THE ENGINEER OF THE UNDINE.
Paul Bristol was somewhat excited after his tough conflict with the
strategetical bruiser. He was not a little startled to find that the
Billcords were still trying to punish him for defending his sister from
insult. Captain Gildrock was his friend and his mother's friend, and he
was unwilling to do anything more with the pestilent bully without his
advice and direction. He was confident that the exhibition of the stout
stick would induce Tom to tell him where the oars were; but as the
steamer was close to the shore, he preferred to take counsel before he
acted any further.
At first he forgot that the principal was not on board of the Sylph, but
it came to his mind before he reached the bulwarks. But Dory was
certainly on board, and he could advise and assist him. Passing the
painter over a stanchion, he leaped over the rail. Then it struck him as
a little strange that he saw none of the large ship's company that had
manned her when she left the wharf in Beechwater that morning.
A man who was an entire stranger to him stood on the forecastle, but not
a single Beech Hiller was to be seen. He looked up at the windows of the
pilot-house, where he expected to see the face of Oscar Chester and the
second pilot; but another stranger stood at the wheel.
"Cast off that boat!" called the man at the wheel to the one on the
forecastle.
Before Paul could interfere the deck hand had detached the painter from
the stanchion and dropped it into the water. At the same moment two
bells rang, and the steamer backed away from the point.
"What did you do that for?" demanded Paul of the deck hand.
"I have to obey my orders," replied the man.
The son of toil looked at him and wondered who he was, for he had never
seen his face before. He went to the bow and saw the Dragon, fifty feet
from him by this time, and the steamer still backing. He had been sure
of obtaining good advice and strong support from his friends on board,
but he could not even find a person that he knew.
He walked aft, and looked into the engine-room. There was a man there,
but he was bending over the machinery, and he did not see his face, but
he appeared to be a stranger like all the others he had seen. He
continued his walk to the door of the after cabin, but not a single
Beech Hiller could he find. It looked to him as though, if the thing had
been possible, the Sylph had been captured by an enemy, who were then in
full possession of her.
Paul returned to the forecastle, and again looked up at the windows of
the pilot-house. The man at the wheel appeared to be talking to some
person or persons behind him, who were not in sight. At this moment the
engine stopped again, and the steamer was at rest on the smooth water.
Paul was confident that the persons in the pilot-house had seen the
whole or a portion of the hard battle at Sandy Point, for the tree where
he had secured Tom Topover was in plain sight from the lake.
The deck hand seemed to take no notice of him, though he could not help
seeing him, and observing all his movements. As the steamer had stopped
her propeller, and run close in to the shore, she must be there for a
purpose. The last he had seen of her before the bruiser opened the
fight, she was running with tremendous speed down the lake. After that
she slowed down, and headed for the point, for he had obtained an
occasional glimpse of her even in the heat of the struggle with the
strategist.
"Is Captain Dory Dornwood on board, sir?" asked Paul, very respectfully,
of the deck hand, who had walked forward to look out.
"I don't know him," replied the man shortly, but civilly enough.
"Are none of the Beech Hill fellows on board?"
"I don't know the Beech Hill fellows," answered the man.
Paul was utterly bewildered. He looked up at the pilot-house once more
to find a solution of the mystery if he could. The stranger still stood
at the wheel, and was still talking with some one not in sight. Just
then it occurred to Paul that there was something wanting in the
appearance of the pilot-house. In the station bill he belonged on the
forecastle of the Sylph, and was more familiar with this part of her
than with any other. He studied the situation for some time before he
could determine what was wanting to complete the usual appearance of the
steamer. At last he was able to supply the deficiency. On the front and
on each side of the pilot house was a sign on which was painted the name
of the craft. They were not there; and if the strangers had captured the
Sylph they had removed these signs. There was nothing in sight to
indicate that the vessel was the Beech Hill steam yacht.
Paul looked around him on the forecastle, and some other familiar
objects were missing. Suddenly it flashed into his mind that this was
not the Sylph after all; but the absurdity of his making a mistake in
the identity of the steamer which he was accustomed to see at the wharf
in Beechwater every day, and in which he had made so many trips to
Westport and elsewhere, was so apparent to him that he instantly
rejected the idea.
To his mind, in spite of the absence of the signs on the pilot-house,
and other familiar objects, the steamer was the Sylph. The mystery of
her being in possession of other persons than the Beech Hillers seemed
to thicken upon him. She had taken position not fifty feet from the
water side, and there she lay. Paul wondered what she was waiting for,
and why she did not do something. If any person on board was to be
landed at the point, it was about time to lower one of the quarter
boats, which hung on davits abaft the engine. But nothing was done, and
no one said anything; and Paul was getting desperate.
There was a mystery about the steamer, which, in spite of the good order
which prevailed on board of her when her regular ship's company were on
duty, presented a very lively aspect. Paul was not patient in the
presence of mysteries which concerned him, as in the present instance,
for since the setting adrift of the Dragon he was practically a prisoner
on board of her. He decided to solve the problem of the strangeness of
things on the deck, and for this purpose he went aft to the ladder on
the port side which led to the hurricane deck. He was determined to have
a pow-wow with the pilot, and to ascertain who were the modest persons
that concealed themselves in the back part of his quarters.
He reached the deck on which the pilot-house stood, without impediment,
and walked to the door. It was locked, which was not usual on board of
the Sylph. He passed on to the side window, where the man at the wheel
suddenly confronted him. He had seen this man before, but he had no
acquaintance with him.
"Will you be kind enough to tell me what steamer this is?" Paul began,
in his efforts to solve the mystery.
"The Undine, of Westport," replied the pilot, for such he undoubtedly
was.
"I never heard of her before," added Paul, overwhelmed to find that she
was not the Sylph.
"As she came into the lake for the first time this morning, you were not
in the way of hearing of her," answered the man, rather stiffly.
"But she looks exactly like the Sylph, which belongs to the Beech Hill
Industrial School," said Paul, trying to get a sight of the persons on
the sofa of the room.
But the pilot kept himself directly in front of him, and he was unable
to gratify his curiosity.
"The builder has sent out at least half a dozen steam yachts of the
hundred-feet order which are so near like this one that you could not
tell the difference in them," added the pilot in answer to his remark.
"If this is not the Sylph, I have no business on board of her,"
continued Paul. "I shall be very much obliged to you if you will put me
on shore, or pick up my boat for me, though I am very sorry to trouble
you."
"You were not invited on board, and you must look out for yourself."
"Why did you cast off the painter of my boat?" asked Paul, not pleased
with the situation.
"I obey my orders."
"Who gave the order, if you please?"
"The owner," replied the pilot. "Something was going on ashore there
just before we came over here. It looked like a very hard fight between
two fellows."
"It was a hard fight," answered Paul.
"And you were one of the fellows in it?"
"I was; and the other fellow is tied to a tree on shore," replied Paul,
pointing in the direction of the tree, which he could see from his
position on the hurricane deck.
"What was it all about? Speak up a little louder, for I am rather deaf,"
added the pilot, as he glanced behind him. "Who was the other fellow?"
And the last question seemed to be prompted by the person on the sofa.
"It was Tom Topover," answered Paul; and in answer to questions put by
the pilot, he told the whole story of his affair that day with the
brilliant strategist, from the time he had appeared in the creek on his
queer-looking craft.
The pilot occasionally told him to speak louder, and at last he
concluded that he was giving the narrative for the benefit of the
concealed listeners.
"But what made Tom Topover attack you?" asked the man at the wheel.
"He was hired to do it by Major Billcord's son, Walk Billcord," replied
Paul bluntly.
"Do you mean to say that my son hired that rough to attack you?"
demanded the magnate of Westport, suddenly rushing to the door of the
pilot-house, and throwing it wide open. Close behind him was Walk
himself.
"I didn't know you were here!" exclaimed Paul, starting back with
astonishment when he saw the major; and he had not had the remotest
suspicion that he was the owner of the steam yacht, for the pilot had
prevented him from asking who owned the craft.
"No matter if you didn't know it," replied the major angrily. "I asked
you a question. Answer it!"
"Tom Topover said he was to get ten dollars from your son for doing the
job. He didn't say Mr. Walker agreed to give him the money, but there
was an understanding between them to this effect," replied Paul.
"Tom Topover is a liar!" exclaimed Walk.
"He was to do the job to-day; and you seem to be here at Sandy Point to
attend to the prisoner if Tom got him," added Paul.
Major Billcord was not in the habit of controlling his wrath, and he
made a spring at the son of toil; but Paul beat a hasty retreat, for he
dreaded another encounter with the magnate. He went aft and descended to
the main deck; but he soon discovered that he was not pursued. He heard
two bells in the engine-room, and the Undine began to back. Paul came to
a halt under the starboard quarter boat, and devoted himself to an
examination of the falls by which it was secured to the davits.
While he was thus engaged, one bell struck in the engine-room, followed
by another, and the Undine went ahead. A moment later the jingle bell
rattled, and the craft began to go at full speed. Paul heard steps on
the hurricane deck above him, and he concluded that the major and Walk
were after him. He walked astern to the doors of the main cabin. They
were open, and he decided to retreat into this apartment if he was
pursued.
"Engineer!" called Major Billcord.
"On deck, sir," replied the man in charge of the engine, as he stepped
out of his room.
The sound of the engineer's voice was a familiar one, and it startled
the son of toil as much as the sound of an earthquake would at that
moment.
"Keep an eye on that boy down on the main deck, and don't let him touch
the boats," continued Major Billcord, who suspected the purpose of the
object of his hatred. "Don't let him escape on any account, for I shall
have a reckoning with him before we part."
This looked like a threat, and Paul realized that he was in the hands of
the enemy. In spite of his imprisonment, the magnate intended to punish
him for what he had done at the point, and the poor fellow began to be
very much discouraged.
"I will see to him," replied the engineer.
The engine of the Undine was working at a moderate speed, and the
engineer walked aft to get a view of his prisoner. Paul looked at him as
he approached, for the sound of his voice had prepared him for an early
meeting. He thought no more of getting away in the boat. He gazed with
all his eyes at the man walking towards him.
"Why, father!" exclaimed he, rushing upon him with extended hand.
"Why, Paul, my son! Is it possible that it is you?" cried the engineer,
grasping the extended hand. "But come into the engine-room."
Mr. Bristol led the way, still holding his son's hand. They had scarcely
entered the apartment before there was a whistle at the speaking-tube.
"Take that boy into the engine-room, and don't let him get away," said
the magnate through the tube.
"All right; I have him here," replied the engineer. "What does all this
mean, Paul?" asked the astonished father, turning to his son.
Paul related all the events in the family history since the assault upon
Lily at the point; and the returned wanderer fully understood the feud
between Paul and the magnate. His blood boiled at the insult to his
daughter, and the persecution to which his son had been subjected. He
had put his hand on the wheel to shut off the steam, when Paul asked him
where he had been for two years, and why he had not written to his
family.
The engineer did not turn the wheel, for the wanting letters were an
imputation upon him. He was not a scholar, but he had written a score of
letters and had never had a reply to one of them. Before he left,
something had been said between himself and his wife about her going to
the home of an uncle in Iowa. He had invited them to visit him and take
care of him, for he was a bachelor. He would support them, and they
could do work enough to earn their living. They had expected to hear
from him every day at the time Peter Bristol left home.
The father had no doubt they would go there, and had directed his
letters after the first one to their new home. A few days after his
departure for New York, where he hoped to find work, the letter came
from the West to Mrs. Bristol, but it brought no hope. The writer had
bought a ranch in Texas, had married, and could do nothing for the
family of his brother. This clearly explained the miscarriage of the
letters.
Peter Bristol had worked as a fireman on a railroad. When he got to New
York he found a situation as an oiler on a steamer bound to Havana. In
Cuba he soon secured a good situation to run an engine on a plantation.
He saved his money, and did his best to find what had become of his
family. At last it occurred to him to write to the postmaster of his
brother's late residence in Iowa. Nothing was known of his family, his
brother had gone to Texas, and a score of letters for his wife had gone
to the dead-letter office.
Then he had written to a friend in Westport, and learned that his
family were still at Sandy Point, and were very poor. When this last
letter came, nearly two years after he had left home, he was filled with
sorrow and anxiety. He wrote no more letters, but started for home with
all the money he had saved. About the first person he met when he landed
in New York was Wheeler, whom he had known as a pilot on Lake Champlain.
He had been sent by Major Billcord to take his steamer, just purchased,
up to the lake by the way of the Hudson and the canal. He wanted an
engineer, and, after a deal of talk, employed Peter Bristol.
Wheeler had his doubts about the competency of Bristol. The magnate
wanted a suitable engineer, and would give him good wages. He might
object to a man who had been known on the lake as nothing but a boatman.
Peter wanted the place, and had been running an engine for two years.
Wheeler agreed to do what he could for him with the magnate; but he
thought it best for him not to say who he was for the present. Time and
the tropical sun had so changed him that he was not likely to recognize
him if he was careful.
Peter Bristol had served as engineer on the way up, and Major Billcord
and Walk had joined the vessel at Whitehall in the morning. The steamer
was on trial, and the major wanted her run at her highest speed a part
of the time. The magnate had hardly looked at the engineer, he was so
interested in the machinery and the craft, and Bristol had had no
trouble in concealing his identity so far. This was the story he told
Paul, and repeated to his wife and Lily in the evening.
Paul had looked out at the door and saw that the Undine was near
Westport. She did not go to the shore, but when she came about and
headed down the lake again, Peter Bristol turned the wheel and shut off
the steam. There was a ringing of the bell, and then a call through the
tube.
"I shall run her no longer!" replied the engineer, emphatically, at the
mouthpiece.
Major Billcord came below, followed by Walk. Mr. Bristol stated his
position, and took no further pains to conceal his identity. The father
spoke to him like a man, and insisted upon being landed at Westport with
his son. The magnate was taken all aback. He could do nothing without an
engineer, and he could not punish Paul in the presence of his father.
The engineer would take the steamer up to the wharf, but in no other
direction. The magnate had to yield, and father and son, both the
Bristol and the Billcord, landed.
Lily was found, and she had a joyful meeting with her father. Bissell
was very willing to loan his four-oar boat to convey them to Beech Hill.
On the way they released Tom Topover, and, putting him into the Dragon,
towed him back to Hornet Point. The happy re-union in the transplanted
cottage need not be described.