The Motor Boat Club at Nantucket: or, The Mystery of the Dunstan Heir

Then the buggy drew up alongside the backporch. Halstead had plenty of chance to studythis farmer as he greeted the young driver:

“Hullo, Jed Prentiss. After them eggs?”

“Yes; and nearly forgot ’em.”

“I reckoned you’d be along about now. Well,I’ll get ’em.”

Farmer Sanderson appeared to be about fiftyyears of age. He would have been rather tallif so much of his lanky height had not beenturned over in a decided stoop of the shoulders.He had a rough, weather-beaten skin that seemedto match his rough jean overalls and flannelshirt. The most noticeable thing about this manwas the keenness of his eyes. As the farmercame out again to put the basket of eggs in theback of the buggy Tom Halstead asked suddenly:

“Do you know a man who looks like aSpaniard and wears brown striped trousers and ablack coat?”

Farmer Sanderson, so the young captainthought, gave a slight start. Then he unconcernedlyplaced the basket in the buggy beforehe answered:

“Can’t say as I know such a party. But I’veseen a fellow that answered that description.”

“When, if I may ask, and where?”

“Why, late this afternoon I saw such a partyhanging around my pier. I s’posed he wasfishing, but I didn’t go down to ask any questions.”

Tom put a few more queries, though withoutbetraying too deep an interest. Farmer Sandersonanswered with an appearance of utterfrankness, but Tom learned nothing from thereplies.

“I wonder,” ventured Jed Prentiss, afterthey had driven some distance along the road,“whether you think your Spanish-looking partyhad anything to do with Ted Dunstan’s beingmissing?”

Tom laughed good-naturedly, but made noreply, thinking that the easiest way of turningoff the question.

“Say,” broke in Jed again after a while, “Iwish you could get me a job aboard the ‘Meteor.’”

“What kind of a job?” inquired the youngcaptain.

“Why, I’m generally handy aboard a boat.Been out on fishing craft a good deal. The jobI struck Mr. Dunstan for, some weeks ago, wasthat of steward. You see, I’m a pretty fair seacook, too. But Mr. Dunstan said he didn’t needa steward or a cook aboard. I wonder if he’dchange his mind.”

“He might,” replied Tom.

“Do you think you’d like to have meaboard?”

“From what I’ve seen of you, Jed, I think Iwould,” replied Tom Halstead heartily. “Atany rate, I’ll speak to Mr. Dunstan about you.”

“Will you, though?” cried Jed delightedly.“Say, I’d give my head – no, but the hair offthe top of my head – to go cruising about on the‘Meteor.’ It must be a king’s life.”

“It is,” Tom assented.

Then, for some time, the two boys were silentBut at last Tom Halstead, after some intensethinking, burst out almost explosively:

“Machinery? Great Scott!”

“Er – eh?” queried Jed, looking at him in surprise.

“Oh, nothing,” returned the young skipperevasively. “Just forget that you heard me sayanything, will you?”

“Sure,” nodded Jed obligingly. Soon after, they drove into the quaint little old seaport, summer-resort town, Nantucket. Tom’s glancealighted on a bicycle shop, still open. ThankingJed heartily for the lift, Halstead hurriedinto the shop. He succeeded in renting a bicycle, agreeing that it should be returned in themorning. Then, after some inquiries as to theroad, Tom set out, pedaling swiftly.

He got off the road once, but in the end foundthe Dunstan place all right. At the gatewayto the grounds Halstead dismounted. For afew moments he stood looking up at the house, only a part of which was lighted.

“Machinery?” repeated the young skipper tohimself, for the twentieth time. “Machinery?Eh? Oh, but we want to know all about that, and, what’s more, we’ve got to know. Machinery!It pieces in with some other facts thathave come out to-day.”

Then mindful of the fact that the news he borewas, or should be, of great importance to thedistracted master of the house beyond, TomHalstead, instead of remounting, pushed hiswheel along as he walked briskly up the driveway.

“Machinery!” he muttered once more underhis breath. He could not rid himself of themagic of that word.

Yet it was a huge pity that the young motorboat captain could not have possessed sharpenough vision to see into the heart of a denseclump of lilac bushes that bordered the driveway.Had his vision been that keen he wouldhave seen his very Spaniard crouched low inthe clump.

That worthy saw the boy and watched himwith baleful, gleaming eyes. It was a look thatboded no good to the young skipper.

“You are too wise, young gringo, and, besides, you have struck me down,” growledAlvarez. “But we shall take care of you. Youshall do no more harm!”

CHAPTER VII – “THE QUICKEST WAY OF WALKING THE PLANK”

It was Tuesday when Ted Dunstan disappeared.Now, Saturday had arrived.

On Monday the heir must appear, withhis father, in the probate court, or the greatfortune would be forever lost to the young man.

The days from Tuesday to Saturday hadbeen full of suspense and torment to thosemost interested. Horace Dunstan had lost hiseasy-going air. He started at the slightestsound; he hurried up whenever he heard otherstalking. Every new sound gave him hope thathis son was about to appear in the flesh.

Far from slow had the search been. Mr.Dunstan’s messages had brought a score of detectivesto the scene. Some of these, aided bythe local constables, had scoured the island ofNantucket unavailingly. The greater numberof the detectives, however, had operated onthe mainland, their operations extending evento Boston and New York.

Yet not a sign of the missing boy had beenfound. There was not a single clew to his fate, beyond the little that Tom Halstead and JoeDawson had been able to tell concerning Alvarezand the florid-faced American.

Halstead’s notion about Farmer Sanderson’s“machinery” had crystallized into the beliefthat the cases of “machinery” received by thefarmer were in reality cases of arms and ammunition, intended to be shipped to aid some newrevolution in Honduras. Alvarez and theflorid-faced man, the latter undoubtedly a seafaringman, might justly be suspected of beingemployed in some scheme to smuggle militarysupplies to Honduras. Tom had read in thenewspapers, more than once, that filibusterssending military supplies to Central Americanrepublics label their cases of goods “machinery”in order to get past vigilant eyes unsuspected.Gregory Dunstan was known to beinterested in revolutionary movements, andFarmer Sanderson might be suspected of helpingAlvarez and other filibusters by havingarms and ammunition shipped to him as machinery, and afterwards slipped out of the countryfrom the end of the farmer’s pier on somedark, stormy night. Moreover, Gregory Dunstanand his friends were the sole ones whocould be interested in having Master Ted vanishat such a time. All parts of the theoryfitted nicely together, Tom thought, and HoraceDunstan agreed with him.

Yet anything relating to attempts by filibustersto ship arms secretly to another countryshould be brought to the notice of the UnitedStates Government. So Mr. Dunstan wrotefully to the authorities at Washington, who,so far, had not taken the pains to reply to hiscommunication.

During these days the “Meteor” had beenalmost constantly in service. Tom and Joefelt nearly used up, so incessant had been theirwork. Jed Prentiss was now aboard, for, withdetectives arriving and departing at all hours, there was frequently need of serving a visitorwith a meal while the “Meteor” dashed overthe waves to or from Nantucket. Jed was enjoyinghimself despite his long hours and hardwork. He even found time to hang about Joeand learn much about the running of themotor.

By Saturday noon Horace Dunstan, whoseemed to have aged much, gave up the notionthat his detectives could aid him at Nantucket.The last three on the island were sent over toWood’s Hole on the “Meteor,” with instructionsto help the men at work on the case onthe mainland.

“Thank goodness, we’re through with ’em,”grunted Jed, leaving the galley and coming upthrough the engine room hatchway. “I hopewe’ll get a breathing spell to-morrow.”

“We’ve had a brisk four days of it,” noddedTom. “I wouldn’t mind that at all, if onlywe had gotten any nearer to finding Ted. Butall this work and nothing gained is enough towear a fellow out.”

It was a part of Tom’s nature that he feltkeenly all of his employer’s worries over themissing Ted, It worried Halstead, too, tothink of any boy hopelessly losing such a hugefortune as was at stake.

“If only we could find Alvarez, and get agood grip on him,” growled Halstead, as Joecame up on deck, “I’d feel almost warranted intorturing him until he told all he knew.”

Joe nodded gravely, then suddenly grinned.

“I can imagine anyone as big-hearted as youare, Tom, putting any human being to the torture.”

“I said I’d almost be willing to” insistedTom.