CHAPTER XV
NAT HEARS SOME NEWS
Nat took off his wet garments, and donned some others, while the dampones were put to dry over one of the boilers. In the meanwhile Sam hadbeen revived. He was not much hurt, but he had swallowed a quantity ofwater, which made him quite ill.
"I'll have that Nat Morton arrested for assault and battery," declaredthe mate.
"No--no--don't!" begged his nephew.
"Why not? Didn't he hit you?"
"Yes--but--but I hit him first, and--and Mr. Weatherby saw me."
"Oh," said Mr. Bumstead. "Well, we'll get even with him some way."
"That's what I will," declared Sam, with as much energy as possibleunder the circumstances. "I'm glad he's going. Are you sure I'm tohave his job?"
"Yes, and you'll get more money. I made Captain Marshall agree tothat, though he didn't want to. But you'll have to be very careful.Don't you dare smoke any cigarettes."
"How do you know I do smoke 'em?"
"Oh, I've got a good nose for tobacco," replied his uncle. "I'mwarning you; that's all. I don't like this Nat Morton any more thanyou do, and I'm glad he is going."
The mate did not say why, but it was because he had hidden away acertain wallet, with a name erased from it, and this wallet he did notwant Nat to see.
Owing to the fight between Nat and Sam, it was not until noon that Mr.Weatherby and our hero were able to leave the _Jessie Drew_. By thattime Nat's clothes were dry, and then, without Sam looking on, for hewas below in his bunk, the pilot and the lad whom he had befriendedwent ashore.
"We'll go to the Imperial Hotel," spoke Mr. Weatherby. "That's where Iusually put up, when I'm here, and we'll wait there until the_Mermaid_ docks."
"Is that the name of the ship we are going on?" asked Nat.
"That's her. She's a fine steamer, and Captain Turton is a fine man. Ishall like to work for him, and I believe you will too."
"Maybe he doesn't want me," suggested Nat, for he had been thinking ofthat contingency.
"Oh, I've arranged all that. But I wonder if George Clayton will behere?"
"Where did you expect to meet him?"
"At the hotel. There's the place, just ahead," and the pilot pointeddown the street. "Yes, and there's George, like a lookout in the bowon a foggy night. There, he's signaling us!"
Nat saw a stout, jolly looking man, standing on the hotel steps,waving his hand to Mr. Weatherby.
"Ahoy there!" called Mr. Clayton, when they were within hailingdistance, "how goes it?"
"Very fair. How about you?"
"Oh, I've had pretty good weather, and I managed to keep off the rocksand shoals. But is this Nat Morton, whom you were telling me about?"
"That's Nat," replied the pilot.
"Hum. Looks like his father," commented Mr. Clayton. "Shake hands,young man," and he extended a big one, roughened by many years of toilaboard lake steamers.
"Did you know my father?" asked Nat, with deep interest.
"Indeed, I did. He and I were messmates on many a trip. I was on thesame barge when a big wave washed him overboard. My! but that was arough night!"
"I thought maybe, George," said Mr. Weatherby, "that you could tellNat something about his father's affairs. There seems to be somethingwrong somewhere, but I can't get a clear passage to what it is. Thesignals don't seem to be right, and we're navigating around in a fog.Maybe you can put us on the right course, and we'll get into some sortof a harbor."
"I'll do my best, though I don't know much about his affairs," saidthe stout sailor. "But come on in. I'd like to talk to you."
Nat felt a little strange at meeting one who had known his father sointimately.
But George Clayton was not one to let one feel sad for very long. Whenthey were in his room at the hotel, drinking lemonade, for the day washot, he told Nat all he knew about his father's last voyage.
"And so you're learning to be a pilot," he said to Nat at the close."I thought your father was going to set you up in some business. Hewas afraid you would meet with some accident if you followed the samecalling he did."
"Set him up in business? What do you mean?" asked Mr. Weatherby.
"Well, I don't know exactly what business, but I know Jim--I alwayscalled your father Jim," he explained to Nat--"I know Jim was talkingwhat he was going to do with the profits of the load of lumber--I meanhis share."
"Did Mr. Morton have a share in the load of lumber on the barge fromwhich he was drowned?" asked the pilot.
"Of course. Didn't you know that? Didn't you get his share when hedied?" he asked of the boy.
"I got nothing. Father left nothing, as far as I know."
"Why, he certainly left something," insisted Mr. Clayton. "We all gotour share out of it, and I always supposed his went to his heirs.You're the only one, I understand."
"This is getting to be quite a puzzle," declared Mr. Weatherby."Suppose you explain."
"Well, you certainly surprise me," went on Mr. Clayton. "And Natdidn't get anything after his father died?"
"Not a cent. How could he? Mr. Morton left no papers of any kind."
"Well, he certainly did, for I saw 'em. There was a whole walletful,and among them was a certificate of his share in the lumber deal."
"What lumber deal? What wallet?" asked Nat excitedly.
"I'd better begin at the beginning," said Mr. Clayton, "and tell itall regularly--that is, as much as I know. But first I must have somemore lemonade."
He filled his glass from the pitcher, drank a goodly draught of thebeverage, and began:
"Jim and I and several others formed a syndicate on that lumber. Thatis, we all put our money together and purchased the load. It was goodtimber, and the price was high, and we stood to make considerable. Jimhad five shares, and each share was worth in the neighborhood of threehundred dollars. I had two shares."
"Then my father had fifteen hundred dollars in that lumber deal," saidNat.
"That's what he had, my boy, and where it went to is a mystery."
"Did you get your money out of it?" asked the pilot.
"I certainly did, and so did the others. After that storm, when yourfather was lost overboard, we had a hard job getting the lumber toport, but we managed to do it, and sold it for a good price."
"What was done with the money?" asked Mr. Weatherby.
"It was divided among the members of the syndicate."
"What about Mr. Morton's share?"
"His was laid aside, and the second mate of the barge said he wouldtake it to his address in Chicago. He got it off Mr. Morton's deadbody."
"I never received the money," said Nat.
"That's queer," spoke Mr. Clayton.
"Who was the second mate, who agreed to take Mr. Morton's share tohis heirs?" inquired the pilot.
"He was Joseph Bumstead," was the startling answer, "but I don't knowwhere he is now. He cleared out after we sold the lumber, taking hisshare, and Mr. Morton's, and I haven't seen him since."