THE SCOUT OF THE KENNEBEC
AT nine o'clock on a bright sunshiny morning in August the usual group
were gathered on the dock at Squirrel Island. Some were watching the
arrival and departure of the different steamers, not forgetting the
little _Nellie G._, plying between that summer resort and Boothbay
Harbor, some three miles distant, with calls at other islands as the
passengers wished. Sailboats were getting ready to take parties out, some
to fish, while others sought only the pleasure of the cruise itself.
Small launches came up to the low-lying float for men and women to get on
board, while others were rowed out in small boats to the anchored craft.
By and by the attention of most of the spectators was fixed upon the
beautiful _Deerfoot_, which, putting out from the lower end of Southport
Island opposite, was heading toward Squirrel. The picture had become
familiar to all and they admired the grace and symmetry of the launch
which had won the reputation of being the swiftest of its kind in those
waters. It was known that she was owned by Alvin Landon, the son of a
millionaire who had built a handsome bungalow on Southport, where he was
expected to spend his vacation days, though, as we know, he passed
precious few of them there. Alvin was holding the wheel of his boat,
while directly behind him sat his chum, Chester Haynes, calmly watching
their approach to the floating dock.
The third member of the crew was our old friend Mike Murphy, whose
official rank was first mate. Instead of sitting among his companions,
the Irish lad had gone to the stern, where he sat with his legs curled up
under him tailor fashion. He could not get much farther in that direction
without slipping overboard. The figure of Mike was so striking that he
drew more attention than did his comrades or the boat itself. His
yachting cap was cocked at a saucy angle, revealing his fiery red hair,
while underneath it was his broad, crimson face, sprinkled with freckles,
and his vast grin revealed his big white teeth. It will be remembered
that the remainder of his costume was his ordinary civilian attire,
though Captain Alvin Landon had promised him a fine suit for the
following season. The time was too short to secure one for the present
occasion.
Mike's good-natured grin awoke more than one responsive smile among the
crowd on the dock. The universal opinion was that the youth from the
Emerald Isle was so homely of countenance that he couldn't be any
homelier, but at the same time none could be more popular. He knew that
the eyes of nearly every one were fixed upon him and he in turn scanned
the different faces, all of which were strange to him.
Alvin Landon slowed down as he approached and guided his boat among the
others with the skill of a professional chauffeur weaving in and out of a
procession of carriages. He gave his whole attention to this task,
Chester watching the performance with the admiration he had felt many
times before. But it was the people who interested Mike. Before the boat
rounded to, Stockham Calvert, the detective, accompanied by Lawyer
Westerfield, of New York, walked down the inclined steps to the float.
Westerfield was a gentleman of culture, an authority on many questions
and one of the greatest baseball fans in the country. Having secured a
liberal money contribution from Calvert the night before at the Inn, he
invited him to stay and witness the great struggle between the Boothbay
nine and the Squirrel Islanders. Westerfield was to act as umpire, his
impartiality and quickness of perception having won the confidence of all
parties; but of course Calvert had to decline under the pressure of a
previous engagement.
"It does a fellow good to look at that broth of a boy squatting on the
stern," remarked Westerfield, while the _Deerfoot_ was still a short
distance away.
"His name is Mike and he is a great favorite with every one. As yet I
have not met him, but he has all the wit and humor of his people. Suppose
you test him."
Nothing loath, Westerfield, who was a bit of a wag himself, called so
that all heard him:
"You don't need to show a red signal light, my friend; you ought to wait
until night."
Cocking his head a little more to one side, and with a slight extent of
increase in the width of his grin--admitting that to be possible--Mike
called back:
"Thin why have ye the _graan_ light standing there on the wharf?"
Westerfield joined in the general laugh, but came back:
"That face of yours will keep off all danger by daylight."
"And it's yer own phiz that will sarve the same purpose at night."
The laughter was louder than ever, and the pleased Calvert said to the
lawyer:
"Better let him alone; he will down you every time."
But Westerfield could not refuse to make another venture. Stepping back
as if in alarm from the launch, which was now within arm's reach, he
feigned to be scared.
"Please don't bite me with those dreadful teeth."
Mike, who was now close to the wharf, leaped lightly upon it.
"Have no fear; the sight of yersilf has made a Joo of me."
Then as if afraid that the listeners would not catch the force of his
words, he added:
"A Joo, as ye may know, doesn't ate pork."
Detective Calvert slapped the lawyer on the shoulder.
"Try him again."
"No; I have had enough." Then raising his hat and bowing in salutation,
Westerfield offered his hand to the lad, who shook it warmly.
"You're too much for me, Mike. I'm proud to take off my hat to you."
"And it's me dooty to be equally respictful, as me dad said whin the bull
pitched him over the fence and stood scraping one hoof and bowing from
t'other side."
While still in the boat, Alvin and Chester had returned the salutation of
Calvert. The Captain remained seated at the wheel, but the second mate
stepped out on the float and a general introduction followed. The
detective and he went aboard and sat down on one of the seats. Mike kept
them company, and throwing in the clutch, Alvin guided the launch into
the spacious waters outside, all three waving a salute to Westerfield,
who stood on the float and watched them for some minutes.
Detective Calvert had the good sense fully to admit Mike Murphy to his
confidence, though he had hoped at first he would not be a member of the
party. Alvin Landon gave the man to understand that he was not hiring out
his boat, but was conferring a favor upon the officer, who had the choice
of rejecting or accepting it on the terms offered. While Calvert could
not doubt the loyalty of the young Hibernian, he distrusted his
impulsiveness. But as I have said, having decided upon his line of
conduct, he did not allow himself to show the slightest degree of
distrust.
Mike on his part was tactful enough to act as listener while the man made
clear his plans. He did not ask a question or speak until addressed. The
launch moved so quietly that Alvin, with his hands upon the wheel and
scanning the water in front, heard all that was said by the others, and
when he thought it fitting took part in the conversation.
Instead of returning to Southport, the Deerfoot circled Cape Newagen,
which you know is the southern extremity of that island, and entering the
broad bay, headed up the Sheepscot River, over the same course it had
followed before.
"Mike was not with you," said Detective Calvert, "when you traced the
other launch into that little inlet at the lower end of Barter Island.
That boat stayed there overnight and may still be there, but probably is
not."
"Suppose it isn't there?" said Chester.
"We must find out where she is. That is the chief reason for my presuming
upon the kindness of the Captain to lend me the help of his launch. In
other words, it is my wish that the _Deerfoot_ shall serve as the Scout
of the Kennebec."
"A romantic title," remarked Alvin, over his shoulder, "though we are not
cruising on the Kennebec, but up the Sheepscot."
"No doubt we shall have to visit the larger river. And then, you know,"
added Calvert, with a smile, "the name I suggest sounds better than the
other."
The launch required no special attention just then, and, with one hand on
the steering wheel, Captain Alvin looked around:
"Mike, what do you think of it?"
"Arrah, now, what's the difference what ye call the boat? At home, I was
sometimes referred to as the Queen of the May, and again as the big toad
that St. Patrick forgot to drive out of Ireland, but all agraad that I
was as swate under one title as the ither."
"Suppose the _Water Witch_ happens to be where Chester and I saw her at
night?" asked Alvin of their director.
"We shall have to decide our course of action by what develops."
Neither of the youths was fully satisfied with this reply. They could not
believe that a professional detective would come this far upon so
peculiar an enterprise without having a pretty clear line laid out to
follow. It may have been as he said, however, and he was not questioned
further.
The day could not have been finer. The threatening skies of a short time
before had cleared and the sun was not obscured by a single cloud. Though
warm, the motion of the launch made the situation of all pleasant. Since
there was no call for haste, Calvert suggested to the Captain that he
should not strain the engine, and Alvin was quite willing to spare it.
The time might soon come when it would be necessary to call upon the boat
to do her best, and he meant she should be ready to respond.
Past the Cat Ledges, Jo and Cedarbrush Islands moved the _Deerfoot_ like
a swan skimming over the placid waters. Then came Hendrick Light, Dog
Fish Head, Green Islands and Boston Island. Powderhorn was passed, and
then they glided by Isle of Springs, which brought them in sight of
Sawyer. A little beyond was the inlet where they had seen the _Water
Witch_ reposing in the darkness of night.