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, with his father, in the probate court,or the great fortune would be forever lost to the young man.
The days from Tuesday to Saturday had been full of suspense and tormentto those most interested. Horace Dunstan had lost his easy-going air. Hestarted at the slightest sound; he hurried up whenever he heard otherstalking. Every new sound gave him hope that his son was about to appearin the flesh.
Far from slow had the search been. Mr. Dunstan's messages had brought ascore of detectives to the scene. Some of these, aided by the localconstables, had scoured the island of Nantucket unavailingly. Thegreater number of the detectives, however, had operated on the mainland,their operations extending even to Boston and New York.
Yet not a sign of the missing boy had been found. There was not a singleclew to his fate, beyond the little that Tom Halstead and Joe Dawson hadbeen able to tell concerning Alvarez and the florid-faced American.
Halstead's notion about Farmer Sanderson's "machinery" had crystallizedinto the belief that the cases of "machinery" received by the farmerwere in reality cases of arms and ammunition, intended to be shipped toaid some new revolution in Honduras. Alvarez and the florid-faced man,the latter undoubtedly a seafaring man, might justly be suspected ofbeing employed in some scheme to smuggle military supplies to Honduras.Tom had read in the newspapers, more than once, that filibusters sendingmilitary supplies to Central American republics label their cases ofgoods "machinery" in order to get past vigilant eyes unsuspected.Gregory Dunstan was known to be interested in revolutionary movements,and Farmer Sanderson might be suspected of helping Alvarez and otherfilibusters by having arms and ammunition shipped to him as machinery,and afterwards slipped out of the country from the end of the farmer'spier on some dark, stormy night. Moreover, Gregory Dunstan and hisfriends were the sole ones who could be interested in having Master Tedvanish at such a time. All parts of the theory fitted nicely together,Tom thought, and Horace Dunstan agreed with him.
Yet anything relating to attempts by filibusters to ship arms secretlyto another country should be brought to the notice of the United StatesGovernment. So Mr. Dunstan wrote fully to the authorities at Washington,who, so far, had not taken the pains to reply to his communication.
During these days the "Meteor" had been almost constantly in service.Tom and Joe felt nearly used up, so incessant had been their work. JedPrentiss was now aboard, for, with detectives arriving and departing atall hours, there was frequently need of serving a visitor with a mealwhile the "Meteor" dashed over the waves to or from Nantucket. Jed wasenjoying himself despite his long hours and hard work. He even foundtime to hang about Joe and learn much about the running of the motor.
By Saturday noon Horace Dunstan, who seemed to have aged much, gave upthe notion that his detectives could aid him at Nantucket. The lastthree on the island were sent over to Wood's Hole on the "Meteor," withinstructions to help the men at work on the case on the mainland.
"Thank goodness, we're through with 'em," grunted Jed, leaving thegalley and coming up through the engine room hatchway. "I hope we'll geta breathing spell to-morrow."
"We've had a brisk four days of it," nodded Tom. "I wouldn't mind thatat all, if only we had gotten any nearer to finding Ted. But all thiswork and nothing gained is enough to wear a fellow out."
It was a part of Tom's nature that he felt keenly all of his employer'sworries over the missing Ted, It worried Halstead, too, to think of anyboy hopelessly losing such a huge fortune as was at stake.
"If only we could find Alvarez, and get a good grip on him," growledHalstead, as Joe came 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 you are, Tom, putting any humanbeing to the torture."
"I said I'd _almost_ be willing to" insisted Tom.
"Well, you won't find Alvarez, so what's the use of arguing?" askedDawson, slowly. "He and his red-faced friend have skipped away from thispart of the country, I believe."
"And Mr. Dunstan has only until Monday," sighed Halstead. "And Ted tolose millions! Did you ever hear of a case of such tough luck before?"
Jed began to whistle sympathetically. He, too, would have given worldsto be able to pounce upon the vanished Ted. For young Prentiss was allloyalty. Having entered the Dunstan employ, he felt all the sorrows ofthe family. The more he thought about the affair the more restless thewhistling boy became.
"How long are we tied up here for?" demanded Jed, at last.
"Until the late afternoon train gets in from Boston," Tom answered,listlessly. "Mr. Dunstan is expecting Mr. Crane, his lawyer, along. IfMr. Crane doesn't arrive we've got to come over again to-morrowmorning."
Jed glanced at the clock before the steering wheel.
"Hours to wait," he went on, dismally. "Well, I'm going ashore tostretch my legs, if there's no objection."
"None at all," Halstead replied, "if you're back on time."
Jed was over the rail in no time, whistling as he went. A few minuteslater Tom Halstead found himself bored by this inactive waiting, and so,as Joe had some cleaning to do on the engine, the young skipper decidedto take a stroll ashore.
In the village all looked so decidedly dull, this hot July afternoon,that Tom walked on through and beyond the little place. After he hadgone the better part of a mile he seated himself on a tumble-down bit ofstone wall between two big trees. It was cool here, and shady. The droneof insects soon made the boy feel drowsy.
"Here, there mustn't be any of this," muttered Halstead, shaking himselfawake. "I mustn't fail to get back to the boat on time."
After that he was wide awake. But the green, the quiet and the cool airmade the young captain feel that he did not care to leave this spotuntil it was necessary. For perhaps fifteen minutes more he sat chewingat a wisp of grass and thinking--always of the missing heir.
Then the sound of a short little cough made him look up. Some one wascoming along the road. That some one came in sight. Almost choking withastonishment, Halstead went backward over the wall. It looked as thoughhe had fallen, but it was all part of his frantic wish to get out ofsight.
"Alvarez, by all that's unbelievable!" he gasped, as he lay utterlystill behind that wall. "It doesn't look like him, but it's his size,his carriage, his walk, his little tickling cough as he inhales hiscigarette!"
The man was coming nearer, walking at a steady though not rapid gait.Tom hugged himself as close to the ground as he could, peering betweentwo stones in the wall. For an instant, as the other went by, Halsteadhad a good glimpse of the fellow. Where Alvarez had but a moustache,this man had a full black beard. Gone were the brown striped trousers,for this man wore a blue serge suit. But the face was swarthy; there wasthe same gleam in the dark eyes. Even the way of holding the fuminglittle cigarette was the same.
"It's Alvarez, or his double, disguised," breathed Halstead, franticwith joy. "I'll jump on him, and pin him to the earth!"
On swift second thought the excited boy changed his mind. It might servea far bigger purpose to follow this swarthy little rascal, if he coulddo so undetected.
Alvarez, apparently, wasn't suspicions of being trailed, for he keptsteadily on. Halstead followed on the other side of the wall, ready todrop out of sight at the first sign of the other's turning. When thewall ended the boy found other shelter, and followed on. It was but ashort chase. A quarter of a mile further on the Spaniard left the road,pushing his way through the bushes and undergrowth of a patch of woodsuntil he came to a small, almost hidden cove. And in this cove, herstern within stepping distance of the land, lay a yellow-hulled steamlaunch.
Tom sank low behind the bushes, and peered through. He could see allthat followed.
"Pedro!" called Alvarez, softly.
A man who had be
en dozing up in a seat by the bow of the boat now awokeand turned, displaying the face of a negro. He was a big and strongbuilt fellow. And Tom, the instant he heard that low call from thebearded stranger, knew it to be Alvarez's voice.
Pedro hurried to the stern. Some talk between the two followed, but intones so low that Halstead could understand not a word of it, until theSpaniard, half turning away, finished by saying:
"I'll be back soon. Be ready--and be watchful."
The negro nodded heavily as the Spaniard started away. But this time TomHalstead made no effort to follow the swarthy one. If the Spaniard wasto return, that would not be necessary.
"I wonder how fast I can return to Nantucket, and then be ready to chasethis craft when she shows her nose outside?" wondered the boy. "For it'sfive to one this launch will make for Alvarez's hiding-place, and thatis where Ted Dunstan is to be found. Yet--confound it all!--if I givechase in the 'Meteor,' Alvarez certainly won't lead us to the place."
It was a puzzling, an immense problem. And whatever was to be done mustbe decided upon instantly. While Halstead still pondered, a cheeringsound came to his ears. "Whirr-ugh! Whirr-ugh!" The negro, in his formerseat at the bow of the launch had proved his watchfulness by going soundasleep and snoring!
"Oh! If I could only get through to Alvarez's hiding-place on _this_boat!" thought Tom wildly, his breath coming hard and fast. No time wasto be wasted in doing nothing. Assuring himself that the negro was stillsoundly asleep, Halstead stepped forward, cat-footed.
Still the black guardian of the boat slumbered. Tom, as he reached thewater's edge, prayed that nothing would disturb the fellow's sleep. Thelaunch was not a cabin affair, but there was a covered deck at the bow,and, under it, a hatchway leading into a little cubby. As the negro satsleeping, his legs crossed squarely before the entrance to that cubby.Then Halstead edged around until he made sure that there was anotherlittle cubby under the stern-sheets of the launch.
"If I could only get in there and hide!" breathed the young skipper,fervently. Hardly had he formed the wish when he stepped stealthily tothe boat. His eyes watchfully on the negro, Tom gained the stern hatch.He bent down before it to inspect the space beyond. The space in therewas small, and much of it taken up by the propeller shaft boxing. Itlooked like taking a desperate chance to try to fold himself up in thattiny space.
"But this is a time to take desperate chances!" gritted the young motorboat captain. "And it's the only chance I see that looks good!"
Another glance at the snoring negro, and Tom Halstead stealthily workedhis feet in through the hatchway. His body followed. He twisted andwriggled until he had got himself as far back into the limited space aswas possible. His head was where he could gaze out into the cockpit ofthe launch.
"I know just what a sardine feels like, anyway, after the packer getsthrough with it," reflected the boy, dryly. He stretched a little, toavoid as much as possible the cramping of his body.
Then he had a wait of many minutes, though at last the hail of Alvarezwas heard from the shore. It took a second call to rouse the sleepingPedro.
"Now, quick out of this," ordered the Spaniard. "Get up the anchor. Thentake your place by the engine."
Alvarez himself went forward to the wheel at the bow. The launch wassoon under way, moving at what appeared to be its usual speed, about sixmiles an hour.
"Neither one has seen me in here," thought Tom, tensely. "Oh, what hugeluck if they go through the trip without seeing me!"
Though Halstead could not even guess it, from where he lay, the launchtook a north-easterly course along the coast, and was presently abouttwo miles from shore.
"Pedro," chuckled the Spaniard, at last, looking back at the negro whosquatted by the engine, "if my own father saw me now would he know mefor Emilio Alvarez? Would he?"
"He'd be a wondahful smart man if he did, fo' shuah," grinned the negro.
"In this disguise I would hardly be afraid to walk about in Nantucket,"continued Senor Alvarez. "I doubt if any of my enemies would recognizeme. They----"
Alvarez's lips shut suddenly with a snap. While he was speaking he hadbeen looking astern. Tom Halstead now squirmed as he saw the Spaniard'sstartled gaze fixed directly on him.
"Pedro!" shouted the swarthy one. "Look sharp, man. There's some one inthat cubby astern!"
Alvarez had started himself to leave the wheel. Then, realizing that theboat would run wild without some one at the helm, he pointeddramatically.
Though Halstead had trusted to the darkness and the shadow in thatcubby, the discovery that he dreaded had happened. Not willing to becaught in there, like a fox in a trap, he made a lively scramble to getout. He was on his feet in the cockpit by the time that Pedro, staringas though at a ghost, leaped up and faced him.
"Grab the boy!" shouted Alvarez in glee. "Nab him and hold him fast.Pedro, you shall have a present for this!"
As Halstead scrambled out he had looked for some object with which todefend himself. There was nothing at hand. He was obliged to face hisbigger assailant with nothing but his fists.
"Keep off!" warned Halstead, throwing up his guard.
As the negro leaped for him Tom shot out his left fist, landing on theside of the black man's head. The blow had no effect, save that itangered Pedro, who struck out with his own right. It was a powerfulblow. Halstead dodged so that he received it only glancingly, but theact of dodging threw him off his balance. He toppled, then plungedswiftly overboard, sinking from sight.
"Stop the engine! I want him alive!" screamed Alvarez, leaping away fromthe wheel.
Pedro responded swiftly, stopping the speed, then reversing the enginebriefly. The launch was brought to, almost stationary, close to theplace where Tom Halstead had fallen overboard.
"Get the boat hook," commanded Alvarez. "Jump in after him if necessary.I want that meddling boy. I've a score to settle with him."
But, though both remained at the rail for some time, peering down intothe water, Tom Halstead did not reappear.
"Fo' goodness' sake," chattered the black man soberly, "dat boy donesink, fo' shuah. He ain't gwine come back, boss."
"The propeller must have struck him on the head," declared Alvarezthoughtfully. Then, with a white face and an attempt at a light laugh,he added:
"After all, what does it matter, Pedro? That's the quickest way ofwalking the plank. We didn't mean to drown him--but we're rid of hismeddling!"