Wilt Thou Torchy Part 36

"Good night!" says I. "Pinched on the high seas!"

I didn't waste much time except to throw on a few clothes; but, at that, I finds Auntie scrabblin' out ahead of me and Captain Killam already on deck. She's a picturesque old girl, Auntie, in a lavender and white kimono and a boudoir cap to match; and Rupert, in blue trousers and a pajama top, hardly looks like a triple-plated hero.

"Nabbed!" gasps Rupert, starin' over the rail, at a gray gunboat that's just roundin' in towards us. It's the _Petrel_, sure enough.

"The idea!" says Auntie. "They were shooting at us, too, weren't they?

Of all things!"

Then up pads Old Hickory in a low-necked silk dressin'-gown, with his gray hair all rumpled and a heavy crop of white stubble on his solid set jaws.

"Huh!" says he, takin' a glance at the _Petrel_.

That's about all there is to be said, too. For it was odd how little any of us felt like bein' chatty. We just stood around quiet and watched the businesslike motions on the _Petrel_ as she stops about a block off and proceeds to drop a boat into the water.

Projectin' prominent from one of her steel bay windows is a wicked-lookin' gun about the size of a young water main, and behind it a lot of jackies squintin' at us earnest. And you know how still it seems on a boat when the engines quit. I almost jumps when someone whispers in my ear. It's Vee.

"Now I hope Auntie's satisfied," says she.

"There's no tellin' about her," says I.

Anyway, she wasn't fannin' herself, or sniffin' smellin' salts. I'd noticed her hail a deck steward, and the next I knew she was spoonin'

away at half a grapefruit, as calm as you please. Mr. Ellins is indulgin' in a dry smoke. Only Mrs. Mumford, when she finally appears, does justice to the situation. She rolls her eyes, breathes hard, and clutches her crochet bag desperate.

The _Petrel_ people were takin' their time about things. After they got the boat in they had to let down some side stairs, and then the sailors waited with their oars ready until an officer in a fresh laundered white uniform gets in and gives the signal to shove off. Our Captain has the companionway stairs rigged, too, and there ain't a word pa.s.sed until the naval gent comes aboard. He's rather a youngish party, with a round, good-natured face, and he seems kind of amused as he sizes up our bunch in their early mornin' costumes.

"Pardon me," says he, touchin' his cap, "but who is in charge of this yacht?"

"I suppose I am," says Old Hickory.

"Not a bit more than I," puts in Auntie. "And I want to tell you right now, young man, that I consider your action in shooting off those guns at us was--"

"I presume you recognize the United States Navy, madam?" breaks in the officer.

"Not necessarily," snaps Auntie. "I don't in the least see why we should, I'm sure."

"Certainly we do," corrects Old Hickory. "But, as Mrs. Hemmingway observes, we dislike to be shot at."

"Even though you couldn't hit us," adds Auntie.

The officer grins.

"Oh, our gunners aren't as bad as that," says he. "We were merely shooting across your bows, you know. I am Lieutenant Commander Faulhaber, and it is part of my duty to overhaul and inspect any suspicious acting craft."

"Why didn't you do it last night, then?" demands Auntie.

"Because we blew out a cylinder gasket," says he. "The _Petrel_ isn't a new boat, by any means, and hardly in first-cla.s.s shape. But we managed to patch her up, you see."

"Humph!" says Auntie.

Honest, I was almost sorry for that naval gent before she got through with him, for she sure did state her opinion, free and forcible, of his holdin' us up this way. He stands and takes it, too, until she's all through.

"Sorry you feel that way about it," says he, "but I shall be obliged to make a thorough search of this boat, nevertheless. Also I shall require an explanation as to why you disregarded my wireless orders.

Unless you can satisfy me that--"

It's about there this cheery hail comes from J. Dudley Simms, who is just appearin' from his stateroom, all dolled up complete in white flannels.

"By Jove!" he sings out. "If it isn't Folly. How are you, old man?"

The lieutenant commander swings around with a pleased look.

"Why--er--that you, Dud, old chap? Say, what are you these days?

Blockade runner, smuggler, or what?"

"You're warm, Folly, you're warm!" says Dudley. "Hunting for buried treasure, that's our game--pirate gold--all that sort of thing."

And say, in less than two shakes he's given the whole snap away, in spite of Old Hickory scowlin' and Auntie glarin' like she meant to murder him with her grapefruit spoon.

But the news don't seem to impress Lieutenant Commander Faulhaber very serious.

"Not really?" says he, chucklin'. "Oh? Then that's the reason for all this mystery? Treasure hunting! Well, well!" And he grins more expansive than ever as he takes another look around.

Next he's introduced proper to everybody, and inside of ten minutes we're all sitting down to breakfast together, while J. Dudley explains how him and Folly has been lifelong chums.

So we didn't get pinched, after all.

"Although," says the lieutenant commander, as he starts back towards the _Petrel_, "I suppose I ought to fine you for exceeding the speed limit."

The _Agnes_ has got under way again, and we'd stopped wavin' good-by to the jackies, when I catches a glimpse of a head bein' poked cautious out from under the canvas cover of one of our lifeboats. Nudgin' Vee to look, I steps up to Mr. Ellins, who's talkin' with Auntie and Mrs.

Mumford, and points out my discovery. By that time the head has been followed by a pair of shoulders.

Old Hickory just narrows his eyes and stares.

"Why!" gasps Mrs. Mumford, "it--it's Captain Killam!"

"Yep!" says I. "Rupert the Reckless. Only this trip he seems to be playin' it safe, eh?"

"In hiding!" says Auntie. "All the time, too!"

"Huh!" grunts Old Hickory, watchin' Killam crawl out and slip around a corner. But say, Mr. Ellins can make that "Huh!" of his mean a lot.

He knows when he's been buffaloed, take it from me. My guess is that Rupert's stock is in for a bad slump. I'd quote him about thirty off and no bids.

CHAPTER XIV

AUNTIE TAKES A NIGHT OFF