OUT ON CASCO BAY
The Rover boys listened with close attention to the statement made by the
captain of the schooner and they felt that the fellow was now telling the
truth.
“You say you suspected that all wasn’t square?” said Dick, after a pause.
“What made you do that?”
“Why—er—the way the lady acted. She seemed to be more scared than crazy.
But they kept her down in the cabin, so I didn’t see much of her.”
“When did you land the crowd on the island?”
“About nine o’clock this morning.”
“Were you going back there later?”
“No, they said it wouldn’t be necessary.”
Dick walked to the rail of the schooner and beckoned to the captain of
the steam tug.
“This captain says he landed the crowd on Chesoque Island,” he called
out. “Do you know where that is?”
“I know where she is,” put in Larry Dixon, as Captain Wells hesitated in
thought. “The lobster catchers used to have a hangout there.”
“Where is it?” asked Captain Wells, and the old tar described its
location as well as he could.
“Reckon I could pick it up, from what the man says,” said the captain of
the tug, to Dick.
“All right then,” answered the eldest Rover. He turned again to the
captain of the schooner. “Now listen to me. I know you and I know your
boat. If you have told me the exact truth, well and good. If you
haven’t—well, you’ll have to take the consequences, that’s all.”
“I didn’t abduct nobody. I only did a job and got paid for it,” muttered
the captain.
“Where are you bound?”
“Portland.”
“And after that?”
“Going to—er—take a load of lumber down to Newark, New Jersey.”
“Very well—then we’ll know where to locate you. Come on!” added Dick to
his brothers.
“You can rely on me,” said the captain, and spoke quite respectfully.
“I’ll tell all I know, and so will my men.”
“Hello, Jack!” cried Larry Dixon to a sailor on the schooner, and the
fellow addressed waved his hand.
“I’ll talk to that man a minute,” said Dick, to the captain. The latter
wished to demur, but Dick gave him no chance. The fellow was told to go
aboard the tug, and there Larry Dixon asked him to tell his story. The
sailor had little, however, to add to what his captain had said,
excepting that the landing at Chesoque Island had been made in something
of a hurry.
“Here’s a dollar for you,” said Dick, on parting. “Whenever the schooner
makes a landing anywhere, you send me word where she is,” and he gave the
tar his home address and also the address of a hotel in Portland.
“Don’t try to get me into trouble and I’ll tell you everything I know!”
shouted the captain of the schooner, as the steam tug went on its way.
“I’ll remember you!” answered Dick, somewhat grimly. He did not know
whether he could trust the captain or not.
Leaving the entrance to Portland Harbor, the tug steamed up into the
waters of Casco Bay, that beautiful spot with its scores of verdant and
rocky islands. As it was the height of the summer season they passed many
pleasure boats, big and little. Once they passed an island where a big
picnic was in progress and they heard the music from a band quite
distinctly. They also passed Peak’s Island where there was a big,
round-topped structure, which the captain of the tug said was a famous
summer theater.
“A fellow could certainly have a dandy time here, cruising around among
the islands,” was Tom’s comment.
From Larry Dixon the boys learned that Chesoque Island was away from most
of the others, lying far out in the Bay. It was a rocky place, and there
was a story that once a band of smugglers had used it for a rendezvous.
It was also said to be inhabited by numerous snakes.
“Excuse me, but I don’t want to run up against any snakes,” said Sam,
shuddering.
“Neither do I,” added Tom.
“No snakes shall stop me from trying to locate Mrs. Stanhope,” said Dick.
“More than likely the story about snakes has little foundation to it.”
“Like the story about the snakes back of Putnam Hall,” said Tom. “Old
Farmer Landell said there were thousands of ’em, and he and his son
killed exactly five, and only little ones at that.”
Presently a distant shore loomed up and after an examination Larry Dixon
declared it was the island for which they were seeking.
“Are you sure?” questioned Dick. “This is very important, and we don’t
want to make any mistake.”
“I know the spot,” answered the old tar. “See that old building? The
lobster catchers used to use that. And see that rock? There is where the
old John Spurr struck, in a storm one winter.”
“Well, I don’t want to strike anything,” said Captain Wells, and ordered
the engineer to reduce speed. Then, with great caution, they approached
what had once been a good dock, but one which was now practically in
ruins.
“Hello, there’s a motor boat!” cried Sam, as they came closer. Then all
looked and saw that a gaudily-painted motor boat was tied up on one side
of the old dock.
“Say, that looks like the motor boat Koswell, Larkspur and that stranger
had!” ejaculated Dick.
“It is the same!” shouted Tom. “There is the name, Magnet. Now what do
you think of that!”
“What do I think?” said Dick. “I think they must be here.”
“With Sobber and the others?”
“I don’t know about that. I didn’t think they knew Sobber.”
As the steam tug drew up on the other side of the dilapidated dock, those
on board saw three persons rush from the old building nearby. They were
Koswell, Larkspur and the fellow who had been running the motor boat.
“Say, I won’t have this!” roared Koswell. “You get out of here, and be
quick about it!”
“Can’t we stop ’em from landing?” asked Larkspur. He was plainly scared.
“You can’t land here!” called out the young man who had run the Magnet.
“This is private property. I forbid you coming in.”
“Private property?” called out Captain Wells.
“That is what I said.” And now the young man turned to his companions and
a whispered, but animated conversation ensued.
“Who are you?” asked Dick.
“I am Alfred Darkingham. This island belongs to my uncle, John
Darkingham. He gave us permission to come camping here, and said we
needn’t let anybody else come ashore. I forbid your making a landing.”
“That’s the way to talk, Alf!” cried Koswell, in a low, but earnest
voice. “Make ’em stay away.”
“Yes! Yes! don’t let ’em come ashore!” added Larkspur.
“Mr. Darkingham, I’d like to talk to you,” said Dick, as the steam tug
bumped against the dock.
“Don’t you listen to him, Alf!” cried Koswell. “He only came to make
trouble.”
“Make him go right away,” added Larkspur.
“I want you to leave,” ordered Alfred Darkingham. Evidently he was a
close crony to the boys who had run away from Brill.
“I want to ask you a few questions,” pursued Dick, firmly. “And I’ll not
go away until you answer them—and maybe not then.”
“This is private property, and—”
“You said that before. What I want to know is, Do you know the other
persons on this island?”
“There are no other persons.”
“I believe otherwise. A lady has been abducted, and I have every reason
to believe she was taken to this island.”
“Nobody here. I was here yesterday, and all of last week, and I know.”
“I think they brought the lady here this morning, about nine o’clock. I’d
like to search the island for her.”
“It’s a trick!” cried Larkspur. “It’s a trick to get ashore and play us
foul! Don’t you let ’em land!”
“There is nobody on this island but ourselves,” said Alfred Darkingham.
“You can take my word for that.”
“Will you let me make a search?”
“I will not. I want you to go away, and at once. This is private
property, and if you try to land I’ll have the law on you!” And as he
spoke the young man looked not only at the Rovers but also at the captain
of the steam tug.