“To the breathless amazement of the awe-smitten listeners, two young women, pretty of feature and with mischievous eyes, volunteered. He warned them of the risk they ran, but they replied that they were not afraid of anything that failed to alarm him, and any way they didn’t believe the horrid creature would get a chance to harm them before their escort would pierce its brain with several bullets. This tribute to the young man’s skill and bravery caused him to set his hat at a greater angle and thrust out his chest still more. Many of the spectators thought it their duty to protest, but the girls would not be dissuaded, and a few minutes later the boat put off with its three occupants, while every glass or unaided eye followed the movements of the craft.
“This was one of the times when the serpent was in plain sight a half mile away, and the young hero headed directly toward it. The girls laughed and chatted and were sure it was the greatest lark in which they had ever engaged.
“They noticed that as they drew near the creature their escort showed lees enthusiasm and kept looking over his shoulder. It is not to be supposed they were free from a few tremors themselves, but, if so, they did not allow him to see it. They kept up their laughter and commented freely upon the timidity of the thousands who remained upon the hotel porch and watched the sea serpent from afar.
“More slowly the oars swayed until probably a couple of hundred yards separated the boat from that awful undulating monster. The young man ceased toiling and laid his hand upon the revolver in his hip pocket.
“‘You are not near enough to reach him,’ said one of the misses.
“‘I am best on long shots,’ he replied with another glance at that fearful head.
“‘Why, he has seen us! He is looking this way!’ exclaimed the other.
“‘Are you sure of that?’ he asked with chattering teeth.
“‘Yes; he’s coming toward us! Isn’t that splendid? All you will have to do is to wait until he is near enough and then shoot the horrid thing through the head as you said you would.’
“But the young man had heard enough. He whirled the boat around and rowed with might and main, never pausing until he reached the wharf, when he sprang out, and amid the laughter and jeers of the spectators rushed to his room, which he kept until the time came for him to leave the hotel.
“The sea serpent was seen at intervals all through the summer. It did not make itself too cheap, and a week or more would pass without its showing itself. It was observed late in the season, but finally disappeared for good. The Appledore House was crowded as never before, and ran to its fullest capacity for the two following summers because of the general expectation that the sea serpent would show up again, but it never did, and in due time became only a memory or was forgotten entirely.
“When you land at the dock at Boothbay Harbor and come up the slope to Commercial Street, turn to the left, walk only a little way and you will come to the large grocery store of Simpson and Perkins. In the upper hall of that store, as it used to be, the sea serpent of which I have been telling you was born and attained its full growth, preliminary to its removal to the Isle of Shoals.
“The author of its being was William Wilson, who died about ten years ago. He was an English sailor, who in middle life gave up the sea and settled in Boothbay Harbor, where for years he was the only rigger in the little town. He possessed great natural mechanical ability, and it was said of him that he could make anything. He was unusually skilful in plain and fancy sewing and in constructing all sorts of knickknacks. He turned his attention to house painting and in that developed real artistic taste. In short, he was a Jack-of-all-trades and good in each.
“One day a stranger who had heard of Wilson’s versatility came to him with a proposition that he should construct him a sea serpent, for which he was willing to pay two hundred dollars. He explained its purpose and impressed upon the artist the necessity of keeping the thing an absolute secret,—since the discovery that it was a fake would defeat the very object of its being, which was to build up business for the hotel at the Isle of Shoals.
“Wilson agreed to construct the sea serpent in accordance with his own ideas of what it should be. His employer was quite willing to accept this proviso, for he knew the man’s ingenuity and so the verbal contract was made.
“Wilson had a partner in the work, a Swede named Robert Alson, who is still living. These two used to saunter upstairs into the long hall which was their workshop, lock the door and devote themselves to the task, upon which they spent their spare hours throughout the winter. Like a true artist, Wilson would not hurry, and gave careful attention to the smaller details,—a fact which accounts for the perfect success of the extraordinary fraud.
“The sea serpent was exactly thirty-five feet long, and for convenience of shipment was made in three sections, which overlapped and could be readily sewn together. The material was strong canvas, painted a black color, with proper proportions. The tail tapered, as did the neck, the largest part of the body being about two feet in diameter. The head, eyes and mouth were not exaggerated, as would have been the fact with almost any amateur at the job. It was stuffed with cork and oak shavings, so nicely adjusted that it would float partly on or just below the surface, with the curving neck lifting the hideous head two or three feet above the water. The small waves gave a lifelike motion to the thing, which made it seem to be moving slowly through the water, when in fact it never progressed forward or backward, for its position was held immovably by an anchor.
“When the serpent was at last completed it was securely boxed and shipped to Portsmouth, six miles from the Isle of Shoals. Then it was towed at night to the right place, anchored and left to do its duty, which, as I have told you, it succeeded in doing to perfection. It is strange that the imposture was kept up for month after-month, and that it was seen and inspected by thousands, and yet no one really penetrated the clever deception. It was towed to the anchorage at night, and taken away again the next night to a secure hiding place. Those who had it in charge were too shrewd to overdo the trick. When the attention of the crowds threatened to become too warm, the serpent disappeared and was not again seen for a week or more. The general belief was that it had gone out to sea, but after a time some strange attraction drew it back into the field of vision of the swarms of visitors to the Appledore Hotel. As I said, the sea serpent disappeared for good in the autumn and this particular one was never seen again—that is, in its native element. I do not know what ultimately became of it.”
At this point in the narrative Uncle Elk paused, and it could be seen that he was smiling behind his beard.
“I now want to say something to you in confidence. You must be sure not to repeat it in the hearing of others. I gave you the names of the two men who built the sea serpent, but I have good reason to believe a third person had a hand in it. If you will question Keyes H. Richards, the proprietor of the Samoset House on Mouse Island, you will find that he knows all about it. I once asked him point blank if he did not have something to do with its construction, but I could not draw a direct answer from him. Therefore, I retain my suspicions.
“Last spring the twin brothers, Asa and Bige Carter of Boothbay, persuaded themselves that they could make a tidy sum of money by introducing a new sea serpent to the public. After they had completed it, they decided to make a preliminary test by bringing it to Gosling Lake and trying it on you Boy Scouts. They let me into the secret, and though much interested, I discouraged it. They lacked the artistic cleverness of Wilson and the trick was sure to be detected and quickly exposed. I met them on the shore of the lake and saw them tow it out a little way, and anchor it. It was not properly balanced, and while the body sank, the head rose to within a foot of the surface, but would not come any higher. When those two tramps happened to look over the edge of their canoe, you may perhaps imagine their terror at sight of the gently swaying monstrosity that seemed on the point of crushing the boat or them in its jaws. Never again will they be so overcome with blind panic.
“This in
cident, together with my earnest persuasions, induced the Carter boys to give up their scheme and to take away their sea serpent and consign it to oblivion.”
CHAPTER XVI
Zip
On the evening succeeding the interesting story told by Uncle Elk of the once famous sea serpent, the majority of the Boy Scouts were seated on the porch of the bungalow exchanging the day’s experiences. The half dozen detailed to prepare supper were as busy as they could be, for they like their waiting companions were exceedingly a-hungered. Some had spent hours in fishing for perch, bass, salmon, pickerel and lake trout; others had strolled through the fragrant, resinous woods, studying trees and bird life, and all had added to their splendid reserve of rugged health, exuberant animal spirits, and that genuine happiness which comes only with an upright life, clean habits and the constant seeking of an opportunity to do others a “good turn.”
The day had been an ideal one, overflowing with radiant sunshine, surcharged with ozone and with a sky of a crystalline clearness which Italy throughout all its historic centuries has never surpassed. The summer was drawing to a close; the nights were perceptibly longer, and there was a crisp coolness which increased after sunset and told of the coming of autumn and winter.
Scout Master Hall sat among his boys looking out upon the placid lake, the conversation rambling and not important enough to call for record. The chair in which Jack Crandall reclined while he talked had been carried inside by two of the Scouts, Doctor Spellman having advised that this should be done now that the weather was growing chilly.
Suddenly, Gerald Hume, of the Stag Patrol, who sat nearest to the end of the porch, said:
“Hello? we have a visitor.”
A general turning of heads followed. Coming along the beach from the direction of Uncle Elk’s home was a boy, probably fifteen or sixteen years old, rather tall for his age, dressed in khaki, with leggings, a close-fitting cap and short coat with belt around the waist. While his attire resembled in some respects that of the Boy Scouts, it was not the same. He swung a swagger or short cane in his right hand, and advanced with the elastic grace of an athlete. As he drew nearer it was seen that he had a pleasing face, with regular features, dark eyes and hair, and that air which while it cannot be described, yet reveals the polish and culture of the true gentleman.
Glancing aside at the boys who were busy with their culinary duties, he stepped lightly upon the porch and with a military salute called out:
“Good evening, boys; I am glad to meet you.”
Scout Master Hall and every youth sprang to their feet and made the regulation salute, the leader advancing and offering his hand.
“And I assure you we are all pleased to welcome you. You are in time to join us at supper and of course will stay over night. Are you alone?”
“I am; my name is George Burton and my home is in the city of New York. I am spending a week or two at the Hotel Samoset on Mouse Island, but must soon leave to meet my folks on their return from the other side.”
“Did you come from Mouse Island today?” inquired Scout Master Hall.
“I left there early this morning; crossed to Boothbay Harbor and then struck on foot, just as my brother and I did last summer in tramping through Switzerland. A farmer gave me a ride of several miles, when I resorted to shanks-mare again. Then I caught another ride—not quite so long as the former—until I came to the half-broken track through the woods, over which I believe the wagon labors that brings your supplies. I had heard that a party of Boy Scouts were stopping at the clubhouse, which I saw from the other side of the lake, so I skirted the sheet of water to this point.”
“That makes a pretty good tramp for one day,” remarked the Scout Master.
“I have done a good deal better, and I am sure it would not tax any one of you. You asked me a few minutes ago if I were alone; I am, but I expect soon to be joined by a friend.”
Young Burton laughed at the surprised looks turned toward him.
“He is my dog, named Zip.”
“He will be as welcome as his master,” said Mr. Hall.
“I know that and I thank you for us both.”
“It’s mesilf that is wondering why ye don’t kaap company,” said Mike Murphy; “me dad explained to Father Hoogan, as his rason for taking me wid him whereiver he wint, that he liked to have a pup at his heels whin he wandered round the country.”
The visitor smiled at the Irish lad’s drollery, and was on the point of answering the query, when the Scouts in charge of the dinner preparations announced that the meal was ready.
“We are all curious to hear your story, which we know is interesting,” remarked the Scout Master as he and the boys rose to their feet, “but nothing can be so attractive just now as the meal to which we have just been summoned.”
“I am of your opinion,” replied Burton, moving off with the others to the table.
“May I ask when you look for the arrival of your friend Zip?”
The guest took out his watch and glanced at its face.
“It is now half-past six; he ought to be here by seven; I must allow him some margin.”
Every one was puzzled, but made no comment. As the Scout Master had remarked, the question of satisfying their hunger dominated all others for the time.
Needless to say the whole party partook of the food with the satisfying enjoyment which waits on sound health and exuberant spirits. As Scout Master Hall quoted, all “ate like horses when you hear them eat,” the feast enlivened by continuous chatter, jest and merriment. Jack Crandall’s chair was wheeled to the table, and with a little help from his friends he did his part well. Less than half an hour thus passed, when the company adjourned to the front porch, the only absent ones being the half dozen who had to clean up and leave things ready for the morning meal. This work did not take long, and all were soon gathered together, the Scouts much interested in their guest, and what he told them about his dog Zip.
“He is a bloodhound,” he explained, “not quite two years old. The breed is not specially noted for its intelligence, but its delicacy or power of scent would be unbelievable had it not been proved over and over again. I hope to give you some demonstrations by my own dog, who is of pure breed, and with more brains than the generality of his kind.”
“Are you sure he will trail you to this place?” asked Scout Master Hall.
“There is not a particle of doubt about it. He has performed more difficult feats than that; in fact, I am trying to find something he cannot do, but so far haven’t succeeded.”
“Will you tell us the particulars of his present task?”
“I left Mouse Island this morning about seven o’clock on the Norman II, run by Captain Pinkham. Having made my arrangements with Manager Dodge, I explained to my friend Chester Greenleaf that Zip would be at the dock and board the boat at twenty minutes to two for the roundabout trip to Boothbay Harbor. I advised Greenleaf not to try to collect a ticket from Zip, as he might resent it, and the young man promised to bear the counsel in mind. All that was to be done was to take the pup to the wharf at Boothbay and leave him to do the rest.
“Zip didn’t like the idea of being left behind at Mouse, but he knew what was expected of him, and stood quietly on the dock as with a lugubrious expression he watched me go. I waved my hand at him, and he wagged his tail in return, as much as to say I couldn’t lose him in that fashion.
“Now,” said Burton animatedly, “consider what Zip has had to do. He left Mouse Island at twenty minutes to two o’clock this afternoon and reached Boothbay Harbor at about half past two, which was fully seven hours behind me. I’ll warrant he was the first one ashore, and in a twinkling picked up my trail and was speeding northward from the town. Two miles out he lost it for the time because I had a lift from a farmer, but Zip knew what that meant, and he loped on up the road, certain of discovering when I left the vehicle.”
“Is it possible,” asked Scout Master Hall, “that he could keep your scent while you were riding in a
wagon?”
“I am not prepared to deny it, incredible as it may sound. A bloodhound has been known to trot twenty feet to one side of a trail along a broad highway, and not lose it for miles. Zip is so familiar with my scent that he may have detected it from the first. Be that as it may, he lost no time in nosing about the road, but detected the very spot where my foot again touched ground, and was after me like a thunderbolt. I had a second ride—not quite so long as the first—which brought me to the rough unbroken track over which your supply wagon brings your provisions. It was a long tramp to this place, and, as you know, the afternoon was gone when I arrived.”
“Did you make any attempts to throw him off your track?”
“No, for it was useless. Had a canoe been at hand I might have crossed the lake in it, but that would have been unfair, for of course no trail can be followed through water, since in the nature of things none can be made.
“Since I have been specially interested in this breed of dogs,” young Burton modestly added, “I may have picked up a few points that are not familiar to all of you.”
“There is no question as to that,” replied Scout Master Hall, “you have already proved it; you are telling us facts that are not only new to us but of special interest. All the boys feel as I do.”
A general murmur of assent followed.
“You are more complimentary than I deserve. While the bloodhound is not the most common breed of dogs in this country, I suppose most of you are familiar with his looks and history. They were once used in Cuba to track escaping prisoners and runaway slaves, and probably served the same purpose in some parts of the South before the Civil War, but in our country they were employed simply to track the negroes and were trained not to harm them, for, aside from the cruelty of the act, it was against the interests of the slave owner to injure his own property. In Cuba, the bloodhounds were like ravening tigers. The poor wretch in threshing through the thickets and swamps heard the horrible baying fast drawing nearer. His only escape was to leap among the limbs of a tree, and climb beyond reach of the brutes. If he was tardy in doing so, the black terror that burst through the undergrowth buried his fangs in his throat the next instant and never let go, no matter how desperately the man fought.”
The Edward S. Ellis Megapack Page 323
