The Motor Boat Club in Florida: or, Laying the Ghost of Alligator Swamp

The chronometer that the young skipper took over the side with him actually registered twenty-two minutes behind standard time. Sly Tom! He himself had set the hands back while awaiting the coming of the Tremaine party.

Once on shore the young captain hurried to the post office, where he indited an urgent letter to Clayton Randolph. Tom informed the local officer that he had received the latter’s letter, but that it had disappeared before it could be put to use. Halstead urged Officer Randolph, on his return, to send to the captain of the “Restless,” at the Tampa Bay Hotel, another letter by registered mail.

“If you can enclose any other evidence it will be of the greatest value,” Tom wrote, also, by way of stronger hint.

Into the letter Halstead slipped a ten-dollar bill. After sealing the envelope, he handed it to the postmaster, saying:

“Register this, please. And don’t give it to any other than Clayton Randolph – not even to anyone authorized to receive his mail.”

That business attended to, Tom Halstead paid three bills against the boat, then hurried back to the water front, after having set his precious chronometer back to exactly the right time. Again he took boat out to the yacht, and bounding up on deck, his face was wreathed in smiles.

“Old Chronom. is all right, now,” he called to Henry Tremaine, who was seated in one of the deck chairs, smoking. “Now, we’ll start, sir, just as soon as we can get the anchor up.”

Jeff, who had found time to run home to his mother and inform her of his great luck, lent a strong hand in the preliminaries to starting.

“Do yo’ reckon, Cap’n, yo’d let me pilot the ‘Restless’ out o’ this harbor and some o’ the way down the bay?”

“Go ahead,” smiled Captain Tom, who was feeling unusually contented, at last. “Enjoy yourself all you like, Jeff, until it’s time to go below and turn to preparing the evening meal.”

So Jeff Randolph stood proudly by the wheel as the “Restless” pointed her nose down Oyster Bay, over a smooth sea, on her way to that great Florida winter resort, Tampa.

After their rest the twin motors ran, as Joe phrased it, “as though made of grease.” Everybody aboard appeared to be unusually light-hearted.

“It’s a pleasure to cruise like this,” murmured Henry Tremaine, lighting a fresh cigar.

Jeff, happy over his new vocation, put all his lightest spirits into the preparation of the evening meal. As a guide he had had much experience with cookery. The meal went off delightfully.

Dixon, stepping up the after companionway after dinner, a cigarette between his lips, encountered the young sailing master.

“Good evening,” Tom greeted, pleasantly.

“Oh, good evening,” returned Mr. Dixon, smiling and showing his teeth.

“Did you ever see a pleasanter night than this on the water?” asked Halstead.

“Not many, anyway. I hope the ladies will soon come up to enjoy it.”

“I hope so,” nodded Tom. “Somehow, this sort of a night suggests the need of singing and stringed instruments on deck, doesn’t it?”

He spoke with an affectation of good will that deceived even Oliver Dixon, who, after glancing keenly, at the young captain, suddenly said:

“Halstead, you didn’t seem to like me very well, for a while.”

“If I didn’t,” spoke the young skipper, seriously, “it may have been due to a rather big misunderstanding.”

“Of what kind?” demanded Dixon.

“Well, connected with that miserable affair of the missing money.”

“O – oh,” said Dixon, looking still more keenly at the motor boat skipper.

“I knew,” pursued Tom Halstead, “that I didn’t take the money. For that reason, I suppose, I wondered if you were the one who had taken it? Lately, I have had reason to see how absurd such a suspicion would be.”

“What reason?” demanded Oliver Dixon, his eyes almost blazing into Tom Halstead’s face.

“Why, from Mr. Tremaine I’ve gleaned the idea that you’re so comfortably well off in this world’s goods that taking his few thousands of dollars would be an utter absurdity for you. So the vanishing of that money is back to its old footing of an unexplainable mystery.”

“Did you say anything to Henry Tremaine about your suspicion?” inquired Dixon, looking searchingly at the boy.

“No,” retorted Tom Halstead, curtly. “I had only my suspicion of the moment – no proof. I always try to play fair – and I’m glad I did.”

The companionway door was being opened below. The ladies were ready to come up on deck.

Oliver Dixon held out his hand, as though by strong impulse.

“Halstead, you’re a brick!” he exclaimed. “You’re the right sort of young fellow. I don’t mind your first suspicion, since you realize how groundless it was. We shall be better friends, after this. Your hand!”

Tom took the proffered hand – not too limply, either.

“I hope I’ve lulled the fellow’s suspicion until I can strike,” thought the young sailing master.

While Oliver Dixon said hurriedly to himself:

“This fellow was dangerous, but now I begin to think he’s a fool. If I can keep him lulled for a few days more I may have all my lines laid. Then I can laugh at him – or pay someone to beat him properly!”

Diplomatic Tom! Crafty Dixon!

The ladies had come on deck.

CHAPTER XX

AN INNOCENT EAVESDROPPER

DOWN at Port Tampa, out in the bay, lay the “Restless” at anchor.

Jeff Randolph was aboard the yacht, in sole charge. That Florida boy couldn’t have been coaxed on shore, no matter what the allurement offered. He was supremely happy in the realization of his great ambition.

For four days, now, the Tremaines and their friends, including Captain Halstead and Engineer Dawson, had been at the big, luxurious Tampa Bay Hotel, at Tampa proper, nine miles up from the port.

Both Tom and his chum had demurred mildly, when invited to go with the rest of the party to the hotel.

“Oh, come along,” said Henry Tremaine, genially. “It will do you youngsters good to get away from your yacht once in a while. Up at the hotel you will mix with people, and learn some things of the ways of the world that can’t be learned on the salt water.”

Borne right down in their mild resistance, the boys had yielded and gone with the party.

Nor did either Halstead or Dawson feel at all out of his element in the sparkling life of the great hotel. Both were self-possessed boys, who had seen much of the world. Both were quiet, of good manners, and their shore clothing, once their uniforms were discarded on board the “Restless,” were of good cut and finish.

Altogether, they did enjoy themselves hugely at this fashionable winter resort. Moreover, they made quite a number of pleasant acquaintances in Tampa, and found much to make the time pass pleasantly.