CHAPTER XIX. THE LOSS OF THE VIKING
Squire Brackett was for once in rare good humour, as he came down to thebreakfast-table on Saturday morning. He was beaming like a harvest moon,and a look of satisfaction overspread his heavy face. He even smiledaffably on his son Harry, and was, withal, so pleased with himself, andso off his guard, that his son took advantage of the opportunity to askhim for ten dollars--and got it. By the time Squire Brackett had repentedof his generosity, young Harry had disappeared.
"The scamp!" reflected the squire. "Smart enough to see something is up,wasn't he? Well, I reckon I'm glad of it. He comes by his smartnesshonestly, I vow. I wonder how the wind is."
He was, indeed, a bit apprehensive on this score, for he was a badsailor. He had, moreover, a vivid recollection of the last time he wentthreshing down the bay in Captain Sam's _Nancy Jane_, and of how sick andfrightened he was.
"However," he thought, "I guess I can stand it." And he added, chuckling,"It will be worth my while, or my name isn't Brackett."
Mrs. Brackett was perplexed. She couldn't, for the life of her,understand what had come over the squire, to induce him to venture forthon a yachting trip.
"Why, you just hate the water--you know you do, James," she exclaimed, asthe squire was bustling about, getting out his greatcoat and preparingotherwise for his departure. "You said, a year ago, when you got backfrom that chase after those boys, that you'd had enough sailing to lastyou the rest of your life. And I don't see why you don't use your ownboat. Here you've been talking about selling her for the last threeyears, because every time you go out in her you're dreadfully sick. You'dbetter get some use out of that boat while you have it."
"Well! well!" responded Squire Brackett, somewhat impatiently. "This is abusiness trip. You can't understand, because it's business--importantbusiness. I guess I know my affairs, or I wouldn't be the richest man onGrand Island. You just get that lunch ready, so I can start before thewind grows any stronger."
Mrs. Brackett complied, obediently, but wondering.
"Morning! morning! Nice day, my lads," said the squire with unwontedcordiality, some minutes later, as he appeared alongside the _Viking_,accompanied by John Hart and Ed Sanders, who were to constitute his crew.
"Good morning, squire," responded the yachtsmen, catching the painter ofhis boat and making it fast. "You're going to have a glorious day tostart off in."
"Think so?" queried the squire. "Not going to blow much, eh?"
"Not this morning, by the looks," replied Henry Burns; "just a nicelittle easy southerly that will take you up to the head of the island infine style. Then all you've got to do is to beat down the western side, amile or so, and you can stand right over to Mayville without touching asheet--isn't that so, Captain Hart?"
John Hart, having the prevailing contempt of the born and bred fishermanfor the amateur sailor, grunted a curt affirmative.
"Well, take good care of the _Viking_," said Harvey, as the squire's crewcast loose from the mooring and stood away, leaving the boys in theirtender astern.
"We'll do that," replied the squire, assuringly. "And if we don't, why,you've got it in black and white that I'll make it good to you. Abargain's a bargain. That's my principle."
The _Viking_, under a gentle breeze, was soon out of the harbour, clearof the bluff, and was running up alongshore. Jack Harvey and Henry Burnsrowed ashore, to the tent, where Tom and Bob were awaiting them.Something that Henry Burns and Harvey confided to them, as they sattogether on the point, sent the campers off into roars of laughter.
"Oh, but I'd give my shoes to see the squire when he finds thatlobster-claw--if that's what he's after," cried Tom, punching Henry Burnsin an ecstasy of mirth. "Do you suppose that's really what he's hired herfor, though?"
"Don't know," replied Henry Burns, solemnly. "No; Squire Brackettwouldn't do anything like that."
"Well, let's go up to the store and see how we stand," suggested Harvey."Come on, fellows. You're interested in this."
"How much do you think we have earned, Jack?" asked Henry Burns, as theywalked up the street toward Rob Dakin's store.
"Oh, more than two hundred dollars--quite a little more, before takingout expenses," replied Harvey.
"Yes; nearer three hundred, counting Tom's and Bob's share, I think,"said Henry Burns.
"Well, that's reckoning in the fifty dollars we found in the cabin, isn'tit?" asked Harvey.
"Yes, I guess it is," said his companion. "It remains to be seen, ofcourse, whether we can keep that or not. We'll ask Rob Dakin what hethinks about that."
"Well, I'll tell you what I think about it," said Rob Dakin, some minuteslater, after the boys had seated themselves in his store. "You say youfound that piece of a bill in a locker in the cabin of your boat. Nowthere are two things to consider about that:
"In the first place, if the owner of the boat--supposing she wasstolen--put that money in there, and he should turn up and claim themoney, why, you might have to give it up. Of course the boat was takenover by the sheriff and sold, according to law; and if the owner claimedthe boat I reckon he'd have to pay Mrs. Newcome what it cost her. Butnobody has ever claimed her, and there isn't really any danger of that.So far as that goes, the money seems to be yours.
"Now, in the second place, the men that had this boat, and who were sentto prison, might have had this money. Well, if it was their own money,why, the State would take it and keep it and restore it to them afterthey are set free. If it was stolen money, and the owner couldn't befound, I can't just say whether you could keep it or whether it wouldbelong to the State. I'm not quite lawyer enough for that. But if theyshould deny knowing anything about it, why, I reckon it would belong toyou, as you found it aboard your own boat."
"Well, we will figure it in, anyway," said Henry Burns.
So, at their request to draw them up a statement of their affairs, real"shipshape," as Henry Burns expressed it, Rob Dakin set to work and,after some minutes' figuring, produced a sheet at which they gazed withpride and satisfaction. It was as follows:
LEDGER OF THE VIKING--FISHING SLOOP _Earnings_
1st trip to Loon Island $18.002d trip to Loon Island 22.003d trip to Loon Island 35.00Lobsters--apart from crew 45.00Big mackerel catch 80.00Other mackerel 30.00Other fishing 15.00Paid by the Squire 25.00Found in the cabin 50.00 ------Total earnings $320.00
_Expenses_
Tom's and Bob's share first three trips $25.00Tom's and Bob's share mackerel 36.66Tom's and Bob's share other fish 5.00Bait purchased 9.50Anchor 5.00Extra rigging 15.00Hooks and lines 10.00Provisions 25.00Hire of tender 10.00Paid Captain Sam for labour 11.50Incidentals 13.50 ------Total expenses $166.16 ------ Balance $153.84Henry Burns's share 76.92Jack Harvey's share 76.92
"Hooray!" cried Harvey, waving the paper, triumphantly. "I wonder what myda
d would say to that. I'll bet he'd be pleased. That's the first money Iever earned."
"Well, why don't you write him about it?" suggested Henry Burns, with awink at Tom. "You're feeling pretty strong after the summer's sailing."
"Say, I never thought of that," exclaimed Harvey. "I'll do it--that is,I'll do it some day--say--well, some rainy day when I've nothing else todo."
"You like to write letters about as well as I do," said Henry Burns,laughing. "But I'll tell you what I'll do. You write to your father, andI'll write and tell old Mrs. Newcome what we've done this summer with theboat. She'd be pleased to know about it."
"All right," said Harvey. "It's a bargain--that is, some day when it'sraining good and hard and nothing else to do. Perhaps you'll let me readyour letter over first. It will sort of give me an idea what to say."
"We're much obliged to you, Mr. Dakin," said Henry Burns, as they leftthe store. "You keep the money for us till we go home. We'll want a fewmore provisions, too."
"Oh, you're welcome," responded Rob Dakin, good-naturedly. "You're goodcustomers, and I'm glad to oblige you. I hope you can keep that fiftydollars."
And, to look ahead a little, they did keep it. Some days later, Mr.Warren, who had been communicated with at Benton, and who had looked intothe matter, wrote them a letter that contained good news. It was, simply,that the men in prison, questioned regarding it, had denied flatlyknowing anything about a secret drawer or hiding-place anywhere aboardthe _Viking_. Perhaps they had their own good reasons for doing this.Perhaps it was, that they feared the consequences of the disclosure.Perhaps the money had really been stolen and concealed there by them.Perhaps they feared their admission of such a hiding-place would put themat the mercy of the authorities--who might have unearthed more about itthan had been told--and that it might convict them of still anothercrime.
Whatever their reason, it was known to them alone. But their denial leftthe money to the finders.
To return, however, to the day of their reckoning, the yachtsmen, in highspirits, invaded the Warren cottage; and, later, the party, augmented bythe three brothers, travelled down to the camp of Harvey's crew, wherethey held carnival till late into the night.
Squire Brackett's adventures throughout the day had been, on the whole,rather more exciting than those of the campers and the yachtsmen. Thesquire had gone aboard the _Viking_ with mingled feelings of exultationand misgiving. But, as he had looked abroad over the surface of the bay,his courage had been restored somewhat, for there were no waves of anysize discernible to his eyes, and the wind was still light.
He seated himself nervously near the stern, where John Hart was holdingthe wheel, while Ed Sanders managed the jib-sheets. The jibs soon ceasedto draw, however, as they were beginning to run squarely before the wind;so Ed Sanders contented himself with hauling up the centreboard, and thenbetook himself to the cabin, for a nap.
This was a sad blow to the squire. He was fairly consumed with eagernessto go below and hunt about in the cabin, undisturbed, and withoutattracting attention. But he couldn't do it while Ed Sanders remainedawake. So he was constrained to sit out in the sun, and listen to JohnHart's explanations of the art of sailing--which didn't interest thesquire at all--and hope for slumber on the part of Ed Sanders.
Finally there came a welcome sound to his ears, a hearty snore from thecabin.
"I declare, that makes me sleepy, too," said Squire Brackett, simulatinga yawn and stretching his arms above his head. "I believe I'll go belowfor a few moments, myself, and see if I can't get a nap. It's hot, thismorning."
The morning was, in fact, unusually sultry for September, and the windshowed no signs of increasing and cooling the air.
"Well," replied John Hart, "this is a good morning to sleep, but I don'tknow as I would go below if I were you, squire. You know, if a man hasany tendency to be squeamish, that is apt to send him off."
"Yes, I know," answered the squire; "but it seems so nice and still thatI think it won't disturb me. I'll just drop off to sleep as easy as akitten."
He accordingly descended the companion, looked sharply at Ed Sanders, tosatisfy himself that he was sound asleep, and went to the forward end ofthe cabin.
"Let's see," he muttered, "I wonder if the 'third starboard locker' meansthe third from the stern or the third from the bow."
The squire began opening the lockers along the starboard side, at random,and peering inside.
"We'll see what sort of an equipment these youngsters have left us," heexclaimed, aloud.
But, just at this moment, the squire felt a queer sensation, like astrange, quick spasm of dizziness, accompanied by a slight shiver. It wasgone the next moment.
"Nonsense!" he exclaimed to himself. "Funny how a man's imagination worksin a cubby-hole like this. I almost thought I was dizzy for a moment.Confound that John Hart! I wish he hadn't said anything about beingseasick. Of course a man can't be seasick on a quiet day like this.Pooh!"
The squire perhaps had not taken into account, as had John Hart, that,whereas the sea was not ruffled by any chop-sea or breakers, there wasstill an exceedingly long, almost imperceptible undulation of the bay; amoderate but continuous heaving of the ground-swell, that swayed the boatgently from beam to beam or rocked it slowly from stem to stern. Thesquire did not realize that it was this that had set his brainmomentarily awhirl.
Like many another sailorman, John Hart, having given his advice andfinding it disregarded, considered it no longer his business whether thesquire fared well or ill. Likewise, he did not see fit to warn him of thenear approach of a big tramp steamer that was on its way, a littlefarther out in the bay, to Benton, to load with spool-wood.
The big tramp was making time, with black smoke pouring out of its twofunnels; and, as it went along, it sent a heavy cross-sea rolling awayfrom its bows and stern.
A few moments later, just as the squire had opened the lower drawerbeneath the third locker from the starboard end of the yacht, somethingextraordinary happened to him. His feet were suddenly knocked from underhim. At the same time, it seemed as though the cabin roof had fallendown; for the squire's head came in violent contact with it. Likewise, itseemed as though the yacht was standing on its bowsprit and kicking itsstern into the air; and, likewise, as though it were performing, at thevery same instant, as violent a series of antics as the craziest broncothat ever tried to buck its rider.
The immediate result was, that Squire Brackett first bumped his headagainst the roof of the cabin. Then he fell over sidewise and hit acorner of the centreboard box. Finally, he found himself lying on thecabin floor, rolling about in highly undignified and uncomfortablefashion.
But, saddest to relate, when he had in a measure recovered from hisamazement and endeavoured to pick himself up from the floor, his head wasswimming round and round like a humming-top. Poor Squire Brackett was,indeed, as addle-brained as a sailor that has had a day's shore leave andhas spent it among the grog-shops. With a groan of anguish, herelinquished all hope of treasure-hunting and crawled upon one of theberths, where he lay helpless, and muttering maledictions on the head ofJohn Hart for not warning him of what was coming.
"Hello, what's the matter?" cried Ed Sanders, sitting up and addressingthe squire, whose sudden downfall had awakened him.
"The matter!" roared the squire, in a burst of energy andindignation--"the matter is, that you were down here sleeping like amummy instead of attending to business on deck. Here's a sea hit us andnearly turned the yacht upside down, and my neck nearly broken."
"Ho, we're all right," said Ed Sanders, intending to be reassuring. "Justa little swash from a steamer, I guess. She's rocking a little, but thereain't any harm in it."
The squire was so unutterably disgusted that he couldn't find words toreply. What could he say to a man that assured him he was all right whenhe was beginning to feel the qualms of seasickness? There were no wordsin the language to do the occasion justice.
Nor was he mollified or comforted by the appearance, the next moment, of
John Hart at the companionway, also declaring that really nothing hadhappened--nothing of any consequence--and that he would be feeling asfine as an admiral in a few minutes.
The squire tried to reply, but could only choke and sputter.
"Nothing of any consequence, eh?" he groaned. "Oh, my head! O-h-h! If Idie I hope they'll indict John Hart for murder, and hang Ed Sanders forcriminal negligence. Nothing of any consequence--but I know I'll neverlive to see the end of this voyage."
The squire's agitation was not abated with the rounding of the head ofthe island; for, with this, what slight sea was running was soonbroadside on, so that it rolled the _Viking_ from side to side--notroughly, but enough to cause him untold misery.
Finally, at John Hart's solicitation, he was induced to return to theouter air, where he sat, wrapped up in two heavy blankets, shivering, andwith his teeth chattering, although the day was exceedingly hot.
When, at the close of the afternoon, they had arrived at Mayville, thesquire had had enough yachting. He staggered ashore and took a carriageto the hotel, rather than spend the night aboard the _Viking_.
"Well, sir," said John Hart, some time the next forenoon, when thesquire, improved in appearance and temper, had come down to the dock,"when do you expect that yachting party to arrive?"
"What yacht--" began the squire. He had forgotten for the moment thealleged object of the trip to Mayville. "Oh, you mean my party?" he said."Why, they won't be here until night. I won't need you two at all to-day.You can have the day off. Here's fifty cents to buy both of you yourdinners. You needn't come back until night."
"Well," said Ed Sanders as he and John Hart departed from the dock andwent on up the main street of Mayville, "I thought the squire wasn't hurtmuch by that bump he got yesterday in the cabin, but I declare if I don'tthink it injured his brain. Did you ever know of his giving anybody fiftycents before?"
"No, never did," answered John Hart; "but if getting seasick has thateffect on him, we'll make him sick every time he goes out. Next southerlywe get, with the tide running out, we'll sail into the worst chop-sea wecan find and give him a dollar's worth."
Squire Brackett, however, watched them disappear with a satisfactionequal to theirs. He rubbed his hands like a money-changer, and steppedfrom the wharf aboard the _Viking_ with the assurance of a buccaneer. Healmost imagined he was a sailor when a man on the wharf accosted him.
"Fine boat you've got there," said the stranger--evidently from the city.
"She's pretty good, if I do say it," replied Squire Brackett, swellingout his chest and looking nautical.
"Looks as though she might carry sail some," continued the stranger,admiringly.
"Ha!" exclaimed the squire. "The harder it blows the better we like it.My men say to me, time and time again, 'Most too much wind, CaptainBrackett; better reef, hadn't we?' 'Not much,' is what I say. 'Let atopsail go if it wants to. I'll buy another when that's gone. Keep herdown to her work. She'll stand it.' What's the use of having a good boatif you keep her in a glass case, eh, sir?"
"Well, I suppose that's so," replied the stranger, much impressed. "Butyou've got to have the nerve to do it."
"It's nothing when you're accustomed to it," said Squire Brackett, takinga nautical survey of the sky, and rolling toward the companionway like anold salt.
Before he began operations, however, he returned on deck, took thebow-line and drew the yacht close in to the pier, stepped off and castloose the end of the line where it was made fast to a spiling. There wasanother line out astern, to which an anchor was attached, and which hadbeen dropped at some distance from the boat. This was to keep the yachtfrom getting in too snug to the pier and scraping the paint from itssides. The squire took hold of this rope and drew the yacht out fartherfrom the pier, so that no one could step aboard from there.
Thus safe from interruption, he again went below and sprang breathlesslyto the drawer.
"Here's the third starboard locker from the bow," he muttered. "'Money isstill aboard yacht,' eh? Ha! ha! I'll show 'em a thing or two. He didn'tintend to buy my land--the rascal. Well, I'll get his treasure. They willrun down my sailboat, will they? Well, I'll pull a prize out of their ownboat. They're a smart lot, the whole of them; but I'll show 'em who'ssmarter."
Squire Brackett's hand shook with excitement as he drew out the largedrawer.
He looked into it earnestly, but there was clearly nothing of value init, nor anything queer in its construction. He opened the door to thelocker, and pounded on the bottom of that.
"There's nothing odd about that, so far as I can see," he exclaimed."Well, it's in behind there. That's where it is. I'll just get a lightand take a look."
The squire hurried to the provision locker, rummaged therein, and foundthe stub of a candle. He nearly burned his fingers in lighting it, sowrought up was he.
Returning to the opening whence he had withdrawn the drawer, he got downon his hands and knees and peered within. The candle-light flickered onthe little drawer that fitted snugly to the under side of the locker'sbottom. The squire felt a queer, almost choking sensation come over him.He thought of the jewel robbery of the year before, up at Benton. Hethought of the men that had had the _Viking_. The possibilities of hisfind swept through his excited brain, till the fancy fired hisimagination beyond his hitherto wildest dreams.
In a delirium of expectation, and breathing short and quick like a manthat has run a race, the squire snatched at the tiny knob, grasped thelittle drawer with eager hands, drew it forth, and rushed with it to thecabin door.
For one brief, ecstatic moment he paused exultantly. Then a strange,remarkable change came over him and he stood like a man stiff frozen. Thelook of anguish, of rage, of disappointment, of amazement that distortedhis features was like that which an ingenious South Sea Islander mightgive to an image he had carved out of a very knotty and cross-grainedjunk of wood.
He held the drawer out at arm's length, as though he was demanding thatsome imaginary person should look and behold the contents. And thecontents, that the squire's own eyes rested upon, were indeed not silvernor gold nor precious jewels, nor even the tawdriest trinkets, but--ofall abominations--Henry Burns's lobster-claw!
A moment later, the squire uttering an exclamation that shall not berecorded here, lifted the drawer above his head, hurled it down upon thefloor, and crushed it with his heel. Once, twice, thrice he stamped uponit, shattering it to pieces, and crunching the lobster-claw into ashapeless mass. And then--why then, all at once, it flashed into his mindthat he had, in his fury, done precisely the wrong thing; the very thinghe should not have done.
If any one had put that claw in there for him to find, why, of course,they would look for it when the _Viking_ was returned. It was bad enoughto be cheated, defrauded, robbed--thought the squire. But to know thatHenry Burns and Jack Harvey and all the rest of the scamps would look forthat drawer, and find it missing, and laugh themselves sick to think ofhis discomfiture, why, that was not to be thought of.
Squire Brackett stooped down and gathered up the pieces of the shattereddrawer. Fortunately, they were of common pine, and were mostly wrenchedapart where they had been nailed together. The squire hunted for hammerand nails in the yachtsmen's stores, and hammered the drawer together asbest it would go. He cast loose the line astern and pushed the yacht into the pier again. Then he hunted around, outside of a boat-shop near by,till he found, a small piece of wood that would do, with proper shaping,to supply one of the parts he had broken.
Altogether, with his clumsiness in the matter of reconstruction, thesquire consumed the rest of the morning repairing the drawer he hadwrecked.
Then, when he had finished his work, he strode away up the street andmade a purchase. The purchase was a fine, big boiled lobster--just ashade redder than the squire's face as he paid for it. But, having paidfor it, he took it back to the yacht and ate it for his dinner--all butone claw. That claw he wished to save. He was so careful of it, indeed,that he put it away in a certain secret drawer under
the third locker onthe starboard side.
"No, they're not coming," he said, that evening, to John Hart and EdSanders, on their return. "Too bad. Got a telegram saying they can'tcome. The sailing party's given up. Shame, isn't it? However, I've gotsome business I'm going to attend to before I go home. We'll stay theweek out. Your pay goes on just the same. So you needn't say anything tothe boys about my not using their yacht. They might think they got ashade the best of me. It's all right, though. I can make use of thetime."
The squire, in truth, was too ashamed to return so suddenly. He spent theweek in Mayville; and of all miserable weeks in his existence, that weekwas the most dismal of any.
Saturday came, and it was a day of fitful weather. Part of the day itrained. Then there were signs of clearing, with the wind sharp andsqually from the west. They waited till mid-afternoon, and then theweather improving a little, the squire gave the order to start. Hedreaded the sail, but he would wait no longer. They went across the bayunder two reefs, and the squire's hair stood on end all the way.
It was shortly after supper, and Henry Burns and Jack Harvey sat withtheir friends, the Warren boys, on the veranda of the Warren cottage. Thewind was still high, and now and then there came a brief rain-squall.
"I wonder if the _Viking_ will be in," said George Warren.
"Possibly," replied Harvey; "but, if she isn't, we'll give the squireanother day. It's stiff wind for him to sail in. What worries me, iswhether the crew are all right or not. They've been gone a week almost,and they're way down 'round Stoneland somewhere."
"Oh, they are all right," said Henry Burns.
And yet, if Henry Burns could have seen the position of the good yacht_Surprise_, at that precise moment, he might not have thought she wasexactly all right. For the yacht _Surprise_ was hung up on a sand-bar,some ten miles below Stoneland, among the islands; and the crew hadalready worked an hour, in vain attempts to get her off.
There came a driving squall of wind and rain, presently, and the boyswent inside.
"The _Viking_ won't be in to-night, I guess, after all," said Harvey.
Then, as it grew dark, they busied themselves till they were taken all bysurprise by a knock at the door. There stood Ed Sanders, his clothesdripping.
"We're in," he said. "The squire sent me up to tell you. He's gone home.The _Viking's_ fast at her mooring, and all right. Come out and you cansee her lantern that I set at the foremast. She don't need a light, safein the harbour here, but I thought you might like to see it and know sheis there."
"We'll go down right away," said Henry Burns. "Much obliged to you."
"No, you won't," cried George Warren. "You don't stir out of this houseto-night. You're going to stay with us. The boat is all right."
They stepped to the door and looked out upon the bay. It was clearing,but it was not pleasant. Everything was soaked with the rain, and thewind was blowing.
"What do you say, Jack?"
"Oh, I think we might as well stay," answered Harvey.
So they stayed. And they slept soundly, too, with the night-breezewhistling past their window. But it is certain they would not have sleptsoundly, nor slept at all, if they had but known of a certain letter thatyoung Harry Brackett had written and sent to Bellport, three days before,and of the significance it had to the man who received it.
It was about six o'clock the next morning that Jack Harvey, stillsleeping soundly, was rudely awakened. Henry Burns was shaking himviolently.
"Jack, wake up!" cried Henry Burns. "Wake up and get your clothes on.There's something the matter. The _Viking's_ gone. Yes, she's really goneout of the harbour; for I've been clear down to the shore to see. Itisn't any joke. Hurry up. I'll get the fellows out."
A few moments later, Henry Burns, followed by Harvey and the three Warrenboys, was running for the shore.