CHAPTER XIX
A TRUCE, UNTIL——
“SO yo’ are Cap’n Tom Halstead. Yes, I reckon yo’ be,” assented thetall, lanky individual whom Tom and Joe found on the deck of the“Restless.”
These two motor boat boys had put off from shore some time in advanceof the rest of the Tremaine party.
It had taken them the better part of two days, by carriage, to make thejourney down to Tres Arbores, and Tom and Joe had put off at once,leaving Jeff to come out with the Tremaines, Miss Silsbee and OliverDixon.
Tom’s astonishment at meeting this stranger, instead of OfficerRandolph, showed in his face.
“I’m Bill Dunlow,” volunteered the lanky stranger, thrusting a handinto one of his pockets. “Yo’ see, it was like this: Clayton Randolphhad to go up into the interior after a prisoner——”
“Oh!”
“So he done put me abo’d this boat. Told me jest what yo’ wanted in theway of a watchman, and he lef’ this note fo’ yo’.”
Tom looked over the note, in which Clayton Randolph informed the youngcaptain of his protracted call to police duty, adding that Bill Dunlowwas a “right proper man” to take his place.
“It’s all right,” nodded Tom. “I hope, Mr. Dunlow, you haven’t been toolonely out here on this boat.”
Halstead settled with the stranger, who then went ashore in the boatthat was returning for the others of the party.
“What are you scowling at?” demanded Joe Dawson, looking keenly at hischum after the boat had left the side.
“Was I?” asked Tom, brightening. There had been reason enough for hisscowl.
“Randolph isn’t here, so I can’t take Mr. Tremaine to him. Confoundthe luck. Off we go to Tampa, and the mystery of the vanished moneyisn’t cleared up. I wouldn’t attempt to tell Mr. Tremaine without beingbacked by Officer Randolph or a letter from him. As for going up tothat other town, and getting confirmation from Randolph’s elder son,that would be out of the question. The young man wouldn’t say a wordabout the express company’s business, unless he had orders from hisfather. And Randolph is away, heaven alone knowing when he’ll be backhere. Oh, I hope Randolph also left a note for Mr. Tremaine. But nosuch luck!”
No wonder Tom Halstead was agitated as he paced the deck from bowto stern. As long as the mystery of the vanished money remained notcleared up he would never feel easy about the stain that it leftclinging to Joe and himself—principally to himself.
The boat was coming out again from shore.
“Everybody in it except Dixon,” discovered Halstead, with a start. “Iwonder if that fellow has made an excuse to get away? Has he fled?Yet that doesn’t seem just likely, either, after all the attention heshowed Ida Silsbee on the way down from Lake Okeechobee. I guess hefigures that, if he can once marry Tremaine’s ward, then, no matterwhat leaks out, Tremaine will keep silent for Ida Silsbee’s sake.”
The boat was soon alongside.
“One passenger shy,” hailed Halstead, forcing himself to laugh lightly.
“Yes,” nodded Henry Tremaine, indifferently. “Dixon happened to think,at the last moment, to go up to the post office, to see if there wasany mail for any of our party. Very thoughtful of the young man. We’llsend the boat ashore for him, and he’ll be out here on the next trip.”
Tom Halstead watched the shore closely enough, after that. However, atlast, he had the satisfaction of seeing Oliver Dixon wave his hand fromthe landing stage, and then embark in the rowboat.
“Any mail, Oliver?” asked Mr. Tremaine, as the young man stepped upover the side.
“Two for you, sir, and one for Mrs. Tremaine,” replied young Dixon,handing over the letters. “None for Miss Silsbee, nor any for the crew.”
“None for me, eh?” asked Captain Tom, his tone pleasant enough, to maskhis thoughts. “I hope you had some mail for yourself, Mr. Dixon?”
“A bill and two circulars,” nodded the young man, carelessly enough,though he shot a keen look back to meet Skipper Tom’s inquiring gaze.
“Is there anything to prevent our sailing at once, now, Captain?” askedthe charter-man. “I know the ladies are keen to be on their way; to thedelights of Tampa.”
“I shall have to hold up a little while,” replied Skipper Tom, pointingto the bridge deck chronometer. “I have discovered that it has beenrunning slow while we were away. In navigation it is a matter ofimportance to have the chronometer just right to the second. But itought not to take me long. If there’s a watchmaker in Tres Arbores, hecan adjust the chronometer within half an hour. Then I’ll come rightback, ready to sail.”
Henry Tremaine nodded. Oliver Dixon had gone below, of which fact theyoung skipper was glad. It gave him a chance to get ashore before Dixoncould offer, on some pretext, to accompany him.
The chronometer that the young skipper took over the side with himactually registered twenty-two minutes behind standard time. Sly Tom!He himself had set the hands back while awaiting the coming of theTremaine party.
Once on shore the young captain hurried to the post office, where heindited an urgent letter to Clayton Randolph. Tom informed the localofficer that he had received the latter’s letter, but that it haddisappeared before it could be put to use. Halstead urged OfficerRandolph, on his return, to send to the captain of the “Restless,” atthe Tampa Bay Hotel, another letter by registered mail.
“If you can enclose any other evidence it will be of the greatestvalue,” Tom wrote, also, by way of stronger hint.
Into the letter Halstead slipped a ten-dollar bill. After sealing theenvelope, he handed it to the postmaster, saying:
“Register this, please. And don’t give it to any other than ClaytonRandolph—not even to anyone authorized to receive his mail.”
That business attended to, Tom Halstead paid three bills against theboat, then hurried back to the water front, after having set hisprecious chronometer back to exactly the right time. Again he took boatout to the yacht, and bounding up on deck, his face was wreathed insmiles.
“Old Chronom. is all right, now,” he called to Henry Tremaine, who wasseated in one of the deck chairs, smoking. “Now, we’ll start, sir, justas soon as we can get the anchor up.”
Jeff, who had found time to run home to his mother and inform her ofhis great luck, lent a strong hand in the preliminaries to starting.
“Do yo’ reckon, Cap’n, yo’d let me pilot the ‘Restless’ out o’ thisharbor and some o’ the way down the bay?”
“Go ahead,” smiled Captain Tom, who was feeling unusually contented, atlast. “Enjoy yourself all you like, Jeff, until it’s time to go belowand turn to preparing the evening meal.”
So Jeff Randolph stood proudly by the wheel as the “Restless” pointedher nose down Oyster Bay, over a smooth sea, on her way to that greatFlorida winter resort, Tampa.
After their rest the twin motors ran, as Joe phrased it, “asthough made of grease.” Everybody aboard appeared to be unusuallylight-hearted.
“It’s a pleasure to cruise like this,” murmured Henry Tremaine,lighting a fresh cigar.
Jeff, happy over his new vocation, put all his lightest spirits intothe preparation of the evening meal. As a guide he had had muchexperience with cookery. The meal went off delightfully.
Dixon, stepping up the after companionway after dinner, a cigarettebetween his lips, encountered the young sailing master.
“Good evening,” Tom greeted, pleasantly.
“Oh, good evening,” returned Mr. Dixon, smiling and showing his teeth.
“Did you ever see a pleasanter night than this on the water?” askedHalstead.
“Not many, anyway. I hope the ladies will soon come up to enjoy it.”
“I hope so,” nodded Tom. “Somehow, this sort of a night suggests theneed of singing and stringed instruments on deck, doesn’t it?”
He spoke with an affectation of good will that deceived even OliverDixon, who, after glancing keenly, at the young captain, suddenly said:
“Halstead, you didn
’t seem to like me very well, for a while.”
“If I didn’t,” spoke the young skipper, seriously, “it may have beendue to a rather big misunderstanding.”
“Of what kind?” demanded Dixon.
“Well, connected with that miserable affair of the missing money.”
“O—oh,” said Dixon, looking still more keenly at the motor boat skipper.
“I knew,” pursued Tom Halstead, “that I didn’t take the money. For thatreason, I suppose, I wondered if _you_ were the one who had taken it?Lately, I have had reason to see how absurd such a suspicion would be.”
“What reason?” demanded Oliver Dixon, his eyes almost blazing into TomHalstead’s face.
“Why, from Mr. Tremaine I’ve gleaned the idea that you’re socomfortably well off in this world’s goods that taking his fewthousands of dollars would be an utter absurdity for you. So thevanishing of that money is back to its old footing of an unexplainablemystery.”
“Did you say anything to Henry Tremaine about your suspicion?” inquiredDixon, looking searchingly at the boy.
“No,” retorted Tom Halstead, curtly. “I had only my suspicion of themoment—no proof. I always try to play fair—and I’m glad I did.”
The companionway door was being opened below. The ladies were ready tocome up on deck.
Oliver Dixon held out his hand, as though by strong impulse.
“Halstead, you’re a brick!” he exclaimed. “You’re the right sort ofyoung fellow. I don’t mind your first suspicion, since you realize howgroundless it was. We shall be better friends, after this. Your hand!”
Tom took the proffered hand—not too limply, either.
“I hope I’ve lulled the fellow’s suspicion until I can strike,” thoughtthe young sailing master.
While Oliver Dixon said hurriedly to himself:
“This fellow was dangerous, but now I begin to think he’s a fool. If Ican keep him lulled for a few days more I may have all my lines laid.Then I can laugh at him—or pay someone to beat him properly!”
Diplomatic Tom! Crafty Dixon!
The ladies had come on deck.
The Motor Boat Club in Florida; or, Laying the Ghost of Alligator Swamp Page 19
