The Motor Boat Club at Nantucket Part 3

A little faster and still a little faster the propeller shaft turned, until it settled down to good work. The "Meteor" was moving at about twelve miles an hour.

"Fine!" cried Mr. Dunstan joyously. "We're all right now."

"We're not yet quite out of the-well, I won't say woods, but sea woods,"

smiled Tom quietly.

"I'm forgetting my duty," cried Mr. Dunstan in sudden self-reproach. "I must act a bit as pilot until you know these waters better."

"Why, I studied the chart, sir, nearly all the way from Portland,"

replied Tom. "I think I am picking up the marks of the course all right."

"You can't see Nantucket from here, but can you point straight to it?"

inquired Mr. Dunstan.

"I'm heading straight along the usual course now," Tom replied.

"Right! You are. I guess you know your way from the chart, though you've never seen these waters before. Keep on. I won't interfere unless I see you going wrong."

"Shall I head straight on for the island?" asked Halstead. "Or would you rather keep close to the mainland until we see how the engine behaves?"

"Keep right on, captain, unless your judgment forbids."

Tom, therefore, after a brief talk with his chum through the open hatchway, held to his course, to the south of which lay the big island of Martha's Vineyard, now well populated by summer pleasure seekers.

Notch by notch Joe let out the speed, though he was too careful to be in a hurry about that. He wanted to study his machine until he knew it as he did the alphabet. Every fresh spurt pleased the owner greatly.

"Your Club has some great fellows in it if you two are specimens," said Mr. Dunstan delightedly. "Prescott knew what he was writing when he told me to stand by anything you wanted to do."

By the time when they had the Vineyard fairly south of them and the craft was going at more than a twenty-mile gait, Tom judged that he should inform the owner of the happening of the night before. He therefore called Joe up from the motor to take the wheel. Then Halstead told Mr. Dunstan what had taken place, exhibiting the fragment of cloth secured by Bouncer and connecting this, in theory, with the swarthy man they had seen aboard the train.

Bouncer, looking up in his master's face and whining, seemed anxious to confirm Tom Halstead's narration.

"Why, there's something about all this that will make it well for us all to keep our eyes open," said Mr. Dunstan.

Tom, watching the owner's face, felt that that gentleman had first looked somewhat alarmed, then much more annoyed.

"There's something that doesn't please him and I shouldn't think it would," the young captain reflected. "Yet, whatever it is he doesn't intend to tell me, just yet, at all events. I hope it's nothing in the way of big mischief that threatens."

"Of course I'd suggest, sir," Tom observed finally, "that Dawson and myself sleep aboard nights."

"You may as well," nodded the owner, and again Tom thought he saw a shadow of worriment in the other's eyes.

"Are you going to let Bouncer stay aboard, too, sir?" Tom asked.

"Ordinarily I think I'll let the dog sleep at the house nights," replied Mr. Dunstan, immediately after looking as though he were trying to dismiss some matter from his mind.

Joe, too, had been keen enough to scent the fact that, though Mr.

Dunstan tried to appear wholly at his ease, yet something was giving that gentleman a good deal of cause for thought. Mr. Dunstan even went aft, presently, seating himself in one of the armchairs and smoking two cigars in succession rather rapidly.

"We've put something into his mind that doesn't lie there easily,"

hinted Joe.

"But, of course, it's none of our business unless he chooses to tell us," replied Halstead.

A little later Joe Dawson went down into the engine room to get the best reasonable work out of the motor. Even at racing speed the "Meteor's"

bow wave was not a big one. There was almost an absence of spray dashing over the helmsman. Tom did not need to put on oilskins, as he had often done on the "Sunbeam." The "Meteor's" bow lines were so beautiful and graceful, so well adapted to an ideal racing craft, that the bridge deck in ordinary weather was not a wet place.

As they neared cool, wind-swept Nantucket, Mr. Dunstan came forward once more, to point out the direction of his own place. This lay on the west side of the island. As they ran in closer the owner pointed out the mouth of a cove.

"We've come over in two hours," announced Mr. Dunstan, consulting his watch as they neared the cove.

"Now that we understand the boat and the engine," answered Tom, "we ought to go over the course in less than an hour and a half."

"Fine!" p.r.o.nounced the owner. "That's what the boat was built for. Do that and I can make the trip to my Boston offices every week day-if I decide that it's best to do so."

Tom noted a certain hesitancy about those last few words. Again he felt sure that some mystery threatened the owner's peace of mind.

Into the cove and up alongside the pier the "Meteor" was run. From here large and handsome grounds and a huge white house, the latter well back from the water, were visible.

"We'll leave Bouncer on board for the present," said Mr. Dunstan. "I'll take you up to the house so you can get used to the place. By and by we'll have lunch. And I want to show you my boy, Ted."

CHAPTER III-THE LUCKIEST BOY IN THE WORLD

Hardly had Mr. Dunstan's new boat crew followed him ash.o.r.e when a whooping yell sounded from up the road that led to the house. Then into sight dashed a boy mounted on a pony. On they came at a full gallop, the boy reining up with a jerk when barely six feet from his father.

"Careful, Ted!" warned Mr. Dunstan laughingly. "Don't ride me down.

You're not yet through with your use for a father, you know."

"I was trying to show you, dad, how Sheridan and I are learning our paces together," replied the youngster. He was a rather slightly built boy, with cl.u.s.tering yellow hair and gray eyes. He wore a khaki suit and a sombrero modeled after the Army campaign hat. Even his saddle was of the Army type, being a miniature McClellan in model.

Tom liked this lad after the first look. There was something whole-souled about this little fellow with the laughing eyes. And, though he had been reared in a home of wealth, there was nothing in the least sn.o.bbish in the way he suddenly turned to regard the Motor Boat Club boys.

"Ted, Captain Halstead and his friend, Dawson," said Mr. Dunstan.

"You'll be glad to know that they've got the 'Meteor' in running order again."

Ted was careful to dismount before he offered his hand, with graceful friendliness, to each of the boys.

"You've made dad happy if you've got his boat to running again," laughed Master Ted.

"And you? Aren't you fond of motor boating?" queried Tom.

"Oh, yes; after a fashion, I suppose," replied the Dunstan hopeful deliberately. "But then, you see, I'm cut out for a soldier. I'm to go into the Army, you know, and anything to do with salt water smacks a bit too much of the Navy."

All of which remarkable declaration Master Ted made as though he imagined these new acquaintances understood all about his future plans.