THE STRANGE MOVEMENT OF THE ISLANDER.
Cobbington had engaged the additional waiter. His name was Reel
Bendick, as he spelled it out to me; and he seemed to be an intelligent
and docile man. He was to wait on the table in the fore-cabin, while
Tom Sands was to continue in the after-cabin, where he had always been
assisted by the steward, and on great occasions by Washington Gopher,
the accomplished cook who had come all the way from Detroit.
With these exceptions our crew remained the same as before.
Since our return from up the St. Johns, everything about the Sylvania
had been put in perfect order for sea. Moses Brickland, the engineer,
had overhauled the machinery and the boiler, and we had a full supply
of coal in the bunkers. I went all over the vessel, and assured myself
that everything was in order.
"I suppose there is no doubt about our leaving in the morning, is
there, Captain Alick?" asked Bob Washburn, the mate, as we seated
ourselves in the captain's cabin, after we had both been all over the
deck and the cabins.
"Of course I don't know anything more about that than you do, but I
think there cannot be much doubt of it," I replied. "We shall have no
passengers but my father, the Tiffanys, and my cousin."
"Does Owen Garningham go with us, Alick?" asked Washburn, with
astonishment.
"He told me this afternoon he had no invitation to go in the Islander,
and my father said he would have none," I replied.
"Then your father thinks there has been too much spooning on board,"
added Washburn, laughing.
"Probably Colonel Shepard thinks so too, and that may be the reason why
he decided to go in the Islander instead of in the Sylvania."
"I should think it would be better to separate Owen and Miss Edith
until each shall have a chance to make up his mind."
"Owen seems to be very much attached to Miss Edith, and their being
together all the time may result in something very serious. He is a
young fellow of twenty, and I doubt if he knows his own mind; he is
fascinated by a pretty face."
"There is no doubt of that; and the face is as pretty a one as I ever
saw," added Washburn, with emphasis.
"My father says Owen's mother is very rich, and that she is more afraid
he will fall into some entangling alliance of this sort, than she is of
his becoming a drunkard, or becoming a bad man," I continued, recalling
some of the conversations my father had had with me.
"They say Colonel Shepard is rich enough to satisfy even an English
nabob," suggested the mate.
"I suppose Owen's mother expects him to marry a duchess," I replied. "I
saw her when I was in England; but she had no love for me, and I have
no doubt she wished I had never turned up."
"I should say that Edith Shepard was good enough for any fellow, even
if he were an earl or a duke," said Washburn, shrugging his shoulders.
"Luckily it is none of our affair, though my sympathies are all with
Owen," I added. "I wonder if Nick Boomsby came on board this
afternoon," I continued, willing to change the subject.
I called Cobbington into our room, and was informed that Nick had been
on board, and had been treated with distinguished consideration.
"Did he say anything about going with us, Cobbington?" I asked.
"He only said he should like to go with us, but you would not allow him
to do so, and he had given up all thought about it," replied the new
steward. "Besides, he said he was the important witness in a law-case
that would come up to-morrow morning."
"I don't believe he would stay for the law-case if I would give him a
berth on board," I added.
I related the particulars of the robbery of the messenger, and
Cobbington commented on them at some length. I found that he knew the
messenger, and had not a very high respect for him. He had his doubts
whether there was any four thousand dollars in the transaction. It
looked more to him as though the messenger had arranged the affair so
that he could appropriate the money to his own use. Cobbington had
worked with Buckner, who was a poor man, and had come to Florida, like
himself, to save his life.
"Why did Nick jump over the counter, and chase Buckner, then? Nick says
he saw Buckner take the package from the counter, and run out at the
front door," I added.
"I don't know anything about the matter, except that I would trust
Buckner farther than I would Peverell," persisted the steward. "A bank
messenger that means to be honest don't go into a bar-room and put four
thousand dollars down on the counter; not every day in the week, at
least. I don't believe Buckner took the package; if he had it would
have been found on him when the policeman caught him."
We could not get ahead any further than those on shore had in solving
the mysterious disappearance of the treasure. At an early hour I turned
in, and Washburn soon followed me. After dark I cautioned the
anchor-watch not to let any person come on board. I was afraid that
Nick Boomsby would try to become a stowaway on board of the steamer,
and thus give his father an additional grudge against me. But I soon
went to sleep and forgot all about Nick.
I was up at five in the morning. Before I washed my face and made my
toilet, I went on deck to take a look at the weather, as I generally
did at sea, or when we were on the point of sailing. It was cloudy and
thick; but I thought it probable that it would clear off as the day
advanced. The smoke was pouring out of the smoke-stack of the Islander,
as well as of the Sylvania. If the weather was not bad enough to make
me think of delaying our departure, it was still not so pleasant as I
desired for a start.
I dressed myself, and looked the vessel over again. Our party would
breakfast before they came on board, and we had nothing to do yet but
look after ourselves. At six o'clock we took our morning meal. As soon
as it was cleared away, I ordered the anchor up, and we ran in to
Market Wharf to take on board our passengers.
Before we reached the wharf I saw a boat board the Islander; but she
was too far off for me to determine who was in the craft. It was still
only half-past-six, and I did not expect our passengers for half an
hour or more. I went on shore to walk through the market. It seemed
very odd to me to find all sorts of green things, such as green peas,
cucumbers, spinach, new turnips, carrots, and most other vegetables,
which I had not been in the habit of seeing till July and August. But
we had been eating such things, including strawberries, for a month,
and many of them all winter in the West Indies.
"The Islander is under way," said Washburn, as I sauntered along the
wharf.
"Probably she is going to run in for her passengers, as we have done,"
I replied.
"She don't seem to be headed for the wharf, but down the river," added
the mate.
I went on board, and then to the hurricane deck, where I could obtain a
good view of her. I was confident that her passengers had not gone on
board of her, for we had seen nothing but a boat with two persons in it
go alongside the Islander. The party consisted of four persons, and two
of them were ladies. They could not have gone on board of her without
our seeing them.
"It don't look as though she was running in to a wharf," said Washburn,
joining me on the hurricane deck.
"Very likely she is taking a little run down the river so that her new
captain can see how she works," I added, without a suspicion that
anything was wrong about our twin sister. "It isn't seven yet, and she
is taking a little turn before she goes up to the wharf."
"Of course it is all right," replied Washburn. "Her captain is as salt
as a barrel of brine, and knows all about steamers."
We waited fifteen minutes longer, till I heard a clock strike seven,
but the Islander continued on her course down the river. I knew she had
been ordered to be ready to sail at seven, and I did not suppose
Captain Blastblow would willingly fail to be on time. While I was
watching the movements of our consort, the baggage of our party arrived
at the end of the wharf, and, a few minutes later, a carriage came
bringing our passengers.
I had no more time to study the affairs of the Islander. My father, Mr.
Tiffany and Miss Margie were in the carriage, and I was permitted to
help the young lady out, and escort her to the deck. I was a little
afraid of my father calling me a "spoon," and I was careful not to
overdo myself in politeness.
"How long before you sail, Captain Alick?" asked my fair companion.
"Immediately," I replied. "The Islander has already gone, but I think
she must return."
"May I go into the pilot-house, captain?"
"Certainly; I shall be delighted to have you there."
"How much I shall miss Edith!" exclaimed Miss Margie, as I gave her the
best seat in the pilot-house. "I think it is a great pity that we could
not all go together in the same steamer."
"I should have been very glad to have the Shepards on board," I
replied. "I suppose Colonel Shepard prefers to sail in his own yacht,
as I think I should if I were in his place. But we shall be within hail
of each other most of the time, and you can visit Miss Edith about
every day after we get into the Mississippi River."
"I am told the Mississippi is a very large river," mused Miss Margie.
"Can you see across it, Captain Alick?"
"No doubt of it," I answered, laughing. "It is not more than a mile
wide, as a rule. You must be thinking of the Amazon, which is a hundred
and fifty miles wide near its mouth. Vessels must get out of sight of
land in crossing it, near the ocean."
"We are all on board, Alick, except Owen," said my father, coming into
the pilot-house. "He should not keep us waiting."
"Perhaps he has decided to go in the other steamer," I suggested.
But I had hardly spoken the words before Owen came on board. He did not
seem to be in despair at his separation from his "bright particular
star," and was in excellent humor when he joined us in the pilot-house.
"Where are the rest of your party, Owen?" I asked.
"Merciful hotandsplosh! Haven't you found out yet that they are going
on the Islander?" demanded Owen.
"I haven't seen them go on board of her yet," I added.
"They took a carriage to the wharf near the boat-house, and I took one
to come here," replied Owen. "They must be on board of her by this
time."
"I think not. The Islander has gone down the river," I answered, as I
ordered the fasts to be cast off.
I backed the Sylvania on the stern line to clear her from the wharf,
and then rang to go ahead. Our voyage around Florida had actually
begun, and I was duly exhilarated by the fact. The Islander had gone
around the bend of the river, and I could see only her masts and
rigging. The wind was blowing fresh from the southwest, and I was not a
little astonished to see that her crew were shaking out her
fore-topsail. This did not indicate that her captain intended to return
to the wharf for his passengers.
"Colonel Shepard and his family must have gone on board of her at least
a quarter of an hour before seven, Owen," I said, unable to account for
the movements of the Islander in any other way.
"But they did not leave the colonel's house till five minutes of
seven--at the same time I started to come here," replied Owen. "What
has happened? What is the matter?"
"I don't know that anything is the matter," I replied. "The Islander
got under way about half-past six, and I supposed she was going to take
a turn on the river before she went up to the wharf. Instead of that
she has been moving steadily down the river since she got up her
anchor; and there she is, three or four miles on her way to the ocean."
"Sylvania, ahoy!" shouted some one on the shore.
On the pier, near the club-house, were the Shepard party; and it was
the colonel who had hailed us. They seemed to be quite as much
astonished as we were. I ran the steamer up to the wharf.