The Motor Boat Club at Nantucket Part 10

"I wonder," ventured Jed Prentiss, after they had driven some distance along the road, "whether you think your Spanish-looking party had anything to do with Ted Dunstan's being missing?"

Tom laughed good-naturedly, but made no reply, thinking that the easiest way of turning off the question.

"Say," broke in Jed again after a while, "I wish you could get me a job aboard the 'Meteor.'"

"What kind of a job?" inquired the young captain.

"Why, I'm generally handy aboard a boat. Been out on fishing craft a good deal. The job I struck Mr. Dunstan for, some weeks ago, was that of steward. You see, I'm a pretty fair sea cook, too. But Mr. Dunstan said he didn't need a steward or a cook aboard. I wonder if he'd change his mind."

"He might," replied Tom.

"Do you think you'd like to have me aboard?"

"From what I've seen of you, Jed, I think I would," replied Tom Halstead heartily. "At any rate, I'll speak to Mr. Dunstan about you."

"Will you, though?" cried Jed delightedly. "Say, I'd give my head-no, but the hair off the top of my head-to go cruising about on the 'Meteor.' It must be a king's life."

"It is," Tom a.s.sented.

Then, for some time, the two boys were silent But at last Tom Halstead, after some intense thinking, burst out almost explosively:

"Machinery? Great Scott!"

"Er-eh?" queried Jed, looking at him in surprise.

"Oh, nothing," returned the young skipper evasively. "Just forget that you heard me say anything, will you?"

"Sure," nodded Jed obligingly. Soon after, they drove into the quaint little old seaport, summer-resort town, Nantucket. Tom's glance alighted on a bicycle shop, still open. Thanking Jed heartily for the lift, Halstead hurried into the shop. He succeeded in renting a bicycle, agreeing that it should be returned in the morning. Then, after some inquiries as to the road, Tom set out, pedaling swiftly.

He got off the road once, but in the end found the Dunstan place all right. At the gateway to the grounds Halstead dismounted. For a few moments he stood looking up at the house, only a part of which was lighted.

"Machinery?" repeated the young skipper to himself, for the twentieth time. "Machinery? Eh? Oh, but we want to know all about that, and, what's more, we've got to know. Machinery! It pieces in with some other facts that have come out to-day."

Then mindful of the fact that the news he bore was, or should be, of great importance to the distracted master of the house beyond, Tom Halstead, instead of remounting, pushed his wheel along as he walked briskly up the driveway.

"Machinery!" he muttered once more under his breath. He could not rid himself of the magic of that word.

Yet it was a huge pity that the young motor boat captain could not have possessed sharp enough vision to see into the heart of a dense clump of lilac bushes that bordered the driveway. Had his vision been that keen he would have seen his very Spaniard crouched low in the clump.

That worthy saw the boy and watched him with baleful, gleaming eyes. It was a look that boded no good to the young skipper.

"You are too wise, young _gringo_, and, besides, you have struck me down," growled Alvarez. "But we shall take care of you. You shall do no more harm!"

CHAPTER VII-"THE QUICKEST WAY OF WALKING THE PLANK"

It was Tuesday when Ted Dunstan disappeared. Now, Sat.u.r.day had arrived.

On Monday the heir must appear, with his father, in the probate court, or the great fortune would be forever lost to the young man.

The days from Tuesday to Sat.u.r.day had been full of suspense and torment to those most interested. Horace Dunstan had lost his easy-going air. He started at the slightest sound; he hurried up whenever he heard others talking. Every new sound gave him hope that his son was about to appear in the flesh.

Far from slow had the search been. Mr. Dunstan's messages had brought a score of detectives to the scene. Some of these, aided by the local constables, had scoured the island of Nantucket unavailingly. The greater number of the detectives, however, had operated on the mainland, their operations extending even to Boston and New York.

Yet not a sign of the missing boy had been found. There was not a single clew to his fate, beyond the little that Tom Halstead and Joe Dawson had been able to tell concerning Alvarez and the florid-faced American.

Halstead's notion about Farmer Sanderson's "machinery" had crystallized into the belief that the cases of "machinery" received by the farmer were in reality cases of arms and ammunition, intended to be shipped to aid some new revolution in Honduras. Alvarez and the florid-faced man, the latter undoubtedly a seafaring man, might justly be suspected of being employed in some scheme to smuggle military supplies to Honduras.

Tom had read in the newspapers, more than once, that filibusters sending military supplies to Central American republics label their cases of goods "machinery" in order to get past vigilant eyes unsuspected.

Gregory Dunstan was known to be interested in revolutionary movements, and Farmer Sanderson might be suspected of helping Alvarez and other filibusters by having arms and ammunition shipped to him as machinery, and afterwards slipped out of the country from the end of the farmer's pier on some dark, stormy night. Moreover, Gregory Dunstan and his friends were the sole ones who could be interested in having Master Ted vanish at such a time. All parts of the theory fitted nicely together, Tom thought, and Horace Dunstan agreed with him.

Yet anything relating to attempts by filibusters to ship arms secretly to another country should be brought to the notice of the United States Government. So Mr. Dunstan wrote fully to the authorities at Washington, who, so far, had not taken the pains to reply to his communication.

During these days the "Meteor" had been almost constantly in service.

Tom and Joe felt nearly used up, so incessant had been their work. Jed Prentiss was now aboard, for, with detectives arriving and departing at all hours, there was frequently need of serving a visitor with a meal while the "Meteor" dashed over the waves to or from Nantucket. Jed was enjoying himself despite his long hours and hard work. He even found time to hang about Joe and learn much about the running of the motor.

By Sat.u.r.day noon Horace Dunstan, who seemed to have aged much, gave up the notion that his detectives could aid him at Nantucket. The last three on the island were sent over to Wood's Hole on the "Meteor," with instructions to help the men at work on the case on the mainland.

"Thank goodness, we're through with 'em," grunted Jed, leaving the galley and coming up through the engine room hatchway. "I hope we'll get a breathing spell to-morrow."

"We've had a brisk four days of it," nodded Tom. "I wouldn't mind that at all, if only we had gotten any nearer to finding Ted. But all this work and nothing gained is enough to wear a fellow out."

It was a part of Tom's nature that he felt keenly all of his employer's worries over the missing Ted, It worried Halstead, too, to think of any boy hopelessly losing such a huge fortune as was at stake.

"If only we could find Alvarez, and get a good grip on him," growled Halstead, as Joe came up on deck, "I'd feel almost warranted in torturing him until he told all he knew."

Joe nodded gravely, then suddenly grinned.

"I can imagine anyone as big-hearted as you are, Tom, putting any human being to the torture."

"I said I'd _almost_ be willing to" insisted Tom.

"Well, you won't find Alvarez, so what's the use of arguing?" asked Dawson, slowly. "He and his red-faced friend have skipped away from this part of the country, I believe."

"And Mr. Dunstan has only until Monday," sighed Halstead. "And Ted to lose millions! Did you ever hear of a case of such tough luck before?"

Jed began to whistle sympathetically. He, too, would have given worlds to be able to pounce upon the vanished Ted. For young Prentiss was all loyalty. Having entered the Dunstan employ, he felt all the sorrows of the family. The more he thought about the affair the more restless the whistling boy became.

"How long are we tied up here for?" demanded Jed, at last.

"Until the late afternoon train gets in from Boston," Tom answered, listlessly. "Mr. Dunstan is expecting Mr. Crane, his lawyer, along. If Mr. Crane doesn't arrive we've got to come over again to-morrow morning."

Jed glanced at the clock before the steering wheel.

"Hours to wait," he went on, dismally. "Well, I'm going ash.o.r.e to stretch my legs, if there's no objection."