Harrie Hancock - The Motor Boat Club at Nantucket - or, The Mystery of the Dunstan Heir

Chug! chug! the engine began slowly. Joe, oil can in hand, looked on with the attention ofa scientist making an experiment. Bit by bit heincreased the speed of the engine, smoothing thework with oil.

“Give us a little time and the old motor’llmote,” observed Dawson quietly.

“Yes,” nodded Tom equally observant.

Had they been more of amateurs at the workthey would have felt elated, for the engine respondedto all increased speeds that were tried.But these two had worked enough about motorsto know that such an engine may come to acreaking stop when everything appears to berunning at the best.

Chug! chug! It was a cheery sound as theminutes went by and the motor did better andbetter.

“I’m almost hopeful that everything is inshape,” declared Dawson at last.

“Good morning, boys!” came a pleasant hailfrom the pier. “I see everything is in fine trim.”

“It looks that way, Mr. Dunstan,” answeredTom, stepping up above and, by way of salute, bringing his hand to the visor of the Club’s uniformcap that he had donned this morning.“But motors are sometimes cranky. We don’tdare begin to brag just yet.”

“This morning’s mail brought me a letterfrom Mr. Prescott,” went on the owner, holdingup an envelope. “He has written me sevenpages about you. It seems that you are greatpets of my friend’s. He tells me that I canplace every confidence in you.”

“Why, that’s mighty nice of Mr. Prescott,”replied Tom quietly. He was greatly pleased, nevertheless, for he could now see that Mr. Dunstan’sopinion of them had gone up severalnotches.

“Well, well,” continued the owner, as heglanced smilingly down into the engine room;“are you going to cast off now and take me overto Nantucket? It’s four days since I’ve seen myhome and that lucky little rascal, Ted.”

Tom didn’t know or inquire who Ted was orwhy that “rascal” was so very fortunate. Insteadhe replied:

“We were thinking of a little trial trip first, sir, just to see how the craft will behave underway.”

“Good enough,” nodded the owner. “ButI’m aboard, so why can’t I go with you?”

“Of course you can, sir.”

Tom ran ashore to cast off while Joe did somelast fussing over the motor. Having cast thestern-line aboard and coiled it, Tom now cameforward, throwing off the bowline, boardingwith it.

“Start her up at very slow speed ahead, Joe,”called down the young captain, taking his placeat the wheel and throwing it over a little.

With the first throbs of the propeller the“Meteor” began to glide away from the pier.Mr. Dunstan had taken his post at Halstead’sright. The water being deep enough, the youngcaptain moved out confidently.

“Just a little more speed, Joe,” Tom called, when the pier end was some two hundred yardsastern.

A little faster and still a little faster the propellershaft turned, until it settled down to goodwork. The “Meteor” was moving at abouttwelve miles an hour.

“Fine!” cried Mr. Dunstan joyously.“We’re all right now.”

“We’re not yet quite out of the – well, I won’tsay woods, but sea woods,” smiled Tom quietly.

“I’m forgetting my duty,” cried Mr.Dunstan in sudden self-reproach. “I mustact a bit as pilot until you know these watersbetter.”

“Why, I studied the chart, sir, nearly all theway from Portland,” replied Tom. “I thinkI am picking up the marks of the course allright.”

“You can’t see Nantucket from here, but canyou point straight to it?” inquired Mr. Dunstan.

“I’m heading straight along the usual coursenow,” Tom replied.

“Right! You are. I guess you know yourway from the chart, though you’ve never seenthese waters before. Keep on. I won’t interfereunless I see you going wrong.”

“Shall I head straight on for the island?”asked Halstead. “Or would you rather keepclose to the mainland until we see how theengine behaves?”

“Keep right on, captain, unless your judgmentforbids.”

Tom, therefore, after a brief talk with hischum through the open hatchway, held to hiscourse, to the south of which lay the big islandof Martha’s Vineyard, now well populated bysummer pleasure seekers.

Notch by notch Joe let out the speed, thoughhe was too careful to be in a hurry about that.He wanted to study his machine until he knewit as he did the alphabet. Every fresh spurtpleased the owner greatly.

“Your Club has some great fellows in it ifyou two are specimens,” said Mr. Dunstan delightedly.“Prescott knew what he was writingwhen he told me to stand by anything youwanted to do.”

By the time when they had the Vineyard fairlysouth of them and the craft was going at morethan a twenty-mile gait, Tom judged that heshould inform the owner of the happening of thenight before. He therefore called Joe up fromthe motor to take the wheel. Then Halstead toldMr. Dunstan what had taken place, exhibitingthe fragment of cloth secured by Bouncer andconnecting this, in theory, with the swarthy manthey had seen aboard the train.

Bouncer, looking up in his master’s face andwhining, seemed anxious to confirm Tom Halstead’snarration.

“Why, there’s something about all this thatwill make it well for us all to keep our eyesopen,” said Mr. Dunstan.

Tom, watching the owner’s face, felt that thatgentleman had first looked somewhat alarmed, then much more annoyed.

“There’s something that doesn’t please himand I shouldn’t think it would,” the young captainreflected. “Yet, whatever it is he doesn’tintend to tell me, just yet, at all events. I hopeit’s nothing in the way of big mischief thatthreatens.”

“Of course I’d suggest, sir,” Tom observedfinally, “that Dawson and myself sleep aboardnights.”

“You may as well,” nodded the owner, andagain Tom thought he saw a shadow of worrimentin the other’s eyes.

“Are you going to let Bouncer stay aboard, too, sir?” Tom asked.

“Ordinarily I think I’ll let the dog sleep atthe house nights,” replied Mr. Dunstan, immediately after looking as though he were tryingto dismiss some matter from his mind.

Joe, too, had been keen enough to scent thefact that, though Mr. Dunstan tried to appearwholly at his ease, yet something was giving thatgentleman a good deal of cause for thought.Mr. Dunstan even went aft, presently, seatinghimself in one of the armchairs and smokingtwo cigars in succession rather rapidly.

“We’ve put something into his mind thatdoesn’t lie there easily,” hinted Joe.

“But, of course, it’s none of our business unlesshe chooses to tell us,” replied Halstead.

A little later Joe Dawson went down into theengine room to get the best reasonable work outof the motor. Even at racing speed the “Meteor’s”bow wave was not a big one. Therewas almost an absence of spray dashing overthe helmsman. Tom did not need to put on oilskins,as he had often done on the “Sunbeam.”The “Meteor’s” bow lines were so beautiful andgraceful, so well adapted to an ideal racingcraft, that the bridge deck in ordinary weatherwas not a wet place.

As they neared cool, wind-swept Nantucket,Mr. Dunstan came forward once more, to pointout the direction of his own place. This lay onthe west side of the island. As they ran incloser the owner pointed out the mouth of a cove.

“We’ve come over in two hours,” announcedMr. Dunstan, consulting his watch as theyneared the cove.

“Now that we understand the boat and theengine,” answered Tom, “we ought to go overthe course in less than an hour and a half.”

“Fine!” pronounced the owner. “That’swhat the boat was built for. Do that and I canmake the trip to my Boston offices every weekday – if I decide that it’s best to do so.”

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