The Motor Boat Club off Long Island; or, A Daring Marine Game at Racing Speed

by H. Irving Hancock

  CHAPTER II

  A WHIFF OF FORTUNE

  MR. DELAVAN immediately raised a pair of marine glasses to his eyes,taking a long, careful look at the great hull.

  “Yes; that’s the ‘Kaiser,’” he agreed.

  “There’s a smaller craft, astern, that may interest you also, sir,”reported Jed, from the after deck.

  Mr. Delavan turned quickly, though not with such a start as did hisfriend, Moddridge.

  Astern, or, rather, over the port quarter, appeared a long, narrowracing hull. It was evidently the same motor craft that had so nearlyrammed them in the deep fog.

  “Confound that hoodoo boat,” muttered Mr. Delavan, in a low tone, tohis companion. “I’d give quite a bit to know who are aboard that craft.”

  “S-s-so would I,” stammered Moddridge. “It looks queer. Whoever theyare, they’re dogging us, of course.”

  “That’s what I’d like to know,” returned Delavan, musingly.

  “Shall I keep to the same course, sir?” asked Captain Tom, as soon ashis employer looked around.

  “Why, now, I’ll tell you what I want you to do, captain,” answered theowner. “Run out towards the ‘Kaiser,’ though you needn’t be at pains tomake it too plain that you’re seeking the big ship. After you get the‘Rocket’ somewhat near, take a wide, sweeping turn to landward of thebig craft. Run fairly near, keeping your port hull about parallel withthe ‘Kaiser’s’ starboard. Run alongside for a little distance, untilyour orders are changed. Moddridge and I are going down into the cabin,to take our stations at port-holes. Prentiss will stand by the cabindoorway to pass up, in a low voice, any orders that I may give him foryou. Is that all clear, captain?”

  “Quite clear, sir.”

  “Then come below, Moddridge,” continued the owner, turning to hisfriend. “And for goodness’ sake, man, if you can, behave differently.Don’t let your legs shake so under you.”

  “I c-c-can’t help it,” stammered the smaller man, nervously.

  “You’re not going to the hangman, man!” laughed Mr. Delavan, jovially,as he led the way below.

  “I reckon I’d better drop down into the engine room for signals, hadn’tI?” proposed Dawson. Tom nodded, and his chum vanished, though hishead soon reappeared, framed in the engine room hatchway. The beautyof a gasoline motor engine is that when all is running smoothly andno signals from the bridge are to be expected, the engineer may spendmuch of his time up on deck. On the bridge deck, near the wheel, are“controls” by means of which the helmsman can change the speeds, stopor reverse at will.

  As Captain Tom headed in the direction ordered he heard Jed reportingto the owner that the long racing boat astern did not appear to bemaking any efforts to overtake the “Rocket” or to reach the “KaiserWilhelm.” Instead, the racing boat seemed to be playing wholly awaiting game. This racing craft was about thirty-two to thirty-fivefeet long. She was not fitted for cruising, but only for fast spurts.She had, instead of a cabin, a deck-over hood forward that protectedher engine and galley from the spray.

  The “Kaiser Wilhelm” being one of the swiftest of the ocean grayhounds,and the “Rocket” now making at least sixteen miles an hour, it was notlong before young Halstead was ready to carry out the second part ofhis sailing orders.

  He steered the “Rocket” so that she made a wide sweep around, thencame up parallel with the big ocean steamship. There was about fourhundred feet of water between the big hull and the little one as thetwo craft ran along parallel.

  Tom yanked the bell-pull for more speed. This Joe provided, lookingup once in a while to make sure that he was keeping up with the swift“Kaiser Wilhelm.”

  “Ask Mr. Delavan if we’re running all right, Jed,” requested the youngcaptain.

  “Yes,” nodded Jed, after repeating the message without moving.

  The big steamship’s deck was covered with passengers, most of themcrowding fairly close to the starboard rail. It was plain that thevoyagers felt some curiosity regarding this dapper, trim littlecruising craft that kept so handily along with the racing grayhound.

  There was a great fluttering of handkerchiefs, which Tom acknowledgedby several short blasts on the auto whistle. The “Kaiser’s” heavywhistle responded.

  “That’s all. Mr. Delavan says to head about for East Hampton,” Jedreported.

  With a parting toot from the whistle, Halstead altered the course.

  “Make your best speed, captain,” was the next order young Prentisstransmitted.

  So it was not long before the “Kaiser” and the “Rocket” were some milesapart. Mr. Delavan came on deck, smiling. Tom tried not to wonder,though he could not help guessing what the Wall Street magnate couldhave accomplished by means of this brief, eventless cruise alongsidethe larger vessel.

  But Mr. Moddridge! His face was positively wreathed in smiles. All hisfears seemed to have vanished. The smaller man was still nervous, butit was the agitation of intense joy.

  “It’s all right, Halstead,” beamed Mr. Delavan.

  “I suppose it must be, sir,” smiled the youthful skipper.

  “You’re puzzled, aren’t you, lad?”

  “Why, I’m trying not to be, as, of course, it’s none of my business.”

  “Of course it isn’t,” laughed Mr. Moddridge, uneasily. “But whatwouldn’t he give to know, Delavan?”

  “Why, I can give you a hint or two,” smiled the big, good-natured man.

  “Don’t you say anything,” protested Moddridge, paling.

  “Nonsense,” laughed Mr. Delavan. “Halstead, did you notice oneman who stood at the rail of the big craft? A man tall and verybroad-shouldered, a man of seventy, with considerable of a stoop, butwith the nose and eyes that make one think of an eagle? His clothesfitted him loosely. He isn’t what you’d call a man of fashion, but aman whom, once you saw him, you’d never forget.”

  “And at his right hand stood a man who looked like a clergyman?”inquired Halstead.

  “I see you marked the man. Do you know who he is?”

  “No, sir, though I’m sure I’ve seen his portrait in the newspapers.”

  “H’m! I guess you have,” chuckled Mr. Delavan. “Well, that’s Gordon,the great man in the steel world, the colossal banker, the man wholends nations money.”

  “You didn’t make this trip just to make sure that he was aboard?” Tomhazarded.

  “Of course not, captain. I had that information days ago, by cable. ButGordon has been doing big things abroad, things that will rouse theworld’s market and shake fortunes up or down. By to-morrow morning WallStreet will be seething, just on guesses as to what Gordon has done inParis and what speculations he’ll make, now that he has returned.”

  “Delavan!” cried Moddridge, sharply. “I protest. Not another word.”

  “Nonsense!” retorted the big man, cheerily. “Halstead, whoever makesthe right guess as to what big money deals Gordon has arranged abroadcan make barrels of money in Wall Street during the next two or threedays. Those who guess wrong will lose their money. Money will be made,and money will be lost in Wall Street, during the next few days—all onguessing which way Gordon’s cat jumped in Paris.”

  “And all the while no one will _know_, except Mr. Gordon himself?”smiled Tom Halstead.

  “That’s the point,” chuckled Francis Delavan, contentedly.

  “S-s-stop!” cried Moddridge, warningly. But his large friend,disregarding him utterly, continued:

  “On that same ship a man came over whom Moddridge and I trust. Our manhas a great knack for drawing people out. It was his task to talk withGordon at every good opportunity, and to get from the great man someindication as to the real news. Our man was paid by us, and paid well,but he also gets a substantial share of the profits we hope to make.He has made every effort to get a tip from Gordon, and it was thatinformation that our man, by two or three simple movements, signaled tous.”

  “And now I suppose you’re going to unbosom yourself, and tell thisyoung boat-handler just what
our information is?” groaned EbenModdridge.

  “No, I am not,” grinned Mr. Delavan. “I don’t believe Halstead evencares a straw about knowing. If he had our information he isn’t thesort of lad who’d venture his little savings in the vortex of WallStreet speculation.”

  “Thank you. You’ve gauged me rightly, sir,” laughed Halstead.

  “But now you can guess why I’m so anxious to reach East Hampton just asearly as you can possibly get us in,” continued Mr. Delavan. “I havea long distance telephone wire of the main trunk line, all the way tooffices in New York, reserved for my instant use. One minute after Ireach the telephone booth my orders will be known by my secret agentsin New York. To-morrow morning Wall Street will seethe and boil overGordon’s return, but my agents—our agents, for Moddridge is in it—willhave their orders in time to do an hour or two of effective work beforethe Stock Exchange closes this afternoon. Now, you understand, captain,why I want to crowd on every fraction of speed to reach East Hampton.”

  “Joe Dawson is working the motor for every bit of speed,” Captain Tomreplied, quietly.

  Moddridge, plucking at his friend’s sleeve, drew him aside to whisper:

  “No matter how well you may like the boy, Delavan, you had no businessto tell him all that you did.”

  “Nonsense,” replied the owner, in a voice loud enough to reach theyoung skipper’s ears. “Prescott knows this young chap like a book.Prescott assured me that there isn’t a tighter-mouthed, or more loyal,dependable young fellow in the world. When a young man is sailing yourboat on rush business he should have some idea of what he’s doing andwhy he’s doing it.”

  The “Rocket” was now going at a full twenty-five miles an hour, herpowerful, compact engine fairly throbbing with the work. While the boatmight have been pushed two miles an hour faster, Dawson did not thinkit wise to attempt it except for life and death business.

  The racing boat that they had noted astern was now somewhat ahead.This craft now turned, came back at rushing speed, circled about the“Rocket” in safe seaway, then started ahead again.

  “Confound that boat,” grumbled Mr. Delavan, staring hard at thedecked-over hood, “I’d like to know whether the people I suspect arehidden under that hood.”

  “Looks as though the boat meant to follow us into East Hampton, doesn’tit, sir?” Halstead conjectured.

  “I may as well tell you, Halstead——”

  “Delavan! _Can’t_ you be silent?” groaned Moddridge.

  “I may as well tell you,” resumed the easygoing owner, “that the boatahead probably carries, concealed, two daring Wall Street operators, ortheir spies, who, at any cost, want the very information that Moddridgeand I possess. They must have watched our approach to the ‘Kaiser’through a glass, and now they’ve sped close to us in the effort to seewhether they could guess anything from our faces. Their next moves willbe to keep with us going in, and even to attempt to overhear what wemay telephone to New York.”

  “They’d rather steal your news than get their own honestly, wouldthey?” muttered Halstead. “A good many people are like that abouteverything, I guess.”

  The racing craft had gained at least a quarter of a mile in the racefor East Hampton. Jed had just gone below to spread lunch for the ownerand guest when the racing boat was seen to be slowing down. It was notlong before she lay almost motionless on the rolling surface of theocean.

  “What’s that they’re doing?” cried Mr. Delavan, as the watchers saw apiece of bunting flutter up to the head of the single short mast of theracing craft.

  “The United States flag, field down,” replied keen-eyed Halstead.

  “The signal of distress?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Francis Delavan’s round, good-humored face betrayed instant signs ofuneasiness, mingled with disgust.

  “Captain Halstead, do we have to heed that signal?” he demanded. “Thatis, are we _obliged_ to pay heed?”

  “The laws of the ocean compel us to go close and hail her,” repliedTom, altering the “Rocket’s” course slightly, so as to run near themotionless boat.

  “It’s a trick,” grumbled Mr. Delavan. “They’ll claim that their enginehas broken down. They’ll want to demand a tow.”

  “Do you want us to extend any help?” Tom inquired.

  “Not unless we’re obliged to. But, of course, captain, neither you norI can flagrantly defy the laws of navigation.”

  “Luncheon is ready, gentlemen,” called Jed, from the deck below.

  “Oh, bother luncheon!” muttered Moddridge.

  “Not so, my dear fellow,” retorted Delavan, his old, easy mannerreturning. “We have much work to do, my dear fellow, and we must keepour furnaces running. Luncheon is the best of ideas. Come along.Captain, I look to you to guard my interests.”

  Just as the “Rocket,” her speed lessened, ran up close to the racingcraft, Mr. Delavan disappeared into the cabin, almost dragging hisfriend and guest after him.

  In the cockpit of the speed boat appeared only two men, both of arough, seafaring type, clad in oilskins and sou’westers. There might,however, be several other men concealed around the motor under thedecked-over hood.

  “Boat ahoy!” hailed Captain Tom, running fairly close, then stoppingspeed and reversing for a moment. “What’s the cause of your signal?”

  “Engine broken down,” responded one of the men aboard the other boat.

  “Well, you’re in no danger,” was Captain Halstead’s smiling answer.“You’re riding on a smooth sea.”

  “But we can’t stay out here on the open ocean,” came the reply acrossthe water. “You’re the only other craft near enough to help. We ask youto tow us into port.”

  “We’re in a hurry,” replied Halstead. “Really, we can’t spare thespeed.”

  “But we’re in distress,” argued the man in the other boat. “We ask youfor a tow that you’re quite able to give. What’s the answer?”

  “_That_,” retorted Skipper Tom. He pointed at the mast of the“disabled” craft, to which was rigged a small, furled mainsail. “Thewind is right, and you can easily make port, even under a small spreadof canvas. You’re not in actual distress, and we _are_ in haste.Good-bye!”

  Joe’s grinning face appeared at the engine room hatchway for a moment,though it vanished below as the half-speed ahead bell rang. The“Rocket” forged ahead, followed by ugly words from the racing craft.

  “Neatly done, Halstead,” greeted the voice of Mr. Delavan, as thatgentleman, holding a napkin, appeared at the cabin door below for aninstant. “I heard it all.”

  “If that fellow hadn’t had his canvas rigged we might have had to standby him,” replied Halstead.

  A few minutes later it was seen that the racing craft was coming inslowly, under that small sail. It looked probable, then, that the breakin her engine had been genuine.

  Going at full speed, the “Rocket” was not long in making ShinnecockBay. Soon afterward the young captain ran his craft in at a pier, onwhich stood a waiting automobile.

  “I’ll be back for the rest of my lunch soon, steward,” announced theowner, stepping ashore. He entered the automobile, and was whirledaway through the streets of East Hampton. Mr. Moddridge remained in thecabin, though he played nervously with knife and fork, eating little.

  In fifteen minutes Francis Delavan returned, walking lazily from thetouring car to the deck of his boat, his face expressive, now, ofindolent content.

  “Take us out a little way, captain,” requested the owner. “We want somegood, cool sea air in which to finish the meal, eh, Moddridge?”

  “I—I’m too excited to eat,” protested the smaller man. “Tell me, iseverything all right at the New York end?”

  “Oh, yes, I fancy so,” drawled the owner. “Steward, some more of thatexcellent salad, if you please.”

  As Captain Tom slipped his craft out of Shinnecock Bay once more theymade out the mysterious speed boat, still under sail and at a distance,making slowly for the Long Islan
d coast.

  “Whatever those fellows have guessed at or discovered,” chuckled Mr.Delavan, glancing at the other boat and then at his watch, as he cameon deck, “they can’t hope to reach a telephone in time to catch theStock Exchange open to-day. Good! Prentiss, come up here. Call Dawsonaft if he can leave his engine.”

  As the little group met near the wheel Francis Delavan drew out apocket-book, which he opened.

  “Young gentlemen,” he observed, “I believe Moddridge and I have beenable to play a most important game in the money world to-day. Thatwas largely through the bright services of my new crew aboard the‘Rocket.’ Accept this card, each of you, as a little indication of myappreciation.”

  The “card” that was held out to each was a twenty-dollar bill. Halsteadglanced at it hesitatingly, while his two comrades looked at him.

  “Don’t be backward,” urged Mr. Delavan, good-humoredly. “This sort ofthing doesn’t happen every day. You’ve really earned it to-day, and myluncheon will set better if you take the money.”

  “Thank you,” said Tom, in a low voice. “But we’re under regularsalaries to serve your interests, Mr. Delavan.”

  It was a little whiff from the gale of fortune that the two Wall Streetmen believed had blown their way this day.