. “It don’t pay to take too much
trouble hunting for things like that. But some people just have to.”
The four embarked in the _Argo_. “Ben’s one of the people that just have
to,” said David. “I guess he’ll pull the house down.”
“I hadn’t thought of the chimney-breast,” said Ben. “We’d better look
there to-morrow.”
“Go to it, Tige,” laughed David. “We’ll get out the pick-ax and
crow-bar.”