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

Tom noted a certain hesitancy about those lastfew words. Again he felt sure that some mysterythreatened the owner’s peace of mind.

Into the cove and up alongside the pier the“Meteor” was run. From here large and handsomegrounds and a huge white house, the latterwell back from the water, were visible.

“We’ll leave Bouncer on board for the present,”said Mr. Dunstan. “I’ll take you up tothe house so you can get used to the place. Byand by we’ll have lunch. And I want to showyou my boy, Ted.”

CHAPTER III – THE LUCKIEST BOY IN THE WORLD

Hardly had Mr. Dunstan’s new boatcrew followed him ashore when awhooping yell sounded from up theroad that led to the house. Then into sightdashed a boy mounted on a pony. On they cameat a full gallop, the boy reining up with a jerkwhen barely six feet from his father.

“Careful, Ted!” warned Mr. Dunstan laughingly.“Don’t ride me down. You’re notyet through with your use for a father, youknow.”

“I was trying to show you, dad, how Sheridanand I are learning our paces together,” repliedthe youngster. He was a rather slightly builtboy, with clustering yellow hair and gray eyes.He wore a khaki suit and a sombrero modeledafter the Army campaign hat. Even his saddlewas of the Army type, being a miniature McClellanin model.

Tom liked this lad after the first look. Therewas something whole-souled about this little fellowwith the laughing eyes. And, though hehad been reared in a home of wealth, there wasnothing in the least snobbish in the way hesuddenly turned to regard the Motor Boat Clubboys.

“Ted, Captain Halstead and his friend, Dawson,”said Mr. Dunstan. “You’ll be glad toknow that they’ve got the ‘Meteor’ in runningorder again.”

Ted was careful to dismount before he offeredhis hand, with graceful friendliness, toeach of the boys.

“You’ve made dad happy if you’ve got hisboat to running again,” laughed Master Ted.

“And you? Aren’t you fond of motor boating?”queried Tom.

“Oh, yes; after a fashion, I suppose,” repliedthe Dunstan hopeful deliberately. “Butthen, you see, I’m cut out for a soldier. I’m togo into the Army, you know, and anything to dowith salt water smacks a bit too much of theNavy.”

All of which remarkable declaration MasterTed made as though he imagined these new acquaintancesunderstood all about his futureplans.

“The Army is fond of the Navy, of course,”the lad added by way of explanation. “Yet, toa soldier, the Army is the whole thing.”

“Oh, I see,” smiled Captain Tom, though intruth he didn’t “see” in the least.

“Yes, Ted’s to be a soldier. He’s doomed – or destined – tothat career,” nodded Mr. Dunstangood-humoredly. “There’s a whole longstory to that, Halstead. Perhaps you and Dawsonshall hear the story later. But for nowwe’d better get up to the house.”

Master Ted evidently took this as a hint thatthe subject was to be pursued no further forthe present, for he merely said in a very graciousway:

“Of course, I shall see you again. So nowI’ll take myself off – with Sheridan.”

Resting his left hand through the bridle andgripping the pony’s mane, Master Ted used hisright hand to strike the pony a smart blow overthe rump. As the pony bounded forward thelad made a flying leap into the saddle. It wassuch a flying start as almost to startle Tom andJoe.

“He rides like a cowboy,” declared Tom admiringly, watching the mounted youngster outof sight.

“He has need to, I fancy,” replied Mr. Dunstangravely. “That is, since he’s going intothe Army, for Ted wouldn’t be satisfied with beinganything less than a cavalryman.”

As Mr. Dunstan’s last words or the tone inwhich they were uttered seemed to dismiss thesubject, Halstead and his chum knew that theywere not to be further enlightened for the present.They followed their employer up to thehouse.

He took them into a roomy, old-fashionedlooking library, with heavy furniture, and, excusinghimself, left them. He soon returned tosay:

“The family are now at luncheon, all exceptMaster Ted, so I have given instructions to haveluncheon served to us in here presently.”

In half an hour the meal was before Mr. Dunstanand the boys. It tasted rarely good aftertheir hasty snatches of food aboard the boat.When it was over Mr. Dunstan took a chair onthe porch, lighted a cigar and said:

“I’m going to take it easy for a while.Would you like to look about the grounds?”

Tom and his chum strolled about. They foundit a delightful country place, covering someforty acres. There was a large stable, a carriagehouse and a garage which contained abig touring car. There were greenhouses, apoultry place and a small power house thatsupplied electric light to the buildings andgrounds.

“It looks like the place of a man who hasenough money, but who doesn’t care about makinga big splurge,” commented Joe.

“It also looks like the place of an easy-goingman,” replied Halstead. “I wonder how a manlike Mr. Dunstan came to get the motor-boatcraze?”

“Oh, I imagine he likes to live out on thisbeautiful old island, and merely keeps the boatas a means of reaching business,” suggestedDawson.

After an hour or more they returned to thehouse to find Mr. Dunstan placidly asleep in thesame porch chair. So the boys helped themselvesto seats, kept quiet and waited. Theywere still in doubt as to whether their employerwanted to use the boat later in the day. Theirswas a long wait, but at last Mr. Dunstan awoke, glanced at his watch and looked at the boys.

“Becoming bored?” he smiled.

“Oh, no,” Tom assured him, “but I’ve hadhard work to keep from falling sound asleep.”

“Have you seen Master Ted lately?”

“Not since we first met him down by thepier.”

“That’s a youngster with quite a picturesquefuture ahead of him, I imagine,” continued Mr.Dunstan. “I call him the luckiest boy alive.Perhaps he is not quite that, but he is going tobe a very rich man if he follows a certaincareer.”

“It must be an Army career, then,” hintedHalstead.

“It is, just that. And I suppose I might aswell tell you the story, if it would interest youany. A lot of people know the story now, sothere’s no harm in repeating it.”

Their host paused to light a cigar before heresumed:

“Ours used to be a good deal of a militaryfamily. In fact, every generation supplied twoor three good soldiers. There were five Dunstans, all officers, serving in the War of theRevolution. There were four in the War of1812, two in the War with Mexico and two inthe Civil War. We gradually fell off a bit, yousee, in the numbers we supplied to the Army.The two who served in the Civil War wereuncles of mine. My father didn’t go – wasn’tphysically fit. There were three of us brothers,Gregory, Aaron and myself. Both were olderthan I. Aaron would have made a fine soldier, but he was always weakly. The fact that hecouldn’t wear the uniform almost broke hisheart. Yet Aaron had one fine talent. He knewhow to make money almost without trying. Infact, he died a very rich man.

“Greg, on the other hand, was what I expectyou would call the black sheep of the family. Hewent to Honduras years ago. He’s a planter, doing fairly well there, I suppose. He’s prettywild, just as he used to be. He’s always gettingmixed up in the many revolutions that they havedown in that little republic of Honduras. Oneof these days I’m afraid he’ll be shot by a fileof government soldiers for being mixed up insome new revolutionary plot.

“My brother Aaron never married. Greghas two daughters, but no sons. Ted is my onlyson and Aaron just worshiped the lad as thelast of the race. Aaron wanted Ted to becomea soldier and keep the family in the Army. Theyoungster was willing enough, but I didn’twholly fancy it. However, my brother Aarondied a little while ago and I found he had fixedthe matter so that Ted will have to be a soldier.”

“How could your brother do that?” askedTom.

“Why, you see, under the will, brother Gregis let off with one hundred thousand dollars andI get the same. But there’s a proviso in thewill that if, within ninety days from Aaron’sdeath, Ted appears in probate court with me orother guardian, and there both Ted and myselfpromise that he shall be reared for the UnitedStates Army, then half a million dollars is tobe paid over to myself or other guardian, intrust for the boy. The income from that halfmillion is to be used to rear and educate him.But Ted, as a part of his promise, must makeevery effort to get himself appointed a cadet atWest Point.”

“Some other boy might get the cadetshipaway from him,” suggested Joe Dawson.

“In case Ted simply can’t win a West Pointcadetship,” replied Mr. Dunstan, “then, at theage of twenty-one, his promise will oblige him toenlist in the Army as a private soldier and doall in his power to win an officer’s commissionfrom the ranks.”

“Even then, there’s a chance to fail,” hintedTom.

“If the lad fails absolutely to get a commissionin the Army,” responded Mr. Dunstan, “hewill lose a lot of money – that’s all. There isanother fund, amounting to two and a half milliondollars, that is to be kept at interest untilthe young man is thirty. By that time themoney, through compound interest, will bemuch more than doubled. On Ted’s thirtiethbirthday all that huge sum of money is to beturned over to him if he has won, somehow, acommission as an officer of the Army. If he hastried, but failed, then the money is to be devotedto various public purposes.

“But if Ted fails to go into probate court ontime, with myself or other guardian, and havethe promise made a matter of record, thenhe loses everything. In that case I get thesame hundred thousand dollars as otherwise, but Greg, instead of receiving only ahundred thousand is to get a cool milliondollars.”

“Isn’t your brother Gregory likely to contestsuch a will?” asked Tom thoughtfully.

“The will provides that, if he does contest, heshall lose even his hundred thousand dollars,”Mr. Dunstan replied. “I have had great lawyersgo all over the will, but they can’t find asingle flaw through which it can be broken. Yousee, the will is right in line with what lawyerscall ‘public policy.’ It’s altogether to the publicinterest to have the boys of our best old families,as of the best new ones, brought up with theidea that, they’re to give their lives to the serviceof their country. So the will is bound tostand against any contest, and if Greg or myselftried to break it we’d only cheat ourselvesout of goodly sums of money.”

“Then Master Ted, of course,” pursued Tom,“has been or is going before the probate courtto have the promise recorded.”

“To-day is Tuesday,” answered Mr. Dunstan.“The ninety days are up next Monday. On thatday there will be a short session of probate courtand Ted and I are going to be on hand.”

“Is this the first time probate court has beenin session since the will was read, sir?” askedHalstead.

“Oh, no,” replied their employer in his mosteasy-going tone. “But there was no hurry andI wanted to give the lawyers plenty of time toconsider the matter. Next Monday, beingwithin the required ninety days, will do as wellas any other time.”

“Well, of all the easy-going men!” gaspedTom inwardly. “To think, with such a big fortuneat stake, of dilly-dallying until the very lastday of all!”

“So, you see, Ted really is a very lucky boy,”finished Mr. Dunstan.

“I should say he is!” breathed Halstead, hisface flushing at the thought. He would havebeen happy over a West Point cadetship withoutany enormous reward.

“The luckiest boy I ever heard of!” ventedJoe, his nerves a-thrill over this story of one ofFortune’s greatest favorites. “No wonder yourson, sir, is so eager about being a soldier.”

“Is your brother Gregory in this countrynow?” asked Tom slowly.

“Not to the best of my knowledge,” almostdrawled their employer. “The last I heard ofhim he was still on his plantation in Honduras, probably hatching more revolutionary plots andgiving the government a good excuse for sendingits soldiers to shoot him one of these days.But I do know that, for a while, Greg had Americanlawyers hard at work trying to find someway to smash Aaron’s will. They gave it up, though, and so did Greg, after hearing from methat Master Ted was wild to follow a soldier’scareer.”

Both boys were silent for some time. Yet, ifthey did no talking, their thoughts very nearlyran riot. To them it seemed that Ted Dunstan’slot in life lay in all the bright places of gloryand fortune. How they would have relishedsuch a grand chance!

“By the way,” said Mr. Dunstan, risingslowly and stretching, “I haven’t seen theyoungster in hours. I think I’ll locate him andbring him around here.”

He went into the house. Within the next tenminutes two of the men servants left the house, running hurriedly out of sight in different directions.At the end of twenty minutes Mr. Dunstanhimself appeared, looking actually worried.

“We can’t seem to find Ted anywhere,” heconfessed uneasily. “The young man hasn’tbeen seen since he stabled his pony at half-pasttwelve. I thought he would lunch with Mrs.Dunstan; she thought he was lunching with us.We’ve sent all about the grounds, we’ve telephonedthe neighbors and the town, and all withoutavail. The pony is in the stable and theyoung man seems to have disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” repeated Tom Halstead, springing to his feet, electrified by the news.“Don’t you think it more likely, sir, he’s beenhelped to disappear?”

“You think he may have been spiritedaway?” demanded Mr. Dunstan. “But why?”

“Haven’t you yourself told us, sir, that itwould be worth some one’s trouble, to the extentof nine hundred thousand dollars, to havethe boy vanish?” asked Tom breathlessly.

“You suspect my brother?”

“Pardon me, sir, for forgetting that GregoryDunstan is your brother,” Tom went on whitening.“Yet that talk about disabling the ‘Meteor’!The man who looked like a Spaniard – butthe people of Honduras are of Spanish descent.Why should anyone want to disable the‘Meteor,’ unless to stop a pursuit by water?You yourself have told us that your brother hasa weakness for mixing up in revolutions downin Honduras.”

All this Halstead had shot out jerkily, thinkingeven faster than he spoke.

“But at this very moment Greg is down inHonduras,” objected Mr. Dunstan.

“Even if he is, wouldn’t friends of his, whomay want funds for a new revolution, see howeasy it was to get the money through gettingTed out of the way?” asked Tom quickly.“Grant that your brother is wholly innocent ofany plot about your son. Wouldn’t supposedfriends of his perhaps be willing to spirit theboy away, knowing that if the big money prizewent to your brother, Gregory Dunstan couldafterwards be persuaded to throw his fortuneinto some new revolutionary cause?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all possible – horribly possible,”admitted Mr. Dunstan, covering his facewith his hands. “And Greg, who is a citizenof Honduras now, has even had aspirations inthe way of becoming president of Honduras.Halstead, I will admit that I had even thoughtof the possibility of some just such attempt asthis, and yet in broad daylight I dismissed it allas idle dreaming. And now Ted’s gone – heavenonly knows what has become of him!”

“Of course,” put in Joe coolly, “it may turnout that the youngster just went fishing. Hemay walk in any moment for his supper.”

“But he went without his lunch,” retortedMr. Dunstan. “That was wholly unlike Ted.”

“The ‘Meteor’ may be disabled now,” brokein Tom. “If she isn’t, won’t it be more thanwell worth while to get the craft out and goscouting through these waters?”

“Yes, yes!” cried Mr. Dunstan. “Come on, boys.”

As they raced down through the groundsthey espied the coachman returning.

“Come along, Michael!” shouted Mr. Dunstan.Then, to the boys he explained:

“If the ‘Meteor’ is fit to go out, Michael cango along with you. If there’s any fighting he’sa heavy-fisted, bull-necked fellow who’d face aregiment of thieves.”

Joe had the key of the engine-room hatchwayout in his hand before they reached the pier.In a jiffy he had the sliding door unlocked, almostleaping down into the engine room. Withswift hands he set the engine in motion.

“All right here,” he reported, while Bouncer, just liberated, frisked about his master’s legsand then whined.

“Keep the bulldog aboard, too, Michael,”called Mr. Dunstan, as he stepped ashore.“Start at once, Captain Halstead. Go as farand wide as you can and hail any craft youthink may have news. Michael, I rely upon youto use your fists if there’s need.”

“If there’s the chanst!” grinned the Irishmanreadily.

“I’ll run back to the house and get in touchwith the police,” Mr. Dunstan shouted backover his shoulder.

Tom sprinted aft along the pier, throwing thestern-line aboard. He leaped aboard forwardwith the bowline, not stopping then to coil it.

Not even calling to Joe, whose head wasbarely six feet away, young Captain Tom Halsteadgave the bridge bellpull a single jerk. Asthe response sounded in the engine room alertJoe gave the engine slow speed ahead. Tomthrew the wheel over and the fine boat glidedout from her berth.

Two bells! Full speed ahead! The “Meteor”forged forward, gaining headway everymoment. The hunt for missing Ted Dunstanwas started in earnest.

CHAPTER IV – SIGHTING THE “PIRATE”

“How much speed do you want for thistrip?” asked Joe, poking his headup through the hatchway as soon asthe “Meteor” was running smoothly northward.

“On a hunt like this I think Mr. Dunstan willwant us to burn gasoline,” Tom answered.“Give her about all the speed she can make.”

“That means twenty-five miles – or more?”insisted Dawson.

“Twenty-five will be close enough to goingfast,” Tom replied.

Almost immediately the fast motor boat beganto leap through the water. Though the boatminded her helm sensitively, Halstead restedboth hands upon the wheel, watching intentlyahead.

“Hey! What you trying to do? Swamp us, with your wake?” demanded an irate fishermanin a dory, as they raced past him.

But they had gone only close enough to enablebig Michael, standing on the deck house, topeer at the inside of the dory.

Several other small craft without cabins theyran close to in the same manner, making surethat no stolen boy was on any of them.

Up near Great Point they encountered a cabinsloop. Michael, however, recognized a clergymanfriend as one of this party, so Halsteadpassed them with only a friendly toot from theauto whistle.

Then down around the east coast of Nantucketthey sped, further out to sea now, since inshoreno craft were observed. They kept on untilthe south coast, too, had been passed, but therewas no sign to gladden their eyes nor arousetheir suspicions. Next along the south shore ofthe island the “Meteor” raced, and on out toMuskeget Island. From this point they hadonly to round the latter island and steer straightback for the inlet where Mr. Dunstan’s pier lay.

“Sure, I don’t like to go back stumped likethis,” growled Michael.

“No more do I,” rejoined Tom. “Say, we’vegot daylight enough; I’m going to retrace ourwhole course and keep in closer to shore.”

Joe, who for some time had been on deck, nodded his approval. Cutting a wide sweep,Tom headed back, going now within a quarterof a mile of the shore.

“It begins to look,” hinted Joe, “as thoughwhoever is leading the young Dunstan heirastray hasn’t taken him off the island of Nantucketat all.”

“There are plenty of hiding places on Nantucket, aren’t there?” inquired Tom, turning tothe big coachman.

“Plenty,” nodded Michael, “if the rapscallionsknew their way about the old island. But,by the same token, the rascals would be in plentyof danger of being found by the constables.”

“Of course Mr. Dunstan is having the localofficers search,” pondered Tom aloud. “Hesaid he would. He can telegraph the mainlandfrom the island, too, can’t he, Michael?”

“Sure,” nodded the coachman.

“Then Mr. Dunstan must have waked upsome pretty big searching parties by this time, both on the island and on the mainland,” Halsteadconcluded. “But see here, Michael, whywouldn’t it be a good plan to put you ashore?You can telephone Mr. Dunstan and see ifthere’s any news.”

“And if there ain’t any,” suggested the Irishman,“I might as well be going home acrossthe island on foot, and keeping me eyesopen. I can ask questions as I go along, andmaybe be the first of all to find out any ralenews.”

“That’ll be the best plan of any,” approvedHalstead. “It begins to look more sure, everyminute, that we’re not going to need your finelot of muscle.”

At the lower end of the east coast of the islandTom remembered having seen a pier that wouldserve them for landing the Irishman. Theymade for that pier accordingly and Michaelleaped ashore.

“I’ll telephone and then come back withinsight,” the coachman called back to them, ashe started. “If ’tis good news I’m hearing, I’llthrow up me hat two or three times. If ’tis nonews, I’ll wave a hand.”

The “Meteor” then fell off, but kept to herbearings while ten minutes passed. ThenMichael appeared in sight from the shore. Hewaved one hand and signed to the boys to keepon their course.

“Too bad!” sighed Tom. “But it makes itmore certain than ever now, doesn’t it, Joe, thatsome real disaster has happened to young TedDunstan? It’s past the lad’s dinner time now.No healthy boy goes without either luncheon ordinner, unless there’s a big reason for it.”

“Unless Ted has merely gone to some friend’shome and has forgotten to notify his parents,”suggested Dawson.

“But Ted doesn’t strike me as the boy who’slikely to do that. He’s a fine little fellow, andI don’t believe he’d be guilty of being so inconsiderateas to leave home for hours withouttelling some one.”

They had the “Meteor” under full headwaynow. Tom, with one hand on the wheel, kept akeen lookout. They had run along some mileswhen Halstead gave a sudden gasp, made adive for the rack beside the wheel that held thebinoculars and called sharply:

“Take the wheel, Joe!”

With that Tom Halstead bounded down intothe engine room. Over at one of the openportholes he raised the marine glasses to hiseyes.

“What’s the matter?” called down Joe, filledwith the liveliest curiosity.

“Matter enough!” came his chum’s excitedrejoinder. “Don’t look when I tell you. Keepyour eyes on your course ahead. But you sawthat little pier over at port?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe you noticed a man sitting there?”

“I did,” Joe admitted.

“When I first saw him,” Tom went on, showinghis animated face at the hatchway, “I didn’tthink much about him. But the second time Ilooked I thought I saw something that broughtback recollections. That was why I came downhere for a near-sighted peep through the glasses.The fellow couldn’t see me down here and soought not to suspect that we have noticed himparticularly.”

“But who is he?” cried Joe eagerly.

“Oh, he’s the right man, all right,” Tom retortedperhaps vaguely. “He’s got on eitherthe same pair or another pair just like ’em.”

“Pair? Of what?” demanded Joe.

“Trousers, of course, you dull old simpleton!”whipped out Halstead. “Joe, it’s thesame old pattern of brown, striped – ”

“The Span – ”

“The pirate, I call him,” growled Halstead, stepping up on deck and replacing the binocularsin their rack without another look ashore. Theywere rapidly leaving astern the solitary oneseated against the pier rail.

“Do you think – ” began Joe, but Tom gavehim no chance to finish.

“I don’t think anything,” broke in Halstead, alive with energy. “I am going to know – that’swhat.”

Tom took the wheel himself, swinging thecraft around a point of land just ahead.

“Look back, Joe. This shuts us out from thesight of that striped pirate, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” nodded Dawson.

Tom shut off the speed, adding:

“Stand ready, Joe, to use speed or wheel, andkeep her about so-so. I’m going to lower thedingey into the water and row ashore. I’ll riga line to her stern, so you can haul her back.Don’t bother to get the small boat up at thedavits. Just make her fast astern. Andthen – ”

“Wait here for you,” guessed Joe.

“No, as soon as you get the dingey made fast, put on headway and run the boat back to Mr.Dunstan’s pier. Report to him, telling him justwhat I’m doing and assure him I won’t be afraidto telephone if I learn anything worth while.I’ll get over to his place as soon as I can, laterin the evening.”

Tom got the small boat into the water, leftone end of a small rope in Joe’s hands androwed somewhat more than a hundred feet tothe beach. From there he waved his hand. Joebegan to haul in on the line. Within thirty feetof the beach the woods began; Halstead wasquickly lost to his chum’s sight.

Full darkness came on while Tom was stillin the woods heading cautiously south. As hehastened along, making little or no noise, Halsteadwondered what he would do with the manin case he discovered him to be really one ofthe pair who had sat in the seat ahead on thetrain.

“I suppose I’d better wait and make up mymind after I’m sure it is the same fellow,” Tomconcluded.

The young skipper did not, at any time on thisswift walk, move far from the shore line. Atlast he came to the edge of the woods, a veryshort distance from the pier he was seeking.There was still a man there, seated on the railof the pier. There were some bushes, too, to aidin shielding the boy’s forward progress if heused care. Tom went down, almost flat, thencrept forward, moving swiftly, silently, betweenbushes.

At last he was near enough to be sure of hisman, trousers and all. It was the same manHalstead had seen on the train. The “pirate”was at this moment engaged in rolling a cigarette.