CHAPTER XIV. THE MAN IN THE CABIN
The storm that had so suddenly overtaken the _Viking_ had raged over allof Samoset Bay. The yacht _Surprise_, running up before the afternoonsoutherly, had been becalmed when near the foot of Grand Island, a mileor so out, and had felt the first force of the succeeding nor'easter. Butthe squall that so nearly inflicted disaster upon the _Viking_ had passedover them.
They only knew that the wind changed with startling abruptness, and mostcapriciously, and that the sea began to roll up from the northeast in anunusually brief time.
They were in no danger, apparently, there being good anchorage in aharbour formed by the foot of Grand Island and a small island adjacent,where they could lie snug till the threatening weather had cleared.
Still, their apparent safety did not prevent their receiving a momentaryshock of alarm, when they were within less than a half-mile of shelter.
The yacht _Surprise_ was beating ably up to the lee of the islands,thrashing about some and throwing the spray, as the waves came spitefullychopping and tossing under the spur of the wind, when suddenly shestruck, bow on. There was a mild shock from one end to the other, and anominous grating sound along the bottom. At the same time, the centreboardrod, hit by some object, was forced part way upward through its box.
Joe Hinman, in great alarm, threw the yacht up into the wind, and glancedanxiously about for breakers. But none was in sight.
"We can't be in on the rocks," he gasped. "Why, we've been down here withJack fifty times, if we have once. There aren't any reefs out here."
"I'll get that chart and take a look," said Mr. Carleton.
"Better wait and see if we've stove a hole in the bottom," said Joe.
But the next moment the mystery was explained. There was a continuedgrating sound along bottom, and presently a bundle of floating lathsdrifted out, clearing the rudder. Coincident with this, the yacht struckagain very slightly at the bows. Then, as they scanned the water allabout, the boys saw that they had run into a mass of drifting,half-submerged laths, tied into bundles. It was clear that, in some blow,or storm, the deck-load of a coaster had been carried overboard.
By their water-soaked appearance, the laths had been afloat for manydays. The coasters that ran from Benton to the smaller towns down the bayoften carried these for a superficial cargo; and evidently some one ofthem, hit by a squall, had run its deck well under and the stuff hadfloated off.
Joe Hinman sprang forward, seized the boat-hook, and caught one of thebundles by the rope that bound it at one end. He drew it alongside andhauled it aboard with some difficulty, as it was heavy with water. Thenhe took out his pocket-knife and proceeded to cut a sliver from one ofthe laths. Though darkened a little by its exposure, and with trails ofslimy, green seaweed clinging to the bundle, the laths were sound, andthe wood bright as ever beneath the surface.
"Hooray!" he cried. "They're worth several dollars a bundle. We're inluck. We'll gather them all in."
They picked up seven or eight of the bundles, stowing them in on eitherside of the cockpit.
"Makes us look like a cargo-carrier," said Allan Harding.
"Yes, and a good cargo, too," replied Joe Hinman. "They are worth severaldollars each, to sell. But we won't sell 'em. I've got an idea. We'llearn as much money as Jack and Henry Burns."
"How's that?" asked Mr. Carleton, curiously eying the enthusiasticspeaker.
Joe looked at him, beaming, and in reply exclaimed briefly, buttriumphantly, "Lobster-pots!"
"That's so," laughed Mr. Carleton. "I guess if you can make those queer,bird-cage sort of things, you can catch all the lobsters you want aroundhere."
"Oh, yes, there's money in it," responded Joe, "though the lobstersaren't so plenty as they used to be, the fishermen say. But we couldn'tafford to buy any pots to fish with, because it costs so much to makethem nowadays."
Joyfully, they put the _Surprise_ on its course again and gained theshelter of the little harbour.
Three days later, the crew might have been seen, at a point about threemiles down the island from their camp, busily at work out on shore, withaxe and saw and hammer and nails.
"Going to build some lath-pots, eh?" Captain Sam had queried, when theyconsulted him. "Yes, you can do it all right. Just go out and fetch oneof mine in shore, and go by that." Then he added, with a twinkle in hiseye, and a shrewd Yankee smile, "You don't need all them 'ere lathsanyway. You give me one of them bundles, and I'll go to work and makethree of the slickest lath-pots you ever saw, for myself; and you can seejust how I do it."
"It's a bargain," replied Joe, "if you will let us take your tools afteryou get the pots made."
"Reckon I will," said Captain Sam, smiling.
It was a good bargain for the boys, at that; for Captain Sam was a cleverworkman at whatever he set his hand to do.
"One of these 'ere lath-pots," said the captain next day, as he set towork, "is just as long as the length of a lath--four feet. Now we wantthree strips of board, two feet long, to lay down crosswise for thebottom pieces, at equal distances apart."
He illustrated his remarks by splitting off the requisite pieces from achunk of board. Next he took an auger and bored a hole in each end of thethree pieces.
"Now," he said, "we want three pieces of spruce that will bend up likeyou was going to make a bow to shoot arrows with. Here they be, too, andI've had 'em soaking in water all the morning, so they'll bend better."
Whereupon, Captain Sam, having whittled the ends of the pieces of sprucedown so they would fit snugly into the holes he had made, bent them andinserted the ends in the holes of the three strips of board. The threebows stood up like the tiny beams for a miniature house, with a roundedroof, instead of a peaked one.
"Now, we'll nail on our laths, top and bottom," said Captain Sam, "andthen we've got the frame-work for a lobster-pot."
He nailed them on to the three strips of board at the bottom and to thethree hoops of spruce at the top, making a cage with a flat bottom and arounded roof. Then, in the same way, he made a lath door, three laths inwidth, running the entire length of the pot. This was fitted with leatherhinges and a wooden button to fasten on the inside, so that, when closed,the door formed part of the roof of the pot.
"That's the front door where Mr. Lobster always comes out," remarkedCaptain Sam. "It's more work, though, making the end doors for him towalk in at."
These end doors, that the captain referred to, he now proceeded to fitinto place. Each consisted of a funnel-shaped mesh made of knotted cord,the larger end fastened snugly all around to the end frame of the pot,and leading into a small opening, six inches in diameter, made of awooden hoop. This hoop was held in place by Captain Sam's tying it fastwith strings to the centre of the frame.
So that the entrance, for a hungry lobster seeking the bait inside, wouldbe the entire end of the frame, or what Captain Sam called the "streetentrance," and narrowing to an opening only six inches in diameter, wherethe lobster would enter the cage.
"Why don't they walk out again?" inquired young Tim, whose experience infishing had been limited mostly to catching flounders and cunners.
"Well, they would, I reckon, if they swam like fish," replied CaptainSam. "But when they have followed down the slope of the mesh, and oncesqueezed in through that small opening, they don't know how to get backagain, because their claws spread out so. The slope of the mesh helpsthem to get in, and there isn't any on the inside to help them get out.But they will crawl out again sometimes, too, if you leave the pots toolong and they get all out of food."
He next proceeded to set up, in the bottom of the pot, a small, uprightpost for a bait-holder. This was spear-shaped, with a barb whittled init, after the style of a fish-hook, so that a fish once impaled thereoncould not work off with the action of the water.
"There!" exclaimed Captain Sam, when he had driven the last nail and tiedthe last cord. "Reckon it's done. You boys can be chopping yourselves outsome
buoys, to mark your pots with, while I make the other two. You comeup to the house to-night, and I'll show you how to knot that twine tomake the meshes. So it won't cost you much to make your pots, only for alittle twine and some nails."
The crew, having thus gained their experience and the use of CaptainSam's tools, carried their stuff some three miles down the shore the nextday, and proceeded to construct their own lath-pots. The intermediatewaters had been fished so much by the townsfolk that they reckoned onbetter success farther away. Then, too, much of the water lying betweenwas taken up with the pots of other fishermen, as was shown by theirbuoys floating here and there. They constructed four of the pots thefirst day.
"Let's quit for the afternoon now, and get these set," suggested LittleTim, along about half-past four in the afternoon.
"All right, if you will trot up to town and get some rope," said Joe."That's the only thing we forgot. We'll need the boat, though, to catchsome bait with. You'll have to foot it."
"I'll go," replied Tim; "but, say, who's got any money?"
"Not any of us," said Joe. "You'll have to get Rob Dakin to trust us forit. Tell him Jack will pay, if we can't. But we can pay all right, if wehave any luck. Let's see, we want a lot of rope. This water is ten feetdeep at low tide off those ledges, and the tide rises eight or nine feet.We'll need about twenty-five or thirty feet of line for each pot. Thatwill allow for its snagging, too. Come on, fellows, we'll catch somebait."
There was a cove just below, with mud-flats making out into it, butcovered now with water. They rowed around to this, in a small boatborrowed from Captain Sam. Baiting their hooks with clams, they droppedtheir lines overboard; but the fish bit slowly.
"Guess they aren't hungry," said Joe. "Hand me up the spear, George, andthe oil. I'll make a 'slick,' and we'll see what we can do."
The spear was a long, light pole of spruce, with a trident at oneend--three sharp prongs, the middle blade with a clean point, the outerblades barbed.
They rowed into shallow water, but the bottom could not be seen, becauseof a slight ruffling of the surface by the wind. Taking the bottle offish-oil that George Baker handed to him, Joe Hinman poured some of itout on to a rag tied to the end of a stick. With this, he scattered theoil for some distance about the boat. The oil spread out over the surfaceof the water, smoothing its tiny chopping, so that through it the bottomcould be plainly seen.
Joe Hinman lay flat at the bow of the boat, holding the spear down in thewater. Presently he gave a jab with it, into the mud, and brought to thesurface a huge sculpin, wriggling, but fast on the prongs.
"They aren't exactly handsome," he remarked, as he dropped the sculpininto the bottom of the boat, "but lobsters aren't particular aboutlooks."
The next jab brought up a big flounder that had wriggled its head intothe mud, and fancied itself safe. The bottom of the boat was soon coveredwith them.
By the time young Tim was back with the rope, they had enough fish tobait the four pots, and more, and a mess of flounders for supper.
They cut the line into proper lengths, tied one end of each length to theend frame of a pot, and fastened a wooden buoy, previously boiled incoal-tar to prevent its becoming water-logged, to the other end. Thenthey took the pots, one by one, and rowed out with them to the off-lyingledges.
They baited each pot, by impaling the fish on the wooden spear-headsticking up from the bottom, closed the door, turned the wooden buttonthat fastened it, and dumped it overboard. The pots, weighted withstones, sank slowly to the bottom.
"Great!" exclaimed Joe, as the last of the four went overboard."Everything complete, except we might have painted a sign, 'Walk in,' oneach one. What do you think about that, Tim?"
"No, they don't need it," said Tim, emphatically. "You might want me togo to the store again for the paint."
They were down bright and early the next morning to haul the pots. Inthree of them, their efforts had been rewarded. In the fourth, the baithad been untouched. But one of the pots had begun as a money-maker inearnest. There were three good-sized lobsters in it. The other two hadone each.
They had saved some fish from the catch of the night before, so theybaited up the pots again, put them overboard, and resumed theiroccupation ashore of constructing more pots, delegating young Tim to selltheir catch among the cottagers, who had nearly all arrived for thesummer.
Young Tim was gone not a great while, either. He came back, whoopinghilariously, and opened a small and rather begrimed fist, to disclose totheir admiring gaze the sum of a dollar and twenty-five cents in silvermoney.
"Hooray!" cried Joe Hinman, throwing up his cap. "At this rate, we'llhave the rope paid for, and the nails, and something more besides, whenJack and Henry Burns get back. We'll come pretty near taking care ofourselves for the rest of the summer."
Already the crew, with visions of being self-supporting, began to have anincreased respect for themselves. It was an agreeable sensation.
They soon found, however, that they were handicapped by the need of a carto store their catch in; for, on some days when they had lobsters tosell, the cottagers didn't happen to want any; and again it happened thatthey hadn't any on hand when they were wanted. They began theconstruction of a car, therefore, out of some old packing-boxes, afterthey had finished a few more pots, and were hard at work on it when theyacht _Viking_ hove in sight on an afternoon.
The _Viking_, following its frightful experience in the storm, had had aprosperous trip. The boys had made some heavy catches, and were returningwith twenty-two hard-earned dollars.
There was a joyful celebration down on the shore that evening, in honourof the _Viking's_ return, and to commemorate their luck as fishermen.
"You've been buying the stuff for us all along," Joe Hinman had said toJack Harvey. "Just come down to the camp to-night, and bring Tom and Boband the Warren boys. We'll get the food this time."
And they did, in generous style. There were seven of the biggest andfiercest-looking lobsters that they had caught in the last two days,broiling over a bed of red coals, when the visitors arrived. There weretwo tins of biscuit, baked in the sheet-iron oven. There were provisionsthat the crew had been able to buy with their own earnings. There werepotatoes baked in the ashes, and coffee, steaming hot.
"Yes, and what's more, Jack," said Joe Hinman, as they sat about the fireon the shore, "there's enough stuff left to make about seven more pots.You fellows can go ahead and make the rest, if you want to; and we'lltake turns tending them and getting the bait."
"All right," replied Harvey; "and if we get a bigger stock in the carthan we can dispose of around here, we'll load up the _Viking_, when weget a strong westerly some day, and run down to the big hotel atStoneland. They'll pay bigger prices than we can get at the market."
"My! but this lobster is good," said young Joe Warren. "Henry, pass overthat melted butter and vinegar."
"Isn't it a great feast, though?" exclaimed young Tim. "Beats city gruball hollow."
And, indeed, it probably did surpass the sort of living Tim got at home.
"How's our friend, Mr. Carleton?" asked Bob. "It's a wonder he hasn'tbeen around to welcome us back."
"Perhaps he is offended with me for not taking him aboard on our fishingtrip," said Henry Burns.
"Why, he hasn't been to see us for two days," replied Joe. "By the way,though, last time I met him he asked me if I had seen anything of a rubyscarf-pin aboard the _Surprise_. Said he'd lost one."
"He asked me that, too," said Arthur Warren. "He was up near the cottageyesterday. Said he thought he might have dropped it out aboard the_Viking_."
"I think not," said Harvey. "If he had we should have found it, for weair that bedding out every clear day."
"I don't recall seeing him wear one," said Henry Burns.
It is quite possible that Mr. Carleton might have been on hand to greetthe fishermen on their return, had he not been away down the island forthe day, in a rig he had hired of Captain Sam. The horse, though wellrecommended by Capt
ain Sam, was modelled somewhat on the same generouslines as the captain's boat, the _Nancy Jane_; that is, broad and beamy,solid and substantial, but not especially speedy; more inclined to thrashup and down, with considerable clatter, than to skim along and make time.The result on this occasion was, that it was about half-past nine o'clockwhen Mr. Carleton drove into Captain Sam's dooryard, rather weary, andnot in the best of temper.
However, good-hearted Mrs. Curtis had supper waiting for him, and he lostno time in stretching his legs under the table, where, at his ease over ahot cup of tea, he was inclined to improve in spirits and rally thecaptain on the slowness of his horse.
"Well," said Captain Sam, with imperturbable good humour, "I'm sorry theold nag didn't fetch you up a little quicker. She's a safe, steadydriver, though. Reckon the youngsters would have liked to see you over totheir shore supper. They're all over there. Guess you must have seentheir fire down on the shore as you drove up. You know the _Viking_ gotin this afternoon. Had real good luck, too, so Henry Burns was saying."
Mr. Carleton, leaning back in his chair and leisurely passing his cup foranother serving of tea, straightened up suddenly at this remark. But heonly said, indifferently, "That so? I'll have to look them up in themorning. I'm afraid I'm too tired to walk down there to-night."
"Oh, they will be coming up before long now," said Captain Sam.
"Why, don't seem as if you was eating much," he added, as Mr. Carletonrose from the table.
Mr. Carleton had swallowed his last cup of tea in two gulps.
"First rate, first rate," he said. "Had a good supper. I'll take a littlestroll with a cigar, before turning in."
Mr. Carleton walked leisurely out of the yard; but, when he had passeddown the road a few steps, he quickened his pace and reached the shorealmost running. Taking the first boat that came to hand, at random, hepushed off and rowed out to the _Viking_ with a few quick, powerfulstrokes. Then, pausing for a moment alongside, he listened for the soundsof any one approaching. It was still. Mr. Carleton sprang aboard.
He rushed to the companionway. But the hatch was drawn, the cabin doorsshut, and the lock set. Mr. Carleton uttered an exclamation of anger.Stooping over, he felt along under the seats on either side of thecockpit. His search was rewarded, for his hand rested presently on theblade of a small hatchet, which was used by the yachtsmen for all sortsof work, from chopping bait to splitting kindling.
Mr. Carleton sprang to his feet, gave one quick glance about, then rushedto the companionway and smashed the lock with two smart blows. The nextmoment, he shoved back the hatch, opened the doors, and vanished below.
But, though unseen, Mr. Carleton had not been unheard.
Only a few moments before this, Tom and Bob and Henry Burns and Harveyhad gone down to the shore, after bidding the crew good night.
"How did you happen to bring the canoe, Jack?" inquired Allan Harding. "Ithought you wasn't going to use that any more."
"Well, I did say so last year," replied Harvey. "I thought I had come toonear drowning ever to enjoy it again. But Tom and Bob were coming down intheirs, so Henry and I got mine down from the Warren's shed."
"We'll race you up," said Tom.
"All right," said Harvey. "I think you can beat us, though."
For a short distance, however, Henry Burns and Harvey held their own.Then the skill of the other two, and their long practice of paddlingtogether, began to tell, and their canoe forged ahead.
"It's no use, Henry," said Harvey, good-naturedly. "I can't handle apaddle with Tom Harris. They have kept a straight line, but I can't keepthis craft up to her course."
They slowed down, accordingly, and the other canoe left them considerablyastern. Then Tom, turning and discovering that the others had fallenback, spoke to Bob, and they waited for the second canoe to come up.
It was at this very moment that Mr. Carleton, hatchet in hand, hadsmashed the lock.
"Hark! what was that?" exclaimed Bob White. "Did you hear it? That wasout aboard the _Viking_."
"It sounded like it, sure enough," said Tom. "Say, fellows," he cried asthe other canoe came near, "did you leave anybody aboard the yacht? Wejust heard somebody out there."
"No, we didn't," replied Harvey. "Come on, let's get up to her quick."
If Tom and Bob had beaten them before, they could not do it now. Harvey'spaddle went into the water with a strength that was well-nigh doubledwith excitement. Moreover, if there had been any possible doubt in theirminds as to whether there was really anybody aboard the _Viking_, thatdoubt was dispelled by a faint gleam of light showing from out the cabindoor.
"How can that be?" exclaimed Harvey. "I sprung that lock, myself."
They were alongside, next moment, and aboard, with the light lines thatheld the canoes quickly made fast.
Rushing to the companionway, Harvey cried, angrily:
"Here! Who's that down there? What are you doing?"
The man, springing up, and holding the lantern in one hand, disclosed thefeatures of their friend, Mr. Carleton.
"Hello!" he said. "Say, this is too bad."
"You bet it's too bad!" cried Harvey, interrupting him. "What do you meanby breaking in here?"
Mr. Carleton, setting down the lantern, emerged from the cabin.
"I really must apologize," he said, coolly. "I simply couldn't wait--"
"Yes, but you could wait!" Harvey broke in, hotly, and advancing towardMr. Carleton. "It's no way to do, to sneak out here in the night andsmash our things."
"See here, young man," exclaimed Mr. Carleton, himself warming a little,though his voice was calm and modulated, "I wouldn't try to threaten me,if I was you, don't you know. I might get angry, too. I--"
"Do it!" cried Harvey, excitedly. "Get angry. I'd just like to have you.Just give us a chance and see what happens."
"And what might that be?" demanded Mr. Carleton, sharply.
"I'll tell you," replied Harvey. "We'll throw you overboard. Say,fellows, won't we?"
"We certainly will," answered Henry Burns, calmly.
"Say the word, Jack," said Bob.
The four boys approached Mr. Carleton. He eyed them for a momentthreateningly. They were certainly sturdy opponents. And that hisintended threat had been without avail, and that they were thoroughlyfearless and ready to act, there could be no doubt. Mr. Carleton'sdemeanour altered.
"Good! I like your pluck," he laughed. "Really, I think I'd do the samething if I were in your place. I don't blame you, and I was sorry I wasso hasty, the moment I had done it. You see, I've lost a very valuableruby scarf-pin somewhere--a keepsake, too, don't you know. I've worriedmyself just about frantic over it. Now I thought it must have fallen outwhen I was aboard here. So, when I found your cabin locked up, I simplycouldn't stand it any longer.
"But I'll make any amends in my power," he added. "I'll come outto-morrow, and I'll bring the best lock that money will buy over inBellport. I'll send over for it first thing."
"Hadn't you better go ashore now?" suggested Henry Burns.
"Why, yes,--good night,--I will," replied Mr. Carleton. "Good night--I'msorry it happened--I'll fix it all right, though."
And, stepping into his boat alongside, he put out his oars and rowedaway.
"Never mind about that lock," Henry Burns called out.
"What!" exclaimed Mr. Carleton, pausing for a moment.
"I say, never mind the lock," repeated Henry Burns. "We'll attend tothat, ourselves. We'd just as lieves you would keep away from the_Viking_ after this."
Mr. Carleton made no reply as he rowed away.
"I wonder if we were too rough on him," said Jack Harvey to hiscompanion, a little later, as they were undressing, preparatory toturning in for the night.
"I don't see why," answered Henry Burns. "That's a pretty high-handedproceeding, to come aboard here and smash into our cabin."
"Well, perhaps he _was_ worried about that pin," said Harvey. "Somepersons do lose their heads just that way."
"Yes, but he isn't o
ne of the kind that lose their heads," said HenryBurns. "And for my part, I can't recall for the life of me ever seeinghim wear any such kind of a pin."
The Rival Campers Afloat; or, The Prize Yacht Viking Page 15
