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

“Then Joe and I may stretch our legs onshore.”

“That will be all right, as long as Jed Prentissand Bouncer remain aboard to watch theboat.”

Joe started first that night, hurrying awaybefore Gambon had left his cottage. Tom remainedbehind, in hiding near the gate, to followthe Frenchman. Gambon came out, half anhour after dark, armed with the same heavywalking stick. As before, he turned straight inthe direction of Nantucket the young skipperfollowing just out of sight.

To-night there seemed to be more need ofcaution. Several times the Frenchman turnedor halted and listened, but each time the youngskipper was not to be seen.

Just before Gambon reached the grove wherethe rock lay Joe stepped up beside his chum.

“There’s a message there and I read it,”whispered Joe.

“What was it?” Tom eagerly demanded.

“Simply this: ‘Oceanside, 332.’”

“What do you make of that, Joe?”

“Telephone number is my guess.”

“It must be. You put the message back underthe rock?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Then, see here, Joe. I’m going to slip intothe woods and hurry on ahead to Nantucket. I’llfind out where ‘Oceanside, 332,’ is. You followGambon, and see if he goes to a telephone. Ifhe does, try to hear what’s said. Whatever youdo to-night, though, Joe, don’t let Gambon getout of your sight. Remember, slim as it is, it’sour last chance!”

“And you?”

“All I can say,” Tom replied, “is that you’llsee me again, old fellow, whenever and whereverwe happen to meet. Good-by, now, and besharp to-night.”

“Good luck to you, Tom.”

Moving through the woods, Halstead wasquickly in Nantucket. In a drug store he pickedup the telephone directory, scanning the pagesuntil he located “Oceanside, 332.” He couldhave jumped from sheer excitement. It was thetelephone number of the farmer, Sanderson, onthe east side of the island. Sanderson was theman who had been receiving so many cases of“machinery” from the mainland.

Slipping out of the drug store, Halstead wentswiftly down one of the side streets. He did notwant to run any risk of encountering Gambon.

“So the scene shifts back to Sanderson’s?”thought the young skipper excitedly. “Then ifDon Emilio’s crowd isn’t there, there must atleast be some one there who has authority totelephone orders to Gambon. Whatever thoseorders are Joe will have to find out – if he can.”

Down at the further end of this side street,as Captain Tom knew, was a shop where a bicyclecould be rented. Within two minutes theboy felt the saddle of a wheel under him. Hepedaled fast, yet he did not take the principalhighway that led past Sanderson’s.

“There’s too much chance of being seen bythe wrong folks if I go openly on the mainroad,” Tom told himself.

From Jed he had learned the lay of the roadsin that part of the island. Well trained to sailingby chart, Halstead found that he could pickhis roads and paths, even at night, from themental map of the east side of the island thatJed had supplied him.

When he dismounted it was on a side road, ata distance of a quarter of a mile from Sanderson’shouse. Most of the land between was coveredby young woods.

First of all, Halstead looked about for athicket that offered a secure hiding place forhis rented wheel. When that had been stowedaway the young skipper secured his bearingsonce more.

“And now to see what’s going on at Sanderson’sto-night, and who’s there,” Halstead toldhimself, as he plunged through the woods inwhat he knew must be the right direction.

After a few minutes he came out in the open.Ahead the well-remembered old farmhouseshowed dimly in the darkness.

The night was so dark that Tom could easilyapproach the house, though he kept a keen lookoutagainst running unexpectedly into anyone.Cautiously he surveyed the house from all sides.The two lower floors were in darkness and hada closed-up appearance. Through one of therear attic windows, however, a bright lightshone and the sash was raised.

“Sanderson, Don Emilio and some of theothers may be meeting up there,” thought Halsteadwith a sudden thrill of wonder. “Oh, ifI can only find a way to get up there and listen!”

As he stood, well in the shadow of a carriageshed, staring up at that lighted window, a humof low voices came to his ears.

“Gracious!” muttered the young skipper, stepping further back into the shadow.“There’s crowd enough down here on theground.”

On came a group of men, trudging like laborersgoing to their toil. Dark as the night was, not one of them carried a lantern. From theircourse it looked as though they came up fromthe shore. In his eagerness Tom bent forwardmore, that he might scan them. His eyes werekeen-sighted in the dark.

“There’s Don Emilio,” Halstead told himself.“I’d know him by his size and his walk.And there’s Jonas French. There’s the littlebrown chap, I think, who helped to capture Joethe other night. And that stooping figure at therear is Sanderson. But there are four others.”

“I am not used to this hard work, but I willdo all I can,” Tom heard Don Emilio complain,as the group stopped before one of the largeroutbuildings, while Sanderson drew out a keyand unfastened a padlock.

“Whew!” Tom Halstead thrilled more intenselythan before when he saw the men comeout of the other building, two and two, each paircarrying a long box. “This must be one of theirbig nights. Yet what on earth is up?”

He was destined, soon, to be able to make agood guess.

CHAPTER XIX – THE SIGHT BEHIND THE ATTIC LIGHT

“All right?” asked Farmer Sandersonquestioningly.

“All right,” agreed Don Emilio.Click went the padlock.

“All wrong, I’ll bet a hundred cookies,”mocked Tom Halstead under his breath.

“Come along, now,” directed Don Emilio.He seemed to be the leader in to-night’s work.

“I don’t believe I’m included in that invitationto ‘come along,’ but I’m going to cheek myway along,” grinned the young skipper.

He had no need to keep them exactly in sight, these industrious workers in the dark. Ladenas they were, it was enough to keep withinsound of the rather regular shuffle of their feet.

As Tom had surmised, the four pairs of men, keeping together, proceeded toward the shore.Once, on the way down the slope, they halted togive the weaker ones an opportunity to rest theirmuscles. Then, picking up their heavy casesonce more, the men went on down the slopetoward the pier.

“That is the stuff that was billed under ‘machinery’labels!” muttered the young skipperto himself. “I’ll wager those boxes contain gunsand cartridges to start a new revolution withdown in stormy Honduras. But is their filibusteringcraft here? Are they getting ready tosail before daylight? If that’s the game, then Imust get awfully busy.”

As Tom, taking advantage of the unevenground and dodging behind bushes and trees, followed unobserved and came within sight ofthe pier he made out with certainty that no craftwas tied there.

“That doesn’t prove a lot, though,” he reflected, watching the procession of toilers frombehind a bush. “If they have a tug or someother steam vessel it could slip in here two hoursbefore daylight and be away again in anotherhour. But what’s that? Where are they goingnow?”

In the darkness it was not quite easy to seemore than that the procession had moved intothe shadow of a depression in the ground nearthe pier. Crawling that he might not be seenagainst the dim skyline, Halstead secured anotherpoint of observation. He thought, now, hecould make out the outlines of a small building.

“I’ll wait until the crowd gets away fromthere before I try for a closer look,” thought theyoung motor boat skipper.

Nor had he long to wait ere the same eightfiled by not far from his hiding place. Halsteadwatched until they were out of sight behindSanderson’s house.

Then the youthful investigator slipped downthe slope and into the shadow. He went cautiously, though, for fear that Don Emilio mighthave posted a guard below.