The Motor Boat Club at Nantucket: or, The Mystery of the Dunstan Heir
“Well, well,” continued the owner, as heglanced smilingly down into the engine room;“are you going to cast off now and take me overto Nantucket? It’s four days since I’ve seen myhome and that lucky little rascal, Ted.”
Tom didn’t know or inquire who Ted was orwhy that “rascal” was so very fortunate. Insteadhe replied:
“We were thinking of a little trial trip first, sir, just to see how the craft will behave underway.”
“Good enough,” nodded the owner. “ButI’m aboard, so why can’t I go with you?”
“Of course you can, sir.”
Tom ran ashore to cast off while Joe did somelast fussing over the motor. Having cast thestern-line aboard and coiled it, Tom now cameforward, throwing off the bowline, boardingwith it.
“Start her up at very slow speed ahead, Joe,”called down the young captain, taking his placeat the wheel and throwing it over a little.
With the first throbs of the propeller the“Meteor” began to glide away from the pier.Mr. Dunstan had taken his post at Halstead’sright. The water being deep enough, the youngcaptain moved out confidently.
“Just a little more speed, Joe,” Tom called, when the pier end was some two hundred yardsastern.
A little faster and still a little faster the propellershaft turned, until it settled down to goodwork. The “Meteor” was moving at abouttwelve miles an hour.
“Fine!” cried Mr. Dunstan joyously.“We’re all right now.”
“We’re not yet quite out of the – well, I won’tsay woods, but sea woods,” smiled Tom quietly.
“I’m forgetting my duty,” cried Mr.Dunstan in sudden self-reproach. “I mustact a bit as pilot until you know these watersbetter.”
“Why, I studied the chart, sir, nearly all theway from Portland,” replied Tom. “I thinkI am picking up the marks of the course allright.”
“You can’t see Nantucket from here, but canyou point straight to it?” inquired Mr. Dunstan.
“I’m heading straight along the usual coursenow,” Tom replied.
“Right! You are. I guess you know yourway from the chart, though you’ve never seenthese waters before. Keep on. I won’t interfereunless I see you going wrong.”
“Shall I head straight on for the island?”asked Halstead. “Or would you rather keepclose to the mainland until we see how theengine behaves?”
“Keep right on, captain, unless your judgmentforbids.”
Tom, therefore, after a brief talk with hischum through the open hatchway, held to hiscourse, to the south of which lay the big islandof Martha’s Vineyard, now well populated bysummer pleasure seekers.
Notch by notch Joe let out the speed, thoughhe was too careful to be in a hurry about that.He wanted to study his machine until he knewit as he did the alphabet. Every fresh spurtpleased the owner greatly.
“Your Club has some great fellows in it ifyou two are specimens,” said Mr. Dunstan delightedly.“Prescott knew what he was writingwhen he told me to stand by anything youwanted to do.”
By the time when they had the Vineyard fairlysouth of them and the craft was going at morethan a twenty-mile gait, Tom judged that heshould inform the owner of the happening of thenight before. He therefore called Joe up fromthe motor to take the wheel. Then Halstead toldMr. Dunstan what had taken place, exhibitingthe fragment of cloth secured by Bouncer andconnecting this, in theory, with the swarthy manthey had seen aboard the train.
Bouncer, looking up in his master’s face andwhining, seemed anxious to confirm Tom Halstead’snarration.
“Why, there’s something about all this thatwill make it well for us all to keep our eyesopen,” said Mr. Dunstan.
Tom, watching the owner’s face, felt that thatgentleman had first looked somewhat alarmed, then much more annoyed.
“There’s something that doesn’t please himand I shouldn’t think it would,” the young captainreflected. “Yet, whatever it is he doesn’tintend to tell me, just yet, at all events. I hopeit’s nothing in the way of big mischief thatthreatens.”
“Of course I’d suggest, sir,” Tom observedfinally, “that Dawson and myself sleep aboardnights.”
“You may as well,” nodded the owner, andagain Tom thought he saw a shadow of worrimentin the other’s eyes.
“Are you going to let Bouncer stay aboard, too, sir?” Tom asked.
“Ordinarily I think I’ll let the dog sleep atthe house nights,” replied Mr. Dunstan, immediately after looking as though he were tryingto dismiss some matter from his mind.
Joe, too, had been keen enough to scent thefact that, though Mr. Dunstan tried to appearwholly at his ease, yet something was giving thatgentleman a good deal of cause for thought.Mr. Dunstan even went aft, presently, seatinghimself in one of the armchairs and smokingtwo cigars in succession rather rapidly.
“We’ve put something into his mind thatdoesn’t lie there easily,” hinted Joe.
“But, of course, it’s none of our business unlesshe chooses to tell us,” replied Halstead.
A little later Joe Dawson went down into theengine room to get the best reasonable work outof the motor. Even at racing speed the “Meteor’s”bow wave was not a big one. Therewas almost an absence of spray dashing overthe helmsman. Tom did not need to put on oilskins,as he had often done on the “Sunbeam.”The “Meteor’s” bow lines were so beautiful andgraceful, so well adapted to an ideal racingcraft, that the bridge deck in ordinary weatherwas not a wet place.
As they neared cool, wind-swept Nantucket,Mr. Dunstan came forward once more, to pointout the direction of his own place. This lay onthe west side of the island. As they ran incloser the owner pointed out the mouth of a cove.
“We’ve come over in two hours,” announcedMr. Dunstan, consulting his watch as theyneared the cove.
“Now that we understand the boat and theengine,” answered Tom, “we ought to go overthe course in less than an hour and a half.”
“Fine!” pronounced the owner. “That’swhat the boat was built for. Do that and I canmake the trip to my Boston offices every weekday – if I decide that it’s best to do so.”
Tom noted a certain hesitancy about those lastfew words. Again he felt sure that some mysterythreatened the owner’s peace of mind.
Into the cove and up alongside the pier the“Meteor” was run. From here large and handsomegrounds and a huge white house, the latterwell back from the water, were visible.
“We’ll leave Bouncer on board for the present,”said Mr. Dunstan. “I’ll take you up tothe house so you can get used to the place. Byand by we’ll have lunch. And I want to showyou my boy, Ted.”
CHAPTER III – THE LUCKIEST BOY IN THE WORLD
Hardly had Mr. Dunstan’s new boatcrew followed him ashore when awhooping yell sounded from up theroad that led to the house. Then into sightdashed a boy mounted on a pony. On they cameat a full gallop, the boy reining up with a jerkwhen barely six feet from his father.
“Careful, Ted!” warned Mr. Dunstan laughingly.“Don’t ride me down. You’re notyet through with your use for a father, youknow.”
“I was trying to show you, dad, how Sheridanand I are learning our paces together,” repliedthe youngster. He was a rather slightly builtboy, with clustering yellow hair and gray eyes.He wore a khaki suit and a sombrero modeledafter the Army campaign hat. Even his saddlewas of the Army type, being a miniature McClellanin model.
Tom liked this lad after the first look. Therewas something whole-souled about this little fellowwith the laughing eyes. And, though hehad been reared in a home of wealth, there wasnothing in the least snobbish in the way hesuddenly turned to regard the Motor Boat Clubboys.
“Ted, Captain Halstead and his friend, Dawson,”said Mr. Dunstan. “You’ll be glad toknow that they’ve got the ‘Meteor’ in runningorder again.”
Ted was careful to dismount before he offeredhis hand, with graceful friendliness, toeach of the boys.
“You’ve made dad happy if you’ve got hisboat to running again,” laughed Master Ted.
“And you? Aren’t you fond of motor boating?”queried Tom.
“Oh, yes; after a fashion, I suppose,” repliedthe Dunstan hopeful deliberately. “Butthen, you see, I’m cut out for a soldier. I’m togo into the Army, you know, and anything to dowith salt water smacks a bit too much of theNavy.”
All of which remarkable declaration MasterTed made as though he imagined these new acquaintancesunderstood all about his futureplans.
“The Army is fond of the Navy, of course,”the lad added by way of explanation. “Yet, toa soldier, the Army is the whole thing.”
“Oh, I see,” smiled Captain Tom, though intruth he didn’t “see” in the least.
“Yes, Ted’s to be a soldier. He’s doomed – or destined – tothat career,” nodded Mr. Dunstangood-humoredly. “There’s a whole longstory to that, Halstead. Perhaps you and Dawsonshall hear the story later. But for nowwe’d better get up to the house.”
Master Ted evidently took this as a hint thatthe subject was to be pursued no further forthe present, for he merely said in a very graciousway:
“Of course, I shall see you again. So nowI’ll take myself off – with Sheridan.”
Resting his left hand through the bridle andgripping the pony’s mane, Master Ted used hisright hand to strike the pony a smart blow overthe rump. As the pony bounded forward thelad made a flying leap into the saddle. It wassuch a flying start as almost to startle Tom andJoe.
“He rides like a cowboy,” declared Tom admiringly, watching the mounted youngster outof sight.
“He has need to, I fancy,” replied Mr. Dunstangravely. “That is, since he’s going intothe Army, for Ted wouldn’t be satisfied with beinganything less than a cavalryman.”
As Mr. Dunstan’s last words or the tone inwhich they were uttered seemed to dismiss thesubject, Halstead and his chum knew that theywere not to be further enlightened for the present.They followed their employer up to thehouse.
He took them into a roomy, old-fashionedlooking library, with heavy furniture, and, excusinghimself, left them. He soon returned tosay:
“The family are now at luncheon, all exceptMaster Ted, so I have given instructions to haveluncheon served to us in here presently.”
In half an hour the meal was before Mr. Dunstanand the boys. It tasted rarely good aftertheir hasty snatches of food aboard the boat.When it was over Mr. Dunstan took a chair onthe porch, lighted a cigar and said:
“I’m going to take it easy for a while.Would you like to look about the grounds?”
Tom and his chum strolled about. They foundit a delightful country place, covering someforty acres. There was a large stable, a carriagehouse and a garage which contained abig touring car. There were greenhouses, apoultry place and a small power house thatsupplied electric light to the buildings andgrounds.
“It looks like the place of a man who hasenough money, but who doesn’t care about makinga big splurge,” commented Joe.
“It also looks like the place of an easy-goingman,” replied Halstead. “I wonder how a manlike Mr. Dunstan came to get the motor-boatcraze?”
“Oh, I imagine he likes to live out on thisbeautiful old island, and merely keeps the boatas a means of reaching business,” suggestedDawson.
After an hour or more they returned to thehouse to find Mr. Dunstan placidly asleep in thesame porch chair. So the boys helped themselvesto seats, kept quiet and waited. Theywere still in doubt as to whether their employerwanted to use the boat later in the day. Theirswas a long wait, but at last Mr. Dunstan awoke, glanced at his watch and looked at the boys.
“Becoming bored?” he smiled.
“Oh, no,” Tom assured him, “but I’ve hadhard work to keep from falling sound asleep.”
“Have you seen Master Ted lately?”
“Not since we first met him down by thepier.”
“That’s a youngster with quite a picturesquefuture ahead of him, I imagine,” continued Mr.Dunstan. “I call him the luckiest boy alive.Perhaps he is not quite that, but he is going tobe a very rich man if he follows a certaincareer.”
“It must be an Army career, then,” hintedHalstead.
“It is, just that. And I suppose I might aswell tell you the story, if it would interest youany. A lot of people know the story now, sothere’s no harm in repeating it.”
Their host paused to light a cigar before heresumed:
“Ours used to be a good deal of a militaryfamily. In fact, every generation supplied twoor three good soldiers. There were five Dunstans, all officers, serving in the War of theRevolution. There were four in the War of1812, two in the War with Mexico and two inthe Civil War. We gradually fell off a bit, yousee, in the numbers we supplied to the Army.The two who served in the Civil War wereuncles of mine. My father didn’t go – wasn’tphysically fit. There were three of us brothers,Gregory, Aaron and myself. Both were olderthan I. Aaron would have made a fine soldier, but he was always weakly. The fact that hecouldn’t wear the uniform almost broke hisheart. Yet Aaron had one fine talent. He knewhow to make money almost without trying. Infact, he died a very rich man.
“Greg, on the other hand, was what I expectyou would call the black sheep of the family. Hewent to Honduras years ago. He’s a planter, doing fairly well there, I suppose. He’s prettywild, just as he used to be. He’s always gettingmixed up in the many revolutions that they havedown in that little republic of Honduras. Oneof these days I’m afraid he’ll be shot by a fileof government soldiers for being mixed up insome new revolutionary plot.
“My brother Aaron never married. Greghas two daughters, but no sons. Ted is my onlyson and Aaron just worshiped the lad as thelast of the race. Aaron wanted Ted to becomea soldier and keep the family in the Army. Theyoungster was willing enough, but I didn’twholly fancy it. However, my brother Aarondied a little while ago and I found he had fixedthe matter so that Ted will have to be a soldier.”
“How could your brother do that?” askedTom.
“Why, you see, under the will, brother Gregis let off with one hundred thousand dollars andI get the same. But there’s a proviso in thewill that if, within ninety days from Aaron’sdeath, Ted appears in probate court with me orother guardian, and there both Ted and myselfpromise that he shall be reared for the UnitedStates Army, then half a million dollars is tobe paid over to myself or other guardian, intrust for the boy. The income from that halfmillion is to be used to rear and educate him.But Ted, as a part of his promise, must makeevery effort to get himself appointed a cadet atWest Point.”
“Some other boy might get the cadetshipaway from him,” suggested Joe Dawson.
“In case Ted simply can’t win a West Pointcadetship,” replied Mr. Dunstan, “then, at theage of twenty-one, his promise will oblige him toenlist in the Army as a private soldier and doall in his power to win an officer’s commissionfrom the ranks.”
“Even then, there’s a chance to fail,” hintedTom.
“If the lad fails absolutely to get a commissionin the Army,” responded Mr. Dunstan, “hewill lose a lot of money – that’s all. There isanother fund, amounting to two and a half milliondollars, that is to be kept at interest untilthe young man is thirty. By that time themoney, through compound interest, will bemuch more than doubled. On Ted’s thirtiethbirthday all that huge sum of money is to beturned over to him if he has won, somehow, acommission as an officer of the Army. If he hastried, but failed, then the money is to be devotedto various public purposes.
“But if Ted fails to go into probate court ontime, with myself or other guardian, and havethe promise made a matter of record, thenhe loses everything. In that case I get thesame hundred thousand dollars as otherwise, but Greg, instead of receiving only ahundred thousand is to get a cool milliondollars.”
“Isn’t your brother Gregory likely to contestsuch a will?” asked Tom thoughtfully.
“The will provides that, if he does contest, heshall lose even his hundred thousand dollars,”Mr. Dunstan replied. “I have had great lawyersgo all over the will, but they can’t find asingle flaw through which it can be broken. Yousee, the will is right in line with what lawyerscall ‘public policy.’ It’s altogether to the publicinterest to have the boys of our best old families,as of the best new ones, brought up with theidea that, they’re to give their lives to the serviceof their country. So the will is bound tostand against any contest, and if Greg or myselftried to break it we’d only cheat ourselvesout of goodly sums of money.”
“Then Master Ted, of course,” pursued Tom,“has been or is going before the probate courtto have the promise recorded.”
“To-day is Tuesday,” answered Mr. Dunstan.“The ninety days are up next Monday. On thatday there will be a short session of probate courtand Ted and I are going to be on hand.”
“Is this the first time probate court has beenin session since the will was read, sir?” askedHalstead.
“Oh, no,” replied their employer in his mosteasy-going tone. “But there was no hurry andI wanted to give the lawyers plenty of time toconsider the matter. Next Monday, beingwithin the required ninety days, will do as wellas any other time.”
“Well, of all the easy-going men!” gaspedTom inwardly. “To think, with such a big fortuneat stake, of dilly-dallying until the very lastday of all!”
“So, you see, Ted really is a very lucky boy,”finished Mr. Dunstan.
“I should say he is!” breathed Halstead, hisface flushing at the thought. He would havebeen happy over a West Point cadetship withoutany enormous reward.
“The luckiest boy I ever heard of!” ventedJoe, his nerves a-thrill over this story of one ofFortune’s greatest favorites. “No wonder yourson, sir, is so eager about being a soldier.”
“Is your brother Gregory in this countrynow?” asked Tom slowly.
“Not to the best of my knowledge,” almostdrawled their employer. “The last I heard ofhim he was still on his plantation in Honduras, probably hatching more revolutionary plots andgiving the government a good excuse for sendingits soldiers to shoot him one of these days.But I do know that, for a while, Greg had Americanlawyers hard at work trying to find someway to smash Aaron’s will. They gave it up, though, and so did Greg, after hearing from methat Master Ted was wild to follow a soldier’scareer.”
Both boys were silent for some time. Yet, ifthey did no talking, their thoughts very nearlyran riot. To them it seemed that Ted Dunstan’slot in life lay in all the bright places of gloryand fortune. How they would have relishedsuch a grand chance!
“By the way,” said Mr. Dunstan, risingslowly and stretching, “I haven’t seen theyoungster in hours. I think I’ll locate him andbring him around here.”
He went into the house. Within the next tenminutes two of the men servants left the house, running hurriedly out of sight in different directions.At the end of twenty minutes Mr. Dunstanhimself appeared, looking actually worried.
“We can’t seem to find Ted anywhere,” heconfessed uneasily. “The young man hasn’tbeen seen since he stabled his pony at half-pasttwelve. I thought he would lunch with Mrs.Dunstan; she thought he was lunching with us.We’ve sent all about the grounds, we’ve telephonedthe neighbors and the town, and all withoutavail. The pony is in the stable and theyoung man seems to have disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” repeated Tom Halstead, springing to his feet, electrified by the news.“Don’t you think it more likely, sir, he’s beenhelped to disappear?”
“You think he may have been spiritedaway?” demanded Mr. Dunstan. “But why?”
“Haven’t you yourself told us, sir, that itwould be worth some one’s trouble, to the extentof nine hundred thousand dollars, to havethe boy vanish?” asked Tom breathlessly.
“You suspect my brother?”
“Pardon me, sir, for forgetting that GregoryDunstan is your brother,” Tom went on whitening.“Yet that talk about disabling the ‘Meteor’!The man who looked like a Spaniard – butthe people of Honduras are of Spanish descent.Why should anyone want to disable the‘Meteor,’ unless to stop a pursuit by water?You yourself have told us that your brother hasa weakness for mixing up in revolutions downin Honduras.”
All this Halstead had shot out jerkily, thinkingeven faster than he spoke.
“But at this very moment Greg is down inHonduras,” objected Mr. Dunstan.
“Even if he is, wouldn’t friends of his, whomay want funds for a new revolution, see howeasy it was to get the money through gettingTed out of the way?” asked Tom quickly.“Grant that your brother is wholly innocent ofany plot about your son. Wouldn’t supposedfriends of his perhaps be willing to spirit theboy away, knowing that if the big money prizewent to your brother, Gregory Dunstan couldafterwards be persuaded to throw his fortuneinto some new revolutionary cause?”
“Yes, yes, it’s all possible – horribly possible,”admitted Mr. Dunstan, covering his facewith his hands. “And Greg, who is a citizenof Honduras now, has even had aspirations inthe way of becoming president of Honduras.Halstead, I will admit that I had even thoughtof the possibility of some just such attempt asthis, and yet in broad daylight I dismissed it allas idle dreaming. And now Ted’s gone – heavenonly knows what has become of him!”
“Of course,” put in Joe coolly, “it may turnout that the youngster just went fishing. Hemay walk in any moment for his supper.”
“But he went without his lunch,” retortedMr. Dunstan. “That was wholly unlike Ted.”
“The ‘Meteor’ may be disabled now,” brokein Tom. “If she isn’t, won’t it be more thanwell worth while to get the craft out and goscouting through these waters?”
“Yes, yes!” cried Mr. Dunstan. “Come on, boys.”
As they raced down through the groundsthey espied the coachman returning.
“Come along, Michael!” shouted Mr. Dunstan.Then, to the boys he explained:
“If the ‘Meteor’ is fit to go out, Michael cango along with you. If there’s any fighting he’sa heavy-fisted, bull-necked fellow who’d face aregiment of thieves.”
Joe had the key of the engine-room hatchwayout in his hand before they reached the pier.In a jiffy he had the sliding door unlocked, almostleaping down into the engine room. Withswift hands he set the engine in motion.
“All right here,” he reported, while Bouncer, just liberated, frisked about his master’s legsand then whined.
“Keep the bulldog aboard, too, Michael,”called Mr. Dunstan, as he stepped ashore.“Start at once, Captain Halstead. Go as farand wide as you can and hail any craft youthink may have news. Michael, I rely upon youto use your fists if there’s need.”
“If there’s the chanst!” grinned the Irishmanreadily.
“I’ll run back to the house and get in touchwith the police,” Mr. Dunstan shouted backover his shoulder.
Tom sprinted aft along the pier, throwing thestern-line aboard. He leaped aboard forwardwith the bowline, not stopping then to coil it.
Not even calling to Joe, whose head wasbarely six feet away, young Captain Tom Halsteadgave the bridge bellpull a single jerk. Asthe response sounded in the engine room alertJoe gave the engine slow speed ahead. Tomthrew the wheel over and the fine boat glidedout from her berth.
Two bells! Full speed ahead! The “Meteor”forged forward, gaining headway everymoment. The hunt for missing Ted Dunstanwas started in earnest.
CHAPTER IV – SIGHTING THE “PIRATE”
“How much speed do you want for thistrip?” asked Joe, poking his headup through the hatchway as soon asthe “Meteor” was running smoothly northward.
“On a hunt like this I think Mr. Dunstan willwant us to burn gasoline,” Tom answered.“Give her about all the speed she can make.”
“That means twenty-five miles – or more?”insisted Dawson.
“Twenty-five will be close enough to goingfast,” Tom replied.
Almost immediately the fast motor boat beganto leap through the water. Though the boatminded her helm sensitively, Halstead restedboth hands upon the wheel, watching intentlyahead.
“Hey! What you trying to do? Swamp us, with your wake?” demanded an irate fishermanin a dory, as they raced past him.
But they had gone only close enough to enablebig Michael, standing on the deck house, topeer at the inside of the dory.
Several other small craft without cabins theyran close to in the same manner, making surethat no stolen boy was on any of them.
Up near Great Point they encountered a cabinsloop. Michael, however, recognized a clergymanfriend as one of this party, so Halsteadpassed them with only a friendly toot from theauto whistle.
Then down around the east coast of Nantucketthey sped, further out to sea now, since inshoreno craft were observed. They kept on untilthe south coast, too, had been passed, but therewas no sign to gladden their eyes nor arousetheir suspicions. Next along the south shore ofthe island the “Meteor” raced, and on out toMuskeget Island. From this point they hadonly to round the latter island and steer straightback for the inlet where Mr. Dunstan’s pier lay.