GILBERT REACHES A CONCLUSION
“If that fellow has been playing me for a fool, he had better look out
for himself!”
Such was the conclusion which Nuggy Polk reached, after thinking over
what he had learned and what had taken place between himself and
Gilbert since the two had met on the road outside of Manila. The young
man was thoroughly out of humor, and was aching to “pitch into” the
young lieutenant.
“Well, Nuggy, you look as black as a thunder-cloud,” said Jerry
Nickerson, as he strolled up. “Don’t take what I said so much to heart.
I only wanted to give you a friendly bit of advice.”
“I know you did; and it’s too bad that you didn’t give it to me
before,” answered the young man, bitterly, and before he had a chance
to think twice.
“Why, what do you mean? Has something happened?”
“It has and it hasn’t. That lieutenant’s name is Pennington--Gilbert
Pennington--instead of just Gilbert. He deceived me when he introduced
himself.”
“Perhaps you didn’t catch his full name.”
“I am sure I caught what he said. Don’t you suppose, if he had said
Pennington, I should have remembered it?”
“Possibly not. A fellow doesn’t remember all the names he hears.”
“But this case is different, Jerry. The name Pennington is one I shall
remember, no matter where I hear it.”
Jerry Nickerson looked puzzled for a moment, and then emitted a low
whistle. “By Jove! I had forgotten. It was a Jefferson Pennington who
started the Richmond Importing Company, and whose widow gave your
father so much trouble.”
“Exactly; and, for all I know, this lieutenant may be some relative of
that man. He comes from Virginia.”
“That is rather far-fetched. Still, it may be; and, if I were you, I’d
be for finding out.”
“I will find out--and pretty quick, too.”
“Hold on! You mustn’t let him know you are suspicious, Nuggy. Go to
somebody else, and find out.”
“I am not afraid of him; and, if he has been playing the sneak, I’ll
give him a bit of my mind, I can tell you that.”
“You must remember that he is an officer, and that his colonel is in
control here. If you do anything rash, the young officer may have you
put in the brig for it.”
“Do you think they would dare to go as far as that?” questioned Nuggy,
looking much disturbed.
“They would dare do almost anything. On an expedition like this,
private citizens are counted as being in the way, at the best.”
“Then, of course, I’ll have to pull in my horns, Jerry. But it makes me
mad to think he may have been imposing on me.”
“If I were you, I’d try to find out something about him from the other
soldiers; and, if he really is a relative to Jefferson Pennington, and
is trying to pump you in order to get money out of your father, then
I’d run a game up his back.”
“How?”
“I wouldn’t let him know what I had learned, and I’d continue to treat
him as a friend; and at the same time I’d let drop that I was doing
things on the square, and that the Penningtons had got all that was
coming to them out of the Importing Company.”
This advice seemed to strike Nuggy Polk’s fancy, and he said that he
would follow it. For the rest of the day he avoided Gilbert, and spent
the time in trying to find somebody who could give him something of the
young lieutenant’s history.
By chance he struck Carl Stummer, whom he had seen in conversation
with Gilbert a number of times. Stummer had taken greatly to the young
lieutenant ever since the pair had been thrown together, and knew a
good deal of the young officer’s past.
“Your first lieutenant seems to be a popular man,” said Nuggy Polk, by
way of an opening.
“Lieutenant Pennington vos von goot fellow,” answered Stummer. “Of all
dere officers vos so goot, der army vould been a baradise, almost.”
“I understand he is a Southerner, like myself.”
“Dot vos so; but he vos in New York ven he got der var fever, und
enlisted mit der Rough Riders for Cuba. You neffer enlisted, eh?”
“No. I--er--couldn’t get away from business.”
“Vot you vos do on der dransport, den? Maype you vos von newsbaber man?”
“That’s a little in my line. Here, have a cigar.” Nuggy Polk passed
over a weed. “I am interested in the lieutenant. Did you ever hear of
what business he was in?”
“I dink he vos a pook-keeper ven der var proke out.”
“I used to know some Penningtons down South,” went on Nuggy Polk,
boldly. “They were in an importing company at Richmond.”
“Der lieutenant’s fadder vos vonce in an imborting company in Richmond.
I heard him tell mine friend Captain Russell so von tay.”
“Indeed!” Nuggy Polk paused a moment. “Well, it doesn’t matter
particularly,” he went on; and then asked Carl Stummer about his
life in the army, and spoke of what might be expected in China, thus
trying to put the German soldier “off the track,” as he afterward told
Nickerson.
Nuggy Polk had learned enough to convince him that Gilbert was either
the son of Jefferson Pennington or closely related to the dead man; and
the news disturbed him a good deal.
“For all I know, he may have been spying on me in Manila,” he said to
Nickerson.
“I don’t see how he can possibly hurt you,” was the reply. “Perhaps he
knows little or nothing of the past.”
“Then what was his object in introducing himself as Lieutenant Gilbert?
I half believe he followed us from Manila. The clerk at the hotel said
something about his being there earlier in the day, although I didn’t
pay any attention to it at the time.”
“As an officer in the army, he has got to attend to his official
duties. If I were you, I’d leave him severely alone; and I believe
the whole thing will drop then and there. Even if he is Jefferson
Pennington’s son, he can’t rake up that old claim, can he?”
“I don’t know but that he can. Your father was the lawyer who passed on
the papers in the case, and you have had all his records since he died.
You ought to know more about it than I do.”
At this, Jerry Nickerson’s face took on a cunning look. “I do know a
good deal, and don’t deny it. But I reckon your father is safe--if he
keeps his mouth shut.”
“This Pennington may combine with Amos Bartlett. I was foolish enough
to name Bartlett to him.”
“Yes, that was a bad move, Nuggy. After this you must be as mum as an
oyster.”
Nuggy Polk agreed to this, yet he felt very much as if he was locking
the stable door after the horse was stolen. It is said that “a guilty
conscience is its own accuser,” and it was largely so in the present
instance.
On the third day out, the island of Formosa was sighted far in the
west; and the course was now north-north-east, past numerous small
islands and rocks, straight for Nagasaki, which lies, as many of my
young readers must know, close to the entrance to the Yellow Sea. The
weather continued to be all that was desired, and many a soldier, tired
out with his campaigning in the Philippines, wished that the voyage
might last a long time.
“Sure, an’ it almost makes me wisht I was a sailor,” observed Dan
Casey. “A loife on the rollin’ dape seems jest to suit me.”
“You have your sea legs now, Dan,” replied Gilbert, who stood by. “But
you didn’t have them when we came to the Philippines.”
“Mine cracious, dot’s so!” laughed Carl Stummer. “Ton’t you rememper
how ve rolled und pitched around like ve vos rupper palls?” he added to
Casey.
“Sure, an’ I do that,” responded the Irishman. “An’ do yez remimber the
hurricane, an’ how it thundered an’ lightninged?”
“Excuse me, put I ton’t vont no sthorm,” said Carl. “Dot vos enough to
last a whole life und two veeks more, py chiminy!” And he shook his
head gravely.
A moment later he saw Nuggy Polk pass, in company with Nickerson, and
called Gilbert’s attention to the pair.
“Dot man on der outside vos ask me apout you, lieutenant,” he said. “He
seemed to pe anxious to know you.”
“Indeed?” said Gilbert. “What did he ask you?”
As well as he could, Stummer repeated the conversation he had had with
Nuggy Polk. The reader can well imagine that the young lieutenant
listened with interest.
“I am much obliged, Carl,” he said at the conclusion. “I’ll have a
talk with the fellow later on.” And then he walked away, to think the
matter over.
He was much perplexed, and hardly knew what to do next. Would it be
possible to corner Polk, and, if so, would the game be worth the candle?
“The thing happened so many years ago, and at the best the matter would
drag through the courts, perhaps for years,” he reasoned. “And to
prosecute the Polks would take a lot of money, which I haven’t got. It
looks like a wild-goose chase.”
Major Morris found him seated on a camp-chair in a corner of the deck,
deep in thought. The sun had set far over the land in the west; and the
stars were peeping forth one by one, dotting the flowing and rolling
ocean with innumerable tiny lights. At the bow of the transport a dozen
soldiers were singing,--one old favorite of home after another,--and at
the stern somebody was strumming a banjo, and two privates were doing a
“buck and wing” dance to the delight of the onlookers.
“You look serious, lieutenant,” observed the major, as he dropped in a
chair beside Gilbert.
“I feel a bit serious,” was the answer, with a quiet smile. “Major, I
should like your advice.”
“You are welcome to it. Do you want to know what I think of that young
man you pointed out to me?”
“Yes.”
“I think he is an equal compound of conceit and slyness,--a fellow who
is to be trusted as far as you can see him, and no more.”
“He has taken the pains to find out who I am.”
“I don’t wonder at it. I am surprised he didn’t do so before.”
“As he now knows who I am, he must know that I am interested in the
case which my mother brought against the Richmond Importing Company.”
“Undoubtedly, and he will do all he can to head you off--providing
you make any movement he thinks detrimental to his or his father’s
interests.”
“That is what I have been thinking, and I’m wondering if it would be
worth while to fight the thing.”
“Not unless you can get direct evidence against the elder Polk. If I
were you, I’d try to hunt up this Amos Bartlett the first chance I got.”
“I’ll do that.”
“He may know something, or be able to put you on the track of
something.”
“I hope he proves a friend.”
“Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad plan to write to some first-class lawyer
in Richmond, asking him to look the matter up for you. Very often you
can get a lawyer to take up a case on shares, if he thinks there is
money in it.”
“That’s an idea!” cried Gilbert. “I know a lawyer, a good fellow, named
Branders, whom I met in Cuba. He was from Richmond, and I know he’ll do
all he can for me.”
“Then write to him by all means, stating your case in detail, and tell
him that you are going to hunt up Amos Bartlett, if you can.”
“I suppose I can mail the letter at Nagasaki.”
“To be sure, and it will go quicker than if you had mailed it at
Manila.”
“This Polk seems to be very thick with Nickerson. I wonder if they have
talked me over between them.”
“If they talk your case over, it is a pity that you can’t hear what is
said,” returned the major, pointedly. “I believe I would watch every
move they make, so far as was in my power.”
“I will.”
“Polk is no doubt your enemy; and you have a perfect right to get the
better of him, if you can.”
By this time others were coming up, Captain Banner and two under
officers; and the talk became general, the coming campaign in China
being, however, the chief topic of conversation.
Gilbert was sitting with his back to a window opening into the upper
cabin of the transport. As the topic of conversation shifted, a form
arose from a settee standing in the cabin, close to the window, the
sash of which had been lowered to let in the air. The form was that of
Jerry Nickerson, and the young man had taken in all that had been said.
“So he is going to write to Ralph Branders, eh?” he muttered, as he
strode off. “And he is going to sound Amos Bartlett, too. I reckon this
will make interesting news for Nuggy. I’ll have to hunt him up at once,
and see what he has to say about it.”