The Rival Campers Afloat; or, The Prize Yacht Viking

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER X. MR. CARLETON ARRIVES

  "How d'ye do, squire," bawled Captain Sam Curtis to Squire Brackett, amorning or two later, as the squire stopped for a moment at the door ofthe captain's shop, where he was busily engaged sewing on a sail which hewas refitting for the yacht _Surprise_, for the boys.

  "Good morning, Captain Sam," replied the squire. "You're busy as usual, Isee."

  "Yes," said Captain Sam, "just helping the boys out a little. Smartchaps, those youngsters. Why, they went to work and raised that 'ereyacht down there in the Thoroughfare, and they're cleaning her up ingreat shape; and I vow, when they get her painted and these good sails onher, she'll be every bit as good as new. And she was always a right smartboat."

  The squire scowled at Captain Sam, who kept on with his work; but thesquire made no reply.

  "I should er thought some of you vessel-owners that have got the rigginghandy would have dragged her out for yourselves," continued Captain Sam."I had a mind to do it myself this spring, but I was too busy."

  The squire sniffed as though exasperated at something. But Captain Sam,stitching away, with an enormous sailmaker's needle strapped to his palm,was apparently unmindful. No one would have thought, to look at hisserious face, that he had heard the whole history of the squire's venturedown in the Thoroughfare, through the expedition of Harry Brackett, andthat he was indulging in a little quiet fun at the squire's expense.

  "Why, what on earth should I do with another boat?" inquired the squire."The one I own is one too many for me now. I'd like to sell her if I gota good offer."

  "Would yer?" queried Captain Sam. "Well, you'll get a good boat in herplace if you get the _Viking_. I hear you are trying to buy her."

  "Nonsense!" exclaimed the squire. "Who told you that?"

  "Why, Jack Harvey; he was in here a little while ago. He said as how yourson, Harry, offered him fifteen hundred dollars for the boat."

  "Fifteen hundred fiddlesticks!" roared the squire. "If he's got fifteenhundred cents left out of his allowance, he's got more than I think hehas. That's a likely story. Well, you can just put it down in black andwhite that I don't pay any fifteen hundred dollars for a boat for a lotof boys to play monkey-shines with. I'll see about that."

  "Perhaps it's one of Harry's little jokes, squire," suggested CaptainSam. "Boys will have their fun, you know."

  Captain Sam threw his head back and gave a loud haw-haw. His recollectionof Harry Brackett's most recent fun was of seeing that youth tearingalong the highway at night, with a dozen fishermen after him, armed withhorsewhips.

  The squire's conception of it was not so pleasant, however, and he tookhis departure.

  "Harry," he said, at the dinner-table that day, "what's this I hear aboutyour trying to buy that boat of Jack Harvey?"

  Harry Brackett, taken somewhat by surprise, hesitated for a moment."Why--why--that was a sort of a joke," he answered, finally, forcinghimself to smile, as though he thought it funny.

  "A joke, eh?" retorted the squire, sharply. "Well, don't you think youhave had joking enough to last you one spell? Here it is getting so Ican't go down the road without folks looking at me and grinning. Haven'tyou any respect for your father's dignity? Don't you know I'm of someconsequence in this town?"

  "Yes, sir," replied the son, dutifully. "But I didn't bring your nameinto it. I didn't say you wanted it."

  "Well, what did you do it for?" repeated the squire.

  "Just for fun," insisted Harry Brackett.

  "May be so," said the squire, eying his son with some suspicion; "but I'mnot so sure of that, either. Now don't you go getting into any mischief.You've had just about fun enough lately."

  "All right, sir," answered Harry Brackett.

  Nevertheless, it was not exactly all right, from the squire's standpoint.Not altogether above taking an unfair advantage of others, he wasnaturally suspicious of everybody else; and this lack of faith inhumanity extended to his son. So he said no more, but kept his eyes open.

  Chance favoured him the very day following, when young Harry Brackett,having some work to do about the garden, threw off his jacket andwaistcoat and left them carelessly over the back of a chair in thekitchen. The squire, passing through the room, espied a letter exposedfrom an inner pocket of the waistcoat. With no compunctions, he took itout, opened it and read it. The letter was addressed to "Mr. HarryBrackett, Southport, Grand Island, Me.," and read as follows:

  "If you have not already made the offer for the _Viking_, don't bother about it; for I am planning a visit to Southport, myself. Much obliged to you for your trouble, in any case. Please don't mention the matter, however.

  "Hoping I may be of service to you at some time,

  "Very truly yours, "Charles Carleton."

  "So, ho!" exclaimed the squire, softly. "Been lying to me again, has he?I am not so surprised at that. But what did he do it for?"

  The squire's first impulse was to call Harry into the house and demand anexplanation. Then his curiosity led him to alter that determination. Whowas this Mr. Carleton? Why was he trying to buy a boat through his son?Why didn't he want the matter mentioned? What were the relations betweenthis Mr. Carleton and his son? Well, Mr. Carleton, whoever he was, wascoming to Southport. The squire would wait and see him for himself.

  He did not have long to wait, either, for the very next day he met Mr.Carleton face to face. The squire was waiting in the post-office for theevening mail when there came in with Jeff Hackett, in whose packet he hadsailed across from Bellport, a tall, gentlemanly appearing man, dressedin a natty yachting-suit of blue, his face chiefly characterized by apair of cold, penetrating blue eyes and a heavy blond moustache.

  "Good evening, sir," he said, with the easy air of a man of the world,and, withal the least deference to the pompous individual whom headdressed, which was not lost on a man of the squire's vanity. "Beautifulplace, this island. You should be proud of it, sir."

  "Good evening," replied the squire, formally, but warming a little. "Yes,sir, we are proud of Southport."

  "True," he continued, swelling out his waistband, "it does not afford allthe opportunities for a man of capital to exert his activities; but ithas its advantages."

  "Which I judge you have made some use of, sir," remarked the stranger, inan offhand, easy way, smiling.

  The squire beamed affably.

  "Are you going over to the harbour?" he inquired. "If so, I should bepleased to take you over in my carriage."

  "Why, you are very kind; I should like to ride," responded the stranger."I'll just leave word to have my valises sent over, and I'll go alongwith you."

  He presently reappeared, sprang lightly into the wagon, and the squiredrove down the road.

  The stranger proved most agreeable to Squire Brackett. He was an easy,fluent talker, though, to one of finer discernment than the squire, itmight have been apparent that he was not a man of education, but ratherof quick observation and who had seen something of the world. He pleasedthe squire by an apparent recognition of him as the great man of theplace, without ever saying so bluntly. He spoke of business matters as ofone who was possessed of some means, and finally, intimating that thesquire should know the name of one to whom he was showing a courtesy,handed him his card.

  To say that the squire was surprised, would be putting it mildly, for hehad not thought of Mr. Carleton arriving by other than the boat fromMayville. Yet, so it was engraved upon the card, "Mr. Charles Carleton,"with the address below of a Boston hotel.

  The squire was, however, somewhat relieved. It flashed through his mindnow, quickly, just what it all meant. Harry had met this man at Bellportand had been commissioned by him to purchase the boat. He had seen fit topose as the real purchaser to create an impression on the minds of theother boys that he had that amount of money. As for this gentleman, Mr.Carleton, he evidently had the means to
buy as good a boat as the_Viking_ if he chose.

  "I wish you would tell me the best boarding-house in the village," saidMr. Carleton. "I hear the hotel is burned down."

  "Indeed it is!" cried the squire, warmly. "And a plague on the rascalthat set it, and all his kind! It's a terrible loss to the place; and Isay it, though I opposed its being built."

  "What a shame!" responded Mr. Carleton from behind his heavy moustache.But his eyes were coldly unsympathetic.

  "There isn't any regular out-and-out boarding-place this summer," saidthe squire; "but I guess Captain Sam Curtis will put you up. He takes aboarder occasionally, and feeds 'em right well, too, I'm told."

  So, at length, arriving at the harbour and alighting at the house ofCaptain Sam, Mr. Carleton bade the squire good evening. He went in atonce, engaged a room, cultivated the captain and his wife studiously fora time, and was soon at home, after the manner he had of getting onfamiliar terms with whomsoever he desired. A curious trait in Mr.Carleton, too; for, at first approach to strangers, he seemed cold andalmost reserved, whom one might set down as a man of nerve, that wouldnot be likely to lose his head under any conditions.

  If Mr. Carleton had made up his mind to put himself on friendly termswith the youngsters of Southport, despite his natural inclinations, hecertainly knew how to go about it. Witness his appearance, the followingday, in the course of the forenoon, at the camp of Joe Hinman and therest of Harvey's crew, as they were making their preparations for dinner.

  "Well, you boys certainly have it nice and comfortable down here," hesaid, cheerily, advancing to where Joe Hinman was stirring a bed ofcoals, ready for the fry-pan, while two of the boys were finishing thecleaning of a mess of fish down by the water's edge. "I've done this sortof thing myself, and I declare I believe I'd like a week of it now betterthan living at a hotel or a boarding-house. Good camp you've got there.

  "That makes me hungrier than I've been for a long time," he added, as Joeproceeded to cut several slivers of fat pork and put them into thefry-pan, where they sizzled appetizingly.

  "Better stop and take dinner with us," suggested Joe. "We've got plentyto eat, such as it is. We'll give you some of the best fish you evertasted, and a good cup of coffee, and a mess of fritters."

  "Fine!" exclaimed Mr. Carleton. "You're lads after my own heart. I'llwatch you do the work and then I'll help you eat up the food." And Mr.Carleton, smiling, seated himself on the ground, with his back against atree, lighted a cigar, and watched operations comfortably.

  He proved very good company, too, at dinner. For he had a fund of storiesto amuse the campers; and he was heartily interested in their ownexploits--and particularly in their account of recent adventures down inthe Thoroughfare, where Harry Brackett and his companions had beendefeated.

  "Now I'll tell you what we'll do," he exclaimed, enthusiastically, asthey were finishing their camp-fire meal, "I'm in for some fun, just asmuch as you are. If you will go ahead and dig some clams this afternoon,I'll go up to the store and order a lot of fruit and nuts and that sortof stuff, and anything else that I see that looks good.

  "I saw some chickens hanging up there, too, that will do to broil. I'llget enough for a crowd. You tell the fellows up above in that campthere,--you know them, I suppose,--well, you get them and anybody elseyou like. And we'll build a big fire down here this evening and have thetime of our lives."

  "Hooray!" cried young Tim Reardon. "Joe Warren and the others would liketo come in on that. How about two more, besides--two fellows that ownthat yacht, the _Viking_?"

  "Just the thing," replied Mr. Carleton. "As many as you like."

  There was no more work on the _Surprise_ for the rest of that day. A manwho was willing to buy good things for the boys with that recklessnessdidn't come to town every day, nor once in a summer.

  "He says his name is Carleton," explained young Tim to Henry Burns andJack Harvey, some time later. "He says he's in for a good time, and Iguess he is by the looks of things."

  "We know him," replied Harvey. "He's an old friend of ours, eh, Henry?"

  "Yes, indeed," said Henry Burns; "he was the _Viking's_ firstinvited--no, uninvited--guest."

  Mr. Carleton was as good as his word, and more. The canoe, manned by Tomand Bob, went down alongshore that afternoon loaded with a conglomeratemixture of oranges, bananas, bottled soda, pies, other sweet stuff, andextra dishes from the campers' stores. And Mr. Carleton, arriving on thescene in the course of the afternoon, brought a lot more. He paid foreverything.

  "My!" exclaimed young Joe, eying the stuff as the Warren boys put in anappearance about five o'clock. "I hope he stays all summer, don't you,Arthur?"

  "Hello, I'm glad to meet you once more," cried Mr. Carleton, heartily,advancing to greet Henry Burns and Harvey as their dory landed at theshore. "I thought I might get down this way. How's that fine boat ofyours?"

  "Fine as ever," answered Harvey.

  "Good! I'll go out for a sail with you to-morrow," cried Mr. Carleton,clapping a hand on Harvey's shoulder. "Say the word, and I'll have thesoda and ginger ale and a new pail for some lemonade. We've got to makethe time pass somehow, eh?"

  "Suits me all right," assented Harvey. "What do you say, Henry?"

  "Bully!" said Henry Burns.

  The fire of driftwood, which was plentiful everywhere along the shores ofGrand Island, roared up cheerily against the evening sky. When it hadburned for an hour or more, Jack Harvey deftly raked an enormous bed ofthe coals out from it, on which to set fry-pans and broilers andcoffee-pot, still keeping the great fire going at a little distance, forthe sake of its cheer.

  They feasted, then, by the light of blazing timbers and junks of logs,borne down from the river, as only hungry campers can. Young Joe ceasedlaughing uproariously at Mr. Carleton's stories only when his sixthbanana and fourth piece of pie precluded loud utterance. And when it wasover, and they went their several ways by woods and alongshore, theyvoted Mr. Carleton a generous provider.

  He was ready again, was Mr. Carleton, the following afternoon, with thepromised luxuries, alongside the _Viking_; and he was as much a boy asany of them when he and the owners of the yacht and Tom and Bob set outon a sail up the bay.

  The wind was fresh and fair from the southward, the bay furrowedeverywhere with billows breaking white, with just enough sea running tomake it good sport. The _Viking_, with sheets well off, made a fine runto Springton, and bowled into that harbour with the spray flying.

  They cast anchor and went up into the old town, which was quite a littlesettlement clustered on a steep bank overhanging the harbour, and whichboasted of a fine summer hotel and several smaller ones. And when it gotto be late afternoon, Mr. Carleton wouldn't hear of their departing; butthey should all stay to supper at the hotel. If the wind died down withthe sun, why, they could stay all night. What did it matter, when theywere out for a good time?

  So they ate supper in style in the big hotel dining-room, and came forthfrom there an hour later to see the waters calm and the wind fallen.

  "Never mind, we'll sleep aboard the _Viking_," said Henry Burns. "There'sroom enough, though we have taken out some of the mattresses so as to putin the fishing-truck."

  But Mr. Carleton would not hear of this. Not for a moment. He likedroughing it, to be sure, as well as any of them. But they were his guestsnow for the night. They must remain right there at the hotel, and hewould see about the rooms. And they should breakfast at the hotel andthen sail back the next day at their ease.

  They were not unwilling. It was an unusual sort of a lark, but so long asMr. Carleton was enjoying it and was ready to pay the bills, they weresatisfied.

  So they sat on the veranda for several hours, enjoying the music of theorchestra in the parlour and watching the dancing through the windows.Then, when Mr. Carleton had bade them good night and had gone up to hisroom, they followed shortly, Tom and Bob occupying one room together andHarvey and Henry Burns, likewise, one adjoining.

  "Jack," said Henry Burns, suddenly, pausing i
n the act of divestinghimself of his blue yachting-shirt, "hang it! but I've forgotten to lockthe cabin."

  "Oh, let it go," said Harvey, who was already in bed and was drowsy withthe sea air and good feeding.

  "No, I don't like to," said Henry Burns. "There's a lot of boats lyingclose by; and you know how easy it is for one of those fishermen to slipaboard, and sail out at four o'clock in the morning, with one of our newlines and that compass that cost more than we could afford to pay justnow; and there's a lot of things that we couldn't afford to lose just atthis time. No, I'm going to run down and lock up."

  "It's a good half-mile," muttered Harvey. "Better take the chance and letit go."

  "Yes, but you wouldn't say so if you had forgotten it," said Henry Burns."I'm to blame. And if you don't see me again, why, you'll know I'vestayed aboard."

  Henry Burns said this last half in fun, as he departed. As for Harvey, itmattered naught to him whether Henry Burns returned or stayed away. Hewas asleep before his comrade had closed the hotel door behind him.

  If it had chanced that Mr. Carleton, too, being a man of shrewdobservation, had noticed the omission on the part of Henry Burns, who wasthe last one overboard, to slip the padlock that made the hatch and doorsof the companionway fast, he had not seen fit to mention the fact.Instead, he had been most talkative as they rowed away, pointing outvarious objects of interest up in the town.

  And now that the yachtsmen had retired for the night and Mr. Carleton hadwithdrawn to his room, it is just barely possible that he may haverecalled that fact. At all events, he did not make ready to retire, butsat for a half-hour smoking. Then he arose, turned down the light, andwent quietly down the stairs.

  It was about eleven o'clock, and the hotel was beginning to grow quiet.Few guests remained in the parlour, and most of the lights were out aboutthe hotel and the grounds. Down in the town, as Mr. Carleton strolledleisurely along the streets, there were few persons stirring. Yachtsmenaboard their craft in the harbour had ceased bawling out across the waterto one another, and no songs issued forth from any cabin. Only theharbour lights for the most part gleamed from the little fleet.

  The yacht _Viking_ lay some half-mile down below the village, toward theentrance to the harbour, and was hidden now from Mr. Carleton's view by alittle strip of land that made out in one place, and on which sometumble-down sheds stood leaning toward the water.

  Mr. Carleton went down confidently to the shore; but when he had arrivedat the place where they had drawn the dory out, he met with a surprise,for there was no dory there.

  He looked about him, thinking he might have happened upon the wrongplace; but there could be no mistaking it. There were the same sheds,with nets hung out, and the same boats in different stages of repair thathe had observed with a careful eye when they had come ashore.

  He went along the beach for a little distance, to where a lamp gleamed inone of the sheds, and knocked at the door.

  "Some one seems to have taken our tender," he said to a man that openedto his knock. "Do you know where I can borrow one or hire one for an hourso I can go out aboard? My yacht lies down there below that point.Anything you say for pay, you know."

  "I've got a skiff you're welcome to use, if you only fetch it back beforemorning," replied the man, good-naturedly. "I don't want pay for it,though. Just drag it up out of the reach of the tide when you come in."

  He pointed to the boat, and Mr. Carleton, dragging it into the water,stepped in and sculled away.

  He was alert enough now, and he worked the little boat with a skilledstroke and a practised arm. There were a pair of oars aboard, but itsufficed him to use the scull-hole at the stern, with a single oar, whichgave him the advantage of being able to look ahead. He put his strengthinto it, and the skiff worked its way rapidly through the fleet ofyachts. The evening was warm, and Mr. Carleton threw off jacket andwaistcoat and unbuttoned his collar. He was a strong, athletic figure ashe stood up to his work, peering eagerly ahead.

  Something gave him a sudden start, however, just as he cleared the pointthat had lain between him and the _Viking_. Watching out for a glimpse ofthe yacht, there seemed to be--or was it a trick of the eyes, or somereflection from across the water--there seemed to be a momentary flash oflight from the cabin windows. Just a gleam, or an apparent gleam, andthen all was dark.

  Mr. Carleton had stopped abruptly, straining his eyes at the yacht ahead.

  "Strange," he muttered softly, resuming his sculling and watching theyacht more eagerly, "I could have sworn that was a light in the cabin. If'twas a light, though, it must have been in one of the other boats."

  He proceeded vigorously on his way.

  At this very moment, however, there came another surprise to Mr.Carleton, greater than the other.

  Henry Burns, going down to the shore and sculling out to the _Viking_,had found the cabin unlocked, as he had recalled; but everything wassafe. It was comfortable aboard the yacht, and he decided to remain,planning to go ashore early in the morning in time for breakfast at thehotel. He sat up for some little time, however, and it was, indeed, hiscabin light that Mr. Carleton had seen, the moment before he hadextinguished it, to turn in for the night.

  Mr. Carleton, sculling on now cautiously toward the _Viking_, suddenlyheard a noise aboard the yacht. He paused again, then seated himselfquickly at the stern of the skiff, as a boyish figure emerged from thecompanionway of the _Viking_ and came out on deck. It was Henry Burns,taking one last look at the anchor-line, and a general look around,before he went off to sleep.

  There was nothing within sight to excite Henry Burns's interest.Everything was all right aboard the _Viking_. There were the few lightsstill left, up in the village streets. There were a few yachts anchoredat a little distance. There was the dark shore-line, with its tumblingsheds huddled together here and there. And, also, there was the lonefigure of a man, seated at the stern of a small skiff, sculling slowlydown past, some distance away. It was all clear and serene in HenryBurns's eyes, and he went below, rolled in on his berth, and went tosleep.

  The lone figure that Henry Burns had seen in the skiff had ceasedsculling now. He seemed to have no destination in view. The oar was drawnaboard and the skiff drifted with the tide. What the man in the skiff wasthinking of--what he contemplated--no one could know but he.

  But he resumed his sculling, very softly and slowly, after the lapse of afull half-hour. Noiselessly he described a circle about the yacht,drawing in nearer and nearer. Then he paused irresolutely, once more, andwaited. Only he could know what would happen next. Perhaps he, too, wasracked with uncertainty and irresolution. For once he seized the oar andworked the skiff up to within twenty feet of the gently swinging yacht.Then he paused again and waited.

  Henry Burns's sleep might, perchance, have been troubled could he havedreamed of the man now, waiting and watching just off the starboard bowof the _Viking_, while he slept within. But no dreams disturbed his soundslumbers.

  Nor did aught else disturb them. For, presently, there came out fromshore another boat, a rowboat with three men in it. They were laughingand joking about something that had happened ashore.

  Mr. Carleton, resuming his oar, sculled gently away from the _Viking_,worked his way back again through the fleet of yachts whence he had come,drew the skiff out of water where he had embarked, dragged it up on thebeach, and cast it from him roughly. Then he strode away up the bank tothe hotel, muttering under his breath, and looking back out over thewater once or twice as he ascended the hill, like a man that has sufferedan unexpected defeat.