The Motor Boat Club at the Golden Gate
OR
A Thrilling Capture in the Great Fog
By
H. IRVING HANCOCK
Author of The Motor Boat Club of the Kennebec, The Motor Boat Club at
Nantucket, The Motor Boat Club off Long Island, The Motor Boat Club and
the Wireless, The Motor Boat Club in Florida, etc., etc.
Illustrated
PHILADELPHIA
HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY HOWARD E. ALTEMUS
[Illustration: "I Trust You, But I'll Hold Onto the Pitcher."
_Frontispiece._]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. TOM HALSTEAD, KNIGHT OF THE OVERLAND MAIL, 7
II. HAZING, M. B. C. K. STYLE, 22
III. CAPTAIN TOM'S NEW COMMAND, 34
IV. HALSTEAD IS LET INTO A SECRET, 52
V. A HUNT IN THE UNDER-WORLD, 59
VI. FACING THE YELLOW BARRIER, 68
VII. DICK TAKES THE RESCUE BOAT TRICK, 81
VIII. THE REAL KENNEBEC WAY, 94
IX. THE CHASE OF THEIR LIVES, 100
X. COMING TO CLOSE, DANGEROUS QUARTERS, 111
XI. GASTON GIDDINGS MAKES TROUBLE, 122
XII. TOO-WHOO-OO! IS THE WORD, 129
XIII. THE CALL FROM OUT OF THE FOG, 136
XIV. MR. CRAGTHORPE IS MORE THAN TROUBLESOME, 146
XV. THE MIDNIGHT ALARM, 155
XVI. THE FIRE DRILL IN EARNEST, 164
XVII. CRAGTHORPE INTRODUCES HIS REAL SELF, 172
XVIII. A TRICK MADE FOR TWO, 183
XIX. TED DYER, SAILOR BY MARRIAGE, 196
XX. THE FIND IN THE FOREHOLD, 206
XXI. ON A BLIND TRAIL OF THE SEA, 213
XXII. A STERN LOOMS UP IN THE FOG, 222
XXIII. ROLLINGS'S LAST RUSE, 228
XXIV. CONCLUSION, 243
The Motor Boat Club at The Golden Gate
CHAPTER I
TOM HALSTEAD, KNIGHT OF THE OVERLAND MAIL
"I feel it in my bones," announced Joe Dawson, quietly though
positively.
"That's no talk for an engineer," jibed Tom Halstead. "Tell me, instead,
that you read it in your gauge."
"Oh, laugh, if you want to," nodded Dawson, showing no offense. "But
you'll find that I'm right. You know, I don't often make predictions."
"Yet, this time, you feel that something disastrous is going to happen
before this train rolls out on the mole at Oakland? In other words,
before we set foot in San Francisco?"
"No, I don't say quite that," objected Joe, thoughtfully. "There's a
heap of the navigator about you, Tom Halstead, and you're pinning me
down to the map and the chronometer. I won't predict quite as closely as
that. But, either before we reach 'Frisco, or mighty soon after we get
there, something is going to happen."
"And it's going to be a disaster?" questioned Tom, closely.
"For someone, yes; and we're going to be in it, at great risk."
"Well, it's a comfort to have it narrowed down even as closely as that,"
smiled Tom Halstead. "I hope it isn't going to be another earthquake,
though."
"No," agreed Joe, thoughtfully.
"Oh, well, that much of your prediction will comfort the people of San
Francisco, anyway."
"Now, you're laughing at me again," grinned Joe, good-naturedly.
"No; I'm not," protested Halstead, but belied himself by the twinkle in
his eyes, and by whistling softly the air of a popular song that the
boys had heard in a New York theatre just before leaving for the West.
At the present moment both boys were sitting comfortably facing each
other in their section in a sleeping car on the luxurious Overland Mail.
It was early forenoon. They had left Sacramento behind some time before,
on the last stretch of the run across the state of California.
Joe Dawson was riding facing forward. Tom Halstead, in the seat
opposite, half lolled at the window-ledge, with his back toward the
engine. Both boys had slept well on their last night out from San
Francisco. Both had breakfasted heartily, that morning, in the dining
car now left behind at the state capital. The next thing that would
interest them, so far as they could now guess, would be their arrival at
Oakland, and the subsequent ferry trip that would land them in San
Francisco.
It may seem a curious fact to the reader, but neither Tom Halstead nor
Joe Dawson knew just what new phases of life awaited them in the City by
the Golden Gate. They were engaged to enter the employment of a man who
owned a motor yacht. The owner had agreed to their own terms in the way
of salary, and he was paying all their expenses on this luxurious trip
westward. Moreover, the same owner had engaged some of the other members
of the Motor Boat Club of the Kennebec, as will soon be told.
Readers of the preceding volumes of this series are already well
acquainted with bright, energetic, loyal and capable Tom Halstead, who,
from the start, had held the post of fleet captain of the Motor Boat
Club. The same readers are equally familiar with the career of Joe
Dawson, fleet engineer of the Club.
As narrated in "THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB OF THE KENNEBEC," Tom and Joe were
two boys of seafaring stock, and natives of Maine, having been born
near the mouth of the Kennebec River. That first volume detailed how the
two young men served aboard the "Sunbeam," the motor yacht of a Boston
broker, and how the boys aided the Government officers in solving the
mystery of Smugglers' Island. Out of those adventures arose the founding
of the Club, with Tom and Joe at its head.
In "THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB AT NANTUCKET" the two boys were again seen to
great advantage. There they had some most lively sea adventures, all
centering around the abduction of the Dunstan heir. Next, as told in
"THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB OFF LONG ISLAND," the motor boat boys played an
exciting part in the balking of a great Wall Street conspiracy. In
recognition of their services at this time, the man whom they most
helped presented them with a fifty-five foot cruising motor boat, which
the two proud young owners named the "Restless." Afterwards they
installed a wireless telegraph apparatus on the boat, and then came one
of their truly famous cruises, as related in "THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB AND
THE WIRELESS," wherein wireless telegraphy was employed in ferreting out
one of the great mysteries of the sea.
"THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB IN FLORIDA" described the sea wanderings of Captain
Tom and Engineer Joe in the Gulf waters, and their subsequent
adventures in the Everglades and at Tampa, including the laying of the
Ghost of Alligator Swamp.
From time to time other seafaring boys, whose experience aboard motor
yachts qualified them, were elected members of the Motor Boat Club, an
organization which now boasted some forty members along the Atlantic
seaboard. Several of these boys had made themselves barely less famous
than had Halstead and Dawson.
Broker George Prescott, of Boston, their first employer and founder of
the Club, was still their staunch friend. So, too, in scarcely less
degree, was Francis Delavan, a Wall Street financier to whom Tom and Joe
had rendered most valuable services.
It was through Mr. Delavan that Halstead and Dawson had secured their
present engagement, the details of which they did not yet know. This
engagement had come just as the young men were leaving Florida waters in
January, preparatory to making their way to New York, near which great
city the "Restless" was now laid up, out of commission at present,
though as seaworthy a boat as ever.
Tom had been allowed to engage Jeff Randolph, the Florida member of the
Club, for this new, unknown enterprise. Jeff was believed to be either
on his way, or already in San Francisco, at the Palace Hotel, on Market
Street, which was to be the meeting place of the motor boat boys.
Yet there were other old friends due to meet the fleet captain and fleet
engineer. Mr. Delavan had also engaged, by wire, Dick Davis and Ab
Perkins, of Maine, now back from a famous trip to Brazil as told in "THE
MOTOR BOAT CLUB AND THE WIRELESS." Jed Prentiss, a Nantucket member of
the Club, was also on his way to or in San Francisco to join them,
thanks to Mr. Prescott's interest. How Jed joined the Club, and proved
himself more than worthy, was all told in "THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB AT
NANTUCKET."
The name of the San Francisco man who had engaged six members of the
Motor Boat Club to cross the continent was Joseph Baldwin. Beyond this
the boys knew nothing of him, save that Francis Delavan had vouched for
him. That was enough. Not even the name of Baldwin's craft was known to
the seafaring boys who were crossing the continent.
"I wonder if Mr. Baldwin will be at Oakland, to meet us?" asked Joe, as
the train sped evenly, swiftly along.
"It isn't likely," replied Tom. "He has told us where to report. I fancy
he considers that enough."
"A man might get a boat's crew together a good deal more cheaply,"
mused Joe, aloud. "Our fellows that Mr. Baldwin has engaged are all
top-notchers in the way of salary. With such a crew it's going to cost
our man a good deal to keep his boat running."
"You know the reputation that California millionaires have, Joe,"
laughed his chum. "It is said of them that they'd sooner spend money
than keep it drawing interest."
"Still," pondered Joe Dawson, "I don't believe California people like to
pitch money out of the window any better than people of other sections
do."
"It has struck me," Tom went on, "that we're engaged by a man who is
running a racing boat. If that is so, and we can get the top speed out
of his craft, then I suppose Mr. Baldwin wouldn't consider the matter of
expense at all. All he wants, in that case, is to win cups and build a
big reputation for his boat."
"I hope it _is_ a racer," cried Joe, his eyes glistening. "Whew! How our
crowd, pulling together in team work, could make a boat everlastingly
sprint over the waves!"
The car in which the two boys sat was the last of the train. It had an
observation platform at the rear. In this observation compartment the
motor boat boys had spent much time while the train was rolling along
through the highly picturesque scenery of the Rocky Mountains. This
morning, however, going swiftly past sun-lit sections of California,
over a nearly level road, both young travelers were content to remain in
their seats by the window.
In the car were a dozen other passengers. Only one other besides the
motor boat boys was especially young. She was a girl of about eighteen,
blond, rather plump and very pretty. She appeared to be traveling alone,
having boarded the train at Kansas City. Tom and Joe had been able to
offer her a few travelers' courtesies, which had been graciously
accepted. Neither young man, however, knew the girl's name. Both motor
boat boys were too well bred to attempt to force an acquaintance.
Just now, as Tom happened to lean over his seat and glance down the
aisle, he saw that this young lady was in the observation compartment.
She appeared to be alone there. Something in the expression on her face
made her seem highly uneasy about something.
"I hope she isn't in any trouble," murmured Halstead, to himself, "and
that she isn't going to find anything unpleasant at the end of her
journey."
The next time he glanced down the aisle Halstead again caught a glimpse
of her face.
"By Jove, I believe she's been crying, or else is about to begin,"
muttered the young captain. "I wonder if it's real trouble, or just
something that she's afraid of."
Then Tom made haste to look away, lest the young lady should see that he
had been studying her and take offense.
"Look at the roses," commented Joe, glancing out of the window at a
pretty little California village through which the train was passing at
somewhat lessened speed. "Great Scott, there are violets growing in the
garden we've just passed. February! Think of the deep feet of snow on
either bank of the Kennebec just now!"
"It's the land of roses and other posies, all right," agreed Halstead,
himself looking out with a good deal of interest at the bright scene
under the soft haze of the California winter day.
"Say, these are real days! This beats Florida!" exclaimed Joe,
enthusiastically.
"When it doesn't rain," remarked the practical Halstead. "You know, this
is the rainy season in California."
"I don't care," contended Joe. "Even on a rainy day it must be beautiful
in this fine old state."
"And on a foggy one, also," laughed Tom. "You know, at this time of the
year, there are likely to be some great old fogs around San Francisco
Bay. I've heard that it takes a clever pilot to guess correctly whether
he's landing at San Francisco or Oakland."
"Humph!" grunted Joe.
Dawson turned, looking out of the window for some time without speaking.
"We're getting near some big town," he remarked, at last. Then, after
glancing at his watch: "It must be Oakland."
"Yes," nodded Tom. "I guess we'll soon be making our stop at the
Sixteenth Street station."
"Anything special about that station?"
"It's the last stop before we run out onto the mole at Oakland."
The train had now begun to run, at greatly lessened speed, through one
of the streets of the city. Joe found less to interest him. He glanced
upward at the rack, toward his traveling bag and overcoat.
"That overcoat seems like an insult to the climate," he remarked.
"Don't throw it away," advised Tom Halstead, "until you see whether some
of the 'Frisco nights are chilly. I've sort of an idea they will be."
"I wonder whether we're going to have much time ashore, or whether it
will be all spent on the water?" suggested Joe. But Tom, of course,
didn't know the answer.
"Sixteenth Street next stop!" called the porter through the car.
"Might as well stretch our legs," hinted Tom, rising. Joe also left his
seat.
As several of the passengers in the car were heading toward the front
end, the motor boat boys started for the observation compartment at the
rear end.
The young lady was still standing there. It looked as though she
intended to step down outside as soon as the train should come to a
stop. Not wishing to intrude, Tom Halstead halted, a few feet away, Joe
doing the same.
Hardly had the train stopped when a porter opened the door of the
observation compartment. The young lady quickly descended, the boys
following. The young lady remained close to the steps, glancing about
her. Lifting their hats, Tom and Joe stepped past her, mingling in the
throng at the station. There wasn't much here to see, but it was a
relief to be quit of the train for a minute or two.
"There's the engine bell ringing," nudged Joe, at last. "We may as well
hustle back."
As the two motor boat boys turned once more, Tom saw the young woman
standing beside the rear steps, one hand holding to the brass rail. She
appeared rather frightened. Before her, talking rapidly, was a man of
perhaps thirty years of age and some five feet nine inches in height.
On his smooth-shaven, dark face rested an ugly, black look. Something
that the man said just as Tom glanced that way caused the girl to wince
and grow paler.
"Why, that fellow has been on the train, though not in our car, for the
last two days," occurred to Halstead, swiftly. "And now I remember I saw
the young lady talking to him back at Battle Mountain. Jove! but she
seems afraid of him. There, she's trying to leave him, and he has caught
at her sleeve to hold her. Confound the ugly look in his eyes! I wish
she were _my_ sister for five minutes!"
Almost unconsciously, in his indignation, Captain Tom increased his
pace. Joe, looking in another direction, did not at once perceive this,
and so fell a bit behind.
"I'm not going to listen to you any longer," cried the young woman, in a
voice that sounded tearful, though she was resolutely keeping the tears
back out of her eyes. "You are talking like a coward!"
"Pardon me," said Captain Tom, rather stiffly, brushing past the young
man. The girl edged to give the motor boat boy room on the steps, and,
as he passed her, started to follow him up into the car.
"You're not going to leave me in that fashion," snapped the dark young
man, angrily. "See here----"
Again he caught at the girl's sleeve, after leaping up onto the lowest
step.
"Let me go," commanded the girl, indignantly.
"Not until----"
She wrenched herself free, then bounded after Halstead.
"Don't let him come into the car," begged the girl.
"Out of my way, young fellow," ordered the dark man, gaining the second
step up.
"Is this man annoying you?" asked Tom, in a friendly tone of the girl,
though he turned a cool, hostile stare upon the young man.
"Yes, he is," the young woman answered.
"Get out of the way, boy," commanded the man, reaching out a hand.
Tom Halstead's right hand closed instantly. His fist shot out, landing
on the fellow's neck. That persecutor fell back, missed his footing, and
went sprawling to the station platform. The girl had started to dart
into the car, but now she turned, watching with fearful eyes.
"Oh, don't let him hurt you!" she cried to Tom.
"Thank you," responded the young captain, dryly; "I don't believe he
will."
The train was beginning to move as the man fell sprawling on the
platform. Joe, who had seen the blow struck, darted in, dragging the
fellow swiftly to his feet.
"You'll have to hustle, mister, if you're going to get your car
forward," Joe advised him.
"This car is the one I----" began the man.
But Joe coolly swung in ahead of him, elbowing the fellow out of the
way. The next moment the porter, grinning, reached over with the key and
locked the door of the car, which Dawson had closed.
Looking the picture of rage, the man darted swiftly down the platform.
The train was now moving too rapidly, however, for the stranger to get
aboard, and the last car rolled by him as he stood, baffled, on the
platform.
"I--I don't know how to thank you both," faltered the girl.
"I assure you it didn't even put us to any inconvenience," smiled
Captain Tom.
"But--oh! I hope you won't meet him in San Francisco," cried the girl,
in sudden alarm. "He's dangerous, ugly, vengeful!"
"We've met such men before," laughed Captain Tom, quietly. "And
yet----well, we're here."
"But you don't know that man!" shuddered the girl.
"That we don't is something to brag about, I reckon," smiled Joe.
"If you ever do come face to face with him, or catch him, anywhere,
watching you, beware of him!" begged the young lady, earnestly. "He
never forgives anything--that wretch!"
"Are you uneasy over the remainder of your journey?" asked Tom,
politely. "Will you feel safer for escort?"
"Oh, I shall be all right, now," replied the girl, with a grateful
smile, though her cheeks were still pallid. "He is no longer on the
train."
"Command us, if you will," begged Captain Tom Halstead, gallantly. He
and Joe Dawson lifted their hats courteously, then passed on to their
own section.
"One of the little dramas of life that are being enacted all around us,"
muttered Halstead.
"I wouldn't have minded seeing that one through," returned Joe.
Neither boy, at that moment, suspected that they would yet "see it
through."