They were approaching a wide bend in the river. Anchored launches andtrim sailboats dotted the shadowy water like immaculate sentinels.Skippy’s restless eyes roved over the silent scene until he espied thegraceful sweep of a yacht’s bow projecting out of the shadows into theline of its anchor light. Simultaneously he saw great gold lettersspelling out the name _Apollyon_ and it occurred to him how modest andneat was the brass lettering of the _Minnie M. Baxter_ in contrast.
The white, dainty craft swayed ever so gently on the slight swell andSkippy was lost in envy. He bethought himself of the sprawling uncouthbarge and for a moment wondered why things were like this; why a man ofJosiah Flint’s sort could own this dainty, spotless yacht while hisfather who wanted so much to be honest had not even the worth of thehard-earned barge.
For the first time, he understood how bitter and revengeful his fathermust feel. He too felt bitter and revengeful as they got closer to the_Apollyon_. Something began to smolder in his boy’s heart; somethingwholly alien to his cheerful, wholesome nature. But he was aware ofnothing of this, save that he felt like sneering aloud at this proud,complacent craft swaying before his eyes. In a wild fancy he imaginedher to be mocking his father and himself for daring to hope that JosiahFlint would make restitution.
A dim light shone amidships and save for the anchor lights the rest ofthe yacht was in darkness. Skippy stared hard at her and suddenly sawsomething skimming away from her port side.
He leaned far over the prow of the little motor boat until he saw thatthe object was a kicker like their own with its engine muffled. Inwhispered words he drew Toby’s attention to it.
“Wonder where she’s been and where she’s goin’ to, huh Pop?” he queried.
“That ain’t none uv our business, Skippy,” his father answered staringup at the _Apollyon_. “Folks on the river don’t think uv them thingsthis time uv night. They know a muffled engine’s one that ain’t carin’ter be heard, same as I got one fer mine.”
“We could have ours taken off now, huh Pop? It ain’t any more use now,is it?”
“That all depends, Sonny. It all depends on Ol’ Flint,” Toby saidsoftly. “Now here we are an’ the less said, the better.”
“Ahoy!” called a voice in deep, soft tones from above. “Who’s below?”
Father and son glanced up to see the head and shoulders of a burly manleaning over the glistening rail. Skippy saw Toby stiffen determinedly.
“Ol’ Flint aboard?” he asked.
“Yeah,” the man answered suppressing a yawn. “He’s in his cabinamidships. Lookin’ for him?”
“Yeah.”
“Move the kicker aft an’ come aboard. Old man was talkin’ with Mr.Skinner when I come on duty two hours ago. His light’s still on so he’sreadin’ likely.”
The little boat moved aft with hardly a splash and the next moment Tobywas scrambling up the ladder. Skippy listened intently as his father setfoot on the _Apollyon’s_ deck.
“Want me to tell him he’s got a caller?” the man suddenly asked.
“Nope. Thanks jest the same,” Toby was saying. “I even got half an ideethat mebbe he expects me.”
“Awright, buddy,” said the man heartily. “You’ll find him ’midships likeI told you. There where the little light is.”
Skippy heard the soft tread of his father’s step along the deck. A doorclosed and after an interval of silence he looked up to see that the manwas still there, bending over the rail and apparently staring at him.
“Your Dad, hey kid?” he asked, catching Skippy’s upturned eyes.
“My Pop,” Skippy corrected, chuckling. He liked the man’s hearty voice.“You work aboard this yacht, Mister?”
“Second mate, that’s what. Easy job summers when the old man’s busy. Allwe do is to sleep and keep the old girl ship-shape.”
“Old girl?”
“Yeah, this scow.”
“Some scow!” Skippy laughed. “She’s pretty swell, I’ll say. Not muchtrouble keepin’ _her_ ship-shape, huh?”
“Naw. There ain’t enough to keep us busy an’ it makes a swab lazy.Same’s me tonight. Here I am the only one on duty (there ain’t no needfor more’n one, anchored here like we are) and things are so quiet whatdo I do but fall sound asleep! I’d sat me down and I hear the old manbawlin’ Mr. Skinner out fierce. Then I guess I was dozin’ a spell ’foreI heard the sound of a muffled motor aft. Dreamed it, I guess, and Idreamed I heard somebody comin’ out from the boss’s quarters ’midships.Anyways, I finally woke up and when I come to the rail I see you folks.Guess that’s what I was hearin’ in my dreams all the time, hey?”
“Maybe,” said Skippy. “Our motor’s muffled, I guess you noticed already,but you might ’a’ heard another kicker like ours too because one was aftwhen we came along.”
“Guess maybe that’s what it was then,” said the second mate pleasantly.“Just somebody bein’ a little cautious, like. Still I got to quit bein’so lazy nights and do my duty by _Polly_ like the old man pays me for.”
“_Polly?_”
The second mate laughed softly and Skippy fancied that his mischievouswink penetrated the darkness.
“_Apollyon_—_Polly_ for short, kid! _Apollyon_ is too highfalutin forable seamen, hey?”
“That’s what I thought, Mister. I never heard it before. Gee whiz,what’s it mean anyway?”
The second mate paused a moment.
“From what I could make out from the Cap’n it was the name of a Greekstory or somethin’. You know—one of them real old Greeks thousands ofyears back. And this _Apollyon_ was a evil spirit or somethin’ likethat, and folks called ’im the Destroyer! Ain’t that a name for you?”
Skippy nodded and looked at the graceful ship with a new interest. Evilspirit? Destroyer? A queer name indeed for such a dainty craft. Whyshould Josiah Flint give that beautiful hull such an evil name? Thesound of a dull thump interrupted his thoughts.
“I couldn’t work on a ship with a name like that,” he said to the secondmate at length.
“Why?” the man laughed. “Superstitious?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Skippy answered seriously. “At least I neverthought I was sup-super-superstitious more’n most kids. But it don’tseem exactly fair callin’ a nice ship like that the destroyer or an evilspirit or whatever _Apollyon_ really means. Gee, I’ve heard my Pop saythat a ship kinda gets lookin’ like its name an’ actin’ like its nameafter a while. That’s why he named the barge he bought from Mr. Flintafter my mother; the _Minnie M. Baxter_ she’s called. He said she’d bethe nicest barge on the river if she took after my mother. But so far itain’t worked out,” he added wistfully.
“No?” the second mate inquired sympathetically.
Skippy summed up the whole story of his father’s misfortune in a fewwords. Particularly did he stress Toby’s grief over Josiah Flint’swilful deception in the transaction.
“And so your Pop’s come to make the old man come across, hey? Well, Idon’t blame him.” The man lowered his voice to a mere whisper. “I onlyhope he don’t get the boss in a nasty temper ’cause he’s not one to givein and he sounded like he was good and sore when he was bawlin’ out Mr.Skinner. Besides, he ain’t the one to admit he cheated your pop either.Still....”
A low moan startled them both and suddenly a door slammed, followed bythe sound of someone running along the deck. Skippy stood straight up inthe motor boat and listened intently.
He knew those footsteps and he knew what was in the mind that directedthem with such force. His father never hurried, much less ran, unless hewas terribly angered or pained or....
He dared not complete that thought, nor did he have need to, for hisfather’s drawn, white face was already looking down at him from abovethe rail and Skippy read there all that he needed to know.
Something terrible had happened.
CHAPTER VI A STRANGE STORY
The little motor boat had left the _Apollyon_ far beh
ind, ignoringshouts from its deck to halt, before Skippy dared break the tensesilence.
“Gee, Pop,” he stammered fearfully, “what happened between you and Mr.Flint anyway, huh? Because you didn’t even say goodnight to the mate an’you got in the boat an’ told me so cranky an’ all to push off before Igot a chance to say goodnight to him, either—gee whiz! I never seen youact so funny before in my life. What’s the matter, huh?”
Toby Dare groaned and buried his face between his hands. Then, for whatseemed to Skippy an interminable time, he rocked to and fro and thegroans that escaped him were distressing to the waiting boy.
Finally Skippy could stand it no longer.
“Pop, you gotta tell me what’s the matter! Gee, it’s somethin’ terriblethe way....”
“Sonny,” Toby interposed brokenly, “git back ter the _Minnie M. Baxter_jest as quick as yer kin! I got ter put as much water between me—mean’—an’ _him_ as it’s possible ter put.”
“Pop?”
“It’s like a dream, Sonny—a bad dream—a terrible dream. I can’t makehead or tail uv it yet. I went ter his cabin ’midships like that matetold me....”
“Yes?” Skippy encouraged.
“I knocked on the door an’ I could uv sworn I heard a kinda grunt likeOl’ Flint does. He’s a man uv few words. Anyways, I goes in an’ therehe’s sittin’ in a big chair with a funny grin on his face.”
“Grinnin’ at _you_, Pop?” Skippy asked clenching his straight whiteteeth.
“That’s what I thought an’ right away I got wild,” Toby answered runninghis hands nervously through his disheveled hair. “I forgot what Ipromised—I forgot everythin’ ’ceptin’ the way he’d cheated me an’ I gottellin’ him so but he didn’t say nothin’, but jest kep’ sittin’ therea-grinnin’ that funny way. Well, I knowed as how he always was a man uvfew words but I thought he could stop grinnin’ an’ at least say_somethin’_. But he didn’ an’ that’s what made me see red—I thought hewas a-makin’ fun uv me, sorta, an’——”
“You didn’t go for him?” Skippy interposed fearfully.
“Sonny, I jest sorta lost my head,” answered Toby brokenly. “I kinhardly remember what happened ’ceptin’ I realized all uv a sudden that Ihad my hands ’round his throat an’ I was chokin’ him.”
“And didn’t he make any noise or anythin’?” Skippy was horrified.
“That’s what made me let go. I got wise right then that somethin’ wasfunny ’cause he didn’t let a sound outa him all the time. His eyesseemed ter git funnier lookin’ though, but he kep’ on grinnin’ jest thesame. Then I let go quick an’ _plop_—over he fell, head first he fellan’ that’s when I saw it——”
“_What?_”
“That he’d been shot in the back,” Toby whispered looking aboutuneasily.
“_Pop!_”
“Sure as guns, Skippy,” Toby moaned pitifully. “Then I knew he mustabeen dead all the time—even before I got in the room.”
Skippy too groaned.
“How—how could he sit up like that then, if he really was _dead_?” heasked with an audible gulp.
“That’s what I’ve been wonderin’ an’ all I kin think is that whoever didit, sat him up that way after it happened. I could see in his bedroomoff uv the room he was sittin’ in an’ papers was lyin’ all ’round likeas if there’d been a scrap.”
“With somebody else,” Skippy murmured as if to himself. Then, in afrightened whisper: “What then, Pop?”
“All I could do was stand there like a crazy man,” Toby groaned. “Idon’t even remember how long I stood there. It’s all like part uv thatnightmare so I can’t remember.”
“I know, Pop.” Skippy tried to sound comforting. “Who—what groaned thattime? The second mate and me heard it plain’s anythin’.”
“Me. That was when I knew he was dead! It jest sorta come ter me full inthe face an’ I was so full uv fright that I had ter let it out someway.”
Skippy turned around and for a few moments searched the face of hisunhappy father.
“Pop—Pop,” he faltered, “just one thing I can’t understand—why—whydidn’t you tell the second mate, an’ me, right then? Why—why didn’t youspurt it right out an’ not run away when you know you didn’t do it?”
“Who’d believe it?” Toby answered hopelessly. “There was the mark uv myfingers on his throat—_there they was_! I’d even have ter admit ter thatmate that I was mad enough ter choke Ol’ Flint ter death—he could see myfingers there ter prove it, couldn’t he? Well, why wouldn’t he think Igive him an automatic in the back afterwards, hey? Why wouldn’t he?”
“_But, Pop!_ If you only had said _sumpin_!”
“I wanted ter git away from that awful grinnin’ face. As far away as Ic’d get. I—I couldn’t stay there ter tell nobody _nothin’_, Skippy.Besides, do I know I didn’t choke him ter—ter...” He sobbed a moment,then looked up. “Mebbe ’twasn’t the automatic what really got him,Skippy—mebbe ’twas _me_, hey?”
Skippy reached out and grasped Toby’s damp flannel shirt sleeve inagony.
“Pop, it wasn’t you—I know it—_I just feel it_!” he cried. “I can tellfrom all you told me about him grinnin’ like from the time you gotinside the room.” He hesitated a moment, then: “You don’t remember himmakin’ a sound at all?” he asked, anxiously peering into his father’sface.
“Not one sol’tary sound, Sonny—I didn’t hear a one!”
Skippy sighed and again took up the task of steering the little motorboat upstream. His tired young face, however, had taken on a new look ofresolution.
“You’re tired, Pop, an’ I’m gonna take you back to the _Minnie M.Baxter_. Then I’m gonna turn this kicker straight back and head herdownstream again an’ I’m goin’ aboard that _Apollyon_ an’ explain thewhole thing. I’ll tell ’em everythin’ like you told me an’ I bet they’llbelieve it all right ’cause they’ll see that my Pop couldn’t killanybody.”
Toby said nothing but continued to rock back and forth with his head inhis hands.
“Maybe—maybe you’re not so tired an’ you’d turn ’round with me an’ goback an’ tell ’em, huh Pop?” Skippy returned anxiously.
“Skippy,” Toby cried hoarsely, “jest now I wanta go back ter the _MinnieM. Baxter_ an’ think. Like a good boy don’t talk about it no more tillwe get there, hey?”
Skippy, bewildered, promised that he wouldn’t, and let the little kickerout to the best of her ability. From time to time he heard the miserablesighs of his father, and over and over again he told himself the storyof Josiah Flint’s strange death just as Toby had told it. But with eachrecurring thought, a strange suspicion asserted itself and clamored sohard in the boy’s conscious mind that he was forced to recognize that itwas a doubt, a small one, but nevertheless a doubt of his father’sstory.
And by the time they were once more on board the _Minnie M. Baxter_,Skippy was fearful that possibly, after all, his father might be theactual murderer of Josiah Flint!
CHAPTER VII FOR SKIPPY
Skippy washed the dishes and cleaned up the cabin, then made some freshcoffee. He put the two cups on a little tin tray and carried it out ondeck where his father sat disconsolately puffing a pipe.
“I made this good an’ careful, Pop,” he said, handing Toby a cup of thesteaming beverage. “Maybe it’ll make you feel better, it’s so hot.”
Toby took the proffered cup and smiled wanly.
“Yer think your Pop’s a coward, takin’ on this way?” he asked anxiously.
Skippy flushed and, to cover his embarrassment, sat down on a stool alittle distance away.
“Nah, I don’t think that, Pop,” he said at length. “I guess I know howkinda crazy an’ different you’d act after seem’ that. Gee, it musta beenpretty awful to make you act so different.”
“I know how yer mean by different, Sonny, but I ain’t blamin’ yer. Iknow it must look funny, but it ain’t. Besides I ain’t
a coward ’boutit. If I’d told the mate right on the spot, he’d had ter keep me tillthe police come. Then what would happened ter _you_? Even if I givemyself up now they’ll hold me on charges an’ the law’s that slow, it’llbe months mebbe ’fore I kin clear myself.”
“But that’d be better’n lettin’ ’em think you was the one that killedMr. Flint, wouldn’t it?”
“I thought mebbe we could run somewheres out west or the like, heySkippy? Yer don’t know what the law is once yer git in its fist. If theycan’t find nobody else they’ll pin it on me no matter what we say—I knowit! So we might’s well take our duds an’ beat it now.”
“Pop, you’re not talkin’ like yourself. You got sorta crazy on accountathinkin’ how all this’ll hurt me. Gee whiz, forget about me, because youcan’t have the cops thinkin’ you did it, when you didn’t! Gee, I’ll getalong somehow, honest I will, Pop. I’ll get along better to know you didwhat was right an’ told the truth. An’ even the law I bet can see when aman’s tellin’ the truth an’ they’ll let you out quick—so will you go formy sake, Pop?”
Toby brought a hairy fist down on his bony knees.
“It’s fer yer sake that I didn’t want ter go near ’em, Skippy,” he saidvehemently. “But if yer promise yer Pop ter stay good an’ all till theylet me out, I don’t care. Fer my sake I _wanta_ go!”
“Gee, Pop, I’m glad!”