CHAPTER II
A GLIMPSE OF THE PAST
As the three boys hurried to the river, Dave Porter felt that all hisanticipated sport for that afternoon had been spoiled. He had beenbrought face to face once more with the one dark spot in his history,and his heart was filled with a bitterness which his two loyal chumscould scarcely comprehend.
Dave was indeed a poorhouse boy, and of unknown parentage. When but afew years of age, he had been found one evening in the summer wanderingclose to the railroad tracks just outside of the village of Crumville.How he was found by some farm hands and taken to a house and fed andcared for otherwise, has already been related in the first volume ofthis series, entitled "Dave Porter at Oak Hall."
At first, every effort to learn his identity was made, but, thisfailing, he was turned over to the poorhouse authorities. He said hisname was Dave, or Davy, and sometimes added Porter, and then Dun-Dun,and from this he was called Dave Porter--a name which suited him verywell.
Dave remained at the poorhouse until he was about nine years old, whenhe was taken out of that institution by a broken-down college professornamed Caspar Potts, who had turned farmer. He remained with the oldprofessor for several years, and a warm friendship sprang up between thepair. Caspar Potts gave Dave a fair education, and, in return, the boydid all he could for the old man, who was not in the best of health, andrather eccentric at times.
Unfortunately for Professor Potts, there was in the neighborhood ahard-hearted money-lender named Aaron Poole, who had a mortgage on theold educator's farm. The money-lender had a son named Nat, who was aflippant youth, and this boy had trouble with Dave. Then themoney-lender would have sold out the old professor, had not aid comeopportunely from a most unexpected quarter.
In this volume it is unnecessary to go into the details of how Davebecame acquainted with Mr. Oliver Wadsworth, a rich manufacturer of theneighborhood, and how the boy saved Jessie Wadsworth from being burnedto death when the gasoline tank of an automobile exploded and envelopedthe young miss in flames. For this service the Wadsworths were all morethan grateful, and when Dave told his story Oliver Wadsworth made thediscovery that Caspar Potts was one of the professors under whom he hadstudied in his college days.
"I must meet him and talk this over," said the rich manufacturer, andthe upshot of the matter was that the professor and Dave were invited todine at the Wadsworth mansion.
This dinner proved a turning point in the life of the poorhouse youth.Mr. Wadsworth had lost a son by death, and Dave reminded him strongly ofhis boy. It was arranged that Caspar Potts should come to live at theWadsworth mansion, and that Dave should be sent to some first-classboarding school, the manufacturer agreeing to pay all bills, because ofthe boy's bravery in behalf of Jessie.
Oak Hall was the school selected, a fine institution, located not farfrom the village of Oakdale. The school was surrounded by oaks, whichpartly shaded a beautiful campus, and the grounds, which were on aslight hill, sloped down in the rear to the Leming River.
Dave's heart beat high when he started off for Oak Hall, and he had acurious experience before he reached that institution. The house of aSenator Morr was robbed, and the boy met the robber on the train, and,after a good deal of trouble, managed to recover a valise containing alarge share of the stolen goods. This threw Dave into the company ofRoger Morr, the senator's son, and the two became warm friends. Rogerwas on his way to Oak Hall, and it was through him that Dave becameacquainted with Phil Lawrence--reckoned by many the leader of theacademy; Maurice Hamilton, generally called Shadow; Sam Day, JosephBeggs,--who always went by the name of Buster, because he was sofat,--and a number of others. In Crumville Dave had had one boy friend,Ben Basswood, and Ben also came to Oak Hall, and so did Nat Poole, asflippant and loud-mouthed as ever.
But Dave soon found out that Nat Poole was not half so hard to get alongwith as was Gus Plum, the big bully of the Hall. There was a differenceof opinion almost from the start, and Plum did all he could to annoyDave and his friends. Plum wanted to be a leader in baseball and inathletics generally, and when he found himself outclassed, he wassavagely bitter.
"I'll get square!" he told his toady, Chip Macklin, more than once; buthis plans to injure Dave and his chums fell through, and, in the end,Macklin became disgusted with the bully and left him. Most of the boyswanted nothing to do with the boy who had been the bully's toady, butDave put in a good word for him, and, in the end, Macklin was voted apretty fair fellow, after all.
With the toady gone, Gus Plum and Nat Poole became very thick, and Poolelost no opportunity of telling how Dave had been raised at thepoorhouse. Gus Plum took the matter up, and for a while poor Dave wasmade miserable by those who turned their backs on him. But Doctor Clay,who presided over the academy, sided with Dave, and so did all of thebetter class of students, and soon the affair blew over, at least forthe time being. But now the bully was agitating it again, as we havejust seen.
During the winter term at Oak Hall one thing of importance had occurred,of which some particulars must be given, for it has much to do with ourpresent tale. Some of the boys, including Dave, had skated up the riverto what was locally called the old castle--a deserted stone dwellingstanding in a wilderness of trees. They had arrived at this structurejust in time to view a quarrel between two men--one a sleek-lookingfellow and the other an elderly man, dressed in the garb of a sailor.The sleek-looking individual was the man who had robbed Senator Morr'shouse, and just as he knocked the old sailor senseless to the ground,the boys rushed in and made him a prisoner.
When the old sailor came to his senses, he stared at Dave as if the boywere a ghost. He said his name was Billy Dill and that he had sailed theSouth Seas and many other portions of the briny deep. He insisted thathe knew Dave well, and wanted to know why the youth had shaved off hismustache. The boys imagined that the tar was out of his head, and hewas removed to a hospital. Later on, as Dave was so interested in theman, Mr. Wadsworth had him taken to a private sanitarium. Here helingered for awhile between life and death, but at last grew betterphysically, although his mind was sadly unbalanced, and he could recallthe past only in a hazy way.
Yet he insisted upon it, over and over again, that he had met Davebefore, or, if not the youth, then somebody who looked exactly like him,although older. Pressed to tell his story, he said he had met this manon Cavasa Island, in the South Seas. He also mentioned a crazy nurse anda lost child, but could give no details, going off immediately into awild flight about the roaring of the sea in his ears and the dancing ofthe lighthouse beacon in his eyes.
"He must know something of my past," Dave said, when he came away fromvisiting the old tar. "Oh, if only his mind were perfectly clear!"
"We must wait," answered Oliver Wadsworth, who was along. "I think hismind will clear after awhile. It is certainly clearer now than it wassome months ago."
"The man he knows may be my father, or some close relative."
"That may be true, Dave. But don't raise any false hopes. I should notlike to see you disappointed for the world."
Dave knew that Phil Lawrence's father was a shipping merchant ofconsiderable standing, owning an interest in a great number of vessels.He went to Phil and learned that the boy was going to take a trip to theSouth Seas that very summer, and was going to stop at Cavasa Island.
"I am going on business for my father," explained Phil. "It is somethingspecial, of which he wishes the supercargo to know nothing." And then hetold Dave all he knew of Cavasa Island and its two towns and theirinhabitants. After that, Dave sent a letter to both of the towns, askingif there were any persons there by the name of Porter, or if anyEnglish-speaking person had lost a child years ago, but so far no answerhad been received.
Of course, Phil wanted to know why Dave was so anxious to learn abouthis proposed trip, and, in the end, the poorhouse boy told his story, towhich his chum listened with interest.
"Phil, what would you say if I wanted to go with you on that trip toCavasa Island?" Dave had said, after his sto
ry was finished.
"Do you really mean it, Dave?" had been the return question, and Phil'sface had shown his astonishment.
"I do--if matters turn out as I think they may."
"That is, if that old sailor gets around so that he can tell a prettystraight story?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'd like your company, first-rate. But--" Phil drew a deepbreath--"I'd hate to see you go on a wild-goose chase. Think oftraveling thousands of miles and then being disappointed at the end ofthe trip. That old sailor may simply be crazy."
"I don't think so. Why should he mention a lost child--a boy?"
"Well, that is the only thing that makes it look as if there wassomething in the story. But couldn't I do the looking for you?"
"No, I'd prefer to do that myself. Besides, you must remember, thatsailor did not come directly from Cavasa Island to this country. So,whoever was on the island--I mean the person I may be interested in--mayhave gone elsewhere--in which case I should want to follow him."
"I see. Well, Dave, do what you think is best, and may good luck go withyou!" Phil had said; and there the conversation on the subject had cometo a close.
It was not until a week later that Dave had called on Billy Dillagain--to find the old tar sitting on a porch of the sanitarium, smokinghis pipe contentedly.
"On deck again, my hearty!" had been the greeting. "Give us yourflipper," and a warm handshake had followed.
But the visit had been productive of little good. Billy Dill couldremember nothing clearly, excepting that he knew a man who looked verymuch like Dave, and that that man had been his friend while he wasstranded on Cavasa Island and looking for a chance to ship. He said hecould recall a bark named the _Mary Sacord_ and a crazy nurse calledPolly, but that was all.
"I had a picter o' that man once--the feller that looks like you," hesaid. "But I dunno what's become o' it," and then he had scratched hishead and gone off into a rambling mumble that meant nothing at all. AndDave had gone back to Oak Hall more mystified than ever.