The Motor Boat Club at Nantucket Part 11

"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 minutes later Tom Halstead found himself bored by this inactive waiting, and so, as Joe had some cleaning to do on the engine, the young skipper decided to take a stroll ash.o.r.e.

In the village all looked so decidedly dull, this hot July afternoon, that Tom walked on through and beyond the little place. After he had gone the better part of a mile he seated himself on a tumble-down bit of stone wall between two big trees. It was cool here, and shady. The drone of insects soon made the boy feel drowsy.

"Here, there mustn't be any of this," muttered Halstead, shaking himself awake. "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 air made the young captain feel that he did not care to leave this spot until it was necessary. For perhaps fifteen minutes more he sat chewing at a wisp of gra.s.s and thinking-always of the missing heir.

Then the sound of a short little cough made him look up. Some one was coming along the road. That some one came in sight. Almost choking with astonishment, Halstead went backward over the wall. It looked as though he had fallen, but it was all part of his frantic wish to get out of sight.

"Alvarez, by all that's unbelievable!" he gasped, as he lay utterly still 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 his cigarette!"

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 between two stones in the wall. For an instant, as the other went by, Halstead had 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 was the same gleam in the dark eyes. Even the way of holding the fuming little cigarette was the same.

"It's Alvarez, or his double, disguised," breathed Halstead, frantic with joy. "I'll jump on him, and pin him to the earth!"

On swift second thought the excited boy changed his mind. It might serve a far bigger purpose to follow this swarthy little rascal, if he could do so undetected.

Alvarez, apparently, wasn't suspicions of being trailed, for he kept steadily on. Halstead followed on the other side of the wall, ready to drop out of sight at the first sign of the other's turning. When the wall ended the boy found other shelter, and followed on. It was but a short chase. A quarter of a mile further on the Spaniard left the road, pus.h.i.+ng his way through the bushes and undergrowth of a patch of woods until he came to a small, almost hidden cove. And in this cove, her stern within stepping distance of the land, lay a yellow-hulled steam launch.

Tom sank low behind the bushes, and peered through. He could see all that followed.

"Pedro!" called Alvarez, softly.

A man who had been dozing up in a seat by the bow of the boat now awoke and turned, displaying the face of a negro. He was a big and strong built fellow. And Tom, the instant he heard that low call from the bearded stranger, knew it to be Alvarez's voice.

Pedro hurried to the stern. Some talk between the two followed, but in tones so low that Halstead could understand not a word of it, until the Spaniard, 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 Tom Halstead made no effort to follow the swarthy one. If the Spaniard was to return, that would not be necessary.

"I wonder how fast I can return to Nantucket, and then be ready to chase this craft when she shows her nose outside?" wondered the boy. "For it's five to one this launch will make for Alvarez's hiding-place, and that is where Ted Dunstan is to be found. Yet-confound it all!-if I give chase 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 must be decided upon instantly. While Halstead still pondered, a cheering sound came to his ears. "Whirr-ugh! Whirr-ugh!" The negro, in his former seat at the bow of the launch had proved his watchfulness by going sound asleep 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 was to be wasted in doing nothing. a.s.suring himself that the negro was still soundly asleep, Halstead stepped forward, cat-footed.

Still the black guardian of the boat slumbered. Tom, as he reached the water's edge, prayed that nothing would disturb the fellow's sleep. The launch 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 sat sleeping, his legs crossed squarely before the entrance to that cubby.

Then Halstead edged around until he made sure that there was another little 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 to the boat. His eyes watchfully on the negro, Tom gained the stern hatch.

He bent down before it to inspect the s.p.a.ce beyond. The s.p.a.ce in there was small, and much of it taken up by the propeller shaft boxing. It looked like taking a desperate chance to try to fold himself up in that tiny s.p.a.ce.

"But this is a time to take desperate chances!" gritted the young motor boat captain. "And it's the only chance I see that looks good!"

Another glance at the snoring negro, and Tom Halstead stealthily worked his feet in through the hatchway. His body followed. He twisted and wriggled until he had got himself as far back into the limited s.p.a.ce as was possible. His head was where he could gaze out into the c.o.c.kpit of the launch.

"I know just what a sardine feels like, anyway, after the packer gets through with it," reflected the boy, dryly. He stretched a little, to avoid as much as possible the cramping of his body.

Then he had a wait of many minutes, though at last the hail of Alvarez was heard from the sh.o.r.e. It took a second call to rouse the sleeping Pedro.

"Now, quick out of this," ordered the Spaniard. "Get up the anchor. Then take your place by the engine."

Alvarez himself went forward to the wheel at the bow. The launch was soon under way, moving at what appeared to be its usual speed, about six miles an hour.

"Neither one has seen me in here," thought Tom, tensely. "Oh, what huge luck if they go through the trip without seeing me!"

Though Halstead could not even guess it, from where he lay, the launch took a north-easterly course along the coast, and was presently about two miles from sh.o.r.e.

"Pedro," chuckled the Spaniard, at last, looking back at the negro who squatted by the engine, "if my own father saw me now would he know me for 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 recognize me. They--"

Alvarez's lips shut suddenly with a snap. While he was speaking he had been looking astern. Tom Halstead now squirmed as he saw the Spaniard's startled gaze fixed directly on him.

"Pedro!" shouted the swarthy one. "Look sharp, man. There's some one in that cubby astern!"

Alvarez had started himself to leave the wheel. Then, realizing that the boat would run wild without some one at the helm, he pointed dramatically.

Though Halstead had trusted to the darkness and the shadow in that cubby, the discovery that he dreaded had happened. Not willing to be caught in there, like a fox in a trap, he made a lively scramble to get out. He was on his feet in the c.o.c.kpit by the time that Pedro, staring as 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 to defend himself. There was nothing at hand. He was obliged to face his bigger a.s.sailant 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 the side of the black man's head. The blow had no effect, save that it angered Pedro, who struck out with his own right. It was a powerful blow. Halstead dodged so that he received it only glancingly, but the act of dodging threw him off his balance. He toppled, then plunged swiftly overboard, sinking from sight.

"Stop the engine! I want him alive!" screamed Alvarez, leaping away from the wheel.

Pedro responded swiftly, stopping the speed, then reversing the engine briefly. The launch was brought to, almost stationary, close to the place 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 into the water, Tom Halstead did not reappear.

"Fo' goodness' sake," chattered the black man soberly, "dat boy done sink, fo' shuah. He ain't gwine come back, boss."

"The propeller must have struck him on the head," declared Alvarez thoughtfully. Then, with a white face and an attempt at a light laugh, he added: