CHAPTER VIII
BLAKE LEARNS A SECRET
Blake, looking on from a little distance, saw Joe turn aside from theaged man.
"That's rather queer," thought the lad. "If that was his father it isn'ta very cordial welcome."
As he looked, he saw Joe walking out of the garden.
"Queerer still," Blake mused. "Even if that isn't Mr. Duncan, he must besomewhere around, for lighthouse keepers can't be very far away fromtheir station, as I understand it."
Joe came walking toward his chum. His face showed his disappointment sounmistakably that Blake called out:
"What's the matter, Joe?"
"He's gone--he isn't here! He never got my letter!"
"Where has he gone?" asked Blake, always practical.
"I--I don't know. I didn't ask."
"Look here, Joe!" exclaimed his chum. "I guess you're too excited overthis. You let me make some inquiries for you. Suppose he has gone? Wemay be able to trace him. Men in the lighthouse service get transferredfrom one place to another just as soldiers do, I imagine. Now you sitdown here and look at the sad sea waves, as C. C. would say if he werehere, and I'll go tackle that lighthouse keeper. You were too flusteredto get any clues, I expect."
"I guess I was," admitted Joe. "When I found he wasn't there I didn'tknow what to do. I didn't feel like asking any questions."
Blake placed his arm around his chum's shoulder, patted him on the back,and started toward the aged man, who was still leaning on his hoe,looking in mild surprise at the two lads.
"I'll find out all about it," called back Blake.
"Ha! Another boy!" exclaimed Mr. Stanton, as Blake approached. "I didn'tknow this was going to be visiting day, or I might have put on my othersuit," and he laughed genially. "Are you another son of Mr. Duncan?" heasked.
"No," replied Blake. "I'm Joe's chum. We're in the moving picturebusiness together. But he says his father has left, and, as he naturallyfeels badly, I thought I'd make some inquiries for him, so we canlocate him. Do you know where Mr. Duncan went?"
"No--I can't say that I do," was the slow answer. "And so you are chums;eh?"
"Yes, and we have been for some years."
"That's nice. You tell each other all your secrets, I suppose?"
"Well, most of 'em."
"Never hold anything back?"
"Why, what do you mean?" asked Blake, for there seemed to be a strangemeaning in the old man's voice.
"I mean, lad," and the lighthouse keeper's tones sank to a whisper; "Imean, if I tell you something, can you keep it from him?"
"Why--yes--I suppose so," spoke Blake, wonderingly. "But what is thematter? Isn't his father here?"
"No, he's gone, just as I told him. But look here--he seems a nice sortof lad, and I didn't want to hurt his feelings. I'd rather tell you, aslong as you're his chum, and if you can keep a secret."
He looked to where Joe was sitting on the rocks, watching the waves rolllazily up the beach and break. Joe was far enough off so that thelow-voiced conversation could not reach him.
"I can keep a secret if I have to," replied Blake. "But what is it allabout? Is Mr. Duncan--is he--dead?"
The old man hesitated, and, for a moment, Blake thought that his guesswas correct. Then the aged man said slowly:
"No, my boy, he isn't dead; but maybe, for the sake of his son, he hadbetter be. At any rate, it's better, all around, that he's away fromhere."
"Why?" asked Blake quickly. "Tell me what you mean!"
"That I will, lad, and maybe you can figure a way out of the puzzle. I'man old man, and not as smart as I was, so my brain doesn't work quickly.Maybe you can find a way out. Come inside where we can talk so he won'thear us," and he nodded toward the quiet figure of Joe on the beach.
Blake wondered more than ever what the disclosure might be. He followedthe aged man into the living quarters of the house attached to the lighttower.
"Sit ye there, lad," went on Mr. Stanton, "and I'll tell you all aboutit. Maybe you can find a way out."
He paused, as if to gather his thoughts, and then resumed:
"You see I'm pretty old, and I have to have an assistant at this light.I expect soon I'll have to give up altogether. But I'm going to hang onas long as I can. I've had three assistants in the last year, and one of'em, as you know now, was Nathaniel Duncan, Joe's father. Before him Ihad a likely young fellow named--ah, well, I've forgotten, and the namedoesn't matter much anyhow. But when he left the board sent me thisDuncan, and I must say I liked him right well."
"What sort of a man was he?" asked Blake.
"A nice sort of man. He was about middle aged, tall, well built, andstrong as a horse. He looked as if he had had trouble, though, andgradually he told me his story. His wife had died when his boy and girlwere young----"
"Girl! Was there a girl?" cried Blake. "Has Joe a sister, too?"
"He had--whether he has yet, I don't know," went on Mr. Stanton. "I'lltell you all I know.
"As I said, Nate Duncan seemed to have had lots of sorrow, and he toldme how, after his wife died, he had placed the boy and girl in charge ofsome people, and gone off to the California mines to make some money.When he come back, rich, the children had disappeared, and so had thepeople he left 'em with. He never could locate 'em, though he triedhard, and so did his half-brother, Bill. But Bill was different fromNate, so I understand. Bill was a reckless sort of chap, while Joe'sfather was quite steady."
"That's right," spoke Blake, and then he related how Joe had come to geta trace of his father.
"Well," resumed Mr. Stanton, "as I said, Duncan came here, and he and Igot along well together. Then there came trouble."
"Trouble? What kind?" asked Joe.
"Trouble with wreckers, lad. The meanest and most wicked kind of troublethere can be on a seacoast. A band of bad men got together and by meansof false lights lured small vessels out of their course so they went onthe rocks. Then they got what they could when the cargo was washedashore."
"But what has that got to do with Joe's father?" asked Blake.
"Too much, I'm afraid, lad. It was said that the light here was allowedto go out some nights, so the false light would be more effective."
"Well?"
"Well, Nate Duncan had charge of the light at night after I went offduty. And it was always when I was off duty that the wrecks occurred."
"Do you mean to accuse Joe's father of being in with the wreckers?"
"No, lad. I don't accuse anybody; I'm too old a man to do anything likethat. But ugly stories began to be circulated. Government inspectorsbegan to call more often than they used to, inspecting my light--mylight, that I've tended nigh onto twenty-five years now. I began to hearrumors that my assistant wasn't altogether straight. He was said to beseen consorting with the wreckers, though it was hard to get proof thatthe men were wreckers, for they pretended to be fishermen.
"Then come a day when, with my own eyes, I saw Nate Duncan walking alongthe beach with one of the men who was said to be at the head of thewrecking gang. I could see that they were quarreling, and then Nateknocked the man down. He didn't get up right away, for, as I said, Natewas strong. I knew something would come of that, and I wasn't muchsurprised when that day Nate disappeared."
"Disappeared?" cried Blake.
"Went off completely, and left me alone at the light. I tended it allnight, same as I had done before, many a time, and the next day Ireported matters, and I had a new assistant--the same one I have now."
"But that doesn't prove anything," said Blake. "Just because Joe'sfather, and a man suspected of being a wrecker, had a quarrel, doesn'tsay that Mr. Duncan was a wrecker, too."
"There's more to it," went on the old man. "The day after Nate Duncandisappeared detectives came here looking for him."
Blake started. There was more to the story than he had suspected. Helooked at Mr. Stanton, and glanced out of the window to where Joe stillsat.
"So that's why I say maybe it would be better for Joe if his fath
er wasdead," went on Mr. Stanton. "Disgrace is a terrible thing, and Icouldn't bear to tell Joe, when he asked me about his father."
"But where did he go?" asked Blake. "Didn't he leave any trace at all?"
"Not a trace, lad--folks most generally doesn't when the detectives areafter 'em. Hold on, though, I won't say Nate was guilty on my own hook.I'm only telling you what happened. I'd hate to believe he was awrecker, misusing this light to draw vessels on the dangerous rocks; butit looks black, it looks black."
"Did the detectives actually accuse Mr. Duncan?" asked Blake.
"Well, they as much as did. They said some of the wreckers had beenarrested, and had incriminated the assistant light-keeper. But Duncanwas smart enough--provided he was guilty--to skip out. As I told Joe,his father left just before the letter from Flagstaff came, so hedoesn't know his son is alive. Poor man, I'm sorry for him. He told mehow he had searched all over for his children, and at last, becomingtired and discouraged, he took this job just to have something to do,for he's well enough off not to have to work."
"And there's no way of telling where he went?" questioned Blake.
"Nary a one that I know of, lad. As I said, maybe he's better off lost."
"Not for Joe."
"Well, maybe not; but for himself. There are heavy penalties forwrecking, and it's well he wasn't caught, though, as I say, I don'taccuse him. Only it looks black, it looks black. If he was innocent whydidn't he stay and fight it out? Yes, lad, it looks black."
"I'm afraid so," sighed Blake. "How can I ever tell Joe the news?"
"You mustn't!" exclaimed the old man. "That's just it. You must not tellhim. I'd hate to destroy his faith in his father. It would be cruel.That's why I asked if you could keep a secret. You won't tell him; willyou?"
"No," said Blake, in a low voice; "I won't tell him."